02 Quetzals Flock

QUETZAL'S FLOCK
would have been three and a half metres through one axis and three metres through
the other.
It was like a visit to a tomb. They stood in a reverent silence. It was a majestic
sight which represented an equally majestic concept. The parent was destined to die,
so that the next generation could continue the race. The rib arches which remained
reminded Kane of pictures of ancient temples. The flesh had mouldered into the
purple dust to fertilise the forest of Schwarm needed for the Hatchling. In the normal
course of events, the silicate skeleton would await the next coming of the Dwarf and
would be ground down, back into the soil, or washed away when the ocean swept
over the land. The plain would be swept clean for the next life cycle. It was
impressive in its simplicity.
On the next occasions of the Dwarf's visit, it would all end, for it was destined
to end differently. The Dwarf would not simply create the genetic changes necessary
for regeneration. The Dwarf would bring annihilation. The inner man stirred
restlessly. He was seeking a way to preserve his Flock.
Kane thanked Dagh for showing him the wonder. His Body Companion
flushed with pleasure. Kane wondered how a four thousand year old man could still
blush. His gratitude had been sincere, for only two or three times during the thousands
of years of a lifespan, would such an opportunity present itself.
The group moved back on to their original route, stopping on the rise, to catch
the last glimpse of the abandoned corpse. Dagh and Moyta returned to their stations
and Hammadi increased the pace. Kane groaned mentally, it appeared that they were
in for some hard riding to make up for the time lost on the detour. The Picun was an
object of torture which pounded up and down between his legs. He found it incredible
to believe that on Old Earth, they had actually done this sort of thing for pleasure. He
was thankful that he had been born into an age where it was considered to be more
civilised to career around in Skimmers, if on-planet, and Planet Hoppers, if off. At
least, in the normal method of usage, they didn't inflict grievous bodily harm to the
more tender parts of the anatomy.
It was a strange thing, when travelling across a plain as vast as that which
sprawled across Jubal. There was an impression of travelling for hours but coupled
with that was the impression of not really moving. There was nothing to use as a
target. No distant mountain range or any other point of reference. The plain was
simply a succession of ridges, dune after dune of coarse sand and rock, stretching to
the horizon. The Schwarm and the Myrc broke the monotony a little, but after a while,
the drab red tone of everything except the silver Myrc, made Kane want to scream out
for something green, blue or yellow - anything but the perpetual red, even if it did
range from pink to nearly black - it was still red!
Hammadi was still maintaining the faster pace. It was a fair assumption that he
was anxious to get home again. He probably had a mate or two - maybe children. The
thought made Kane kick his heels into the Picun's flank and galvanise it into a faster
gallop. When he had it under control again, he considered the sobering fact that he
might be a grandfather! Hammadi was hardly likely to be celibate, he was after all, his
father's son. A number of women with Hammadi's offspring, threatened to make
Kane the youngest grandfather on record.
It added to his growing apprehension about the meetings which were soon to
take place. Absently, he reached for where the Pentacle usually hung under his Kous
and then he remembered, in view of the outright hatred which existed between Obeid
and Eridos, he had stowed the Pentacle in his bundle of tunics.
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