The air was filled with hissing and boasting. Chieftain Kahu was aghast. Until that moment he had been unaware of the seabird’s real intent.
“The seabirds from the future are mercenaries,” Arnie said. “They are piratical. They are a military nation of great intelligence. It is not to be wondered at that their whole purpose in life is conquest. Thousands of years of living with man has given them an accumulation of greater cunning, greater hunting skills, greater practice in killing. To you they will seem to move faster than any bird should move. They will seem like terminators of supernatural strength. Keep in formation now. Neke neke.”
It took nerves of steel to fly back and forth over that unholy sea. Some of the young hawks under Chieftain Kahu’s wing were sweating and beginning to break under the pressure. One of them let out a squeal of suppressed fear, drawing the attention of an alert seagull.
“Who goes there?” he called.
“At ease, Corporal,” Arnie called back. “We’ve just been to the celebration at the fortress. Our general drank too much and is a little under the weather.”
Arnie was right. The seabirds suspected nothing. After all, who’d have thought that land-bound birds would have the audacity or courage to venture out over the sea? As they continued their journey, one aspect of the survey made Arnie curious. Between one of the offshore islands and the coast there was a small area of sea that was devoid of seagulls.
“What place is that?” he asked Chieftain Kahu.
“No birds ever go there,” Kahu said, wrinkling his face.
“Why not?”
“A foul-smelling substance rises to the surface,” Kahu explained. “It is black and viscous, and any bird that alights on it is immediately coated with it. Once trapped in the mire, none can escape. Even to inhale the substance can be poisonous: it can make you lose consciousness, fall into the sea and drown.”
Curious, Arnie flew over to the area to investigate. As soon as he smelt the toxic fumes, he knew what the substance was: oil, bubbling up from coastal vents. “Hey, hey, hey,” Arnie exclaimed. “The folks at Tuapa are not going to believe me when I get back and tell them about this! And Lucas’s garage is right in the middle of it.”
The survey was completed. Ruru confirmed the tally.
“Now give me the odds,” Arnie said.
“The seabirds outnumber us at four to one.”
“As high as that?” Kahu asked.
“It could be worse,” Arnie said. “But we’d better keep this information to ourselves. Let’s not worry our landbirds unduly. Chieftain Ruru, please return with the statistics to Chieftain Tui. We’ll have to try to figure ways to chip away at the seabirds and balance the odds more in our favour. In the meantime I’m going to take a look at Karuhiruhi’s island fortress.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Kahu sighed.
“I have to deliver our foes a message,” Arnie answered.
“In that case, me and my boys better protect your butt!”
“Keep up if you can,” Arnie said. “Neke neke.”
He banked and, using the offshore winds to carry him, glided back across the silver sea towards the seabird islands. Very soon he was over the first of them. The mating season had just passed, and the guano-encrusted plateau was dotted with gulls’ nests and parent birds protecting their fluffy young. Further on, the second island appeared similar to the first, except that the seabird nurseries were in holes in the cliffs. Territorial roosting seagulls came out to shriek at Arnie and his squad as they wheeled past.
Ahead, on the third island, was Karuhiruhi’s pah. The jagged rim of an extinct volcano circled the island, providing an impenetrable wall of foam-smashed cliffs. In the moonlight it was like a bizarre crown of tall crags and eyries. Embedded within the crown was the pah, an astonishing creation of natural parapets, wingways and launching pads. Right in the middle was the marae atea — the courtyard — around which defensive channels had been dug. Military outworks added to the formidable defences. Hundreds of burrows tunnelled away from the courtyard, descending down to the soldiers’ barracks at the innermost core of the island.
With a hiss, Arnie landed on one of the outer parapets. He closed his wings and walked stealthily forward to take a look at what was happening below. When Kahu and his hawks joined him, they whistled with wonder at the awesome sight below. Karuhiruhi had invited all his seabird lieutenants to meet Kawanatanga, his heir from the future, and Kawanatanga’s captains. There were hundreds of them, all at attention, rank after rank.
A fly-pass parade was taking place. On the ramparts of the fortress, Karuhiruhi was standing with his consort Areta at his side. Next to her was Kawanatanga, who had been given the honour of taking the salute. Karuhiruhi was intoxicated with pride in his ferocious descendant.
“Look at the size of the bastard,” Chieftain Kahu said, noting that Kawanatanga was two times bigger than his ancestor.
It was clear that Kawanatanga had already established his powerful presence. The moonlight flashed off his carapace. His movements were mechanical, his head and arms coordinated as if by computer. His voice was huge, as if digitally manipulated.
“No doubt about it,” Arnie said to himself. “A series 4 model.”
A squadron of seabirds came spiralling down into the fortress. When they landed, Karuhiruhi called for attention.
“This is a happy day,” he shrilled. “On this day, the Lord Tane has answered my prayers and given all seabirds the chance to re-litigate the battle of the birds. Not only that, but the incredible has happened. The Lord Tane has sent my descendant, Kawanatanga, to help us and, with him, reinforcements from the future.”
Areta tilted her head in acknowledgement and gave Kawanatanga a seductive look. There was no doubting that Kawanatanga had a rampant quality that was lacking in her consort.
The seabird battalions roared and began to chant. “Ka-wana-tang-a! Ka-wana-tang-a!”
Kawanatanga elbowed his way to the front. Although he paid tribute to his ancestor, his words were double-edged, ironic. “Beloved ancestor, Karuhiruhi, I honour you and your consort and pledge to fight alongside you tomorrow. Together, the seabirds will fulfil their ultimate destiny. Tomorrow we will achieve the world’s domination.”
The seabird army erupted in acclamation, celebrating the occasion in a riotous haka. “Tenei nga manu moana hokowhitu a Tu,” they cried. “Upane, kaupane, whiti te ra!”
Arnie saw that a sacrificial feast had been prepared, and that Kawanatanga was preparing to eat a young female chick of his own kind. Flames danced in Kawanatanga’s eyeslits. Seabirds had always had a covetous nature, and once it was released its rampant force could easily turn emotions from sense to savagery.
“Bring forth the sacrifice!” Kawanatanga called. The chick screamed and struggled as she was brought to the altar. With a quick jab, Kawanatanga pierced her heart, pulled it out of its ribcage and began to eat it. Blood dripped from his lips.
That’s when Arnie launched himself from his hiding place. His appearance was so swift and dramatic that the seabird army was stunned into silence.
“Kik-kik-kik-kik,” Arnie screamed. “Kik-kik-kik-kik.” He looked like an avenging demon, a threatening adversary slicing the full-bellied moon.
“Who is that?” Areta asked Kawanatanga, leaning into him.
Kawanatanga recognised Arnie immediately.
“Another bird from the future,” he sneered. “But he is of no consequence to us.”
Arnie glared down. Contemptuously, he turned his bum to Kawanatanga and delivered his message.
A long white string of crap arced through the air, splattering Kawanatanga and the sacrificial victim, who still shuddered in her death throes.