by Chris Turner
“This is happening everywhere in the galaxy, Lan.”
His face turned beet red. “Screw that. The shark says I’m getting old and they’d have the state put me in a penal institution for mistreating animals. Mistreating animals, can you believe it? If I hadn’t laughed so hard, it might have been funny at the time. I might have even taken them seriously. Slapped a big wad of twenty pages down for me to sign and a big cheque for 400k yols.”
Yul whistled. “That’s a lot of cash. You sign?”
“Course not. Why the hell would I? But that’s when they got mean and ugly. Started threatening my wife, Tira, sabotaging my herd and operation. Tira’s staying with her sister over in Capervale village in the outback, it got so bad. No one would think to find her there. Three dead dengals poisoned just the other day. I sniffed the water they drank and smelled arsenic in the mix. Buggers! Killing innocent animals, and poaching others. I have a fence down, probably lost some stock. It’s disgraceful. That was no accident, Vrean.”
“So, if they can’t buy you out, they’re trying to force you off your land, then out of business?
“Seems the obvious conclusion. Force me to sell, or buy into their shitty deal.”
“Low level bastards.”
“That’s too kind of a description for these low-lifes.”
“Why dengals?”
“Not just dengals. Other animals too. They got a whole pantheon on the go that they sell to Veramax out on Borealis planet: lizards, monkeys, firrits, vorcofs, you name it.”
“What about the local authorities? You try bringing them in?”
“They won’t touch it. Poachers? Bah, small fry. Miles of fence to patrol. No scope in their budget for a mega acreage like mine. Say I should hire a wildlife protection agency. Yeah, right. Like they’re growing on trees. Bigger problems to deal with than a bunch of poachers.”
Yul nodded in understanding. “These sound like developers, not poachers.” He looked away, having second thoughts and bad feelings about the whole venture.
“ Look, Vrean, word is, you’re in the line of work that deals with scumbags like this. Been a friend of your father’s for many years, ever since you’ve been away—serviced my cropping and feeding engines. Sold me decent new equipment.”
Yul hesitated. “Best I can do is look around, Lan, see what I can come up with. But you’ve aroused my sympathy. They’re an interesting creature, these dengals, and don’t deserve that fate, nor should you be browbeaten. I hate shysters muscling in on a man’s livelihood, making profit at the expense of innocents.”
“And you could use the money yourself.”
“That too. You’re my father’s friend. As for fees—”
“You fix my problem, you got yourself 20k yols. 10k yol bonus, if it’s clean and keeps me out of the courts and no follow up with Veramax’s thuggery.”
“That’s not a bad deal.” Yul grinned, gave a satisfied chuckle and a brisk handshake.
“Don’t let me down, Vrean. This could get ugly and I could lose more than a farm and a few million yols if these bastards come down hard on me. They’re heavy players. Not pushovers who’ll go away with a warning or couple of gunshots.”
Yul gave a grim laugh. “No need to worry, Banzari. I’ll come through.”
Banzari bared his teeth. “Okay, just tell me what you need.”
“Just keep your head down and do as I tell you. I’ll need some transpo around the facilities and some familiarization with your operation. Plus intel on the ranch hands and the layout of the ranch. If I can catch them in the act, maybe I can collect enough evidence to nail them. Failing that, there’s always the hard way.” His hand brushed the blaster at his belt.
Banzari gave slow nod. “You can find everything in the utility shed with the dust buggies. Trixie can take you anywhere you want to go.” He peered at Yul. “You ain’t scared of these men? I mean, you’re just one guy against a whole gang of ruffians backed by big money.”
Yul gave an unpleasant sneer. “I never was a momma’s boy myself. Doesn’t pay to be too afraid in this line of work either.”
“Good for you. Guess it don’t.” He laughed, but his mirth was shortlived. “I told you, some animals were snatched away recently. Wouldn’t put it past them to plant a hired hand or take out some protection muscle like you. Other acts of random vandalism on the ranch include the fencing blown away. You saw it.”
“You tell the local police?”
“Told you, they’ll do nothing,” he scoffed. “Too many miles of fence. Bigger problems to deal with than a bunch of poachers.”
“You see any of these men?”
He hissed. “Had some muscly yobos come by the other day, try to rough me up.”
“What exactly did they say?”
“Same old.” His voice hardened in a sneer. “Sell the place, or else. Told them to buzz off.”
Yul gestured. “So, I’m guessing that bruise on your cheek is a gift they left you?”
He growled. “Had me a taser and flare gun for backup, otherwise we might not be having this conversation right now.” He turned away with disgust then headed back to the lodge, throwing up his hands in the air as he muttered dark words. Yul grunted in understanding.
Chapter 3
Yul wandered back to the fence, his mind churning, trying to pull the pieces together. A bunch of professional thugs hired by corporate money. Force a ranch owner to sell his property and livelihood. Direct threats and random animal killings. Could dengals be worth it—with a thousand acres thrown in? Maybe the gene-splicing song and dance was just a story. What other use might they have for the animals? Yul paced, chin in hand.
How to catch them? Maybe just easiest to lie in wait and deal with the goons on the fly, the hard way. But how long before enough muscle men ground his ass to pulp? There was also the way of the camera. Collect enough evidence, show it to the proper authorities. No need for bloodshed or splitting heads. Might be the smarter and safer way to go about this. He had to maintain a low profile.
A few of the herd animals came ambling over to the fence, expecting treats. The tick-tick of high voltage warned him to stay back. The creatures all had long, sloping backs, cloven hooves, tails dragging on the ground. A small herd of about twenty of them wandered about beyond the fence. Three males, the rest females with their multi-gendered young. Yul grabbed a handful of large feed pellets from the wide black bin affixed to the wire fence. He threw them feed through the wire mesh.
“Good boy. Pretty boy.”
An aggressive male butted the others away and snorted, stamping its hooves, lips curled. A row of white blocky teeth, not dissimilar to Kaybra’s, snapped hairs-breadths from his outstretched hand.
Yul stepped back, blinking in amazement.
“Here, you,” bawled a voice behind him. “What’s the idea of feeding them?”
Yul turned to assess the well-built young woman with the husky voice in blue coveralls and floppy straw hat who came barreling out of the barn at him. “You’re here to take care of the criminals? The ones been sabotaging the ranch and animals?”
Yul made no comment.
“Good luck to you.” She thrust a broad hand into the feed box, tossed feed through the fence into a trough. The animals devoured it. The aggressive male seemed to back off, as if by magic.
Yul’s brow rose in a grimace. “Why do you say that?”
“Slippery as eels, those bastards. If I catch any of them, I’ll plug them full of lead.” She dug a hand out of the feed bin and patted the small rifle at her waist.
Yul studied her anew. Not the most attractive woman: a sullen face, square frame, narrow nose and glossy, chestnut-colored hair. His eyes passed over her chunky thighs and back to her heavy jut of jaw and sky blue eyes, which seemed dulled with anger by the present circumstances.
“Don’t feed ’em,” she bawled. “Unless I tell you. You want to make them sick?”
Yul’s brows rose again, as she brought out another handful to feed t
hem.
The large male seemed riled up, as if ready to charge at anything that didn’t please him.
Yul studied its long snout and three bristling horns.
“The iboron plant makes the males edgy and dangerous for riding. They eat it, and it makes them crazy. Does something to their brains. Though not the females. Another sign of the superiority of the females’ genetic make-up.”
Yul smiled wryly. “Why feed them, if they have plenty of sustenance out in the wilds?”
“These here are protein pellets,” she said with a trace of pride. “Don’t need many but makes their pelts glossy. Glossy as shoe shine. Also protects their hides from mange.”
“Sure, if you say so.”
She eyed him through narrow slits, not liking the comment.
A lithe russet-brown shape scuttled at the edge of the trees. It moved head down, swift as a fox. “Damn.” She pulled out her gun and fired off three warning shots at its paws. “Next one of those young cungas comes near here, I’ll draw blood. Teach it a lesson. Scavengers. They harass the dengals and prey on the newborns.”
Yul’s hand went to the back of his neck. She was handy with that gun. No suspect too clean in this sordid affair. Could she have been involved? She had access to the grounds and facilities. Squeaky clean on the outside, but rock hard on the inside.
“You’re Trixie?”
“People call me Trix. Look, the dengals are docile now.”
Yul jerked a thumb at the large, alpha male. “That one looks mean enough.” He squinted at its barrel-like belly, shaggy light purple hide, enormous ears, sharp horns and shiny hooves.
“Vreckin? Well, he used to be the runt of the litter. Got picked on, then grew up fast and furious, bigger than the others. Killed his brother who used to chew on his ears the worst. I wouldn’t go near him, if I were you, especially if he doesn’t cotton to you.”
“What about you? Aren’t you scared of them? You have to tend to them every day, don’t you?”
She chuckled. “Vreckin won’t touch me. I gave him milk while he was a colt growing up.”
Yul nodded, as if nothing could be more natural.
“The mares are better for riding. The males, well, we use them for their fine wool. Good money in dengal coats.”
“Thought this was a nature preserve.”
“Yeah, well, everyone has to eat.” She gave a gravelly chuckle. “The animals pay their way. We’re kind to them and keep these lands protected so they can thrive.”
Yul grunted in acknowledgement.
“I’ll introduce you to the local herd.” Trixie whistled and opened the gates and Yul followed her inside, though his step was more wary than hers. She locked the gate behind her.
“Only approach Vreckin when I’m here—for your own protection. I’m emphasizing it again so you don’t screw up. Give him some feed, he’ll be your friend for a day or two at least.” She plunked some pellets in his hand.
“Good to know.” Yul tossed the victual in the trough.
Those were gone in about ten seconds. Yul worked up enough courage to pat the russet mane of the male with his mechanical hand as it scooped up the pellets from her palm in its squarish teeth. Though part of him wondered if Vreckin would reach up and snap off his hand. Wouldn’t put it past him by the looks of those unreadable, black eyes.
Yul drew inward to melancholy reflection. What fate awaited these majestic animals should the company Veramax have its way? They had just wandered back out and a big bird of prey soared overhead when a massive explosion jarred him out of his skin.
He turned as a shower of blood and guts came spraying his way. Squinting, ducking, he raised an arm to cover his head. Splinters and blood splatter fell all around. One of the wandering pet dengals had started chewing on the package left on the table. What was left of the animal was nothing but a shattered bloody mass, white backbone showing. Clumps of dengal flesh littered the lawn and splattered the nearest side of the lodge.
“Jesus Holy Mary fuck!” Banzari came stumbling up, the front of his jacket blood-smeared.
Yul hissed a feral breath. He crouched, hand on his E1. “I told you about that box, Banzari.”
Banzari stared in shock, his face white as a ghost. “I didn’t think about the animals.”
“Should’ve told you to put that package in a safe place.”
Banzari shook his head in misery. “I raised that dengal from a foal, Yul. I told you, seven years ago.”
Trixie, stopped dead in her tracks, stood mute, an unmoving statue.
“Come on, Yul, Trix, we’re going to have to report this.” Banzari grabbed her arm.
Yul stopped him. “You go, Banzari. I’m going to stay here. Maybe leave Trixie behind so she can show me around.”
He nodded, pawing at his begrimed chest. “Trix you stay here with Yul then. More you two work together, the better. Don’t want to leave this ranch unattended.”
She gave a gobbling sound of acknowledgement.
“Wait, one more thing. Who would inherit should you croak?”
Banzari wiped a smear of blood from his bare arm. “Used to have investors, part owners in the business. Bought them out just before this enterprise picked up. Only have a nephew offworld. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him for years and from what I gather, he’s not interested in the business.”
“So, it’s easy for Veramax to scoop it out from under him?”
“Sure.”
“Poachers, be damned, Banzari. This is an act of vengeance,” grumbled Yul. “You piss anybody off you aren’t telling me about?”
“Just those bastards trying to wrestle away my ranch,” Banzari said with a spurt of anger.
Yul grunted, appeased. “Go, report it then. Do what you need to do.”
“What about this mess?”
“Leave it for the police. Too bad we didn’t have the bomb as evidence.”
Yul played over the scenario in his mind. Police combing the area, bomb experts taking evidence, special officers asking him a bunch of awkward questions. Under no circumstances did he want to be here during interrogation hour.
Banzari gave a raspy sigh. “I gotta go. Snoop around, come up with a way to punish the bastards that did this. That could have been my flesh you’re wiping off your faces.” He staggered to the utility shed, backed out one of the dust buggies and hit the throttle.
Yul watched the old electric-powered dune-buggy take off down the driveway, spinning gravel.
“How far to the last snatch site?” he asked Trixie.
“About half hour by buggy to the west side of the range. It ain’t pretty.”
“Let’s go then. No use waiting around for their next move. I’m gonna need some more info, see firsthand this poaching site, look for evidence and clues.”
She shrugged. “If you want to get back before nightfall, best to leave now.”
They took one of the spare buggies in the shed, a yellow four-wheeler with open sides and steel crossbars curled over the top. Two other vehicles sat parked alongside with mud-caked tires of rough tread. The place smelled of must, mice and old oil spills. Trixie flicked the starter and the electric engine whirred to life without a hitch. She backed it out of the dim space and they bounded down the rough dirt track, following the line of the fence toward the forest. The dengals, ears perked, loped after them on the other side of the fence with curious looks. Their jaws hung open, calling to each other in their wild, neighing language.
Trixie called over her shoulder. “Dengals are more curious than cats. Look! Vreckin, the varmint. He runs right beside us in the front, riles them up so they follow. Not even spooked by the blast. King of the herd.”
“Good for Vreckin,” Yul muttered. “Let’s just hope he’s as friendly as you say.”
“That’ll be up to Vreckin.”
The lodge and outbuildings fell behind them and faded from sight. At last, they lost sight of the dengals too.
The wind whipped by Yul’s ear. Trix opened up the
throttle and they bounced down the rough track, the balloon tires and minimal suspension taking the potholes and humps. Yul gripped the cross bars in a white-knuckled fist. A mischievous smile clung on Trixie’s thick lips.
Chapter 4
Not far into the journey, the engine started running rough, cutting in and out.
“What’s wrong with this thing?” Yul asked.
“Don’t know.” Trixie’s lip quivered. “Hasn’t acted up till lately. Damn Lan! He should’ve had it serviced.”
Shoulda, woulda, coulda.
The engine coughed and died. They rolled to a halt. Yul stepped out right onto an anthill. He stamped his feet free of ants and hopped over to some fallen logs. The tall trees bent above them, boughs swishing in the light breeze. The electric fence lay to their left.
Yul moved to the buggy’s front and lifted the cowling, squinted at the oily engine. “Murphy’s law at work.”
Trixie stared in frustration. “Great timing, having this thing break down.”
“No break down, look.” Yul pointed to a sharp bulge in the battery housing. “Sabotage. Banzari’s friends must have attached a time-release acid.”
“Can we fix it?”
“I doubt it.”
“I’ll call Lan.” She flipped out her handheld. It rang several times. “He’s not answering.”
With the engine dying, Yul had to wonder if Banzari ever made it to the cop shop. “Does your barn have security cameras?”
“What does that have to do with it? There’s surveillance on the utility shed and lodge. We haven’t been checking them lately though.”
“Doesn’t matter. Even if your cameras caught anybody on film, I’m guessing they’d all be wearing masks. How far from here to the ‘poaching’ site?”
Trixie looked at the brooding trees and scratched her cheek. “About half hour’s walk.”
“Then let’s go, we’ve come this far.”
Trixie hesitated. “Nightfall’s coming in an hour. I don’t like to get stuck out here after dusk.”
“Why?”
