Then disappearing in a sudden burst of flame that expanded instantly into a white cloud. Something black arced out and down towards the ground, falling no more than a mile away from him. It struck and sent up a cloud of dust just as the rumbling sound of the aerial explosion finally reached his ears.
Brion stood slowly and looked towards the settling dust. This had been too close by far. Was it an accident or had the appearance of the plane something to do with him? Impossible, he was being paranoid, it was just a coincidence that the incident had occurred so close to him. But if it were just a coincidence, why did he have the cold touch of fear when he thought of approaching the wreckage? His sense of survival wanted him to stay away. But for the sake of this mission he had to investigate the site. The pilot’s body might be there, or evidence of some kind. He really had no choice. The dust cloud had settled now and the plain was featureless again. But he had noted the direction. Without further thought he started towards it.
The crater was a dark blotch in the sea of grass. Brion approached it cautiously, crawling the last few yards on his belly. When he peered slowly over the edge he could see crushed metal at the bottom of the deep crater. It was one of the aircraft’s wings. There were no identity markings on it that he could see, even when he dropped down beside it. The surface of the wreckage was still warm and he moved around it gingerly. Fragments of metal had been torn away by the impact and he turned them over with his knife, one by one. His diligence was rewarded finally when he found a twisted identity plate. With the lettering still visible!
However there was one thing wrong with this. Although the letters were clear, the few words between the numbers were in a language he had never seen before. It was a clue he could not unravel at the moment yet it could not be ignored. He considered prying the plate off, then realized that carrying any metal with him, no matter how small the fragment, would be foolhardy. In the end he used the point of his knife to scratch a copy onto his waterbottle. He had a record of it at least.
The investigation had taken him away from the lake, so when he started walking again he angled back towards its shore. He could see at least three herds of beasts grazing close to the water and he moved slowly in their direction. His water was gone now and it was getting late; he would refill it where the creatures had gone to drink. Some of the open forest pushed out into the plain ahead. It must have served as cover for predators because sudden panic ran through the grazing herd that he was following. Some of them even stampeded in his direction and he stood still as they rushed by. Their long legs gave them a good turn of speed and they were past in a moment, followed closely by the younger and slower members of the herd. One of the last of the creatures was a heavyset male with a spread of barbed horns. It shook these menacingly in Brion’s direction, then trundled on when he made no threatening motions. When they had all passed Brion backtracked them through the paths they had trampled in the grass, stepping around the streams of pungent dung.
He moved very warily, his knife in his hand, looking in all directions and listening keenly at the same time. Stopping instantly when he saw a dark form on the ground ahead, half concealed by the high grass.
It was a dead herbivore, its head towards him, mouth still gaping in the panic of death. Its killer was nowhere to be seen. Carefully, a step at a time, Brion moved forward until he could see that nothing was concealed in the grass near the animal. The creature that had killed it must be long gone. Brion still kept his knife drawn as he circled around the body. The creature’s throat had been torn open, very cleanly too; he couldn’t have done it any better with his own knife.
He stopped, frozen. The wound was too clean. And so was the larger wound on the beast’s flank. Not a wound really, but an excision. One of the rear legs was gone. Cut off cleanly at the joint.
No animal had done this with teeth or claws.
It could only have been done by the kind of animal that carried a very sharp knife.
Brion looked up from the kill towards the concealing darkness of the nearby copse of trees. Were there eyes watching him from concealment there? Was there an intelligent life form on this planet? Or could they be human eyes?
6: Alien Encounter
This was a time for thought, not action. As soon as Brion saw the cleanly cut flesh he knew that. With deliberate motions he slipped his knife back into its sheath on his hip, then just as slowly lowered himself to a sitting position on the ground. Looking out towards the lake like this he was not obviously watching the grove of trees but he could see it clearly out of the corner of his eyes. The only motion was the nodding of the grass before the wind, the same wind that was ruffling the surface of the water.
Intelligent creatures had killed the creature at his side. Men, or aliens, with knives, who had butchered the body then fled with the meat. Whoever they were must have seen him coming and hurried to the safety of the trees. They were probably there now, watching him. He relaxed his muscles and tried to reach out and make contact with them, but his empathetic sense was a crude tool at any distance; he was aware of people’s emotions when they were close by, but the sensitivity faded quickly as they moved away. He concentrated now, reaching out. Something, a living creature. That was all he could tell about it. It was so dimly felt that it could be anything, a human being or perhaps an alien, or even the simple awareness of an animal like the one lying dead before him. It was calm sensation, whatever it was; perhaps it would be easier to read if it were made clearer and stronger.
Without warning Brion suddenly sprang high into the air, shrieking wildly as he jumped. Dropping back to the ground he began to shuffle around the animal’s body, shouting aloud as he did. He made one complete circle then eased himself down to a sitting position on the ground again, smiling cheerfully to himself.
Oh yes, there was something out there all right. And not an alien life form or one of the local reptiles. The response had been that of a human being one who had been very startled when Brion had suddenly lept up and screamed aloud. There was a single person there, a man, watching him, unseen behind the concealing foliage of the trees. Possessed by fear. That was the emotion he had projected at the sudden sound. He was afraid of Brion.
Despite his overriding fear, the man had to be contacted. But just how could this be accomplished? Brion’s eyes were focused on the carcass beside him. This might provide a way. As unappetizing as the flesh of this creature appeared, with its thick green blood, it must be edible by human beings. Because the hiding man was human, that fact was as unarguable as his human emotions. He had slaughtered the animal for food, but had fled with only a single limb when Brion had appeared. A friendly gesture of some kind was in order.
Brion carved through the hip joint of the remaining rear leg, severing it cleanly from the body. He picked it up and carried it extended before him so it could be clearly seen, then he walked slowly towards the trees. Being careful not to move in the direction of the hidden observer. When he reached the first tree a single slash severed a thick branch and, then, after making an incision behind the leg tendon, he impaled the joint on its end.
Step one. If the watcher took the meat it meant they had opened communication of a sort. This would be a good moment to refill his waterbottle. The animals had trodden paths to the lakeside and he followed them to the shore, pushing his way out through the reeds until the water reached his waist. It was clear and unmuddied here and, after tasting it, he filled the bottle. The sun was nearing the horizon when he returned. A flock of scavenging flying lizards was perched on the corpse, tearing at the flesh with their needle-fanged jaws. They reluctantly flapped off, screaming shrilly, when he came close. The sun was low on the horizon and he had to shield his eyes with his hand as he looked into it. The haunch of meat was gone but the hidden watcher was still there. Now all that Brion could do was wait. But not near the dead animal. That would not be too wise. The scavengers still circled above him, shrieking continuously, and would surely draw other and larger scavengers to the kill. The trees should offer him some protection. He went slowly to the end of the copse furthest from the man who was watching him, his movements clear in the failing light.