He figured that the big lizards were like the ones found on prehistoric Old Earth, so the guy came up with a different idea: one that stuck.
They turned the whole damn planet into a game preserve.
All across the galaxy, the most daring folk dropped in to try and bag one of the bigger beasties, and hell if a few didn't end up with some mighty fine trophies in the end.
Many more of 'em ended up torn to shreds.
There was something a little funny about the way they ran things there, Cobb always told me. Some of the finer hardware in life, energy weapons and the like, seemed a bit finicky down on the planet. The folks in charge talked about how the electromagnetic interference from solar radiation or something like that screwed 'em up. 'Course, most everyone else thought the proprietors ran some kind of device to make the challenge more...
Well, challenging.
It added to the thrill of it, using archaic metal shooters to take down some giant lizards. Flechette guns were still allowed, but they didn't have the same punch against the thick hides of the bigger beasties. And thank goodness the world sat too far out to bother with because our lovely core government probably didn't think much of the fifty percent or so fatality rate. It's no wonder they named the place Hunter's End.
In any case, Cobb found himself less sober than usual, laid off of a recent mining gig somewhere within a few weeks travel to Hunter's. The owners came by lookin' for warm bodies to be employed in their fine establishment.
"The pay was good," he'd always say, "if you could survive the term of the contract."
The amount of money the owners were raking in could afford a pretty high premium, and most of it went back into services in the tiny colony anyway. If the employee happened to pass on, well... let's just say that wills didn't often enter into the equation.
Cobb hopped from job to job down there, either by some bloke getting eaten or too scared to stick around. Drunk as he was most of the time, there wasn't a whole lot of fear or wisdom in his blood.
So Cobb became a guide.
It seemed he found his true calling in life, as Cobb, even three sheets to the wind, could always find his way out and back. He might be missing a hunter or two, but he himself always managed a return.
His last run was with a man who called himself Ivan.
Now, I've heard more than my share of stories about this guy, and the size, shape, and stature changes more often than fashion trends in the core. A tiny guy, a huge guy. He's dark-skinned, light-skinned, every Old Earth nationality put together. He's an alien, he's a devil. I'm sure you know, Archivist.
The way Cobb told it was that Ivan was huge and fair-skinned. A regular bear of a man with a rumbling laugh that would shake the walls and the liquor tolerance of a whale. Reckless and wild, he was strong as a bull with twice the temper. He'd crush you to death with a hug, and that's if he liked you.
Of course, Cobb only spent a few hours with the man, so I don't take much stock in anything but his description of Ivan's appearance. He said the man had a funny way of talkin', almost harsh in its sound. I'll try to mimic the way he portrayed it for your benefit, Archivist, but I'm not much good at that sort of thing. Hell, I don't know if Cobb had it right to begin with.
Anyway, what Cobb always said, before he got too deep into exaggeration, was that Ivan had a sense of brains inside the brutish body. "A hint of cleverness," he said. It's probably why the big fella made it outta Hunter's End with more than his own skin."
******
The settlement area stank to high heaven, due to the thick repellant necessary to keep the vicious beasts away. It worked for the most part, though they kept defense towers on the walls with pretty heavy equipment in case. The owners turned a tidy profit from the insanity and death their preserve offered, but they obviously wanted nothing to do with the massive beasts themselves.
It was a muggy afternoon when Cobb stumbled out of his bunk, strung out with a pounding headache. After the usual bout of morning retching as his body reminded him of the dangers of drinking, he took a swig from his three-quarters empty bottle of whiskey.
"Raymond," a voice called. He looked up to see the fellow with the laughable title of "Tour Planning Advisor" heading towards him.
"Mornin' boss," Cobb replied in a thick slur.
Shaking his head, the advisor replied, "It's after noon, Raymond, and we got a small group ready to go. They're looking to find Max."
Max was somewhat of a legendary figure. Supposedly he was the biggest, meanest, blood-thirstiest lizard on the planet. The beast was rumored to have been the end of more than three hundred wayward hunters.
"I sawr 'im plain as day," Cobb told anyone who would hear it, especially if the individual be willing to provide drinks for the duration of the story. "Th' meanest sumbitch, fitty feet high with bigass teeth and leathery skin tough as starship plate. I tell ya, Max'd chewed up 'is share of dumbass gunnies. He had nuttin' on Ivan though."
Following behind the advisor, Cobb vaguely wondered, as he always did, if this would be his last run. The pay was far too good though, and he considered how many other places allowed heavy intoxication on the job. The customers were too reckless to care about that particular added risk, and the owners didn't care much about the guides or the guests.
"They're already waiting by the transport," the advisor told Cobb, who nodded and took off at a jog. Managing not to stumble or fall down, he approached the transport helicopter, the usual anti-grav or hover lifts not functioning due to the interference.
Cobb's jaw hit the floor when he saw the hunting party. One man was armed to the teeth. Bandoliers of ammunition and weaponry were strapped across what appeared to be every inch of his body. Slung across his back was a massive flechette rifle, the type that fired the razor clouds instead of the single rounds. Against the warnings of the establishment, he also carried an assortment of energy pistols. Hard ballistic body armor coated his torso and limbs with the matching helmet laying on the floor of the helicopter. Combat knives lay in sheathes, strapped to several locations on the armor.
The man was short, laughably so, but the armaments he carried would have kept Cobb's mouth shut even if the second man wasn't twice as scary.
He stood to be at least six and a half feet tall and three-quarters that wide. Cobb's first thought was that they brought a shaved bear along for tracking or something. He continued to gawk at the huge figure as he noted that the man slung what appeared to be an iron tube over his shoulder. Small etchings lay across its dirty and marred surface, and it took Cobb several moments to figure out the device was actually a small cannon.
"You must be Raymond Cobb," the enormous man said, crushing Cobb's hand in his grip as they shook and pounding the guide on the back. "I am Afanasi Sergeyevich Lukyanov."
Cobb stood, blinking and wondering if his hand or spine had shattered under the greeting onslaught. His scattered mind comprehended about a tenth of the name, and he gave a blank stare.
"Call me Ivan!" the man bellowed, grinning. "My associate is the very unoriginal Mister Grey." The short man gave a nod. "We are here to take down a nasty beast."
Not having rediscovered his ability to speak, Cobb nodded and gestured for them to enter the helicopter.
"Yes, yes, of course." Ivan nodded, stepping into the passenger area. Without a word, Grey jumped in as well. Cobb took his seat in the cockpit with the pilot, donning a headset as the whirling blades roared to life.
"Where to?" the pilot called through the radio, looking at Cobb with expectation.
Synapses were sluggish to fire in Cobb's brain, but the brief conversation with the advisor rolled into his mind. "They're takin' a shot at Max. You know where he'd be?"
The pilot laughed. "By the usual stomping grounds, I'd wager; it'll take us a few hours to get to the base camp near there." He shook his head. "Time enough to give these fellas their last rites?"
Cobb nodded and took a final swig from the bottle he grasped, chucking it out the window as
the craft rose into the air. He took a couple of glances at the formidable pair in the back, who appeared unconcerned that their quarry had killed so many. After a few minutes, Cobb closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He jolted awake from a shallow, dreamless nap when the helicopter touched down, for a moment forgetting where, who and what he was. The thick stink of the critter repellant brought his mind back to task, and he hopped out of the transport into one of the secondary base camps. He was quite used to the smell and even associated it with safety.
Grey and Ivan slid out, gathering their armory as they exited. Grey featured the usual grimace as he set his helmet with transparent visor in place, and Ivan wore a wide grin as he hauled the small but heavy iron cannon out. Cobb noted slots all around the large man's coat, round protrusions which must have held ammunition.
Perspiration poured down Cobb's body, quite normal with the usual heat and humidity. It appeared neither Ivan nor Grey, even heavily laden, were sweating at all.
Shouting over the winding down helicopter, Ivan noted Cobb's stare. "Olga is very beautiful, yes? Would you like to hold her?"
Ivan made as if to drop the weapon onto Cobb, at which the drunk shuffled backwards. "N-no. That's okay."
Bellowing a laugh, Ivan said, "I kid, I kid, friend. It is as well, as I am a jealous man. My Olga may be loud and unruly, but her kiss will always knock a man from his feet." Ivan lovingly patted the cannon and hoisted it over his shoulder. He turned to his companion. "Mister Grey, are we prepared to move out?"
The quiet comrade gave a nod and started walking towards the exit of the base camp.
"Wait, wait!" Cobb yelled, moving to catch up. "We need to talk about safety precautions and... and company policies on bag limits!"
Ivan shook his head. "I'm sorry, my friend, but we are on a strict deadline for this job. Can you inform us on the way?"
Cobb, confused, didn't feel like arguing with the huge man carrying the cannon. He trudged along beside the pair, mumbling through the various required pieces of information. The legal junk never meant much to him.
The company owned the planet and was technically subject to Galactic Central Government law, but enforcement was limited. Even so, having the proper warnings and policy was a good way to cover themselves in case of a surprise inspection, a lawsuit, or something else.
Grey remained quiet while they traveled through the dense jungle. He moved in front, hacking away at the overgrowth with a long knife. Cobb provided the occasional bit of direction, consulting a device when necessary to get proper bearings.
Ivan plodded along, singing loudly in a language Cobb didn't recognize. Every so often, he'd spot a small creature: a six-legged color-changer clinging to a tree, a snake hanging out of the branches, or some tiny animal scurrying through the underbrush. He'd develop a broad grin and point it out, as though each was an amazing discovery.
"So why are you fellas out here, then?" Cobb asked, shirt clinging from sweat. Taking a swig of water, he wished he hadn't exhausted his whiskey bottle.
"To hunt, my friend!" Ivan said. "I'd think that would be obvious, no?"
Cobb sputtered, "Well, ya, I know-"
Ivan laughed and slapped the guide on the back, nearly knocking the man sprawling. "Yes, yes, I'm merely poking fun. We are working for a client who wishes to have an impressive trophy on his mantle."
Paling, Cobb responded, "You don't think that Max is a little much for that?"
"My employer says to me, 'Ivan! You bring me the biggest creature in all the lands!' I find out about this place, and your employer was kind enough to tell me about this Max fellow. So I take Olga and this Mister Grey along to bring down the beast."
Checking their position, Cobb noted they were nearing the ridge, inside Max's territory. "Okay, we're gonna want to keep quiet now."
They progressed, thick underbrush pressing in on all sides. The ground started an upward incline, and they continued along. A noise, faint at first, rose as they moved: a deep rumble like boulders rolling down a mountainside. As they approached, the underbrush spread, leaving a wide path of trampled greenery.
"Goodness!" Ivan said in a whisper, noting a muddy track in the ground. Three toed, the footprint was quite deep and near the length of a man across. "The beast does not tread lightly, I see!"
Swallowing hard, Cobb didn't reply. He'd never seen Max until then, but the stories were terrifying. His body shook with fear, and he prayed these men were half as impressive as they appeared. More of the huge tracks became evident, and what Cobb realized was the stinking breath of the massive beast rattled in and out.
Up ahead, sunlight bathed a clearing of trampled, thick mud nestled up against a jutting shelf of rock. The enormous creature with its thick, leathery hide lay in an obvious sprawl within the nest.
Max, the titan who had killed hundreds, appeared to be sleeping. His massive head rested upon the ground, and his long tail laid straight out behind him.
"Motherinheaven..." Cobb breathed out, noticing the thick smell of rotting flesh spewing out of a nearby, half-eaten carcass. Smaller scavengers swarmed over the dead creature, ripping out their own share of the kill. Whatever the corpse had been was near impossible to discern considering its state. The little creatures glanced at the hunting party before returning to their meal.
Snoring away, Max didn't notice the intruders.
"Okay," Cobb whispered, twitching and wanting to run as fast as he could in the other direction. "Kill it."
Grey moved forward, unslinging his flechette rifle and taking aim.
"No, no, no!" Ivan shouted, startling the smaller animals swarming over the corpse. "This is not right, I say! The monster should be given a fighting chance, no?" Cupping his hands over his mouth, to Cobb's horror, he bellowed, "Max: scaly devilous beast! You may call me IVAN! I have come to bring you to your end!"
Shooting his companion a surprised glare, Grey turned back in time to see the creature's eye pop open. With a haste born of any hunting beast, Max scrambled to his feet and roared at the intruders.
The monster stood fifty feet long, standing on two legs with tiny forelimbs in front. The travelers gawked, marveling at his size and stature. Even Grey was stunned, only a dozen feet in front of the massive beast. Scaly hide rippled over thick muscle, and impossibly long teeth jutted down on either side of his jaws. Max crouched, clawed forelimbs twitching, while his hind legs tensed. A long tail swayed back and forth behind him.
Max appeared ready to pounce.
"I'll never know if ol' Max had any brains up in that bigass skull o' his," Cobb would say to many a traveler years later, "but I swear on my ma's Godrested soul that the sumbitch was sizin' us up. Never been so sceerd in my life."
A few moments of silence dripped by.
Max lunged forward, impossibly fast, and Grey squeezed the trigger. A burst of flechette needles peppered the face of the monster, tiny pinpricks of blood dotting and dripping from the wound. Unfazed, Max continued his charge.
Grey tried to duck as the creature twisted its neck and opened massive jaws. In an instant, the smallish man was hoisted into the air, caught within Max's mouth. Grey's eyes widened behind the clear visor of his helmet, but he gave no cry of fear or pain.
Wretched cracking noises filled the nest, and Cobb gawked in terror as Max worked his powerful jaws up and down. Brain-dead from fear and years of alcoholism, it took Cobb a few moments to realize that the sounds were not the snap and crunch of flesh and bones but of the hard ballistic armor.
Grey made no sound as his body was mashed inside the dense armor. While none of Max's arm-length teeth pierced the protective gear, the compression was enough to crack and break ribs. Max continued to ignore the man who issued the challenge and woke him up.
The captive in Max's jaws regained enough composure to yank an energy pistol from his belt and squeeze the trigger. A flash of weak light spewed out of Max's mouth, and the beast roared in surprise and anger. Max snapped his head upward, and Grey tumbled o
ut of the creature's mouth, falling with a heavy thud onto the ground. Facedown, the hunter didn't move. Recovering, with a trail of smoke billowing out of his mouth, Max glared downward and made as if to snatch Grey again.
"Come, my monstrous friend!" Ivan shouted, taking aim. "Olga would like to give you a kiss!"
Cobb dropped to the ground as a deafening explosion sounded, thinking that the cannon Ivan carried had exploded. Covering his head, he feared the shrapnel from it would tear him to pieces or wound him enough for Max to finish him off once Grey was safely down his gullet.
"I thought it were the end fer me," he'd shake his head, "but goddamned if I didn't look up and see that Ivan fella with a bigass grin."
Looking over at Max, Cobb noted the beast's almost surprised expression accompanied by a gaping red hole in his chest. Max lurched back and forth, unsteady.
The wound gushed blood, spilling down the thick hide, and wheezing sounds escaped the creature's throat. After a moment, Max fell, narrowly missing the fallen form of Grey. After twitching a few times, the beast lay still.
With a cry of triumph, Ivan raised the cannon over his head. "A worthy foe!"
Cobb whimpered on the ground, passing a terrified glance at the fallen Grey, who still didn't move.
A heavy hand fell upon him, hauling Cobb to a standing position. Ivan grinned down at him. "My Olga always aims for the heart, but let us see to our friend before we signal for the pickup, yes?"
Cobb nodded, struck silent. He and Ivan moved towards their comrade, who stirred weakly.
"Mister Grey! It is good that you are not dead!" Ivan said, gently prodding the downed man.
Grunting in pain, Grey rolled over. "Cut it out, you oaf," he rasped, his open mouth revealing blood-rimmed teeth from internal bleeding. "My ribs are broken."
The Legend of Ivan Page 2