Undiscovered Territory
CHAPTER FOUR: A Little Insight
This had to be one of the most boring missions he had ever been assigned.
Commander Basalt paced around the bridge, hands folded behind his back, face set in an expression that caused all those present to give him a wide berth. His steps were loud and harsh, well-suited to his mood. He was bored, and whenever he was bored, he also became angry.
While he could have gone out with the scout patrols - such was included in his duties, in fact - he steadfastly refused to do so. It was beneath him. A scout though he was, he was deserving of more. Far more. Much better things than that to which he had been forced to become accustomed.
A scout was a highly necessary, but not highly esteemed job in the empire. Scouts, even the best of them, like he was, were treated like rubbish. Largely ignored by the elites, laughed at by the soldiers . . . It was a demeaning, embarrassing life. He had the right to something better than that.
He turned his palm up, gathering a ball of pulsating violet ki. The power felt warm and wonderful, yet at the same time bitter in his hands. There were soldiers in the army weaker than he, and yet he was somehow not qualified to serve. Oh, he knew why. His people, the Kazangan-jin had always been a race that was not extraordinarily gifted in terms of power. While they were not entirely weak if they chose not to be, theirs was largely a technological society. More brains than brawn. Thus, when the planet was taken over by the empire, several years before he was born, they were considered far more suitable as scientists or scouts than as warriors.
Basalt closed his palm, extinguishing the ball of ki. Stereotypes were difficult to overcome. But there was a way, had to be a way, and so help him, he was going to find it.
"Bah," he spat. Deciding to give his steps a purpose besides wearing a tread into the ship's floor, he headed for the exit of the bridge. None present questioned him, did not dare. After all, he was the commander.
The world outside was as equally unstimulating as the mission itself. Nothing but flat plains of grass waving in a soft breeze, placid greenish waters, and the occasional bluff or canyon. Perhaps some would find it a paradise, a good planet upon which to vacation. To him, an undeveloped land was nothing more than a waste of space. There were likely no intelligent life forms here, for he had not yet seen any true signs of civilization . . .
No, that was not true, he amended. A few hours earlier, his main patrol - the one he would have accompanied should he have decided to lower himself to such a thing - had evidently stumbled upon a pair of intelligent natives. Two young children, as he had heard described. He supposed that he would have to see them sometime, for it was prudent to discover information from what could be a future enemy.
"Commander Basalt," came a voice from behind him. He turned, coming face to face with the mottled purple and orange visage of one of his patrolmen. Pumice, he believed the man's name to be.
Basalt sighed in annoyance. "What is it?"
"The captain from Tegakari is on the hailing frequency," the scout answered. "He is waiting for you to make the preliminary report on the planet's status."
Basalt would have grumbled something derogatory about having to constantly report to superiors - a protocol more often inflicted upon scouts than upon soldiers - but he would not allow himself to appear sulky in front of an underling. "Very well, " he said, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes . . . And when they reached the top of their arc, something grabbed their attention, and he paused. "What is that?"
He didn't have a good vantage point, as the object of his curiosity was somewhat high in the air. It appeared to be a quite small person, most likely a child, with green skin and he thought that he could discern a pair of antennae on its forehead. One of the natives, floating above the ship, though completely unaware of it; Basalt's ship, like most used by scouts, was equipped with advanced cloaking technology so as to avoid premature detection. Or detection at all.
Another child glided over to meet the first, and the two hung in the air, clearly having some sort of conversation. His mind working, Basalt frowned. Those creatures looked vaguely familiar somehow, but he could not place them.
After a moment, the two children flew off together, soon mere specks in the distance.
"They look like the ones we caught, Commander," Pumice supplied. "More of the native children."
"Looking for their companions, no doubt," Basalt agreed, taking his eyes off the sky. "Follow them."
Pumice blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. They're going back to wherever their home is, so we may be able to get a better read on what we're up against. Now do as I say."
Basalt smiled in satisfaction as Pumice flew off in the same direction as the children. Perhaps things would become more interesting now. He knew that he had seen the native species somewhere before, and something nagged at him about it. Something extremely important, though he did not know what.
Suddenly not so bored and moody, he headed back to the ship to make his report.
* * *
Green text rapidly scrolled down the computer screen, and went on and on . . . Yes, there indeed was a wealth of information here, but unfortunately, as Doctor Gneiss discovered, it did not pertain to her subject. She could tell after reading only a few sentences that it was not what she was looking for. Not at all discouraged - patience was a very important virtue for any scientist to possess - she continued on with her search to find out the next possible species that her newest subjects might be.
The problem was, like insect-based species, gastropod-based species were rather common in the universe. Thus it was difficult to find statistics on any specific one. And there was every possibility that there were none at all on her new subjects. Which she would almost prefer, to tell the truth. There were few better thrills than being the first to study a new species.
Her current search also proved to be a dead end, and she simply went on to the next. She scanned the first few paragraphs, and found some promise. Reading further, the description still matched.
"Well, it looks like we have a winner," she said, almost disappointed to find that she would not be pioneering the research after all. "Nameks. How strange; I thought they went extinct when Lord Frieza destroyed their planet." It was only common sense to assume such a thing. Species did not typically outlive their home planets unless they had advanced space travel technology. Something the Nameks did not have, according to this report.
Doctor Gneiss continued to read, though she did not find a great deal of interest. Most of the information dealt with social structure and technology level. But a fascinating detail proved to be present, and it caught her eye.
"Powerful regenerative capabilities." That would be quite the area to study. Perhaps she would find a way to make the empire's regeneration tanks more efficient. Add that to the fact that this was just about the only piece of physiological data on the species, leaving her to discover the rest . . .
A gurgling laugh bubbled forth from her lips. She felt very nearly giddy as she bounced out of her chair and across the room to her intercom. Her fingers twitched eagerly as she punched in the code for her laboratory.
"Are you lazy excuses for technicians finished cleaning up in there, yet?" She endeavoured to make her tone official, but glee permeated her voice despite these efforts. "I would like to begin my research sometime today."
* * *
Tending to the Ajisa plants was almost as relaxing as a round of golf. Muuri pondered this as he bent to water yet another one of the fledgling green plants in his care. While as village elder - and indeed the elder of all the Nameks, now - his tasks did not include this action, he took pleasure in it nonetheless. He enjoyed teaching the children, sharing his wisdom with his people, but he needed to relax now and then, do what many of the younger men, even warriors were doing.
The serenity provided him with a clarity of the mind. While this was a quiet planet in general, children could be quite noisy at times. Such was simply the nature of the young. It was nice to have a getaway into complete silence. At least near silence, with normal village work - such as cleaning houses - going on behind him.
But the silence was not to last.
"Elder Muuri! Elder Muuri!" A shrill voice, unmistakably that of a child. With a sigh, he stood up from his work to face said child. Time to be the elder once again.
The child, Mollsc, if Muuri remembered correctly, veritably skidded to a stop in front of him, windmilling his arms to keep from falling over. The boy's face was tinted red with exertion, and sweat dropped from the tips of his antennae as he raggedly drew breath into his body.
All concern now, Muuri asked, "What is it, Mollsc? What has you so troubled?" When the boy opened his mouth to speak, Muuri halted him. "Calm yourself first. Catch your breath."
Mollsc nodded obediently, and forcibly slowed his breathing. He wiped a hand across his face before he allowed himself to begin. "Well, Elder Muuri . . . you see . . . it . . ."
Muuri frowned. He may have been a patient person, but no one came in such a rush if he had nothing important to say. Such a thing could try the nerves of even one such as he. "Just say it, Mollsc!"
"Dende and Scargo are missing!" the boy blurted out, much more loudly than he needed to, and Muuri winced at the volume - his ears were as sensitive as those of any Namek half his age.
"What?"
Mollsc wrung his hands. "Well, we were playing hide and seek outside the village . . . And well . . . We can't seem to find them . . ."
"Well, is it not the point to keep looking for them?" Muuri asked with an indulgent smile. What an excitable little one this was. "Sounds like the object of the game, to me."
This seemed to throw the boy off for a moment, but he regained his composure. Or what he'd had of it, anyway. "Yes, that's true . . But Dende was 'it', and the person who's 'it' isn't supposed to disappear. And we've been playing for hours. The game was over when we went to look . . ."
Muuri frowned, a little worried now. Dende wasn't the irresponsible type. He would never be too long at a game, and did not like to concern others without cause. And Scargo . . . Well, Scargo could easily lose track of time - and often did, in fact - but someone usually brought him back around within a reasonable amount of time. More often than not, it was Dende.
There was a special fondness in his heart for those particular two children. While they were not of his own progeny, as Saichourou was the sole Namek giving birth, he had raised the both of them since their births. Every village elder was entrusted with the safety of at least one of Saichourou's children, and he had been honoured enough to be entrusted with two. He had already failed them once, back on Old Nameksei, when Frieza had attacked their village. If something happened to them now . . .
"Did you see what direction either of them left in?" he asked, trying to keep a creeping hint of anxiousness out of his voice.
Mollsc shook his head. "No. Scargo and me both went in different directions, and I was long gone before Dende started moving."
No, no, of course the boy wouldn't have seen anything. How easily the rules of a simple children's game eluded him. He forced his own breath to calm. No sense in agitating the boy further. "Mollsc, come along with me. We are going to gather the village together to see what we can do about this."
He must have done a good job at controlling his voice, for the young child smiled in relief and hurried ahead of him to the village, calling out for everyone's attention.
Muuri hurried along behind him, no longer having to hide the sense of urgency that had almost overwhelmed him. Old age did not hinder his speed; worry was a powerful motivating factor, though he did try to convince himself that he was overreacting. But the concern would not disappear.
As a long-lived species, Nameks revered life in all its forms. Both the elderly and the young were treated with a high degree of respect. For the elder ones, it was a respect of having experience many of the joys and hardships that life had to offer. And for the young, it was a celebration of all the experiences that would follow them, for good or for ill, throughout their doubtlessly long lives.
Hopefully, this would not turn out to be a day of ill experience for Dende and Scargo.
* * *
At best, it was nothing more than a mere hamlet.
This was the only way that Pumice could think of to describe this tiny bastion of civilization. How any sane species could live with such a lack of technology . . . Well, who said that these creatures were sane, anyway? In his brief experience with them, they were all stark raving mad, and foolish to boot.
He hadn't been able to get very near the village though not from lack of trying. Every time he had gotten too close, one of the natives - who always of course had his back to him -- would suddenly perk up as if he'd heard something. Which it could not have, obviously; Pumice was an expert in moving silently. But in any case, the native would always turn around, clearly checking for something. Though the planet had pitifully little in the way of cover, he had always managed to duck out of sight. Behind a building, or one of the small plants they were growing row upon row . . . A difficult task perhaps, but not so much so for one who had been a scout as long as he.
Still, even he was not perfect. He must have made a sound in the fields outside the village, for one of the natives followed and actually managed to catch sight of him. The native had been most surprised at the discovery, and even more so as it watched Pumice's ki blast shoot toward it.
Disgusted, Pumice looked down. It hadn't been a clean shot, clear through the heart as he would have liked, but that was not his specialty. He was neither a warrior nor an assassin. He was a scout, and his combat abilities were somewhat limited. His strength lay in his stealth.
Thus there was more than one hole shot through the native, though they overlapped to almost appear as one. Purplish blood had sprayed out from the wounds and now lay splattered over its clothing. His sensitive ears could still hear the hiss from the ki blast sizzling through cloth and body tissue alike, and a slim trail of smoke continued to rise from the corpse.
He would have preferred not to do this. Oh, he cared nothing for the life of this creature, to be sure, but the other villagers were bound to find the body sooner or later. It quite ruined the goal of being discreet. He'd actually let something as pitiful as this ruin his job . . .
There were few options available to him. He could bury the body where it lay, but that would take a great deal of time that he did not have, and would increase his risk of detection. Same with destroying the body outright. Even if he did it the quick way, with one powerful blast, a dust cloud would rise up, and this close to a settlement, it would be noticed. So neither choice was very practical.
Neither was the only possibility that was entering his mind right now. Not quite as impractical as the former two, though it was less appealing. But seeing as he did not have much time to decide, he went ahead with it.
Bending down, he hefted the body over his shoulder. He did not stagger under the weight - much, at least. In life, the native had been rather thin and was probably light as well, but in death, it had become a little more hefty. Its fingers scraped along the ground behind him, as it was much taller than he. That much of the inconvenience was resolved the moment he took to the air.
Launching into flight was a little risky this close to a settlement, but it was one that he had to take. Occasionally, he checked below him and behind him - for if children of this species could fly, so surely the adults must, as well - to see if he was being pursued. Each time, his eyes saw nothing but the flat and boring landscape of the planet. He could actually be pleased by that. He was alone.
After several minutes of flying, he lowered himself to the ground. On either side of him rose tall bluffs, and a small lake lay not far away. This was as good of a place as any.
There was no need to waste time with burial or body destruction. Not a speck of another settlement was visible from the many miles around that Pumice could see. By the time the body was discovered, the mission would probably be over.
He bent down at the water's edge and scooped a few handfuls into his mouth to quench his thirst. The liquid was cool and sweet as it travelled down his throat. Well. There was something halfway decent about this pitiful world, after all. For this alone, he would almost hate to leave it. Almost. He held little in the way of foolish attachments to places. A waste of time, pure and simple.
His task finished and his body refreshed, Pumice took to the air once more, making a sharp turn to head back in the direction of the ship.
CHAPTER FOUR: A Little Insight
This had to be one of the most boring missions he had ever been assigned.
Commander Basalt paced around the bridge, hands folded behind his back, face set in an expression that caused all those present to give him a wide berth. His steps were loud and harsh, well-suited to his mood. He was bored, and whenever he was bored, he also became angry.
While he could have gone out with the scout patrols - such was included in his duties, in fact - he steadfastly refused to do so. It was beneath him. A scout though he was, he was deserving of more. Far more. Much better things than that to which he had been forced to become accustomed.
A scout was a highly necessary, but not highly esteemed job in the empire. Scouts, even the best of them, like he was, were treated like rubbish. Largely ignored by the elites, laughed at by the soldiers . . . It was a demeaning, embarrassing life. He had the right to something better than that.
He turned his palm up, gathering a ball of pulsating violet ki. The power felt warm and wonderful, yet at the same time bitter in his hands. There were soldiers in the army weaker than he, and yet he was somehow not qualified to serve. Oh, he knew why. His people, the Kazangan-jin had always been a race that was not extraordinarily gifted in terms of power. While they were not entirely weak if they chose not to be, theirs was largely a technological society. More brains than brawn. Thus, when the planet was taken over by the empire, several years before he was born, they were considered far more suitable as scientists or scouts than as warriors.
Basalt closed his palm, extinguishing the ball of ki. Stereotypes were difficult to overcome. But there was a way, had to be a way, and so help him, he was going to find it.
"Bah," he spat. Deciding to give his steps a purpose besides wearing a tread into the ship's floor, he headed for the exit of the bridge. None present questioned him, did not dare. After all, he was the commander.
The world outside was as equally unstimulating as the mission itself. Nothing but flat plains of grass waving in a soft breeze, placid greenish waters, and the occasional bluff or canyon. Perhaps some would find it a paradise, a good planet upon which to vacation. To him, an undeveloped land was nothing more than a waste of space. There were likely no intelligent life forms here, for he had not yet seen any true signs of civilization . . .
No, that was not true, he amended. A few hours earlier, his main patrol - the one he would have accompanied should he have decided to lower himself to such a thing - had evidently stumbled upon a pair of intelligent natives. Two young children, as he had heard described. He supposed that he would have to see them sometime, for it was prudent to discover information from what could be a future enemy.
"Commander Basalt," came a voice from behind him. He turned, coming face to face with the mottled purple and orange visage of one of his patrolmen. Pumice, he believed the man's name to be.
Basalt sighed in annoyance. "What is it?"
"The captain from Tegakari is on the hailing frequency," the scout answered. "He is waiting for you to make the preliminary report on the planet's status."
Basalt would have grumbled something derogatory about having to constantly report to superiors - a protocol more often inflicted upon scouts than upon soldiers - but he would not allow himself to appear sulky in front of an underling. "Very well, " he said, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes . . . And when they reached the top of their arc, something grabbed their attention, and he paused. "What is that?"
He didn't have a good vantage point, as the object of his curiosity was somewhat high in the air. It appeared to be a quite small person, most likely a child, with green skin and he thought that he could discern a pair of antennae on its forehead. One of the natives, floating above the ship, though completely unaware of it; Basalt's ship, like most used by scouts, was equipped with advanced cloaking technology so as to avoid premature detection. Or detection at all.
Another child glided over to meet the first, and the two hung in the air, clearly having some sort of conversation. His mind working, Basalt frowned. Those creatures looked vaguely familiar somehow, but he could not place them.
After a moment, the two children flew off together, soon mere specks in the distance.
"They look like the ones we caught, Commander," Pumice supplied. "More of the native children."
"Looking for their companions, no doubt," Basalt agreed, taking his eyes off the sky. "Follow them."
Pumice blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. They're going back to wherever their home is, so we may be able to get a better read on what we're up against. Now do as I say."
Basalt smiled in satisfaction as Pumice flew off in the same direction as the children. Perhaps things would become more interesting now. He knew that he had seen the native species somewhere before, and something nagged at him about it. Something extremely important, though he did not know what.
Suddenly not so bored and moody, he headed back to the ship to make his report.
* * *
Green text rapidly scrolled down the computer screen, and went on and on . . . Yes, there indeed was a wealth of information here, but unfortunately, as Doctor Gneiss discovered, it did not pertain to her subject. She could tell after reading only a few sentences that it was not what she was looking for. Not at all discouraged - patience was a very important virtue for any scientist to possess - she continued on with her search to find out the next possible species that her newest subjects might be.
The problem was, like insect-based species, gastropod-based species were rather common in the universe. Thus it was difficult to find statistics on any specific one. And there was every possibility that there were none at all on her new subjects. Which she would almost prefer, to tell the truth. There were few better thrills than being the first to study a new species.
Her current search also proved to be a dead end, and she simply went on to the next. She scanned the first few paragraphs, and found some promise. Reading further, the description still matched.
"Well, it looks like we have a winner," she said, almost disappointed to find that she would not be pioneering the research after all. "Nameks. How strange; I thought they went extinct when Lord Frieza destroyed their planet." It was only common sense to assume such a thing. Species did not typically outlive their home planets unless they had advanced space travel technology. Something the Nameks did not have, according to this report.
Doctor Gneiss continued to read, though she did not find a great deal of interest. Most of the information dealt with social structure and technology level. But a fascinating detail proved to be present, and it caught her eye.
"Powerful regenerative capabilities." That would be quite the area to study. Perhaps she would find a way to make the empire's regeneration tanks more efficient. Add that to the fact that this was just about the only piece of physiological data on the species, leaving her to discover the rest . . .
A gurgling laugh bubbled forth from her lips. She felt very nearly giddy as she bounced out of her chair and across the room to her intercom. Her fingers twitched eagerly as she punched in the code for her laboratory.
"Are you lazy excuses for technicians finished cleaning up in there, yet?" She endeavoured to make her tone official, but glee permeated her voice despite these efforts. "I would like to begin my research sometime today."
* * *
Tending to the Ajisa plants was almost as relaxing as a round of golf. Muuri pondered this as he bent to water yet another one of the fledgling green plants in his care. While as village elder - and indeed the elder of all the Nameks, now - his tasks did not include this action, he took pleasure in it nonetheless. He enjoyed teaching the children, sharing his wisdom with his people, but he needed to relax now and then, do what many of the younger men, even warriors were doing.
The serenity provided him with a clarity of the mind. While this was a quiet planet in general, children could be quite noisy at times. Such was simply the nature of the young. It was nice to have a getaway into complete silence. At least near silence, with normal village work - such as cleaning houses - going on behind him.
But the silence was not to last.
"Elder Muuri! Elder Muuri!" A shrill voice, unmistakably that of a child. With a sigh, he stood up from his work to face said child. Time to be the elder once again.
The child, Mollsc, if Muuri remembered correctly, veritably skidded to a stop in front of him, windmilling his arms to keep from falling over. The boy's face was tinted red with exertion, and sweat dropped from the tips of his antennae as he raggedly drew breath into his body.
All concern now, Muuri asked, "What is it, Mollsc? What has you so troubled?" When the boy opened his mouth to speak, Muuri halted him. "Calm yourself first. Catch your breath."
Mollsc nodded obediently, and forcibly slowed his breathing. He wiped a hand across his face before he allowed himself to begin. "Well, Elder Muuri . . . you see . . . it . . ."
Muuri frowned. He may have been a patient person, but no one came in such a rush if he had nothing important to say. Such a thing could try the nerves of even one such as he. "Just say it, Mollsc!"
"Dende and Scargo are missing!" the boy blurted out, much more loudly than he needed to, and Muuri winced at the volume - his ears were as sensitive as those of any Namek half his age.
"What?"
Mollsc wrung his hands. "Well, we were playing hide and seek outside the village . . . And well . . . We can't seem to find them . . ."
"Well, is it not the point to keep looking for them?" Muuri asked with an indulgent smile. What an excitable little one this was. "Sounds like the object of the game, to me."
This seemed to throw the boy off for a moment, but he regained his composure. Or what he'd had of it, anyway. "Yes, that's true . . But Dende was 'it', and the person who's 'it' isn't supposed to disappear. And we've been playing for hours. The game was over when we went to look . . ."
Muuri frowned, a little worried now. Dende wasn't the irresponsible type. He would never be too long at a game, and did not like to concern others without cause. And Scargo . . . Well, Scargo could easily lose track of time - and often did, in fact - but someone usually brought him back around within a reasonable amount of time. More often than not, it was Dende.
There was a special fondness in his heart for those particular two children. While they were not of his own progeny, as Saichourou was the sole Namek giving birth, he had raised the both of them since their births. Every village elder was entrusted with the safety of at least one of Saichourou's children, and he had been honoured enough to be entrusted with two. He had already failed them once, back on Old Nameksei, when Frieza had attacked their village. If something happened to them now . . .
"Did you see what direction either of them left in?" he asked, trying to keep a creeping hint of anxiousness out of his voice.
Mollsc shook his head. "No. Scargo and me both went in different directions, and I was long gone before Dende started moving."
No, no, of course the boy wouldn't have seen anything. How easily the rules of a simple children's game eluded him. He forced his own breath to calm. No sense in agitating the boy further. "Mollsc, come along with me. We are going to gather the village together to see what we can do about this."
He must have done a good job at controlling his voice, for the young child smiled in relief and hurried ahead of him to the village, calling out for everyone's attention.
Muuri hurried along behind him, no longer having to hide the sense of urgency that had almost overwhelmed him. Old age did not hinder his speed; worry was a powerful motivating factor, though he did try to convince himself that he was overreacting. But the concern would not disappear.
As a long-lived species, Nameks revered life in all its forms. Both the elderly and the young were treated with a high degree of respect. For the elder ones, it was a respect of having experience many of the joys and hardships that life had to offer. And for the young, it was a celebration of all the experiences that would follow them, for good or for ill, throughout their doubtlessly long lives.
Hopefully, this would not turn out to be a day of ill experience for Dende and Scargo.
* * *
At best, it was nothing more than a mere hamlet.
This was the only way that Pumice could think of to describe this tiny bastion of civilization. How any sane species could live with such a lack of technology . . . Well, who said that these creatures were sane, anyway? In his brief experience with them, they were all stark raving mad, and foolish to boot.
He hadn't been able to get very near the village though not from lack of trying. Every time he had gotten too close, one of the natives - who always of course had his back to him -- would suddenly perk up as if he'd heard something. Which it could not have, obviously; Pumice was an expert in moving silently. But in any case, the native would always turn around, clearly checking for something. Though the planet had pitifully little in the way of cover, he had always managed to duck out of sight. Behind a building, or one of the small plants they were growing row upon row . . . A difficult task perhaps, but not so much so for one who had been a scout as long as he.
Still, even he was not perfect. He must have made a sound in the fields outside the village, for one of the natives followed and actually managed to catch sight of him. The native had been most surprised at the discovery, and even more so as it watched Pumice's ki blast shoot toward it.
Disgusted, Pumice looked down. It hadn't been a clean shot, clear through the heart as he would have liked, but that was not his specialty. He was neither a warrior nor an assassin. He was a scout, and his combat abilities were somewhat limited. His strength lay in his stealth.
Thus there was more than one hole shot through the native, though they overlapped to almost appear as one. Purplish blood had sprayed out from the wounds and now lay splattered over its clothing. His sensitive ears could still hear the hiss from the ki blast sizzling through cloth and body tissue alike, and a slim trail of smoke continued to rise from the corpse.
He would have preferred not to do this. Oh, he cared nothing for the life of this creature, to be sure, but the other villagers were bound to find the body sooner or later. It quite ruined the goal of being discreet. He'd actually let something as pitiful as this ruin his job . . .
There were few options available to him. He could bury the body where it lay, but that would take a great deal of time that he did not have, and would increase his risk of detection. Same with destroying the body outright. Even if he did it the quick way, with one powerful blast, a dust cloud would rise up, and this close to a settlement, it would be noticed. So neither choice was very practical.
Neither was the only possibility that was entering his mind right now. Not quite as impractical as the former two, though it was less appealing. But seeing as he did not have much time to decide, he went ahead with it.
Bending down, he hefted the body over his shoulder. He did not stagger under the weight - much, at least. In life, the native had been rather thin and was probably light as well, but in death, it had become a little more hefty. Its fingers scraped along the ground behind him, as it was much taller than he. That much of the inconvenience was resolved the moment he took to the air.
Launching into flight was a little risky this close to a settlement, but it was one that he had to take. Occasionally, he checked below him and behind him - for if children of this species could fly, so surely the adults must, as well - to see if he was being pursued. Each time, his eyes saw nothing but the flat and boring landscape of the planet. He could actually be pleased by that. He was alone.
After several minutes of flying, he lowered himself to the ground. On either side of him rose tall bluffs, and a small lake lay not far away. This was as good of a place as any.
There was no need to waste time with burial or body destruction. Not a speck of another settlement was visible from the many miles around that Pumice could see. By the time the body was discovered, the mission would probably be over.
He bent down at the water's edge and scooped a few handfuls into his mouth to quench his thirst. The liquid was cool and sweet as it travelled down his throat. Well. There was something halfway decent about this pitiful world, after all. For this alone, he would almost hate to leave it. Almost. He held little in the way of foolish attachments to places. A waste of time, pure and simple.
His task finished and his body refreshed, Pumice took to the air once more, making a sharp turn to head back in the direction of the ship.