Doona Trilogy Omnibus

by neetha Napew

  “Now, don’t that beat all!” Don exclaimed, laughing. “That micro-sized popgun did some good, after all!”

  “Well, gather him up before he slides off your lap!” Kelly ordered Jilamey, reining in next to him and expertly digging her fingers for a firm hold on the slippery scales. With her free hand, she fumbled for a snake bag and passed it over. “I don’t think you remembered one of these. Cram it in and be sure you tie the neck of the sack as tight as possible.

  They’ve been known to wiggle free if they’ve any space.”

  “I did it, didn’t I? I captured one!” Jilamey’s red face was now suffused with incredulous triumph and his voice broke a bit on the “captured.”

  “If you remember to get it in the bag,’ Hrrin called, teeth showing under his feathery brown moustache. Although excitement made his hands shake, Jilamey managed to stuff the limply uncooperative and slithery coils of snake into the bag and securely fastened the tie.

  “Congratulations.

  You’re half-way there!” Hrrin added.

  Still holding the bag, Jilamey looked about him, not certain what to do with his prize. Jan took pity on him and helped him secure it to the saddle on rings embedded in the saddle tree for just such a purpose. Eyes shining, Jilamey galloped to rejoin Team One. Jan followed more sedately, an indulgent grin on her face.

  Just inside the boundaries of his ranch, Wayne sat on his horse, flanked by his wife, Anne, and their eldest son. Nearby, on a pair of nervously curvetting horses, were Wayne’s guests for the Hunt, a couple from the Hrruban home world.

  They were all armed with crossbows with explosive quarrels, ready to deal with any reptiles escaping from the cordon. The younger Boncyk hefted a bazooka on his right shoulder while his horse shifted under him, trying to balance itself against the weight. Wayne posed another problem to the teams: he was a notoriously bad shot. He had a tendency to detonate the ground right in front of a Hunter’s horse more often than the snake it was pursuing. Todd’s horse had been spooked by one of Wayne’s bombs the year before, dumping him in the pigpens, so he kept one wary eye on the stockman as they passed him.

  Kelly could feel the wind shifting as they came up the hill. That was the worst thing that could happen. Instead of a following breeze that swirled the heady snake musk around them, a new stench filled the air, as potent as snake, blindingly putrid as well as sickly sweet.

  “Faugh,’ Kelly said, averting her head and wondering if it would do any good to jerk her scarf over her nose.

  “Oh, no,’ Todd groaned. “Pig air!” Not only pig was in the air but also the delectable aroma of livestock, blown directly from the Boncyk herds and teams into the noses of ravenous snakes.

  In a maneuver as planned as a dress parade, the snakes turned, a great river of rippling, leafpatterned hide across the Hunters’ cordon, rolling uphill toward the farm buildings. With no river, hill, or wood between the snake thoroughfare and the farm, there were no barriers to deflect the snakes’ inexorable approach.

  The moment the pig stink came his way, Todd called for the Sighter crafts to pick up Lures and make a drop near the marsh in an attempt to divert the main bulk of the reptiles. Then he called for any available Beaters and Hunters. The teams spread themselves out across the field to try and contain the flow and regain control. Kelly could hear the screaming farm animals, their cries reaching up the scale to pure panic. They seemed to sense their danger despite the shift of the wind.

  Boars might have stood and faced the reptiles, but not the gentler China and Poland pigs who were milling about their sturdy pens with no refuge from the approaching menaces. Even if the pressure of the terrified animals broke down the pen bars, they hadn’t the speed to outrun snakes. The only hope of saving them was to head the snakes off again, with full firepower if need be, before they reached the pens.

  “Stop them!” Boncyk called, galloping up, waving his crossbow.

  “My pigs!”

  “Damnit, Wayne, you’ve been told year after year to get those pigs out of here before spawning season!” Don snapped.

  “The sows are farrowing this month! I can’t move them when they’re birthing; they’re too set in their ways.”

  “They’re not the only ones,’ Don grumbled under his breath, but Kelly heard him and grinned.

  The stockman and his retinue galloped after Team One, haranguing Todd all the way. Todd had one object in mind: to stand between the threatened sties and the onrush of snakes, firing to turn them away.

  It was unlikely that they could save all the animals, but he meant his team to try.

  The wooden enclosures were too far apart and too big for the Hunters to surround. The team hauled their horses to a halt, giving them a breather as they assessed the best vantage points before the swarm arrived.

  Todd and Hrriss decided that they’d best guard the narrow path between the two barns that lay between the snakes and their prey.

  Bottling them up in that space would make them easier to turn, with some scud bombs to halt them and give the ones behind pause. The older and bigger snakes were smart enough to sense the danger of such tight quarters and turn back to look for easier pickings in the marshes.

  Wayne and his family flanked the edges of the buildings, concentrating on the reptiles who would avoid the main route and try to slip around. Still watching the way the wind blew, Kelly realized that the wind carrying the pigs’ scent was blowing directly toward the worn pathway, and not back into the main mass of reptiles. If the wind shifted, they’d be surrounded in minutes. And goodbye, Boncyk Bacon.

  The defiant screams of the team’s horses echoed off the high walls to either side of them. The slower-moving snakes were nearly there.

  Kelly had never noticed before what a terrifying sound their bellies made, slithering on the dry grass. Oh, a single snake could be silent when it was sneaking up on its prey, but dozens and hundreds of them made the grass hiss beneath them.

  “Don’t worry about tiddlers,’ Todd cried. “It’s the big ones that we need to turn back. They can swallow a sow whole.”

  “Here! I need help here!” Anne Boncyk shouted from behind the grain barn. She galloped into sight, waving an empty crossbow. “There’s a mess of them sneaking around the barn!” Kelly swiveled her head. Two of the infiltrators were lying contentedly in the gravel, engulfing the bodies of their deceased comrades without a care for the crossbow quarrels sticking straight up, but half a dozen others were making straight for the farrowing pens.

  With a sharp command, Hrriss sent his ocelots to Anne’s rescue.

  Gathering their haunches, the spotted cats pounced onto the back of the two largest reptiles, four meters long, and dragged them thrashing like severed air hoses out of the pens.

  With a quick bite behind the flat heads, the cats dispatched their prey and went for two more. The respite gave Anne time to reload both her crossbows.

  A young reptile, only about three meters long, whipped between the team’s horses. Three spears jabbed for it all at once, but all missed their mark.

  “Damn!” groaned Don, and shouted over his shoulder, “Anne, a three-meter coming through!”

  “No, I’ll take it!” Jilamey said. “I gotta get two.

  He wheeled his horse about and pursued the young snake.

  Rolling his eyes at such bravado, Todd gestured for Kelly to follow Landreau. If the boy had been sent to embarrass Doona by getting killed in the Snake Hunt, Todd was determined the plan would fail. Jilamey had managed the first catch, somehow, but anything could happen here, with snakes all too dose to valuable stock.

  At first, the snake was too intent on catching its meal to realize it was being pursued. Jilamey drew his miniature gun and shot at its back. He hit it square, but the low-caliber slug just bounced off the scaly hide. But the snake felt the impact and turned to see what had hit it. Seeing Jilamey bearing down, it slowed a trifle.

  Encouraged, Jilamey galloped at it, trusty quarterstaff poised above his head. “Yeee-hah
!” he yelled, bringing the long stick down on the snake.

  It was a good, solid hit. The snake stopped dead and compressed itself into a hurt knot. Jilamey had learned a lesson during his previous misadventure.

  Before the snake could get a coil about the staff, he discarded it and reached for the crossbow.

  He never got a chance to use it. The snake sprang around the horse’s leg, lashing out with its tail to encircle a hind leg and bring the animal, and rider, down. The horse, instinctively lashing out behind, then reared and stumbled, falling across a young Mommy Snake which had broken through the cordon. The Mommy was stunned and the tiddler got mashed. Todd and Gypsy came round the corner, chasing the Mommy, Todd with his crossbow cocked. If Jilamey fell now, the Mommy would take him in one gulp.

  But Jilamey’s mount was an old campaigner, and once he felt his legs free, he danced backward as fast as he was able until he was stopped by the rails of the sty, where once again he reared, striking out with his front legs. The Mommy reared up, too, just as Jilamey, roanng commands at the rearing horse, slid off its rump, over the rails and straight into the sty, landing with a splat on his back in the muck.

  “Augh!” the youth cried, flailing his arms and legs. “Help me! I can’t get up!” Jilamey couldn’t see the danger he was still in, with the tiddler rousing from its mauling, and the Mommy equally interested in this convenient quarry. Todd shot a defensive charge under the Mommy’s tail: pain and noise alarmed it enough to divert its path so that it swerved into the tiddler. A second explosive burst in front of them, and both shot away, Todd in pursuit.

  Trying very hard not to laugh, Kelly swung off Calypso and, keeping a good hold on the reins, reached through the fence rails into the pen. It took an effort, but she got the young man to his unsteady feet and guided him back onto solid ground.

  “You’re out of the race, Master Landreau,’ Kelly said, trying not to take a deep breath. The sour miasma of pig excrement made her gag.

  Calypso kept backing away from the stench, pulling Kelly’s arm nearly out of the socket. “Unless you can clean up real quick someplace.” As Jilamey, disgust and horror contorting his features, tried to scrape muck off his body, Kelly managed to catch his horse and then had trouble getting the horse to approach its erstwhile rider.

  “My snake? My second snake? What happened to it?” And to Kelly’s surprise, he started to run back to the place of his near demise, darting about, looking for the reptile.

  “That one’s long gone, Jilamey.”

  “But what’ll I do?” Jilamey looked so pathetic that Kelly nearly laughed aloud.

  “What we do is get you to the nearest blind and check you for cuts. You don’t want muck-infected wounds, I assure you.

  “But I’ve got to get the second one, Jilamey insisted.

  “Like that?” He tried to approach his horse, who kept backing away snorting.

  “It’s not far to the nearest blind, Jilamey. We’ll clean you up and maybe then the horse’ll let you on him.”

  “But they’re all going that way!” he said, dazedly looking back at the melee in the Boncyk yard.

  More riders were reinforcing Team One by that time, and the pigsties were well cordoned off from the snakes. “I must have my second snake.” “You’re lucky you got one!” she said, beginning to lose patience. “And we’ve got to clean you up.

  Then at least you can ride back to town.” The prospect of walking that far clearly won his attention. So, while Kelly on Calypso led his horse, they made their way to the nearest snake blind, which was not far away, but back in the woods away from the Boncyk farmyard. As she led him, she hoped that his stench would not entice a tiddler or Mommy to investigate his delightfulness. On the way, they met the backup riders who were going out to help Todd.

  “He took a fall,’ Kelly said, over and over again, as her friends threw her puzzled glances. “Good hunting! Good hunting!” Wish I could finish it with you, she thought. Nerd-sitting is such a nuisance.

  Having to sit a Landreau was close to insult in her lexicon.

  Once the four spectators inside the tiny building got a whiff of Jilamey, there was no way he would be given room. Not even the heavily scented hunting box could overcome the odor clinging to the young man.

  There was, however, a barrel of rainwater just outside and it was the will of the many that Jilamey might have use of all of it. As there was no window on that side of the blind, he went outside and stripped off his sodden clothing.

  When he was safely inside the barrel, Kelly took a shovel and scooped up the stinking remains of the once sporty outfit. She left the knee boots because her brother knew how to neutralize the odor on leather. Spare clothes were donated and a sort of a towel, and pretty soon, Jilamey, smelling considerably more like a Human, was allowed back into the blind.

  Then Kelly could check for wounds. Once the muck had been scraped off, she found several.

  Nothing major, but scrapes, one shallow cut, and many bruises, the worst of which blossomed on his left cheek and ear. If it hadn’t been for the regulation helmet, he might have crushed his skull on the fence post.

  “I have never had anything like that happen to me in my life,’ Jilamey said, over and over, as she dabbed at his injuries with disinfectant and rubbed a styptic to stop the bleeding. “I thought that snake was going to eat me!”

  “You were a very handy morsel,’ Kelly replied, carefully smearing vrrela from her medical kit on the scrapes.

  She reached for one of the flasks at her belt. “But Todd doesn’t allow snakes to feed on his team members. Have a drink of this.” Jilamey uncorked the mlada and took a tentative sip. He followed that taste with a more enthusiastic tot and sighed happily as the warmth of the liquor hit.

  “Not too much,’ Kelly warned him, taking the flask away and recorking it. “It’s strong.”

  “Strong is what I need right now,’ he pleaded.

  “One more?”

  “Well . .” Kelly studied him and decided what he’d been through was worth one more drink.

  His bruises would probably hurt more as they developed.

  “All right,’ she said, pouring him another.

  “Todd saved my life,’ Jilamey remarked thoughtfully. He sat up on the edge of that remark and winced, settling back again in the low chair. “My uncle, the Admiral, has’always held a poor opinion of the Reeve family, though he never says why.

  Even when I asked him after I knew I was going on this Hunt. I shall tell him how wrong he is. If he had seen Todd today, he’d be ever, ever so impressed.”

  “Todd was only doing his duty as team leader, Kelly said carefully. She was amused as Jilamey had regained his affected manner of speech as soon as he was comfortable again. “But he is quite an impressive person.”

  “I agree!” Jilamey said, both hands clutching the small hammered metal cup. “It was most daring of him to sweep down like that, right in the face of the G-what did you call it?” Kelly smiled to herself. Undoubtedly he would regale his friends endlessly about his Snake Hunt.

  He might even tell the truth. It certainly wouldn’t hurt Todd’s reputation to have the story go around.

  “GBMS. It stands for Great Big Mommy Snake.

  Nearly all of the big ones that come out for spawning are the females.”

  “And he drove them both off lust before they could reach me.

  He saved my life. I admire him ever so. I know better than to believe

  everything my uncle has been saying about his family. He 5

  wrong when he says that Reeve is out of his element here, and should be returned home for his own good. If the father is at all like the son, well, I’ve never seen anyone better suited to a wild venue.” The young man chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Certainly I’m not. I know I’ll only play at it the odd weekend or two.” He raised his eyebrows entreatingly and extended the cup toward Kelly. She had been listening intently ever since Jilamey had mentioned his uncle.

  “Oh, well, o
ne more won’t hurt you,’ she said, pretending reluctance, but eager to hear more. She poured the cup full. “It’s all organic, you know.” Any gossip about the great Landreau interested all Doonans personally. Having just returned from Earth, she was more aware than most of the tensions surrounding the upcoming Treaty Renewal, and the disagreement between the factions pro and con. “So what did your uncle think of you coming here for the Snake Hunt, Jilamey?”

  CHAPTER 2

  The WRIThING, SQUIRMING CARGO WAS hauled back triumphantly to the center of the Human settlement. Hunters who had successfully passed their rite of passage with the capture of two snakes were congratulated and toasted with splashes of mlada, some of them directed internally. With understandable satisfaction, Todd saw the two Hrrubans who had endangered Hrriss ride back into the square, hunched over their saddlebows in pain. They had the telltale swellings or rroamal inflammation under the fur on their arms and legs. At some point on their wild ride they had passed through trees bearing the toxic vines.

  Because the inflammation wasn’t far advanced, a quick application of vrrela would swiftly cure the agony, but Todd couldn’t help but think of their suffering as a measure of justice.

  The heavenly smell of cooking greeted them all.

  Meat was turning on spits in roasting pits, which were also filled with freshly picked corn on the cob and newly dug potatoes. The combined aromas made the returning Hunters half frantic with hunger.

  “Not a bite until you clean up!” Pat Reeve shouted at her dust-covered son. Todd grinned and pointed to the carcasses of the small snakes thrown across the rump of his horse. She returned the grin and held up her joined hands over her head as a gesture of victory. The snakes’ meat would be thrown into a savory stew to simmer with root vegetables and fresh herbs. Some of the traditions of Snake Hunt were a lot more delicious than others.

  “Where’s Mrrva?” Todd called back over the clamor. “Hrriss got his leg squeezed by a Mommy Snake.” Pat’s eyes widened in concern.