CHAPTER 37: Adventure to Exile

Somehow, fortune didn’t quite desert Alexander. The twenty meter plunge landed him on top of the beast, and its body provided a cushion for the impact. The splintering of bones beneath him and the popping of soft flesh signaled the end of the carnivore, and Alexander’s salvation. Dazed, but otherwise conscious and alive he staggered up, slipping on the mush that was now the carnivore’s corpse. As he reached his feet an assembly of howls broke all around him.

Blindly he fired in the most strident direction of the cacophony. Both blasters spat time and again, burning into the angry pack, but the beams began to dim almost immediately. In a moment’s time Alexander’s two blaster pistols were useless.

He drew his sword.

The carnivores were on him. He hacked and slashed at the shaggy shadows and gleaming eyes. Twice the beasts knocked him from his feet, but each time he forced his way up through the writhing tornado of blood, fur and teeth. Alexander instinctively returned to that inner world of red icy rage which served him through so many lives. It was rage at his stupidity, and an egotistical primal rage aimed at any creature that dared threaten his right to live.

Alexander’s strength burst forth like water through a dam and he shouldered his way through the lanky shapes, slashing limbs, and spraying the canyon with showers of blood from his sharp Chem sword. He didn’t think. Time was too precious for anything but instinct in the melee. The fight whirled around him like a fog, but he saw every beast, knew every intended move and acted instinctively before necessity made it too late. Alexander reached a rhythm in his slaughter, where the cold calculation of the mind becomes a detached master guiding the body’s future movements and leaving the present to the flesh.

Then, just as terribly as it began, it ended. Alexander was alone in the canyon, with only the fading yelps of the maimed and defeated. Shaking the blood from his eyes he slowly came down from his mountain of fury. As he did so his senses expanded their range of attention, heretofore shortened to the immediate necessity of the battle.

The forest was alive with his raucous activity, and by the sound of it carnivores were searching out the battlefield, intent on the spoils. Alexander growled to himself, still angry that his complacency had landed him in such a spot. He didn’t have much time for self reflection; however, as once again he’d forgotten his location. The fight was only two hundred meters from the Pantrixnian Lord’s lair, and the enormous shadow looming at the canyon entrance was as unmistakable as it was unwelcome.

“Well, what do you want, Rex?” Alexander demanded, and not at all pleasantly. He shook his sword. “Don’t even think about it, I’m not in the mood; if you need a snack take one of these curs! I’ll not sleep in your belly tonight!”

Alexander grappled and then heaved one of the wolves down the slope at Rex, who growled menacingly at his tone and action. Still, the dinosaur did not charge, rather its dark shape, stunningly huge in the glooms of the night, padded forward to the corpse. It snuffed at it and then snorted. Another low growl emanated from the cavernous throat and suddenly those two meter jaws plunged down and plucked the carnivore from the stones like a doll.

Alexander watched in awe as the Tyrannosaurus shook the corpse so violently that the body separated with a resounding snap, showering him with bloody chunks of flesh and innards. Then, as if in disgust the dinosaur tossed the remains high into the night air where it landed at Alexander’s feet.

Rex roared at him.

“Very well, you’ve made your point,” Alexander admitted. “You’re not a scavenger.”

Rex snorted so hard that Alexander caught the warm wind of its breath. Then it turned, bellowing, and plunged into the forest with the obvious intent on wreaking havoc.

“Touchy!” Alexander told himself, though, of course, he was not the only audience to his night’s adventures.

“You seem rather certain of your superiority, Alexander,” Bob noted. “This was quite an evening. You dare the Pantrixnian night, slaughter thirteen Kalvrones, and insult the galaxy’s greatest carnivore. Tell me, and the galaxy, Alexander, are you that arrogant or are you simply extraordinarily lucky?”

“Sometimes I am simply extraordinarily stupid, Bob.” He started carefully down the jumbled slope of the canyon.

“That’s an interesting comment, considering it comes from the longest lived nonresident of Pantrixnia. Indeed, this night you add to your record by a full fifty percent, completely eclipsing the mark set by Zunthrug the Bold. That’s a significant accomplishment, Alexander of Terra, and one which has not gone without notice.”

“What do you mean? Am I to be granted a reprieve? Better yet, has that sniveling worm Bureel finally remembered his noble heritage and agreed to my challenge?”

“Nothing so staggering,” Bob admitted. “I apologize for getting your hopes up. My intent was merely to inform you that you have ranked amongst the highest rated personalities on the ethernet, not just in Chem but throughout the galaxy! You are on everyone’s after dinner schedule.”

Alexander stopped suddenly, and turned to the automaton. “I had no idea,” he mused. “I send greetings to all who watch, both from me and from Terra. Take from my trials what you will, but I will offer you an ancient Terran saying for your reflection, “Don’t tread on me.”

“Treat us as your equals and we will enter the Galactic family peaceably and with reverence for your accomplishments. Threaten us, and we will respond in kind with ferocity you cannot imagine. Think carefully how you treat us. You do not understand your peril.”

“That is a dire warning, Alexander, and I expect the majority of the warning is directed towards the people of Chem.”

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Alexander cautioned. “I have a great deal of respect for the people of Chem. Yet the course of an honorable people can often be twisted by ignorance and trepidation. If my sacrifice on Pantrixnia can ease the transition of Terra into the Galactic neighborhood, and do so in peace, then I shall die well.”

“You speak with great finality, Alexander.”

“I’m banished here,” Alexander said in the darkness, making his way with difficulty through the jungle. “Unless I discover how to build a starship out of vines and logs this is the veritable definition of finality.”

“Is that regret?”

“Certainly,” Alexander replied gruffly, striking a path toward the river. He was seemingly unconcerned about the noise he was making, and for good reason. In the not so distant jungle Rex was still raising Cain in its kingdom.

Alexander knew the way, but it still wasn’t easy. Mother Nature was especially stingy when she designed Terrans for coping at night. Compared to the denizens of the jungle he was stone blind. Night was where his grotto really made the difference between survival and death. He was sure that other beings, equally capable of surviving on this world as he, failed simply because of protracted exhaustion.

Bob stayed with him, finally asking Alexander to expand on his last comment. Alexander growled, “What do you think? A planet bound people are suddenly informed of the civilized galaxy through threat and intrigue? We have dreams and aspirations of the wonders which you take for granted. We are warriors, yes, I readily admit that. We have our faults, but we are not without virtue. I regret that the galaxy decided its opinion of us before we could debate it. I shall die with that thought on my head; I shall most probably die with the slight of that dog Bureel rattling in my ears, without any chance for satisfaction! Regrets? Yes, I am full of them, but there is also contentment. I got to know the noble Nazeera, and in her I saw understanding and wisdom; so I’m not without hope of justice for my people, even though I shall never see it.”

“You wander with great facility between the brusque and the eloquent, Alexander.” Bob answered, and then maintained its silence throughout the rest of Alexander’s trek through the jungle.

The way wasn’t easy, especially when he came to the river. Alexander had to shoot his way into the grotto. A dozen huge crocodiles smelt him out. They forced him into a tree, and it was there that he discovered the rifle had a night scope. It was possibly the only pleasant discovery of the evening, and it was the only reason he was able to get to the grotto at all. He picked off four of the massive creatures before the rest scattered into the water. Minutes later Alexander barred the entrance to the grotto, and heaved a sigh of relief.

Nessie barked her greeting and lay back down to sleep.

“Congratulations, Alexander of Terra. The populace of Chem passes on their appreciation for an exciting evening. There is one other message I am to pass on. It is my honor to relay a message from Nazeera of the Triumvirate of Chem.

Alexander looked up with renewed vigor at her lovely face playing on small hologram transmitted by the automaton.

“Greetings and congratulations Alexander of Terra, it has been some time since I enjoyed our meeting on the Chem Homeworld. I see now that the honor and resolve which you displayed before me and the entire Assemblage was genuine. Your exploits earn you renown amongst the most extraordinary figures of our time. We rejoice at your courage and prowess. You have our best wishes for continued success.”

Alexander read between the lines. Nazeera still believed in him. He knew that she hadn’t betrayed him at the Tyrannosaur’s canyon; it was simply another trick of Bureel’s. He didn’t wonder that they had spent so short a time together. The feeling was right, somehow. Marooned on this hellish planet he cherished that sentiment, as it was the only comfort he had.

Alexander awoke the next day with renewed spirits.

Nessie poked her head into the grotto and tossed him a fish.

He cleaned it, humming to himself, almost happy. He was putting the fish on the fire when he noticed something was different. Bob wasn’t there.

Alexander ate, and afterwards went outside. Perhaps the more mundane activities of his existence were wearing thin on the audience. The day wore on; Bob was nowhere to be found. The next day was the same, and the next. On the fourth day Alexander lost all hope of Bob returning or being replaced.

He was alone on Pantrixnia. Exiled. He’d spend the rest of his life on the hellish planet with no hope of ever seeing or talking to another sentient being again.