FANTASTIC PLANET v2.0 (13 page)

'Take fifty
tanks if you wish.'

‘It wouldn't
be much use. The road is narrow and we'd only get tangled up.'

'All right,
take your twenty tanks. I'll follow you with the others and we'll outflank it.'

Terr turned
to the Om who had woken him.

'Find me an
Om who knows the area well.'

'Well... me,
if you want.'

Babies were
bawling all over the place. Terr made for the cave's luminous entrance opening
onto the jungle.

'With such a
racket', he said, 'the bossk can't miss

it
.'

He went out
and cast a quick glance at injured Oms lying down and groaning as their burns
were being dressed.

He jumped on
a tank with his guide and a group of ten soldiers. The engines purred. Other
tanks had gone ahead and could be seen skidding in the mud
half
a stadia away,
like big clumsy stubborn insects.

Terr leant
over the on-board telebox.

'Patrol 4
leader
! We're trying to keep a gap
of half
a stadia between you and us
. Let us know when you catch sight of the
bossk!'

A few
minutes later the patrol leader's voice announced:

'There it
is. It' seen us. It stopped a hundred milistadia from us. We too have stopped.
We're staring at each other straight in the eye. It's roaring.'

A powerful
growl filled the jungle.

'We can hear
it from here', said Terr. 'Keep your distance, a hundred milistadia away so it
can't burn you.'

He leant
towards his guide:

'We're going
to outflank it.
Left or right?'

The guided
hesitated:

'... Left!
There are marshes further away to the right and we'd get stuck.'

As the tanks
veered off in a sea of foliage, Terr spoke again into the telebox:

'We'd better
agree so as to avoid an accident. We're outflanking it to the left, adjust your
shooting accordingly! Where is it injured?'

‘In its
chest and face; the angle was poor and we couldn't shoot anywhere else.'

'Yes, you
can't get it like that... aim for the legs. It's more...'

it's
coming forward!' yelled the patrol leader.

'Don't let
it get nearer than 40 millistadia! Aim your shooting just below the kneecaps.
Try to maim it rather then kill it, it's easier
!...
We're on our way.'

‘It's still
advancing...
Fire!'

A whistling
noise tore through the jungle, then the sound of broken branches.

'Let's get
back towards the road!' ordered Terr.

The tanks
cut a path to the right. A gigantic shadow could be seen gesticulating wildly
behind a curtain of leaves.

‘Is the
visibility good enough?' enquired Terr.

'Yes, on the
fiximage screen!'

'Deploy
now!'

The tanks
stretched out in a semi circle, each seeking a favourable angle. A voice came
from the telebox.

'The patrol
leader got burnt. I'm taking command...
Fire!'

'Below the
left kneecap,' ordered Terr.

'Fire!' the
replacement patrol leader said, his hoarse voice covered by deafening howls.

'Fire!' said
Terr.

The tanks
released lines of purple fire through the branches. The rays converged on the
same point. A massive indistinct shape collapsed in a tremendous din.

'We've got
it! Its legs are crushed, causing it to fall.'

‘Is its head
turned towards you?'

'Yes.'

'Right,
don't go near it and stop firing, you might injure us. We're coming round the
back to finish it off.'

They came
out onto the road around the back of the wounded beast. Twenty purple rays
finished it off, burning the base of its skull. The bossk had one last
convulsive movement before its trembling members softened gradually.

The bossk
was resting on its side. Its muscular flanks' oily skin was shining. It gave
off an unbearable smell. Squadrons of voracious flies were already swooping
down on the gigantic remains.

The first
tanks were invisible behind the great corpse lying across the road. Terr spoke
into the telebox.

'Good work,'
he said. 'How's the patrol leader?'

'He's dead',
replied a voice from the device. The bossk hit him right in the face with a
stream of saliva. The acids have made him unrecognizable.

The Aedile
did not dwell into fruitless sentimentality.

'Are there
any tanks amongst us armed with harpoon cannons?'

'Two', said
the guide pointing at a couple of vehicles at the back.

These
machines were designed to clear the road from obstacles such as tree trunks or
fallen rocks.

Terr ordered
a harpoon to be fired in the monster's withers. The detonation was followed by
a soft impact as the cable whipped the air behind the harpoon vibrating deep
within the dead flesh.

Terr
examined the beast's position and gave the order to fire another projectile
slightly lower. The tanks then went into reverse, skidding on the humus. The
cables tightened to breaking point and the harpoons appeared to almost tear off
chunks of meat from the corpse. But it slowly spun on itself and toppled on its
back.

The tanks
carried on and moved a few millistadia to make the beast circle on a slope.
In vain.
The metal tracks were violently pulling up lumps of
black earth. Thebalance between the traction force and the mountain of fat was
almost perfect; a mere nudge would be enough to overcome the animal's weight.

Leading by
example, Terr leapt onto the ground and gripped the cable with both hands. Several
Oms followed suit, gripping the metal and pulling to support the tanks.

The two
machines' efforts had brought them closer. The groups of haulers became one in
a swarm of tensed muscles. One of the tank's front tracks skimmed the other's
metal side... A phenomenal spark flew out like lightning from the unforeseen
contact. All the Oms were thrown to the ground by the shock.

Everyone was
momentarily startled. A few sparks lit the stunned faces. One of the tanks slid
slightly to the side, away from the other. The phenomenon stopped.

'What was
that?' uttered Terr.

'I think I
know!' Sav's voice said.

Terr turned
around and recognized the naturalist. Seated in a muddy rut, Sav was smiling.

'What are
you doing here?' wondered the Aedile.

'I didn't
want to miss a bossk hunt!'

'Did you
know that bossks...'

'Let off
electricity, no!'

'So?'

Sav stood up
and rubbed his soiled hands on his

gown
.

'In fact we
all generate a little electricity. Or at least our muscles do. A very small
amount
!...
If you were to join together with a thread
a point on the outside of the muscle to a point in its centre you'd obtain a
current!'

'Yes', said
Terr, i know that, but...'

'The first
harpoon plunged right in the middle of the bossk's largest muscle. The other
one struck a little lower. As the tanks touched each other the metal cables
closed the circuit, hence the discharge!'

Terr shook
his head: 'I'd never have guessed...'

'Don't
forget the muscle's huge weight and size!'

'Yes,
well... But what's going on over there?'

Oms were
carefully getting two bodies out of the motionless tanks.

'The drivers
got hit quite badly', a voice said. A circle formed around the injured Oms.
Pale and gasping for breath, they mumbled that they would not be able to drive.
They were carried to the side and were replaced.

'Beware',
said the Aedile.
'Gently this time!
Keep the tanks
away from each other.'

Two hours
later, long columns of migrants were marching past a ridge of black flesh
alongside the road.

After an endless day broken up
by stops in fortified staging posts, the Oms emerged from the jungle. They
advanced along the side of a mountain where blocks of limestone were mounting a
secular guard, erect like sentries high above the valleys. A fresh breeze
caressed the Oms' tired backs.

Hundreds of
stadia away, the river could be seen meandering towards the shimmering sea. But
the horizon was blocked by the Foam Pot's gentle hills.

The ground
flattened little by little and passed a few bald teats before reaching a vast
expanse swept by westerly winds. The interminable column wound for a long time
amidst the hills and parched valleys, cutting a gash in the plateau. The Oms'
obstinate advance caused herds of cervuces to disappear in a few leaps amongst
the canyon's rocks.

Like a
theatre set, lofty peaks were towering high above the end of the world scenery.
The sounds of the tanks were thundering in muffled waves, undulating in sonic
disturbances before getting lost into the distance. The monotonous concerto
lulled the Oms' march.

Suddenly the
air was filled with a more strident music. At first it sounded like a tank. The
sound came from above and all the faces turned towards the clouds.

The
dumbfounded crowd saw a heavy sphere appear, like a huge menacing fist about to
swoop down on the free Oms' destiny.

Coming from
the west, the sphere got dangerously close to the plateau. It appeared to be
running along the grass, bouncing along a natural springboard before gaining
height and spinning round for along time above the migrants.

The initial
surprise subsided and the line scattered. Porters threw off their loads and ran
randomly. Some rolled down into treacherous sinkholes. But running was no use.
To go where?
The great herd seemed to understand and soon
stood still, hardly dispersed, bare and defenceless on the plateau's chalky
ridge.

The sphere
approached again, raking and flying along the disrupted column, throwing the
Oms onto the ground as if they were systematically cut down by a shock wave.

Dazed, they
stood still long after the rocket had vanished after circling high above the
jungle.

The din
subsided and one could hear the Aedile's orders broadcast by the tanks.

'You were
right, Oms, this was a Traag sphere. Have faith in your Aedile and keep
walking. Night will fall soon and we're nearing the city where all is planned
for your protection!'

Everyone
obeyed and the column stretched once again towards its goal. The event loosened
the exhausted Oms' tongues and a hum rose from the crowd.

'A Traag sphere!'

'Why didn't
we shoot it down?'

'Apparently
the Aedile gave the order not to!'

'I don't get
it.'

'But if the
Traags know the exodus was a success, the...'

'Keep quiet,
will you! The Aedile knows what he's doing. And after all we're near the city.
It's hundreds of thousands strong and must be a real fortress!'

'Apparently...'

'A true paradise, of course!'

'Much better than the old port!'

Twilight
gradually set in, drowning the horizon and restricting everyone's sight. Once
night had fallen, the column came up against a barrier of tanks appearing
suddenly from the darkness and everyone understood the gates of the promised
city had been reached.

Many were
disappointed, expecting reassuring walls, lights, banners and towers crowned
with ray launchers. And yet there was nothing.
Nothing but
darkness strewn with isolated lights.
Nothing but flat voices giving
indifferent orders:

'Stop!
Follow your tank to the left. Left I said!'

'Next section, straight on!'

'No, in
lines of three; come on!'

And calls too:

'Softie!'

'Redhead!'

'Come now,
keep moving forward!'

'Follow your
tank!'

'We can't
see a thing!'

'Blondie!'

'Don't look
for your partners, you'll find them in town. Nobody can get lost here... Come
on!'

Someone said
under a guide's nose:

'Funny kind of welcome!
I thought there'd be some
sort of party. Surely the last migrant column deserves a party?'

The guide
pulled his face away from the feverish breath.