The Battle for Tomorrow (Ilon the Hunter)

by Frederick Bell

  Both hunters twisted around just in time to see the segathar’s tail disappear over the other side of their vehicle.

  “Where did that one come from?” Oneteesel shouted hoarsely.

  Midlothian could not have cared less, since she fully expected the pack to disperse at any moment and ruin her chances of killing one. “Shoot them!” she screamed.

  Almost immediately the segathars scattered in every direction. With practiced motions both hunters took aim and fired. The first creature went down. After several more shots a second one crashed into the grass.

  “Wonderful! Good sport animals,” Midlothian crackled, discharging another round into the fleeing pack.

  Naturally her hunting companion was enjoying herself immensely. Waving over to Dullacima she told her, “We want to kill more. Go after them.”

  On her order the camouflaged vehicle suddenly lurched from its hiding place. While they followed in quick pursuit they continued firing their guns, felling another before the main body split apart and angled away.

  One particular animal caught Midlothian’s eye. “Leave the rest. That is the one I want.”

  “If it reaches the forest we will never catch it.”

  Her icy stare was enough to shake Dullacima into immediate action. “Go faster!” she shouted to the driver.

  Taking aim Midlothian fired off another round, missing the first three times before the forth shot hit its mark. “Got it!” she roared with satisfaction.

  The segathar lay still on the ground. While the hunting party climbed down one of Dullacima’s crew members ran over to where it lay, kicking at its backside just to be certain it was dead. Soon after that the hunting party came over to stand beside it.

  “Good shot,” Oneteesel complimented her.

  “Of course. I am expert,” Midlothian boasted. “Here you can see a perfect example of my superior sharpshooting skills.”

  She looked over her prize with enormous satisfaction. “Perfect skin. No blemishes or marks. See how well its hide blends into this grass?” Indeed, a segathar hide of good quality was very expensive, and so Midlothian was eager to see it lying on her floor.

  Two of Dullacima’s skinners were preparing to slice open the carcass when Oneteesel happened to be walking past. She was startled and almost fell over backwards when she saw the animal’s arm twitch. “Get away!” she screamed. “Move!”

  The big segathar suddenly reared up on its haunches and closed its jaws around the first crewmember, shaking her as she screamed hysterically. It took several shots at close range to finally bring it down for good.

  “Is it dead?” Oneteesel gasped out breathlessly.

  “This time it must be,” Midlothian answered, firing another blast into it just to be absolutely certain. She stopped beside the first of the two crumpled figures. “This one is dead. And the other one?”

  “She is badly bitten,” Dullacima answered gloomily. “I do not think she will survive.”

  “How unfortunate. Leave them both here so that we can return to city Tykrerek. The last thing I want is someone asking questions.”

  “What of the segathar?”

  “Bring its head.”

  “And the rest of it?”

  She stared at the black scorch marks that riddled its body. “Its hide is worthless now.”

  Obeying, Dullacima signaled to one of her skinners. Oneteesel, her gun still slung across her back, went over to stand beside Midlothian.

  “What good fun,” she said. “We must do this again.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  “How many are dead?” Ilon asked gravely.

  “Once we were twelve. Now,” Gattagat trembled. “Now we are only six.”

  “Half is still better than nothing. You are lucky to be alive.”

  “Only because of you. Your warning saved us from certain death, I am sure of that.”

  The nentenen that the Iranha had tied up to draw them in was an effective ploy, so it could have been much worse had he and Krugjon not reached them in time. “My wish was to have saved you all. It should never have happened. No matter. It is done and cannot be undone. Is Kykiris among your dead?”

  “She left early in the summer for trod Sandisand. None have seen her since.”

  “Then we will never know,” Ilon sighed.

  “You seek her?”

  “I do. Word came to me that there was something of great importance she wished to share. Yet I fear this trek of mine has been for nothing.”

  A hunter named Amissaiked stirred when she heard this. “Kykiris told us of a strange hunter who might be coming. Are you that one?”

  “How many other hunters do you know who look like me?”

  “You are the first,” she said unabashedly. “And no doubt the last. Come with us, Ilon. There is something you must see.”

  They traveled a short distance before crossing into the dark shadow of the woods. There, under a tall tree whose uppermost branches reached almost to the clouds, Amissaiked, with the others helping her, dug into the hard ground. Blind as he was, even Krugjon participated, his one good arm throwing the broken lumps that the others now pushed up towards him.

  Gattagat called out enthusiastically, “I found it.”

  Digging her claws aggressively into the same spot, Amissaiked felt them scratch the hard surface beneath. “Good. I worried that it was lost.” She looked over at Ilon whose eyes were widening with interest. “Buried in the spring,” she explained. “Kykiris said it might be important.”

  Whatever they were uncovering it was something very large, and as Ilon watched and waited he felt more and more certain that the dark shape forming below him was of an unnatural creation. The Iranha were still on his mind, and very soon he knew why.

  “Come down here and see this,” Amissaiked ordered.

  Obeying her, Ilon jumped into the pit to stand beside her as she was brushing away the last covering of dirt. The top portion appeared to separate as Amissaiked lifted her arms higher, still higher, until it landed with a wobbling noise against the opposite wall. As Ilon now peered inside the realization of what he was seeing struck him like a bolt of lightening.

  “Iranha weapons!” he gasped. Reaching into the box he grabbed hold of one and pulled it out. Much bigger than his own gun, more like the ones he had seen the Iranha use on the hunters. And he knew just how to use it on them.

  “A weapon you say.” Gattagat hesitated, and then slowly ran his thumb along the edge of the barrel, the feel of it causing him to wonder aloud at this new and frightening revelation.

  “Yes. A thing of great killing power and destruction. The very thing they use to kill us we shall use to kill them. Where did these come from?”

  “We watched one day. The creatures brought them here, left them.”

  No other reason; that was simply it. None of their thoughts would answer why this had happened, only that it had happened and he now possessed the means to bring this war back to the Iranha. Of course his success or failure depended entirely everyone’s participation.

  “Stay here in your forest and there will always be something to eat, but do not forget the Iranha are hunting here too. Join me in our fight against them. Until all Egris are united together we shall keep dying. There should be a hundred dead Iranha for every one of us they kill. We know where they live, and it is there in their city where they must be destroyed. We watch and learn and soon we will know everything about them. Then we must strike. Tomorrow is coming. So decide now.”

  There was silence, and he could see they were thinking. With six already dead it would be easy to choose, for revenge was still hot in their minds. Yet Ilon hoped cold reasoning would prevail, that they would seize this opportunity to rid themselves of the Iranha forever. Finally he heard a murmur of voices and saw Amissaiked looking over.

  “We shall do it,” she told him. “We shall go with you. Whatever must be done I will not leave your side until I see them and their kind dead.”

  Ilon believed her
. For as long as he could remember he had hoped to hear those words. Kykiris was the first, now these ones, and soon others like them would follow. They would be his missionaries, to spread the word and proselytize the others, and eventually bring these new converts to him. There was still much to be done, so very much, and yet, somehow, he sensed that this was the turning point.

  “Take this,” he said, passing her the big gun. He reached down into the container and gave each of his new recruits the same. “These are your weapons. And this is how you will use them.”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  “It must be captured alive,” Borobos firmly instructed. She pressed a button and the view screen on the wall blackened. “And unharmed.”

  “That ugly thing? You wish it alive?” There was astonishment, even disbelief as the bounty hunter rose from her seat and looked to Borobos for clarification.

  “Yes. Absolutely no killing. Is that clearly understood?”

  “That will be difficult,” she responded, fingering her side-arm. “And very expensive. 14,000 konats. I regret having to ask for so much, but understand my price guarantees a safe pickup and delivery.”

  Borobos’s tiny eyes trembled with rage. This crude hunter was as much a liar as she was a deceitful negotiator. “Is there no end to your greed? What kind of treachery is this? We had a bargain.”

  “Capturing it alive wasn’t part of our agreement.”

  “Nor was tripling your price. It’s outrageous!” she exploded. “I won’t pay it!”

  “That’s too bad. Other people might gladly pay for your animal-thing. But I’ll mention it to Oneteesel. Perhaps she might know of someone else who can better handle this so secretive and delicate task for you.” She turned about and headed for the doorway.

  “Filthy, despicable creature,” Borobos hissed under her breath. “Wait!”

  There was an expression of immense satisfaction that radiated from every line on the bounty hunter’s face. “Then you have my money, all of it?” When she saw Borobos nod she strode back down the aisle and held out her hand to seal their agreement. “Good. You were wise to settle this with me. Others might have taken less, and undoubtedly would have botched the job. Perhaps they might have even talked to the wrong people.” Her voice was low, unctuous. “I understand your dilemma. Why an important scientific discovery like this could provoke a lot of controversy, maybe even panic. Some people might be happier to see it destroyed. But you can count on me. Anything to advance the cause of science.”

  “Naturally. For a hefty price.”

  “For a fair price,” she corrected her.

  Borobos quickly signed her authorization to the contract and handed it back over. “And does this buy your complete silence as well?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I wish to hear nothing further of this matter, nor do I want to see you again unless it is with this creature I specified.” She then moved her body to show her thorough disgust of the proceedings. “You are a well paid exploiter and profiteer, part of Oneteesel and her loathsome band of cut-throats, and I cannot bear your presence here any longer. Now get out of my sight.”

  “As you wish,” she grumbled, turning about and stomping out of the room.

  Poxiciti and Nalanusat soon appeared in the doorway, eager to hear all about what had just transpired. Both had been absent from the bargaining process mostly because their presence might have over-inflated the bounty hunter’s normally exorbitant fee. So when Borobos reported the actual cost Poxiciti very nearly toppled over.

  “That much?” he gasped, his skin hissing with the sudden rush of air.

  “Do you not realize how much this creature has already cost us?” she said coarsely. “How many of our own attempts to capture it have failed? I thought it was clear that we employ a professional hunter. Under your orders I made inquiries, paid informants so that all this be done in secret. Now, is this still what you want?”

  “Unhappily—yes. Thinking of it that way the creature is more important than the money.”

  “I don’t like it at all,” Nalanusat broke in. “She might run straight to Pulima Cos.”

  Poxiciti was thinking and worrying about this too. “Can we risk it?”

  “I’m afraid we have to now.” Her next words were brutally cold. “That is, unless you want her killed.”

  He pretended not to hear what she said. Even so he writhed at the very thought of it, for sanctioned killing was a distasteful matter of which he wanted no part.

  “Do you think she can be trusted?”

  “No,” Borobos replied truthfully. “But she is incredibly greedy. I believe that she would snare Pulima Cos herself if the price was right.”

  For a brief instant Poxiciti found himself thinking about it. Her death he wanted very much. “That is my greatest desire, of which I would have the greatest pleasure. To wipe my feet on her wretched hide every morning.”

  “It can be done. Easily done. I can bring you her head. Simply order it and—”

  “No!” He swiftly and sharply rebuked her. “Killing her will only bring another like her to power. Instead I need you and your female infiltrators to bring me condemning evidence, to pull down her entire government and grind her and her sleazy cohorts into the dust. Now is the time to act. We have to close in on her before these witnesses disappear entirely.”

  “Then our next logical course of action is to prosecute her business associates, those who we know are guilty of environmental crimes.”

  “Midlothian would be a good target,” Nalanusat said.

  “Particularly her,” Poxiciti agreed. “Do you know something?”

  Apparently he did, for his enthusiasm was so great that both his listeners felt a surge of excitement as he talked. “Normally all waste producing businesses have to be registered with the city. The environmental fee is exorbitant, and then there are the clean air taxes. To bypass all that, all anyone has to do is set up their operation outside of the city’s jurisdiction. However it is known that many of these people are operating within the city limits. But rather than drive them out of business, Midlothian is extorting a hefty operators fee, and uses her military muscle to keep the dissenters in line.”

  “And do you have proof of this?”

  “Plenty. If we agree to protect their identities three of these polluters will press charges against her.”

  “Well done, Nalanusat. Well done. Out of fear for her worthless life she might implicate her other accomplices too, maybe even Pulima Cos. Have her arrested and jailed with the others.”

  However, in the days that followed, the legal campaign they mounted became an insurmountable wall of stone. In spite of the evidence against her it was an accusation which Midlothian vehemently denied, even after several of her key staffers testified to the contrary. When confronted with charges of blackmail she protested mightily about receiving a large sum of money in exchange for dropping the investigation against a known polluter. Likewise, Falix Loax, a high powered political organizer for Pulima Cos, was also under investigation for awarding lucrative government contracts to some of her biggest financial contributors. She, of course, refuted the charges absolutely, citing her years of dedicated service to the Epiphilinian people as proof. In fact, whenever suspects were fingered for prosecution, the investigators who were sent in—disappeared. Others were harassed or physically assaulted. In one case, Oneteesel was named in connection with an influence peddling scam. She flatly denied any wrongdoing, calling the prosecutor a vicious liar and fabricator of untruths.

  Just when it appeared that there was no hope of ever convicting her, insiders reported a rift had developed between Pulima Cos and Godderam Gorta, a wealthy investor who apparently balked at Pulima Cos’s demand for restitution after some of her investments went sour. Evidently there was a brief power struggle, and Godderam Gorta soon mysteriously disappeared. Though her body was never found, everyone suspected murder. And after her office was found torn apart, no one doubted the rumors. Important do
cuments were missing, as were large amounts of money. Investigators charged that a high level cover up was going on, but still no one was able to produce any hard evidence.

  That was until the arrest of a scandalous character named Loggernod. He was wanted in connection with a sex-for-information scheme, and numerous other sex related charges including bribery and prostitution. But even more importantly he was once a close companion of Godderam Gorta’s and was with her on the day she disappeared. In the interests of saving his own skin, Loggernod was eager to co-operate, so what he told the prosecution was incredible, amazing. In return for dropping all of the charges against him, he agreed to turn over evidence, implicating none other than Pulima Cos herself as Godderam Gorta’s murderer.

  When these new allegations surfaced, Poxiciti and his political supporters quickly sprang into action. Had he not ordered Loggernod’s immediate transfer to a more secure facility, then Loggernod would have certainly joined his dead companion, since a squadron of Pulima Cos’s soldiers soon showed up demanding that he be turned over to them.

  Now under a constant threat of death, Loggernod had no choice but to tell them everything he knew. Although the information came from a dubious source the prosecution was convinced of the legitimacy of his story. His eye-witness testimony was sure to sink any chance Pulima Cos had to remain in power. To prevent Pulima Cos from learning of his whereabouts, each night he was moved to a new location, sometimes to another city. In the meantime, Pulima Cos had been summoned to appear in court to face charges of murder. And now, on the eve of her trial, Poxiciti went to sleep convinced that her reign of tyranny was finally over.

  That night, while everyone was asleep, a distant shout pulled Poxiciti awake. Soon there were more shouts, joined by screams, then the sound of running footsteps. Someone thumped on his door.

  “Wake up! Wake up!”

  Alarmed, Poxiciti crawled out of bed and waddled over to the door. A dark figure burst through the doorway, stumbled and collided in the darkness of the room. Falanandor, one of his attendants, seized Poxiciti by the arms and shook him.