The Battle for Tomorrow (Ilon the Hunter)

by Frederick Bell

  Back in their war camp was a frenzy of activity and excitement. Lag guns were being distributed, and those who volunteered to carry them now listened attentively to their drill instructors. It was a satisfying sight, seeing this immense army and reveling in the impending battle which would rid them of the Iranha at last.

  Already many of these hunters had broken apart from their own trods and were mingling together, talking with one another. What they talked about most was the Iranha. Everyone was telling their own story, recounting the unfortunate circumstances and those in their trod who had since died. They spent the better part of the day disseminating this information, and while it was sad to hear, each hunter swore an oath that they would personally avenge the dead.

  In the meantime there were other diversions—one of these was Ilon. Many still had not yet seen the Egris who was not Egris, so whenever he happened to be nearby they suspended their talking to marvel at his strangeness. Later, when he approached some hunters who were locked in a heated argument a large group crowded behind him and listened on.

  “What is wrong?” he asked the nearest, an argumentative female who he recognized from an earlier encounter.

  “We have nothing to eat,” she complained. “You bring us here without food, expect us to fight with empty stomachs. Maybe we should go hunting right now.”

  Ilon was amazed how this thick-skulled creature could think of nothing else but food. So much was at stake that to think of anything else other than the Iranha was almost an act of treason. Instead of plunging his spear into her as he should have done, he regarded her with contempt to show how little he cared for her or her feelings.

  “I can see you are a hunter who prizes food far more than the lives of your companions.” His eyes were ablaze with anger yet he spoke clearly so she would hear his every word. “Eat tomorrow, fat one. We came here to kill Iranha today. If you wish to fill your stomach then fill it with this.” He reached downward and picked up a handful of Egris dung.

  His listeners gave a whoop of laughter when they saw this. The hunter was so taken aback by his forcefulness and command that her jaw slackened and hung limply open; she was speechless. After he left, the laughter ebbed slowly away and the crowd dispersed. But a few of the watchers followed him to see where he would go next.

  Meanwhile Horhon was waiting expectantly for Ilon’s return. He had been gone since the morning, though Ilon had promised to meet her before nightfall. Even so, the day was getting on and dusk was that much closer.

  Just before dark Horhon heard someone calling her name. Out of the corner of her eye she recognized the familiar figure coming closer, then fell back on her tail and expressed genuine surprise.

  “Saskakel—is that you?”

  The big hunter grinned. The world might have changed but he was still the same old Saskakel. “We parted so long ago, Horhon, yet it seems like yesterday.”

  There was a touch of formality in her voice. She had not forgotten the past, the harsh words, or why he had left the trod. “It pleases me to see that you are well. Did you find another trod that was more to your liking?”

  All at once the smile left his face and he was grim and silent before he answered. “The Iranha killed many,” he said bitterly. “I watched them die, saw the deadly creatures who skinned them.”

  “I am sorry for what they did,” Horhon lamented. “So many have died.”

  “It was my mistake. You said many things in the past and I should have listened. When we first parted I believed the Iranha would eventually leave, that the killing would be over for good.” He lowered his head. “I was blind to the truth.”

  “Perhaps,” Horhon smiled. “Now enough said of the past.” She reached out and grasped hold of his hands. “I am glad that we are together again, old friend.”

  “As am I.” His hands were trembling when he looked directly into her eyes. “Old friend,” he said. Friend.

  Overhead the sky was darkening and beginning to lose some of its color; faint stars appeared overhead and flickered down. By the time the sun touched on the horizon the attackers were already in position on the field. Ilon sat in the grass holding his lag gun, was looking out across the plain at the Iranha city beyond. Gangahar came over and crouched low beside him. He too had a lag gun slung across his shoulder.

  “All is ready. Is it time?”

  “Soon.”

  So they waited in absolute silence, watching as the red sun sank lower and lower, until the field was barely illuminated. Rising slowly to his feet Ilon climbed up onto his mount, pulled the reins tight; Krugjon snorted nervously.

  “Hunters!” Eighty thousand were riveted to his every word. Ilon raised his arm. “Ready!”

  The air rumbled with the sound of their claws snapping into place. Tails straightened, legs tensed. As Ilon glanced westward the dying sun glinted in his face, and when he blinked his eyes open—it was gone. Now there was only the empty field between them and the Iranha city.

  “Go!”

  Chapter Forty Two

  The first of the attackers were away. The battle had begun.

  Thousands of hunters poured onto the field, leaping, jumping, striding forward, an unstoppable wall of death that was steering straight towards the city. Dust clouds churned under the darkening sky. The sound, like thunder, boomed across the open plains. A large herd of skrill, clumps of green brush still dangling from their beaked jaws, galloped away in the opposite direction. Nearby, a flock of soros feeding on a corpse, arrowed back into the air.

  Ilon, riding astride the thick shoulders of his companion, held tightly onto the reins as Krugjon’s powerful hind legs flattened the grassy terrain and shot back into the air. Now he was sailing high above the ground, the wind was howling in his face, and he felt the thrill of exhilaration to be part of this fighting force.

  At the same time Ilon was trying to concentrate on the battle strategy, trying hard to picture things clearly in his mind and envisioning how they might be. Would the Iranha be waiting, ready with their guns? In his mind’s eye he was already inside of the city, was enjoying the killing and destroying, watching all of it crumble to the ground. He wanted it to be exactly this way, just as he imagined it now. However as the gravity pulled him heavily back into the saddle, even these happy thoughts were drowned out by the thunderous noise of the attackers.

  Horhon and Gangahar were jumping alongside him, keeping pace, while the others who flanked them formed a straight line that stretched sightlessly into the dark. They were going forward, advancing on the city, and the invisible line which marked the turning point was now behind them. The plan was made and they were part of something that could not be changed. Even if Ilon wanted to stop, it was too late. To alter their course now, to change it in the slightest way was suicide. Surprise was their only advantage, for if they started back and regrouped, the Iranha would certainly be ready for them the next time, and they would never have this chance again. So why stop now? He had lived all his life for this day, this moment, to deliver his enemy this stunning blow from which they would never recover. He gripped the reins tighter in his hands as he hurtled closer and closer toward his destiny.

  Chapter Forty Three

  Nequit, Pulima Cos’s personal secretary, burst into her master’s quarters and ran straight to her bed. This was the second time in her presence tonight and Pulima Cos had promised her instant death if she returned again. Nevertheless the importance of this news she bore was worth risking her life to bring.

  Seeing Nequit coming through the doorway one of Pulima Cos’s male companions shrieked aloud and pulled up the covers about him. The other, a servant of low rank who undoubtedly was sleeping his way to a promotion, dismounted her and assumed a sitting stance with his legs splayed open so that Nequit would see his private parts.

  When Pulima Cos looked up and saw that her secretary was standing at her bedside, watching her, she was possessed by a cold killing rage. “You stupid, insensate, mindless, unthinking, half-witted . . .” she sa
id coarsely, hurling as many insults as was possible before her next breath cut her off. “How did one so brainless ever come into my service? It is a wonder you are even capable of listening to my simplest instructions. I told you that I was not to be disturbed, and yet twice I am forced to bear with your unwanted attentions. I should have you killed, maybe I will. Explain this intrusion at once before I make up my mind.”

  The messenger gazed momentarily at her repellent naked body, then looked away. “Apologies for my bold entrance,” she panted, for she had run quickly here to bring her this startling information and her skin was still gasping for air. “This news came in only moments ago. Apparently one of our transports flying into the city has just reported passing through an immense dust cloud. Their on-board tracking system has picked up a large animal herd on the move, coming this way.”

  “Coming here? To my city?” Pulima Cos looked at her disbelievingly. “What kind of animals? How many? Where are they now?”

  Shaking her head no to each one of her interrogatives she replied, “Unknown. Regrettably the pilot was not that specific, although she did state that their number appeared large enough to pose a possible danger to our citizenry.”

  “Well then, dispatch my reserves outside immediately. Surely they could use some target practice.”

  Moments later Pulima Cos was returning to her bed when she suddenly felt the floor tremble slightly beneath her. The next time it happened the tremor was a little stronger. Decorative ornaments hanging on the walls began to rattle; the dull distant sound was like rolling thunder. Although it was too dark outside to see anything the metlaglass window was vibrating in its frame; still the rumbling grew louder.

  After summoning her aides Pulima Cos hurriedly pulled on her robe and went to the doorway. The shrill sound of the city’s emergency alarm was blaring in the corridor. The whole building was shaking now. People were running in a panic through the hallway, shouting. She forcibly stopped a dreg who was running past.

  “You. What is happening out there?” she demanded.

  “Something outside—attacking now!” the dreg screamed hoarsely. She tore herself away and raced for the stairwell.

  When Pulima Cos returned to her chamber she was very much afraid. Nor did any of her aides improve her present state of mind, for the answers they supplied were vague and interpretive. While they babbled she was pacing the floor, thinking and worrying. If this was a battle, then who were they fighting?

  *****

  “Do you see anything yet?” The hahlok commander hovered over her charge, trembling, eyes wide with fright. Perhaps it was foolish to have brought her soldiers outside the protective walls of the city. Standing here now it felt like an earthquake, and she fought just to keep her balance.

  “Wait, I see something!” one of her dreg shouted over the deafening noise.

  “There!” another shouted. “Moving on the field!”

  While the soldiers had powerful guns and could kill or destroy moving targets indiscriminately, nothing had fully prepared them for what was now approaching. Under the bright glare of the floodlights the dark forms of the attackers were emerging out of the dust cloud, thundering swiftly forward.

  The frightened commander let her thermal visor drop to the ground, so great was her shock. “Segathars! Shoot them! Shoot them!”

  The sound of gunfire erupted across the defensive line. The soldiers started firing in panic, shooting aimlessly at anything that moved, though it was mostly the air that they struck.

  Unfortunately for the hahlok commander, her last view was of an airborne segathar, its teeth-filled mouth smiling death as it came down on top of her.

  “Retreat!” a soldier screamed. “Back to the city!”

  It was a slaughter. The slow running Iranha were easily cut down and torn to pieces. The hunters kept on killing and stopped only because there was no one left to kill. Nor were they content to wait here for replacements—they wanted to kill more now.

  As the first wave stormed the city’s outer perimeter only the impenetrable, high wall kept them at bay; the front gates were closed and barred. Now only this barrier stood between them and the Iranha, between them and total destruction.

  Jumping off of Krugjon’s shoulders Ilon trained his gun on the great doors. The air hissed and crackled around him as the electrical charge struck. A large portion of the wall crumbled down and collapsed into its own dust.

  “Inside!” he screamed. “On to victory!”

  *****

  The hastily convened meeting had drawn together some of the city’s most important leaders and functionaries, summoned here by Pulima Cos herself to discuss serious and grievous matters concerning the fate of their city. In attendance were five of her senior hahlok commanders. From the grim and set expression on each of their faces it seemed the fate of the city was already sealed. Those of the lowest station stood outside the crowded circle of confidants and advisors. From there they listened and tried to understand some of what was happening. Yet those who were fortunate enough to see the view screen closed their eyes to the grisly event now taking place outside. The scene that unfolded was a shocking one. Personnel monitors specially fitted on each soldier relayed the carnage back to a stunned and horrified audience.

  “Segathars,” Pulima Cos hissed in hatred. Turning to Malhasbus, her most experienced military advisor, she directed her harshest criticism yet. “Evidently you did not dispatch enough of our soldiers outside, commander. Your failure. I shall not forget that. Now—what can you do to harden our city’s defenses against this beastly invader?”

  First Malhasbus conferred with several of her top aides before responding. The tone of her voice, the shape of her stance, indicated a great reluctance to answer. “Honestly—nothing. We’re totally unprepared for an invasion of this magnitude,” she admitted nervously. “Who among us could have imagined such a thing?” Glancing warily at the view screen she pointed out what was already frighteningly obvious to everyone else in the room. “They’re at the outer wall surrounding the city. Look—here and here.” She indicated a dark cloud rising alongside two different branches of the wall. “Are they not digging?”

  Barbis Lim, a high ranking military official, added further to this grim report by saying, “I seriously doubt the wall will keep them out for very long. However, the inner wall of the old city has been fortified and might hold them back temporarily.”

  “What do you mean temporarily?” Pulima Cos demanded. “Are we not safe here?”

  The commander looked at her gravely. “No.”

  “We cannot hope to stop them all,” Malhasbus continued. “Some of the buildings might keep them out long enough for us to shore up some of our key defenses. There is a high probability that the city generators will be one of their primary targets. I suggest we send in more troops to protect our most critical installations.”

  “They are stupid animals!”

  “I sincerely hope you are right,” she responded uneasily. “Because if they get inside the city, if they reach any of our occupied buildings—people will die. However, if their attack is guided by intelligence then I think this city and everyone in it will die destroyed.” Those who were listening to the tense silence could hear the sound of their own hearts beating. “We still have time to act. Lives can still be saved. Shall I give the order to evacuate?”

  Pulima Cos could barely restrain the blinding rage building within her. “Leave? Abandon our city? Never!” she screamed, hammering her fist against the wet metal of her desk. “I think you are grossly overestimating their chances of success, commander. I want every one of your soldiers equipped with a lag gun.” Such was her order that even her lowest ranking officers took umbrage.

  “That will demolish this city,” Malhasbus protested. “I strongly suggest small arms. We need only to kill them—not obliterate them.”

  “Very well,” Pulima Cos huffed. “Now carry out your orders. The next time we meet I want to see a city full of dead segathars, or I promi
se it will be your own hide that will decorate my floor.”

  Obeying her command the crowd quickly dispersed, everyone had their own duties to perform. When Pulima Cos was once more alone she summoned Nequit into her presence.

  “Have my private shuttle prepared for immediate departure.”

  Despite her confidence that the soldiers would dispatch these filthy creatures, she was too important to let herself become their next meal. So she would leave. In the meantime, while her shuttle was being readied she demanded an update on the battle. A lowly dreg escorted her downstairs, taking her straight to Malhasbus. A temporary command post had been set up in the building’s main lobby. From here the battle leaders directed their troops, shouting urgent orders to messengers who hurried away into the night. Others returned moments later with the latest information. Aides stepped forward, conferring briefly with their superiors before they settled back and waited to be called upon again.

  When Pulima Cos arrived Malhasbus was seated, her hands drawn up about her face. The news was very bad.

  “The segathars are inside the city,” she told her gravely. “I do not know how they did it but several of our key positions have been overrun. Evidently they made us think they were coming under the wall. Instead, while we were sending our troops to meet them the bulk of their attacking force came through the main doors.

  Pulima Cos’s eyes widened. “How?”