by Steve Perry
The bear stopped sniffing and watched her. Then it raised itself up onto its hind legs, continuing to look at her.
A display to make himself look more dangerous? Or a way to see better? Both?
The bear dropped back to all fours.
Kay stood as still as a statue.
A few seconds passed. The bear looked away from her, back at what it had been eating. Then it turned and padded off. In no great hurry, but not dawdling, either.
Kay smiled. He was not showing fear, but caution. Good.
– – – – – –
Intelligent beings who did not hunt usually did not understand how prey behaved when it perceived a threat. They expected that an animal beholding something that might kill and eat it would flee as fast and as far as it could. That seldom happened. What usually took place was that the prey would move a short ways, out of quick reach, then stop to assess the situation. If the hunter didn’t move to follow, as often as not, it seemed almost as if the prey forgot it was there. If the hunter was downwind and still, prey would often resume whatever it had been doing.
There were humans who hunted. Kay had met a few, including one who took other predators armed only with a spear or blades. She respected that; the prey had a chance of winning, the human could be killed.
There was no honor in hunting unarmed prey with a weapon that could take it from a kilometer away. If you were seeking meat, and that was the only consideration? Fine, use a gun. But there was no challenge in that. If you were smarter and better armed? Pah.
The real challenge was to hunt prey that was as smart as you were and better armed. That meant doing something highly illegal though there were sometimes arrangements made between hunters who wanted the risk. On Vast, where challenges to the death were not infrequent, few needed that spur, but she knew of places where that was not so.
She had known those who had hunted or been hunted by their own kind. They claimed it was the most exciting thing that could be done.
The bear was nearly two hundred meters ahead of her, about to break out of the woods into a clearing that bordered a shallow river. She had kept downwind of the bear, and taking him there would be harder—in the woods, the trees could be used to her advantage. She could dodge around and behind them, and while the bear could climb, she could climb faster and easily change trees, while it would be too heavy to do that readily. On the flats, she would have to depend on speed and agility alone if she elected to do claw-to-claw battle. Trickier.
The smell of the water grew stronger, but it was not just the river; the threatened rain had arrived, drops beginning to patter down into the treetops.
She slowed, as the rain grew stronger, the noise quickly masking other sounds. The bear’s scent washed from the air. She couldn’t see him, smell him, nor could she hear him moving, either.
She slowed. Something was not right . . .
The rain beat down, harder. The trees stopped some of it, but the light grew dimmer, and the rain itself was heavy enough to obscure vision.
The bear was watching her.
She knew it. Where was he, that he could see her?
She moved slowly, only her head swiveling, as she scanned the trees ahead and to her sides.
Behind her—
Now she heard him, as he ran, splashing through the fresh puddles, feet thudding on the wet ground. She could feel the earth vibrating under his strides, six hundred kilos of carnivore in full charge—
—She resisted the urge to scurry up the tree next to her but, instead, pivoted, marked the running creature, then darted to her left, putting a larger tree between herself and the bear. That done, she backed away, out of his sight—
—He didn’t roar, and he was close enough that she could hear him breathing now, panting, the ground shaking more—
—The bear passed the covering tree, saw her, tried to adjust his direction. He skidded on the wet ground, scrabbled to turn, and his claws, as long as her fingers and claws combined, dug gouts of dirt and mud from the earth, spattering it in all directions—
—He slewed and dug his way toward her, and when he was five meters away and regaining speed, she leaped to her left and high, caught the bark of the fir tree with all her claws extended, and shoved off as the bear tried to stop, but slid past her perch—
—She came down behind him, hit the muddy ground, and swiped at his right rear leg, hard, trying to catch a tendon. Her claws cut bloody furrows into the fur and flesh, but too high; she didn’t feel the snag of heavy connective tissue—
—Now he roared, an ear-smiting scream of outrage. He spun around, faster than she expected, and she backed up in a hurry as he swung a clawed paw that would have broken her spine had it landed, missing by a few centimeters—
—Kay jinked to the right, clawed her way up another tree, four meters, five—
—The bear came up, jumped, and his claws tore the tree bark just under her right foot, gouging out a chunk of the underlying wood as thick as her hand from the bole—
—She leaped, over the rampant bear, to the tree to his right, gained another meter, then sprang for the ground—
—He was faster this time; he turned, dropped back to all fours before she could claw him again. He charged—
—She spun and ran, the bear right behind her. She cut left, then right, gained another two meters as he roared again—
—She zigged, zagged, jinked back and forth, and gained more ground on him. He realized what she was doing and stopped trying to stay with her every move, but kept going in the same general direction—
—He was more canny than she had figured.
—She circled to her right, forcing him to change direction. The rain came down harder; the footing became more slippery. Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed almost immediately behind it—
—She spun 180 and screamed her own wordless hunting cry. It must have surprised him because he slowed. She charged right at him. That gave him pause, but he dug in to meet the challenge, galloping toward her—
—Three meters away, she leaped at him, but high, much higher than he was prepared to deal with. He tried to come up to bat her down, but he was a half second slow, and she came down on his back. She dug her feet’s claws into him as she ran along his spine and leaped off his hindquarters—
—Lightning. Thunder. The bear screamed at her and turned—
– – – – – –
“Ah wonder how Kay’s doing up there in the rainy north woods?”
“Probably having a great time,” Jo said.
“Huntin’ a big ole brown bear with nothing but her claws? Ain’t you worried she might get hurt or killed?”
“We are talking about a trained Vastalimi fighter,” Jo said. “I’m not worried.”
In truth, she was, a little. Kay was her friend, and Alaskan brown bears were the biggest and nastiest wild animals still running loose on Earth. Something to take into consideration. David beat Goliath, but that was usually a sucker bet.
Unless of course David had been a Vastalimi in disguise . . .
“What are we talking about?” That from Gramps, who ambled into the mess hall and arrived at where Jo and Gunny sat.
“Bears,” Gunny said. “Ah understand their gallbladders will cure impotence. Maybe Kay will bring that back for you.”
“You got it wrong, Chocolatte. It’s my gallbladder that cures impotence. I let the drug companies drain it every few months—that’s what they use to make all the Cialagra they sell to treat erectile dysfunction, didn’t you know? Watered down a bunch, of course.”
Both Gunny and Jo laughed at that one.
“Ah’ll give you that, old man. You got gall in fuckin’ spades!”
– – – – – –
—Kay ran up the tree, jumped to a second one, then a third, confusing the bear. She was behind it now, and befo
re it could turn to track her, she jumped again, onto its back—
—The bear tried to shake her off, but she dropped to her belly, extended her arms, and dug her claws into his neck. She ripped upward, shredding muscle and blood vessels—
—The rainy air went ripe with the metallic stink of blood—
—He dropped and rolled, a smart move, and she barely got off in time to avoid being crushed. She hit the wet ground in a shoulder roll, made it up before he regained his feet, and flew at him again—
—He got a paw up and swung it. It was a glancing blow, and only the tip of one claw found her flesh, over the ribs on her left side, but the force of the strike was enough to knock her three meters through the air like a batted ball, opening her fur and skin in a gash that bled but not too much.
She hit, rolled up, climbed the nearest tree. He came after her, and he climbed the tree, too. They weren’t supposed to be able to do that well, adult brown bears this large, climb, but apparently, nobody told him he couldn’t—
—She was faster, and as soon as she could, she leaped to a nearby tree. Almost missed and fell, it was farther than she wanted, but—
—The bear scrambled down, but she was on the ground ahead of him, and under him in time to claw his left leg. This time, she got the tendon—
—The bear roared and she leaped back as he got to the earth. He tried to charge, realized his left leg wasn’t going to support him, and pulled up a second, then tried for her on three legs, the injured one raised slightly—
—His neck wound was bleeding freely, more so on the right side. She had gotten a big blood vessel, and it was gouting freely—
—She dodged, and he tried to claw, but the injury to his hind leg threw him off and he almost fell—
He stopped. Blood poured from the neck wound, soaking his fur. He gathered himself for another run, but only made it a few meters before he stopped chasing her.
He was running out of oxygen and the delivery method for getting more was damaged.
His breathing grew more labored; the rain had stopped, but the sound of his blood dripping onto the wet ground joined that of the water dripping from the fir needles.
He was almost done.
He looked at her, almost as if puzzled. He had been the master of his world, and this strange, small, and alien creature had come and beaten him.
After a few minutes, the bear collapsed, fell onto his side. His breathing grew more ragged. His final exhalation came, and he lay still.
With her joy at beating a killer so much bigger and stronger, Kay also felt a sense of sadness. The creature had been condemned; he would have died whether she had been here or not. She had given him a chance, and she had won, but he had been fierce and formidable.
“If there is an Other Side for you, hunt well when you arrive there,” she said.
EIGHT
“Where do you think you are going?”
Wink looked at Jo. “Nowhere in particular. Just, you know, gonna do a little jogging, to stay in shape.”
“Really? Since when?”
She didn’t buy it, nor did he expect her to; a smart fem was a joy to be around, but sometimes also a pain. Still . . .
“Hey, is it a crime that I don’t want to let myself get fat?”
“Four minutes of full-range myostim and watching your diet covers that.”
“Yeah, but it’s boring.”
“Four minutes?”
“I have an active mind. I need to keep it stimulated.”
“What you need to do is get rid of your adrenaline addiction and keep yourself alive, so we don’t have to get a new medic.”
“I’m only going to loop the base, not like I’m skying across country into the scouting zone. Any word from Kay?”
“She finished her hunt. The ranger posted an image of her with the bear. Look at your inflow.”
He touched a control on his belt com’s unit. The projection was a bit dim in the sunlight, but enough to see Kay standing next to a dead creature that dwarfed her.
“Holy shit. That thing is huge! Must be ten times her weight.” He looked a bit closer. “She’s got an injury, left side, on the ribs. It’s been glued shut, but it dug a furrow there.”
“Changing the subject, Wink.”
“Kay is the one you need to be talking to about this. I didn’t go hunting a monster with nothing but my knife.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Look, Jo, I’m just going to take a short run around the camp, not leaving the area.”
“If you did, you wouldn’t get far.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re a smart man, Wink. Think about it.”
He did. “Formentara.”
“Yep.”
“Our implant locators are not supposed to be triggered except in an emergency.”
“Your leaving the base would be considered that.”
“Yeah, well, if I don’t leave the base—”
“It stays inert. But you know how clever Formentara is. Zhe has yours rigged with a proximity trip. Get outside the specified range? We get a tattle.”
“Motherfucker.”
“Just looking after our investment here.”
“Does Rags know about this? This isn’t in our contracts.”
“His idea.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well. He nodded his okay when I told him about it.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t planning to stray.”
“I believe you. But if something caught your attention on your run you wanted to investigate?”
“Can’t fault a man for natural curiosity.”
“Sure I can. Have a nice run.”
“You know what? I don’t feel like it anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you aren’t. I think I’ll go and eat something. I’ll myostim to work it off.”
He wasn’t really mad.
She knew it, too.
– – – – – –
Wink leaned against the wall of the little conference room and watched Gunny finish her coffee. “Doesn’t it sound like fun?”
“Not really, no,” Gunny said.
Wink said, “Come on, it’s your chance to see local color, relax a little.”
“Rags said you could?”
“Yes. Well, if somebody went with me.”
“He doesn’t trust you alone.” Not a question.
“I need to get away, I’m getting cabin fever here.”
“And you are asking me because . . . ?”
“Hey, you do this all the time.”
“That’s work. What makes you think Ah’d do it for fun? And why me? Jo turned you down?”
“I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of asking. She would enjoy being my babysitter too fucking much.”
“Right. And Kay would draw a crowd, and neither Gramps nor Rags would go with you on a bet, so Ah’m it?”
“You wound me, Gunny.”
“You say that a lot, and yet Ah never see any blood.”
“Come on. I’ll owe you one. And it’ll be fun, really.”
She thought about it. “Okay. If you promise to behave.”
“Absolutely!”
– – – – – –
As pubs went, Gunny had seen worse, but this one was not going to make anybody’s list of great expressions of Terran architecture. It was a plain, prefab block that had weathered under years of Tejas sun and rain, edges smoothed, color faded, a crunched corner that looked as if somebody had slammed into it driving a cart at speed. Some bits of fresh graffiti here and there. The windows were small, high, cloudy, and pitted plastic, with glowing signs that advertised beer, ale, and liquors.
A country place, and picked becau
se it was close. She’d been in places like it all over the galaxy. Local pub, mostly local people, and you could get into trouble or not, depending on your attitude.
A large, muscular, sleepy-looking fellow stood by the door, nodding at people coming and going.
No sign forbidding weapons she could see.
“Welcome to the Dew Drop Inn,” Gunny said.
Wink said, “My kind of place. Shall we?”
“Ah don’t know why Ah let you talk me into this.”
“Sure you do. You were as bored as I was. How many times can you let Rags outshoot you before you get terminally depressed?”
“Fuck you.”
“That would work for me, but I know your heart wouldn’t be in it. How about we just get a beer and observe the locals in their native habitat? The war will kick off soon, then we’ll have stuff to do.”
Gunny shrugged. Getting away from a war zone for a cold beer? Lot worse ways to relax. And she had spent a lot of time in such establishments, that being part of her sub-rosa work for CFI all along. Need somebody to check out the local watering hole? Gunny is your gal . . .
The inside was no improvement on the outside. There was a long, black, scarred everplast bar that ran almost the entire length of the room, liquor bottles shelved behind that, in front of an unbreakable plastic mirror. Looked as if more than a few people had tested that unbreakable part; the mirror was dinged and scratched, and there were what surely were bullet holes here and there.
Gave the ambience all by itself, that mirror.
Of course, there was the smell, a pungent blend of cooked food, stale beer, dopesmoke, bodywash, sweat, perfume, and pheromones, as ventilators tried to, but couldn’t quite, exhaust the atmosphere created by this many people doing things in this tight a space.
Gunny knew how it would be here: An hour after shift end on a fifth night, this place would be bouncing, stuffed to the doors, like a grenade with a the timer started. Not a matter of “if,” but “when” before somebody got pissed off and started a fight . . .
The people inside were diverse, but there were a lot of mostly young men in faux-cowboy clothes—denim jeans held up with wide belts and big shiny buckles, tight shirts in various bright colors. They wore pointy-toed boots, and more than a few had wide-brimmed hats, either on their heads or hung on pegs nearby.