"FULL MOON S_F_ - THE LAST UTUNDI (H_B_B_ McGhee)" - читать интересную книгу автора (McGhee H B B)
FULL MOON S.F. - THE LAST UTUNDI (H.B.B. McGhee)
THE LAST UTUNDI
H.B.B. McGhee
Atgull would be the first to admit he was not a brave man, in fact he'd
admit to often being a coward; but that wasn't why he had not joined the
villagers in their final 'do or die' battle with the Imperial forces.
Atgull was an outcast. It all went back to something his father had
done many years ago; something that neither his parents nor anyone else
would ever discuss. His father had died many seasons ago, but Atgull had
never been forgiven for his father's actions and so he had had to live in
this shanty shack outside of the village, scraping by on a subsistence
existence. It really didn't matter to him whether it was the villagers or
the Imperium that were his rulers; to him, each was as bad as the other.
So he hid in the undergrowth as the villagers marched past. They were
all there, even women with young babies; to them nothing short of total
commitment was necessary. They cursed, spat and swore at Atgull's house as
they passed. Then the stones smashed the windows and rattled off the
rickety walls. Finally, a burning stake was hurled. The tinderbox dry home
was quickly engulfed in flames that left nothing but a pile of
smouldering, charred timbers.
When they were finally out of sight, Atgull crept out of his hiding
place. He ruefully regarded the destruction of his home - they had had no
right to do that. It was a criminal act. He decided to gain retribution
while they were gone; not in a destructive manner, but in a positive way
for himself.
He made his way cautiously around the outskirts of the village until he
was satisfied that it was indeed deserted, then he entered the encampment.
He picked up a handcart and began to move from dwelling to dwelling. Where
the door was not secured, he entered and removed foodstuffs, blankets and
clothing. 'Let those who took away, give back,' he bitterly thought to
himself.
He entered one of the bigger houses, perched on top of the hill; it was
obvious this belonged to one of the village elders. Atgull nodded to
himself, he would take most from here.
As he strode through the door, he found himself confronted by a
stranger! "Are you from the Imperium," he gasped, hoping the being
understood his dialect of the Galactic tongue. "I am not part of the local
army. I pose no threat to you. I owe no allegiance to these people. I have
no weapons. I just ask to live my life in peace."
The stranger regarded him quietly for a moment. "You've got me wrong,
boy. I'm not directly involved in this battle. I'm just an observer; a
recorder." He paused again, then held out his hand in friendship. "Sammy
'Scoop' Stevens, currently on contract to Galactic News." He pointed at
machines he had assembled. "I'm onto an exclusive here, boy, believe me.
I've been following the Imperial Fleet in this quadrant for over a year
now. Soon, maybe here on this planet, we'll witness the beginning of their
end. Their chain of command and supply routes are in tatters. They no
longer have any serious weapons; it's down to hand to hand combat now. The
once invincible Imperium are on their knees out here; defeat is imminent."
"You're a newsman?" Atgull queried.
"Yep," Stevens replied, "and the only one out here. When their defeat
comes, my recording of it will make me a rich man indeed!" He looked
slightly anxious. "Say, if this is your place, I'm sorry, boy, but it was
the highest point around here, better reception for my scanners."
Atgull shook his head. "No problems on that count," he responded
evasively.
Stevens turned to the scanners. Several ships were coming down to land
near the band of villagers. "Looks like the shows about to get on the
road," he muttered, making final adjustments to some of his controls.
Atgull watched impassively as the soldiers poured out of the ships and
ferocious hand to hand fighting began. What Stevens had said was true, the
soldiers of the Imperium had no sophisticated weapons at their command.
Like the villagers, they fought with clubs and spears.
The commitment of the villagers was absolute, even small children waded
into the melee; women with babies had them strapped to their backs as they
fought beside their menfolk. Casualties were high on both sides, but it
was clear the locals had gained the upper hand. Oblivious to their own
massive losses, they pressed forward again. The few remaining Imperium
warriors were almost back to their own ships.
"They don't know how to accept defeat," Stevens muttered. "It's clear
they've lost this battle. If it was me, I'd get back in those ships and
get the hell out of it while I was still alive."
The soldiers had been driven back into one of the invader's ships and
the remaining villagers were attacking the hull, trying to force their way
inside. Suddenly the whole area was engulfed in a massive ball of flame
and a series of explosions ensued, so powerful that they even shook the
ground where Atgull and Stevens stood.
The newsman shook his head. "Damn fools, they blew up their own ships
in order to take the locals with them. I guess they thought a draw was
better than defeat." His mood brightened. "What the hell, I've got it
here! The end of the Imperium's colonial adventure. I've got to get this
stuff to the nearest planet with a relay station that links to back home.
Then I'll have it made for the rest of my life!" He began to collect up
his stuff. "Good to meet you, boy. Be lucky."
And then he was gone.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
A few hours later, Atgull had summoned enough courage to visit the area
of the battle. It proved impossible to reach the actual site, for the
devastation was absolute, there were clearly no survivors, nor even the
need to bury the dead. Everything had been destroyed, ripped apart and
burnt beyond recognition.
He realised that he was alone. As far as he knew, if there were other
inhabitants on this continent, they had never made contact with the
villagers.
It slowly dawned on him that everything in the village was now his to
claim. It was with a grim, but quiet satisfaction that he returned to the
village, electing to make the large house on the hill his new home. Having
taken up residence, he then systematically worked his way through the rest
of the village, now not just taking foodstuffs and clothing, but stripping
every house of any of items of value.
The next day he set about knocking down the fences between the small
paddocks, creating one huge field where he corralled the various herds of
animals the villagers had owned.
That evening he surveyed his new estate. He smiled for the first time
in many years. He was a rich man!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Atgull worked relentlessly over the rest of that season and when it
drew to its close, he was ready.
The traders arrived on time, as they did at the end of each cycle. They
were not concerned why Atgull was there instead of the village elders;
they were businessmen and traders, and Atgull had much to trade. They were
honest folk, who drove a hard bargain and they did not physically present
a danger to Atgull, though they could have overpowered him and taken
everything had they so wished, but Atgull knew they were men of honour,
who had a reputation to maintain.
Atgull traded the livestock and material wealth he had collected for
seeds to plant, weapons to protect him, slaves from a nearby planet to
work for him, materials to construct his grand palace and soldiers to
protect him.
He flourished. His wealth grew; now he had a great empire of his own.
Now he was proud to be a Utundan, for he was the only one. He had used the
female slaves he'd purchased to satisfy his physical needs, but now he
sought a mate to ensure his line would continue.
He found a woman of great beauty and breeding, whose families wealth
almost matched his own. Their two races were of similar origin. A deal was
struck. King Atgull of Utundi would soon have a Queen. Her ship was due
this very day.
There; it approached, now visible in the sky.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Stevens had become a bitter man. All the effort he'd put into his
exclusive story had been in vain. The authorities on the home world had
suppressed it; they dared not reveal their own fallibility, even in some
remote corner of the Galaxy. Far from being rich and famous, they
considered him dangerous, he knew too much, had seen too much. He was
lucky to have escaped with his life.
He met up with a disillusioned space fleet officer from the Imperium
and hi-jacked one of the Fleet's ships and they had headed off into deep
space.
"Don't worry," Stevens assured his companion, "I tell you this place is
perfect, nice climate, fertile, well out of the way and inhabited by some
kid who wouldn't say boo to a goose. It's ours for the taking, I assure
you. We'll soon be rich men..."
Stevens' companion grunted and turned the ship into a landing orbit,
heading for the same co-ordinates where the ex-newsman had landed
previously.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
King Atgull looked down with imperious contempt at the two men who
stood before him.
"Say, boy," Stevens protested nervously, "don't you remember me?"
"You will address me as 'Royal Lord'," Atgull announced. He clicked his
fingers and his soldiers forced the two men to kneel. "You were lucky you
were not blasted from the sky as you approached," Atgull continued, "for
that is how we deal with unannounced strangers. It was only the fact that
I was expecting someone, that you managed to land unscathed."
"We come in peace," Stevens wailed. "I just wanted to see how you were
getting on..."
"Fool," Atgull cursed arrogantly, "you were laden with weapons. You
thought this an easy target for you to loot and pillage. You thought you
could push me around, enslave me, cast me out, maybe even kill me."
"No," Stevens begged, "that's not true-"
"Liar!" Atgull venemously sneered. "Things have changed now though.
When you knew me before, I had nothing and I believed in nothing and I
fought for nothing. Now I had everything, and everything to fight for." He
paused. "Your fate is decided," he decreed.
"Please, spare us," Stevens pleaded.
A cruel smile passed across Atgull lips. "You are not to die," he
explained. "In fact I hope and expect you to live a long time." He paused
again. "You will be provided with the basic essentials for survival. You
will construct a meagre shack from rubbish you are provided with and you
will eke out a subsistence living for the rest of your lives." He paused
again. "I will not forget you though. I will visit often to see your
suffering. Yes, you will rue your plan of conquest for the rest of your
life."
"No," Stevens sobbed, "just let us go on our way."
"This is the law of the Utundans," Atgull announced loudly. "Since I
moved here, I have studied the laws, customs and history and this is how
we treated the last Utundi who got ideas above his station!" He clicked
his fingers. "Take them to their new home," he ordered his guards.
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FULL MOON S.F. - THE LAST UTUNDI (H.B.B. McGhee)
THE LAST UTUNDI
H.B.B. McGhee
Atgull would be the first to admit he was not a brave man, in fact he'd
admit to often being a coward; but that wasn't why he had not joined the
villagers in their final 'do or die' battle with the Imperial forces.
Atgull was an outcast. It all went back to something his father had
done many years ago; something that neither his parents nor anyone else
would ever discuss. His father had died many seasons ago, but Atgull had
never been forgiven for his father's actions and so he had had to live in
this shanty shack outside of the village, scraping by on a subsistence
existence. It really didn't matter to him whether it was the villagers or
the Imperium that were his rulers; to him, each was as bad as the other.
So he hid in the undergrowth as the villagers marched past. They were
all there, even women with young babies; to them nothing short of total
commitment was necessary. They cursed, spat and swore at Atgull's house as
they passed. Then the stones smashed the windows and rattled off the
rickety walls. Finally, a burning stake was hurled. The tinderbox dry home
was quickly engulfed in flames that left nothing but a pile of
smouldering, charred timbers.
When they were finally out of sight, Atgull crept out of his hiding
place. He ruefully regarded the destruction of his home - they had had no
right to do that. It was a criminal act. He decided to gain retribution
while they were gone; not in a destructive manner, but in a positive way
for himself.
He made his way cautiously around the outskirts of the village until he
was satisfied that it was indeed deserted, then he entered the encampment.
He picked up a handcart and began to move from dwelling to dwelling. Where
the door was not secured, he entered and removed foodstuffs, blankets and
clothing. 'Let those who took away, give back,' he bitterly thought to
himself.
He entered one of the bigger houses, perched on top of the hill; it was
obvious this belonged to one of the village elders. Atgull nodded to
himself, he would take most from here.
As he strode through the door, he found himself confronted by a
stranger! "Are you from the Imperium," he gasped, hoping the being
understood his dialect of the Galactic tongue. "I am not part of the local
army. I pose no threat to you. I owe no allegiance to these people. I have
no weapons. I just ask to live my life in peace."
The stranger regarded him quietly for a moment. "You've got me wrong,
boy. I'm not directly involved in this battle. I'm just an observer; a
recorder." He paused again, then held out his hand in friendship. "Sammy
'Scoop' Stevens, currently on contract to Galactic News." He pointed at
machines he had assembled. "I'm onto an exclusive here, boy, believe me.
I've been following the Imperial Fleet in this quadrant for over a year
now. Soon, maybe here on this planet, we'll witness the beginning of their
end. Their chain of command and supply routes are in tatters. They no
longer have any serious weapons; it's down to hand to hand combat now. The
once invincible Imperium are on their knees out here; defeat is imminent."
"You're a newsman?" Atgull queried.
"Yep," Stevens replied, "and the only one out here. When their defeat
comes, my recording of it will make me a rich man indeed!" He looked
slightly anxious. "Say, if this is your place, I'm sorry, boy, but it was
the highest point around here, better reception for my scanners."
Atgull shook his head. "No problems on that count," he responded
evasively.
Stevens turned to the scanners. Several ships were coming down to land
near the band of villagers. "Looks like the shows about to get on the
road," he muttered, making final adjustments to some of his controls.
Atgull watched impassively as the soldiers poured out of the ships and
ferocious hand to hand fighting began. What Stevens had said was true, the
soldiers of the Imperium had no sophisticated weapons at their command.
Like the villagers, they fought with clubs and spears.
The commitment of the villagers was absolute, even small children waded
into the melee; women with babies had them strapped to their backs as they
fought beside their menfolk. Casualties were high on both sides, but it
was clear the locals had gained the upper hand. Oblivious to their own
massive losses, they pressed forward again. The few remaining Imperium
warriors were almost back to their own ships.
"They don't know how to accept defeat," Stevens muttered. "It's clear
they've lost this battle. If it was me, I'd get back in those ships and
get the hell out of it while I was still alive."
The soldiers had been driven back into one of the invader's ships and
the remaining villagers were attacking the hull, trying to force their way
inside. Suddenly the whole area was engulfed in a massive ball of flame
and a series of explosions ensued, so powerful that they even shook the
ground where Atgull and Stevens stood.
The newsman shook his head. "Damn fools, they blew up their own ships
in order to take the locals with them. I guess they thought a draw was
better than defeat." His mood brightened. "What the hell, I've got it
here! The end of the Imperium's colonial adventure. I've got to get this
stuff to the nearest planet with a relay station that links to back home.
Then I'll have it made for the rest of my life!" He began to collect up
his stuff. "Good to meet you, boy. Be lucky."
And then he was gone.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
A few hours later, Atgull had summoned enough courage to visit the area
of the battle. It proved impossible to reach the actual site, for the
devastation was absolute, there were clearly no survivors, nor even the
need to bury the dead. Everything had been destroyed, ripped apart and
burnt beyond recognition.
He realised that he was alone. As far as he knew, if there were other
inhabitants on this continent, they had never made contact with the
villagers.
It slowly dawned on him that everything in the village was now his to
claim. It was with a grim, but quiet satisfaction that he returned to the
village, electing to make the large house on the hill his new home. Having
taken up residence, he then systematically worked his way through the rest
of the village, now not just taking foodstuffs and clothing, but stripping
every house of any of items of value.
The next day he set about knocking down the fences between the small
paddocks, creating one huge field where he corralled the various herds of
animals the villagers had owned.
That evening he surveyed his new estate. He smiled for the first time
in many years. He was a rich man!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Atgull worked relentlessly over the rest of that season and when it
drew to its close, he was ready.
The traders arrived on time, as they did at the end of each cycle. They
were not concerned why Atgull was there instead of the village elders;
they were businessmen and traders, and Atgull had much to trade. They were
honest folk, who drove a hard bargain and they did not physically present
a danger to Atgull, though they could have overpowered him and taken
everything had they so wished, but Atgull knew they were men of honour,
who had a reputation to maintain.
Atgull traded the livestock and material wealth he had collected for
seeds to plant, weapons to protect him, slaves from a nearby planet to
work for him, materials to construct his grand palace and soldiers to
protect him.
He flourished. His wealth grew; now he had a great empire of his own.
Now he was proud to be a Utundan, for he was the only one. He had used the
female slaves he'd purchased to satisfy his physical needs, but now he
sought a mate to ensure his line would continue.
He found a woman of great beauty and breeding, whose families wealth
almost matched his own. Their two races were of similar origin. A deal was
struck. King Atgull of Utundi would soon have a Queen. Her ship was due
this very day.
There; it approached, now visible in the sky.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Stevens had become a bitter man. All the effort he'd put into his
exclusive story had been in vain. The authorities on the home world had
suppressed it; they dared not reveal their own fallibility, even in some
remote corner of the Galaxy. Far from being rich and famous, they
considered him dangerous, he knew too much, had seen too much. He was
lucky to have escaped with his life.
He met up with a disillusioned space fleet officer from the Imperium
and hi-jacked one of the Fleet's ships and they had headed off into deep
space.
"Don't worry," Stevens assured his companion, "I tell you this place is
perfect, nice climate, fertile, well out of the way and inhabited by some
kid who wouldn't say boo to a goose. It's ours for the taking, I assure
you. We'll soon be rich men..."
Stevens' companion grunted and turned the ship into a landing orbit,
heading for the same co-ordinates where the ex-newsman had landed
previously.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
King Atgull looked down with imperious contempt at the two men who
stood before him.
"Say, boy," Stevens protested nervously, "don't you remember me?"
"You will address me as 'Royal Lord'," Atgull announced. He clicked his
fingers and his soldiers forced the two men to kneel. "You were lucky you
were not blasted from the sky as you approached," Atgull continued, "for
that is how we deal with unannounced strangers. It was only the fact that
I was expecting someone, that you managed to land unscathed."
"We come in peace," Stevens wailed. "I just wanted to see how you were
getting on..."
"Fool," Atgull cursed arrogantly, "you were laden with weapons. You
thought this an easy target for you to loot and pillage. You thought you
could push me around, enslave me, cast me out, maybe even kill me."
"No," Stevens begged, "that's not true-"
"Liar!" Atgull venemously sneered. "Things have changed now though.
When you knew me before, I had nothing and I believed in nothing and I
fought for nothing. Now I had everything, and everything to fight for." He
paused. "Your fate is decided," he decreed.
"Please, spare us," Stevens pleaded.
A cruel smile passed across Atgull lips. "You are not to die," he
explained. "In fact I hope and expect you to live a long time." He paused
again. "You will be provided with the basic essentials for survival. You
will construct a meagre shack from rubbish you are provided with and you
will eke out a subsistence living for the rest of your lives." He paused
again. "I will not forget you though. I will visit often to see your
suffering. Yes, you will rue your plan of conquest for the rest of your
life."
"No," Stevens sobbed, "just let us go on our way."
"This is the law of the Utundans," Atgull announced loudly. "Since I
moved here, I have studied the laws, customs and history and this is how
we treated the last Utundi who got ideas above his station!" He clicked
his fingers. "Take them to their new home," he ordered his guards.
GO TO THE
UPDATE INFORMATION PAGE
GO TO THE
STORY INDEX
|
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