Chapter Six of my current wip. All and any comments very much appreciated

The glacial cold of the mountain’s shadow had shocked him when, in dawn’s first light, Jess stepped out of the flier clad in the basic kit of a single silk layer. But now, almost midday, and the sun-baked Jess’s back and top of his head while that same silk clung to him. At least he’d only one holo left to check.

Would it respond? If so it would be the first; none of the others had. Four. Defunct. He was gearing to give those Techs a roasting – just as soon as he’d checked this last one and made it to the pick-up point, though that was still a good distance away. He wondered how the others were faring.

He had amended his original plan. On further thought he’d realised it was excessive to pull the entire Obs team from the camp, exposing them to the local dangers, not to mention the Techs’ reprimands for entering a range, or at least breaking the perimeter. Thinking of the lay of the land, it was unlikely a juvenile would have strayed across the high rocky ridge that separated the base from the northern skeins. More likely it had ventured up from the west and worked its way around to where Canipse spied it not far from the north of their basecamp. Jess had already assigned himself to that western skein, so it was for him to check the holos there. As to the rest of the perimeter, one Obs per quadrant ought to suffice. But who to assign?

He ruled out Armar. Even if they weren’t intending to break rules, wisdom said to leave his deputy at base. Who knew what might crop up in his absence, this was only their third day. It would also be irresponsible to remove the scrawny team medic Antel from base. He further ruled out Brib and Joel. He preferred to break in buds gently, not have them go recklessly into terrain unknown. And he wanted Kookka as his flier. Robust, even for a Monza, Kookka was a good Obs to have if trouble hit. He decided on Zeke, Saker and Miax. Zeke he assigned to the eastern quadrant, which was nearest to his target skein, Saker and Miax north and south. They’d spent the previous evening studying maps and aerial images and with minds crisped from an abundance of Saker’s sweet brew, they’d firmed their plans.

“Here.” Kookka had pointed to a gap in the almost continuous tree-cover below the camp at the westernmost end of Skein 1’s range. “If I drop you here and pick you up…?” Kookka ran his finger eastward along the marked perimeter till he came to another suitable spot. “Here. And if I drop you, Saker, at this same place, I can pick you up…?” Again, he ran his finger along the marked perimeter till he came to another suitable place. This next one wasn’t so difficult – at least there wasn’t the tree-cover only deep shadows that suggested sharp rifts. He continued picking out suitable drop-spots along the perimeter, spacing them as approximately quarter-arcs till each Obs knew where they’d be dropped, and where to wait to be picked up.

“How long are you giving us?” Zeke asked Kookka.

Kookka looked at Jess.

“If you drop us close after sunup…” Jess said, “we ought to cover that distance in—what’d you say, Zeke? Half a day? Yea. So, you can pick us up around midday.”

Around midday. Would he make it to the rendezvous in time? Fine to say that Kookka would wait – Kookka would wait because Kookka was Kookka – but could Jess inflict a long wait on the others? Though they might not make it on time either. They had rougher terrain to negotiate, all sharp cleaving gullies. All he had was a supposedly gentle stroll through the foothills.

But what hadn’t shown up on the maps nor yet been seen on the aerial images, lost beneath a thick cover of foliage, were the tumbling streams that cut those foothills every few paces. Though they weren’t the worst of it; most could be stepped across. It was that river. Rising close to their base in the mountains, it carved its way down to the plain. But long before it ever crashed down the last tier of the foothills, with all those small streams adding their waters it had grown to monstrous size. And this was the dry season?

If he left it too late to cross that river, his intended route would prove impassable. But where was best to cross it? Not close to the perimeter as marked on the map. There it was too fierce and wide. Maybe higher, closer to camp? Otherwise, lower where the images showed it as slowly meandering? Although it entailed a long stray into Skein 1’s range, Jess chose that option. But finding a suitable crossing place still wasn’t easy with the river looping back and forth.

The Techs would skin him – skin him – if they knew how far he’d strayed from the perimeter. That was if the river’s micro and macro fauna didn’t have him first. But finally, he had crossed it with no mishaps, and the drenching had cooled and refreshed him. He turned then to regain his footing in the hills above him. He’d not far to go to the last of the holos in his sector, the perimeter here being at its closest to the plain. In fact, it was almost onto the beach, skirting the back of the dunes.

The holos were set to trigger at the approach of the Itamakku, who weren’t as tall as even the youngest Monza, and Jess was one of the tallest. Thus, he must deceive the holo’s trigger. He waddled towards it in a crouch, feeling rather undignified. The holo triggered.

Since this was the first working holo he’d found, he lingered in front of it to keep it running. What had the Techs devised as their deterrent?

The projected figure stood at least twice as tall as himself and was clearly intended to be one of the Itamakku even if massively larger than life-size. But then size can be frightening, so he understood that.

The holo didn’t allow long for him to study the figure. Male, female, young, old? But if that was supposed to be female and fertile… well, it was as well that the Techs would organise the breeding programme, ex uterus. To enter…that? No. No, no, no. A sudden revulsion drenched him. But no, that role would not be given to the Obs. No contact, remember. He shuddered as if the heat had suddenly drained from the air around him.

The figure was talking. How did the Techs know the words to give the holo? Heard from the fliers. But hearing and understanding, not the same. Had a previous team learned their language? Jess listened to the recording. Though he couldn’t understand a word of it, yet it seemed to him… lyrical, yea, lyrical. But when was lyrical ever scary, so how did this holo work?

And now Jess saw how. A ghastly sight. He didn’t want to watch. He wanted to turn and… but transfixed, held by his wide gaped eyes, he stayed. He’d seen the results before. That raw uncovered flesh. But to see… strips… tearing… exposing… the Itamakku’s intimate ugly inner body. Blood oozed and seeped from places never meant to be displayed unless… unless it were for food. He saw again that juvenile, skinned and hung on a pole. He stepped back as gore splattered from the holo’s torn guts. It looked so real. He could smell the blood, its sweetness, could taste its thickness, feel the heat of it.

A movement behind him. He turned. And froze.

Fool! Look where he was standing. Hadn’t he taken it all in at the Briefing? Hadn’t he seen those burrows around the dunes? Didn’t he know what they meant?

The dragon, probably full-grown, stood at tall as him at the shoulder. All scaly skin and yellow forked tongue lashing the air. And teeth. Teeth like the high spine of a mountain range. Sharp. Pointed. Strong. It lifted a heavy squadchy square foot and flopped it down, lifting and pounding, one foot after the other as it stalked towards him. Slavering. Preparing.

And it wasn’t alone.

But he knew that from the Briefing: These outsized carnivorous teeth-proud beasts hunted in packs. At least the others weren’t so huge. Some – juveniles – could be called small.

Jess’s hand went to the gun strapped to his side. Always, on base and off, the team carried those guns – to stun, to give them a chance of escape should the alien fauna want to investigate them too closely. But would the gun bring down a full-grown dragon? And that would be good, but what then of the others?

Choice? Jess hardly dared look away from the dragon but must. Yikes! He wished he had not. They had fanned out around him and now were slowly closing in. He was dead, he was meat. He’d only the one gun. In desperation, he discharged, aimed at the advancing dragon’s huge head.

At first the dragon looked shocked. It halted, as if unable to move. Now! Jess ought to move now. Yet he knew from the Briefing, for all their size, these dragons could be fast on their feet. He’d never outrun them. How long for the gun to recharge? If the Techs ever had told him, it had long since seeped from his head.

Jess watched as the dragon slowly slumped to the ground. Dust rose around it. Its companions, as one, turned their eyes from Jess to this grounded other. Head turning every which way, Jess took a cautious step back. One. Two. Another. Then the frenzy began.

Stunned to inaction, for overlong time-bits Jess merely stood and watched as the dragons tore at each other, each eager to feed off its fallen fellow, stumpy legs thrusting others aside, claws raking scaled sides in an effort to grab at least one big bite.

Appalled, Jess finally began to edge away. Reluctant as he was to take his eyes from them, he turned to run. And saw the Itamakku female, standing atop the dunes, the sea behind her.

to be continued