Free Exodus: Tales of The Empire: Book 2: Beasts of the Frontier. by Doug Dandridge

making so
much noise as to be spotted at a distance.
    “They’re
moving,” called out the Pilot, and Deveroix turned to see the dots from the
satellite image flowing from the gathering point.  Two stuck close together,
while the other two split up.  At that moment the entire satellite image broke
up into static.
    “They’re jamming
the satellite feed somehow,” said the Pilot.
    “And when we get
back, someone will pay for letting that happen,” growled the Chief Enforcer. 
“Change of plans.  We’ll land everyone in the gathering place after we scout it
for traps.  Then we’ll go after them on foot, with the aircars in support.”
    “Are you sure
that’s a good idea, Boss” asked Francois from the back.  “That’s putting us in
their playground.”
    “Yes, dammit,”
screamed Deveroix.  “I’m not going to let them get lost in this damned Swamp.”
    He looked down
once again at the water, where the giant predators were still fighting over the
food that had dropped into their laps.  They reminded him of some of the
predators that lived around the capital, on another continent.  Only much
larger.
    “Will you ride
with me, sir?” asked the Pilot.
    “No.  I’ll be
getting out as well.  We’ll need everyone we have on the ground.”  Especially
since we’re now short one team.
    “We’ll be there
in about seven minutes, sir.”
    And how far
can they get in that time , thought the Chief Enforcer.  He didn’t like the
answer to that question.
    *     *     *
    “Good job, son,”
said Timothy as they walked along the trail.
    Matthew nodded
as he continued to spread more of the stink weed on his skin.  He was
purposefully making a trail that a five year old could follow, leaving
footprints in muddy soil, snapping the branches of shrubs that hung out over
the game trail.  His Uncle, conversely, was  moving like a ghost just off the
trail, leaving no sign of his passage, while he rubbed some of the same weed
all over his skin and clothing.
    The predators of
the Swamp could not stand the scent of the weed, and would do just about
anything to avoid it.  It was something the early Swampers had discovered, and
one of their main tricks in navigating the predator infested land they hunted
without become the prey.  The people after him would have no idea about the
weed, or so they hoped.
    “Ok,” said
Timothy, sliding back off the trail.  “Go to stealth, and keep going.”
    “Don’t you think
the aircars might spot us?” asked Matthew, stepping off the trail himself and
walking carefully as to show no sign of his passage.  He knew the Swamp, though
not as well as his uncles or cousins, who traversed it every day.
    “If they get
close, pull that poncho around you tight, and it should obscure your heat
signature.  It will get a little bit hot, but nothing you shouldn’t be able to
handle for a quarter hour or so.”
    Matthew nodded,
one of his hands touching the special material of the poncho his Uncle had
provided.  They were Ranger issue, capable of blending in with their
surroundings like a chameleon, as well as holding in almost all body heat,
rendering the wearing invisible to infrared sensors for a short period of time.
    “And keep
moving.  If you hear anything like a cry or a scream, it’s just me doing unto
them.  So don’t come back.  Keep moving, and let the Swamp work for you.”
    “Yes, sir,”
agreed Matthew.  Just like playing a game of hide and seek , he thought,
remembering how he and his cousins played in the Swamp when they were younger. 
Only this time, if he were caught, he wouldn’t just become It .
    *     *     *
    “Jubil, you take
your team down that trail,” ordered Deveroix, pointing to the game trail that
disappeared through the brush.  “Jack,” he said, looking at the ex-Marine Recon
Ranger, “you take that one.  “Francois, I’ll go along with your team.  Now,
move out.”
    There were nods
and grunts of acknowledgement, and