Don't Bug Me

by Starscribe


Chapter 10

Amie ran.

She’d never been a sprinter before the Transit, or had any interest in endurance sports in general. It was the wilderness that had brought her out to Stella Lacus, not any love for running back and forth along a set course. 

But she spent every day out in the forest, traveling between their traps in search of game. She had months of hiking and climbing and kayaking, repeated for years in this exact camp. She knew the mountains as few others could ever hope to equal.

If she were fleeing alone, she had no doubt her pursuers would very quickly lose her in the woods. Camp Stella Lacus might have a few jeeps to their name, and even some copies of her trail maps, but what good was an automobile on paths barely wide enough for a deer?

She wasn’t alone, though.

Wes kept pace with her for about two minutes, before he collapsed to the ground, his chest heaving with the effort. He looked up in her direction, despair plastered on his face. “You have to… go on without me,” he breathed. “I’m the one they want. If I give up willingly, you can escape.”

She stopped, swearing under her breath. She darted back over, lifting him with her head under his. He was still a little larger, but not much heavier. She got him onto his hooves again, then started walking. “We just have to keep moving,” she grunted. “If I was willing to give you up, I wouldn’t be running away in the first place. Help me!”

He did, struggling along down the trail. She’d chosen one of the more obscure paths, one they were forced to explore further and further as they depleted the supply of game living in camp. Importantly it was also far too mountainous and narrow for even the versatile jeep to make it very far.

Maybe it helped, but it wasn’t enough on its own. They walked on for a few minutes, before she felt the first traces of emotion behind them. Aggression, determination, and ambition, flaring as brightly as their fear.

“They can… feel us, can’t they?” Wes asked. There was little uncertainty in his voice. However their strange senses worked, they all had about the same range. If she could feel their pursuers…

“There’s not very many,” she whispered back, urging him onward. “Maybe they’ll give up? I can only feel… three people.”

“You think we could get far enough away?” Wes asked, hopeful. “Even with our emotions?”

No. There was a reason she had the shotgun hanging on the outside, instead of packed away. “They could give up,” she repeated, urging him to change direction. There was at least one advantage to being able to sense their pursuers—they knew what direction to run to move directly away. 

“Watch the ground here,” she went on. “It changes to a rocky slope after a little ways, just around the bend. They might not see it.”

Even with that warning, she had to catch Wes by one hoof, stopping him from sliding away down the rough mountainside. They scraped and slid their way down the slope, with Amie wishing the whole way that she could expose her wings and fly instead. 

But of all the times to test one of their new abilities, fleeing for their lives from enemies with guns was probably the wrong moment.

The cliff was harder to see and harder to navigate, even with a full moon and bug eyes incredibly sensitive to light. That meant the further they went, the closer their followers came. She could hear at least three separate voices, shouting together. Whether they were yelling about a desire to “save” Stella Lacus, or what they would do as soon as they caught up—she couldn’t tell. 

Nothing she felt was friendly. But she kept her head down, gesturing for Wes to do the same. She didn’t think they would try something as hostile as shooting at fleeing people. Would they?

No one’s been killed in camp before. Mr. Albrecht wouldn’t order them to do that.

They had just rounded the bend away from the slope when she heard the first shout. “We know you’re out there, Amie! Stop running, give up the kid! Albrecht’s orders!”

She didn’t stop, urging her brother forward as fast as he could go. That wasn’t actually that fast, unfortunately.

But they could already sense her. Hiding wouldn’t help.

“We’re leaving!” she yelled back. There would be no way to persuade them personally, she didn’t know this voice. None of her hunting team, that was for sure. “Just turn around and go back! If you keep following us, you could get hurt! Nobody else knows this mountain like I do!”

“Somebody will!” they shouted back. “Don’t run, Amie! Director only wants your brother! He never said anything about you!”

They broke into a run. Wes struggled with each breath, but pushed anyway. Fear was a powerful motivator.

“What do we do?” he asked, terrified. “They’re… still following!”

She nodded weakly. “I’m thinking!” She imagined the cliffside, sloping further and further towards the valley. Soon it would join with the neighboring peak, and the furthest extremes of their exploration. 

We can’t keep running forever. She pictured the position of each of their traps—the little snares, the pits, and metallic bear-traps. A desperate plan formed then. It might be doomed, but it was Wes’s only chance. “There’s a river this way. I’m going to show you exactly where to run, okay? Lots of game pass this way, we filled it with traps. Past it the slope goes up again, to the next peak.”

He nodded. She could already feel the effects of her words. Having a plan, any plan, was enough to give him hope. “That other town? You think they’ll help us?”

She nodded. “Worth a shot. It’s also so far away that we might not be worth following. Once we’re away from camp, we’re safe. People only know the mountain. We’ve been so—”

Something interrupted her, a terrible crashing sound. Rock slid and cracked, along with several pained shouts, followed by a crunch.

It would be better not to sense emotions—that way, she wouldn’t be able to feel the rush of pain and fear, then a sudden absence. Rage flared up from the remaining two creatures, focused intently on her.

A second later, the sound of gunfire broke the darkness—several quiet cracks from the camp’s target-shooting 22 rifles.

The bullets were aimed in her direction, far closer than mad pursuit into the darkness should’ve been. But the trees and rocks were so thick that there was no chance of actually hitting them.

“You’re dead, Amie! Just like Davey! You knew this would happen!”

As he said it, she knew with total confidence he meant it. That wasn’t a threat. She could smell his fury, like their greenish blood trickling down the mountainside.

“We’re almost there!” she called, urging her brother to speed up. “There are plastic butterflies on some of the trees, see them?”

He nodded. Between the terror radiating from him, and being totally out of breath, it was all he could manage.

“They make a path! Stay between them, and there’s no traps! There are snares, nets, and worse stuff hidden near the river. They won’t know about it!”

Seconds later they made it. The smell of pine and rock was joined by living grasses and trees, and the moisture of clear water. 

Their pursuers were running now too. She could feel their pain—it wasn’t just fury at her, but there were injuries from their fall. Not enough to overpower their rage.

“The other side isn’t mapped,” she said, as they reached the first of the plastic butterfly-guides. “Just keep going up the slope. Stay in the trees as much as you can. If you get near that town, no one following will be able to sense you. You’ll be too mixed in with everyone else.”

He stopped, staring at her. “Why… are you saying it like that?”

In answer, she slung the shotgun off her shoulder. She wasn’t sure exactly how she did it—her hooves were all still in the mud, firmly in place. She felt fingers around its familiar barrel anyway. She flicked off the safety, then spun it around once. “They’re not thinking clearly, Wes. If I stay here, I can hide by the river, and bait them into the traps. Once they’re stuck, I can follow you.”

Or maybe do something else.

Gunfire cracked the night again, several shots in their direction. She heard bullets smack into trees, and one sparked off an oversized river-rock.

“Run, Wes! Get as far away from here as you can!”

Tears streamed down his face. He rushed towards her, embracing her in the silly horse-way she was used to, resting his head on her neck. “I love you, Amie. You gotta live through this.” 

She knew it, so brightly it hurt. Like a spotlight in the dark, brighter than the ones on Albrecht’s helicopter. Forget hunger—it felt hot enough that her wings were melting. 

“I love you too, Wes.” She shoved him back as hard as she could, ankle-deep in the river. “Now run! We’re out of time!”

He splashed through the water. He waded to the other side with a little difficulty, then he was out onto the slope, fleeing into the dark. 

He didn’t even say anything about the gun. She glanced to the side, and found it still there, glowing faintly blue around the edges. She could almost see a pair of hands there, in two familiar outlines. How was she doing that?

She didn’t stop to figure out. Instead she turned towards the most dangerous section of riverbed, where the current flowed along a reedy bank. There were dozens of little snares here, along with almost as many heavy metal traps.

They were hunting wolves—the ones they sometimes heard howling late at night. 

They hadn’t caught any today, but she found herself grateful for that. That meant no warning to her pursuers, until it was simply too late.

She had been here when they placed these, so she knew what to avoid. She waded out into the water, then crossed to the other side, sheltering behind an oversized boulder. 

She settled the gun against her back again, and as soon as she did, the glow went out. Good—at least she wouldn’t be giving them anything too obvious to shoot at. Amie crouched low, stoking her fear. She fought back the powerful determination and confidence her brother had impressed on her—that might warn away her pursuers.

Instead, she focused on her terror. She was out of her depth, someone had just died. She had no idea what to do, or what would happen to her when these two bugs caught up. There was nothing for her to do but hide, and hope they didn’t find her.

“It won’t work!” someone yelled, from the other side of the river. “You could try that back on Earth, maybe! But this is Transit! You might as well glow in the dark!”

She crouched lower, curling up against the rock. A few shots went just over her head, smacking into the trees. How much ammo did you bring? Mr. Albrecht hadn’t sent his smartest after her.

“I don’t want to fight you!” she yelled back. “Just let us leave!”

The answer wasn’t even words, but a guttural roar of rage. Someone splashed into the water, marching straight towards her across the river.

“For Equestria!”

The shout didn’t come from the river, or the trail around them—it came from the sky. A battle cry of two voices, one male and one female. Against her better judgment, Amie turned, daring to peek around the rock.

Just in time to see the strangest sight of her life—two flying horses, bearing down from the sky in glittering gold armor with lances aimed directly at two bleeding bugs. 

The river transformed into a battlefield.