The Hooman Saga - Book Two, Part 1

Episode 01

(This book is available almost everywhere online - if you can't wait to see how this turns out, see https://calm.li/HoomanSagaBk2Pt1 for more information and links.)

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The flames were starting to show up through the tiny, scarred windows. The vibrations and shaking had gotten worse.

Old scratched-up silvery Ben, the cyborg pilot, didn't seem concerned. But he was programmed to show compassion and be reassuring. His voice circuit mimicked a well-modulated baritone, "We're nearing peak re-entry speed and atmospheric drag is increasing."

Sue, belted in, space-suited, helmet secured with face visor down, was not reassured. "Does that mean the shaking is going to get worse?"

"I'm afraid so, ma'am."

Sue checked her harness for the fourth time. All the silvery web strapping was fine. She felt around the seals of her scratched and scarred helmet with her gloved hands. It seemed secure, but she wasn't going to take the time to unclasp and unseal her gloves to go any further. While she was still breathing the metal-tainted air of the escape capsule, the valves would automatically close on any air pressure drop. Then she'd have about two hours on what was in her suit. But she was pretty sure if she didn't get into breathable atmosphere by that time, the final stink she would be smelling wouldn't bother her. The temporary suit scrubbers weren't designed to handle that kind of load for that long.

- - - -

Snarl came trotting up the trail to the cliff edge. The night was clear and scent of all the nocturnal animals were alive in the air. He snuffed out his nostrils to clear them. His four legs were quiet on the rocky path, his reddish-gray tail swinging from side to side in rhythm as well as for balance.

As he approached Tig, he saw his den-mate and hunt-team leader in silhouette. He was looking at the stars, but lit by the feeble light of the moon behind him.

Snarl and Tig had been raised together as part of the Chief's family and had been born the same year, a particularly hard winter and cold spring. Those were some good times, Snarl thought. Too many years past already. He snuffed again to clear his head and focus on the job at hand.

The scents of pine as well as the lower-down hardwoods in the valley below made it difficult to concentrate. They reminded him of running with the pack on the hunt. Groups of wolves signaling to each other in turn, bunching up the quarry and surrounding it for the kill. His throat tightened to howl, and he forced it to relax.

"A quiet night." Tig sent by thought to Snarl.

Snarl would have been surprised by anyone else, but Tig was far more sensitive to thoughts, especially from a pack-mate. Snarl sent back, "A good night for hunting, Tig. Almost wish we were down with the rest. They are ready to start when you are."

"You're too efficient, Snarl. And our pack is well-supplied because of you." Tig replied.

"But you seem distracted. What is it, Tig?"

"Another meteor. This is a close one. It looks to be coming down nearby."

Snarl growled low. "I alway hate those things. Will it be near our valley?"

Tig sent, a calm thought, "No, it's parallel to the ridge. But a fire wouldn't help matters."

Fires started by meteors were more common than lightning strikes. And they tended to start with an explosion, which made them spread faster than the slow burn started by a simple sharp flash. It had been like this ever since the Hoomans left. So said the Teacher, and the Teachers who taught her, back to the times of the Hoomans leaving. Snarl sat as he thought this through. Looking up the same direction as Tig, he could see it now. Tig was better at spotting these than he was.