The Tejano Conflict (7 page)

“We haven't had one kill any humans for more than twelve years, this was quite a shock.”

Kay nodded. Humans were much more concerned with their own kind dying than most other intelligent species.

“Anyway, the protocol is to find and dispatch such rogues. For a while, we tried catching and relocating them; we tried drugs; in the end, nothing seemed to settle them down. Zookeepers were at risk, like that. So now, we eliminate them.

“This is such a rare event,” she continued. “And since the animal has to die, the, uh, powers that be decided that there should be some benefit to the park, so the right to hunt and take such bears is auctioned off to the highest bidder. The winning bid, as I'm sure you know, is generally . . . quite high.”

The woman looked at Kay, and the unasked questions lay between them:

How did a Vastalimi come to be here? How are you able to afford this?

Kay let them lie. Formentara had told her there was a hunting fee, and zhe had paid it, as a gift. Formentara had not mentioned an amount.

Humans were also overly concerned about money. Kay didn't worry about that. She had enough for her needs, and her needs were mostly provided by CFI, so past that? What was the point?

“Um. Anyway, this is map sig where we most recently spotted his spoor. We haven't gotten a visual on our parksat, but the area is heavily wooded, and we don't use pradar or IR much, too expensive for our budget.”

Kay nodded.

“If you find him and kill him, use this locator, and we'll come and collect the corpse.”

She held out a thumb-sized lozenge.

Kay took it.

“What, uh, kind of weapon system will you be using? We recommend at least 10mm Hoarse Whisper loads in rifles; ten-gauge smoothbore with plus-P rifled slugs; or .50 GR in handcannon, but that only if you are expert with a sidearm.”

Kay smiled. She raised one hand and snapped the claws out with an audible
snick!

“I'll be using these,” she said.

Kay had gotten fairly good at reading human expressions during her years among them. This one was a mix of shock and amazement.

“You're kidding!” the woman said, confirming that.

“No. The bear is larger and stronger, but I am much faster and with far superior intelligence. I have seen vids of these creatures, read what is known about the way they fight and take prey. I am prepared for what it can do, while it has no experience of my kind. The advantage is mine, by far.”

“One misstep, and it will swat you dead.”

“I will strive to avoid taking that particular step.”

The warden shook her head. “You signed the waiver.”

“I did. My responsibility, not yours.”

– – – – – –

Jo, on her way to see Rags, ran into Formentara, on hir way to some kind of conference at a major university in a place called Woomera.

The heat of the days here was muggy, the humidity high, making for a fast sweat that didn't want to evaporate from skin or clothes.

Jo said, “Kay has left on her bear hunt.”

Formentara nodded. “Good.”

“Thank you for that.”

Zhe shrugged. “She needs to hunt. Not much of that going on on Earth anymore, but there is some.”

“You paid for it.”

“So? I have money.”

Jo knew that. Formentara had created several commercially successful augs and had royalties from those; nobody knew for sure how wealthy zhe was, but zhe certainly wasn't poor even though there was nothing about hir that spoke to having wealth.

“I poked around. I understand that the previous bear-hunting license issued in such a situation cost more than nine hundred thousand ND.”

Formentara's smile was small and almost reflexive. “I wouldn't know about that one.”

“If I had to guess, I'd say that the cost of Kay's hunt would be more than that, given the rarity, plus inflation and all in the years since.”

Zhe shrugged again.

“Christus, you paid a
million noodle
for Kay to risk getting killed by one of the largest predators still allowed on Earth?”

“Million and a half,” zhe said, “since you obviously want to know. You worried that she'll get killed?”

Jo considered it for a few seconds. “Not really, no.”

“Then what the hell? It's only money, and it'll make her happy.”

Jo laughed. “You are something else.”

“Don't I know it,” zhe said. “My job is to take care of my team.” Zhe paused. “I have to run. My shuttle leaves in an hour. The locals have need of my specialized knowledge. I might even learn something in return.”

Zhe looked happy at the prospect.

Jo smiled and nodded. “Have fun.”

“I always do.”

Formentara headed for hir transport.

There would be a six-person covert ops team going with hir, and others fore and aft. Once a war was in play, it was a good idea to protect your assets. Technically, nobody was supposed to bother people away from the site of a battle, but then again, technically, Em wasn't supposed to be dead, either. Better safe than not, and Formentara rated the protection. It was possible zhe might not know how thick it was, but knowing hir, zhe probably did know. Not much got past Formentara if zhe wanted to bother tracking it.

Anybody who blinked at hir funny on hir trip was going to be made unhappy about that in a hurry.

Jo hoped Kay would enjoy her hunt.

In Cutter's office, with glasses of premium bourbon over ice wafting a delicious odor into the cool air, Gramps said, “What are we going to do about Junior?”

Cutter shook his head, sipped at his drink.
Ah.

He allowed himself one glass a day, and the stuff was passing expensive though that wasn't the reason he drank but one. “We could kill him, but that probably won't help at this point.”

“Heartwarming thought, though.” Gramps sipped his own liquor and smiled at the taste.

Cutter nodded.

“He'll be looking for a way to stick it to us,” Gramps said, “and if he can't find one, he'll make one up. Not a matter of ‘if,' but ‘when.'”

“Yep. My capital in the GU Army is mostly pocket change these days. I don't have enough clout there to get somebody to pull his leash tight.”

Gramps said, “Hmm. Maybe that's not the only way to go.”

Cutter looked at him.

“Let me reach out to some people,” he said. “The military isn't the only power in the galaxy with a long reach. Maybe we can find something to help.”

Cutter nodded again. “Okay. Meanwhile, how is this op shaping up?”

“So far, so good. Aside from losing Em, nobody has taken any hostile action on our recons. We have built up a pretty good model of the area, I'm talking to Zoree Wood's intelligence folks, hardware deliveries are on schedule. Jo is at the port collecting troops and supplies. Kay is out in the Alaskan wilderness hunting a rogue bear. Gunny is at the range, practicing with her shiny new pistol to beat you.”

Cutter grinned. He had an innate talent when it came to CQ combat involving arms, something he cultivated but couldn't claim credit for: He was a born shooter. Gunny, who trained more than anybody he knew, was the best pure shooter in the unit, maybe on any single planet at a given time, but he consistently beat her in competitions. He couldn't claim credit for it, but he enjoyed it anyhow . . .

“That's not a bad idea. Maybe I'll go to the range and program the attackers with Junior's face.”

“Don't. If you do have to shoot him later, I'll have to erase those records; it's a lot of trouble.”

– – – – – –

At the range, Gunny recharged the new toy's triple-stack magazine with thirty-six rounds of practice loads. The pistol was a 4.4mm Mead Caseless semiauto, ultrahigh-velocity. It had a ten-centimeter barrel, and it was a tack-driver with combat-match ammo. It would keep them in a five-centimeter circle at fifty meters all day long, if you didn't sneeze when you pulled the trigger. She had tuned the capacitors to competition grade, polished the action so it was as slippery as No-Frik lube, installed aftermarket springs and a D-steel button-rifled barrel. She'd put five hundred rounds through it without a misfire, and it was as good a handgun as you could find anywhere. It should be, it had cost her enough.

So far, she had cut almost a quarter second off her best shoot times, and that might be enough so she could finally take Rags . . .

Think of the devil.

“Gunny. I see you found a way to spend your money. I must be paying you too much.”

“Like hell. I had to save up for months to get this.”

She handed him the Mead.

He ejected the magazine, then the chambered round, inspected the weapon.

“Nice. Carbon-fiber grips, but not custom-fitted?”

“Ah might have to shoot with my weak hand. Or lend it to somebody in a hurry.”

He nodded. He handed it back to her.

She reloaded the piece. “You come to play?”

He patted his own holstered sidearm, a Willis 4.4 double-stack thirty-rounder. Until recently, that's the same model Gunny had carried. “Got practice rounds loaded. You want me to give you a head start?”

“Fuck you.”

He grinned. “Set 'em up.”

Gunny waved her hand back and forth over the reader, and the range's computer lit the scenario. Four attackers each, and judged on time and placement of the rounds. If you got the same score for hits, then it went to the clock to determine the winner.

In a straight, slow-timed target match, Gunny would beat Rags all day every day. But when things heated up, something in his wiring gave him an advantage. It was like he could read the future; he anticipated random movement and shot where the target was going to be. Gunny had never seen anybody else who could do that the way he did.

Sometimes it wasn't by much that he got her. A quarter second here, eighth there. If the new piece could help her shave that much off her time? Maybe she could beat him. Or at least play him to a draw.

As goals went, it wasn't so much, but it was at the top of Gunny's list.

“Ready?”

“Anytime.”

They both had holstered their weapons. Gunny took a deep breath. “Go!” she told the computer.

Four men with carbines popped into electronic reality in front of her five meters away. She pulled her pistol, a smooth, fast move, practiced tens of thousands of times, and started shooting, one round each,
pop-pop-pop-pop!

Her four attackers fell, each of them head-shot. That felt clean; it was a good run—

The computer's counter lit up downrange. Same score on the hits, but—

The son of a bitch beat her: 0.127ths of a second. A fast blink.

Fuck!

She holstered the pistol and waved her hand over the reader.

– – – – – –

The People hunted by sight and scent, and though Kay couldn't see the bear, she could smell him. It was distinctive, the odor, potent, and tracking him would not be a problem if what looked like threatening rain held off. Rain cleared the air, held the scent close to the ground, made it harder to locate. Her nostrils worked fine, but The People were sight-hunters more than sniffers.

That would just make it more of a challenge, which was the point, was it not?

Kay stepped into the forest and opened up her senses to the new hunting ground.

The sights, sounds, smells, the tactile feel of the dried needles and leaves under her feet, the temperature of the air on her fur, they all blended together, and she became one with the place. Yes, she had been born on a world light-years from here, but she had hunted on other planets, and while they were all different, they were all also the same.

The chirps of the birds, chattering of small mammals in the trees and in burrows, insects buzzing, the wind creaking the wood and stirring the leaves, the sound of her own heartbeat, filled her ears.

The many smells, of the plants, the animals, the warm ground, seeped into her nostrils.

The dappling of the light through the tree crowns bathed her fur . . .

She soaked it all in. Closed her eyes, took a deep breath, let it escape. Ready.

That way . . .

– – – – – –

She circled upwind, to allow the beast to catch her scent, then looped back around, downwind, and waited.

What would he think when he sniffed and smelled her? She would be alien to him, and how would he react? Would he come to investigate? Or move away, beset with caution? Would he dismiss her altogether?

The bear was the top natural predator here, save for humans, and he wouldn't be afraid of her. And since he had killed humans? Probably wouldn't worry overmuch about them, either. Other than a bigger, fiercer bear, there was nothing for him to fear, claw-to-claw. He would be secure in his strength and speed.

After a few minutes, the bear's scent told her he hadn't moved. So, not curious, nor afraid, continuing his business.

Good. Time to move closer. Let him see her . . .

– – – – – –

This close, the bear's musk was thick, and since she was approaching downwind, he could no longer smell her. She moved with care, slipping through the big trees, using them for cover. They were a few hundred years old, the larger trees, too big around to encircle with her arms.

She was eighty meters away, still concealed. The bear was feeding on something; she could hear the cracks of small bones being crunched. Before she could step out and let him see her, the crunching stopped. Was he done? Or had he somehow sensed her even though he couldn't see nor smell her? Sometimes, prey knew they were being watched; some innate, undefined sense warned them.

She moved from behind the tree.

The bear was looking right at her. He had known she was there.

He was on all fours, the remainder of his meal scattered on the ground, some medium-sized animal.

He moved his head from side to side, lifting it, sniffing at the air.

She knew that he had a much better sense of smell than she did though his vision was poorer, about that of a human, and he could hear better than they. At short distances, a bear could sprint faster than a man could run though maybe not as fast as a Vastalimi.

The bear stopped sniffing and watched her. Then it raised itself up onto its hind legs, continuing to look at her.

A display to make himself look more dangerous? Or a way to see better? Both?

The bear dropped back to all fours.

Kay stood as still as a statue.

A few seconds passed. The bear looked away from her, back at what it had been eating. Then it turned and padded off. In no great hurry, but not dawdling, either.

Kay smiled. He was not showing fear, but caution. Good.

– – – – – –

Intelligent beings who did not hunt usually did not understand how prey behaved when it perceived a threat. They expected that an animal beholding something that might kill and eat it would flee as fast and as far as it could. That seldom happened. What usually took place was that the prey would move a short ways, out of quick reach, then stop to assess the situation. If the hunter didn't move to follow, as often as not, it seemed almost as if the prey forgot it was there. If the hunter was downwind and still, prey would often resume whatever it had been doing.

There were humans who hunted. Kay had met a few, including one who took other predators armed only with a spear or blades. She respected that; the prey had a chance of winning, the human could be killed.

There was no honor in hunting unarmed prey with a weapon that could take it from a kilometer away. If you were seeking meat, and that was the only consideration? Fine, use a gun. But there was no challenge in that. If you were smarter and better armed?
Pah.

The real challenge was to hunt prey that was as smart as you were and better armed. That meant doing something highly illegal though there were sometimes arrangements made between hunters who wanted the risk. On Vast, where challenges to the death were not infrequent, few needed that spur, but she knew of places where that was not so.

She had known those who had hunted or been hunted by their own kind. They claimed it was the most exciting thing that could be done.

The bear was nearly two hundred meters ahead of her, about to break out of the woods into a clearing that bordered a shallow river. She had kept downwind of the bear, and taking him there would be harder—in the woods, the trees could be used to her advantage. She could dodge around and behind them, and while the bear could climb, she could climb faster and easily change trees, while it would be too heavy to do that readily. On the flats, she would have to depend on speed and agility alone if she elected to do claw-to-claw battle. Trickier.

The smell of the water grew stronger, but it was not just the river; the threatened rain had arrived, drops beginning to patter down into the treetops.

She slowed, as the rain grew stronger, the noise quickly masking other sounds. The bear's scent washed from the air. She couldn't see him, smell him, nor could she hear him moving, either.

She slowed. Something was not right . . .

The rain beat down, harder. The trees stopped some of it, but the light grew dimmer, and the rain itself was heavy enough to obscure vision.

The bear was watching her.

She knew it. Where was he, that he could see her?

She moved slowly, only her head swiveling, as she scanned the trees ahead and to her sides.

Behind her—

Now she heard him, as he ran, splashing through the fresh puddles, feet thudding on the wet ground. She could feel the earth vibrating under his strides, six hundred kilos of carnivore in full charge—

—She resisted the urge to scurry up the tree next to her but, instead, pivoted, marked the running creature, then darted to her left, putting a larger tree between herself and the bear. That done, she backed away, out of his sight—

—He didn't roar, and he was close enough that she could hear him breathing now, panting, the ground shaking more—

—The bear passed the covering tree, saw her, tried to adjust his direction. He skidded on the wet ground, scrabbled to turn, and his claws, as long as her fingers and claws combined, dug gouts of dirt and mud from the earth, spattering it in all directions—

—He slewed and dug his way toward her, and when he was five meters away and regaining speed, she leaped to her left and high, caught the bark of the fir tree with all her claws extended, and shoved off as the bear tried to stop, but slid past her perch—

—She came down behind him, hit the muddy ground, and swiped at his right rear leg, hard, trying to catch a tendon. Her claws cut bloody furrows into the fur and flesh, but too high; she didn't feel the snag of heavy connective tissue—

—Now he roared, an ear-smiting scream of outrage. He spun around, faster than she expected, and she backed up in a hurry as he swung a clawed paw that would have broken her spine had it landed, missing by a few centimeters—

—Kay jinked to the right, clawed her way up another tree, four meters, five—

—The bear came up, jumped, and his claws tore the tree bark just under her right foot, gouging out a chunk of the underlying wood as thick as her hand from the bole—

—She leaped, over the rampant bear, to the tree to his right, gained another meter, then sprang for the ground—