Planet Of No Return

With the power off, and the harness released, the gravchute crashed heavily to the ground. Brion tore open the pressure suit and stripped it off, making sure that the helmet was still attached to it, the oxygen bottle as well. Right, everything in order.

Now — rush but don’t rush. There was just enough light in the grey of the dawn to see what he was doing. Pull open the carrier tube slung below the gravchute and shake out the knife and bag that he would be taking with him. The bag was sticking, tear it free, right, both of them out now. Get rid of everything else. Wrap the harness of the gravchute around the equipment that he was jettisoning. Double check to be sure that everything was secure. Good. Had he forgotten anything? No, everything was in place.

Brion twisted the gravchute power on full so that the bundle was torn from his grasp, knocking him aside as it hurtled skyward. It began to shrink as it rose, until it had vanished from sight almost completely. There was a flash of light from the faceplate as it caught the rising sun high above. Then even this was gone.

Brion let his breath out in an unconscious sigh of relief. He was on the ground and he was alive. The fall to the planet’s surface had been successful so he could put all thought of the descent behind him. Now was the time for the real work to begin.

While he bent over to retrieve his knife, Brion turned in a slow circle. He secured the sheath to his belt by touch, clumsily, since all of his attention was focussed now on the brightening landscape.

There was grass on all sides of him. Tall grass that was beginning to whisper and nod in the dawn breeze, undulating away from him in waves. Close by was a rocky mound, then a grove of trees on the western horizon, while beyond the grove were the rising foothills that lead up to the tree covered mountains beyond. Their summits were already being touched with fire from the rising sun.

Sudden movement caught his attention. There, in the direction of the lake. Brion crouched slowly, until only his eyes were above the grass. He could see a herd of creatures moving in his direction, grazing as they came. He remained as motionless as a rock, only his hands moving, drifting slowly downwards as he retrieved his pack and slung it by the strap over his shoulder.

Harsh cries shrilled suddenly in the air above him. Brion’s eyes snapped up to see the flock of birds circling close, then landing. No, they weren’t birds at all, but flying reptiles of some sort. Instead of feathers they had leathery membranes stretched between the thin bones of their outspread wings. Their skins glistened in the sunlight, red and orange; the creatures heads were split by gaping jaws that appeared to be filled with needle teeth. Still calling out harshly they dropped lower until they sank out of sight in the sea of grass.

The grazing creatures were closer and Brion could now see them clearly. They were lizardoids as well. Their hairless skins were dun-collared; perfect camouflage in the dried grass. They moved warily on their long running legs, raising their heads often and opening their nostril flaps to smell the air. There must be predators about — and Brion had a feeling that they would also be reptilian.

The herd was aware of something now. The creatures had stopped grazing and were standing, frozen, with their nostrils flared wide. Perhaps another animal was approaching. Though they had caught its smell, it was still concealed from sight in the deep grass. A drama of life and death was about to be played out close by him.

Brion realized with sudden shock that he might be more than a simple spectator, when he noticed that all of the creatures appeared to be staring in his direction. Had they seen him? He sank down even lower to avoid their gaze, empathetically feeling the thin undercurrent of their emotions. Fear. Fear that replaced all other sensations. His empathetic sense was normally sensitive only to human beings, but strong emotions from other animals occasionally seeped through. He was well aware of the creatures fear now — and something else, something stronger.

Brion sprang to his feet, tearing his knife from its sheath, spinning about just in time to see the dark form that hurtled towards him. High-pitched shrieking tore at his ears. Something hard crashed into his shoulder as he dived aside, spinning him about, numbing his arm so that he almost dropped the knife. He fumbled it into his left hand and saw the creature rising above him again, jaws agape, rows of teeth glistening.

It was falling upon him with its full weight as he plunged the knife into its throat. With a strangled screech it collapsed, crushing him to the ground. The creature shuddered convulsively once and then was still. Warm liquid bathed Brion’s arm, the beast’s blood or his own, he could not tell. Bracing his feet against the animal’s body he pushed himself free, looking around desperately at the same time to see if there were more of the things about.