Scree rested in her private office and withdrew the memory chip from the secure HTI data pod. She hummed to herself the very catchy tune from “We’re going on a Little Hunt” that played repeatedly. A stray thought came to her that despite saying they had more variety, the music channels repeated certain songs a lot. HTI was a good channel sponsor.

  The hunting had been going smoothly since the orbital cleansing. The Tri-D special of ‘A Hunting Adventure with Sir Nitram’’ was a hit with the Federation public, with new hunters purchasing their chance at adventure in record numbers. If popularity continued in this fashion, it wouldn’t be long before her bonus was larger than her regular pay!

  She place the memory chip into her computer and opened the latest message. And froze.

  The Emperor!

  Scree glanced over to look at the latest report of hunter casualties on her other monitor. It was tracking along at close to fifty percent of parties. And it was that high even though the Matter Transmission Technicians chose less populated areas for hunts. She reminded herself that HTI investigators had determined the majority of casualties were caused by ‘mis-adventure’ or hunter ignorance. Non Compatible locals were not the problem. It was the hunters’ own fault.

  Scree read the rest of the message carefully. The Emperor was coming to Dirt for his turn at a hunt. Happily she read that Patter had convinced the Emperor’s defence counsel, Lord De’ath, to send down a platoon of thirty troopers of the Emperor’s Personal Imperial Guards.

  Thirty PIGs was impressive. Becoming a member of the Personal Imperial Guards was a coveted position filled exclusively by the Federation of Planets planet of Shoat. Shoat was discovered by the Federation about two hundred years ago and apparently was barely classified as Off Limits. HTI had lobbied to have them reduced to Non Compatible, but anti-hunter opponents worked out a deal. If the Shoats provided citizens to be members of the Emperor’s Personal Imperial Guard, HTI would back off.

  HTI supporters have worked since then to reverse that decision, but Imperial decisions were very difficult to reverse.

  Shoats are very solid. They reminded Scree of the Dirt creatures Dirtlings called boars, but Shoats were eight feet tall, thick muscled bodies with very sharp tusks and a solid skull. FedNet entertainment considered them dull, stupid brutes, but few had actually talked to any as the Shoats kept to themselves.

  With such an entourage, the Emperor would be arriving at Dirt in the ‘Emperor 1’ a very large Federation battle cruiser.

  Scree groaned. Although she didn’t want to, she would have to speak with Harrick. Even though it was unlikely that the Emperor would listen to any reason, Harrick and his Hunter Safety Team were the best option to provide local information about the Dirtling military capabilities. She needed them to be on the ‘Emperor 1’ and be ready to do their thing. Just in case.

  ****

  “Hey Hendon,” said Clinton as he, Hendon and Harrick relaxed around their room’s round table, “Have you seen the ‘Hunting Adventure with Sir Nitram’?”

  Hendon grunted and said, “No. I don’t want to ruin my lunch. It will be rubbish anyway.”

  Harrick looked at Clinton and asked, “Why? What’s interesting about it to you?”

  “Well,” said Clinton, turning his screen around to show Hendon and Harrick, “It’s pretty much a very closely edited series of snapshots from the hunt. We are in none of the shots as we arrived after Sir Nitram was beamed up. Sir Nitram looks very brave.”

  Hendon scoffed and Harrick waved his paws for Clinton to continue, “In some of the links there is an interview with Solcrend, the leader of the Imperial Guards.”

  Hendon sat up in interest, “Yeah, I spoke with him afterwards. We had a drink together and he opened up a bit. He was sure he would lose his job after this disaster, but he was happy to share with me what happened on Sir Nitram’s hunt. As expected, almost everything that went wrong was because Sir Nitram ignored any instructions or advice. But he would spread the word to his fellow Imperial Guards that the Dirtlings can be a pretty competent military. The guards just weren’t ready for that type of opposition.”

  Clinton agreed and added, “He didn’t go into those details, certainly not online, but he did slip in some warnings that it could be dangerous on Dirt.”

  Harrick thought of the increasing roster of hunts, “It doesn’t seem to have deterred anyone.”

  “No, that’s the interesting thing,” said Clinton, “I was watching the video and I could see comments and likes changing in real time, up - and down. Comments being deleted just after they were posted and user accounts blocked. There is massive work behind the scenes by someone to massage anything about Dirt.”

  “We’re certainly busy,” said Hendon, “I reckon our team is now probably one of the most experienced military units in the Federation.”

  “That’s because we are being sharpened by constant involvement in dangerous situations,” said Harrick, “All the other military forces are used in overwhelming force or against underwhelming opponents. We are focussed and dedicated to our mission.”

  Clinton and Hendon nodded. Since Clinton’s near death experience in his first hunt on Dirt, protecting VIPs over a year ago, he had gained incredible experience by working alongside the veteran Hendon and his boss Harrick. The Hunter Safety Team had rescued countless hunters that had ended their hunts in extreme danger or tragedy. In the process they had gained a level of mutual respect with most of those they meet, especially the Dirtling military response force known as ARRG.

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  “Does it seem like all this,” Clinton spread his arms indicating the HTI resort and the hunting, “is all leading to a crisis. I can’t see how the hunts can continue like this with casualties increasing.”

  “Nah,” said Hendon, “Casualties don’t matter. They are written off as hunter error or accidents. There’s too many credits on the line.”

  Harrick throat grumbled and he said, “I think Clinton’s right. I have a gut feel something big is coming.”

  Harrick’s communicator dinged and he saw a message. The latest public Data Pod had arrived and private messages were distributed through the local version of FedNet.

  A huge grin broke out on Harrick’s normally dour face and he leaned back in his chair.

  Hendon eyed him curiously and Clinton couldn’t wait, “What? What is your message?”

  Harrick, still smiling broadly said, “It’s from Hettie.” He paused and laughed.

  Sitting up he looked at his comrades in arms and announced, “I am a father. Of four. Three boys and a girl.”

  Clinton and Hendon cheered aloud. The other eight members of the Hunter Safety team came out of their rooms and Hendon told them the news, “Harrick’s a dad!”

  They all cheered and brought out some Fizzy from various storage areas and began their impromptu celebration.

  “You’ll need some leave!” said a happy Clinton, looking to Hendon for confirmation, “We’ll cover you while you’re gone.”

  Harrick glanced down at his communicator as another message dinged.

  He stood up and said, “I’ll be back shortly. Scree wants to see me.”

  Hendon sighed, “Scree is trouble. I reckon his leave will be delayed.”

  ****

  Mary Sue Jane had been enjoying her hunt on Dirt despite Jeff, the weird creature that lived inside a box with arms and legs. Mary Sue Jane was a sensible hive mind goose-like creature - one being spread across three creatures. They were even able to go in a hunt using one ticket after a bit of an argument with the HTI hunt booking offer. “One mind one ticket!” she had declared.

  “Fine!” said the HTI hunt booking officer, “Only one set of gear and you share the same seat on the shuttle.”

  Holding on to her ticket, Mary Sue Jane happily waddled away to prepare for her special hunting trip on Dirt.

  She wasn’t so proud now. Sue had been sucked out of a flying vessel when Jeff blew a hole in the side with an errant energy blast. Sue had been happily flapping her wings to slow her descent when this huge flying creature swooped down and ate her. Mary Jane felt the loss hard.

  The flying vessel eventually crash landed and Mary and Jane were separated.

  Mary staggered away from the downed vessel and was surprised by a wheeled vehicle rushing towards her. She stopped and looked over her danger glasses which had remained perched on her bill the whole trip. Mary Sue Jane hadn’t liked the new models and was able to convince the nice Uncle Bob’s Emporium employee to sell her a classic set of Danger Glasses for a slight premium.

  The vehicle stopped and two Dirtlings in blue uniforms opened the front doors and hid behind them. Lights were flashing on the roof and they looked a little nervous. Considering the situation, she could understand their concern. Here she was, an elegant goose-like creature with excellent fashion sense, wearing dark glasses and little else. Behind here was the burning wreckage of a large flying vessel. She was tired, angry and had lost or destroyed all of her gear. One third was lost with Sue, one third was with Jane and Mary had somehow broken or lost almost all of hers. All she had left was the Danger Glasses and the shared communicator.

  “Stop right there!” shouted one of the Dirtlings, waving some sort of weapon at her.

  Mary stared hard at it over her glasses.

  The Dirtling looked across at the other Dirtling.

  Mary had enough of this. She puffed up her feathers and sqwuaked loudly, spreading her wings wide and charged at the vehicle. One of the Dirtlings jumped back into the vehicle and began to reverse away slowly while the other one staggered backwards.

  “Hey Merv!” shouted the staggering one, “What’cha doing?”

  “We’re not paid enough for this,” shouted Merv over the noise of the engine, “That’s a FOP!”

  “Bloody hell!” shouted the staggering Dirtling who quickly stumbled into the vehicle and slammed the door closed. The vehicle reversed faster, spun around and raced off into the distance with lights blaring and a loud siren began wailing too.

  Mary stopped and stared at the departing humans.

  “There,” she said in satisfaction, ‘Take that!”

  “Hello,” came a voice from her communicator, “Are you ready to beam up?”

  “Yes!” shouted Jeff, “Get us out of here!”

  Before Mary could answer, she saw a shadow loom over her and catch her in a large claw. Then she shimmered in blue and dematerialised.

  Moments later, she reappeared at the Matter Transmission Station, still clutched in the claw of the huge creature. In shock, the creature let her go and she dropped to the ground.

  Before she could react, a red sleeved arm pulled her out of the transmission pad area and she noticed another arm had withdrawn Jeff the same way.

  “Send it back!” shouted a voice and the startled winged creature disappeared.

  Mary felt a sudden loss.

  “Where is Jane?” she cried out.

  Clinton stepped up and knelt down beside her, “Ma’am, where is she?”

  “Jane is down on Dirt. We had to share a communicator and I had it. Ohhh, I feel weak.” Mary said, dropping towards the floor. Clinton picked her up and Hendon stepped close, “Can you sense here if she is nearby?”

  Faintly, Mary said, “Yes.”

  Hendon pointed at Nelson manning the MTS while his team rushed to the transmission pads, “Nelson! Send us back and man your station. Be ready to beam us up when I call you!”

  Nelson shook his head in agreement and pressed the button.

  The Hunter safety team landed in formation with weapons ready. Clinton was cradling a distraught Mary. He and Hendon were surrounded by the four troopers all watching the area for trouble. They saw the burning wreckage and the desert around them.

  Clinton asked Mary softly, “Can you sense Jane?”

  Mary shook her head slowly, indicating she could.

  “Tell her to come out and we’ll get her.”

  “Over there!” shouted Hendon as he saw another goose-like creature stagger out of the wreckage.

  “Get her!” he commanded to two of the faster troopers who raced towards Jane.

  “Sir!” said one of the remaining guards pointing upwards. A huge winged creature Clinton knew to be a wedge tailed eagle circled, watching them. Spotting a staggering Jane it dived towards her.

  “Shall I fire, Sir?” asked the trooper.

  “Wait,” commanded Hendon, “Track it but hold fire.”

  He watched his other troopers race towards Jane. The eagle was fast! The lead trooper caught Jane while running and rolled holding her tight in a protective grasp.

  “Now!” yelled Hendon into his communicator and the whole group disappeared as the eagle grasped at empty air.

  They rematerialised and Clinton and the trooper moved closer allowing Mary and Jane to connect.

  “Come on,” said Clinton, “Let’s take you to medical.”

  Hendon looked at his communicator and said to himself, “Nine minutes. Excellent.”

  ****