The scene in the field had haunted him all that day. It’d been a primal explosion of torment and ferocity, wiped clean before the dawn rose.
There’d be little evidence outside of the bellies of the victors and survivors. Champions of time. Or just lucky. But the succession of generations weeded out the lucky. Many of those who’d survived the day had some marginal advantage over the others. He thought of the Caver who’d labored it’s giant hand into the side of a beast as it was torn from the ground, the weight of both too much for the raptor to carry off. It’d likely survived.
But the bellies weren’t the only place where shards of the war lingered.
The cave art.
He’d thought a lot about the cave art. It stood virtually immortal. The deep interpretation of intelligent, artistic beings fitting a complex cyclone of variables into a cultural structure that made sense of their world.
Instinctually, they terrified him. His body stiffened at their memory and his brain rushed with a clinging, viscous panic.
But he couldn’t accept that. Fear alone was enough to raise him to his feet and into the heart of their den. The combination of fear, riotous feelings of wanting to understand, and budding empathy was lifting him to a flight he knew might kill him.
It’d mean leaving this.
But not understanding them could mean death for them all at the slightest miscue in diplomacy. Or it could mean death for the colonists, which included Kit. And Scott, Tarma, Cooper.
In the same mental breath, he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t do it to her and he couldn’t do it to himself. There were a lot of things that could happen short of death for all, particularly given their firepower.
“I’m going with you.” Her soft voice muffled from his chest.
“To the Keys?” Huston joked, confused and wondering whether he’d been talking in his sleep. Or just then.
“I know you, Huston.”
“Kit, you’re really not invited.”
She slapped his chest lightly.
He didn’t know what to say for several long seconds.
“Your quests don’t have to be alone. You’re wrong to think you can’t do both.”
“Maybe.” Huston said warmly, but only because he didn’t know what else to say.
He certainly didn’t need to make the decision now. Scott was the most intelligent man he knew, and exceptionally reasonable. It wouldn’t be Scott who made a major mistake. And the colonists here weren’t the same as those who’d sat on ships to the New World. They weren’t here for profit and opportunity as the New World’s explorers had been. Port Wallace housed the educated and the idea-driven.
But could anybody trust that?
And what might drive future aggression from the Cavers? Or Clouds?
In nature, animals faced newcomers to their territory and it didn’t always mean conflict, except when there was competition for mates or shared food sources. Otherwise it could be a neutral relationship. But what of the smarter animals who fought over perceived loss of access? Perceived loss of resources and an instinctual need to control reserves?
Were highly intelligent species different? They were in that intelligence brought with it an imagination and ability to extend senses of danger beyond the immediate and the obvious or rational. Though, even more instinctive creatures were capable of that.
The Cavers had indicated with their map projection that they prized territorial claims, and that they were expanding. If they’d been the ones who attacked the Fisherman Village, what purpose would it have served? The Fisherman seemed to be able to operate in the open within their valley forest, so the Cavers may have attacked to gain access to the fish. That would eliminate some of their need to face the raptors in open fields.
Yet they weren’t there. Either something happened to distract them from colonizing the river or cultural shifts were as slow to root for Cavers as they’d been in human history.
He thought of the Clouds and the meeting he thought they might be having with the Cavers when he’d first met them. Could the Clouds have stopped their expansion efforts with just the threat of war? If the Clouds were gone, as they seemed to be, would the Cavers move now?
Geography was a sneakily powerful force in the behavior of groups. If Scott offered the Cavers free movement through the forests around Port Wallace, would it be enough to alleviate any perceived fears?
He didn’t know. And he didn’t know whether Scott would go for it. He could try it though. He hugged Kit tighter. He’d try it and if it didn’t work, he’d go there and he’d find a way to understand.
It occurred to him that the splinter in the Cloud camp may have been over relations with the Cavers. It’d explain why some were helping them. But if the Clouds didn’t require the same food, why wouldn’t all of them be willing to help the Cavers be safer in the forests?
Chapter Eighteen
Huston bent down to kiss her forehead. He wouldn’t wake her. They’d moved to the small couch in his office during the night. Locking the door behind him, he propped the church doors open and strode across the quad into the cafeteria. Barely anyone was up and about. Only robotic laborers moving material into place for the day’s preventative upgrades. Or it might’ve been general construction. The colony wasn’t close to fully built.
The colonists he did see had eyes only for waking up. The less relaxed ones were already consumed with whatever work activities they’d queued up the day before.
He spotted Leif, an Icelandic doctor who ran fitness classes early in the morning. He was walking into the gym and didn’t see Huston. The minister knew how badly Leif wanted to get out and lead climbing expeditions. Sometime soon, he’d have to bring him to the rock face at the Fisherman Village.
Haunting images of Cavers being cracked open by talons and beaks hovered at the edge of his thoughts. There was a larger truth to know there, before they were just an article of history or transformed by whatever happened between them and the humans of Port Wallace.
They might still be the villains, but villainy was often subjective. What Huston couldn't accept, and what drove his footsteps now, was his dark fear. Every moment experiencing them had been stained by it. But a primal twitch couldn’t be allowed to harden into bias, not without more perspective.
He stopped moving, hands on hips. Staring straight down. The idea of entering their caves again, of the cold and the black and the wet and the everywhere...of exposing himself to that.
The thought of leaving Kit.
He felt ensnared. Unable to move. Gripped by blindness in both directions. What was right? What was a compulsive thought process and what was valuable instinct?
The Cavers were puzzling. Why had they evolved to have bulbs? Was it for seeing in the caves? Was it that those without bulbs ultimately failed from the mental complications of sensory deprivation in the deep? Was it merely an advantage in communication? Homosapiens had endured beyond the Neanderthals partly because of such a small yet decisive advantage in their capacity to cooperate and coordinate. Maybe the same was true here. The Neanderthals had also been bred with until their percentage of genetic codes was too small to be definitive. Maybe Cavers with bulbs were simply considered superior and therefore were more likely to mate.
He didn’t know whether they’d traded with the Fisherman and Clouds, or why the two groups had been unwilling to facilitate the Cavers’ not having to subsist that way. But he was applying sensibilities toward collective well-being that were unnatural even to his own kind.
No. He wouldn’t go. He could serve his friends best here. He could still serve the Cavers here.
Every avenue he thought down ended the same.
Feeling the warmth of being at peace with the choice and himself, he walked to Scott’s office. They needed to talk. But then he’d bring Kit breakfast.
Scott had granted him security access, so he pressed his thumb to the pad and stepped to the left. A wave of noise rushed out as the sound-proof
impact doors slid open.
“Huston.” Ling placed a palm on his shoulder as he hurried from the room.
Behind him, Huston saw Scott standing with arms crossed, his eyes darting between the many screens in front of him. Gangotra was by his side, coordinating with techs and drone pilots over a secure channel next to him. Much of the sound was coming from the screens themselves. Huston hadn’t known they were fixed with audio sensors.
He rushed to Scott’s side and turned to the wall of monitors. He tried to make quick sense of what he was seeing. Each of the 16 screens was displaying real-time feeds from cameras positioned throughout the region, with an in-set map identifying its location. Every few seconds, one of the screens would cycle out. Each was assigned a number out of 52. He hadn’t known they had so many installed already.
Most jarring, Cavers were everywhere.
“Is there anywhere they aren’t?” He asked Scott without introduction.
“Within the walls.” Was the curt response. Scott looked to him. “They’re avoiding our immediate sphere. Several hundred yards is the closest they’ve come.”
“What was our message to them yesterday?”
“We didn’t send one. You were the ideal delivery man. We also needed to consider the impact of the arrival of these raptors.”
“Morning, Huston.” Gangotra began. “What are your thoughts?”
“We don’t know their normal patterns. This could be an effort to hunt in as many places as possible to be sure they get enough food while also spreading the birds’ attention.” Huston replied.
“Yeah. I reasoned the same. I want you and your team to bring them a message. We’re going to allow them access to movement through our woods.” Scott met Huston’s eyes with a trace of uncertainty. “It is a meaningful gesture, and one our defensive capabilities can manage.”
Huston smiled and shook his head.
“I’d just decided to not go embed myself with them.”
He told Scott and Gangotra of his thought process that morning.
“I don’t want you embedded.” Scott said flatly, his voice heavy with the timbre of a command. “But we need the stability of some sort of relations. I trust you. You’re the guy.”
“Ok. Whatever you need.” Huston clasped the shoulders of his two friends, and in this context, his superiors.
“I’ll roll some high altitude heavies above you. Have ‘em do some bird watching.”
Huston nodded grimly and left the room.
He needed to rally the others. He knew where he wanted to go first.
“Thanks!” Kit smiled through tired eyes, pulling a tray of fruits, eggs, and coffee toward her.
Huston chuckled as food and liquid spilled onto the sheets. She’d never shown much restraint around food.
“I’m down.” She said between sips. He’d already told her about their assignment.
“Figured. You were already trying to go with me when it was just a personal quest.”
“You don’t want to go?”
“Umm…” he thought about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. “It’s dangerous.”
“You walked out into the woods for days by yourself here. That was probably just as dangerous.”
“That’s true.” He didn’t want to admit to her that he hadn’t been that concerned about safety then. Now that she was involved, it was different. “It’s too important to say no to. Scott needs me, needs us, to do it.”
“You think the others are interested?”
“I’ll check the brothels.”
“We’ll bring something with more of a punch this time.” Cooper walked into the armory as the others stood outside.
“What’s our message?” Huston asked Scott.
“We’re sending you with this hologram projector. We’ve done our best to present an offer of access and reciprocity.” He handed Huston a small adapter for his mobile unit. “Plug and play. Gangotra sent you the file already.”
“We think it’s safe to assume the Queen is where you met her before. The Cavers that are moving appear to be almost entirely of the Swarmer variety.” Gangotra added.
“You’re all going to be fully armed this time.” Scott gestured to Cooper as he carried a bag of arms to the group that he was to distribute the hefty. “Fire only on Huston’s command. That excludes the microwave dispersal gun.”
They all nodded.
Huston activated his earpiece and mounted it's camera over his ear. He imagined this was an assignment Scott would be doing if Wallace were awake.
Scott smiled and waved for the gates to open. They walked out.
They all felt more comfortable taking a boat than anything airborne. It was still a fairly quick trip.
“Huston, have you seen anything like deer?” Kit asked as they hiked the stretch to the cave entrance.
“No.” He replied immediately, realizing it himself. “I haven’t. Besides fish, some small mammals, and the beings, I haven’t seen much of anything besides birds.”
It wasn’t surprising that the larger herbivores of the forest here would’ve migrated or been overhunted, not with at least two carnivorous, sizable populations occupying the region. But what ate the grass and plants?
He and Kit discussed it. The beings themselves might’ve been responsible for controlling vegetation, that would’ve followed precedent, but they might’ve found patches of unrestrained growth if that were all that was at play.
They concluded it must’ve been birds. They saw flocks of colorful and diverse birds big and small eating at plants and grasses here and there. Some ecosystems on Earth hosted species of herbivorous birds, so it made sense. One particularly grotesque bird-creature sported clawed front legs which it used to fling itself into the canopy. In such a forest, why wouldn’t it be fast moving birds that occupied the niche? They would’ve expected herbivorous mammals and predators that feed off them, but the food web would’ve adjusted to their loss.
He wondered what it was like in other parts of the planet.
Suddenly, three conventional sized hawks zipped from the forest to their left, surging through the trees as if the tight channels were highways.
“So it’s birds. Birds are prey and predator here?” Kit asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
“I guess it makes sense.” Huston couldn’t argue with the conclusion. “Supported by bugs and smaller creatu—-“
A sickening, scrawling screech bellowed from ahead, interrupting Huston with the full weight of everything he didn’t like about how the Cavers made him feel.
Nobody spoke. Huston’s grip on his rifle was discomfiting. He sighed and fell on bent knee. The others looked terrified in a way that their faces hadn’t betrayed until that moment. Except for Cooper. He merely looked prepared to do everything necessary, which Huston imagined was a default posture.
Raindrops pattered on Huston’s brim, swiftly building as the clouds opened up. Wind gusts joined, blowing the downpour sideways. He looked to the others, all instinctively crouching, drenching wet.
He looked up. He hadn’t seen anything brewing. Mountain weather.
“When we were here last, nothing happened to us, obviously. The only violence was toward a Swarmer that had charged me. I think we can accept the same level of trustworthiness from their leadership.” Rain water spittled from his lips as he spoke.
Tarma looked stiff as he buttoned his jacket all the way up, presumably to better protect his neck.
Kit looked calmer from the reminder that he’d been there once before. Calmer than he was.
“I’ll make some noise. I’d rather they meet us at the entrance and be conveyed orders than just react to our presence in their home.” Huston looked around. “Though I suspect they’re watching us. When they come out, we’ll follow them through the main tunnel, past an open water delivery structure, and into the main reception area.”
They each acknowledged him with something non-verbal, and he stood to make noises.
His mobile unit ra
ng softly through his earpiece.
“Yep?”
“Huston, hold.”
Cooper lifted his rifle to the left, the others mimicked him.
A small group of Cavers, perhaps less than 10 but he didn’t know how many were behind the trees, were strafing left. Crawling on all fours eerily slowly, their bodies mostly shadowed by the trees. An audible gasp escaped Kit’s mouth.
Huston grimaced.
“Yes?”
“Hold...” Gangotra sounded distracted.
“Huston, a mass of them have lit the forest to the southeast. Do you see the smoke?” Scott said quickly.
He looked. Black was rising in the distance. He nudged Cooper and the others, casting a meaningful nod in it's direction.
More Cavers had oozed from the forest. Huston had forgotten how large they were in person. These clearly weren’t Swarmers, though, so they may have actually been larger. He couldn’t pull his eyes from their massive hands long enough to observe the growing group behind the front line. A staccato of bulb flashes spread from the right side of their formation. The one farthest to their right dug the fingers of one hand into the side of a tree and pulled himself to it's height before continuing with the other. A few others followed.
“What’s the fire? What are we doing?” He said to Scott through clenched teeth. The two times he’d seen them use their bulbs, it accompanied aggression.
“The Cavers have set the damn thing ablaze.” Scott barked. “Shit. Clouds.”
“Where? What?”
“I think the fire is trapped on the other side of a river. It’s pouring anyway.”
“The Clouds!?”
“That wasn’t to you. Yeah, they look a little different than we saw in the Caves. More corporeal.” He spoke to somebody else, but Huston couldn’t hear him clearly. “I’ll have the feed sent to you.”
Huston tossed his mobile unit to Tarma, who caught it and looked questioningly at him, as they all were.
Still Human- Planet G Page 16
