CHAPTER 26: Pantrixnia

Alexander’s head throbbed with a sharp electric burn. He marveled that Bureel hadn’t fried his brain completely. The familiar sensation of a cold metal floor brought his senses back into focus. He opened his eyes to the dull gray light of another dungeon, but one slightly different from his other cell.

On the wall was a flat gray screen, and beneath it was a series of icons. He got up to investigate. He was stiff, and the nerves of his hands and feet like live wires. The physical pain only served to heighten his own criticism of his behavior.

He was mad to compromise Nazeera as he did.

“Funny way to show her I care,” Alexander scolded himself, looking around at his new prison. “This is Bureel’s work. I guess he’s calling the shots now, and I’m on my way to Pantrixnia. If I ever get out of this I’ll finish the strangling of him!”

There was a thump, and he almost fell to the floor. A loud noise grew outside his cell. The screen illuminated and a female Chem appeared. It wasn’t Nazeera. “Terran, we’ve entered the atmosphere of Pantrixnia! We’ll be landing shortly. You may select whatever weapons you choose, and whatever clothing, but we will not wait for you. As we touchdown you will be discharged. That is all. Remember all the Chem Empire is watching you, may you die well!”

The picture changed. It now presented a table of weapons ranging from energy guns to edged blades. He chose what appeared to be an energy rifle, a pair of hand held energy guns, a long knife and a sword. He expected to be on the planet longer than the Chem did, so he didn’t want to be entirely dependent on energy weapons.

A second screen showed a similar table of garments. These included all encompassing suits of armor, light clothing and combinations in between. He chose a suit of mixed protection and weight. The weapons were behind an automatic sliding hatch, as was the suit. Alexander gathered everything about his person and hurriedly dressed himself. He was none too quick. He’d hoped to go back and review the choices at a more leisurely pace, but just as he shrugged the sword belt over his shoulder the ship bumped to a landing.

He looked around for a door, but he saw none. Then the floor slid away beneath his feet. Alexander fell heavily to the ground. A hurricane of wind and debris surrounded him. Wet leaves slapped against his face and a rush of hot air pummeled him. Then, just a suddenly, the world quieted down and the sound of the jungle overcame the receding engines of the Chem ship.

He was alone in the misty daylight of the Chem prison planet Pantrixnia.

It was a jungle planet; that much was apparent. They set him in a small clearing. It had a dirt floor and was perfectly circular—obviously artificial. All around was a dense jungle, hot, moist and full of sounds. He wasn’t alone. Already, eyes were upon him.

Alexander took out his pistol. With a cursory glance he guessed at its operation. There was a contact where the trigger should be. Aiming at a tree he pressed it.

Nothing.

Another glance and he found a latch that looked as though it moved. He slid it back and a red light illuminated on top of the gun. A small green light bar also illuminated in the handle. He aimed and pressed the contact again. A blast of blue energy erupted from the focus and the tree splintered and burned at the point of contact. The light bar in the handle shrank by a small amount, and gauging it he guessed there were fifteen to twenty shots left. Holstering the gun he drew the sword.

The blade was lighter than a steel sword, and roughly a meter long by three inches wide. It had a comfortable feel in his hand, and he had no doubt that he could use it with great effect despite the lives that lay between the present Alexander and the swashbuckler. He kept the sword out as he turned to the jungle.

Water must be his first order of business, and then shelter for the night—he needed to see the lay of the land. Through a gap in the canopy he spied a high crag roughly a kilometer distant. It was the obvious choice for a lookout, and might provide a defensible camp.

Paths left the clearing in three directions. Alexander turned towards the crag; he loosened the gun in its holster, and held the sword before him. His plan of action, such as he had, was to use the guns as a last recourse, relying heavily on the sword.

From what little the Chem told him of this place it was a twisted form of galactic coliseum intended for dispatch of criminals in an honorable way. If stocked only with animals, and no intelligent life, he hoped that sheer bluster would carry him through as much as his sword and gun. Animals on the whole, at least those of Earth, usually tried to avoid conflicts that would get them injured. Injury in the wilderness was a death sentence. Perhaps, he thought, bluff could go as far as combat. He hoped so. Considering the possible length of his stay the gun and the rifle would have frighteningly short lives, and swordplay would have limited affect on large carnivores.

He stepped onto the trail, instantly aware of two things. There was a piece of armor or clothing lying partially on the beaten path. It was ragged on the edges and stained. The other object of note was the wall of impenetrable foliage on either side of the track. It was the perfect place for an ambush. He crouched, waiting and listening. For the moment he was at a loss as to how to proceed. A barely audible whirring caught his attention and he whipped around to face it, backhanding his sword in a whistling arc.

A sharp metallic “thunk!” announced the collision between the sword and a floating metal automaton. His expectation of danger turned to surprise as the automaton, jumped upwards several meters at the impact. Shortly, however, it steadied and floated back down to him. It stopped slightly out of range of his sword and hung in mid air.

“Edgy already, eh Terran,” said the automaton in a high pitched sing-song voice. “Welcome to Pantrixnia! I’ll be following your progress for our intergalactic ethernet broadcast, so no need to be alarmed at my presence. I see you’ve found our last participant, or what they left of him. He didn’t get very far. It was a very disappointing performance.”

Alexander tried to hear over the artificial buzz of the automaton, but it was difficult, and that was making him nervous. “I’ll try to improve on that, now if you don’t mind,”

“Let’s hope so,” the voice cut in. “After all we’ve a vast audience. Over fifty billion people of eleven different species are tuning into to watch you this instant. The level of interest is quite high. The Elder himself, and the entire Assemblage, is now watching you live on the Chem Homeworld!”

“They honor me,” he said sarcastically.

“By the way, that’s an interesting choice of weapons you have,” the automaton said. “Would you mind explaining your rational. We’ve never had a Terran participant before.”

“Maybe later, if you don’t mind, I’m busy,” Alexander told it with finality. He’d finally made up his mind as to how he would progress. He made his way alertly over to the tree he’d blasted. As he crossed the clearing there was a slight tremor in the muddy earth, followed quickly by the heavy breathing of some cavernous breast and the sound of undergrowth being trampled. It reminded him vaguely of a dog trotting through tall grass, a very large dog.

“We have our first guest of the day,” exclaimed the automaton. “You guessed it, the Banthror! As always he’s attracted by the sound of our drop ship. He knows what that means!”

Alexander cursed, but he held his ground next to the charred tree. The sound grew louder, and suddenly a bright orange and purple striped head burst out of the jungle wall. It was conical, as if shaped for penetrating the dense jungle, and contained the requisite maw filled with tusk-like teeth. The head joined a muscular body, tall in front and low in the back like a hyena, but more the size of a large rhino with eight legs.

The Banthror stopped suddenly and leapt sideways. The move startled Alexander until he realized the creature had done this before. It expected to get shot at. In mid leap it sighted him. The Banthror landed on all eight feet at once. Immediately it sprang for the spot where Alexander stood, mouth agape and the four front feet splayed, claws springing to ready.

Alexander expected as much, or rather his instincts expected it. The Banthror was too fast to think of a plan of action. He leapt to the side, swinging the sword in a wide defensive arc as he did so. The blade caught one of the paws flush at the ankle, and with a “chunk!” the member flew off. The Banthror scrambled to a stop just to the side of Alexander, one claw catching the shoulder of his armor. The claws skidded off the plate without penetrating the armor, but it spun Alexander about. Alexander didn’t try and resist the force of the Banthror’s blow, but used the impetus to turn and strike at the same time. As the Banthror snapped at him with a mouth large enough to bite the man in two, Alexander’s backhanded slash cut deeply across the creature’s snout. Blood spurted as the blade parted the sensitive flesh and raked across its skull. The Banthror snapped its head back with a yelp.

Alexander ducked behind the tree, but the Banthror moved swifter, despite its wounds, and cut him off. The leering bloody face loomed directly in front of him. The mouth opened, and the four hind legs gathered themselves in the soft soil to leap. Alexander drew his pistol and shot straight into the slavering maw. Burned flesh and blood showered him in a crimson haze. The Banthror dropped like a stone.

“Well done, well done!” the automaton exclaimed. “What an exciting way to begin! Tell us, how does it feel to defeat one of the lesser scavengers of Pantrixnia?”

Alexander ignored the remark, but he did reflect momentarily on how well his past-life experiences served him in the combat. His fight with the Banthror could have been choreographed with pistol and cutlass, or knife and sword. Alexander didn’t think; he simply acted. The reality of his theory was comforting, but the sounds of the jungle reminded him that there was much still to do.

He turned his attention to the fallen Banthror. The carcass would soon attract other predators. Cutting a long swath of hide, about six feet wide and six feet long, he folded it in two and draped it over his shoulder, tucking either end into his belt. His idea was to carry the scent of the Banthror with him. The creature may be in the lower echelons of the food chain on Pantrixnia, but it was still a step up. Hastily cutting a few strips of meat and securing these to his belt Alexander left the clearing.

“Ugh! You’re not planning on eating those are you?” the automaton asked. “I doubt if it will harm you, but Banthror is at best unpalatable.”

“I like my Beef Wellington medium rare with a flaky crust if you care to send down something a bit more civilized!” Alexander snapped, as he worked his way through the hole the Banthror made in the jungle and on to the round bole of a tree.

“That wouldn’t be fair. This is, after all, a party of your own making, Terran. We must all lie in the bed we make.”

Alexander reached the tree and grappled one of the thick vines that grew up the trunk. The trees grew to over forty meters, with the top half being composed of a matte of thick branches. The canopy of trees looked to be interwoven, and might provide him with a quicker, and safer, route than along the jungle floor. It was a long climb, but the bark was rough and gave his boots good purchase. In a few moments he was twenty meters above the jungle floor, and none too soon.

Several other carnivores already gathered to feast on the Banthror’s carcass. Some were larger, and some smaller, but they were all strange to his eyes. He sat in a crotch of the tree, watching. Half dozen animals were pulling and tugging at the Banthror when a large black and green lion creature made its appearance. It was half again as large as the Banthror, and its presence made the other beasts shrink back snarling to the edge of the clearing. The monster deposited itself over its meal and soon the sound of crunching bones and ripping flesh drifted up to him. Alexander thought he’d seen enough, but then something caught his attention.

Not one hundred meters from him, just at the edge of his sight, a huge saurian shape stalked silently through the jungle. It led with its enormous head, parting the foliage and carefully placing each of its taloned feet into the damp earth. Its tail moved in concert, floating far behind as a counterbalance to that two meter set of jaws.

The sight of this ancient Earth creature on this alien world stunned Alexander with delight. The automaton floated next to him, and whispered, “You have the rare privilege of watching the greatest carnivore of our galaxy on the hunt. He comes from your planet, Terran. We theorize that some ancient race transplanted them here, and on other worlds. That was many lost civilizations ago when the galaxy was adolescent. We found them here on Pantrixnia, and that gave us the impetus to build this world as you now see it. In all the galaxy, though, there is nothing like this creature!”

“It’s a Tyrannosaurus,” Alexander breathed, “an honest to God real Tyrannosaurus!”

“What did you call it, Terran?” the automaton asked.

“Tyrannosaurus Rex: King of the Tyrant Lizards.”

“An admirable name.”

The Tyrannosaurus wormed its way to the edge of the clearing with no one the wiser. It chose just the right vantage point, whether by instinct or cunning, at the hindquarters of the lion creature. The lion creature munched contentedly, unaware that the Tyrannosaurus was gathering itself for a leap. Alexander held his breath, but when the leap came he was altogether unprepared for the suddenness of it. The Tyrannosaurus covered twenty meters with two strides and a lunge. Despite its bulk it was almost graceful, but the violence of the charge destroyed whatever beauty it had. The enormous head stretched out to bite and hold, but so quick was the lion creature that it escaped the six inch teeth. Unfortunately for the lion, the direction of the Tyrannosaur’s attack propelled its panic stricken escape straight into the tree.

Frantically, it scrambled to get up, but the jaws of the Tyrannosaurs shot down at the exposed spine. The huge teeth found purchase in the soft flesh; the grip of the terrible vise drove the moist air from the creature’s lungs with a terrible fatal gasp. Lifting the enormous mammal like a doll the Tyrannosaurus shook it, showering the glade with blood and fur. A rending snap signaled the parting of bone, and the Tyrannosaurus threw the carcass to the ground, bellowing a challenge through the jungle. Then, with what could only be a growl of satisfaction, it settled down its feast.

“Amazing,” Alexander breathed.

“Yes, indeed, but the wonderful thing about Pantrixnia is not the sheer power of death, but the subtlety of it.”

A thrill of fear shot through him, and Alexander turned just in time to see the blur of the snake as it struck. It aimed for his neck, but his sudden movement caused it to strike his back. The force of the blow nearly catapulted him off the tree, but his left hand blindly clutched for, and desperately held on to a thick vine. He swung into space, hanging there twenty meters above the forest floor.