by JL Curtis
Daman’s smile deepened, “Oh, we had a slight disagreement over my campsite. I stuck the stove in its mouth, and got behind it. I used this,” patting his kukri at his belt. “And it lost, once I figured out the overlap pattern on the scales.” Flicking the necklace, he added, “This is just one claw. The others are at home, along with his shell.”
Fargo shook his head in wonder, “Just another day in the field, eh?”
All the Ghorkas laughed as Daman said, “Pretty much. We’re not real good at backing up, or backing away from trouble.”
Fargo flashed back to his dead team. Shit, I swore I wasn’t going to lead anybody again, and I get Ghorkas. I’ve never worked with them, but there are plenty of stories. Smiling he replied, “So I’ve heard. Well, I’m a former Terran Marine, retired GalScout. I’m the newbie, so y’all tell me what I need to know, and how I can fit in.”
Glancing up, he saw Mikhail smiling and guessed he’d taken the right approach. “Kamala, can you give me an overview brief on the sensor package?”
She smiled, “More than happy to. What should we call you?”
“Ethan or Fargo, I’ll answer to both.”
***
Fargo eased out of the Hab module and met Jiri at the far end as he climbed down from the overwatch chair on top, “All’s quiet, Fargo. Nothing moving that I could see. NVGs are giving about three hundred yards of vis. You sure you’re good for the entire twelve hours?”
Fargo took the goggles as he replied, “Yep, good to go. I want to get a full night to try to get an empathic baseline of area, and doing the overnight should give me any night animals that might be in the area, but outside the NVGs range.”
Climbing to the top of the module, he sat in the chair mounted under the sensor head, and was surprised at how comfortable it was. Checking his fields of fire, he snapped the rifle to his shoulder and spun the chair 360 degrees. Satisfied that he had plenty of clearance, he dropped the rifle back to his lap and slowly scanned the full 360 degrees, taking his time to register features that he knew would look different at night. Sniffing the air, he was disappointed to find no scent of pines, only the scent of dusty grass, sand, and the residual burned smell from the lasers.
Near the middle of the watch, his radio buzzed, and Kamala said, “Something large at eight thirty from the Hab. Acoustics only, no visual.”
Fargo clicked his mic twice and spun to look in that direction. Scanning back and forth to prevent a blind spot, he spent fifteen minutes staring down the bearing and extending his empathic sense, but nothing showed, or popped into his mind.
With an hour to go, he saw movement, and swiveled to honor the threat. It was low to the ground, moving in a jerky manner, and almost seemed to be running an evasive approach for lack of a better word. Fargo pulled the rifle to his shoulder, got a good sight picture and waited.
Ten minutes later, Fargo dropped the rifle back in his lap. Fucking Trashpanda, sixty pounds of a cross species breeding way too smart for its own good, and gets into everything… Geez… I wonder if that is why Kamala never said anything. Programmed to ignore? He heard rattling at the end of the Hab and hopped up, walked to the ladder, and sure enough, the Trashpanda was trying to get a grip on the next rung of the ladder. Fargo tried shooing it off by waving his arms, but that didn’t work.
He hissed, “Go away you little mooch!” but that didn’t work either. The panda finally got a grip on the next rung and started scrambling up the ladder. Fargo debated whether to try to poke it off the ladder with his rifle, take out the pistol and shoot it, or take the knife to it.
Deciding not to shoot it, Can’t wake the sleepers needlessly, he pulled out the vibro knife and flicked it on. The Trashpanda froze, then dropped quickly to the ground and scuttled away from the Hab as fast as it could go. Fargo smiled in relief as he safed the knife and returned it to its holster.
***
Two days later, the antenna was up, the RCAs in, and the techs were making their final connections. The power feed from the terraformer was online, and one tech was in the process of balancing the power and e-tainment riding it as the support shuttle landed.
Mikhail returned in a foul mood, grumbling about Klynton and Cameron’s demands for more power and more control over the e-tainment that rode the power beam. He’d disappeared into the RCA as soon as he grabbed a bulb of coffee and checked with Fargo, mumbling something about getting done and getting home.
The security team were doing the final checks on the sonic fence modules, pending putting power on them and Fargo had volunteered to take the last watch, so he could see how the modules were connected and worked.
Fargo felt the sonic fence come up, that tingling feeling that said ‘something’ was running, but not in a range that the human ear was capable of hearing. It was different from the ‘sizzle’ of the power running into the subfeeder. Figuring he was done, he headed for the ladder but Mikhail climbed on top and stood next to him, “Now it gets interesting. This is the first firing of the subfeeder, so we should be able to see it go out as a heat beam as it burns through the air. And I want to make sure nothing goes up in smoke up here either.”
Fargo looked up at the multi-headed subfeeder and hoped they’d actually gotten the alignments all correct. As he glanced back, he saw something flash out of the corner of his eye, “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
As he brought his rifle up Fargo said, “I thought I saw a flash down where that band of green is.”
He felt the first sizzle in the air as he dimly heard Mikhail yelling, “Abort, abort, abort!”
Commanding the holosight to max, he quickly scanned the area where he saw the flash, then saw another flash. It was a liteflyer, swooping and diving in and out of one of the canyons. “It’s a liteflyer, I can barely make it out,” Fargo yelled, as Mikhail scrambled down the ladder. Keeping the liteflyer in his sights, he saw a sudden flare and it disappeared into the canyon.
Fargo scrambled down the ladder as he felt the sizzling buzz stop moments later. He met Mikhail at the base of the ladder, “The flyer is down. I’ve got a mark…”
Mikhail grabbed him, “Let’s go. We can take the shuttle.” As the Ghorka boiled out of the Hab, he continued, “Jiri, Adhit with us. Kamala, check the sensors! See if you got anything on a liteflyer down the hill. I think we just burned one down.”
***
Mikhail cursed long and loud when he couldn’t find a place to land the shuttle, and Fargo finally said, “Dammit, just stop. We’ll rope down, and see if anyone is alive. Get the authorities on the way as soon as you can. We’ll make sure we document everything so that any evidence isn’t compromised.”
Fargo went off the aft ramp first, and as soon as he hit the ground and cleared the downdraft, smelt a smell he’d hoped to never encounter again, that of a burned body. Jiri and Adhit came down moments later and the shuttle peeled off and accelerated away, rope still dangling. They cautiously made their way down the side of the canyon, guided by the smell. Adhit finally said, “Ah, long pig for dinner again.”
Jiri and Fargo both laughed, knowing it was Adhit’s way of handling what he was pretty sure they were going to find. They finally saw the crashed liteflyer about forty feet ahead, and Fargo said, “Adhit, can you bring up the rear and put your datacomp on record? We’re going to need documentation for all of this. Jiri, you’re security backing us up…”
Jiri and Adhit both agreed, and they moved slowly forward. Fargo slung his rifle and used his vibro knife to cut away the vines. The smell grew stronger, and Fargo wished for a cigar or nose plugs, when he felt a tap on the shoulder. Turning he saw Jiri offering a small twisted smokestick. Taking it, he struck it on his pant leg, and inhaled, then coughed.
“Oh my God, Jiri, what the hell is this? Dried yak turds?”
Everyone laughed as Jiri said, “Only the finest Yeti turds, straight from the Himalayas!”
Fargo took another drag, coughed and said, “Okay, let’s do this.” They care
fully approached the remnants of the flyer, noting the wings sheared off and stuck higher in the trees, but the main fuselage was pancaked into the floor of the canyon.
There were two cooked bodies in the cockpit, one apparently female in the pilot’s seat, and one probably male in the passenger’s seat. Fargo reached in to confirm there was no pulse, knowing there wouldn’t be, but following procedure for the datacomp. He said, “No pulse, no respiration on either person. Reaching in and shutting the power switch off for safety purposes. No sound from the anti-grav at this time.”
As he started to step away, he saw a small pack in the back seat. Picking it up, he opened it and found the female’s ID chip. Flashing it to the datacomp he read, “Jill Gann, age twenty-three, White Beach. We will hold for the authorities.”
Investigation
After he’d reported the one name they’d found to Mikhail, which brought a brief round of cussing from him, before the mic had cut off. After a quick consult, they’d spread out with Fargo leaned against a tree upwind of the crash, rifle in a hunter’s carry, Jiri and Adhit were spread about thirty yards either side of him as they all swept the surrounding area for any threats. Suddenly, Fargo sensed something moving toward the crash from deeper in the canyon, “Jiri, Adhit, something coming from deeper in the canyon. It’s hungry.”
Jiri and Adhit had a quick conversation in their own language, then Adhit said mournfully, “I’m betting it’s not one of the normal predators. Not our lucky day.”
Unconsciously, they’d moved closer together, and moved around the crash site to take up a position between whatever Fargo was sensing and the site, odor be damned. After a couple of minutes, they heard intermittent noises but couldn’t pick up any movement. Jiri said, “Not good. If we’re not seeing anything it’s low to the ground.”
Adhit added, “Probably a Slashgator. Oh joy, oh joy.”
Fargo turned sharply, “If it is, how to we kill it?”
Adhit laughed, “Feed it a stove?”
Jiri replied, “My rifle won’t penetrate the scales,” glancing at Fargo’s rifle, he continued, “Don’t think yours will either. The only way to kill it is to flip it over, or somehow get an upward angle to shoot it in the belly.”
“Movement!” Adhit said quietly.
“Damn, it is a Slashgator,” Jiri said.
Fargo finally saw it and cocked his head, “Why isn’t it attacking us?”
Adhit replied, “We’re no threat to it. It’ll get around to us after it finishes lunch.”
Fargo, dropped slowly to his knees, then prone, bringing the rifle to his shoulder. He looked up at Jiri, “See if you can get it to raise its head.”
Jiri said softly, “It’s too fast. It will be on you before you can shoot.”
Fargo said, “Guess I better be pretty accurate, then.”
They heard the moan of a shuttle overhead, but none of them took the chance of looking up, not wanting to take their eyes off the Slashgator for a second. It had finally sensed them, and turned, lifting its snout slightly. Fargo commanded the holoscope to medium magnification and could see a little bit of a gap between the rows of teeth. Fifty yards, way too fucking close. Do I try it, or… “Target,” Fargo said aloud.
The hiss/crack of the 16mm rifle was almost drowned out by the shuttle as it settled lower in the canyon, causing the trees to sway. The wings of the flyer were blown out of the trees, and fluttered to the ground and dust and dirt sent flying, but Fargo never broke his concentration. He saw the ‘gator snap, as if trying to bite whatever had hit it, then it opened its mouth in a roar as it started charging them.
Fargo’s shots were metronomic, a half second apart, centered on the charging ‘gator’s mouth. Somehow he was able to keep track of the rounds fired and after ten, he was beginning to despair of ever stopping the beast. At fifteen shots, Fargo resigned himself. Well, at least I got to see Luann, Ian and Inga…
After two more shots, he realized Jiri and Adhit were screaming at him, and the ‘gator had stopped. Its head was still moving, but the body wasn’t. Getting up wearily, he was blown back to his knees by the shuttle that was hovering overhead. It finally moved off toward the side of the canyon, and Fargo could hear again. Jiri and Adhit were saying, “You got it, you got it. It’s all but done.” He noted both of them had dropped their weapons and pulled their kukris, meaning they were ready to fight to the death.
Picking up his rifle, he saw the Slashgator was only five feet from him, and he shuddered. One second, maybe… That’s what I had left. As he watched it, the head dropped slowly, and the greenish blood stopped flowing from the mouth.
Adhit handed his kukri to Fargo, “You need to finish it. I think you broke his spine with those shots, but you need to cut its hearts.”
With Adhit’s advice, he finally managed to get the kukri between the plates and press it deep into the Slashgator’s body. When he finally pierced the hearts, he felt the beast shudder once more, then go totally limp.
***
Twenty minutes later, the three of them heard crashing through the woods coming from the direction of the shuttle’s landing. As the noises came closer, they moved back to the initial point where they had entered the accident scene and waited. Finally, a group of people appeared, some GalPat soldiers in uniform, a few men in civilian clothes, and one hysterical female, already screaming and sobbing.
A GalPat major stepped to the front saying belligerently, “What happened here? And who are you?”
Fargo saw both Ghorkas tense out of the corner of his eye, and he shifted his rifle to a hunter’s carry, “Name’s Fargo. We were first on scene. Saw the liteflyer go down. We have records of scene approach and checks we ran. Both pax DOA, master power is off. Backpack in the back seat where we…”
The hysterical woman burst by the major and Fargo screaming, “You bastards let my baby die!” as she ran toward the remnants of the fuselage. The wind shifted suddenly, and the woman caught a whiff of the dead bodies, went to her knees and began puking, screaming and crying at the tail of the wreckage.
The major sneered, “I’m the investigating officer. I will make the determination of what happened here. Don’t need any of you civilian security experts telling me what happened. I’ll need to confiscate all your weapons and datacomps. I saw you down there shooting into the brush when we came in. If, big if¸ we determine you didn’t physically shoot the flyer down, you might get your guns back if you’re polite.”
Fargo started to retort when Mikhail pushed by the GalPat troops to stand by Fargo, “Don’t say a word Fargo. Major Palette, you have no right to take anyone’s weapons, nor do you have a right to confiscate any datacomps. I have already provided HQ with the tapes we’ve pulled from the sensor suite, and it proves Ms. Gann was in this area illegally.”
Glaring at the major he continued, “There were air/flight notices posted, along with notifications on e-tainment systems throughout the area to not fly in this area over these three days. Also the autopilot should have automatically exited the area, or grounded the flyer for the duration of the notice. You know that as well as I do. That it didn’t is suspect, to put it mildly.”
The woman had recovered enough to approach the cockpit, and let out a blood curdling scream, then collapsed as she got a look at what was left of her daughter. That broke the tableau up, with the major and others moving forward. One slight, mousy civilian stopped, “Uh, Mr. Fargo, I’m Allan. I’m one of the liteflyer examiners. I’d appreciate any data you might have. I can accept a feed right here,” he said, holding up a sealed case.
Fargo nodded, “Works for me. Jiri? Adhit? Adhit was the primary recorder, but you’re welcome to all of our datacomps info.” Allan set the case down, opened it, powered it up and pulled out a cable.
“How long have y’all been out here,” Allan asked.
“About a week, total.”
“Mind if I pull the entire week?”
Fargo glanced at Jiri and Adhit, “Nope, fine by me.
&n
bsp; Allan diddled with a screen, and attached the magnetic cable to each datacomp in turn, verifying there was data being collected. Glancing at Fargo’s rifle, he asked, “Did you use the rifle and have you cleared the memory on the holoscope?”
Fargo shook his head, “That’s how I saw enough detail to see that it was a liteflyer and no, I haven’t cleared it. Do you want that too?”
Allan said, “It might help.” Allan attached the cable to the holoscope and the data blipped across.
A shaken, pale Mikhail came up, “My God. I hope I never see that again. Cooked in their own juices. Thankfully, the control panel is in good enough shape that there shouldn’t be any issues over this. It’s plain the autopilot emergency disconnect was pulled. Watch out for Major Palette, he’s an ass kisser, head of palace guard, oh did I say that; governor’s office security, and bucking for promotion.”
“Who’s the hysterical woman? And who the hell let her out here?”
Mikhail rolled his eyes, “Probably my fault. I passed the name. That’s Gann’s mother. She’s Klynton’s number two, that’s how they got out here so quick. They jumped on the governor’s shuttle with whomever was standing there, I think. Allan is a good guy, he works with us to put up notices, and he runs all accident investigations on Hunter. I think the rest of the GalPat troops are part of the palace guard. I don’t really know who the others are.”
“Lovely. We’ve already turned over our datacomp and holoscope data to Allan.”
“Good! At least he got them before the major had a chance to muddle everything up. He’s a grunt, doesn’t know the first thing about flyers or flying.”