AmerIndian 2192

by J. Scott Garibay

CHAPTER 09

  On the surface of Naanac in the Canes Venatici Supercluster, twenty-five million light years from Earth, Wovoka stood motionless as the wind whipped his thin coat around his legs. His three pack brothers climbed carefully over the rock ledge behind him and struggled to their feet, fighting the gales that lashed about the top of the mountain. A thick mist fell steadily and the stone they stood on was slick.

  Seven hundred meters separated Wovoka's pack from the Trighter. The ascent had not been easy and even the magnificent view spanning hundreds of kilometers in all directions did little to lift the men's spirits.

  The entry run onto Naanac had gone exactly as Kill Spotted Horse had described it. The drones worked perfectly but even now, six hours after the Trighter had touched down on the damp surface of Naanac, Rowan atmosphere fighters streaked low across the jungle tops looking for the intruders.

  “Zuni op data says the weather is usually like this.” Wolf Plume had to lean close to Wovoka to be heard over the blustery weather. “Wet and windy, ten months out of the year. But the temperature stays moderate, no extreme heat or cold. Swampy on the ground, due to all the rain.”

  Wovoka did not reply. He studied the view carefully. They stood on the summit of a small mountain, one in a long range of larger mountains, overlooking Cartel Base Nurai, Rowan's research facility on Naanac. Thirty-five kilometers from where they watched, and far below, massive illuminator rigs mounted around Cartel Base Nurai made the structure visible.

  The base was the only man-made thing in view. As far as Wovoka could see the planet's terrain was covered in dense, grey foliage. When the pack landed two kilometers from the mountain he had noticed the compact grey moss that shrouded nearly everything. The trees, which stood from ten to thirty meters tall, had the same grey color. The leaves of the trees were one to three meters wide. From his vantage point on top of the mountain, Wovoka could now see small lakes, five to ten kilometers apart from each other.

  Overall, Naanac left Wovoka with an ominous impression of a planet rich with life and yet utterly dank and empty.

  “Give me the scope from the rail gun.” Wovoka yelled the order over the wind to the pack's sniper, Slow Turtle.

  Slow Turtle took off his pack and placed it on the ground gently. “What's got you so locked, Wovoka? Let's scoop up some Naanacian bunnies, birds and bugs and get rolling.” He unclipped the rifle strap and removed the sight, “The sooner we are off this mud ball the better.”

  Wovoka took the sight, squatted and motioned for his men to move in around him.

  “Your heart is weak today, Slow Turtle. Is a little cold and rain enough to soften your warrior spirit?” Wovoka smiled, poking at Slow Turtle's chest. “All right, Slow Turtle has a point. Let's get to work.” Wovoka put one knee down on the slick stone, resting his arms on his upright knee. “Six hours since footfall. That gives us thirty hours before the chunnel is impassable.”

  Wovoka opened his thin coat and snapped the rifle sight into a holding latch on his armor breastplate for later use. “I want you to gather as many Naanacian animals as is safely possible. Obviously, avoid taking any babies or wounded or sick animals. Try to think like a Diegueño as you work. Any data you can collect that would fit within the scope of a standard eco-scan will be helpful. Wolf Plume, monitor Cartel Base Nurai and the Trighter as you work. Cavaho, I want you to focus on getting a larger predator type creature. Split up for eighteen hours, then rendezvous back at the Trighter at exactly 0200 hr, tonight.”

  Cavaho was throwing a line down below to check the north face of the mountain before Wovoka finished. Wolf Plume and Slow Turtle steeled themselves for eighteen hours of hard work.

  A twenty-centimeter, triangular double-edge blade slid from Wovoka's armored wrist guard. He cut a thick piece of pemmican from his ration and chewed vigorously. He had collected a few small reptile specimens during his fourteen hours of work. He would eat and catch an hours rest before heading back to the Trighter.

  Wovoka took pride in working harder than he worked any of his men. His father, Stone Rain, had passed down this leadership philosophy.

  Collecting animals on the mountain was difficult work in the steady mist of rain. The mist had been constant since Wovoka's pack, Jade Dagger, had landed on Naanac. The rain showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. It was not cold enough to use the personal heaters inside his armor to keep his fatigues dry and Wovoka had to stop every other hour to wring out his sopping clothes and redress.

  After finishing his daily ration, Wovoka set up a makeshift shelter against the mountain. The shelter consisted of one waterproof sheet, staked securely into the mountain wall. The sheet created a slope to carry off the water. Under the shelter, he made himself as comfortable as possible against the rock.

  Thinking back on the day, Wovoka tried again to answer the question haunting him. What was so special about this planet? Naanac was the single most unimpressive inhabitable planet he had ever seen. Other than the unusual animals of particular interest to the Diegueño there was little else of value. Wovoka felt much like Slow Turtle and Wolf Plume. Naanac was about as appealing as a midnight guard stint after a twelve hour march. The answer eluded him.

  An hour later Wovoka awoke to the beeping of his field slate and broke camp. He climbed to a new ledge, pulled the slate out of his jacket and set it in tracking mode. The omni-directional tracker took only a few seconds to pinpoint the locations of his men. Wolf-Plume was on the other side of the mountain eight hundred meters down and to the west. Slow Turtle was three hundred horizontal meters from Wovoka's position. Cavaho was six hundred meters down and two hundred meters east of Wovoka's position. Their positions told Wovoka his men were executing his orders despite any second thoughts they might have.

  Forcing himself to put aside the pervasive question of his sleep, Wovoka freed his mind for the work ahead.

  Preparing to descend the mountain, Wovoka readied his equipment; a drill grappling hook, two hundred meters of two thousand kilogram test plasti-line and a motor saddle. Thirty meters to his right and eighty meters below was a wide, flat ledge, a perfect platform to finish his last few survey calculations.

  Wovoka clicked on the drill grappling hook and held it as he climbed two meters above the small ledge on which he had been standing. Once safely above, he dropped the drill grappler to the ledge below. The drill grappler whirred and skittered across the ledge sending out short quick sensing beams, searching for a solid hold. The drill grappler shot out three tempered steel prongs, trailing ultra-thin steel lines. Each prong easily cut five centimeters into the rock floor creating a strong anchor to hold Wovoka's climbing line.

  Wovoka clipped the plasti-line to the coupler on the drill grappler, and yanked hard on the line. It held. The plasti-line was translucent red, only half a centimeter thick and weighed next to nothing. The two hundred meters of plasti-line Wovoka carried was standard issue for AC Infiltrators.

  The motor saddle looked very much like a dark green adult diaper, except for an eight by eight centimeter box on the front top of the waistband. The box contained a small but powerful motor to pull or let out the thin plasti-line. The plasti-line was slowly let out of a clear plastic pouch, which ran around the waistband of the saddle. All together the drill grappler, the plasti-line and motor saddle were an efficient climbing system.

  It had taken Wovoka four weeks to master the use of the unit early in his training as an Apache mercenary. Let out too much slack and find yourself brutally slammed against the cliff face you were climbing. Pull in too fast and the rig would jerk you up side down.

  Wovoka slipped down the mountain face with a grace that eluded many experienced climbers. In moments he repelled half the forty meters he needed to descend to reach the next point on his geological survey. He stopped for a moment to give his muscles a chance to rest.

  His legs stretched out before him against the mountain, he leaned at a steep angle. Wovoka closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sig
h as he wiped moisture from his face with a gloved hand.

  Tek, tek, tek. Tek, tak, tak. Tek, tek, tek.

  Wovoka could not remember the last time he had been frightened. He had come close to death many times since he began active service as an Apache mercenary at the age of sixteen; twelve years ago. But as the he slowly looked over his shoulder, he was startled.

  A six legged insect with a body a meter wide tek, tek tekked its way along the mountain four meters below Wovoka. Its legs spread nearly three meters out from its body, each leg ending in a wickedly sharp, slightly curved claw. The creature had hooked itself into small crevices on the mountain face. The thing's body was a dark reddish-black and its hind section looked fat with curious bulges. Wovoka guessed the creature might be pregnant. Unlike any insects he had ever seen, however, the thing was covered with short hair.

  Wovoka's footing held on the slick black stone of the mountain. The massive insect-thing suddenly turned its head, its four dark eyes meeting Wovoka's, locking his gaze.

  Wovoka was glad he had not made any sudden movements. The creature could easily have closed the four meters between them for an attack. He did not break eye contact with the thing, but as the first seconds of shock passed he reached for the Sledge Raider at his side.

  The creature moved its large head from side to side erratically, assessing Wovoka's threat. After five long seconds, the creature clacked the four mighty pincers under its eyes and let out a low chitter. It tek, tek, tekked one of its forward claws at Wovoka as a final warning and turned away to continue toward its target.

  Wovoka knew exactly what the creature had meant by its warning and he had no intention of ignoring the insect-thing's wish for him to leave it alone. He relaxed the slightest bit and undid the saddle-lock on the plasti-line. Once he readied himself to move he turned again to look over his shoulder at the insect-thing.

  The creature, now oddly appearing larger to Wovoka, despite the fact that it was farther away, moved incredibly fast over the wet stone of the mountain. The incline of the mountain, at least 120 degrees seemed to have no effect on the movement of the creature. In only the few seconds it had taken Wovoka to switch off the plasti-line lock, the thing had covered a surprising distance.

  And then Wovoka saw what the creature was heading toward. Just before the creature was a nest of twigs and brambles, set in a lightly shadowed crag of the mountain. All shadows on Naanac were slight because of the grey cloud canopy that hung constantly in the sky screening the planet's sunlight.

  Wovoka had read how Earth birds made open nests in trees, nests shaped like bowls. This nest was more extensive, built to protect its dweller from all directions. The nest was built more like a spherical cage, with small openings here and there.

  Wovoka could just make out a flash of blue underneath all of the nest's protective branches and twigs. After pulling down his comp set and increasing visual magnification Wovoka saw bright luxuriant blue feathers, confirming the prey hidden beneath the brambles was a Naanacian Creose.

  Wovoka watched silently. The insect-thing was about to eat the bird. Leaning at a steep angle against slick mountain stone, Wovoka continued to watch intently as the insect-thing made its way toward the brambled nest cage.

  The insect-thing was now a meter from the nest. With blinding speed it thrust out one of its clawed legs, raking at the brambles to expose its prey. Wovoka's eyes widened as he watched the bird move with equal speed to bite the leg that attacked its nest. Surprisingly, the brambles did not snap under the great strength of the creature's clawed leg. Instead the brambles exhibited resilience, stretching and bending away from the thing's claw, successfully protecting the bird.

  The insect-thing chittered and snapped its pincers in rage at the Naanacian bird. The Creose bit at the invader's claw as it continued to tear at the elastic twigs and branches of the nest. After four more swipes, the insect-thing backed away from the nest and zigzagged its head, tekking in frustration.

  As Wovoka leaned back on the rope and Naanac's rain covered his face he suddenly saw with a clarity he had never before experienced.

  Wovoka let Naanac show him its secret.

  The slick stone did not impede the movement of the creature. It stood on slanted stone, tek, tek, tekking impatiently. Only a few seconds were needed for the creature to recoup its nerve for a second assault on the nest and its prey.

  Moving in a broken pattern, the creature closed on the bird. Instead of stopping at a safe distance to tear at the nest with one or two of its legs, the creature charged at the nest, screeing its anger into the moist air. The insect-thing's shriek echoed off the mountain, as prey and predator readied for the assault.

  Wovoka concentrated on the motion around the nest. Claw legs locked onto the mountain, the creature was now directly on top of the nest, virtually covering it with its bulbous mid-section.

  The bird was fluttering its wings furiously inside the nest and vying for a position to strike at the insect-thing.

  With pincers powerful enough to cut through bone, the insect-thing ripped twice at the nest, tearing a large hole in the branches, exposing the bird.

  And then the bird struck.

  The Creose dodged over and up, just out of reach of the grinding pincers, and with a jab of its beak plucked one of the four insect-thing’s eyes, whole, from its head.

  Wovoka saw the ugly results of the beautiful bird's attack.

  The insect-thing let out a scree of agony as its forward legs skittered out of their holds. The pain had loosened its grip on the mountain for a fraction of a second, enough to send the creature into a frantic attempt to secure itself. It's frenzied attempt only served to dislodge its other holds on the mountain. Tumbling down the mountainside, thick yellow fluid trailed after it in long, wet strings from the creature's eye socket.

  The insect-thing caught itself after falling twenty meters. Two of its legs had been snapped off in the fall. The same thick, yellow fluid glopped from its body to the ground below. Its pincers slowly closed together as it bore the pain that shot through it. Looking up slowly at the bird, and then Wovoka, the creature chittered softly in defeat. It turned and made its way down the mountain cautiously, painfully.

  Stunned by the speed of the battle he had just witnessed, Wovoka continued to stare as the bird simply fluttered its wings gently and settled again in the battered nest. The bird began to return the brambles carefully back to where they had been.

  At that moment Wovoka realized exactly why he had been brought to Naanac. At that moment Wovoka saw what he was meant to see.

  And he knew.

  Wovoka knew that what he had just watched would change his life. It would change the destiny of the AmerIndian Confederacy and the future of this wet, desolate planet. Wovoka put a name to what he saw in the brambles of the bird's nest.

  The Free Mantle.