Book 2: Chapter 1: Sky God
Bob
February 2167
Delta Eridani
An angry squeal erupted from the pile of deadwood. The two Deltans paused, poised to retreat. Seeing no further response, they resumed pelting the area with rocks. The individual I had named Bernie, his fur erect along his spine and ears straight out with excitement, chanted, “Here, kuzzi, kuzzi, kuzzi.”
I moved my observation drone to the rear to get out of their line of sight. They were okay with me observing the hunt, but I didn’t want to distract them when even a slight misstep could result in injury or death. Mike glanced up at the movement, but the Deltans otherwise paid no attention to the football-sized drone.
Someone must have scored a direct hit with a rock. Screaming like an irate steam engine, the pigoid erupted from the entrance to its den. The two rock-throwers sprinted out of the way and the other hunters moved up. Each braced the butt of his spear on the ground and placed a foot on the end to hold it in place.
The pigoid reached the hunting group in less than a second, screaming in rage. The Deltans held their positions with all the courage of medieval pikemen facing a cavalry charge. Even though I watched the action remotely via a floating observation drone, I could still feel my nether regions puckering up in fear. At times like this, I wondered if I hadn’t gone a little overboard with the level of detail in my virtual-reality environment. There was no reason for me to even have nether regions, let alone for them to pucker.
The pigoid crashed into the waiting spears without slowing. Fast, yes. Smart, not so much. I’d never seen a pigoid try to dodge the spear points. One of the hunters, Fred, was thrown to the side as his spear bowed and then snapped. He screamed, either in pain or surprise, and blood spurted from his leg. A distracted part of my mind noted that Deltan blood was almost the same shade of red as human blood.
The other Deltans held fast, and the pigoid was lifted right into the air by the leverage of their spears. It hung in midair for a moment, then crashed to the ground with a final screech. The Deltan hunters waited for any more movement, lips drawn back to show their impressive canines. Occasionally, a pigoid would get back up after this level of mistreatment and wade in for another round. No one wanted to be caught with their guard down.