The Battle for Tomorrow (Ilon the Hunter)

by Frederick Bell

  “And how do I repay such generosity?” Borobos asked pointedly, though the meaning of her offer was appallingly clear.

  “Why simply show me where Poxiciti is. His capture is inevitable. So why not profit from it?”

  “Only if to see you dead first.”

  The harshness quickly returned to her voice. “I can see now that you are as stupid as the others. Too bad. Perhaps you should have died and spared me the misery of your detestable presence.”

  Pulima Cos angrily wheeled about and seated herself behind the desk. Having Borobos killed without a trial would undoubtedly be impolitic. She was far too popular. People might question it. Nevertheless she had a plan that would ultimately rid herself of this loathsome band of troublemakers once and for all. Picking up a handful of documents she sorted through the pile and plunked each one down in front of Borobos.

  “. . . lag guns, sequasel fire grenades, butamin air mines. Quite a stockpile of military hardware, wouldn’t you say, Borobos?” The features of her fat face showed a gloating expression. “In fact my troops recovered these very same weapons at a secret location in city Tsilix. The warehouse where they were stored was leased to Segathar Scientific Enterprises.”

  Hearing that name sent a shock wave of fear through her whole body. As Borobos started to rise, Midlothian pushed her back down into the chair.

  “Does that name sound familiar to you? It should.” Pulima Cos then produced a document and pointed to Poxiciti’s own signature at the bottom. “See? Obviously he and his followers were planning to overthrow this government. My attempted murder is proof of that. Do you deny it?”

  “Of . . . of course,” she sputtered. “Its . . . insane! Lies and fabricated evidence. No one will believe it!”

  “If the lie is big enough then everyone will believe it.” She checked the time. “The weapons are being shipped right now. And when they reach my city tomorrow I will expose your entire movement as a fraud. Your seditious and rebellious environmental terrorists will be rounded up and executed—the end of everyone!”

  As her final words closed in on Borobos, she thought desperately, Is this the end, is it? Poxiciti on the run, our organization in disarray, people dying. Who can help us?

  Chapter Thirty

  The sky was beginning to darken. Even darker clouds, under lit by the sun, glowed blood red. Earlier a heavy downpour passed through the distant hills, the streaming water running far out into the flatlands beyond, forming broad fan-tailed deltas in the shallow pools. At the base of one dune a big goud had died there just recently, though it was already half-buried in the accumulating sand and silt. Several long-legged creatures were snapping up its remains when a distant sound broke their feeding frenzy. One of the creatures looked up and hissed warning. Soon it was joined by the others who made off into the shadows, outstretched tails riding behind them as they fled swiftly away.

  Something else was moving upon the field, coming closer and closer. There was a brief flurry of activity as even smaller creatures scurried to get out of the way. The low steady thud of footfalls could now be heard; before very long a swirling dust cloud was visible.

  Out of the evening darkness the first Egris came into view, leaping, jumping, striding forward. One by one they passed the dead bulk of the goud, and within moments the last hunter dropped down behind the hill and vanished from sight.

  In the evening, after the sun vanished completely, the pack halted at the top of a dune and peered down into the shallow valley below. At the first sight of the road, Kykiris motioned for attention by thumping her thick tail on the sand. She then pointed toward a bright patch of light near the roadway.

  “That is where they pass each day. I do not know why, for everything about them is strange, but the Iranha machines always stop there.”

  “That high ridge,” Ilon noticed. “You can see the road more distantly from up there. Gangahar, Katakana, go and watch for the Iranha. Signal if you see them coming.”

  He issued orders easily and they obeyed him because this bold venture was his idea. This was to be their first combined effort. Trod Horhon, trod Targasesk, and trod Sandisand, all united together under a mutual bond of hatred toward the Iranha. Now every hunter was watching him, waiting expectantly for his next command.

  “Targasesk, take your hunters to the other side of the road and wait. When we are sure their building is empty then I will send someone to tell you. The rest of us will go forward quickly and quietly. Spread out. Watch for the Iranha. If any are down there try to kill them as silently as possible. But be certain to kill everyone.”

  What they had to do was simple and clear. One by one they slipped down the hill, then across the road, invisible shapes moving in absolute silence. Horhon was the first one to reach the building, her sharp claws extended, her mouth open, white teeth showing. Ready to kill. She was soon joined by the others who were moving out of the shadows and into the bright lights of the building.

  “Did you see anything?” Ilon queried.

  “Nothing.” Horhon indicated the door. “It is deserted.”

  He nodded acceptance, then looked toward the empty road. “Then we wait.”

  By nature the hunters were eager to kill; most preferred to do it sooner than later. And so as the night wore on the hunters became more and more impatient.

  “How much longer?” Katakana complained.

  Deep down Gangahar wished she would take this task a little more seriously, although he too was starting to believe that the Iranha might not come this night. “Ilon says we must wait.”

  “Ilon says,” she huffed. “Do we now do everything he tells us?”

  “I suppose we do,” he smiled, subtly implying that she did not have to enjoy his orders, she merely had to obey them.

  She turned her back and growled. Nothing Ilon did would ever convince her that his way was the only way. With so many hunters now dead how could they expend more lives on these suicide attacks? Despite what she was thinking, at that very moment something moved dead ahead. White lights blazed in the darkness, flashed, then blinked out behind a low hill. Too bright to be stars. She immediately recognized them for what they were.

  “They’re coming!” Both she and Gangahar raced back to tell the others.

  In haste Ilon issued just the minimum of instructions before everyone quickly dispersed back into the shadows and waited to strike. The only sound now was that of the approaching vehicles.

  As the lead driver swung around the curve she saw the lights of the fuel depot straight ahead. Since leaving city Tsilix this morning the convoy had been on the road all day without stopping. Now with her fuel gauge indicating close to empty, she slowed and angled the transport toward the deserted station.

  Drivers queued up in front of the automated fueling bay while each waited their turn for the equipment to move them into position. There was a hissing noise from some of the vehicles as the cab doors swung open and their occupants climbed down. They met at the building’s main entrance and talked briefly; one by one they went inside to use the facilities.

  No one came back outside.

  After waiting what seemed an inordinate amount of time two more drivers climbed down, then walked on impatiently toward the building’s main doors. Just as the nearest one pulled the door open she screeched in pain as the spear point pierced her body. Pulling his blood-dripping spear free Ilon took aim at the second and thrust it deep into the stunned creature. She too crumpled and died.

  Something came out of the shadows, too black to be clearly seen, moving swiftly toward the transports.

  Horrified, one of drivers struggled desperately for her firearm, only to die in the jaws of death that reached in and pulled her screaming from the cab. The Egris so outnumbered the Iranha that in the end few hunters had wet their teeth, though some did bite into the already ripped open corpses just to taste their blood.

  “We have done it!” Amissaiked shouted victoriously. “Defeated the Iranha. Killed them all.”

 
However Ilon did not share her happy enthusiasm, for he knew that they had not killed enough to make any bit of difference. “Do not be so eager to celebrate victory yet. We have killed some Iranha. But not all.”

  “Then it is a good beginning,” she replied. “Wait here and more will come.”

  “Wait here and death will come. We must destroy this place and leave.”

  “What of their machines?” Targasesk asked. “Destroy them too?”

  “Everything,” Ilon acknowledged. “But first search them. There might be something inside we can use.”

  After going through the cargo holds he pried open one of the sealed crates. “Iranha weapons!” he shouted, seizing the gun between his hands and lifting it up to show them. “More than we can carry.”

  “These ones over here are much bigger,” Amissaiked reported.

  Indeed, of all the guns Ilon had handled this was the largest. He examined it briefly, then ordered everyone to step back while he sighted carefully at the empty building. His attempts to discharge the weapon failed and he was ready to throw it down when Gattagat came forward to help. The two of them were eager to make it work so they collaborated together, soliciting the watchers for any bits of useful information.

  “It is an interesting problem,” Gattagat admitted. “Those who made it I am sure never intended that we Egris know its secrets.”

  “That will be their undoing.” Ilon twisted the barrel and pulled; his smile increased as the big gun hummed to life. “Let them feel what it is like to be running away from this.”

  The air crackled, followed then by a brilliant bolt of light that arced toward the nearest wall. It blazed brightly, making a thunderous sound as it struck; the air had a burnt ozone smell. All looked up to see the smoking ruin where the building had once been.

  Sandisand touched the weapon with his trembling finger, a look of terror etched on his face. “They can do that?”

  “We can do that,” Ilon said confidently. “With their own weapons we will crush them, turn their cities into dust. This is my promise to you. We will not stop until every Iranha has been driven from our world, until their machines are set afire and burned.” With both hands he raised the lag gun high over his head.

  “There is a storm coming. And soon it will sweep them all away!”

  Chapter Thirty One

  They never discovered what had been the real cause of it. The bodies were so badly burnt the only real evidence of their fate was the tremendous explosion which had ripped apart the entire station and scattered the debris over a wide area. The investigators who were sent in to deal with the wreckage acknowledged that a powerful force had leveled the building. And since the transports were carrying explosives it was easy to make the connection, so no one bothered to search any further.

  Had they looked closer they might have found the spoor of the segathars laid down in the sand. From their location and number they might have even deduced the station was attacked. Someone suggested the possibility of a terrorist attack, since one of the blast points showed evidence of gunfire. Luckily the senior investigating officer chose to ignore her underling’s theory because it countermanded her own tidy solution. A horrific and tragic accident. That would be her final report to Midlothian.

  For the time being, Borobos had temporarily won her freedom. Yet she knew as she walked along the streets of the city that the shadows were following her, watching her every move. Pulima Cos had given herself sweeping new powers to arrest people and disperse crowds. Furthermore, many of Borobos’s aides and associates were rounded up and thrown into jail on trumped-up charges of insurgency and inciting riots. Although she was now under constant watch it was of paramount urgency that she contact Poxiciti. But she dared not, for Pulima Cos was ready to close her wedges on them the instant she went to him.

  One afternoon Pulima Cos summoned Borobos into her presence. Undoubtedly she wanted to question her about Poxiciti’s whereabouts again, so today’s meeting would be no different than yesterday’s. As Borobos expected, when she arrived Pulima Cos was seated at her usual spot. Midlothian, now her constant companion, hulked close beside her. Seeing her gesture, Borobos stepped forward hesitantly into her ominous presence.

  “Another installation was attacked last night.” Those were Pulima Cos’s only words. Instead she held up an object of interest which Borobos took in her hand and examined closely.

  “The damage is indicative of a pulse weapon, most likely a lag gun,” Borobos told her as she handed the burnt metal fragment back over.

  “You know something about this, don’t you?” Even while she was shaking her head no Pulima Cos went on uninterrupted. “I strongly suspect that these armed terrorists are fighting under your leadership and direction.”

  Borobos simply rolled her eyes. “I know nothing of it. Nor would I be so cowardly to order the deaths of innocent people.”

  “Poxiciti would. If he is the one who is behind this killing and destroying—and I believe he is—then you are part of his scheme to subvert my law and order.”

  For Borobos this was nothing new to hear. Only one thing really mattered to Pulima Cos, and that of course was Poxiciti’s capture. Nothing else. Despite her accusations Borobos genuinely doubted his involvement with killing. His attempt to kill her was a perfectly natural response. Had Borobos been holding a gun right now she surely would have finished the job herself.

  “You attempt to blame him for what I believe is of your own doing. It is no coincidence that as these nightly attacks increase, so do your charges against him.”

  “That I would attack and burn my own city just to see him charged, convicted, and killed, is a possibility too wonderful to consider. No, he will not escape that easily. Poxiciti cannot hide from me forever.”

  Obeying her orders Midlothian pulled out her sidearm and pointed it directly at Borobos’s head.

  “If she speaks anything other than the truth, even the tiniest lie—then kill her instantly. Is this understood?”

  Midlothian happily acknowledged her command, then trained her weapon on Borobos’s cowering form and awaited her killing orders. Pulima Cos stepped forward, her pendant flesh wriggling beneath the folds of her scarlet gown.

  “Every day I question you, and every day you lie. I believe that you will keep on lying. But today will be different. Today you will tell me exactly what I wish to know. The truth. So I will ask you one thing and you will answer me only one thing. And that is, where you have hidden Poxiciti. Then I will seek him out and destroy him for good. I will know if you lie. Because if you lie I will order Midlothian to kill you. She will shoot, and you will die. Tell me, is this what you want?”

  Borobos had little choice. She saw Midlothian’s killing stance, the pointed gun close to her face, the motion of her ready wedges on the trigger. It was a very real threat, one that Pulima Cos promised to fulfill.

  “No.”

  “Good. Very good. A simple answer, yet you have spoken truthfully and now live because of it, even if only to save your miserable hide.” She stepped out of Midlothian’s gun sight. “Now. Where is he?”

  What could she do? With so many other lives at stake was Poxiciti that important? Borobos moved her mouth, not wanting to speak, but knowing that death was her only alternative. Her eyes swung across Pulima Cos for an instant.

  “He is . . . in . . . in Buloxus prefecture,” she gasped out. “At an agricultural facility near the Betelgesel River.” Midlothian lowered her gun and the threat of death was over for the moment.

  “But by now he will be gone.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.” When Borobos again saw the gun coming up she covered her face and screamed, “I swear it! He will try to contact me. He knows your spies surround me every day. That is all I know.”

  Summoning one of her aides, Pulima Cos unrolled a map and forced Borobos to point out his exact location. “Dispatch my soldiers to this place at once. Arrest everyone.” After her aide turned and left the room
she glared at Borobos. “I had better find evidence of his presence there, or I promise that you will be returned here and killed.”

  A curt dismissal followed her menacing words. For Borobos it could not have come any sooner. She rushed outside to a waiting vehicle which took her to the sky port. The further city Anaxerxes shrank behind her the better she felt. Dealing with Pulima Cos the way Poxiciti must have, she too was wishing for her death. Far better to be leaving, because as soon as that fat wind bag discovered she had deceived her, it would be the end of her freedom. Worse, Borobos told her a lie. Now she had only to wait, and death would inevitably seek her out.

  Upon reaching the sky port she hurried inside the terminal and waited impatiently for the transport back to city Sologcetis. She was incredibly tired, her body finally slumping from exhaustion as she lay against the bench and closed her eyes.

  Suddenly there was a loud explosion outside, followed by a lot of smoke, then flames. People started screaming, running to get out of the way. Borobos was on her feet, moving toward the door when someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her back.

  “Get back inside! We’re under attack!”

  The soldier, her weapon drawn, disappeared through the doorway just as another explosion crumpled the wall and knocked Borobos tumbling to the floor. Bleeding, frozen with fear, she watched in horror as a second transport erupted into a ball of fire. Smoke and flames were shooting out of the wreckage; dead bodies were strewn across the tarmac.

  Just as Borobos was struggling to her feet an intense heat wave gusted in through the broken windows, then a choking pall of black smoke. Fire! The building was on fire. She stumbled outside, coughing, gasping for air, in all the confusion not knowing where to run. Hearing the sound of a discharging lag gun, she saw the blue pulse of light as it hit a building nearby. The ground shook from the force of the explosion, followed then by a shock wave that spread outward from the epicenter. Those who were running away were knocked down, presumably killed. Borobos looked about in horror. With so many dead the only alternative now was to run for her life. Just as she was about to go, a second, even more powerful explosion, struck from behind and threw her into the air.