Crisis On Doona

by Anne McCaffrey

  “I’m going back,” Todd called, wheeling his horse. “Keep the line in order.”

  “Right! Quick kill, Todd,” Kelly replied. She turned her eyes forward. Behind her, she could hear Todd barking directions to the other two Hrrubans on how to attack the snake without further endangering Hrriss.

  Jan and Don had spread out to make up for the shortage in personnel. Don was on the radio to the other teams, keeping track of the stragglers who strayed out of the cordon. He waved encouragement to Kelly, as did the other two members of Team One. Then Jilamey drew level with her, babbling something, his sweaty face red with excitement. Did he think he needed to help Hrriss and Todd? Idiot! She waved him on, to fill in the line behind Don. She lifted her radio to her ear and picked up field coordination where Todd had left off. He and Hrriss were already out of sight. They’d handle the Mommy: they were clever Hunters.

  Todd galloped his horse back to where the Mommy Snake coiled and writhed, trying to dislodge Hrriss. Hrriss’s now-riderless horse, cannoning between the others, had scattered the two strange Hrrubans’ mounts in opposite directions, keeping them from reaching the Mommy Snake’s open maw, and probably saving their lives, though the ungrateful Hunters would be unlikely to realize it.

  Hrriss clung to the nape of the great reptile’s neck, even though his leg had to be paining him. Repeated thrusts of his knife blade were scattering drops of ichor as the snake flung its head from side to side, trying to get rid of the agonizing pest on its back. Hrriss kept on striking powerful blows but the snake almost seemed to anticipate his targets and he hadn’t hit anything vital yet. The blade bit again.

  The great length of the snake coiled and writhed in fury. The two Hrrubans who were responsible for this disaster controlled their hysterical horses at a distance from the giant reptile, watching Hrriss, clearly not knowing what to do. Todd cursed. The Hunt was against killing any of the wildlife that hadn’t gone rogue. Once one had gone berserk, the Doonans had no choice but to kill it to save their own lives. It was just like these senseless strangers to incite one to terminal frenzy and then sit back to watch the fun. No, that was unfair—they really didn’t know what one of these snakes was capable of. But that wouldn’t help his friend.

  By now, Hrriss’s two ocelots had joined the battle, tearing at the snake’s sides to help their master. Long gouges were ripped from the skin, oozing ichor that was churning dirt into a hideously viscous mud. The snake bent its powerful neck to try and bite at the two little pests on the ground, but as it bent for one, the other would rake at it from the other side, turning its attention away.

  Recognizing that he was unlikely to get a clear shot at the head of the furiously thrashing snake, Todd put up his rifle and reached for the lasso. He began whirling the rope just above Gypsy’s head, keeping the noose small enough so as not to tangle in the branches above him. Despite his care the rope snagged on a bush and he had to start over.

  Shouts alerted him that Team Two was closing in on them, following the next flux of snakes very near to the river path. Out of the corner of his eye, Todd could see that one of the riders had his own rope circling above his head, just shy of the canopy of leaves. Hrrula shouted to show he was ready. Hrriss ducked as low as he could go against the snake’s back without flinging himself into its coils. Teeth gritted, Todd gave the signal, and both of them threw at once. As soon as the other man’s noose dropped over the snake’s head, he yanked back on his horse’s reins, causing the animal to dig in its hooves in the soft mold and pull the rope taut. Todd pulled back, too, and the snake fought between the two lines, unable to reach either of its mounted tormentors. Struggling wildly, the snake released Hrriss’s foot. The Hrruban grabbed hold of one of the ropes with a clawed hand and slashed repeatedly at the reptile’s throat with his blade. It flung loops of itself forward to protect its vulnerable underjaw but not soon enough. Too much damage had been done by Hrriss’s blade. Its loops lost strength and its head hung in the nooses, dying.

  One of the strange Hrrubans, evidently deciding that the danger was over, rode forward and plunged his spear through one of the snake’s eyes into its brain. The writhing of the coils became more frenzied, and gradually died into infinitesimal twitches. Todd let his rope drop slack and started to gather in the lengths, urging his horse forward with his knees.

  The Hrruban visitor’s triumphant cry echoed through the forest.

  “I have killed the great one!” he crowed, flexing his claws over his head.

  “The kill is Hrriss’s,” Todd said flatly. Hrriss was beginning to climb free. Todd swung off his horse to help him to his feet. Hrriss signalled that he was not seriously hurt, though he was favoring the leg. “If he had not acted when he did, the results might have been very serious for you.”

  On Hrrula’s hissed orders, a Team Two rider went off into the brush to retrieve Hrriss’s horse. He reappeared shortly, leading Hrriss’s Rrhee, then rode off to rejoin his own team, now far ahead in the jungle. Hrriss spoke softly to calm the ocelots, mad with bloodlust, who were still tearing at the twitching corpse of the snake.

  “But I plunged the spear through its brain! It is dead, by my hand. I claim the kill,” the visitor insisted.

  Todd let his eyes meet those of the strange Hrruban. The visitor possessed a very broad back stripe, indicating that he held a position of rank in Hrruban society.

  “With the greatest of respect,” Todd said, dropping into full formal Hrruban which forced him to suppress the fury he felt, “there can be no doubt that the creature was already dying when you rode forward.”

  The broad stripe was somewhat taken aback by his host’s use of the formal language. Since that was used only during events of the greatest importance, it was ingrained in the Hrruban not to disagree with the speaker without considerable forethought. Hrrula, an old ally of Todd’s, waited silently nearby.

  “Perhaps we will discuss the matter later,” Todd said politely, gesturing to the Team Two leader. “We must complete the Hunt. Time is pressing.”

  “Quite right, honored guests,” Hrrula said, having slathered the snake slashes and scale pinches with vrrela salve. “With your permission, Zodd Rrev, we must catch up with our team. We are needed.” Before the strangers could protest, the Hrruban grabbed the rein of one of the horses and pulled it after him. The animal obediently followed the lead mount. In a moment, all three of them were out of sight.

  Todd mounted up again. He sent a concerned glance toward Hrriss. “There’s a snake blind only a hundred meters ahead, if you need a rest.”

  “I am all right,” Hrriss assured him. “Truly. There is no real damage. The circulation will return to the leg in a short time. It could have been worse.”

  “Could have been much worse,” Todd said. Then, with a wicked grin, he added, “It could have been your tail!”

  “Team Three leaving the spawning grounds,” his radio announced. “They’re moving slow this year. Vic just herded a couple of tiddlers that were trying to leave the grounds from the wrong side. Look out for ’em. They’re mad.”

  “Fardles!” Todd put his heels to his horse. Hrriss’s episode had taken only a few minutes from start to finish.

  The sound of hoofbeats pounding up behind her made Kelly swivel about in concern. One, no, two horses returning. She relaxed and smiled as Todd and Hrriss passed her.

  “Hrriss did it in!” Todd called. Hrriss was leaning to the right, obviously favoring his left leg. “Good kill. Mommy Snake! Fifteen and a half meters or I’ll eat it. But he’d better not get a big head, or he won’t get through the trees!”

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” Kelly said to Hrriss, at the same time pulling a face at Todd. “That was a magnificent tackle! I hope those two Hrrubans realize you saved their lives.”

  “Those foolish ones were made to understand that by Zodd,” Hrriss assured her, his tail tip lashing to one side of his saddle. The others c
heered and shouted encouragement to him as he resumed his place in the line. Todd moved ahead and raised his radio on high as a signal to move out. Kelly told the other team leaders that Todd was in charge again and clipped her own box to her belt.

  They were moving swiftly up on the most dangerous part of the Hunt. The team was about to leave the jungle and move out on featureless grasslands. Without the trees to restrict them, the snakes often attempted to escape from their shepherds and go in search of landbound food. The task of keeping the swarm together the rest of the way was made more difficult by the local land-owner.

  Twenty-five years ago, when the Treaty allowed more Humans in, to match the Hrruban population, Codep had added four families to the original eleven in the First Village. The Boncyks were one of those four. In spite of warnings from the established colonists that the snakes used this area as a thoroughfare twice a year, Wayne claimed the fertile plain not far from the marsh for his family’s holdings. On top of that disregard for local wisdom, the Boncyks compounded their problems by running herds of cattle and teams of pigs, China and Poland. Naturally the snakes, especially the hungry tiddlers, found the smell of live meat irresistible. The larger ones, with the larger hungers, would go berserk if the wind shifted to tantalize them with the odor of edibles.

  To prevent wholesale slaughter, this was when the teams had to be most alert. The Hunters were already tired. Fortunately the snakes were wearing out, too, but they became more cantankerous and tricksy. Once the tantalizing Boncyk farmlands were past, the salt marshes were not far, and once the snakes reached them, they would disperse while the teams remained on guard to drive back any who might decide to return to dry land—and fat cows and pigs. When the last of the snakes were back in the salt marshes, hunting the rodents, waddlers, waders, and other such tidbits, the Hunt would be declared over and the triumphant teams would return to the village common, except for the skeleton force that remained on guard until the next morning.

  Jilamey had had his eye on a pair of young adolescent snakes almost since he rejoined the run. With the bare treetops of the marsh wood in sight, he was going to have to move quickly to capture his quarries before they vanished into the fetid waters. Kelly watched him measuring the distance to the edge of the marsh.

  With a now-or-never expression on his face, Landreau spurred his horse toward the pair. He had his quarterstaff well balanced in his right hand, confident that he could knock the snakes on their blunt skulls, stunning them, and secure them alive.

  In theory, it was a good idea. However, it failed utterly to take into account the nature of snakes. As soon as Jilamey thumped one of the fleeing tiddlers in the back of the head with the heavy staff, it turned. As quickly as patterned lightning grounding through a rod, the snake swarmed up the quarterstaff, hissing furiously. It wrapped its wrist-thick coils around Jilamey’s arm and struck at him. The long, white teeth snapped on nothing as the youth ducked and thrashed at his assailant.

  Letting her crossbow dangle, Kelly drew her knife and kicked Calypso to the rescue. The snake struck again, this time penetrating flesh. With a screech that ascended into the soprano register, Jilamey warded off the snake and started clubbing the reptile over the head with the butt of his little gun, which he had grabbed in desperation. To the surprise of those observing the fracas, the snake dropped limp across the saddlebow. In the berserk frenzy of panic, Jilamey kept battering the twitching body even after the others had called to him to stop.

  “Now, don’t that beat all!” Don exclaimed, laughing. “That micro-sized popgun did some good, after all!”

  “Well, gather him up before he slides off your lap!” Kelly ordered Jilamey, reining in next to him and expertly digging her fingers for a firm hold on the slippery scales. With her free hand, she fumbled for a snake bag and passed it over. “I don’t think you remembered one of these. Cram it in and be sure you tie the neck of the sack as tight as possible. They’ve been known to wiggle free if they’ve any space.”

  “I did it, didn’t I? I captured one!” Jilamey’s red face was now suffused with incredulous triumph and his voice broke a bit on the “captured.”

  “If you remember to get it in the bag,” Hrrin called, teeth showing under his feathery brown moustache. Although excitement made his hands shake, Jilamey managed to stuff the limply uncooperative and slithery coils of snake into the bag and securely fastened the tie. “Congratulations. You’re half-way there!” Hrrin added.

  Still holding the bag, Jilamey looked about him, not certain what to do with his prize. Jan took pity on him and helped him secure it to the saddle on rings embedded in the saddle tree for just such a purpose. Eyes shining, Jilamey galloped to rejoin Team One. Jan followed more sedately, an indulgent grin on her face.

  Just inside the boundaries of his ranch, Wayne sat on his horse, flanked by his wife, Anne, and their eldest son. Nearby, on a pair of nervously curvetting horses, were Wayne’s guests for the Hunt, a couple from the Hrruban home world. They were all armed with crossbows with explosive quarrels, ready to deal with any reptiles escaping from the cordon. The younger Boncyk hefted a bazooka on his right shoulder while his horse shifted under him, trying to balance itself against the weight. Wayne posed another problem to the teams: he was a notoriously bad shot. He had a tendency to detonate the ground right in front of a Hunter’s horse more often than the snake it was pursuing. Todd’s horse had been spooked by one of Wayne’s bombs the year before, dumping him in the pigpens, so he kept one wary eye on the stockman as they passed him.

  Kelly could feel the wind shifting as they came up the hill. That was the worst thing that could happen. Instead of a following breeze that swirled the heady snake musk around them, a new stench filled the air, as potent as snake, blindingly putrid as well as sickly sweet.

  “Faugh,” Kelly said, averting her head and wondering if it would do any good to jerk her scarf over her nose.

  “Oh, no,” Todd groaned. “Pig air!”

  Not only pig was in the air but also the delectable aroma of livestock, blown directly from the Boncyk herds and teams into the noses of ravenous snakes. In a maneuver as planned as a dress parade, the snakes turned, a great river of rippling, leaf-patterned hide across the Hunters’ cordon, rolling uphill toward the farm buildings. With no river, hill, or wood between the snake thoroughfare and the farm, there were no barriers to deflect the snakes’ inexorable approach.

  The moment the pig stink came his way, Todd called for the Sighter crafts to pick up Lures and make a drop near the marsh in an attempt to divert the main bulk of the reptiles. Then he called for any available Beaters and Hunters. The teams spread themselves out across the field to try and contain the flow and regain control. Kelly could hear the screaming farm animals, their cries reaching up the scale to pure panic. They seemed to sense their danger despite the shift of the wind. Boars might have stood and faced the reptiles, but not the gentler China and Poland pigs who were milling about their sturdy pens with no refuge from the approaching menaces. Even if the pressure of the terrified animals broke down the pen bars, they hadn’t the speed to outrun snakes. The only hope of saving them was to head the snakes off again, with full firepower if need be, before they reached the pens.

  “Stop them!” Boncyk called, galloping up, waving his crossbow. “My pigs!”

  “Damnit, Wayne, you’ve been told year after year to get those pigs out of here before spawning season!” Don snapped.

  “The sows are farrowing this month! I can’t move them when they’re birthing; they’re too set in their ways.”

  “They’re not the only ones,” Don grumbled under his breath, but Kelly heard him and grinned.

  The stockman and his retinue galloped after Team One, haranguing Todd all the way. Todd had one object in mind: to stand between the threatened sties and the onrush of snakes, firing to turn them away. It was unlikely that they could save all the animals, but he meant his team to try.


  The wooden enclosures were too far apart and too big for the Hunters to surround. The team hauled their horses to a halt, giving them a breather as they assessed the best vantage points before the swarm arrived.

  Todd and Hrriss decided that they’d best guard the narrow path between the two barns that lay between the snakes and their prey. Bottling them up in that space would make them easier to turn, with some scud bombs to halt them and give the ones behind pause. The older and bigger snakes were smart enough to sense the danger of such tight quarters and turn back to look for easier pickings in the marshes.

  Wayne and his family flanked the edges of the buildings, concentrating on the reptiles who would avoid the main route and try to slip around. Still watching the way the wind blew, Kelly realized that the wind carrying the pigs’ scent was blowing directly toward the worn pathway, and not back into the main mass of reptiles. If the wind shifted, they’d be surrounded in minutes. And goodbye, Boncyk Bacon.

  The defiant screams of the team’s horses echoed off the high walls to either side of them. The slower-moving snakes were nearly there. Kelly had never noticed before what a terrifying sound their bellies made, slithering on the dry grass. Oh, a single snake could be silent when it was sneaking up on its prey, but dozens and hundreds of them made the grass hiss beneath them.

  “Don’t worry about tiddlers,” Todd cried. “It’s the big ones that we need to turn back. They can swallow a sow whole.”