Patter was busy. “I said hold my calls!” he barked as his intercom buzzed.

  His hands flew across his screens as he worked with all the media, contacts and influencers getting ready for the upcoming grand opening of Dirt for general hunting. A lot had already been invested in the initial purchase, “rewards and incentives”, staff hiring and training, the costly but essential invitation hunts and more. That was a lot of credits spent but the big pay day was soon. He just needed the final report from Harrick and then he would start the show.

  Patter’s assistant Trotter, a smaller, weaselly looking creature of the same race as Patter sat by, listening to all that happened around Patter. It was Trotter’s job to deal with the media and influencers to ensure only good news was shown. His official title was “Media Liaison” but his more accurate role was “Fixer”.

  The intercom buzzed again. Patter stared at it, daring it to buzz again.

  It buzzed again.

  Halting his first response he paused and pressed the button calmly.

  “Yes?…” he asked sweetly.

  “Harrick is here to see you,” Honey quickly said and cut the connection before Patter could reply.

  The door opened and Harrick walked in and waited at Patter’s desk.

  “Ah,” said Patter, “I was looking forward to your visit. The reports on Dirt look promising but I wanted your opinion. Are we ready to open to the public?”

  Harrick had spent the time since his last terrifying hunt held in Dirt’s “empty” ice covered South Pole and was pondering the best way to present his findings to HTI. If he was allowed to be completely honest he would stop any hunts on Dirt. In his carefully considered opinion Dirtlings were absolutely crazy. The six initial hunts had resulted in many casualties amongst his growing security teams and six dead assistants. Fortunately none of the Very Important People were killed or even worse, obviously damaged.

  “What would you like to know?” Harrick ventured, looking over at Trotter who was listening intently.

  “Can I open the planet to the public?” Patter quickly answered.

  “Ah,” said Harrick, considering the best way to phrase the situation. “How public and how general?”

  “What?” asked Patter, “What does that mean?”

  “The planet has a lot of dangers we did not foresee,” started Harrick, when Patter interrupted.

  “Yes! Yes!” Patter said, “There are always unforeseen things. We can make then continue to be unseen.”

  Trotter nodded knowingly. The media was tightly controlled. All the major information networks were ultimately owned by only a couple of very influential and wealthy families resulting in very consistent presentations of whatever the current view was considered of interest to those families. HTI also had those families as part of their controlling interests, so any bad news was quickly re-presented in the best light possible. That was Trotter’s job.

  “Hmmm,” continued Harrick, “As you know we did six exclusive hunts and all the hunters came back happy with their experience.”

  “Yes, yes. It was excellent. They all told everyone how exciting the hunts were and the hit song ‘We only came for a little hunt’ is back on the charts.”

  Trotter smiled and gave a nod, acknowledging his fine work, if he did say so himself.

  “Did you speak to any of those hunters?” Harrick asked.

  “Only briefly. They all told me they were very happy and would recommend the planet to others. Why?” Patter replied.

  “I spoke with some of their family who were concerned at some of the injuries. All have been repaired and some scars have just increased the prestige of the owners.” Harrick said.

  “Of course it did,” Patter said, “I’m very glad you permitted a few light injuries so that no-one could say it was a catch. It IS a hunt you know.”

  “That is true, but we had many casualties in ensuring that was the case. It didn’t matter where we landed, from a busy place to the most remote inhospitable tundra and the Dirtlings were there, caught unawares, but still ready to provide challenges to us. And by ‘Dirtlings’ I don’t just mean the bipeds that are on the videos, but so much of the other plants and animals seem to react unfavourably to our presence.”

  “So?” asked Patter, “We have bigger guns and superior intelligence. The tests proved that. It is an NC world, and we all know that NC means No-one Cares.”

  Patter laughed at HTI’s inside joke around the alternate meaning of NC - Non Compatible.

  Before Harrick could continue, Patter interrupted, holding up his hand, “We have invested way too much in the stupid planet already and our sponsors want this to continue.”

  Patter looked over to Trotter, “T, Harrick sounds like he is saying this planet is too dangerous for the general public. What is our response?”

  Trotter looked up with a wicked smile, “Do we care? The general public is just another source of income. If any get hurt, we can cover that up with a cascading series of defences that are tried and true. Denial, obfuscation, legal threats, compensation with non disclosure agreements and more.”

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  When Trotter said “And more” Harrick thought it sounded like more unsavoury options were also on the table.

  Patter looked at Harrick, “Well, is anything catastrophic stopping us from opening up the planet …” Patter paused as he looked down at his paperwork, “Dirt to the public?”

  Harrick paused as he looked at Patter and Trotter peering intently at him, expecting the “right” answer.

  “No, there is nothing catastrophic stopping you from opening up the planet for general hunting,” said Harrick, hating himself for what was going to happen to those poor saps craving to go on their “little hunt”.

  Patter clapped his hands with enthusiasm, “Great! That’s it then. Trotter! Send out the word. We have everything ready. First hunts will be via the HTI Lottery. Only one credit a ticket. Prize includes the hunting permit and the best equipment from our official suppliers! Let’s be generous, make the first four winners get a permit. Yes!”

  Trotter jotted down the instructions on his tablet. One credit a ticket sounded like a great deal, considering the normal entry fee of one thousand credits, plus equipment meant the prize was worth about five thousand credits. Of course, what the public didn’t realise was the lottery would sell up to a million tickets, and after taking off the prize cost, promotion, printing and taxes, that still left over half the proceeds with HTI. And they would do it all again each month!

  “Arrange some interviews with our exclusive hunters. After all that is why they received the invites and they know publicity is part of the deal. Good for them and good for us don’t you know? And…” Patter continued. Noticing Harrick still standing there, Patter nodded at him with a brief wave of his hand, “Thank you Harrick. We’ll take it from here. Good work!”

  Harrick gave a formal nod , turned and left Patter’s office.

  As he exited, Honey looked at him and smiled consolingly, “You okay Hun?”

  Harrick grimaced and replied, “He thanked me for my good work.”

  He then left the office and went for a stiff drink, remembering his fallen and injured comrades who were the cost of that “Good Work”.

  Honey sighed, “I know how he feels,” and continued with her work.

  ****

  X Bear had been very busy, getting a feel for what Dirt - scratch that - Earth and its people were like. Stupid translator. After he had visited New Zealand after the first hunt, he had popped over to Australia, Afghanistan, Nepal, Russia and even the South Pole. Who know about the secret Dirtling - scratch that - Human base there?

  So that was the standard six prestige hunts complete. Looking at the carnage amongst the security forces, X Bear knew there should be a re-evaluation of the planet, but the corruption of the system meant the real hunts would start within the next twelve months. HTI needed the time to set everything up, build up excitement and prepare for the much busier schedule of the general public coming to hunt.

  Gathering up all his records, X Bear prepared to leave and report back to HQ. He informed the Black family he was going on a vacation to visit his Aunt in distant Bearu and he made his way back to his ship at the top of the train station.

  He stopped in surprise as he saw his ship. Actually he didn’t see his ship. He saw a white dome covering his ship. It was a perfect half sphere. And sitting atop the white dome were many more pigeons than he saw when he left his ship nice and safe.

  “What? How?” he asked the pigeons who somehow looked very smug as they coo’d back at him.

  X Bear turned off the defence shield and the dome remained. He approached and tapped the dome. It was a build up of pigeon droppings. But it was in a perfect half sphere. He unpacked his laser pistol and set it to one energy unit strength. He fired carefully at the side and cut a neat one centimetre hole in the covering. Using his light and then his finger he examined the hole. The pigeon droppings were about five centimetres thick and hardened. (Or two inches as some of the humans measured things - he could never understand the differing measures used by the same people in the same country).

  Peering in the hole he could see his ship perfectly safe, untouched by the cover.

  X Bear stepped back and looked at the pigeons carefully. “Did you deliberately defecate on the shield, letting it slide down the edges, and keep doing it so much that it built up to cover the lot? Seriously?”

  The pigeon at the top of the dome, who looked like the same one that slid off when he left the new settings. “Did you take my departing comments as a challenge? Well I’ll be,” sighed X Bear.

  X Bear muttered to himself as he applied his investigative skills to the situation, “They must have hovered above to do their business. That pigeon must have convinced not just his local flock but ones further away to all contribute their efforts to the cause.” He looked around and noticed the rest of the roof was remarkably clear of droppings.

  He banged on the covering and realised his punch strength alone would not work to break the dome. “OK then,” he said and took out his light sword. Setting it also to one energy unit, he used it as a cutting torch and made a door big enough for him to crawl through.

  Once inside, he saw the pigeon right behind him watching what he would do.

  “What’s your name?” he asked the pigeon.

  “Coo!” the pigeon answered.

  “Hang on,” X Bear said as he pulled out his communicator/translator, and asked again.

  “Kurt,” said the pigeon.

  “Huh,” replied X Bear, “Well, thanks Kurt for such fine guarding of my ship. It showed great thought and organising ability to create a pigeon dropping igloo around my ship. I’m off for a while. I may see you, but it may be a long time.”

  Kurt the pigeon, dropped his head in embarrassment for the praise, but bobbed up his head and spoke impulsively, “Can I come?”

  “What? Come with me? I’ll be going a long way. What about your family?” X Bear asked, curious at this strange bird.

  Kurt said, “They’ve all moved on. But I want to see new places. And your nest flies faster than even the fastest pigeon! I want to be part of that!”

  X Bear’s first instinct was to deny Kurt’s request, but then considering how much turmoil the world was in for as a hunter planet, he thought, “Why not?”

  “OK, Kurt. You can come with me, “ he said, but then quickly considering this very pigeon he was offering to accompany him, “But you have to control where and when you do your business!”

  “Pfff,” scoffed Kurt, “Look at this dome. If that’s not control I don’t know what is. Let’s go.”

  X Bear shrugged, “Kurt, tell your friends to move off the dome and the roof. We’re going to blast our way out.”

  Kurt rushed out and coo’d to all the other pigeons who flew a short distance away to watch.

  X Bear hopped into his ship and beckoned Kurt to join him. Kurt was small enough that he would make little impact on the ship’s environmental systems.

  As X Bear made the ship ready to depart he noticed that his translator beacon was on. “Oh!” he said, pointing straight up “This has been on since I left and I guess you were sitting right above it all this time?”

  “Yeah. That’s the top spot for the boss pigeon.” Kurt answered with pride.

  “You know. I keep learning new things about our technology. I don’t think it is shielded very well.”

  And with that he strapped himself and Kurt in, fired the front lasers to blow apart the pigeon dropping “igloo” and flew off fast for HQ.

  The nearby pigeons all flew into the air in huge flock of wings and the people on the streets below heard a great thunder and white flakes started falling all around and on them.

  “Snow!” cried the first onlookers excitedly, until some of the children opened their mouths for the snowflakes.

  “Aargh,” they cried, spitting out what they had tasted, “That’s not snow!”