Dominant Species Omnibus Edition

by David Coy

  “Jacob wants the road built as very soon as possible,” Patel smiled. “Need I say more than that then?”

  Habershaw and Lavachek shook their heads wide and slow and chuckled. “No, sir. No sir,” Habershaw said. “We can start as soon as you send me the file, Mr. Patel. We’ll get right on it. You’ll have your road in a month, maybe just a little more. Easy.”

  Patel’s face dropped. “I’m afraid that’s far too long,” he said. “Jacob, you see, wants that road in place in dooo weeks.”

  Habershaw scratched the side of his nose and looked at Lavachek. A troubled, panicky look, unseen by Patel, passed between them. If they followed the route Patel had outlined, they’d never get it done in two weeks. The rig just couldn’t move that fast. This situation could get dicey real fast.

  Habershaw knitted his brow and nodded his head as if

  thinking. What he was really doing was nodding and sweating, buying time.

  “Uh," he said.

  “Hmm," Lavachek joined in the thinking session.

  “Well."

  “Yeah."

  “Look,” Habershaw asserted himself with intense professionalism and confidence. “Maybe we could take a few liberties here and there with your route—if it’s okay, that is—not too many, you understand, but I think that might help some, don’t you Greg?”

  “Yep,” Lavachek chimed in.

  “As long as the road gets done in doo weeks, I think we can all relax,” Patel smiled.

  “Great. Not a problem, then,” Habershaw said, also smiling.

  “Yep,” Lavachek said.

  They shook his small hand again with a promise to begin preparations that morning. With an innocent and white smile, Patel sent them on their way.

  * * *

  “What a asshole,” Lavachek said once they got outside. “Let’s just cut the road straight in, he’ll never know the difference. We’ll put some curves in it here and there. He won’t even give a shit.”

  “Goddamn . . . ” Habershaw laughed. “Chief engineer . . . they sure scraped the bottom of the barrel for that little bastard.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Had hands like a little bitch.”

  “Yep.”

  “Look, if we wind up on the man’s bad side, and he’s so ignorant that would be too damned easy, we could wind up in a real mess with the council. You get that, right?” Habershaw said, his eyes locked on Lavachek’s.

  “I’m right there with you, boss,” Lavachek nodded. “I’ve seen it happen. Some guy with connections starts out okay. But they’re only okay until they’re not. And you never fuckin’ know.”

  “That’s right,” Habershaw frowned. “You never know. Especially with connected guys that don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.”

  “Yep,” Lavachek nodded.

  * * *

  They went right to the rig and Lavachek downloaded the file with Patel’s snaky, bullshit road. They wouldn’t use it much, but they needed to make sure Patel knew they had it anyway. They spent the rest of the morning moving the machine to Patel’s starting point and doing some routine maintenance on the rig that was long overdue.

  They were just starting lunch, sitting in their favorite spot on a high catwalk when a shiny new shuttle purred in and landed next to the rig. Pen Patel popped out of the shuttle’s side door dressed for a safari, complete with a little sun hat.

  “Hello up there!” he said.

  “How are we doing today?”

  “You just saw us, you asshole,” Lavachek whispered.

  “Fine, Mr. Patel!” Habershaw yelled down.

  “Just having some lunch. Everything’s under control!”

  “May I come up and join you then! I too have a lunch!”

  “Be glad to have you!” Habershaw hollered.

  “Can you find your way up?”

  Patel looked the rig over, back and forth, and then took a step this way and that, trying to find the way up.

  “Take the lift to the rear, sir!” Habershaw yelled and pointed. “It’s very easy to operate!”

  “Oh, yes! I see it now. Up I come!”

  Lavachek groaned. “We’re his pet project aren’t we? That’s it, right?”

  “Probably his only project,” Habershaw said. “Look, take it easy and be nice. Don’t fuck around. Just relax.”

  “He’s gonna wanna ride the rig all the way to the ocean,” Lavachek moaned. “Just wait and see. Every day he’s gonna be asking us shit and telling us shit. He could have us killed and we wouldn’t even know what we did wrong.”

  “I know, Greg. Goddamn it, just relax. I’ll get rid of him.”

  It was taking Patel far too long to make it up. After a while, Habershaw and Lavachek looked at each other with grins and chewed and nodded, knowing full well the little bastard was lost in the rig somewhere.

  “He’s lost,” Habershaw said.

  Lavachek sighed, groaned to his feet and went to look for him. He’d moved just a few steps when they heard Patel’s distant little voice.

  “Hello!” it said. “I’m having some trouble finding you then!”

  “Stay where you are, Mr. Patel!” Lavachek bellowed back. “I’ll be right there!”

  “I won’t move until I see the whites of your eyes!” the little voice came back cheerfully.

  Habershaw could see the disgust on Lavachek’s face through

  the back of his head.

  A few minutes later, Lavachek strode slowly back along the catwalk with Patel in tow. Patel was fanning his face with his hat.

  “Well, I made it after all then,” he said with his round smile. “This machine is much larger than I had imagined. It is quite remarkable.”

  “Well,” Habershaw said to him, “have a seat. Uh, we don’t have chairs here, but the view’s pretty good. I’ve got a cushion here if you want . . . ”

  “Oh, but no. Thank you so much. I’m content to sit just as you do. My bottom is just as tough as yours, I assure you,” he added happily and sat down on the catwalk. “There. All safe and sound from the jungle’s ugly bugs. I must say I don’t like the bugs here at all. Is this why you sit up here, away from the bugs? If so, it would seem a good idea.”

  Lavachek nodded, then sneaked a look at Habershaw.

  “My word, the view is spectacular, isn’t it?” Patel observed, opening his neat little lunch box.

  “Yep,” Lavachek said, almost politely. “Quite a view.”

  Habershaw just nodded in agreement. He was thinking furiously. His food suddenly tasted flat, and he was chewing and chewing, but not swallowing. He had to think of some way to get him off the rig—permanently. Lavachek was right. The little guy had found a home. Before they knew it, he’d have his little girl’s hands into everything.

  He’d seen it before, friends or partners punished, penalized for not understanding or following an absurd direction or instruction, like a dog kicked for not understanding a string of English commands. The stupider the command, the greater the confusion would be. There would be a misunderstanding, an error would be made, or someone would do something wrong, or someone would get hurt and a report made. Someone would have to be blamed, and it was never the one in power. Something, something would happen. Mistakes and errors could be dodged under the right circumstances, but not if the powerful were right there, and a witness to it. There would be no reprieve, no excuses, no forgiveness, and the ones in power would chop off your head to save themselves. Being in close proximity to Patel for doo weeks was a big, big mistake, especially now when the rule of law rested with only a few very powerful people.

  To Habershaw’s experienced eye, this connected, powerful man’s gentle demeanor and delicate stature belied the ruthlessness under the clean cotton. Put in place by some likely nepotistic action, he was as dangerous as a lunatic to Habershaw—and as unpredictable. He just hadn’t shown that side yet.

  They watched him lay his lunch out neatly, lining everything up. Lavachek couldn’t believe his eyes.<
br />
  “We will pray now,” Patel said solemnly, lowering his head and closing his eyes. “Mister Lavachek will say the prayer for us, please.”

  His eyes as big as saucers, Lavachek, in mid-chew, looked at Habershaw. To Habershaw’s knowledge, Greg Lavachek had never said a prayer of any kind one could repeat in mixed company in his entire life.

  “Uh . . . ” Lavachek began.

  Habershaw nodded furiously for him to say something, then silently mouthed the word, “Any . . . thing . . . ”

  “Uh . . . "

  Habershaw clenched his teeth at him.

  “Uh . . . thank you, God, for the food that Mr. Patel is going to eat. Thank you for the food that me and Bill are already eating, and thanks for the spectacular view, too. Thanks.”

  When Patel’s head came up, he gave no hint of what he thought of the prayer, if anything.

  “And thank you,” Lavachek continued, as Patel’s head went back down, "for this beautiful planet and for the opportunity to live on it. Thank you for the sun that warms us in the morning and for all the bugs at night, even though some of us don’t think much of them, they are a part of nature. Thanks for this rig here which will let us make Mr. Patel’s road so we can all live by the ocean where it’s probably cooler and not as buggy. Thank you for The Council and The Sacred Bond of the Fervent Alliance to tell us what to do.”

  Patel’s head came up.

  “And thank you"—Patel’s head went back down—"for the medical team that treats Bill and me each week for the infections we get from the things that live on the rig. We’d be dead now if not for them. Thank you, and so long.”

  Patel waited a while before coming up this time to make sure Lavachek was finished.

  “What infections are these then?” he asked.

  “Oh,” Habershaw said. “There’s . . . uh . . . a kind of bug that’s attracted to the rig somehow. They live under things—underneath things in the shade, like under this handrail. They like the cool metal; that's what I think. Lavachek thinks it’s the paint or the plastic. We run into them all the time. Here look at this . . . ”

  Habershaw stood up and dropped his pants. Patel was taken aback until Lavachek pointed to the scar from the parasite on the back of Habershaw’s upper thigh.

  “See that. That’s where one was,” Lavachek said. “He got that one sitting on the toilet in broad daylight. That’s the one that squirted that yellow juice into you, ain’t it?”

  “It was either that one or this one here,” Habershaw said, feeling at a spot under his underwear near his groin. “It hurt like hell, too. It took ‘em three hours to get it off.”

  “Yes, it looks like it would have been very painful,” Patel said, looking around rather nervously.

  “They’re all over the place,” Lavachek said. “You can’t hardly see ‘em until they jump on your ass. Excuse my language, sir.”

  “I see. Well, then,” Patel said. “Mister Lavachek has thanked God for this food, so we should eat it.”

  While they ate, Habershaw and Lavachek went on and on with bullshit about the bugs on the rig and how nasty they were. Patel ate without saying a word.

  When he was finished, Patel gathered up his things, stood up and started down, trying not to move too fast. “I wish to thank you for breaking bread with me,” he said. “I’m sure the machine and yourselves are up to the job. My pilot is waiting below, and I should be off. I’ll check in with you from time to time. Don’t hesitate to let me know if I can help you.”

  His last words were spoken over his shoulder as he went down the first flight of stairs. Then he stopped and turned around.

  “And oh, I should tell you that if the road is not completed within my timing frame, it is in my power to have you arrested and detained, and doo have your paydowns stopped as well,” he said through his white grin. “And you should be believing me when I dell you that I will doo it.”

  Habershaw just stared blank faced for couple of seconds then said stiffly, “We’ll do our very best!”

  Still grinning, Patel turned and continued down. Habershaw noticed that he kept his hands off the handrails.

  When he was out of earshot, Habershaw and Lavachek looked at each other. Lavachek frowned.

  “Well, we had that sonofabitch figured out,” he said, pursing his lips.

  “Yep,” Habershaw said soberly. “We had that sonofabitch figured out.”

  “He’s not the first one, is he Bill?”

  “Nope. Won’t be the last either.”

  Later that afternoon while they were prepping the rig, Lavachek turned to Habershaw and said in Patel’s voice, “My bottom is as tough as yours, I assure you.”

  They chuckled.

  6

  His prayers were answered at the end of ages, and when the pain vanished and the truth of his blessedness was finally confirmed, God’s purpose remained. It shone bright and pure like the light of a single, splendid star in the vast darkness. It shone perfectly for him and only him. It was there as it had always been.

  As the jungle’s beautiful green hills rolled past, the sweet thoughts of God’s plan unfolded, detail upon detail like the bloom of one of the jungle’s glorious flowers. Within those folds were pleasures beyond pleasure, promised to him by the Lord God one thousand years ago. For each moment of pain he had endured, God had promised him ten of pleasure. God had shown him Hell. Heaven would soon be his. Why else were the tools of creation left there for him but to create heavenly pleasure?

  But there would be time enough for that. God’s plan, like the flower, had many petals.

  This was the new home of God’s chosen few. Better than Earth, this place was a sweet ripe fruit, and its sweetness would feed the chosen, and they would grow and grow. God had given him this place, all of it. He could use it as he saw fit; he could change it to his purpose. God’s plan would be fulfilled through him. He was God’s Agent, God’s Messenger and The Favored One. It could only be so. Why else would God keep him alive for so long? Why else would God bring him to this place if not to rule it as He had promised?

  He looked out the shuttle’s window at the distant clouds and saw flashes of bright light within them. They looked as they had on Earth; dark and powerful. They were the bearers of life—and often destruction. The shapes fascinated him. He wanted to reach out and run his hands gently over them.

  Fond and distant memories of the shapes of clouds and of coming storms filled him.

  “We’re approaching the structure, Jacob,” one of the guards said. “Will you be entering to witness the capture?”

  “I’ll follow behind you,” he said gently. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

  They put the shuttle down some distance from the structure in a patch of less-dense bush, barely big enough to hold it. Jacob remained safely in the back where he watched the half-dozen armed guards flow out close together, their mottled uniforms making them look to him like one long organism.

  “Don’t hurt them,” he said gently to the leader. “I want them very much alive and twitching.”

  The door closed with a hiss and a click. Jacob watched a small insect crawl up the thick glass of the window. He tapped at it idly with a long and twisted finger.

  * * *

  Rachel was thinking about bathing in the pool. Bathing in the pool was something she really had to want to do before she would actually do it. She’d submerged herself in the crystalline water many times without incident when they first arrived. But once not long ago, she’d come out with a fat leech attached to her butt. Since then, the idea had to work up to a real hedonistic craving before she’d risk it. The leech was a relatively minor annoyance, but the ambiance of the cool, clear pool had been largely ruined for her.

  John had thought it was funny.

  Today, the urge to strip and stand naked on this polished rock grew in her loins like a sexual desire. She looked down into the calm water and could already feel its wetness around her legs and breasts. She wanted to feel that coolness on her
skin when she plunged into it and to let it caress her entirely. Then she’d climb out of the cool water like some slick and serpentine thing and warm herself in the morning sun, leeches and all.

  I must be ovulating, she thought.

  She untied her boots, pulled them off and put them aside. Then she unzipped her cottons, stepped out of them and kicked them onto a nearby limb. She undid her bra, then started to strip out of her panties. She hesitated and thought about leaving them on.

  “Screw it,” she said, then slid them down and stepped out of them.

  The warm sun kissed her smooth back and legs and made her take a long, deep breath. The sweet scent of the jungle came to her as if for the first time.

  She stretched up in the warm sun with her arms up high, then higher still. She raised up on her naked toes to stretch her strong calves. It felt so good. She slowly moved her head from side to side, and basked in the sun.

  John watched her from the entrance to the structure and believed in his heart that he’d never seen such beauty. He wanted to smile a big, wide smile because of it. To his eyes, she was physical perfection. He felt that if he sniffed the air just right, he and he alone could pick up her scent, even from this distance. He lifted his head and sniffed a few times in his lover’s direction, then smiled to himself. All he smelled was jungle.

  He watched her dive perfectly from the stone and disappear with a quiet splash. He always worried about her swimming alone, but he could tell by her spirits this morning that no seizures were likely, and he dismissed the fear.

  Having indulged his voyeurism, he turned and left her to her privacy.

  As he was turning, he heard the sound; a rustle of leaves and brush that didn’t fit in. To ears that had listened to the jungle’s noises for months on end, this sound was like breaking glass. His hand felt for his weapon. It wasn’t there—he’d left it in the shuttle.

  “Don’t move!” came the order and a second later, the first guard, crouching, came at him from the brush, a rifle aimed squarely at him. A second appeared, then a third. Not stupid, John put his arms in the air. He’d been dreading this day for months. They’d finally caught them, and he cursed under his breath. He wanted to warn Rachel somehow so she might escape; but when he looked in her direction another guard was standing on the polished stone, his rifle aimed down at the water.