Planet Of No Return

At first the sound was so tiny and distant he took it for the whine of an insect — but it grew quickly, louder and louder. He dived sideways into the cover of the deep grass as he recognized it. A jet engine. It was missing, then catching again as though it were in trouble. It came out of the sun, a white contrail with the black dot of an aircraft leading it. Twisting and turning as though the pilot was avoiding something. The course turned again, bending in his direction, passing almost directly overhead and hurtling on with a roar.

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?