Space Chronicles: The Last Human War (4 page)

S
maller beasts nuzzled the large animal and made barely audible, low-pitched groans before vanishing back into the foliage. The big hicay continued to stare at the lead Tanarac without blinking. Muffled sounds of brush alarmed the soldiers. They could hear the smaller carnivores pushing through the jungle to flank the soldiers. They also realized there was no way two soldiers could kill four hicays with handheld particle-beam weapons. Despite being powerful side arms, they required a full second to recharge between maximum pulses—more than enough time for a raging hicay to close distance and kill. At best, they could kill two hicays before the remaining animals reached them.

The trackers fanned their weapons
toward the brush sounds as they backed out of the clearing. Kelly’s body simply could not be recovered at this time. They were not even sure if they could survive this threat.

Retracing
their trail, soldiers used the last dim light before night to travel as fast as possible. When they set up camp for the night, they reported to General Tragge. All night, hicays circled their camp, staying just out of sight but making no attempt at stealth.

General Tragge hated being denied
success. Nevertheless, even he knew when it was best to retreat. He ordered his scouts to suspend tracking the female and return at first safe light. His hope now rested on his second scout team.

“
Besides,” the general said as he justified the failure of his first scout team, “the male is the human you really want. He’s the one who attacked your Tasker.”

While General Tragge monitored his trackers, Dr. Hadje’s team collected scientific
samples from the workers’ quarters. They interviewed everyone who knew the Striker Twelve team. No one understood why their fellow humans experienced Runner Madness. Since childhood, Simon had been a model worker, excelling in everything from physics to athletics. Known for obeying rules, Kelly’s record rivaled the best workers. It was shocking that she succumbed to The Run.

Kelly’s tracker team emerged from the jungle on day two, just before the second sun dropped below the horizon. They did not need to brief
the general or Dr. Hadje as their progress had been followed closely by communicator. The general, however, was deeply concerned for his team tracking Simon. Their radio apparently failed early the first day. The last report they received said he was traveling faster than they would ever have imagined possible for a non-military trained person . . . especially a human.

At the end of the third day, the second scout team returned without Simon or his remains. They reported that every time they got close to him, they ran into one or more hunting hicays, slowing their progress. Try as they might, they simply could not catch up with him.

The exhausted team told a harrowing story about an attack by a large number of hicays the prior night. Even Dr. Hadje
found the stories unusual as both scout teams reported pack behavior never before documented in hicays. They were thought to be solitary hunters.

“
It seems like the human lives with hicays,” the lead tracker said. “Every time we got close, the beasts attacked. He must possess the spirit of Vaal-al.”

“Pr
eposterous!” the general rebuked his soldier. “How dare you compare a stinking human to the greatest Tanarac who has ever lived!”

General Tragge knew
well the tale of Vaal-al. It was one of his favorites. Every Tanarac child learned this classic about how a mother hicay’s cub died, so she stole a Tanarac infant from a tent near the woods. She fed and protected the child until he grew into a formidable member of the loose hicay community.

As the fable goes, the child became endowed with incredible strength, and learned to use
natural senses most Tanaracs thought did not exist in their own kind. The hicay-raised boy remained deeply concealed in the safety of the jungle.

Many years passed
when the nation of Tanarac found itself fighting a losing battle with the bloodthirsty Karth Horde invaders. The situation was bleak. Peace loving Tanaracs were forced to the edge of the Central Jungle where their warriors fought valiantly. Remaining Tanarac soldiers formed a final line of defense, their women and children huddled behind them with their backs to the jungle. They were outnumbered ten to one.

Horde soldiers sens
ed victory and advanced into the last open field in front of the waiting Tanaracs when Vaal, the volcano at the center of the jungle, began to rumble. Sounds from deep inside her bowels grew so loud that all eyes on the battlefield turned to watch the belching giant. Ground shook violently, and Vaal’s rage grew until she began ejecting magma and ash high into the smoke-darkened sky. Strangely, massive lava-fireballs rained down, but only on the Karth positions, consuming Horde warriors by the dozen.

The bewildered Karth retreated beyond range of the mo
untain’s fury and watched helplessly as a wall of fire spanned the rise between them and their intended victims. Three days passed before the wrath of Vaal subsided, and the protective wall of fire began to flicker out.

Karth leaders
amassed their forces, anxious to finish the conquest. Prospects of a quick victory emboldened the warriors who taunted their foes as they began marching forward.

Tanarac women and children
cried in terror. Everyone knew, if the enemy won, women would become slave consorts, and male children would be put to the sword. War-weary Tanarac soldiers tightened their lines, resolved to fight to the death.

The Horde
’s field general shook his head in contempt at the inferior Tanarac army. In his mind, they were unworthy of noble deaths. He gave the signal for his infantry to start their attack run. Enemy soldiers raised swords and crossed onto the still warm ground where the wall of fire had burned.

A brilliant light suddenly knifed high into the sky
from inside the edge of the jungle. It radiated with blinding intensity, rivaling even that of the second Tanarac sun. Karth infantrymen stopped their advance, while frightened Tanaracs edged away from the jungle where the strange light originated. A clear path opened from the forest edge nearest the glowing spire all the way to the Karth troops.

Loose ferns
parted at the dark edge to the jungle and a golden chariot emerged. Seven huge hicays, each bound in a harness of jungle vines, pulled the war wagon. The lost Tanarac child, now full grown, held the reigns.

Over the years, the boy’s body transmuted into half-Tanarac, half-hicay.
Unusually dark blue skin contrasted with long waves of golden hair that hung in loose ringlets from his head. Shorter tufts of blond fur covered his bare shoulders and back. His body rippled with muscles far greater in size than those of the best Tanarac athletes. Piercing eyes glistened like polished trill stones, the black gems of death traditionally buried with dead Tanarac spiritualists.

W
heels creaked as the gleaming chariot slowly passed frightened Tanarac families and warriors. The charioteer ignored them. He guided his hicays onto open ground before the Karth warriors and stopped on a small rise half way between opposing forces.

The beast boy made a sweeping visual
scan from one end of the Karth line to the other. Then, with no outward command, his chariot surged directly into the nearest enemy troops. Fangs and claws of seven hicays joined the chariot master’s glistening sword to decimate entire enemy squads with each pass. The chariot easily breached enemy lines, and every Karth warrior who attempted a challenge was shredded by hicay claws or mortally sliced by the driver. Wave after wave of Karth invaders lived up to their reputation as fearless fighters. All died.

The charioteer and his hicays defended Tanaracs with ruthless efficiency, surging back and forth through Horde ranks
and leaving behind scores of dismembered soldiers. Karth arrows failed to penetrate thick fur of the hicays, and the charioteer’s mighty sword proved so fast as to cut arrows out of the air before they could reach his exposed flesh.

Emboldened by their new ally, Tanarac defenders rushed forward to join battle against a rapidly deteriorating Karth army.

By nightfall, the Karth Horde was no more. The world-nation of Tanarac rose from the ashes of that battle.

W
hatever happened to the glowing chariot?

In the final moments of battle, it vanished. Several days
passed when a Tanarac woman said she saw the chariot roll back into the jungle. It was never seen again.

Tanaracs named the boy-beast Vaal-al, meaning son of Vaal, the fire-mountain.

Even in modern times, Tanarac people revere the mountain of Vaal and the hicays of the Central Jungle. Such is their reverence that they made permanent, ancient laws caring for that jungle. It would never be explored or exploited. Its hicays would forever be protected, as long as they remained within their sanctuary. It became a holy place, never to be defiled.

The legend foretold that
Tanarac will someday face a terrible crisis, and Vaal-al’s glowing chariot will rise again to save their race.

General Tragge shook his head in contempt at his tracker’s comparison of Simon, a mere human, to Vaal-al was thoroughly repugnant.
The general scolded his officer for the analogy before issuing a few quick orders about secrecy. They left Quarry 33 abruptly.

“Mark my words, Jix,”
Dr. Hadje said. “General Tragge will use this runner event to press his agenda with the Council of Governors. What can I say to counter him? I don’t know. Regardless of how I couch current events, the general needs only to tell the truth. Indeed, a human attacked one of our people. There is no way to diffuse this bitter reality.”

“
O
w!” Simon cried out. The backs of his hands burned as if scratched by toxic thorns of a pyxt bush.

He pushed out from under the fern and peered into the
twilight looking for water to relieve the stinging. The vague shadow of a short plant sitting on the jungle floor nearby held some promise. Cone-shaped leaves opened upwards, and the base of each leaf widened into a rounded bulge. The young human had seen pictures of such plants and hoped it would hold water. In desperation, he plunged both hands down the throat of one of the larger leaves.

Water!

Things floating on its surface bumped his fingers, but that did not matter. Pain alone drove his action. Relief came quickly while his hands remained immersed in the cool fluid, but each time he pulled them out of the plant, the burning returned. After rinsing repeatedly, burning finally subsided to a tolerable, dull ache.

Simon sat on the ground next to the water-filled plant
and looked around his new home. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw more shades of green than he ever imagined possible.

A few small
water drops clung to the back of Simon’s hand. He instinctively touched them to his lips. Taskers made sure humans had plenty of water, especially on hot days, so he had never experienced real thirst.

R
eturning to the leaf cups that had soothed his burning hands, he pulled open a leaf to see the water inside. Dead insects floated on the surface of muddy brown fluid. A pungent odor, one he did not notice in the rush to find relief for his hands, caused him to hesitate, but growing thirst demanded action.

The young man sipped
some rancid water cupped in his hands. He gagged. Despite needing fluids, he had not yet reached a point where he could overcome natural defenses against such terrible taste and smell.

Water became his
obsession. Tiny drops of water sprinkled down on him from the jungle canopy far above. He tilted his face upward with his mouth open to catch a few of the random drips. As he did, he noticed a dense layer of fog suspended in upper tree limbs. Moisture fell from leaves and branches as water condensed from the mist.

In a few places,
trickles of dew from several leaves combined to form tiny streamlets of pure water, spilling onto the jungle floor. The thirsty young man looked for the largest such rivulet and waited patiently as his mouth filled and cherished each swallow of cool water. The jungle’s newest inhabitant had discovered one of the most important jungle survival secrets.

After
quenching his thirst, Simon leaned against a giant tree to gather his thoughts.

“What was I thinking?”
he chastised himself aloud. “I can’t believe I did this.”

For a fleeting moment, the
idea of finding his way back to the Tasker compound and its safety seemed reasonable, but, then, he cringed at the notion.

He
thought back to childhood classes. One was on the origin of civilizations. Basic essentials drove early cultures, needs that made sense to him in this new world. A crude survival plan formed, one borrowed from those ancient people.

“Water. Foo
d. Shelter,” he said to himself and looked up at the fog-shrouded canopy. “I’ve got water covered. Food . . . I need food.”

He
tasked his memory for food ideas.

There ought
to be plenty to eat in this plant-rich environment,
he thought.

As diffused light from the second sun
began penetrating depths of the jungle, Simon came across a well-worn game trail.

Animals
move between food sources
.

The strong, young boom operator
crawled along the trail under a thick wall of vines hanging down from the decaying trunk of a long-dead hardwood tree. On the other side, he saw the unmistakable six-pedal flower of a parasitic, Sloh-dha plant growing from a crack in the back of an old tree. These plants were widespread on Tanarac and often farmed for their sweet stalks. Leathery skin itself was not edible, but tender pulp inside was almost pure sugar when ripe.

H
ungry drove him to rip a stalk off the plant, tear through its green-and-black striped, protective sheath and bite into the exposed pulp. He winced. Bitterness was nothing like the sweet food he sampled in school.

Thinking
water was readily available, and shelter not a major concern during this mild time of year, food became his obsession. Weakness was setting in.

Despite being s
urrounded by plants, it was difficult to know which ones were edible. He saw vines with odd-looking pods, small bushes covered with brightly colored flowers and short-stalk plants with thick bulbs at their base. He thought back. Basic rules from botany class about identifying edible plants slowly came to him.

Poison fruits have red coloring in their flowers or skin.
He mentally reviewed the rules.
Edible fruits tend to grow on tall bushes or small trees.

As he
pressed his memory, more information surfaced.

Ground
-based fruits are often toxic to ensure their survival. Plants with thorns are usually edible, as they rely on thorns for survival instead of toxins. Yes, it’s coming back.

Simon continued his journey along the game trail
, keeping close watch for anything that might satisfy his growing criterion for edible food.

Morning fog burned off early. Every so often, a bright ray of sunshine miraculously found its way through
thick layers of jungle canopy to appreciative plants below. Most of the larger trees leaned away from the direction of the morning sun as they grew toward the greater sunlight achieved during afternoons. Even when Simon could not see sunlight, leaning tree trunks helped him maintain a constant direction to the east, farther away from captivity.

Hours passed, and
the young man’s pace increased as hunger deepened.

F
amiliar noises came from nearby. It was a family of tree-dwelling Chik Chiks. He enjoyed the antics of these little creatures many times in the quarry’s holo-image zoo. Common to most jungles on Tanarac, they thrived on a diet of fruit—fruit he knew was also edible by humans.

He
parted a veil of tangled vines, looking for the source of the noise. There, in a small clearing, a single Topi tree stood in the middle of a slim beam of sunlight. Its branches bowed nearly to the ground under the weight of ripe fruit.

A
gitated Chik Chiks scampered in circles on the upper branches as the hungry young man approached. One small brown creature charged down from the top of the tree to spit at the human intruder, before scurrying back to safety on higher reaches.

Ignoring protests from the harmless
animals, Simon plucked one of the nearest fruit. Its dark green skin easily tore open exposing dozens of pink and yellow seeds. Each seed, the size of his small fingernail, burst in his mouth, releasing their energy and juice. He swallowed both fluid and pulp, eating fistfuls of sweet seeds at a time.

Driven by hunger, he tore down a branch with a dozen fruit pods and sat on the ground, eating as fast as he could peel
back rinds. Gorging continued until he grew uncomfortably full. The natural sugar-based seeds quickly restored his energy.

“That was good
. Thanks for sharing,” he said and gave a mock salute to angry Chik Chiks.

Simon felt more alive than ever
before. He basked in the sounds, sights and smells of the jungle. Flush with confidence from finding a food supply, he turned his attention to his slowly evolving survival plan.

“What do you fellas think?
” he said to nearby Chik-Chik companions. “I’ve got food and water in this area. Maybe I should build a shelter here and get to know the area. You want me as your neighbor?”

Simon looked around for the most suitable way to build a shelter
when a distant howl, from deep in the jungle, shattered his train of thought.

Hicay!