John Simmons replaced the handset on the hook of his landline phone and sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile.

  “Audrey!” he called out to his wife who was making her latest batch of her famous herbal cookies.

  “The cookies are almost done!” she called back as she put large flower mittens on her hands and opened the oven releasing a delicious baking smell.

  “They’re biscuits, Audrey,” explained John, “We’ve lived in Australia since we married ten years ago and we call them biscuits here!”

  Audrey smiled as she walked into her husband’s study with a plate piled high with fresh hot cookies, “But I’m from Minnesota and these are my Mom’s recipe, so they’re cookies.”

  John smiled as he took one of the biscuits from the pile, “I’ll let it go just this once,” he said as he had been saying ever since they were married.

  “Who wants cookies?” called out Audrey and a small avalanche of footsteps came towards them as their five young children rushed in. John quickly snatched two more biscuits from the tray before only crumbs were left. Once the children had run back out again to play, John said to Audrey, “I was just on the phone to Brian.”

  Smiling, Audrey raised her eyebrows, “Did he call you an idiot again?”

  John grinned, “Yes, he always does that, but this time it was different.”

  “How?” asked Audrey sitting beside him on the spare chair in front the bank of computer screens that made up John’s study. John had been on the forefront of UFO research and was an expert in sifting the facts from the fables. He had met Audrey during a tour that ran past the famous Area 51 in Nevada and they had hit it off, getting married eighteen months later.

  “This time he told ME about a cow abduction,” John said in wonder.

  “He was probably just having you on again,” Audrey said, “You know what he’s like.”

  “No, not this time,” said John, “One of his cows was abducted while he was milking her. When it was returned a short time later it was able to talk.”

  Audrey opened her mouth to answer then closed it with a snap, totally unable to answer that amazing news.

  “Exactly what I felt,” said John, agreeing with his wife, “That was about a year ago, but last week Brian has seen some real aliens that were down on his farm and shot up some of his cows and a cattle rustler.”

  Audrey just stared at John as he continued, “It looks like they used laser guns and communicators and all that type of stuff. Brian said it was lucky the army was nearby demonstrating their armoured vehicles as they had a stand up battle with the aliens. Soldiers were killed and they even shot two of the aliens.”

  “Were they like in the movies?” asked Audrey, excited as all their years of studying seemed to be coming to fruition, “Small, green, big heads?”

  “Ummm, no,” said John perplexed, “Brian said they the one he examined was like a large humanoid rat. Here’s the video he sent to me.”

  John turned around and showed Audrey the video Brian’s son Peter had taken on his phone when they were examining the dead assistant.

  “Crikey,” said Audrey in an American accent, “Aliens are real. I wonder what they want with Earth?”

  “Brian says they’re not all like this guy,” said John pointing at the screen, “He was talking with some of the soldiers and they said they saw a group of aliens having some sort of picnic and they were all sorts of shapes and sizes.”

  “What happened to them?” asked Audrey, staring closely at the image of the rat alien on the screen.

  “Brian said that just as the soldiers were driving directly at the group and firing their auto cannon the aliens just disappeared. That’s when all the alien bodies disappeared too as well as Brian’s cow that had been most burned by laser weapons,” John said bringing up the picture of the six dead cows and showing the one blackened with multiple laser wounds.

  “Disappeared? Like in Star Trek ‘Beam me up Scotty’ type disappeared?” asked Audrey, amazed.

  “Apparently,” said John chuckling.

  “Audrey, I just called him to joke with him that cow abductions were up and waited for him to call me an idiot when he told me all this,” John said, spreading his arms indicating the picture of the alien and dead cows.

  “So, with the soldiers shooting and dead aliens, didn’t we even try a peaceful approach?” Audrey asked.

  “Honey,” John said placing his hands on his wife’s knees and looking into her beautiful brown eyes, “They just came down and started shooting. The soldiers were only there responding to Brian’s emergency call to the police when he mentioned shooting and explosions.”

  Audrey looked down and frowned, “We wanted to meet people from other planets and be friends. This is not what we imagined.”

  “No,” said John, “This is not what we wanted.”

  ****

  The next four hunters were lounging around in the Hunting Lodge trying out their new equipment, pretending to be brave for their friends and supporters and generally doing what excited people do just before a big event happens.

  “So, have you ever been on a hunt before?” asked Jedd, a large amorphous light blue ball about five feet across with pseudo limbs which popped out as required. Jedd was a senior manager for the transport ship supplies company which specialised in HTI shuttles. It was a specialist operation requiring all the special items hunters might require, especially the lucrative first hunts.

  “Oh, No, Darling,” answered Kanessa dismissively, flicking her forked tongue in and out, “The best hunts are those one is invited to. One just never actually pays for a hunt.” Kanessa, radiant in a bright pink defensive suit of armour offsetting the shimmering blue and black scales of her lizard like body, was the wife of a manufacturer of personal defence equipment and a long time supporter of HTI. Kanessa had been nagging her husband to ‘Go on a little hunt’ for many months and the discovery of Dirt had been the perfect opportunity to make a key supporter happy.

  Tunk stomped his feet making sure his new hunting boots did the job and said, “This is my first hunt too. My father says I need this experience to make me an adult. He says a hunt on a new planet is just what a young lad needs to understand life.” Tunk then raised his strong grey arms and waved his snout which was holding a jewel encrusted laser pistol. He pointed the gun in the air and pointed the gun in each of his hands in opposite directions and looked at Jedd, “What do you think? I can shoot three things at once.”

  “Indeed,” said Slythe, a small mole-like creature, standing to his full height of three feet and cradling a laser rifle that was the same length, “You only have two eyes. How will you shoot three targets?”

  Tunk sighed and re-holstered his guns, “You never know. I might just be that good.”

  “We’ll see,” Slythe said patiently. He was always patient, as the lead auditor for the Imperial Accounting Services. This hunt was his reward for a job well done. He found irregularities and promptly informed HTI management which promptly ironed out those irregularities and then the audits were passed. It was a fine system indeed.

  Harrick walked in and held up his hands for silence and all the special support crew stood to attention and the special guests finally noticed and looked at Harrick.

  Harrick smiled broadly and looked at each of the special hunters, “Welcome to Hunting Tours Incorporated. I see you are all well prepared with our basic training and the best equipment credits can buy. On the planet below us is a whole world you can ‘Go on a little hunt’.”

  His guests smiled as they remembered the song which had made hunting popular again.

  “If you look at this image of the planet Dirt you can see this large island at the top of the planet. The centre of this very large island is mostly desert and the local dominant lifeforms are sparse. This is a ‘Hunt’ not a ‘Catch’ so we have planned to go down to this place here,” Harrick pointed at a spot in the middle of a large land mass in the centre of a huge expanse of ocean displayed on the three dimensional image of the planet, “There will be plenty of targets and opportunities outside of any major towns or cities. Now, please follow us to the shuttle and we will be on our way.”

  This time Harrick had chosen another remote place on the large red island at the top of the planet. There were very few Dirtlings in the area with most of the population living on the coast well away from his planned location.

  ****

  The party of four hunters, Harrick and his new assistant appeared on the surface in the midst of a dry, red landscape surrounded by a sparse collection of bushes and scraggly trees. Tunk immediately brandished his three pistols in what he considered a flamboyant manner and looked all round, slowly moving his large feet until he had scanned three hundred and sixty degrees.

  “There’s nothing here,” he said sadly, re-holstering his pistols, “Where are the targets?”

  “You will observe, young Sir, that we are now on the planet’s surface. The whole idea of a hunt is the hunting. So now we hunt. Please follow me,” Harrick said as he carefully looked all round and started moving towards some distant hills with his assistant taking position at the end of the party.

  “Oh, it’s hot!” said Kanessa, brandishing a bright pink parasol to match her hunting outfit, “Is it supposed to be this hot?”

  “It’s probably something to do with the bright star in the sky,” said Slythe sarcastically, popping up the hood on his armoured jacket and moving along to keep up with Harrick.

  “Hot. Hot. Hot,” said Jedd, rolling up into a solid ball within his outer garments and trundling along with his fellow hunters.

  A short time later Harrick stopped, knelt on one knee and put one hand gathered into a fist in the air signifying the party to stop. Tunk tripped over Harrick’s leg and fell over in a tangle of arms and trunk and the others tumbled over him into an untidy heap. Harrick looked disdainfully at the pile of hunters and looked at his assistant.

  “Look over there,” he said, pointing at a group of trees a short distance away, “I spotted movement. Move over to that small rise and gather more information.”

  The assistant nodded and quickly slunk away to lay down on the rise beside a small shrub. Through his digitally enhanced distance viewer - a ‘Digi-View 2000’ - he saw that the trees surrounded a small body of water. There were a number of local four legged creatures drinking from the water and no sign of others in the area. He slid down and reported back to Harrick.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The group of hunters had gathered themselves into a semblance of dignity in the meantime and waited for instructions, glaring at Tunk for causing such a mess.

  “We will carefully move to that rise and if we do not make too much noise we will not scare away the creatures drinking from the small pool beside those trees up there,” Harrick said, looking intently at his hunters and waited until they had all confirmed they had heard him. Putting a finger to his lips, he slowly led them to the small rise and they all kept as low a profile as they could.

  “Can we shoot them now?” asked Tunk, once more brandishing all three of his pistols.

  “We may be a bit far away to use your pistol,” Harrick said, “Who has a rifle?”

  Slythe showed his laser rifle and Jedd said, “I have a projectile rifle and an automatic rifle.”

  “What about if I used more power?” asked Tunk, disappointed he would not get to fire first.

  “More power would not increase the range, but it would increase the damage it did when it hit,” explained Harrick then turned to Slythe and Jedd, “Both of you can give this a go. Let’s just use the rifles. Remember your training and line up the targets using the sights and fire when I give the word.”

  Slythe aimed his laser rifle carefully, centering the targeting square on to the strange four legged animal with a large hump in the centre of its back. “How strong should I set the laser charge?” he asked Harrick.

  “Two energy units should do the trick considering the size of the animal,” answered Harrick, pleased that someone was asking good questions, “And Jedd, you can set your projectile rifle to fire in three shot bursts.”

  Jedd wrinkled his eyebrows in acknowledgment as two of his pseudo arms steadied the rifle and a third was ready at the trigger. Harrick’s assistant held his thumb up and Harrick quietly said, “Fire.”

  Jedd and Slythe fired and the camel closest to the hunters wailed and fell down with the laser shots hitting him in the neck and projectiles stringing along his hump. The other camel reared and then started galloping away with two other camels that had been lying down and followed the first one running.

  “Charge!” yelled Tunk as he broke cover and ran towards the pool the camels were running from.

  “Let’s go!” commanded Harrick, following the headstrong young creature. Jedd dropped back into a ball holding his gun in the air and rolled behind Tunk with Slythe and Kanessa walking behind beside the assistant.

  Tunk reached the trees first and looked at the creature on the ground while Harrick swept past him and checked the area for surprises. The creature was dead and sprawled across some small scrabbly shrubs that were growing besides the small pool. Harrick saw that the other three creatures were far away and turned back to the hunters gathered around the dead creature.

  “The killing shot was in the neck by laser. This means that Slythe is awarded this trophy,” said Harrick as he attached the trophy tag to the body, “Congratulations.”

  Slythe just nodded in acceptance and awaited the next instructions. Jedd was disappointed but was still thrilled at the action so far.

  “We have some choices at this point,” announced Harrick, “We could follow in the tracks of the escaping creatures in that direction, or,” pointing at some nearby hills with a scattering of rocks, “we could go up there and have a better look around. What are your thoughts?”

  The camels had run a long way and all the hunters could see was slowly rising small dust clouds to indicate their location. The hill looked much closer so the general consensus was the closer option so they all proceeded along.

  Harrick’s communicator beeped and he indicated the group should proceed while he talked with his scout leader. This time he had deployed two scout teams of four scouts at a good distance in front and behind him out of sight of the hunters. The scout leader was stationed on a small rise overlooking a metal transit line that went through the location the hunters were currently traversing.

  “Sir, we have a vehicle approaching along the tracks full of Dirtlings. They will be in your area in about one hour’s time. Should I stop them?” reported the scout leader as he watched the vehicle full of hundreds of Dirtlings slowly coming towards him.

  “From what we have seen, these vehicles are dependant on a solid metal line to continue. Just cut the line and that should stop the vehicle,” Harrick instructed.

  The scout leader signalled to one of his scouts further up the line and a small explosive was attached to the tracks. Once the scout was clear the explosive was triggered and the tracks were split in two with a loud crash and billowing of dust easily seen by the driver of the vehicle. The vehicle stopped about ten feet before the destroyed part of the track and a group of Dirtlings exited the vehicle, walking cautiously to the track.

  “Can I shoot them?” asked the lead scout, covering the dismounted Dirtlings with his automatic weapon.

  “I have the vehicle covered with my PEC, Sir,” added the lead scout’s team-mate hopefully.

  “Hold fire,” instructed the scout leader softly, “Stay put until the vehicle decides to go back or stays. We are here to ensure the special hunters enjoy themselves.”

  Disappointed, the lead scouts kept low and watched the vehicle carefully.

  ****

  “What was that?” yelled Jacko, the engine driver, over the roar of the steam engine as he saw the explosion on the train line up ahead. The train was part of a special memorial trip to commemorate the ‘Battle of Broken Hill’ from 1st January 1915 when two Islamic terrorists decided to shoot innocent civilians going to a picnic in an open topped carriage about two miles out of Broken Hill in the arid mining country in Australia. In 1915, three people were killed on the train and seven injured and others were killed or wounded in the following escape and chase. The organisers of this memorial event had arranged for an old steam train with the same number of carriages and about fifty re-enactors dressed as civilians, World War One ANZAC soldiers and miners.

  “They’re a bit early, aren’t they?” asked Jacko’s assistant, thinking the explosion was part of the planned re-enactment of the attack by Gool Mohamed and Mullah Abdullah on the train of picnic goers.

  “Nah,” said Barry, the man in charge of the re-enactment, “The first part is supposed to be gunfire onto the innocent passengers, not an explosion.”

  “Bugger,” said Father Pacioli, “This will muck up all the timing. You had better stop so we can investigate.” Father Pacioli was a train enthusiast and many of his parishioners were re-enactors, so he had been happy to join in the re-enactment as a priest, dressed in the traditional 1915 garb of long black cassock and black biretta hat. The costume was very authentic and way too hot for a summer’s day in Broken Hill as sweat beaded and trickled down the side of Father’s face and gathered in his trim beard.

  Barry looked at Father Pacioli questioningly who shrugged at the enquiry, “Bugger is a perfectly appropriate exclamation considering the situation,” he said smiling cheekily.

  The engine driver stopped short of the explosion and they hopped down and approached the broken rails where the explosion had been. Barry bent down and examined the gap and said, “Fellas, this is an explosion! Someone deliberately blew up the tracks. Who’d do that?”

  His companions shrugged at the question and Ed added, “With the track broken we can’t complete the day. Do we just go home?”

  Jacko and Barry looked at each other and grinned. Ed saw the grin and asked, “What’s so funny?”

  Jacko laughed and said, “Mate, we have rebuilt this steam engine almost from scrap and Barry’s a re-enactor. Everything we need is on this train and we can fix the rail and keep going.”

  “Let me talk to the guys and we can incorporate this into the day’s activities,” said Barry getting up and jogging back to the train. Jack spit on his hands and said to his assistant, “Come on Phil, let’s get the tools. I reckon we can strip a bit of rail from the rubbish in the last carriage.”

  In a short time some members of the railway historical society had pulled out their welding and other construction tools while others went to the last carriage and stripped out some sections of old railway track that had been holding part of the floor together. Meanwhile the re-enactors got into their roles and came out with replica World War One weapons and set guard on the broken track. The crowd looked on eagerly to be part of the show.

  Father Pacioli in his hot black cassock stepped down from the carriage and joined the soldiers. He was the local police chaplain and often attended many horrific events and comforted both victims and the police as each tried to cope with pain, tragedy and disaster.

  ****

  The hunting party trudged up the shallow slope of the hill until they reached the top amongst limited patches of shade thrown by some larger rocks and boulders.

  Kanessa held her parasol high to keep herself in shade and her other hand held a laser pistol as she searched in the rocks for anything that might be a trophy. She was getting a bit tired of all this walking in the sun. She was wondering how she could spice up the telling of her hunt when movement between some rocks attracted her eye and she fired three laser shots.

  Harrick raced up right behind her and said quickly, “Ma’am, what did you fire at?”

  “Something moved over there in those rocks,” Kanessa pointed at the blackened area her laser shots had hit, “Did I get it?”

  Harrick aimed his rifle at the area and motioned for his assistant to move forward and investigate. The assistant moved gingerly across the rocks and turning around the corner quickly aimed his rifle at whatever was there. Then he stood up, relieved, and walked forward out of sight behind the rocks. A moment later he returned holding a blackened small animal by its long ears.

  “Congratulations,” the assistant said, laying the rabbit on the ground in the shade and applying a blue trophy tag, “Your first trophy.”

  Kanessa smiled with pleasure and pretended it was all no big deal, while Tunk and Jedd looked on in disappointment. Tunk started searching all around their position on the hill and did not discover anything else and returned to the group with a sour expression.

  “There will be opportunities for all,” Harrick reassured him, “There always are.”

  His communicator beeped again and he stepped away from the group for some privacy, “Yes?” he said.

  “Sir,” the scout leader reported, “We destroyed a section of track which stopped the vehicle, but now the Dirtlings are repairing the metal lines and they have armed guards watching over them.”

  “Armed guards?” asked Harrick, surprised.

  “Yes, Sir,” answered the scout leader carefully, “There are eight Dirtlings in military uniform holding rifles, nine others repairing the damage to the metal lines and another unarmed Dirtling in a black cloak circulating between the soldiers and the workers. It looks as if they will repair the track in a short time.”

  “Can you move back towards our position keeping them under observation?” asked Harrick.

  “Not without revealing our position, Sir,” answered the scout leader, “We are behind a small set of bushes on a low mound surrounded by a barren landscape.”

  The scout’s team-mate Kareet pointed at his PEC and the train and mimicked an explosion with his mouth, then used his fingers to indicate rapidly running back. The scout leader grinned and indicated to Kareet to look forward at the enemy and not listen in to his conversation. Kareet looked forward pretending not to listen while moving slightly closer to the team leader’s communicator.

  “Hit the vehicle before they get back in and in the confusion pull back to the low hills behind you,” Harrick commanded, “We’ll start moving further into these hills.”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the team leader and turned to Kareet.

  Kareet looked across hopefully and the scout team leader repeated Kareet’s hand signal with a silent “Boom!”

  “All right!” whispered Kareet as he lined up the engine in his PEC’s sights.

  ****

  “It’s hot out here,” said one of the soldier re-enactors to his comrade standing beside him.

  “I hope they have beer when we get to the finale,” replied his mate.

  “And it better be cold,” said the first soldier, imagining the picnic that had been prepared in the hills near the site of the final shootout with the terrorists over a hundred years earlier.

  His mate grinned in anticipation and then paused, pointing at a small clump of bushes about five hundred yards away, “Something flashed over there, John.”

  John looked where his mate was pointing and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and replied slowly, “Nope. Can’t see anything.”

  “Come on,” his mate said, moving towards the bushes beckoning John to come with him.

  “Where are you two going?” asked Father Pacioli to the two men, “We’re almost done here.”

  John turned and pointing at the bushes said, “Jack reckons he saw something over there and we’re going to have a look. Just standing here in the sun is boring.”

  BOOM!

  An energy bolt zapped from the bushes and hit the stationary train engine creating a four foot wide hole in the middle of the steam engine. Moments later the high pressure steam attempted a too rapid escape through a small hole in the boiler exploding the boiler, what was left of the engine and the cabin, sending parts flying in all directions with a filthy cloud of steam and smoke pouring in all directions. The re-enactors and train enthusiasts were forcefully blown to the ground with a rude efficiency and the rest of the carriages were forced back by the smashed tender pouring coal and water across the tracks and surrounding ground. All the passengers were jolted into their seats or onto the floor with one unlucky teenager thrown onto the ground as he was showing off his fine balancing skill on the carriage hand rails.

  The team leader fired at the approaching soldier and his energy weapon hit him full in the chest, igniting the bandolier of bullets which had been strapped diagonally across his chest from both shoulders, throwing him backwards and to the ground at the feet of John who stood staring at his dead friend. As the team leader lined up his next shot, John was thrown to his feet by a flying tackle from Father Pacioli who had been following the two men and was just outside the burst radius of the exploding steam engine.

  “Oooff!” exhaled John as another laser bolt went just over their heads and ignited some scraggly grass behind them.

  “Stay down!” shouted Father Pacioli, “We’re under fire!”

  “By who?” shouted John, spitting out the dirt that had been forced into his mouth when he hit the ground.

  “Aliens!” yelled Father Pacioli as he pushed John back down and started scrabbling towards the fallen re-enactor a few feet away. He reached him without any further firing and checked the man’s pulse. Dead.

  He looked up and saw two aliens running from the bushes the energy fire had come from and another two from a hiding position further along. It was just like his parishioner John Simmons had told him. First New Zealand and now here. What were these aliens after?

  Father Pacioli considered chasing the aliens but looked back and saw there were people that needed his help. The aliens had gone into the low hills and he would deal with them later. “Duty first,” he said to himself and went towards the chaos surrounding the destroyed engine.

  ****