#19
The Last Safari
(Part 2)
By Talbot Pratt
More days pass and
again you find yourself haunted by doubts. What if it was all for
nothing? What if they suspect?
From time to time,
you feel the slightest twinge of regret, of guilt even. But, then,
you decide that sacrificing Barango was no different from staking out a
kid goat to attract a lion -- and you have certainly done that often enough.
You just wish he hadn't looked at you just before he died. No goat
ever looked at you like that.
And then they come
for you.
"You saved the queen,"
the alien says. "You betrayed one of your own kind. Why?"
You are ready with
your answer. "Because I want to help you. I was an outcast
-- that's why they sealed me in that cave. Now I want to get even.
I want to help you defeat them."
The alien is impressed.
"And how will you help us defeat them?"
"They will trust me.
I can get close to them and lead them into ambushes, so you can exterminate
them all."
The alien goes away
but some hunter's instinct tells you: the bait has been taken. The
game is already in the trap, as good as stuffed and mounted.
You are soon proven
right. Several days later, four aliens come. They have decided
to give your plan a try. They lead you to the hangar where they keep
the ferry spaceships. You board one of the ferries and find yourself
in the company of fifty aliens, lined on benches along either side of the
ship, dressed in their silver suits with their helmets on their laps.
They turn and look at you, their eyes glittering grotesquely in the dull
light.
The door closes and
the ship takes off. Through the round front window, you can see the
hangar door iris-open ahead, exposing the black of space. For a time,
you travel in silence, repulsed by such close proximity to so many of the
aliens. Gradually, the black seen through the window becomes a dark
blue, then lighter, as you descend through the atmosphere.
Eventually, you break
the silence with a question. "How will I find the humans?"
The nearest alien replies,
"We know where they are to be found. We will land very close and
let you out." The alien passes you a device with a small illuminated
screen. "This device is keyed to detect humans. It will
take you to them. You will lead them back to us as you have promised.
We will do the rest."
You nod and try to
wipe the sweat from your forehead -- only to find the helmet in your way.
The rest of the voyage
is made in silence. Finally, there is a thump and the engines stop.
You realize you have landed. This is it. Now is the time to
fish or cut bait.
And you never cut bait.
Without warning, you
move faster than you have ever moved in your life. You take
them totally by surprise, snatching the tube weapon from the nearest alien.
Still, there are fifty of them. Fifty tube weapons.
It doesn't save them.
You fire just once.
The blue-white beam spears down the centre of the ship, etching them all
in dazzling brilliance, burning instantly through the round window at the
front. The aliens are caught unprepared, their helmets still in their
laps. In seconds, oxygen, beautiful, lovely and, to them, poisonous
oxygen floods the ship. Their screams are music to your ears.
Their convulsions fill you with pride. You watch them die, all fifty
of them, and feel that familiar lump in your throat.
It is what you live
for...
You take off your helmet and toss it aside. The air smells sweet, with the scents of trees and grass, but the ship has landed in the ruins of a city. Everywhere, hulking piles of blasted masonry rear against the sky. So -- this is where humanity has chosen to make its last stand.
You feel a thrill. These people, they must live in terror of the aliens. When they learn what you have done, they will call you a hero. They will make you a king.
You'll be running this place.
You pick your way through the ruins, the device in your hands indicating that you are getting closer and closer. Finally you stop. A building rises just ahead, all black shattered doorways and blasted windows. In there. They are in there.
You stop and call out. "Hello in there. Don't be afraid. I'm human. I've killed fifty of the aliens and I've come to save you." There is only silence. You try again. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I've killed fifty aliens and I know how to kill many more. They can't breathe our air. All we have to do is break their helmets. Come out where I can see you. Come out --"
And they do.
There is only a moment of confusion. You hear the familiar rasping of scaly hides; you see the long, log-like shapes sliding out through the black doorways, the vast toothy jaws. First one, then a dozen, then more than in your worst nightmares.
And then you understand.
To such alien creatures as the invaders, one Earth lifeform must be virtually indistinguishable from another. The records they found were made by humans, but they didn't realize -- the real humans had died out long ago.
The creatures they had hunted, had sought to exterminate were a more tenacious breed by far. A creature which, virtually alone of all land animals, had survived since the days of the dinosaurs, more than seventy million years ago.
What was one million years to them?
Now, as you watch those creatures, those survivors, slithering closer, your mind races, searching for a plan, any plan. But, just this once, plans are in short supply. And, moments later, there is no one to hear you scream.
No one on a planet
of crocodiles...
