Life Takers


The small golden transport pod hung in the air 15 kilometers above the gently rolling valley floor, barely two kilometers from the bordering cliff faces on each side. From the shadowed belly of the pod, a grav porter, drifting like a feather on a soft spring wind, lowered the thousand meter cube of latticed-ice container to the already shriveling grassland below.


"Be careful, G'ror"! 'pathed N'arn to the porter pilot. "We have thirty more containers to offload and I don't want them waking out of their cold-sleep until we are safe in orbit again". G'ror, the sled pilot, had been rushing the descent and had been a bit nonchalant. He started to pay very close attention to his task and answered, politely, "Yes, mother." N'arn, the transport captain, was also a Clan Matriarch as well as G'ror's genetic parent but that didn't mean a thing as far as duty to the Clan. One did not want to make N'arn mad. G'ror thought, without 'pathing, "B'lal forbid the container was damaged due to his carelessness or inattention and the LT's got loose or worse yet; one of the LT's was injured or killed.


After setting the container on the valley floor, the little grav sled edged around the top and sides of it to inspect for cracks or premature melting of the latticed-ice cube. G'ror then landed the grav porter, stepped off and opened the control panel on the side of the cube, carefully punching in the command code and time delay sequence to stop the freeze cycle. He knew this was going to be a long day. Hopefully, the LT's previously placed in this habitat would not be around to disturb his work.


Three quarters of a rotation later, G'ror punched in the last timing sequence on the 31st cube and looked across the valley. A thick fog was emanating from the tops of the first dozen cubes which hid the stars above the valley. Everything seemed normal, for now. N'arn had ridden the grav porter with G'ror for a brief but final inspection on the last descent and she 'pathed, "Let's get back to the pod, G'ror". "You deserve an extra time slot at the feeders when we return to orbit for this days hard work". G'ror's face split with a huge grin; his table-top smooth teeth reflecting light from this habitat's satellite which was nearly at the horizon on the other end of the valley.


G'ror followed N'arn, a respectful five meters to the rear, and admired his Mother and Clan Leader. N'arn, a P'tathian, was nearly eight meters tall and weighed close to 1700 kilo's. Long golden brown hair, which completely covered her from head-crest to her strong flat feet, waved back and forth in time with her ambling gait toward the grav porter. A bipedal race of peaceful telepathic vegetarians, the P'tathian's had a self-imposed and universally appreciated task of ridding this segment of the universe; "about a three million kiloparsecs pie-shaped wedge", of Life-Takers.


(The LT's were not species specific but seemed to be genetically inclined to kill and eat any sentient or non-sentient life form which would hold still long enough to be stabbed, bludgeoned, or torn apart by tooth and nail. Sadly, none could hear the mental screams of their intended victims reverberating through their minds. Some were so low on the evolutionary ladder, they couldn't even communicate with each other except by roars, grunts and gestures.)


The P'tathians self-imposed task had been so for over three revolutions of the universe and would probably continue to be so for as long as the LT's kept breeding in various galaxy's or until all were found and transplanted to habitats such as this one. N'arn's plate-sized chocolate brown eyes glowed with the coming star rise as she turned her large head to view the line of containers. The thick fog nearly engulfed the entire valley, blocking a large amount of the star's light as the habitat rotated slowly on its axis.


She stepped on the grav porter, sat down in the only available seat and waited for G'ror to pilot the porter back to the transport pod where they could watch, in relative safety, the slow process of the LT's release. "Thank B'lal that all went well", she 'pathed G'ror as he lifted off the valley floor for the return trip. G'ror mentally agreed. He'd heard stories about the ferocity and mindless frenzy the LT's were capable of when they felt the urge to eat and didn't want any part of being ones' meal. Not yet one light old, he couldn't comprehend how any sentient being would want to harm, much less kill and eat another sentient being. Their mind-screams would be too much to maintain consciousness, much less to consider eating, but then again; the LT's were not telepathic and could not hear the screams anyway.


Even though most of the habitats selected by the P'tathian Clan Mothers Council contained very primitive indigenous life forms prior to LT relocation, none were telepathic and exceedingly few, including this one, had creatures who were cognizant of anything but the most basic primal urges; eating, resting and procreation. All were deathly silent on any 'pathic scale and for this reason, thought to be perfect relocation habitats for the 'pathic-dumb LT's. The P'tathians could have just as easily destroyed any life taking species which was discovered throughout their segment of galactic space but no P'tathian could be found who could carry the LT's death-screams in their memory for their multi-millennial life spans without going crazy. That had been tried eons ago and did not work.


All requisite facts must be considered before selection of habitats was finalized. Most worlds patrolled by the P'tathians had one or two LT species and were simple to clean by forced relocation. There were numerous element-based habitat varieties and none were ever mixed with the others. Carbon based with carbon based, silicon based with silicon, and so on. To mix them would have been cruel and unkind and those two racial attributes could never be found in the P'tath culture. This particular habitat was carbon based and all the containers which G'ror had carefully placed in the valley were full of like-based LT's.


As the outer portions of the honeycombed ice-lattice containers began to melt from the heat of the nearby star, groggy creatures of all sizes and shapes began to emerge. Some creatures, still half asleep, realized that this valley wasn't a good place to be in their present condition while others watched warily for signs of weakness or momentary lack of attention in potential victims. LT's were always opportunistic and made the most of any chance to obtain an easy meal, usually not attacking beings of their own species unless very hungry.


N'arn and G'rar stood at the view port of the small pod, both on the verge of tears at the viciousness of the attacks going on all over the valley floor. Fully 20% of the LT's would never make it out of the valley alive and those that did would have to watch out for the previous transplants. Those brought to this habitat during the last two rotations of this particular galactic cluster were already acclimated to life here and weren't weak from lack of hunger or sleepy from being transported across millions of light years. You could see some of the earlier arrivals waiting in canyons and along the mesa's bording the valley. Large 15 meter tall LT's with lines of teeth in their ravenous mouths ripped through the groggy crowds snapping off a head here, half a body there. It was a gruesome sight and there was nothing N'arn or her offspring could do about it.


This was the eighth trip they had made to this habitat and had relocated over 200,000 species; at least 30 million individual beings. They always tried to find an uninhabited location to off-load the containers but scenes such as this were the rule instead of the exception. N'arn's genetic mother and grandmother had made over 100 trips each and both had relocated at least ten times as many LT's as had N'arn. One would think the habitat should have long since been overpopulated but that one would not have known about the LT's or their propensity for killing. There were probably less than 20 million transplanted LT's on this habitat. They raised no crops and lived from one kill to the next, leaving most of their kills for the slower and less aggressive LT's to scavenge.


This particular relocation effort was different than any other in just one way. There were a few thousand creatures who looked disturbingly like the P'tathians but were small, like infants, and had coarse dark hair, black eyes, prognathious jaws and large sloping foreheads. They ranged in size from short, nearly hairless, black creatures one meter tall weighing barely 3 1/2 kilograms to 14 kilogram hairy creatures nearly 3 meters tall. All were sentient but had no understandable language or speech; just monosyllabic grunts. None had any telepathic ability at all and although small, were the most vicious LT's the P'tath's had ever encountered. The smaller one meter tall creatures closely resembled some previously transplanted LT's and were near perfect genetic matches but were not even from the same galaxy. It always amazed N'arn how different evolutionary ecological systems came up with such similar genetic matches.


There were four or five slightly differing species but all had nearly identical DNA markers. They were intelligent and usually hunted in groups to bring down one or two larger victims. Unlike any other LT, they shared, in some manner, the kill. The largest or most aggressive ones ate first and when full, others ate. N'arn had been disturbed about this group of LT's the most; ever since they had been gathered from eight different planetary systems and had cost the life of over 50 P'tathian gatherers. Gatherers made N'arn look petite and though gentle and kind for the most part, were extremely agile and strong. It disturbed N'arn that so many of them had been killed and a few had even been partially eaten before the LT's had been driven off their intended meals. It was as though they had known they were being gathered for relocation and had made plans to thwart that attempt.


There were at least 150 groups of these creatures circling around larger LT's in the valley. A few had already killed their prey and were carrying off portions of their victims as best they could before having their potential meal taken from them by other groups. One group had even killed a huge LT from a previous relocation and because of its size, were sitting on and around it eating the still warm flesh while other members of the group seemed to stand guard to ward off would be attackers from the kill.


N'arn 'pathed G'ror to start the orbital engines on the pod. She had seen enough killing and bloodshed. The small pod effortlessly disappeared from the habitat's atmosphere and rendezvoused with the cruiser hanging in orbit between the habitat and its satellite. After docking, N'arn went to the communications grid and sent the standard trans-light message of their relocation success. The message included her concerns about the newly discovered and transplanted LT species, their intelligence and pack mentality. She was sure this had already been noted by the Clan Council of Matriarchs but all input was considered during their meetings.


G'ror came into the communications area wiping his broad mouth with the back of his hand, his belly extended somewhat from the extra period at the food dispenser; awarded him by N'arn for his hard work the past habitat rotation. He politely 'pathed his thanks and was about to set down in the only other available seat when the urgent 'pathic roar of the returning answer from the Clan Mothers slammed into his and N'arn's brain. The message was brief and simple; "DANGER"! "Return to the habitat and watch"! Never, in N'arn's memory, had the Clan Mothers 'pathed an answer to a standard report so rapidly and she had never heard a collective 'pathic shout filled with so much dread and dangerous portent. It almost seemed like a shout of fear. The Clan Mothers' last message was even more disturbing. In the history of the LT relocation efforts, there had never been a case where LT's worked together as a unit to kill their victims. Sharing was unheard of and standing guard while others ate was equally unbelievable but the report N'arn had 'pathed to the home world mentioned all this and more.


G'ror knew N'arn was fast but had never seen her sprint to the landing pod. She was at the controls of the small craft before G'ror made it to the docking door and he felt the wind from the pod door slamming shut, even catching a few stray hairs billowing from his back, as he ran to the larger seat where N'arn usually sat when he was piloting the pod. The pod seemed to leap away from the cruiser and drop into the gravity well of the habitat below. A quick glance at the hull sensors made G'ror aware that everything was within safety limits but the hull did glow a brilliant blue-white from the atmospheric friction. Apparently, N'arn had forgotten to engage the gravity nullifying generator in her haste to comply with the Clan Mothers Council's 'pathed message. He reached over to the secondary control panel and engaged the null-g switch, hoping N'arn hadn't seen and if she had, wouldn't be angry with him.


As the pod screamed into the little valley it had left less than a half-rotation before, the relocated creatures scattered like g'luls before a hungry w'heem beast. All, that is, but the newest and most dangerous of the LT's, which N'arn had been 'pathed to come back and watch. They just looked at the pod descending and come to a soundless stop a thousand meters above the valley floor. N'arn and G'ror looked back at the new LT's from their safe and much superior vantage point as more and more of them gathered below, some shaking half-gnawed bones of their recent victims in the air as if they were weapons. It seemed like most of the three to four-thousand new and dangerous LT's had now gathered below, grunting and bellowing and screaming at the P'tathian pod, or possibly N'arn and G'ror, although the LT's couldn't possibly know who or what was in the pod, or even that it was an orbital pod. There was no way they could be a threat to the pod or to the watchers on board. The LT's must know that. One thing was for sure; the LT's knew who brought them to this habitat and none seemed happy about being here.


During this time of the new LT's gathering, the habitat had rotated to where the light of the distant star was blocked and night had fallen in the valley. The crowd below slowly dissipated leaving a few hundred creatures directly beneath the pod. Some were curled up in sleep, others on haunches and perhaps 20 or so of the 3 meter tall creatures just stood and stared at the pod. In their safety, G'ror and N'arn retired to their stasis chambers to rest. Their trip here had allowed little time for rest, or food, for that matter. The alarm sensors had been armed and would awaken them should anything else out of the ordinary happen. Living multi-millennial lives, the P'tathians, when they rested, did so for long periods of time.


This short rest period had lasted nearly 1,000 habitat revolutions around its parent star when the alarm sensors clamored for attention. N'arn was at a viewing port in an instant and was quite surprised to see a large wall of ice at one end of the valley. It seemed to be slowly approaching their location and towered well over their current altitude. N'arn went to the control cabin only to see G'ror disengaging the altitude lock and increase their position nearly ten kilometers above the valley. The wall N'arn had seen turned out to be a river of ice grinding the sides of the facing cliffs bordering the valley to powder and riding atop that river, a few hundred LT's dressed in heavy robes which seemed to be sewn together from the skins of dozens of creatures.


The LT's had long wooden poles with sharpened stones attached to the ends, pieces of tree roots, large on one end and tapered on the other end so as to fit within the LT's hands. All these makeshift weapons were being raised in the air, some even thrown in the direction of the pod. N'arn thought these actions were ridiculous. What did the LT's hope to accomplish? She did realize the LT's had a lot of patience and had made plans "together?" to wait atop the moving ice river and attack the pod with their primitive weapons. N'arn went to the communications grid and 'pathed the Clan Mothers all the information which had been gathered by the alarm sensors over the rest period and what she had seen when awakened by the alarm's warning.


"This race of LT's should be left alone and this habitat should be closed to any future relocations"! N'arn 'pathed with finality. "They are dangerous, cunning and resourceful. Dangerous even to themselves, but seem to be even more dangerous and deadly in the presence of other creatures." "This habitat and the other satellites around this stellar system should be moved, with the parent star, to the outer edges of this galaxy; then this system should be quarantined. No one in and most certainly, no one out!" The answer from the Clan Mothers was almost immediate. "Stay for another normal rest cycle and watch for anything new." "Your sensors can detect the slightest movement of the smallest transplanted creature on the habitat from behind the habitat's small satellite. Take the pod back to the cruiser and wait!" N'arn and G'ror did as they were told and after docking the pod, both went to the feeding chamber, ate their fill, and set all the sensors and alarms. There was not very much to do aboard the cruiser with its nearly automatic controls so they decided to return to their stasis chambers and finish their shortened rest period.


Nearly ten thousand habitat revolutions later, (a normal rest cycle for the P'tathians), it seemed like every alarm and sensor on the cruiser went off at the same time. Feeling a bit lethargic, N'arn sleepily went to the controls and turned them off, looked at the data read-out and 'pathed "GET IN HERE, G'ROR"! An instant later, G'ror stood in the door of the control chamber, rubbing sleep from his eyes which were much larger than normal. N'arn had never 'pathed a scream at him his entire lifespan. What could cause all this urgency? Walking to the controls, he read the data N'arn had seen and began shaking all over.


How could the LT's have advanced to such an extent to where they could control an atomic reaction? No one could evolve and learn that much in one regular rest period; but there it was. The sensors could not lie. The new LT's had set off an atomic blast. Photons and neutrinos were streaming into space. The very crust of the habitat had melted and fused at the point of impact. N'arn rushed to the communications chamber and 'pathed all the gathered data and again requested moving the habitat and the entire system; isolation and quarantine with an added protective measure of warning beacons be placed around the entire system. "Do It And Get Out Of That Sector Of Space" 'pathed the Clan Mothers. Short and to the point. They saw the same danger N'arn had seen and wanted every precaution to be taken. The oldest Clan Matriarch had wanted to clean the habitat of all the transplanted LT's but was overruled by the others because no one could be found who would or could do that particular deed.


The trip home to P'tath was uneventful. N'arn did kid G'ror about the destruction of the fourth satellite in the quarantined stellar system during the move but knew it couldn't be helped. The tiny brown dwarf star it collided with could have wrecked the entire system. No sentient being was hurt and the major portions of the satellite made pretty rings around some of the gaseous satellites. The Clan Mothers had agreed that N'arn's suggestion be implemented and felt they could find other habitats upon which their ongoing relocations would be less hazardous. They would keep watch on the quarantined system with long-range scanners and beam their telepathic warning to any intruders who disregarded the warning beacons. Hopefully, those relocated LT's would never attain stellar flight capabilities.


The End?

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