Its fury apparently exhausted, the newcomer released the obviously dead Krag to fall to the ground like an under-filled burlap sack.
It took only three strides to bring the hulking form back to Max’s side. Between the dim light and Max’s fading consciousness, all he could tell about the creature is that it was roughly twice as tall as a man, built like a grizzly bear on steroids, and seemed to have an infinite supply of scimitar-like claws and dagger-like teeth. The huge animal stared down at Max with obviously intelligent yellow-green eyes as the young naval officer lost consciousness.
**********
Would someone turn out that damn light shining in my eyes?
Even with his eyes closed, Max could tell that brilliant light was falling on his face. It took him only a moment to figure out based on the warmth on his forehead and cheeks that he was in direct sunlight. He opened his eyes gradually, squinting against the glare, only to see clear, blue sky directly above, ringed by tall trees, meaning that he was in a forest clearing. He quickly sat up, alerted by the pain in his right arm that he had been shot, but also surprised by the degree of mobility he had in the arm after sustaining what he surmised was a pretty serious injury. The wound was unbandaged and the Krag bullet’s path through Max’s body was filled with what looked and felt like artificial skin. A serious-looking pack of medical supplies lay open on a polymer sheet spread beside him on which rested four infusion bags of what Max suspected to be some kind of plasma or blood substitute.
Hearing something that sounded like soft growling, Max turned in the direction of the sound to see the huge creature that had killed the Krag sitting calmly on a log near a pot of what smelled like some kind of exotic gumbo cooking on a camp stove and talking into what could only be a comm device.
Seeing that Max was awake, the being terminated its conversation, came to its feet, and walked around to stand directly in front of him. Despite its size, it moved with astonishing grace and precision. If a giant carnivorous cat and a world-class ballerina were merged into a two legged animal built roughly like a greatly overgrown bear, its movements would be a crude echo of this creature’s deadly but refined motion. Max looked the being up and down and tried to come to grips with the totality of what stood before him: all four and a half meters of its height, all 750 kilograms of its mass, all eight of its bayonet-long claws (which it was flexing at that very moment), and all fifty or so of its twenty centimeter-long, dagger shaped teeth. Its powerful muscles rippled its grayish brown fur with each movement. Its penetrating stare seemed to miss nothing.
It didn’t wear much in the way of clothing in the conventional sense, but it did wear something that looked like a body armor vest festooned with pockets over which there was a complex-looking harness with places to hang weapons holsters, equipment bags, ammunition magazines, and other equipment that combat personnel typically carried on their persons, supplemented with an equipment belt.
There were two empty attachment points on the harness, likely one for the medical supply bag Max had already noticed and one for the other bag of what looked to be food, water, and camping supplies lying on the other side of the log on which the creature had been sitting. There was also a long scabbard on its back that looked as though it held one or more weapons, perhaps a sword, a rifle, or both. The newcomer’s coloring and the tufting of the fur around its high set ears reminded Max of a Koala bear, except that this creature looked as though it might snack on Koala bears the way a human might snack on Brazil nuts
It was by far the most formidable sentient being ever seen by anyone in Known Space.
If I weren’t mentally numb from all the other terrifying shit I’ve been through lately, this thing would scare me absolutely shitless.
The creature stood silently staring at Max with inscrutable yellow-green eyes, seemingly waiting for something. Max knew not what. After about a minute and a half of staring, it grabbed Max by the front of his uniform, set him on his feet, and then, with a backhand stroke from its left hand, sent the startled young officer flying three meters through the air. As soon as Max landed, the alien strode up to him, grasped each of Max’s upper arms between its forefinger and thumb, hoisted him three meters into the air, and set him down--none too gently--on his feet.
Stepping back and standing straight upright, it gave off a set of roars, sounding like a pissed off tiger making it clear to the gorillas that they left their stinking, banana-seed-filled primate crap in the wrong part of the jungle. The electronic module implanted in Max’s head gave a simultaneous translation.
“ON YOUR FEET, FRUIT EATER! Hunter meets hunter on his feet. Warrior meets warrior on his feet.”
Endless hours of drill kicked in to bring Max to rigid-as-a-bayonet, perfectly upright, parade ground attention, complete with an elbow-cracking salute. The forest around him swayed only slightly as a surprisingly minimal result of Max’s gunshot wound. Seconds ticked by, and the creature did nothing but stare at Max with what he believed to be a critical eye. All this time, Max remained at rock-still attention, continuing to hold the as yet unreturned salute--with his injured arm--and wondering if the creature would return it. Max was not long in suspense as the angry tiger noises resumed, this time with a few grizzly bears wrestling each other notes thrown in for good measure. The implant again did its job. “I am Commander Vllgrhmrr of the Vaaach, reared in the deadly Krlmjrrh Badlands where all that moves on legs, four or two, is hunted by the giant Prnddrssh Cat. I am Forest Master and Shepherd of the Young. Before I was old and weak, I was a Bringer of Stealthy Death, ending lives of hundreds of my race’s enemies with nothing but these claws and these teeth.”
“Old and weak?” If this fellow is old and weak, I’d hate to run into a Vaaach that’s young and strong!
Vllgrhmrr continued. “My sacred duty to you and to your fathers before you is to be your true and faithful Trainer. Yours is to obey without pause or question. If you do this, you will learn from me, become a Hunter of Vermin, and live in honor. If you do not, you will become hunted by the vermin, and die. Unless I kill you first. You are to call me ‘Trainer.’”
“Good morning, class. My name is Ms. Fontenot and I will be your teacher this year. I love children and I’m sure that we will have a wonderful second grade together.” I’d give a million credits to have Ms. Fontenot as my teacher right now. What kind of teacher is this guy? I bet he marks down for spelling and just loves humans.
Raw.
Having spoken his peace, the Vaaach stood stock still staring at Max, as though--once again--waiting for Max to do something that he wasn’t doing. Not being particularly eager to be knocked across the clearing again, Max racked his brain to figure out what Trainer was waiting for.
Oh, wait a minute. He just introduced himself, so he’s waiting for me to do the same. And, he showed me what to say and how to say it. I need to give the same information in the same order.
“I am . . .” Max said, his voice sounding timid and weak to his own ears so he stopped talking. That’s not going to cut it, Max. This Trainer guy is one seriously badass motherfucker and he’s not here just to teach me what a warrior does but what a warrior is. I can’t sound like and act like a 16 year old wet-behind-the-ears naval Lieutenant (JG), thousands of light years from home and beyond any help from my own people, who feels like pissing his pants every time he devotes any serious thought to how dire his situation really is. I’ve got to sound and act like a young warrior in the rough, hungry for knowledge of warfare and thirsty for the blood of my people’s enemies. I’m tough as old leather, hard as steel, and I eat raw Krag off the bone for breakfast with a Tabasco sauce chaser. .
Pulling himself slightly taller, Max managed to square his shoulders back a little bit more and stick his chest out just a little bit farther. Then there was the part about filling the space with his commanding voice. He had actually gotten some help in that department last year from when he sneaked backstage to meet the actors after a performance of Julius Caesar by New Avalon Royal
Shakespeare Repertory Company on a morale tour of forward naval bases. The seasoned actor who played Marullus took a liking to Max and gave him some fairly extensive voice coaching, telling the rest of the cast that “the pushy young lad is certainly going to be an admiral one day so it would be a good thing if everyone could hear and understand his orders.” Max and the actor worked the same speech over and over for almost two hours. Now, after a year, Max could remember only the first three sentences: “Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome to grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?”
Max might not remember the whole speech, but the vocal skills were now wired into permanent muscle memory. In a voice worthy of Caesar himself, Max tried to do the whole human race proud as he proclaimed, “I am Maxime Tindall Robichaux of the Union of Earth and Terran Settled Worlds, reared on planet Nouvelle Acadiana, a world of deadly marshes and impenetrable swamps populated by poisonous snakes, flesh eating parasites, blood sucking insects, carnivorous fish, and ferocious hunting reptiles.” So what if the wetlands are only about 75% of the land area--they’re still pretty damn dangerous. “I am a commissioned officer with the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade in the Union Space Navy and am the commander/pilot of an SFR-52 reconnaissance fighter, Nightshade class, registry number KMRH-7239, on a mission deep into Krag space to gather military intelligence that my people will use to kill more Krag.” He grasped his boarding cutlass. “With this blade, I killed a battle-seasoned Krag warrior when I was only about half my current age, and with either this,” he raised his cutlass, “or this” he drew and held out his dirk, “I have spilled the blood of five more and watched them die at my feet.” He sheathed his weapons. “My sacred duty is to learn what you will teach me of the Vaaach warrior and hunter ways, and to return to my people with that knowledge, as well as with the valuable intelligence I gathered on the Krag. I will become a Hunter of Vermin,” whatever the hell that is, “and live in honor. I will not die here so far from the trees of my ancestors.”
Trainer’s nostrils flared briefly. Approval? “Unlikely, puny human. Unlikely. But possible. Now, clawless monkeyspawn, your learning begins now. You honored my rank, in your way. You are right to do so. But, thisday you serve the Vaaach and honor your Trainer in our way. Patient hunter stance!”
Max had never heard of “patient hunter stance” but he had a weird hunch that the navy’s “parade rest” might be in the ball park, so he stood at parade rest: feet shoulder width apart, shoulders back, hands tucked into the small of his back. The Vaaach looked him up and down, giving no indication of approval or disapproval. Max read this as meaning that he had come fairly close, but that the Vaaach was overlooking the deficiencies for now because he had bigger fish to fry. Or wild pigs to snack on. Or whatever.
“That will do. Learn now how to honor your superiors in the service of the Vaaach. Become a tree!”
Become a tree? What the fuck? How can I become a Goddamn tree? I can’t turn green or grow bark for skin or put down roots or make myself a home for squirrels and coons and possums. Crap. He’s going to knock me across the fucking clearing again. I don’t want to get knocked across the fucking clearing. Think, Max. THINK! He expects me to know this and there has got to be some reason for that. Maybe there are some universals to military training and maybe this guy is like a navy Mother Goose with fangs . . . and if this guy were my Mother Goose, the first step here would be to have me stand at attention. That’s it! I can’t turn green, but I can stand tall and rigid and still . . . like a tree.
Max came to attention. Trainer’s nostrils flared, almost imperceptibly.
“Acceptable, primate. Barely. Now, you must heed carefully my words.” The Vaaach took a step to place himself about a meter and a half directly in front of Max, and drew himself to his full (immense) height with what Max interpreted as a degree of formality.
“Do you swear upon the trees of your home and the bones of your fathers and mothers back to the beginning of days that you will honor any command I shall give to you, be it to fight or not to fight, to kill or not to kill, to gather or to scatter, to go forward or fall back, or even to live or to die?”
“Yes, Trainer, I do,” Max replied, abashed by the solemnity of the oath.
“Of the bladeweapons you carry, which is the one for which you would reach first to kill the deadliest of your foes? Grasp it as to wield it, but do not draw it.”
Max’s right hand reached for the boarding cutlass hanging in its scabbard at his side, and grasped the hilt. The weapon had been within his arm’s reach every minute of every day since he killed his first Krag on the USS San Jacinto all those years ago. It had tasted Krag blood several times since.
“Your hand on the bladeweapon stands in the place of the swearing you just spoke. They are the same. Now, do you also swear upon the soil and the waters from which the Great Maker hand-formed your body and upon the blood which gives that body life that you will be true to the Vaaach Combined Armed Services, never to betray in any way those who lead you, those whom you lead, or those who fight at your side?”
“Yes, Trainer, I do.”
“Then make a fist of your other hand and place it over the heart that pumps your life’s blood.”
Max did so.
“This act stands in the place of that swearing.” The Trainer then placed his dinner-plate sized, lightly furred hand on his own weapon’s hilt. “Your swearing is heard and its words are carved in letters of honor upon my heart. I accept your order-following, and swear upon the trees of my home and the bones of my fathers and mothers back to the beginning of days to lead you as best I can, to see that you are fed and clothed and sheltered and rested and healed and punished and rewarded as if I were your sire, and that if your blood must be spilled, that it be spilled only at the greatest need and for good cause. In no event shall your life, your blood, or your limb, or any part of you be thrown away, for these are all precious gifts of the Great Maker. My hand on this blade stands for this swearing.” He then placed his fist over a spot just below the center of his chest and slightly to the right. “I also swear upon the soil and the waters from which the Great Maker hand-formed my body and upon the blood which gives my body life that I will never lead you in any act of betrayal, nor any act more cruel than called for by the hard heart of war to friend and foe alike, nor any act that brings dishonor. My hand over my bloodmover stands for this oath.”
He allowed his arms to return to his side and then took a comfortable stance. Max followed suit.
“Show me what you have learned, human.”
Max rendered honors to the Trainer who inspected every detail with a critical eye. With the extended claw of the little finger of his right hand, he pointed out where feet needed to be closer together, chin dipped slightly, fist over the heart gripped more firmly, or the muscles of the sword arm tensed slightly as though Max was a split second away from drawing his cutlass. When Trainer was satisfied, he stepped back and returned honors. As soon as Max had gone back to the parade rest stance, Trainer made a gesture: a chopping motion with his left arm pointed directly at Max.
As a wild, hairy ass guess, I’m going to say that this gesture means “again.”
Max repeated the salute. Vllgrhmrr’s nostrils flared slightly more than before. He returned Max’s honors without any correction.
“Your grasp of the Mrrzhrr will do for now,” Vllgrhmrr said. “I must speak on another matter before the trail of the truth grows cold. The Vaaach did not plan and did not foresee that you would face the Krag vermin who wounded you. You will later learn how and why they were here. Until then, know that we erred and have lost honor. We do not ask your forgiveness and will not accept it if offered, for this pain is ours to bear for a time.
“You earned no honor in killing the Krag, for the Krag--at least as their race lives now—are mere vermin.” The Trainer looked into the distance with what Max read, for some reason, as sadness. “They were not always thus. The Krag have lost their
way and strayed far from the path of honor.” He turned back to Max.
“But, while you earned no honor, neither did you bring shame upon your fathers, which is more than I expected.”
Was that a compliment?
“You may now take a short rest. Take of the food you have brought. Be ready for further training in 25 minutes. I will keep watch from upwind at a distance. I wish neither to see nor hear nor smell the fruit and grasses and leaves and bark you are about to chew like a grazing animal.”
Moving with great speed but without making a sound, the Vaaach dashed off to one of the nearer trees and leaped just shy of two meters straight into the air, reaching up to get a grip on a substantial lower limb with his claws. He then easily swung the rest of his body up onto the limb, stood up, and walked to the tree trunk just as easily as Max would walk down a ship’s corridor. Upon reaching the trunk, the Vaaach sank his claws into the bark and, using them for purchase, launched himself at least a meter and a half straight up, anchored himself to the trunk, and repeated the process until he was about 50 meters above the ground. He then picked a thick branch, walked about halfway down toward the end, and lay on his belly, wrapping his arms and legs around the trunk.
And disappeared.
Well, not actually disappeared in the strict sense of the word. With his binocs Max could barely make out the Vaaach’s position, but only because he knew exactly where to look. Vllgrhmrr had picked a spot where the natural outlines of his body and variations in his coloring appeared to be ordinary continuations of the limb’s natural shape and part of the pattern of sunlight and shade cast by the leaves and branches around him, making him almost impossible to see. There was something else, too. Even knowing that Vllgrhmrr was there, and even though Max was looking right at him, Max had to practically force his brain to accept that he was looking at was a Vaaach warrior and not foliage.
The Hunters of Vermin Page 13
