Chosen One, page 36
'Lingual translation initiated. Downloading VAI files. Decoding sequence complete. Please identify yourself.'
Orn scratched his hairless head. The voice seemed to be coming from the crystal attached to his leg. He changed his thinking accordingly. ‘Who's in there?'
'Identify yourself,’ repeated the utterance. It had the ring of maleness, albeit stilted and tinny.
Little did Orn realise that he actually was conversing directly with Gideon's Energy Dome. Infused with a basic interface capability for user-friendliness, the device replayed automated responses when certain criteria arose. Vai comically thought of the dome's mouthpiece as her illegitimate son.
Orn did not find the unseen orator so amusing. In fact, he was immensely distressed by the intrusion and gazed at the crystal with a piercing look of mistrust. ‘Are you a bug trapped in there?’ he asked dubiously. He had never come across a talking insect before.
'Identify yourself,’ insisted the unemotional voice.
Not knowing what else to do, the Fastclaw introduced himself. ‘Hello ... ah, my name's Orn.'
'Accessing database for verification.'
Orn gingerly gave his fettered leg a shake. He half expected the dome to rattle from the noise of the tiny speaker lodged within. Disturbingly, it did not.
The voice came back on-line. ‘Name unlisted: state academy affiliation and security clearance code.'
The Killjaw king's gofer did well to interpret the insensible speech. ‘I'm a Fastclaw, speediest lizard in all...'
'Initiating DNA scan.'
Orn looked deeper into the yellowed crystal. ‘Where are you lurking you pesky little critter?’ Talking bug or not, the Fastclaw felt like snacking on the crunchy tidbit.
'Genetic scan complete, reptilian tissue match confirmed. Please terminate unauthorised usage.'
A chord of disquiet tolled in Orn's head. The strange voice demonstrated no hint of inflection, yet the politely spoken caveat was unmistakable and nobody recognised a threat better than Rexus's maligned dogsbody.
'Terminate usage,’ it reiterated. The dome's hue changed to amber in visible warning.
Orn fumbled in vain with the stubborn fastener, attempting to unlock the immovable wristband.
'Terminate immediately,’ the halved orb ordered. The colour shifted to orange.
The Fastclaw frantically redoubled his efforts, the catch refusing to spring open.
A garish red light flared angrily from the lighted crystal. ‘Commencing auto destruct countdown. Detonation in thirty semics.'
Orn did not like the sound of that and desperately tried kicking the device off his manacled leg.
'Detonation in twenty semics.'
Running out of options, the Fastclaw assumed the only alternative open to him and took to his feet. Flight, the standard defence of his kind, had always worked in the past. He would outrun today's danger just as easily.
'Detonation in ten semics.'
Orn tore through the forest like a scalded marsupial fallen into a hot pool, even with the handicap holding fast to his leg. The trees rushed by him in a blur of mossy browns and greens as he slalomed the obstructing boles with inbred ease.
'Detonation in five semics.'
The Fastclaw sprinted faster.
'Four semics.'
He hit his stride in fifty mile per hour spurts.
'Three.'
Orn became a striped smudge of black and white streaking through the woods.
'Two.'
He felt as if he could outpace the wind itself!
'One.'
* * * *
Vai hummed into life. Just because the cybernate happened to be on standby did not mean her monitoring of the region had slacked off, and a monumental explosion was pretty hard to miss. She activated a low-level scan of the area, drawing upon her precious reserve of dwindling plasma energy, and got a shock. The telltale blast signature did not emanate from the northwest, as she surmised. The volcano in that sector was certainly grumbling, but had not yet erupted. Disquieted by the lack of evidence, Vai investigated further.
She made two startling discoveries—the discharge was situated perilously close to Gideon's last known location in the woody southeast and appeared to be ground-based. The latter ruled out an impact from one of the myriad of splinters spearheading the main asteroid and set to make their debut soon enough. Despite the poor resolution offered by her reduced scan and the distance involved, the probing computer persona detected a blast radius of several miles across and a lingering trace of plasma residue in the vicinity. The size and nature of the bang led her to the only conclusion possible—Gideon's Energy Dome had exploded!
His motherly minder cycled through the probable causes that would set off such a catastrophe. None of them boded well—overheating, damage, self-detonation. An unfounded suspicion made her pick up on the last and without fully understanding why she reviewed her transmissions file. There it was. Her no-nonsense little boy had accessed her language decoding files only rohns ago. She felt conflicted. Energy Domes did not function independently of the their wearer unless...
Vai's calculations had taken a horrible turn for the worse. Every single dome came with a built-in auto destruct mechanism discharged as a last resort if the device fell into the wrong hands. It was a wartime precaution. Gideon's older model was no exception, packing an explosive punch big enough to level a city block. If stolen and accidentally misused by the thief, the ‘suicide button'—the unflattering label field crews dubbed the automated destructor—would have surely been triggered.
Her computerised mind boggled. The Energy Dome had sequestered Lingual Decoder datum, specifically reptilian speech translation info, semics before destroying itself. That tamper-proof record lent itself to the certainty of the dome having been appropriated by a miscreant saurian.
Vai blanched.
Surely one of these primitive, earthbound reptiles hereabouts was incapable of such a theft? They were too animalistic for such a devious act. An unthinkable likelihood therefore remained—there was a Tsor warrior party somewhere loose on this planet. What if the starsphere's rushed flight to this biosphere had been tracked by a surviving element of Berran's bitter enemy who, having secretly landed and abducted her commander, tore Gideon's Energy Dome off his wrist during the course of some brutal interrogation and inadvertently destroyed themselves and everything around them in the process?
Vai had to find out. She decided then and there to countermand Gideon's instruction to lay low, conserving energy. With a determined hum the intelligent computer's long range scanning burst into action. Come hell or high water Vai was going to locate her lost master—whether his body turned out to be alive or dead.
* * * *
'We wait.'
Orridus could see Thauron champing at the bit beside him as they stood on the boundary of a tiny clearing a mile north of the eastern foot of the Uplands, but held his stance of non-action.
'What are we waiting for—spring?’ griped the deposed Shieldhorn Dominator.
His older successor remained adamant. ‘We don't make a move until our reinforcements arrive.'
The churlish Longfrill grunted.
The hermit glanced back and found Thauron's impatience mirrored in the attack force of restless Shieldhorns lolling about in the forest behind them. The warrior-bulls were a mixed bag of Shortfrills and Longfrills. Orridus wanted an all-Shortfrill assault party on the simple grounds of size and bulk, but had relented to Thauron's insistence that his herd brothers should be afforded an equal share of the upcoming glory. The result was a thirty-strong bunch of raiders comprised half of younger, jaunty Longfrills backed up by the aplomb of elder Shortfrills.
'Can't these Bonefrill pals of yours rescue this exalted compatriot of theirs without outside help?’ Thauron demanded to know.
'They're Boneheads,’ corrected Orridus, ‘and you of all lizards should appreciate there is safety in numbers. They badly need support and who better to give it than us.'
Thauron conceded that point with another grunt. Shieldhorns were the undisputed brawlers of the herbisaur fraternity.
A pang of guilt tugged at the hermit for having fibbed to his junior commander. Rather than going through the rigmarole of explaining the whole alien episode to Thauron, Orridus resorted to fabricating the tale that Gideon was a revered Bonehead albino captured by the Killjaws as a curiosity in order to expedite the rescue attempt. It was not so far fetched. He had glimpsed the extraterrestrial for himself and from a distance Gideon could perhaps pass for a dwarf, misshapen Bonehead.
Orridus heaved a quiet sigh. The deception was a necessity. Shieldhorns were generally not noted for their brainpower, and complicated thoughts gave them severe headaches, much like the obtuse Duckbills. They operated best on instinct, so a simple kidnapping was the ideal ploy to quickly get them on side and motivated to join his cause.
The patch of overcast visible in the window of the treetops encompassing the glade showed no trace of Fitzfeather. The Honker had gone aloft to scope out the highlands for the first sign of Cragg and his band of helpers, and was due to report back any time. Orridus snorted. The silence of the forest was positively deafening. Alphie was away conducting his reconnoitre of the Killjaw encampment. Accurate intelligence is the key to any military operation and the unobtrusive marsupial made an admirable scout. His absence was markedly noticeable. The recluse actually missed the irascible Treefur's wisecracking for breaking the tension.
The flutter of strongly-beating wings told of Fitzfeather's landing approach moments before he touched down haphazardly in the clearing with his typical lack of grace. Landings plainly were not his forte. He legged it over to where the pair of intimidating Shieldhorns waited, his upturned tail feathers waggling in the usual end-of-flight ritual peculiar to bird-kind.
Thauron gave Orridus a sidelong glance. ‘Another mascot, Rhyna?'
'I collect them. It's a hobby.'
'Have you befriended all the weirdoes in and around Mother Forest?
'No, just you.'
'Orridus, old boy,’ greeted the Honker.
'Where's Cragg?’ the hermit asked without any preamble.
'The Rockheads egress their hilly abode on schedule.'
'They are Boneheads!’ the old Shortfrill moaned in exasperation. ‘Why is that name so hard to remember?'
'I got the “head” part correct,’ Fitzfeather said plaintively.
'Will he be in place on time?'
'Uncouth Cragg may be, old chap, but he is not tardy.'
'We can at last get going then,’ Thauron rumbled.
Orridus haltered Thauron again. ‘Don't go off charging half-cocked just yet. We must wait for Cragg to get in position before moving against the Killjaws. Timing is everything.'
'You're not afraid of tackling the calf-killers?’ accused Thauron.
The hermit turned on his hobbled lieutenant. ‘Planning wins a fight, and in case you forgot, I haven't lost a contest yet.'
The usurped Dominator bellowed soberly, ‘Thanks for reminding me.'
Turning back to the grounded Honker, Orridus said, ‘I think you had better get back up on high, Fitzy. Alphie is conducting a ground sweep of the area the Killjaws have settled in and I wouldn't mind a pair of eyes in the sky backing him up.'
'Jolly good. By the way, this may be incidental or not. I spied a peculiarity off to the east of you a short while ago.'
Orridus expressed only mild interest. ‘And what was that?'
'A fireball.'
That got the hermit's attention. ‘Do tell.'
Fitzfeather did just that. ‘I happened to be banking in that direction. In truth, I got caught by a frightful wind gust and blown horribly beak over bum...'
'Just describe the anomaly please,’ gently prodded Orridus.
'I'm getting to it, if you let me!’ the haughty waterfowl snapped back. ‘As I was saying, I was flying east when this huge ball of fire ballooned above the trees. Quite a flashy show actually.'
'That explains the dull thud we heard earlier,’ reasoned Thauron. He looked in puzzlement at the clouded sky. ‘Strange there was thunder and lightning but no rain for this time of the season.'
'It wasn't a lightning strike, you blithering dolt,’ contradicted the Honker. ‘The skies are grey indeed, yet there is no thunderstorm on the breeze.'
Thauron took exception to being called “blithering"—whatever that meant—and snorted loudly, shaking his mighty frill to boot. Fitzfeather in turn took a prudent step backwards from the offended Longfrill.
'Roughly whereabouts did this fireball appear?’ enquired Orridus.
'Down near the Killjaw throne, if that lump of rotten tree can be called such. If you ask me...'
'I wasn't, Fitzy. I take it you went snooping in that direction?'
'I never snoop, old chum, merely observe. As a matter of fact I made a quick sortie over the area in order to take a gander.'
'What did you see?'
'I flew through a devilish amount of smoke. It'll take me ages to preen the soot out of my feathers.'
'Anything else you saw?'
'Flattened trees, smoking brush, burnt earth—ghastly stuff really.'
Thauron was tired of this pointless discussion. ‘What bearing does this have on our raid?’ he grumbled. ‘I'm here to spear Killjaws, not talk over freak weather patterns.'
'Would you rather be overtaken by a firestorm in the midst of the attack?’ argued Orridus.
'I hadn't thought of that.'
'Let me do the thinking, Thauron. You do the charging.'
The chagrined bull brightened at that prospect.
'I sincerely doubt there is any risk of a blazing forest fire,’ speculated Fitzfeather. ‘The wood is frightfully damp still.'
'I was making a point,’ said Orridus.
'Do you honestly think dunderhead here got it, old boy?'
Thauron stiffened. Had that been another insult?
The hermit hung his horned head in despair. ‘Must you aggravate everyone you meet, Fitzy?'
'By jove, I believe I do!’ the Honker said with unashamed pride. He ruffled his feathers. ‘My mission awaits me. I had better dash.'
'I think that's a splendid idea,’ nodded Orridus. He lifted his head as the regally plumaged bird took wing into the murky heavens.
'Back to waiting?’ Thauron grumped to his Shortfrill better.
'Back to waiting.'
They did not have to wait for very long. Half an hour later Alphie poked his twitching, whiskered nose out of the leaf litter at Orridus's hoofed forefeet. ‘Hey ugly, I'm back!’ he rudely called out to the hermit.
'I never would've guessed,’ Orridus said bitingly. ‘What'd you find out?'
'That I'm not wild about walking for too long. Boy, do I have sore paws!'
'I meant about the enemy.'
'Oh, them. The Killjaws are definitely up ahead.'
'Thanks for the newsflash,’ the hermit rumbled sardonically. Getting information out of the Treefur was like trying to uproot a tree stump. ‘Whereabouts are they placed?’ Orridus had to know exact predator positions in order to finalise his attack plans.
'All over the place, horn-head and they're running around like a bunch of headless beetles.'
Thauron was as perplexed as Orridus by the strangeness of the report. ‘Rodent, are they by chance hunting?'
'You might say that, stripe-head. The buffoons are combing the forest for something they've lost.'
Orridus grew even more mystified. ‘The only thing Rexus has lost is his mind and I doubt he'll have much success finding his sanity again. What could that devil have possibly misplaced?'
'Ahem.’ Alphie puffed up and annoyingly became filled with his own self-importance. His contribution to this expedition had outgrown his size.
'You'd better share whatever else you've uncovered, whiskers,’ Orridus instructed in a stern voice.
'Ask nicely first,’ the Treefur said cheekily.
'Alphred.'
The warning tone in the hermit's rumble was loud and clear. He was in no mood to play along with the roguish marsupial.
'Oh, very well,’ sulked Alphie. ‘It has to do with who we've come for.'
'Gideon. What about him?'
The Treefur came up on his hind legs to stand nose to snout with the questioning Shortfrill. ‘He's not there.'
* * * *
Pandemonium reigned.
King Rexus limped angrily to and fro in the cramped confines of the small clearing, roaring obscenities and barking orders until he was hoarse. ‘Find me them, you incompetents, or find yourselves new heads!’ The tongue-lashed Killjaws responded in a flurry of bounding legs and flapping tails as each scrabbled to get out of the ranting monarch's way.
Having recently returned from double-checking the security arrangements for Prince Luthos to find Gideon and Tank absent, the tyrant-king had gone spare. If the inexplicable disappearance of Festur and Shadower, coupled with Orn's own lateness, were not enough to contend with, now he had a missing alien and adviser.
'Shift yourselves, you layabouts!’ he bellowed. ‘Bring me Gideon and that traitor Tank, else I'll have your guts for spiderwebbing.’ He stamped his gouty foot hard on the ground and hollered an awful screech of pain. His subjects scattered into the forest in loose search parties of ones and twos, leaving their howling sovereign alone in the glade. Rexus just could not believe this stroke of bad luck. How could a lumbering Clubtail and sickly offworlder slip by their Killjaw guards to simply vanish into thin air? Was it some sort of alien trickery?
A frightening whoosh overhead lent credence to that suspicion. Glancing skywards, the giant meat-eater reflexively cringed as he caught a fleeting glimpse of a fearful sight—a house-sized rock glowing red hot and trailing a streamer of smoke rocketing low over Mother Forest along its suicidal trajectory in a headlong descent toward oblivion. The large meteor streaked by to impact someplace in the southern haunts of the vast wood with a resounding boom reminiscent of an ear-splitting thunderclap.
Regaining his poise, Rexus anxiously scanned the heavens. ‘The damn sky is falling in,’ he muttered.
He was not far off with his grim assumption. A sudden parting of the cloud layer revealed a host of similar missiles higher up in the dull greyness. They were nothing more than fast-moving points of light with smoky trailers, but the sight greatly disturbed the tyrant-king. Seconds later the meteorites were obscured by the austere overcast moving back in to reclaim the airspace momentarily lost to the wind. Rexus had glimpsed enough. The incoming astral shells were zooming south also.
