Written Off

by Georg

A Matter of Perspective - The Hunt

The Hunt

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The Hunt is on.

My quarry is on the run, blooded and ready for the tracking, while my first Prey lies at my feet. This world is ripe for the Hunt, filled with challenging Prey to prove the Hunter worthy.

Not more than an hour after emerging from my portal and setting up my base camp, I happened upon a mated pair of winged creatures sitting in plain sight upon a small grassy rise near the forest. My first shot caught the older male right in the chest, but the smaller female was far faster than I expected, and streaked away in a trail of rainbow colors before I could get off more than a few reaction shots. From the small specks of blood around their feeding spot, I managed to nick its pale blue pelt with a few of the paralysis darts, and my proximity sensor will allow me to track the wounded creature to its lair.

While I wait for the darts to leech into the fleeing creature and render it immobile, I load the first creature onto the carrier and drag it back to my camp. It is a magnificent dark-blue winged quadruped, fairly small and apparently herbivorous, with a colorful mane arranged in parallel stripes and an attractive face. I am thankful for the foresight that caused me to use paralysis darts when I started on the Hunt, for although the creature would look impressive on my trophy wall, it shall be even more impressive when caged for the admiration of my fellow Hunters. That is, once I have collected his colorful mate still out in the forest somewhere, unconscious now that the darts have completed their work.

I arrange the paralyzed creature at my base camp and bind its limbs in case I am gone for an extended period and it awakens. As a precaution, I add a loop of the unbreakable plastic around a nearby tree so that my trophy cannot be carried away by any larger predator. The defensive turret I leave deactivated, for I do not trust its programming in this new hunting ground, and I have no desire to be shot by my own base camp defenses. My automatic recall would still return me home, but the indignity of the experience would shadow my discovery of new Prey.

Before heading out to collect the large creature’s mate, I examine the primitive devices I have found with them. Obviously these creatures are intelligent, with some sort of manufacturing base to produce the rude cloth and woven basket, as well as the bottles of an unknown fluid that my protein analyzer determines to be some sort of fruit juice, and safe for me to drink.

It is delicious, an obvious secondary resource to extract from this new world once the Hunt is over and all of the Prey has been collected. Far too many worlds have been stripped of their Prey and left the Hunters without a proper challenge. Perhaps this one will last longer than most.

For a moment, I stand in the forest clearing in which I have made my camp and breathe in the dank musk of the decaying leaves, the scent floating through the trees, and the gentle breeze that cools the sweat that trickles down from my helmet. It would be tempting to keep the knowledge of this world a secret, my own private hunting lodge to which I could retreat whenever in need of the touch of the outdoors and the thrill of the Hunt. It could never last, as my fellow Hunters would eventually trace the dimensional signature through the trophies and captives that I would accumulate. Far better to register the coordinates of this rich world upon my return and harvest the fees as Hunters flock to the new Hunting grounds.

Dreams of my upcoming wealth fill my mind as I follow the second quadruped by way of the tracking devices embedded in the paralysis darts. The classification of ‘Pegasus’ seems to fit these colorful new winged Prey, creatures much as the ancient legends from the distant past say once roamed my home world. Perhaps an race of Hunters was the cause of their extinction, and properly restrained samples of these ‘Pegasi’ could be reintroduced into the few wildlife refuges that still remain, once properly processed to remove any traces of sentience, of course. So lost am I in my thoughts that I am shocked into nearly dropping my rifle when the tracers that signify the position of the second pegasus suddenly dart into motion, curving around my position and streaking back towards my base camp.

The creature must have a metabolism like a blast furnace in order to burn through the toxin that coats the darts and still be able to move. Unconsciously, I toggle the fire selector on the rifle to automatic as I run, although I do not switch the ammunition type to flechettes just yet. There is still the possibility of capturing the magnificent specimen, if I can get enough darts into its body as I did the other. I burst into the clearing where I have set up my base camp and swing the rifle to cover the second pegasus, who is attempting to free its mate from the bindings. The bound pegasus shouts a warning, and my Prey streaks away before I can aim, reducing my precise shot worthy of a Hunter into a stream of darts that still manages to miss.

This Prey is far more worthy of the Hunt than I had thought. I put an additional paralysis dart into the first pegasus as it struggles against the unbreakable bindings and snaps in my direction. It would not do for the creature to injure itself before I return to my home and place it in a viewing cell. For herbivores, the pegasi seem to be violent beyond expectations. Some selective neural surgery may even be required for the captives, in order for them to accept their proper status.

For now, I concentrate on the remaining Prey. Keeping the proximity alarm turned to its highest setting, I rummage through my supplies. As fast as the creature is, a net trap should still ensnare it into immobility, and I have the perfect bait for the trap in its mate. The faint bleeping of the alarm indicates the Prey is distant, circling my camp in search of an opportunity to reach its mate again. I pretend to ignore its observation and continue working, laying out the traplines and arranging the compressed nets under the glaring eyes of the paralyzed pegasus. As much as it pretends to violence, those soft golden eyes are not the eyes of a killer. There can only be the Prey and the Hunters, and there is no doubt to which category it belongs.

After I finish with the traps, I turn my attention to the portal elements which are to be my way home. It took an immense amount of power to open a hole through space-time to this location without a return beacon. Now that I have set up the components, the relatively puny power cells I was able to transport will be able to generate a return portal for several cycles until I can bring a more permanent installation. It would be a waste of power to use the portal for the return of a single Prey. After the second is captured and restrained, it would be a good idea to collect several more, perhaps a full family group which could be arranged in a diorama once properly processed by the taxidermist. The protein analyzer indicates the flesh of these creatures is consumable, but a few steaks will be a more accurate determination of their worthiness as Prey.

My concentration is broken by the scream of the proximity alarm. The second creature darts across the forest clearing in a pale blue streak trailing rainbows despite the load of paralysis venom in its blood. It is fast, so rapid that I nearly cannot get my rifle up before it is upon me, but its target is not a Hunter. It fairly blazes across the trapped ground where I have restrained its mate, leaving behind my entire collection of nets all tangled into a whirling ball in its slipstream. It is an arrogant maneuver for Prey, showing its contempt for my actions even as I pump a few more darts in the direction it flees.

The trapped Prey chuckles, giving a brief sneeze as it blinks away the dust that covers my camp. Apparently my humiliation is pleasurable to it, and I barely restrain myself from shooting another paralysis dart into it in return. The thrill of the Hunt is upon me, and I scan the treeline into which the Prey has vanished in the hopes of it returning.

Time passes as my blood cools. This is always the part of the Hunt that frustrates me most. The proximity sensor can direct me towards the distant Prey and the tiny machines in its bloodstream that broadcast its location, but it still is much faster than any Hunter. I must wait its return while shorn of another tool of the Hunters. The ball of adhesive nets is tangled beyond any ability to salvage, and I begin to regret not bringing more of my equipment through the portal. The pegasus may be able to dodge slow projectiles, but a beam weapon would pluck it out of the sky. Some Hunters are overly cautious, with powered body armor and multiphasic weaponry for even the simplest Prey, while others prefer to match their physical prowess against Prey with nothing more than a scrap of cloth and a spear. I have sought a proper challenge across dozens of worlds, risking death or dismemberment in my quest to be a Hunter, and this is the closest I have been to parity.

Hours pass while I wait. The Prey remains within range of my sensor, flitting about the forest as if it were searching for something, but with short trips back to the clearing to check on its mate and my position. Every time it returns, I lay in wait. If it strays into my vision for even a fraction of a second, I will drop it without hesitation, but it remains remarkably concealed for a creature with so many colors.

After each failed capture attempt, I return to the base camp and check my gear. The first Prey begins to attempt communication with a series of whinnies and snorts while drawing lines and geometric figures in the grass with one hoof, much like other Prey on other worlds I have visited. I ignore it, except to pour some water into a bowl and place it within reach of the creature. It could be several hours before I capture its mate, and days before we return home where it can be properly caged. It would be foolish to allow it to expire.

The day draws near to an end as I set up the camp for the night. It takes just a few minutes to unpack the automatic defenses that I was so reluctant to deploy before. Four sensor paddles driven into the moist earth will ensure even the fastest predator will be detected before it reaches my camp, and a full case of paralysis darts loaded into the automatic needler will take care of the rest. I am very careful to map out an exclusion zone within the camp, because these darts are much heavier than the ones in my rifle, and would render me helpless in seconds.

With the upcoming sunset comes a strange noise out in the forest, a howling of sorts mixed in with the jubilant sounds of the missing Prey. My first Prey seems upset at the noise, straining at its bonds and muttering something in its strange language that sounds vaguely profane. The proximity sensor shows the Prey heading straight for my camp, in short bursts of speed that correspond with the distant angry howls growing much closer. Even as prepared as I am, I an caught unaware when the pale blue Prey bursts out of the treeline and heads in my direction at such a rapid rate that it is past me and gone before I can even pull the trigger.

However, there still is Prey.

Streaking out of the forest edge is a huge beast that appears to be made out of trees. Green fire burns from its eyes and mouth as it flings itself forward with a scream of rage, and I am barely able to depress the activation switch on the sentry cannon before it is halfway across the forest clearing. A stream of heavy paralysis darts vanish into its woody body, spraying small flecks of wood from the impact points, but not slowing its rapid charge in the least. The automatic needler fires a second burst, then a third, before switching to a continuous stream of fire that vanishes into the wooden monstrosity with no more effect than to change the target of the beast’s ire. I add my own ineffective fire to the automatic defenses, running completely through a clip of paralysis darts before the Prey smashes into the camp, one wooden paw descending onto the sentry cannon in a burst of sparks and metal parts.

I switch my rifle to flechettes and saw a long burst through the Prey’s torso. Branches and twigs fly, and the beast staggers, falling to the ground as I direct the spray of sharpened steel to truncate wooden limbs from its body. The rifle clicks empty at the same instant the creature collapses into a heap of mismatched branches, and I attempt to calm my heart while reloading.

A small noise draws my attention back to where I have restrained my first Prey. The colorful pegasus has one of the previously-fired flechettes in its teeth, attempting to saw through the bonds of its mate. With my heart still pounding to the excitement of the Hunt, I raise my rifle even as the larger Prey shoves his mate behind him. It ruins my shot, giving the smaller Prey time to streak away into the distance with no more wounds than a few colorful hairs floating to the ground behind it.

I am still quaking with rage when I see the expression on the restrained Prey. It should have been jubilant over the escape of its mate, or at least smirking at my defeat, but instead it was looking with growing horror at where I had felled the large wooden Prey beast. Splintered wooden limbs were lifting into the air in a glowing green force field of some sort, reassembling the creature at a rate far faster than I imagine possible. I empty a second magazine of flechettes into the creature, then a third, finally throwing a bundle of signal flares into the quivering pile of wood and watching suspiciously as it burns. This is one Prey that will not be found on any Hunter’s wall or in their menagerie without serious equipment and powered armor.

Still, it burns well, and adds a comfortable heat to the campsite as the night falls.

The alien stars above stare down on me as the night passes on, a thousand silver eyes in the sky watching as I remain by the the dying fire and wait. The restrained Prey had attempted to hide the sliver of steel left by its mate, as expected, and I decide on an enforced nap for the creature instead of allowing it to plan mischief through the night.

The second Prey has considerable potential, once fitted with proper restraints and a punishment device for training. The way it herded the wooden Prey back to my camp was ingenious for an untrained creature. Once trained, it would make a useful assistant in the Hunt, drawing Prey to the Hunter until its inevitable loss at the claws or fangs of another Prey.

The creature has settled down for the evening, as the proximity sensors determine it has nested a few hundred lengths above the ground, in a distant bank of clouds. An odd place to rest, but it is beyond the range of my weaponry from here, and possibly yet another scheme to lure me away from its mate.

I rest, awaiting the dawn and the resumption of the Hunt.

Before the sun rises, I arrange the first Prey on the carrier and drag it behind me as I slip through the darkness in the direction of the second Prey’s tracker. It may think itself safe, concealed in the clouds above the Hunter, but it is only Prey.

Once I reach my destination, I prepare the flyer and load its projector with paralyzing darts. It is nearly silent, rising into the darkness on ducted fans and guided to its destination by the beacon of the darts still embedded in the Prey’s skin. I watch carefully on the display as the flier breaks through the clouds and focuses on the target, illuminated in starlight and the soft warmth of the upcoming sunrise.

It is a piece of bark, with several bloodstained paralytic darts stuck in the center.

The sun rises above the horizon in one rapid motion, coating the ground with golden sunshine and causing the flyer to burst into a cloud of molten metal and burning plastics. Highlighted in the glare of the rising sun are a large number of Prey, led by two horned pegasi much larger than the Prey lying bound in the carrier at my feet. They are descending upon my position with slow, deliberate wing strokes, exposed to my fire as I raise my rifle and flip the selector to paralytic darts. The electronic sights line up perfectly on the chest of the largest Prey, a brilliant white pegasus wearing some sort of golden apparatus on its head, and I stroke the trigger almost lovingly before sliding the sights over to the second largest Prey. The dark pegasus seems almost contemptuous of my aim, pausing in mid-air with wings spread wide as if to ensure the most precise shot placement as I stroke the trigger the second time. And then a third. And a fourth.

The silvery paralytic darts have stopped directly in front of my targets, held immobile as if they had struck a transparent partition. I flip the selector lever on my rifle to flechettes and hold the trigger all the way back until the magazine is empty with little more effect than to irritate the larger of the two Prey. The barrel of my rifle glows red, then white, before bursting in a spray of molten metal that makes me flinch away and reach for the emergency recall on my belt.

I fail to reach it.

The same golden energy that stopped my shots so effortlessly holds me in a crushing grip as the second horned Prey sweeps down from the sky and lands directly in front of me. A blade made out of darkness appears in front of her, and with a dispassionate expression more suited for stepping on a bug, she swings it down.

The pain is incredible, but limited to a single line of fire that cuts me from head to the waist. Again and again, that impossibly sharp blade descends to cut away equipment and clothing, leaving behind a thin line of blood seeping up through my skin wherever it touches. It is a display of control that even the most skilled Hunter would be hard put to match, and I see the hardness in her eyes that the other Prey lacked. This one is a killer, a Prey who had slain before and would be perfectly willing to slay again. The blade continues to slice and dart around my naked body until the larger pale Prey lands to her side and speaks a single word.

Where the dark horned pegasus was a lethal Prey worthy of a Hunter and willing to kill, the white horned pegasus possesses a sense of enormous power held back by great restraint. A Hunter seeking this Prey’s hide on his trophy wall would be well advised to bring as much armor and weaponry as they could carry, and Hunt in a pack. Those dark eyes speak of the willingness to burn an entire world into a cinder in protection of its kind, and I shudder at the thought of the death that awaits me.

Still held immobile in the golden energy field, I am dragged back to my base camp with the first and second Prey walking by my side, conversing with the two horned pegasi. It is an enthusiastic conversation, with much pointing and bared teeth on behalf of the pegasi, and much nodding by both of the large horned pegasi. Any hope of triggering my failsafe and being dragged back through my portal is dashed in two ways.

First is the way the dark horned pegasus treated the blood-soaked pile of my possessions that were left after she had cut them off my body. As she concentrated, a dark energy had surrounded them, compressing them into a small ball of materials that shrank while glowing red with the heat of compression until nothing was left but a blackened ball the size of a fist.

The second is the sight of a third horned pegasus of a soft violet hue gleefully disassembling my portal generator while scratching away on notes. As she disposes of each piece, it too glows with the light of the dark Prey’s energy and turns into a small smoldering ball of scrap, until the last piece is gone and a surge of her power somehow manages to pull the pieces of the portal generator from my world to this one. She giggles in amusement as she begins to disassemble this technological puzzle too, and my last hope of returning home alive dies with it.

Her actions will not help save this world. When I die, the small ball of metal in my skull will return to my world, where other Hunters will be able to calculate the coordinates of my final demise. Prey that can kill a Hunter is rare, and my kind will flock to this world in search of the Hunt. The more challenging the Prey, the more fierce the Hunters who will respond. The sky will fill with Hunters in armored suits and vehicles, in whatever numbers needed to bring down the Prey.

I am lost in my imaging of my fate while three of the horned pegasi converse among each other, and frozen in shock as they create a free-standing portal between them without any mechanisms or power sources. I am lifted with little effort and held in front of the glowing ripple in space, then the white horned pegasus tosses me through almost negligently much as if she were disposing of a piece of trash.

I am alive.

Although I am both naked and covered in bleeding scratches in the middle of a forest somewhere, I am still alive. The Prey may possess incredible power, but they are fools to have released me in this fashion. Once I gain the attention of another Hunter, I will bargain with the coordinates to their world in return for transportation home. The Prey will make me rich beyond my imagination as scores of Hunters pay any price to travel to their world and Hunt.

First, priorities.

Damp earth feels almost pleasurable under my bare feet as I stagger forward through the thick brush in search of food and water, wincing as the branches brush against my bloody skin. The scent of water is close, and where there is water, a Hunter can always find Prey to eat and weapons to create.

Out of some sense of familiar caution, I look back before reaching the water and freeze at what I see. There is a bipedal alien, dressed in rugged clothes and carrying a well-worn rifle emerging from the forest scrub. It holds a broken leaf with a smear of red upon it, one of the same branches that I carelessly brushed against on my rush to the watering hole. It looks up and catches my eye at the same time I notice the bare skulls attached to its belt. Whatever the species of the creature, it is a Hunter, and from the looks of its Prey, it does not care to capture.

A surge of adrenaline drives me through the rough brush as I hear the crack of the alien’s rifle and feel the splinters of wood spray from the trees I am dashing through. His quarry is blooded and fleeing, ready for the tracking as I plunge naked into the forest.

The Hunt is on.

Author's Note:

From the June 2015 Writeoff.me A Matter Of Perspective (long form) where it placed a dismal 45 out of 57. I really thought it should have done better, even though there were some real gems in that one like TD’s Dying To Get There.

The perspective for this story is a Hunter, of a race which has Hunted great swaths of the galaxy. Today, he comes to Equestria, and happens upon Rainbow Dash and her father out having a picnic. (Yes, father. Hopefully I left enough clues.) He manages to capture Spectrum, but is driven to distraction attempting to catch Rainbow Dash until reinforcements (of the pony variety) arrive. From the events afterwards, it may be assumed that Celestia has encountered these Hunters before and knows how to deal with them.

Note the mirroring of the beginning and the end of the story. I was particularly proud of the way I managed to tie the two ends together. Threaten Celestia’s little ponies at your peril.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

Ah, yes, I fondly remember this one. Awesome stuff, especially since the use of a "pegasus" designation implies that some way, somehow, this Hunter is human, as opposed to, say, a Yautja, which he may have encountered at the end. Very glad to see this on Fimfiction... though if my records are to be believed, I never actually reviewed this one in the Competition. Which is odd, because I definitely remember it. Maybe I just don't have it saved on my computer.

Still, I definitely agree that this should've done better. Not nearly enough good sci-fi or suspense on this site.

[Lancerlot]

7335350
I'm rooting for all that it caries.