Chapter 12: The Hunt

"Mr. Pike," Captain Faux-Jeton said coolly. "When you have Sparrow proceed to that low point in the ridge line. At its summit you will light a fire to signal your presence. We will capture Captain Amelia's party and meet you there."

"Aye, ma'am." Pike dutifully saluted and turned to his men as the Captain's longboat lifted into the air and made for the gap she had just indicated.

It had been touch and go whether they would even have a longboat. Once the damage control parties had gone over the ship they had finally inspected the remaining boats in the bay. Someone had done a masterful job of disabling them. The wrights had worked most of the night to get enough parts from one to repair the other and still they'd had to fabricate a length of cable just to get power from the sail. Whoever had sabotaged the longboats had torn out the same components from each. The one boat was jury-rigged with parts never intended for the use they were now being put to. The Einfassen herself was barely staying in orbit and before they could sail her away the mast would still need to be re-seated. That would be two days work if they could find a place to careen her.

Pike shook these thoughts off and led his team down into the forest toward the crash site of the first boat. They had hardly crossed into the thick brush before they were obliged to stop. The cage holding Mr. Ser's gwythlon was too bulky to carry through the brambles and vines.

"Well, there's no choice," Pike grumbled. "Ser, keep her on her leash. Be sure she doesn't bite anyone."

"Lacy won't hurt none o' us, Mr. Pike," Ser said as he opened the stout bars of the cage.

Lacy hesitated for just a moment then flashed into the sunlit forest. She moved like quick silver, all ten legs churning along through the ground cover hardly leaving a track. Her sinuous body as long as a man was tall seemed to flex in three directions at once as she followed the terrain. Lacy circled around the group sniffing at everything and scowling as though she were ready to tear to shreds whatever she came across. Mr. Ser whistled sharply and brought her obediently to heel. As the man snapped her collar on the lizard's eyes tracked malevolently over the crewmen. Her mouth that split three quarters of the way back into her head scowled at nothing and she snarled her dissatisfaction at being leashed. Rows of horrible, sharp, translucent silicon teeth glinted in the sunlight. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she looked to her master for instructions.

"We be hun'in', girl," Ser said with a gentle smile. He fearlessly scratched the creature under her jaw which seemed to sooth her for a moment. "You foller me close an' w'in we find the spot where the prey crashed you foller their scent. Lead us right to 'em, girl. Maybe I'll even let you eat that lit'le one what bothered ya on the ship. Would you like that?"

Evidently Lacy did. For the first time she sat up happily and rubbed her head against the bulky spacer's belly as if begging to be set loose to find their quarry.

With a sense of foreboding Pike led them on into the forest with its many twisted trees and vines. He knew not what things lay in wait behind the next trunk or boulder. There was little sound aside from the calls of the flocking mantabirds high over head. From the dazzling sunlit clearing they had moved into the shadows of the forest with its seemingly trackless groves of trees. Pike somehow felt as though he were being watched the whole time and unconsciously took a tighter grip on his musket.

"Mr. Toombs," Captain Faux-Jeton said. "Strip what parts you may need from this boat. Be sure to not damage them. Once that is done you will cruise in a search pattern bearing back toward the gap in the ridge. Sweep wide and be thorough. If you sight Captain Amelia do not try to take her yourself. You will sound your distress horn and launch flares every half hour until we find you. Under no circumstance are you to allow her to get this boat. Destroy it if you must. When we are ready to be extracted we will signal you with a blue flare. If you run low on provisions, you may return to the Einfassen long enough to resupply."

"Aye, Captain," Toombs replied with a salute. He then rummaged in his tool locker and pulled out a bulky box of wrenches.

Faux-Jeton waved her men to follow her up the valley. Amelia's party had not gone to a great deal of trouble to hide their trail but it was a full two days old and the forest had already begun to hide the path they'd made. Taja felt sure that Amelia would make for the saddle of rock. Her children were on the far side of the ridge and Amelia would never abandon them to the dubious care of Sparrow or one of those Pajakians. Absently Taja wondered if the stories she had heard of the Pajakians and children were true. She doubted it but then you could never be sure with some species. Children were a nuisance anyway. Necessary but a nuisance. She herself would never have children. The wailing. The blubbering. How could anyone stand them? Perhaps the Pajakians had it right? Set them loose to fend for themselves until they were old enough to be civilized. At least then you would have only the healthiest, most intelligent and most resourceful of the breed. That was what mattered in life: strength and cunning.

They were going gradually up the valley slope. As Faux-Jeton had suspected the trail was leading steadily towards the saddle in the ridge. It sometimes wound down slope for a few hundred yards but eventually it would turn back up when the forest thinned and the way became easier. Four hours into their trek she called a halt for rest, water and food. Each of her men was tough and used to enduring hardship but this was a little different than what they would face aboard ship. Normally they would need do no more walking than would take them from stem to stern. A matter of a hundred paces or so. She herself was feeling a burning in her calf muscles and was beginning to regret her choice of boots. She could not afford to look weak in front of the men. All of them were soaked with sweat and some had removed their tunics and tied them about their waists. The heat had been unexpected. She reproached herself for the error. A moon this close to a gas giant would naturally retain a good deal of heat. The nights were very short and never fully dark with disc of the massive planet shining down on them. Given the kind of vegetation, Faux-Jeton suspected that there would not be a great variation in seasons here. From orbit she had observed a rocky and forest covered world with only two small seas near the equator.

"Captain," one of the men called from near the edge of the small clearing they'd stopped in.

"What is it, Mr. Waller?" Faux-Jeton asked from her seat on a rock.

"Footprints, ma'am," Waller said pointing to a spot on the ground.

The Captain stood and approached carefully. Indeed there were prints. They were small, no more than half the size of her own foot. She frowned over them a moment. Four toes with what looked like claw marks. Whatever had made them had not been a member of Amelia's party.

"What do you make of them, Waller?" she asked. Waller was one of the few members of her crew who had real experience on planetary patrol.

"Small. Bipedal. Looks like it stopped and maybe rooted 'round a bit," Waller examined the foliage nearby. "Aye! See these marks, Captain? I think it climbed here. Maybe came down from this tree and then went back up the same way."

"Interesting but of no real value to us," Faux-Jeton said evenly. "Still, it's wise to keep an eye out for anything that might be trouble. Good man, Waller. Take note of any recurrence of such tracks and if you think it a danger, inform me immediately."

"Aye-aye, ma'am," Waller said pleased that his captain had taken note of him. As she returned to her seat he continued to examine the tracks. They were definitely made by something on two legs. He also noted a circular imprint near the tracks and a similar one at the base of the tree where the creature had climbed back into the branches. He didn't know what to make of that until he picked up his musket and noted the impression the butt of the weapon had made in the soft dirt. It was probably nothing so he did not tell his captain. Waller just filed it away for future reference.

Anamaria watched Amelia as the party rested. The captain was restless even though she was as tired as the others. Anamaria was worried too and she missed Brraadtt. Her frustration had taken a back seat to the immediate need of evading Faux-Jeton and her crew. It had not gone and she had sworn to herself that the mercenaries would pay in blood. The fierce fighting spirit that had driven her to rise from a fisherman's daughter to a skilled and cunning smuggler had been fully awakened and it lusted for revenge on those who had killed one of her friends and perhaps had slain another. She wondered about Jack and the children and even Alamimo.

"How strange," Delbert murmured.

Anamaria looked to where he sat and asked, "What is it?"

"Prints," Delbert pointed to the dirt near the log that was his seat. "Small. Four toes with claws. Biped I should think."

"Bi what?" Anamaria shifted herself to the log next to him to get a better look. Lh'aer'ri turned his eyes to get a better vantage but did not rise.

"Bipedal. It means that the animal stands on two legs." Delbert pointed to two separate tracks as he explained.

"Do you think it's dangerous?" Anamaria asked.

"Perhaps," Delbert scratched his chin. "It is small. Likely not half your height. But claws as long as those could do some very real damage."

"Aye," agreed Lh'aer'ri. "I've seen many small creatures that can cause harm disproportional to their size."

"Most are not inclined to venture too close to sentient peoples for whatever reason," Delbert mused. "Something about technology that intimidates them I believe. But this one seems to have been alone. It was here recently I think. Shortly before we arrived. See how the dirt is pressed down and the grass has not yet sprung back? That indicates the print was made today and recently."

"What could it be?" Amelia finally had taken notice of the conversation.

"I think it will be similar in form to us though clearly not in height. Arboreal too." Delbert pointed to where the tracks ended at the base of one of the massive trunks near the game trail they had been following. Large animals of some sort had forged through this part of the forest leaving a winding path that lead in the general direction of the saddle of rock they were making for.

"Intelligent?" Amelia asked.

"I'm not sure but it is possible." Delbert scratched his chin again. He adjusted his spectacles as he peered at the dirt. "Seems to be carrying something. It might be just a stick but I think it has been shaped. Most sticks do not break off so cleanly as this mark suggests."

"Why would it carry a stick?" Anamaria asked.

"Why indeed?" Delbert murmured.

"A spear then?" Amelia suggested.

"At a guess," Delbert murmured again. "A spear seems likely."

"Best to stay alert, Ensign, Anamaria," Amelia advised them. "We've rested long enough. Faux-Jeton's boat surely has reached our crash site by now and they will be hot on our trail. We must go."

The footsore fugitives gathered up their packs and started along the trail once more. Each was preoccupied by thoughts of spear toting aboriginals in the branches above and mercenaries on the trail behind.