Planet Of No Return

She opened the pungent lizard skin wrappings — the creature had reluctantly become dinner for Ravn just two days earlier — and rooted about until she found the water bottle. She drank deeply, then passed it to Brion. He just used it to wet his lips. Since she had drunk from it the water was taboo for a Hunter; they made no attempt to even offer it to Ravn.

“When you put the water away, hand me the case of percussion grenades,” Brion said it too casually. She looked up, startled.

“Is there trouble coming?” she asked. He nodded slowly.

“They must be under cover in the forest. I can feel their hatred, the same as last time.”

“But not quite the same as last time!” She passed him the flat box and nodded encouragingly as he slipped a handful of the metal spheres into his pocket. “You don’t know how much I’m looking forward to this.”

“We don’t want to injure any of them. But it will be most effective to throw a large fright into them. If we can establish ourselves on top of the social structure, they should answer any questions that we might ask. We’ll move now, but stay near me because they are sure to close in behind us. They’re good hunters and they are armed, so we don’t want to take any chances.”

If Ravn was aware of the prepared ambush he gave no sign, just trudged on ahead of them at the same steady pace. They wended their way through the shrubs, then on among the taller trees. A large clearing opened up before them. Their path lay across it.

“Stop here,” Brion called out in the native tongue when they were halfway across. “Give me water to drink,” he ordered Lea. Then added more quietly; “They are on all sides of us now and they are very tense. I’m sure that they’ll attack any moment’ now. Keep your hand in the bundle and near the guns, just in case …”

The silence of the forest was shattered by a high-pitched, warbling cry that echoed across the glade. It was instantly joined by the massed war-cries of the Hunters as they erupted on all sides. Ravn started forward to join them — but Brion was on him in an instant; a single blow of his fist against the man’s shoulder sending him crashing to the ground. Brion placed one foot on his back to hold him there, then began to throw the grenades towards the encircling trees, one hurtling after the other.

Flame and sound exploded on all sides. Lea had known what was coming and had covered her ears; nevertheless she still fell to her knees, quivering under the impact of the brain-shattering sound. The battle cries turned to howls of pain as the men fell back or collapsed. In the silence that followed Brion’s voice roared out with anger, cursing them in their own language.

“You are dirt. You are women. You are shit! You raise a spear towards me and I kill you. You are dead meat under my foot — like this Ravn who is dead meat.” He leaned some of his massive weight onto the man as he talked and the Ravn wailed impressively. Brion had the upper hand and he meant to keep it. He sensed nothing except unreasoning fear from all of the Hunters. One of the sensation patterns was more familiar than the others.

“Vjer — come here,” he ordered.

The Hunter rose hesitantly to his feet and stumbled forward. There was blood running from his nose, and he was dazed, numbed by the explosions. Brion fixed him with a glare.

“Who am I?” he called out.

“You are Brrn …”

“Louder, I cannot hear you.”

“BRRN.”

“What is this piece of dirt I stand upon?”

“That is the Ravn.”

“Then who am I now?”

“You must be … the Ravn Above Ravn!” His eyes were wide as he spoke and Brion could sense the awe, the almost worshipful quality of his emotions. Brion pointed to the plasteel knife that Vjer was holding.

“What is that in your hand?”

Vjer looked at the knife and began to shake. He dropped to his knees with fear and crawled forward to lay it at Brion’s feet. Brion picked it up and slipped it back into his empty sheath.

“Now we will go on,” he said, taking his foot from the Ravn’s back. The title he had been given was of greatest importance; he could sense that by the reactions of the men around him. The aggression and fear were fading as he was accepted in his new role.

“They still have their weapons,” Lea said, eyeing the Hunters with suspicion.

“There is no need to disarm them, since I am now a part of their culture in this new role.”

“And what about me? I know, a woman, less than nothing. Carry the bundle and shut up. But wait until I have you out of this male-chauvinistic paradise, Brion Brandd! Oh, how you are going to pay for this …”

As they climbed the hillside through the trees, Brion kept his senses aware of the men about him. As long as they accepted him he was safe. But this could change in an instant, for reasons he might not even be aware of. But if this new-found status continued to work this would be the quickest and most successful way to penetrate the culture and talk to the people. It was dangerous. But it was too late to turn back.