Stationed on the periphery of Taulau Town, the two humans had spent months shedding water without engaging in anything more strenuous than popping a few predators that had tried to climb from the water below up into the trees. Suddenly faced with a small but unprecedented crisis, they reacted with admirable speed. Erla unlimbered her own gun while Nilsson activated his before speaking into the communicator pickup of his duty suit.
“Central, this is Twenty-three. Corporal Nilsson speaking.” He squinted through the rain at the thoroughly terrified Deyzara and the pursuing Sakuntala. “We have some kind of an incident in progress here. There appear to be—”
Central dispatch interrupted him. The voice at the other end (probably Fasoli, he mused) sounded unusually harried. “Wait your turn, Twenty-three! I’ll put you in line with the others.”
The others? That didn’t sound right. What was coming down here, besides rain? Leaving the line open, he picked up his own rifle and moved to stand alongside Erla.
“Business dispute, you reckon?” he murmured.
She shook her head, having pulled the helmet’s protective visor down over her eyes. “Too many locals involved. You see the rifles?” He nodded. “Where did the Sakis get shock rifles?”
“Don’t know,” her partner responded tersely. “Right now I’m more interested in finding out if they know how to use ’em.”
Upon reaching the sentry’s position, the Deyzara did not race past. Instead, they alternately stumbled and fell to a halt, clustering as tightly as they could behind the two humans. Their always pungent body odor was powerful with perspiration, and their blaze of usually immaculate colorful attire was uncharacteristically torn and dirty. One elderly individual, his breathing trunk pulsing sharply as he strained to suck air, stood as close as possible to Nilsson. It was plain that he and his companions were in the last stages of fear and exhaustion.