Chapter II
A Yautja always lurks around its prey. And sometimes it lurks around its food. This certain Yautja happened to have just had a meal. There was a quadruped species native to the planet that the Yautja found very appetizing. He had heard of the hearty taste of the beast from others who had hunted on this planet, and he was not disappointed. On the two beasts he had killed, he had eaten the liver, heart, as well as the lining of the stomach. He also sampled some of the muscle tissue on the inside of the beast. The Yautja was very careful not to spill blood. It was bad luck to make a feed animal bleed when killing it. He would be back to claim the rest of the remains, but for now he would let them dry, to improve upon the taste. But now the hunter sat on a far of treetop from where he had gotten his food. He used his helmet's visor to zoom in on four of the native bipeds. One of them was examining his meal. He watched as the female biped poked and prodded with various instruments. The Yautja decided he would go back tomorrow to retrieve the food. It was dark now, and even a hunter needed sleep after a thirty-hour space flight.
* * *
After a conversation with the Coopers and a promise to figure out what was going on, Tyler went home after he dropped May off at her house. It was about midnight when he finally arrived. He slowly, yet eagerly kicked off his shoes and got ready for bed. After such a long day, he needed the sleep.
He flopped down on the bed next to his wife, Sandy. She unconsciously rolled toward him and draped her arm over his chest. Her brown hair draped all over her pillow and she slept with a half smile on her face. Her skin was dark, but not very dark. Her father was a full blood Cherokee, and that fact carried on into his daughter's chromosomes. She was fairly tall for a woman, at about five foot eleven inches. She still wasn't as tall as Tyler who was about six foot seven. That was one of the advantages he had in his line of work. People were intimidated by his size and tended to "talk" more easily to him.
At nearly forty-seven though, he seemed less intimidating. Lines were showing more prominently on his face. His once thick, jet-black hair was now thinning and showing gray. His joints hurt every now and then too, and he didn't now like the idea of getting arthritis. But Tyler knew he was no longer the young policeman he used to be. One of the main reasons he left the force in Wichita because he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with the new officers. He knew that if he worked very hard on figuring out who was killing the cattle that he would become very stressed. The wheat was almost turned. Which meant harvest would be very soon. And if there was a big case for him while harvest was going on, it meant problems. Sure, he could probably find some hired hands, but he never liked to do that. But then again, it wouldn't be too hard. There were a few little towns that wouldn't even have law enforcement if it weren't for his department. Small towns like Greene had to have most government services come in from somewhere else.
Times like these made Tyler wonder why he decided to take the sheriff's job here.
* * *
Pete Jacobson sat on the riverbank, a different place than were he had been a couple days before. He had several fishing poles hanging out over the water. The Republican River was unusually high for a summer. At these months it tended to be pretty low. But Pete didn't care, as long as the fishing was good. He looked down on his fish cage he had staked on a rope in the ground. In the metal basket, half floating in the water, was a few medium sized channel catfish and on a line tied to the bank, independent of the basket was a large flathead catfish that probably weighed near twenty pounds. Not the kind of cat that you would stuff, but definitely one to fry. He listened as the various animals of the area made there various noises. The frogs and toads croaked. The crickets chirped. The owls hooted. The turtledoves cooed. The mosquitoes buzzed. The mayflies made various flapping sounds as they darted around Pete's Coleman Lantern. He had a Bud Light in his hands and at the moment, not a care in the world besides his fishing poles. But suddenly the frogs and toads stopped croaking. Then the crickets stopped. And then the owls. And the turtledoves. The only thing that was still making noise was the insistent buzzing of the insects. However, due to Pete's suddenly heightened state of awareness, even they seemed quite silent. And then he saw it. Darting through the trees was a shape. Not quite solid, but not completely translucent. He could make out the lines of it. It was definitely running on two legs and seemed to have a very human shape. But it was huge, and not to mention see-through. He saw it turn its head as it ran by and it seemed to look over at him, but it quickly ran on away from him.
After taking in what he had just seen for a few minutes, a very pale Pete packed up his fishing gear into his truck. He then grabbed his fish and put them in the back as well. All the way home, Pete's eyes were as wide as fists.
* * *
The Yautja saw the biped sitting on the riverbank as he was making his way his ship. But after a brief scan, he saw that the creature had no form of weaponry on him. And being an older specimen, he was ruled as unworthy to be prey unless he had a weapon.
* * *
As Tyler walked into his office the next day, his phone immediately rang. "Sheriff's office," he said into the receiver.
"Sheriff," said a very scared sounding Pete, "I saw something while I was fishing last night."
"What? More bones?" Tyler asked.
"If they were bones, then they sure didn't look like them, and they sure moved fast," replied the man.
"I'll be right there Pete."
A Yautja always lurks around its prey. And sometimes it lurks around its food. This certain Yautja happened to have just had a meal. There was a quadruped species native to the planet that the Yautja found very appetizing. He had heard of the hearty taste of the beast from others who had hunted on this planet, and he was not disappointed. On the two beasts he had killed, he had eaten the liver, heart, as well as the lining of the stomach. He also sampled some of the muscle tissue on the inside of the beast. The Yautja was very careful not to spill blood. It was bad luck to make a feed animal bleed when killing it. He would be back to claim the rest of the remains, but for now he would let them dry, to improve upon the taste. But now the hunter sat on a far of treetop from where he had gotten his food. He used his helmet's visor to zoom in on four of the native bipeds. One of them was examining his meal. He watched as the female biped poked and prodded with various instruments. The Yautja decided he would go back tomorrow to retrieve the food. It was dark now, and even a hunter needed sleep after a thirty-hour space flight.
* * *
After a conversation with the Coopers and a promise to figure out what was going on, Tyler went home after he dropped May off at her house. It was about midnight when he finally arrived. He slowly, yet eagerly kicked off his shoes and got ready for bed. After such a long day, he needed the sleep.
He flopped down on the bed next to his wife, Sandy. She unconsciously rolled toward him and draped her arm over his chest. Her brown hair draped all over her pillow and she slept with a half smile on her face. Her skin was dark, but not very dark. Her father was a full blood Cherokee, and that fact carried on into his daughter's chromosomes. She was fairly tall for a woman, at about five foot eleven inches. She still wasn't as tall as Tyler who was about six foot seven. That was one of the advantages he had in his line of work. People were intimidated by his size and tended to "talk" more easily to him.
At nearly forty-seven though, he seemed less intimidating. Lines were showing more prominently on his face. His once thick, jet-black hair was now thinning and showing gray. His joints hurt every now and then too, and he didn't now like the idea of getting arthritis. But Tyler knew he was no longer the young policeman he used to be. One of the main reasons he left the force in Wichita because he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with the new officers. He knew that if he worked very hard on figuring out who was killing the cattle that he would become very stressed. The wheat was almost turned. Which meant harvest would be very soon. And if there was a big case for him while harvest was going on, it meant problems. Sure, he could probably find some hired hands, but he never liked to do that. But then again, it wouldn't be too hard. There were a few little towns that wouldn't even have law enforcement if it weren't for his department. Small towns like Greene had to have most government services come in from somewhere else.
Times like these made Tyler wonder why he decided to take the sheriff's job here.
* * *
Pete Jacobson sat on the riverbank, a different place than were he had been a couple days before. He had several fishing poles hanging out over the water. The Republican River was unusually high for a summer. At these months it tended to be pretty low. But Pete didn't care, as long as the fishing was good. He looked down on his fish cage he had staked on a rope in the ground. In the metal basket, half floating in the water, was a few medium sized channel catfish and on a line tied to the bank, independent of the basket was a large flathead catfish that probably weighed near twenty pounds. Not the kind of cat that you would stuff, but definitely one to fry. He listened as the various animals of the area made there various noises. The frogs and toads croaked. The crickets chirped. The owls hooted. The turtledoves cooed. The mosquitoes buzzed. The mayflies made various flapping sounds as they darted around Pete's Coleman Lantern. He had a Bud Light in his hands and at the moment, not a care in the world besides his fishing poles. But suddenly the frogs and toads stopped croaking. Then the crickets stopped. And then the owls. And the turtledoves. The only thing that was still making noise was the insistent buzzing of the insects. However, due to Pete's suddenly heightened state of awareness, even they seemed quite silent. And then he saw it. Darting through the trees was a shape. Not quite solid, but not completely translucent. He could make out the lines of it. It was definitely running on two legs and seemed to have a very human shape. But it was huge, and not to mention see-through. He saw it turn its head as it ran by and it seemed to look over at him, but it quickly ran on away from him.
After taking in what he had just seen for a few minutes, a very pale Pete packed up his fishing gear into his truck. He then grabbed his fish and put them in the back as well. All the way home, Pete's eyes were as wide as fists.
* * *
The Yautja saw the biped sitting on the riverbank as he was making his way his ship. But after a brief scan, he saw that the creature had no form of weaponry on him. And being an older specimen, he was ruled as unworthy to be prey unless he had a weapon.
* * *
As Tyler walked into his office the next day, his phone immediately rang. "Sheriff's office," he said into the receiver.
"Sheriff," said a very scared sounding Pete, "I saw something while I was fishing last night."
"What? More bones?" Tyler asked.
"If they were bones, then they sure didn't look like them, and they sure moved fast," replied the man.
"I'll be right there Pete."