Exodus: Tales of The Empire: Book 2: Beasts of the Frontier. (8 page)

“Jubil had his
augmented leading the way too, and they still got caught.”

“Don’t worry,”
said Jack, a smile stretching his face.  “They’ve never run into anyone like
me.”

“Just be
cautious.  We’ve already lost enough people.”

“Still want him
alive?”

“I don’t care. 
Bring me his head if that’s all you can get.”

The com
terminated, and Jack looked back at the people following him.  Two were in
combat armor, which was probably proof against anything this planet might throw
against them,  The other three were in hunting skinsuits, which might protect
them, but, then again, might not.

The trail led to
a small footbridge made of metal alloys that linked to another wooded island. 
Jack looked closely at the water and didn’t see anything, so he walked across
on soft feet.  After looking over the other side he waved his people forward. 
First came one of the men in combat armor, his footsteps echoing over the
water.  The next was one of the men in hunting garb, looking nervously at the
water on the east side of the bridge.

He never saw the
giant carnotrope that rocketed out of the water and hit him at head and
shoulders with a wide open mouth.  In the blink of an eye the giant predator,
carrying the man in his jaws, splashed into the water and was gone.  Three
particle beams struck the water, raising steam and splashes.

“Cease fire,”
yelled Jack, staring at the water.  There was no way the mercenary was still
alive, not trapped in jaws like that.  “Everyone else.  Over here, quickly.”

One of the men
hesitated, and Jack cursed under his breath, waving the man forward.  He man
shook his head for a moment, then hurried across, breathing out a sigh of
relief when he reached the other side.

“Come on,” said
Jack, turning back to the path and moving quietly away.  “We have a fucking job
to do.”

*     *     *

Shit,
thought
Matthew as he approached the nesting area.  Giant carnotropes were always
dangerous, wherever they were encountered.  Their nesting areas were particular
hazardous.  Scores of adult ‘tropes, females laying and caring for eggs,
dominant males guarding the area.  All hidden in the thick foliage in order to
protect the eggs from aerial predators.

He had two
choices.  He could go around the nesting area, and hope that his hunters still
stumbled into it.  Or he could go through the nesting area and depend on the
stinkweed to keep the adult ‘tropes away.  That was the best bet for hitting
the hunters hard.

Taking a deep
breath, Matthew walked ahead, trying to make as little noise as possible.  The
carnotropes were mostly silent as well, though a few snuffled loudly as the
odor of the stinkweed hit them.  The ‘tropes really hated the smell, and most
times stayed well away.  Since this was a nesting area, and at least one big male
thrust his head out of the brush to see why the despised weed was in their
home.

Matthew froze as
the huge head came into view.  The ‘trope sniffed, drawing in great draughts of
air.  He localized the source of the odor, and his eyes locked onto the still
form of the human.  Matthew didn’t move a muscle.  He depended on the
nearsightedness of the great predators, and prayed that the male wouldn’t
shuffle out for a closer investigation.  With a final sniff the great beast
shuffled back instead, disappearing into the foliage.

Letting out the
breath he had been holding in, Matthew walked softly out of the nesting area,
making sure that on each step he ground a foot into the soil, leaving a trail. 
If the people following him had been Swampers, they wouldn’t have fallen for
this trap.  But they weren’t Swampers.

*     *     *

“He must be
getting tired,” said the Scout, stopping for a moment.

“Why do you say
that?” asked Claude Deveroix, closing up with the scout.  This thing was not
going the way he expected.  Two of his teams had already been hit, once cut
down to half its strength.  And they had not only not caught sight of their
target, they had not come close to hurting any of the people who were helping
him.  In the Enforcer’s experience, things like this did not happen.  They were
the Crime Lords, the masters.  Ordinary people were their prey, not the other
way around.

“Because he left
tracks through this part.”

“You sure?” he
asked the augmented, a former Naval Commando.

“What else could
be going on?” said the Scout.

Dammit
,
thought the Chief Enforcer. 
I should have brought Jack along, or gone with
him.
  Jack Duval was not just a member of the syndicate, he was ex-Force
Recon, and so would have more experience operating in wilderness settings.

The path had a
strange look to it, wider than the one they had followed to this point, as if
something really big had crashed repeatedly down the trail.  He wasn’t sure
what kind of creatures lived in this place, except for the ‘tropes.  Were there
large herbivores here?  And were they any less dangerous for being plant
eaters?

“Every second we
waste, Mr. Deveroix, the little shit is getting further away.”

“OK.  Then let’s
get him.”

Deveroix still
had a bad feeling about this whole thing.  He was a city boy, coming from a
core world.  He had only come here because it offered an opportunity to move up
in the organization.  Even though it was a frontier world, it was still a step
up from local enforcer to the chief enforcer of an entire planet. 
It’s just
all of this fucking swamp, this jungle, creeping me out.

The Scout moved
ahead, one of the men in combat armor following close behind, then one of his
regular sergeants, Francois, wearing a civilian hunting rig.   Deveroix was
about to step into line, directly in the middle of the formation.  He stopped
in his tracks as loud hissing rose to both sides of the path, followed by a
grunting roar.  Death then came rocketing from both sides of the path.

Francois was the
first to die, as four tons of carnivore came out of the brush with a hopping
leap, jaws open.  When the jaws closed they crunched through the chest and back
of the man. His mouth opened in a soundless scream, and he was jerked out of
sight as the giant carnotrope pulled back into the brush.

The man in the
combat armor fared slightly better, in that he survived for a little while. 
The jaws of his ‘trope closed on his helmet and shoulders, and the man
frantically pounded his gauntleted fists on the head of the creature.  The
‘trope, this one a mature female, opened and closed its jaws, trying to bite
through the armor without luck.   So it did what instinct to it to do with any
prey that didn’t succumb. Gripping the man in jaws and front claws, it backed
through the brush and into the stream that flowed beyond.  Pulling the man
underwater, it wedged him between a couple of fallen logs.  There the prey
could die over time, and the predator could later enjoy a tender meal.

The Scout dodged
out of the way of the first carnivore, his superior reflexes coming to his aid.
 Unfortunately, he moved right into the path of the second, which clamped down
on his waist and shook him like terrier shaking a rat.   The Scout struck the
armored head of the amphibian with both of his hands.  They were blows that
would have killed or crippled a human, and did almost nothing to the ‘trope. 
The dagger like teeth slice through the skin suit and into the flesh below,
meeting in the middle and severing the spine in the process.

Deveroix aimed
and fired his particle beam rifle at the beast that was tearing apart his
scout.  The beam burned through the armored hide of the creature with a flash
of steam.  The creature opened its mouth in a loud, pain filled roar, throwing
the body of the Scout away into the brush.  From the look of the man, he was
dead, and his injuries were so severe that there was no way he could be brought
back with what the mobsters had on hand.  The creature looked around as
Deveroix continued to sweep the beam into its body, its eyes finally locking on
the Enforcer and taking a hop forward.  It moved about ten meters a hop, a
terrifyingly rapid advance.  Deveroix kept his beam on the creature, his mind
screaming for him to run, and sure that turning his back and fleeing would only
lead to his death.

The carnotrope
gathered its four hind legs underneath, ready for the next leap, the one that
would land it on top of the man.  Before it could complete the movement the
light went out of its eyes and it fell face forward onto the ground.

“Damn,” shouted
one of the other men.

Deveroix shook
his head.  His team had consisted of seven people, and within seconds the
wildlife of this planet had killed almost half of the group.  If it had done
that much to his team, before he had even contacted the target, he could only
imagine what would happen to them when they had spent an entire day out here.

“Jack.  Jubil. 
Come in,” he called through the com.  “I want you and your people here with
me.”

“What’s up?”
asked Jack, who had only lost one man on his team.  “Are you sure you don’t
want us to continue to track our targets?”

“I want us to
consolidate so these assholes can’t hurt us as badly.”

“What people?”
asked Jack.  “We had one man taken by a beast.”

“They killed
three of mine, Jack,” said Jubil.  “I’ll feel much better with more guns behind
me.”

“Contact your
transports and get your asses here as fast as possible.  No arguments. 
Deveroix out.”

“Let’s back up
from here, people,” he told the rest of his team.  “We’ll find a secure
location and fort up until the others get here.”

I am not leaving
here until I have that boy’s head.  And the heads of everyone in his family.

*     *      *

“They’re not
coming in together,” reported Tommy over the com.  The family was using
military grade communications, the encrypted transmissions sent by tight beam
to the drones they had orbiting high up in the air, then directly down to the
other com sets.  It was as foolproof a way of communicating without being
intercepted as the Empire could come up with.  Not completely foolproof, but
anyone intercepting the encrypted signal wasn’t likely to know who or what was
transmitting.

“Do the best you
can, nephew,” said Timothy, himself watching the clearing where the aircars
were heading.  One was already on the ground, the one that had brought the big
boss and his team.  One more was on approach, while the other was hovering a
kilometers away.  They might not know something was waiting for them on the
ground, but they weren’t taking any chances.

The aircar on
approach circled the clearing a few times, its fans a high pitched whine in the
sky.   The side doors were open, and some of the passengers were looking out
with rifles pointed at the jungle.  The same was true of the third car.

“Tommy,” said
Timothy into the com.  “On my command, light ‘em.”

“Roger,” replied
Tommy.

Timothy looked
at the pair of large trees on the north side of the clearing, near oaks.  They
looked a lot like Earth oak trees, with the exception of their size.  They
stood at least forty meters tall, and each had almost a hundred meter spread. 
And normally only one kind of creature nested in them, something that needed a
tree that size.  He could see movement in the trees, enough to let him know
that they were nesting there.

The first aircar
came down, barely touching its landing skids to the ground, then disembarking
its troops.  Timothy swore as he counted five of them.  That meant the other
car had the half team. 
Well, too late to worry about that now
, he
thought, watching as the one aircar left the ground while the other made its
approach.  That part was as he hoped.  The boss must have been impatient,
calling for his people to hurry up, get on the ground, and get to him.

The cars were
just about even with each other, passing by forty meters above the ground, when
Timothy gave the signal to his nephew, at the same time triggering the hasty
charges he had planted near the two huge trees.  The charges exploded with a
loud boom, sending up smoke.  A second later the rockets that had been built
within the charges took off, screaming through the air, trailing smoke and
sparks.  At a height of fifty meters they exploded, filling the air with more
smoke, sparks and noise.  That had the desired effect, and scores of large
flyers left each tree, flapping away in panic.

The creatures
were among the largest aerial hunters on the low gravity, high atmospheric
density planet.  They hunted most of the mid-sized and smaller ground dwellers,
and all of the other flyers over the Swamp.  The largest had wingspans of over
sixteen meters, the smallest ten.  All were screeching out of their toothed
mouths, arching their long necks.  They were too panicked to pay much attention
to the aircars.

Tommy set off
his set of devices near another stand of the great trees, sending more of the
creatures into the air.  Over a hundred of them headed into the paths of the
aircars, banging their heavy bodies into the aerial vehicles.  The pilots did
what most pilots would, frantically trying to avoid collisions with large
objects in the air.  And they did just what Timothy had hoped, running into
each other and falling in an arc from the sky, out of the Swamper’s sight.

“Where are they,
Tommy?” asked Timothy over the com.  If they came down in a soft landing, the
men aboard might still be able to join their companions, not the outcome he was
looking for.

“They’re sitting
in a nice deep patch of swamp right now, both slowly sinking.”

“What about the
passengers?”

“Oh, they’re
trying to get out, right enough.  And the greeting committee is swimming out to
them.”

Timothy sat back
for a moment, letting his breath out. 
We won’t have to worry about those
bastards.
  He closed his eyes for a moment, only a moment, then opened them
to look back at the clearing, where five men with rifles were moving out,
weapons at the ready. 
No rest for the wicked
, he thought, getting to
his feet and cat footing it into the jungle.  The poor fools probably still
thought they were the hunters, and he was about to disabuse them of that
notion.