by Jim Rudnick
The Praix believed they had nothing to worry about. The inhabitants here—in fact all across this galaxy—were inferior when it came to technology and more. So downtime had been the caw that had gone out to the crew.
With less than a hundred souls in crew, the captain had just closed his eyes and thought the message to them all at once. A much larger ship, with hundreds of crew, might have needed a proxy re-send, where the captain spoke to some while his bridge crew spoke to others, and the message got to them all that way.
“But the Wisp is small,” the captain said to himself as he shuffled his feet on the captain’s perch on the bridge, shifting his weight at the same time. He flexed his wing tips, smoothing out the light feathers at the tip with his beak and his alula as his carpus fingers all stretched and flexed at the same time. Usually, a Praix would use his beak to choose a button to push or a door to open, but they all had the rudiments of a hand like the other lesser races did.
This waiting was getting on his nerves. He hopped over to look down at the console screen on his station and noted most of the crew was either in their quarters or in the central aviary, where a Praix could fly full tilt for over a thousand feet. Stretching the wings was good, he knew. Kept a Praix sane, he’d always thought.
The console showed that the ship’s cook and his cooking flock were in the kitchen. He wondered what might be rustled up for the evening meal, hoping that once again it might be something good. Frozen rations were fine, and yet the supplementing of real fresh live kill was so, so much better. He sighed—at least as much as any Praix could sigh—and said to himself, “No sense in getting your heart set on something that wasn’t possible.”
They were here, off Ghayth, waiting. They waited for the welcome that was obviously on its way.
The Praix captain knew a few ships lay around them as well as a small space station. The engineering flock leader, who admitted that she was just guessing, had identified the larger object as a space station.
Each time a ship had appeared, an ultra-bright teal ray had gone out to touch that ship for a second or two, registering that ship with the Praix engineering flock database. They did that for all the ships that were near them.
“Low-tech race, no real technology at all, rudimentary weapons and power sources, and ships without any real kind of shields either,” the engineering flock leader had pronounced. “Bi-peds, warm blooded, two sexes—much like the race of our slaves, the Issians, to a degree.
“Short lives with no real high-stress capabilities. Use language—both written and spoken. No real minds with any degree of strength either. We did find three Issians—but all are low-grade barely competent minds. That is the big disappointment, but we did note that word of our entry to their system has been made all across this tiny realm. So we wait, for their allegiance oath givers.”
She ruffled her feathers as she added, “We did, however, send out a galaxy-wide message to all Issians that we have arrived. We got no response as yet either, which is odd, but we will determine more at a later date,” she said.
The morale flock had prepared an evening’s entertainment for the ship’s crew. “We will be looking at streams from the Bootes Galaxy and what the recent flood of our ships encountered.”
Interesting content they’ve touted this as, the captain saw in his mind as the mind message came in. Might find the time to fly over to that, he thought as he stretched his wings out fully. Ten feet across, they were fully feathered, and the shine on the dorsal feathers was bright and sleek.
He clicked his beak, the click loud here on the bridge, but he was alone. No one heard his laughter.
This was about the easiest duty he’d ever had, yet he was still perturbed. The Wisp was a secondary Praix ship, and here he was in a galaxy the race had not even made into one of their own. He had friends who’d taken big cruisers and those huge consort ships to other destinations, but not him. He’d been relegated to this secondary ship to a third-world galaxy.
He snapped his beak, and the loud report echoed on the bridge. Food first, he thought. Then off to the aviary where I can softly fly and glide as the stream from Bootes is shown. Then maybe perch time.
He took one more look at the space around the Wisp, and there was nothing new there. Same ships and the same station, and while he didn’t bother, he knew he could have drilled down to look inside the ships, but that was being monitored by the Praix database AI. There was nothing to fear from these aliens. They just were not capable of being a threat and would, he knew, have made—might still make—a great new subservient race for the Praix as their first conquest of this galaxy.
#####
Anulet was a world like few others, Tanner knew. The Sword dropped back into real space from the Barony Drive, and the ship was in high orbit for a few minutes.
Anulet was a small planet of only about five thousand miles in diameter. All humans would be working against much less gravity here than on other planets of larger size. This would allow them to feel much stronger, have more endurance, and, of course, be able to take long bounding strides of almost twelve feet at a full run. But the gravity wasn’t what was so different.
The planet’s double suns were what made it such an oddball. Anulet was the fourth planet of one of the binary stars, a red giant, named Oz by earlier colonists on Anulet. Being a red giant, the light that fell on Anulet for the most part was reddish light, which deepened the shadows and made contrasting shades that could hurt your eyes to some degree after exposure for a few days. Of course, the colonists had become inured to that a few generations back, and all Anuletians paid the problem no attention.
Oz was not the only sun that shone down on the planet. Eons ago, Oz had captured a smaller main sequence star called Wizard, and with its yellowish light, the shadows on Anulet were often muddy, deep in brownish tones. Every four years, the paths of the suns lined up to shine on Anulet. Right now, only Oz shone down on the planet as Wizard was eclipsed. All shadows would be a deep red color, and the contrasts would be bright for months to come. The light and shadows were only a bit different from when he’d been here before hunting for Jaels.
The Sword received notice to proceed to land on the landing pad at the main lodge buildings a few thousand miles below. Lieutenant Cooper spun the ship to port abruptly, and that got a couple of “ooohs” from Doctor Etter, which made the rest of the groomsmen grin and even chuckle.
A minute later, the Sword landed in front of the enormous lodge, which was built with tossprho tree logs that were ten feet across.
The first member of the hunting party to disembark was Doctor Etter from the Barony Hospital Ship. Tanner thought he looked like he was in a bit of a rush to be back on solid ground. Bram was next and he smiled at the lodge staff lined up to greet them.
Major Alver Stal and Admiral McQueen were next and were still deep in conversation. They’d shared a row of seats and had talked about nothing but the ship off Ghayth. Thus far, they had not been able to come up with anything as an actionable plan.
Ahanu, the Ikarian from Throth, was all smiles. He was going hunting. He was as careful as he could be with his bow and arrows in their impenetrable case. No harm could come to them, but he babied the case nonetheless, as perhaps, Tanner thought, any real hunting race might.
The last three out of the Sword were Admiral Higgins, Prime Minister Lazaro, and Captain Craig Templeton of the RN Marwick. Three dear friends, Tanner knew, and he also knew they’d never hunted before either.
Rows of staff were spread out in front of the large staircase that led up to the lodge. Bellmen and stewards, cooks and pantry girls, front desk staff, concierges, and even security officers stood waiting. Standing in front of the staff was Hunting Guide Master Koenig in his traditional hunter’s garb of browns and greens. He was dressed as he always was in the forest shades of Anulet. Tanner noted that the holster on Koenig’s side held a large revolver. The revolver was blue steel and had white grips. Small ammo leather boxes attached both in front a
nd behind the holster.
A man like that—and then Tanner remembered guide master’s body was probably one percent body fat—armed like that would be a force that could not be stopped.
Similarly dressed huntsmen surrounded the guide master, and they all bowed from the waist fully, held it for about fifteen seconds, and then straightened up at the same time.
Koenig took one step forward. A smile was plastered on his thin face, and his black brows arched over his gray eyes. With vigor and yet solemnness at the same time, he said, “Duke d’Avigdor—welcome to the Ducal Lodge on Anulet. We, your staff, wish you a hundred years and trophies for every wall you own, Duke!”
That got a cheer from the staff behind him, and he grinned even more.
“Your Grace, we have arranged for a nice lunch for you and your guests. Followed by an afternoon in the lodge armory first, followed by some weapons orientation and target practice, Duke. We’ll go out on the hunt tomorrow after a light continental breakfast—and come in midafternoon or so with our trophies, and the grand hunting banquet is tomorrow evening for one and all,” he finished off.
Tanner grinned at him. “If only, Guide Master, if only ...” and that got his guests all smiling too.
“It is too bad that Admiral Childs couldn’t make it, Your Grace—I’ve hunted with him before, and he’s a crack shot!” Koenig said.
“More for us,” Bram quipped.
Everyone laughed as the guide master led them up the wide stairs into the lobby of the lodge. Massive logs, stacked on top of each other, formed the outer walls with smaller timbers used for interior walls and sections too. Behind the group, the staff hustled to accommodate the incoming guests. At the head of the group were nine concierges, who came to each guest and introduced themselves. There was one concierge for each guest, and the guests were led to their own particular rooms. Bellmen got the bags sorted in minutes and delivered each bag as quickly as possible.
However, Doctor Etter wouldn’t let the staff carry his black medical bag nor would Ahanu let anyone even get close to his case that carried his bow. Within an hour, they were all settled, and each made their way down the wide interior double staircase to the dining room off to one side of the lobby. Rows of floor-to-ceiling windows filled the room, and the view of the mountain range just a couple of miles away was stunning. Sunlight, red sunlight, shone down on the raw rock and made the darker heavily shadowed areas a rusty color. The deeper shadowed, reddish-brown-colored areas made it hard to see what might be a few feet ahead. But we won’t be way up there, Tanner thought to himself as he entered the dining room and made his way to the large round table.
“No other guests?” he inquired nicely to the steward who immediately brought him a chilled glass and a pitcher of water.
“No, Your Grace, not these couple of days,” he answered politely and went on to serve others too.
Lunch went fine and Tanner did enjoy the duck. At least he thought it was duck. It was a bird of some kind, all dark meat, with a sauce on the side that tasted both sweet and yet savory too, and he dipped each forkful in the sauce.
After lunch, the guide master, who had eaten at his right hand, stood to talk to the group. “With a hunting party of ten of us, we will split into two groups of five each. The duke, myself, Bram, Doctor Etter, and Captain Templeton in one group. And my second here,” he said as he pointed at the man seated at the table but on the other side, “Hunting Guide Enola, will take out Major Stal, Admiral McQueen, Admiral Higgins, and Ahanu our Ikarian rep on the Confederacy Council. Will that work for everyone?” he inquired.
Already there were catcalls, and Alver made a bet on behalf of his team that the team who brought home the fewest trophies had to do the dishes after the big banquet tomorrow evening. Tanner’s friends were all alpha males, and more of them began boasting. Additional side bets were made between the men as well.
Good to hear and see, Tanner thought, and as he looked around and smiled, Doctor Etter caught his eye and winked at him. Good that perhaps the doctor sees the same as I do—but I won’t mention anything today ...
They laughed over the end of their lunch, and in a half hour, they were down in the bowels of the lodge in the secure armory to choose their arms for the hunt.
Tanner knew exactly what he wanted, and a Merkel appeared in front of him from one of the armory staff. He hoisted it up to his shoulder, worked the action a couple of times, and checked the balance and feel.
“This is good for me,” he said and placed it down in front of him on the waist-high counter.
With the exception of Doctor Etter and Ahanu, everyone followed Tanner’s lead and chose the Merkel. Doctor Etter was convinced to use a lighter carbine, a Remington, which shot a heavy steel-jacketed round and carried fifty rounds in the magazine. Ahanu, as Tanner knew he would, chose to use his bow.
The armory staff presented Ahanu with a variety of choices, but no amount of conversation or discussion would get him to change his mind. Armory staff had even asked for assistance from Koenig who had wandered over to inquire if there was an issue.
“No issue at all,” Ahanu replied. ”Just these persons think that my choice of weapon might be—what did one say—ancient, I think was used. Trust me, Guide Master, this is a weapon that I am well versed in using. If one of these Oveds comes across us even three hundred yards away, he’s mine,” the Ikarian said plainly.
That got a raised black eyebrow from Koenig, but he said not a word and motioned the armory staffer to walk away.
Twenty minutes later, they were all back up at ground level. Everyone went outside behind the lodge. Off to one side of the lodge was a low area that had berms all around it. Hunt staff there went through basic weapon orientation; safe weapons use; loading and unloading; jamming issues; how to clear the weapon; and how to set the safety and take it off.
Every single hunter went through that training, and all had paid enough attention to get a good to go from Guide Master Koenig.
Ahanu had stood and watched all of this, and he went over to speak to one of the staff for a moment when the training seemed to be over. The staffer took a target complete with a stand and jumped into a cart. He drove out to the farthest berm. He got out, set up the easel with the stand on it holding the target, and then drove all the way back. “Speedo says it’s only two hundred and thirty-yards,” he said.
Ahanu nodded as he lifted his weapon case onto the table in front of him. Opening the case, he took out his bow, which was constructed of black wood with what looked like gold inserts at the tips. It was a simple recurve bow, and Tanner remembered the Ikarians he’d met on the Keshowse, their sleeper ship, had used them well. Never seen Ahanu use a bow so this outta be good, Tanner thought.
The Ikarian stepped through the bow, bending one end, the tip, beneath his insole arch to hold the bow firmly. At the same time, he leaned on the bow more and more, as he slid the cord up and up until it locked into place in the bow nock, where it was meant to be. He reached into the case again and took out three arrows with his right hand. He stepped away from the table off to the side and then half-turned.
He had everyone’s attention and Tanner hoped that the distance to the target wasn’t too great, the winds weren’t too strong, and that the target remained rock solid.
Two hundred and thirty yards—farther Tanner knew than he could shoot with any degree of accuracy. The Ikarian took a solid breath. And again. And then he took one more deep breath as he shifted into a square stance with his left foot forward and his right leg behind him.
His right hand, still carrying the three arrows at once, dove forward past the cord about halfway to the grip, and the right hand spun one arrow only to tuck it between his left thumb and the grip, while it pulled back and the arrow’s nock slid into the cord at the same time. Ahanu pulled back strongly in one even pull. Both his eyes were open as he looked at the small target so far away and let the arrow loose. He repeated the same load, draw, and release action two more times. All three a
rrows were sent in less than a second and a half. Eyebrows rose at the speed that all arrows were released, and everyone looked out at the target, but it was too far away to see the results.
Ahanu lifted his left foot, nodded to a member of the hunting staff, and asked that he simply go and get the target and return it. The staff member commented that he’d be sure to not disturb anything on the target, and he drove the cart away in moments.
He returned quickly with the target still on the easel, standing up in the back of the cart. Everyone crowded around and there were several exclamations of ”Oh my God” and even “You gotta be kidding me” from someone.
Tanner didn’t bother to go look but stood staring at Ahanu. “You okay with that shoot,” he asked.
Ahanu shrugged. “First one is off slightly, but other two are fine,” he said as he stepped back into the recurve bow to take the cord. He placed the bow carefully in the case and locked his weapon up once more. For him, there was no issue with what had just happened.
Bram waved Tanner over, and since the suspense was killing him, he ambled the twenty feet to look at the target. Two arrows were so close to the dead center of the rings that they were touching each other. The one arrow that was a whole inch off center was the first one Ahanu had said. Probably finding wind and range and all the things that an archer might have to know to hit a target. “Or kill an Oved, even ...” Tanner said to himself, and he nodded to Guide Master Koenig, whose black brows were still arched up in surprise.
“The hunt was tomorrow ... and that should be promising ...” Tanner said to himself as they all took their weapons and went back into the lodge to put them away until then.
Dinner came and went. They’d all laughed a lot at the stories Admiral McQueen had told of earlier days as a captain and how Admiral Higgins had tried to outdo his stories with ones of his own.
