Harrick heard the sound of an explosion shortly after he gave his orders to the scout team.
“Everybody! Let’s move,” Harrick said, motioning to his hunting party and indicating for his assistant to move ahead, “We will be moving that way around these rocks and looking for more targets.”
The hunting party started moving with only a few grumbles as the assistant disappeared around the rocks ahead of them. Suddenly a cacophony of small explosions echoed amongst the rocks and the sound of a laser bolt followed immediately afterwards. Before Harrick could issue instructions everyone rushed forward around the rocks and saw the assistant moving quickly towards the edge of the rocks higher up ahead.
“What happened?” asked Tunk, brandishing all three of his pistols hopefully, looking for targets. Harrick rushed forward, covering his assistant by shadowing him on his right flank and as his assistant leaped over the rock’s edge, Harrick jumped after him moments later.
The assistant was standing over a dead Dirtling that was lying face down and holding a rifle in an outstretched hand. The assistant scanned the surrounding area while quickly talking to Harrick, “As I came around the rocks I was fired at by two Dirtlings on this crest. I immediately returned fire. The shooting stopped and I charged ahead. The other one must be around here.”
“Stay here and defend this position. I will be back shortly,” said Harrick as he quickly moved back over the crest to the waiting hunting party.
“Well?” asked Kanessa, holding her parasol in one hand and a pistol casually in the other, “Some action finally?”
“We were ambushed by some primitive Dirtlings and my assistant has killed one. Another is nearby so we have the opportunity for a hunt. Before we go, let me do some investigating here to determine what type of weapon the Dirtling fired,” Harrick explained.
“Yeah!” shouted Tunk and rushed off to the crest with Jedd rolling eagerly behind him.
Kanessa and Slythe just stood where they were with Harrick watching the two younger hunters rush off.
“I suspect that is not recommended?” suggested Slythe.
“No,” said Harrick slowly, “My assistant will take care of them when they meet up with him over the crest.”
“Hopefully, he doesn’t shoot them,” Harrick thought with a slight concern, yet considering their blundering and not so quiet approach he realised the assistant would know who was coming.
Harrick looked around the area where the assistant said he had been fired upon and murmured to himself in concentration. He beckoned to his remaining hunters and went up towards the crest, whistling on approach. After hearing a whistle in reply he went over the crest to see the assistant scanning the edge of his position with Tunk and Jedd sitting sadly a short distance away.
“He yelled at us,” said Tunk, pointing at the assistant accusingly, “And told us to stop talking and sit here.”
“Good,” said Harrick approvingly, looking hard at the two hunters, “You disobeyed my instructions and raced off into danger. Did you know that you may have been shot as soon as you crossed this crest by my assistant?” Harrick looked at his assistant whose body language suggested that shooting them was his preferred option.
Tunk and Jedd looked at the assistant and the crest and back to Harrick.
“Sorry,” said Jedd, realising just how close he had come to being killed. Tunk just sulked and scowled at both Harrick and the assistant.
Harrick reached over and picked up the Dirtling’s rifle and examined some of the cartridges. He whispered to his assistant, “These are not real projectiles. They’re just a small explosive charge with no pellet.”
“Huh,” grunted the assistant, continuing his scan of the area, “I thought they were just bad shots.”
“Let’s use this,” said Harrick quietly to the assistant then stood and announced to the group, “Let’s go on a little hunt.”
“There is a Dirtling just like this one,” he said, tapping the dead gunman with his foot, “And he has run. He can’t go far, certainly not from the six of us advanced members of the Federation.”
The hunters smiled in anticipation of finally hunting something with a bit more challenge.
“He is armed and can cause damage. So stick with us and we should all be fine,” instructed Harrick as he organised the party, leaving the assistant out front.
“Tunk,” Harrick said to the surly youth, “You go up front with the assistant and help him. This is a good chance for you. The rest of you will be with me following closely. Keep a careful eye on your surroundings.”
Tunk’s surliness vanished quickly to be replaced with his more typical bravado as he quickly brandished all three pistols and said to the assistant, “Let’s go!”
****
Ahmed was shocked and tired and covered in dirt and broken twigs after his rapid flight from the gun fight. He and his friend were part of the re-enactment and were waiting in the hills for the battle. The plan was for the two of them to fire at the train and then fall back and have a last stand, with suitable heroics and acting. The day had been hot and the two young men were bored when they had heard sounds from behind them.
“Has the plan changed?” asked his friend.
Ahmed shrugged his shoulders and moved across their hiding place to the other crest.
“I can’t see anything,” Ahmed said looking over his sights, “But we had better be ready anyway.”
The sounds came closer and the two lined up their rifles filled with blanks at the rocks around which the sounds were approaching. Then a giant rat thing came around and they both fired their guns causing lots of authentic sounding explosions, but the rat thing fired back with something like a laser and his friend was lying dead beside him.
Ahmed panicked and ran quickly away from their position, gathering scrapes and bruises on the way. Resting in the shade under a rocky outcropping he tried to calm his breathing.
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“Monsters … with bloody laser guns … Zoran dead,” he muttered, expelling the cartridge containing blanks and putting in a ten bullet cartridge filled with some real bullets. There was a planned shooting competition after the re-enactment and he had his cartridges filled with real bullets in his small bag and loose bullets in one of his bandoliers. The other bandolier was filled with blanks. This World War One vintage Short Magazine Lee Enfield No 1 Mark III rifle was fully operational and he had fired with it many times. The first few times he had used the rifle his shoulder had been bruised for many days afterward, but now he was more experienced in firing the rifle and his shoulder had become much tougher.
Listening carefully he heard voices higher up the pile of rocks murmuring in discussion.
“So, there are more of them,” he said to himself and looked around for a better position. He and Zoran had a good look around earlier as part of their re-enactment and it looked as though the outcrop they had chosen for their final redoubt would still work. Pulling his slouch hat tight onto his head, Ahmed crept quietly and quickly up the side of the rocks and nestled into the outcropping. The top was exposed to the sun but Ahmed was dressed accordingly and his family had lived in the Broken Hill area for generations, initially taking care of the camels and eventually getting involved in many mining and mercantile endeavours. Although their ancestors who first came to the area were Coptic Christians, over the years they became part of the local Catholic Church.
Ahmed fingered his rosary beads and interspersed a few prayers to Saint Michael the Archangel as he carefully watched the approaches below along the barrel of his rifle, waiting for those creatures to reappear.
****
Father Pacioli administered to all those who were injured and needed assistance. Luckily no-one had died from the destruction of the steam engine but there were several broken bones and many cuts and abrasions. The most serious injury was the boy who fell from the side of the carriage, suffering a badly broken leg. Ambulances and emergency vehicles were due to arrive in a few hours as the nearest centre was in Broken Hill itself.
The re-enactors were gathered together when Father Pacioli approached them.
Barry looked up as Father approached and asked, “What the hell happened, Father? We were all caught in the smoke and explosion and concentrating in other directions. John reckons you were talking about aliens. What’s the go?”
Father Pacioli considered his reply. He was an assistant priest in the Broken Hill parish and shared a common interest in the unusual side of life with the UFO enthusiast John Simmons and his family. Just yesterday he had been enjoying a dinner with John when discussion turned to the events that had recently occurred in New Zealand. Nothing had been on the news or typical channels, but the alternate sites John and Father Pacioli visited were full of talk about aliens and fighting. John’s information from his brother and the video of the bodies convinced Father that this was something real and his thoughts had been full of what it all meant.
“Aliens. Wow. Other intelligent life,” he had said after he had seen the video multiple times.
“Do you know what this means?” he asked John and Audrey.
They shook their heads and Father answered with a grin, “New mission territory.”
“What?” asked John, surprised at the unexpected answer. He had converted after marrying Audrey and had a fairly cursory grasp of church history and theology.
“Yep,” said Father with an amazed smile, “Mission territory. We have a whole new universe to evangelise.”
“You have got to be kidding,” said John, leaning back and sipping his beer, “Jesus was human and he died on Earth. That can’t have any relevance to non Earth creatures.”
“My gut feeling is that God created everything and we were sent to evangelise everyone. If the aliens are rational and intelligent they probably have souls and so we have work to do,” Father reasoned, “But I will get my facts together. Thanks for dinner Audrey, beautiful as always.”
Audrey smiled in appreciation of the compliment and said, “It can’t be worse than what Father Greg cooks at the presbytery.”
“True,” smiled Father Pacioli as he stood up and went to the door, “But I never said that.”
Father had spent much of his spare time since then researching and was still unsure of the full impact of aliens but answered Barry carefully, “Barry, a few weeks ago aliens like these attacked a remote cattle station in New Zealand and had a battle with some soldiers. They disappeared after a short while and videos and news has been spreading on the Internet since then.”
Barry looked doubtful and Father pointed at the remains of the sizzling steam engine, “That wasn’t an accident! John and I saw the laser bolt that blew up the train. Did you see Jack’s body?”
Barry nodded with a sombre expression and Father continued, “I saw the rat-like aliens running towards those hills after I knocked down John, and they were like the aliens in the videos I saw on the Internet from New Zealand. They’re here for some reason and they aren’t here for conversation.”
“Bastards,” said John, “The bastards killed Jack.”
“They did,” agreed Father Pacioli, “The bastards killed Jack.”
Barry looked at Father, questioning his choice of phrase and Father explained, “That phrase was an appropriate term to use in these circumstances. I don’t know the alien’s parentage, but by all accounts, the Australian term ‘Bastards’ seems very appropriate.”
“Too right,” some of the other re-enactors agreed.
“Do you all have real ammunition,” asked Father Pacioli to the re-enactors and everyone nodded. The shooting competition was a popular event and it was a great excuse to practice firing these old weapons.
“Replace the blank cartridges and arm yourselves. We have to go into those hills,” said Father, pointing in the direction the aliens had departed.
“Why?” asked Barry, shocked at going after aliens with laser guns, “If they don’t come back, why should we go after them?”
“Ahmed and Zoran,” said Father Pacioli.
“Bugger,” murmured a few of the men as they replaced their cartridges.
“You know we’re not real military don’t you Father?” said Barry, “We’re just re-enactors who enjoy making history come to life.”
“I know a couple of you were in the military once and saw action,” said Father Pacioli, nodding towards a couple of the re-enactors who were in their seventies, “But we need them to stay and guard the train until the emergency services arrive. I don’t think the aliens will be returning, but I want Bill and Fred to keep a lookout. They are still some of our best marksmen despite their age and they can maintain a watch and keep the aliens away. But the rest of us need to do what we can to help Ahmed and Zoran.”
Barry reluctantly nodded and asked, “Are you leading us Father?”
“I think I will,” said Father Pacioli, “I was in the Army Reserves as a trainee officer for a few years before I was called to a change of direction and probably have the most experience here besides Bill and Fred. Those that want to come are welcome, the rest can help Bill and Fred defend this train. Both missions are important but I want to move now before it’s too late.”
Eight of the younger re-enactors decided to join Father Pacioli on their mission of rescue, while the older re-enactors realised they were probably not fit enough to embark on a real combat mission.
Father arranged for the eight men to go into teams of two and spread out, moving quickly to the distant hills with himself following in the centre and slightly behind - unarmed.
****
Harrick’s communicator beeped again, “Yes?” he said as he knelt down behind a rock and scanned the area in front of his hunting party.
“We have moved back into the rocks as you ordered and all was quiet,” said the Scout Leader, “But now we see nine Dirtlings approaching our position.”
“Armed?” asked Harrick.
“Eight seemed to be armed with rifles and in uniform while the ninth is dressed in a black cloak and seems unarmed,” replied the Scout Leader looking through his Digi-view trying to determine the Dirtling’s intentions, “I thought they were after revenge for the explosion, but even they must know they are out-gunned?”
Harrick pondered the question and looked ahead, “They want to rescue the Dirtlings we have encountered. Scare them off and move back again. If they get too persistent, stop them.”
The Scout Leader turned to his team and passed on his orders, “Fire at them and force them down. If they stop we will move back. If they continue, we get to stop them. With prejudice.”
The Scout Leader pointed at the PEC and then at the ground as Kareet lowered the PEC and shouldered his laser rifle with a disappointed sigh.
“You’ll get to fire it again,” consoled the Scout Leader.
His team lined up their laser rifles and opened fire on the approaching Dirtlings. They obediently all fell to the ground and the scouts kept watch. When any of them tried to get up, one or more of the scouts fired and the Dirtling dropped to the ground again. This had turned into a lovely little stalemate.
****
