6

  First Strike

  I explored. I ventured, and I found destruction. My landing site had been removed by several sectors from the core of chaos. I scaled the cliffs and ranges for six days, slaughtered many creatures and enjoyed the land’s fauna. It was when I left the planet’s natural forests and tread into the acrid, fume-choked lands of Mankind did I discover the true nature of this place.

  All plant life had been pulverized into cratered mashings of soil. Fissured earth sectioned and bordered arbitrarily, jutting off into stray directions, piled over with all manner of war trinkets. For some reason I did not understand, the human warriors had placed great contraptions of steel in parts of the land, wrapped in all manner of trapping wire that I observed as blatant and ill-conceived. I detected many hidden traps, however, buried under the soil. Still, to my vision sensors it was rudimentary, but I understood its efficacy against other primitives.

  Up and down shattered earth, I found the evidence of life and death. Tattered fabrics and rotting limbs, pools of mud and other fluids. Cloaked, I prowled among recent battlefields. I picked up their simple weapons and turned them over, inspected the firing mechanisms and the way these Humans had shaped the planet’s own natural lumber into ballistics delivery systems. Among the blasted earth, I observed hundreds of destroyed trees, some burned and smoldered, shattered by some manner of ordinance that seemingly arrived vertically.

  While I searched and observed, I saw that the lower lifeforms had mostly all fled. All except the lowest lifeforms, those that might still survive off this destruction. Rodents. It seemed even those creatures had developed habits to best navigate the nature of Mankind. My vision flared with thermal imaging, I watched their little bodies scamper among old corpses and scattered limbs, feasting on what little morsels they could find. I sank down into a cratered hole, where a single rodent chewed on the corpse of a Human male, and I clasped the rodent with a snap of my claws.

  It squirmed. I turned it over, switched my imaging to view the structures of its inner biology. The little thing feebly tried to bite at my thumb, so I squeezed it tighter. After a close look, I found the creature flesh unworthy to adorn and flung the furry little body aside. I turned my attention to the dead Human. Some manner of excessive concussive force had annihilated most of the legs and lower torso, in a manner that I found both uncivilized and impressive. I looked upon the face, where rotted flesh remained over the chewed-up and exposed skull. It was a gruesome display, and I found these Human’s complete lack of regard for the corpse’s display immeasurably loathsome.

  Were that I to kill a hundred of them, their deaths would not be near the level of destruction they do unto themselves. I flung the corpse down into the mud and leapt from the crater.

  I continued my hunt. In the third week since my arrival on Earth, I heard a great rumble that trembled through the ground. There came an asynchronous vibration that carried both a mechanical grinding sound and the foul stench of spewing fumes. I slid into the shrouding of the trees.

  Many machines rolled down stretches of land in neatly, orderly formations. I realized why this land remained so beaten and shattered. Mud and fumes spewed from the machines as the Humans rode their formations from sector to sector, and I saw from my vantage that they were different. The vehicles were outfitted with many specimens, all dressed in matching attire with minor variation, all of them equipped with weaponry that far exceeded the elderly male I had previously slew. Among those handheld weapons wielded by single fighters, there rolled a metallic beast-like contraption of hunkered alloy, driven not on wheels but rolling treads, fielding not small arms but a cannon.

  Such prey! I followed. For hours at a time, I watched.

  The fighters moved at an effective pace. They rolled through a hastily cleared path into the trees and seemingly ended their march there. The Metal Beast remained a distance from the trees, guarded by another pack of fighters.

  Inside the clearing at the foot of the forest, the first pack scaled the sloping hills until they came upon a half-built campground. The Leader, hands folded around its weapon, barked fiercely and often, and the subordinates rushed to carry out those deeds. On the Leader’s chestwear, it wore a sigil of an avian creature native to Earth, cast in brass and gleaming in the light of the dawn. Among those embellishments, the Leader wore many strips of ribbons in a pattern across the chest, another set of sigils that I did not understand, and below that a warbelt buckled across the stomach fitted with assorted tools and a sidearm. It appeared to be an impressive specimen. It carried much authority.

  I shall kill it.

  The grunts approached the Leader and made inquiries. Many were youths even by Human standards, but the older Human warriors as well gathered around the Leader and engaged in discussions. I set my claws upon the branch in front of me and pushed it aside for better vantage. Down there and a distance away in the valley, the Leader directed its clan into motion, organizing their formations inside their fume-spewing vehicles. The Leader then climbed into a dark machine with wheels and spurred off down the beaten road between the trees.

  A delightful, new beginning. I trilled gleefully and kicked from the trunk of the tree, down soil and broke off into a gallop. I leapt up sloped hills and sprinted into the thicket of forest, vaulted over a mossy boulder and scaled a diagonally-fallen tree, claws flared out for balance. I pounced across a flowing river, into the trees on the other side.

  The smell of the burning chemicals guided me. The vision mode shimmered in a transitional shock of colors, coated the sprawling forest in shades between blue and black. In the distance the heat signatures bloomed, the orange-yellow blurs of Human life and Human blood guided me through the forest, alive and hot despite the chilling season.

  They were amassing. For what, I could only guess. An engagement would take place soon. Would this be to my advantage? Yes. But only if I made it so.

  Grunts were minor game but good game. I must test their capabilities. They fought as smart packs. To get to the Leader, I needed to cut through his Retinue. I must whittle down the subordinates, and then I will claim the skull of the Leader.

  The Earthen day moved quickly. The dawn had become dusk and I followed the tracks left behind by rudimentary wheels used by my target’s pack. Under the lens of thermal vision, two dozen warm bodies labored on a half-built stone fort buried into the mud. The shape of it left much to be desired, crude and blocky, with minimal aesthetic or decor. Thick bars of iron underneath seemed to form a shape that the stone would pour over, and I was reminded of how sculptors on the Homeworld might craft statues over wirework. Instead of anything marvelous, these Humans were building stone block houses with rectangular viewports.

  As the sun dipped below the trees, the Humans began to slow down their efforts. Throughout the night, I watched and listened. I observed how they safeguarded themselves while others slept, swapping shifts and working in tandem so that some remained awake and operational at all hours. Throughout the entirety of the night, I measured that the Leader slept only three hours.

  The next day, I observed multiple hours of hard labor and a concerted effort to complete their fortifications that bordered on obsessiveness. Even the Leader participated alongside the laborers, of which I found curious. Whatever kind of hierarchy existed amongst this detachment of fighters, it appeared even the local authority was not above gruntwork and labor. Their dignity did not appear tied to social status. Or perhaps this was a standard set only by this Leader?

  I watched as they dragged bags into position and shaped them into walls, placed these bag-walls in sectionals around their camp grounds, while a specialized labor team of grunts built the stone house. By evening, their hot bodies sat around a roaring fire that burned entire chunks of tree trunk at the center, and I listened to their distant, vague chirping.

  A group of the fighters began to pass around a glass bottle, seemingly nourishing themselves one by one. Laughing, their faces contorted with lips pulled back, faces red with deep, chest-shaking expressions of joy. One of them stood up and began to do what appeared to me as a dance; legs kicking, arms flared out, a rhythmic chirping to his motions. The other warriors laughed until it echoed in the forests, and never had I felt so amused by a display of primal expression.

  I drew my combistick. The handle unlatched and opened up. I grasped the metallic string and notched an arrow, carved and shaped from Earthen wood. I aimed down the center of my bonemolded sight. Magnified through the sight’s lens, the dancing Human now broke into a more foolish, extravagant display, singing some deep-chested belting with the peak of its vocal chords. The veins in its neck bulged slightly. Just slightly. I aimed for that location.

  I released. The arrow flew. Quiet, the arrow became a whisper of wind that swished down through the trees. Far away, the dancer’s face ripped sideways. Collapsed, pulling at the jutting shaft of sharpened wood impaled through the jaw, I watched as my target writhed on the ground. The confusion settled among the gathering of fighters. None of them moved at first. Was this part of the game? Did they think the dancer was still dancing? After several long seconds, three comrades rushed forward to the writhing dancer, and all at once I saw as the other two dozen fighters formed up together in a circle, weapons raised.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Bravery! An eager trill escaped me. The Leader heeded the gathering, barking in different directions at different troops. I could see how the rest of the specimens deferred to this single warrior, obeying without question. This was not a random rally of weapons, I realized, but a fighting force with defined roles. A pack that was trained to organize as one. Human combat tactics. We shall see if it bears any merit.

  With a great breath of hot fury, I screeched the screech of an elderly human female, amplified through my biomask to curdle the blood and stab deep into the inner ear. The soldiers scrounged back, their vocalizations louder, panicked. All at once, a volley of ballistics tore into the trees in my direction. I leapt from the branches, down to the ground and stalked between trunks and the weave of shrubs. The volley continued for several seconds longer. Among their array of weapons, some shot once at a time, while other arms fired a line of ballistics before being rearmed.

  In a barreling sprint between the dark trees, I circled the perimeter. On the opposite axis of where I prowled, the terrain rose and became a gradual climb back to my preys’ campsite. Claws braced, I climbed up a tall tree, wove between the branches and crested the precipice. Elevated, I used my vantage to look down upon them.

  The dancing-human laid in the arms of another, the hands pinned down by two more, while a healer-fighter worked frantically to remove the arrow from the specimen’s jaw. Blood soaked all of them as they huddled close to the fire. The unit of fighters formed a circle, backs facing each other as they remained with their weapons pointed in all directions. From here I could not hear their chirps, even with my auditory sensors amplified, but I judged from the turn of head that they conspired amongst themselves for the next course of action.

  The pack Leader remained outside of my reach, far on the edge of the camp closer to my previous position. This did not trouble me. I could cut my way to the Leader, if need be, but I could not strike deeper until there were less firearms standing. It was not likely that primitive firearms would disable me unbearably, but I did not want to make a habit out of receiving their ballistics, either.

  I waited.

  Ahead, they scrambled together, huddled close. The chirps from the team of healers became louder, desperate. I debated on shooting my next arrow while I had the high ground. One healer barked a string of crude, crackling intonations and I saw as the dancing soldier began to lull into lifelessness. His heat remained, ebbing away quickly, the orange and yellows receding around his vessel into the encroaching dark blues and empty black of lifeless coldness. I drew another arrow.

  Nocked, I aimed through the reflective lens of the bonesight. The edge of my claws cradled the metallic wire, drawing it taught in the bow’s compound frame. Across the distance, my target’s magnified visage lay before me. I released the arrow.

  The healer that pronounced the dancer as dead suddenly fell over as well. I had aimed for the head to kill but the arrow skewed into the hip. Sprawled into the mud, he cranked at the arrow shaft lodged into his lower torso, a crackled howl tearing from his yet-unopened throat. Annoyed, I drew the next arrow and yanked the nock against the alloyed bowstring. In one motion, I primed the arrow as I looked down the sights.

  Magnified from a great distance away, a fighter aimed at me.

  Beside my shoulder, the tree trunk exploded. The angry buzzing of primitive ballistics tore into the branches and trees around me, the first shot having been the closest. I simply fell backwards, slid down in a quick descent. On the ground, the buzzing projectiles continued, misting the air with scattered soil. My position was compromised.

  All muscles in my legs clenched, I vaulted. I needed to be anywhere but here. The wind whipped about my body and I soared between a weave of trees, crashed through a stray branch and fumbled into a trunk, claws scrambling for purchase. Clambered there, I crawled to the opposite side of the trunk, away from the Human line of sight. I waited.

  Their volley continued for several seconds longer until their primitive weapons dispensed all of their usings, and in the time that came between their rearming, I slid down from the trunk and landed hard upon the forest floor, prowling quickly to a new section of ground. How was I compromised so soon? Was I spotted? My rage burned hot in my chest and I looked upon my own claws and chest to make certain that I was cloaked. I saw only the blur of my form, camouflaged to the environment. I was cloaked, and I was spotted. The fault was mine.

  One of them saw the direction the arrow arrived from. That had to be why. I made a mistake. I could not keep track of two dozen pairs of eyes. A foolish expectation. I lingered for too long after my arrow. Another mistake. Shoot once and reposition. Do not chase blood heedlessly.

  My claws ripped down the bark of the tree I hid behind. I stilled my rage into a steady, rhythmic breathing. Another volley of ballistics tore into my prior position and I stole those precious seconds for a swift reorientation. They were looking ahead, now, to the treelines. They expected a ranged approach from their enemy. What would they not expect?

  I circled again. Using the black smoke of their camp ground as my orientation, I stalked the sloped forest grounds to the reaches of the roaring fire. This is all the light they would have under this twilight sky. I folded the compound wheels inward and readjusted the frame of the combistick. The volley-fire had ceased. I had to remember that reaction for the future. If my position were compromised again, I had but seconds to reposition.

  No. I had less than seconds.

  A strange pumping noise emitted into the air. After a moment an eruption set off in the trees, as if to punctuate their volley with explosive ordinance. This engagement had spurred out of my control. My mind was cluttered with distractions. These warriors were precise, focused. Defensive. What can I do? Was this hunt a mistake? Was my clan right about me? Am I weak?

  I cannot fail. The spears ejected on both sides of my combistick. Cloaked under the terrain’s guise, I stepped from the sloped terrain. Ahead, two dozen hot-blooded Humans assembled in a firing line facing away from me. They did not believe I would succeed. We will prove them wrong.

  I charged.

  The mud splashed under my footfalls.The closest Human learned of my presence and learned too late. The spear skewered into the chest, between the ribs. I flopped the body onto my shoulder, still impaled on my spear. It screamed. Many heads turned in my direction but I had already leapt far away, the wind pulling at my earthen furs and my Yautjan locks. The light of their burning fire left me and I embraced the shadows of the forest.

  The screaming soldier choked and garbled. I had to do something about that now, elsewise it would betray my position and ruin my escape. I tossed the body over my shoulder into the mud. I silenced the screaming with a stomp to the back of the neck, careful not to damage the precious skull, and wrenched off the metallic helmet the specimen wore.

  Far away, I heard a Human’s bark. I could not bother with it now. Focused, I ejected my wrist blades quickly and sliced the edges into the fleshy neck. The bone became caught on my blade and I had to crank the edges into the stubborn vertebrae. In my silencing of the specimen’s screams, I had snapped some lines in the spinal column. My shame bloomed at the poor display, crooked and bent.

  Another bark. I dragged my appraising gaze away from the decapitated trophy to the path between the trees up ahead. Down a long stretch of forest corridor, the Leader faced me, framed around a row of fallen trees. I had not noticed his posture, his aiming. His weapon fired.

  My shoulder yanked back. Pain bloomed in my arm. I hissed, grasped the corpse of the dead soldier and hauled it away into the dark. More ballistics fired in my direction as the Leader’s pack joined him. I ducked down into the forest and tread back a great distance away. Despite the distance I placed between myself and the pack of soldiers, their volleys did not cease. After several moments, a few explosive bombardments echoed in that direction and I was left with the impression that they would spend the rest of the night defending that position from any perceived threat.

  I removed myself from that corner of the forest, my cooling trophy slung over my shoulder. In the shade of night, I transitioned my vision mode to a spectrum that unveiled the planet’s darkness to me, and I returned back to my nest in a swift flight. This had not been my finest showing. These Humans were sharper than I had ever considered, precise and determined. In an hiss of electrical static, I uncloaked and inspected my glowing wound. The small-arms fire had bit into the flesh on my shoulder, where armor would have been, if I had been permitted to wear armor. That was not within this hunt’s parameters.

  But I did not need it, either. The wound was small, and bleeding a modest trail of blood down my bicep that enraged me more than anything. A keen Leader, that creature. It had tracked me even in my escape. Perhaps followed the sounds of its comrade? Chased down the direction of the screaming, even before I silenced it? Determined to rescue them? However I had been tracked, the Leader had shown such mettle. I was unprepared. With the tips of my claws, I dug into the bleeding wound and fished out the miniscule crumple of petty alloy that lay in the shallow hole in my flesh.

  I will claim that fierce creature. First, I must dismantle its pack.