Gavin watched the necropsy dispassionately, calmly and smoothly writing down every word the surgeon spoke. His salary barely covered the cost of his writing materials, since that new batch of recording stones had brought the price down to a much more affordable level. That was his competition, magic and cunning. And he was left trying to match it with old fashioned manual labor and patience.
Fortunately, pay was no issue. He’d work for free, or even pay for the privilege to continue assisting. The real reward was information, raw data that meant nothing to every other mind but his. This necropsy was proof that his formulas were correct. The mortality rate of those traveling to Taragay was increasing at a predictable clip.
The surgeon began placing his tools in the oven, signaling that he was finished. This world was free from all the plagues that had ravaged Gavin’s ancestral homeworld, and even if such pathogens existed here, they could not infect both humans and the dead Skritter on the table. So the sterilization procedures were unnecessary, and even wasteful. A brief scrubbing with soap and water would suffice. The surgeon was an old man though, old enough to remember the world left behind, and he still retained habits from that world.
“This one was like the recent ones, only more so. Wasn’t it?”
The surgeon nodded, understanding what Gavin meant. “Further changes to the digestive structures, including the jaw structure. They’re becoming more and more adapted to eating and digesting meat.”
“So they’re evolving. They’re intentionally evolving to be able to eat us.”
The older man grunted. “There is no intent with evolution. It just happens, though rarely this quickly. If they were intelligent, they might be selectively culling themselves to force rapid change, but they’re not. For all that a swarm might seem clever, the members are practically automatons. Once we figure out all the chemical cues they follow, we’ll be able to control them.”
Gavin shrugged off the explanation. It was a moot point after all. It didn’t matter whether the Skritter evolution was directed or not, just that it was happening in a very predictable fashion. If Gavin’s formulas were correct, the town would soon be cut off. This was very bad news indeed, meaning eventual death for them all. Despite their best attempts at returning nutrients to the soil, they would only get two or three crop cycles without fertilizer from Taragay.
Gavin felt a stab of guilt, knowing it was dangerous to keep his data to himself the way he had. If something were to happen to him, it would be too late by the time someone else stumbled across the hidden pattern in the Skritter attacks. It was almost too late already in fact. The pattern was subtle, and there was a good chance he would be dismissed as a paranoid lunatic even now, but he knew he should have at least tried before moving to plan B.
Plan B was to become filthy rich of course, by taking advantage of his knowledge while he was the only one to hold it. Get rich first. Next, hope desperation truly is the mother of invention, and the Skritter threat is solved before his fortune becomes meaningless.
Decades ago, Gavin’s elders had fled a diseased and dying world. The plagues unleashed during the Necromancer Wars had mutated to become more devastating than even the villainous originators had imagined. Dozens of strains of an unstoppable corrupting sickness spread across the land.
Flight was the only option. Portals were opened, and desperate bands sought untouched lands. Most of them found the way barred. For other worlds had heard of the danger, and their own wizards were sent to block any incursion, using lethal force if necessary.
As time ran out and contamination crept ever closer, Gavin’s elders had stumbled upon this world. The atmosphere was breathable and the climate tolerable, but the planet seemed completely devoid of sentient life. In fact, other than the armored Skritters which fed on crystalline deposits pushed up by some novel tectonic process, the planet was lifeless. With none to oppose them, the refugees fled to their new home, permanently closing the portals behind them to prevent the infection from following.
The world was far from ideal, with the Skritters proving so alien as to be indigestible. The dull red light from the giant sun was insufficient for the production of certain vitamins, a problem for all but those with the fairest skin or most bountiful dinner tables. And the slow rotation, so slow that each day lasted a full week and each night lasted almost as long, created a host of psychological difficulties.
The imported plants adapted to survive however, and the refugees determined to overcome these obstacles.
The city of Taragay was established at the arrival site, and began to grow almost immediately. Farmers had brought hundreds of seed varieties and several species of livestock. Most were viable, and selective breeding quickly turned the process of surviving into the act of thriving. With no natural predators or crop diseases, production increased exponentially after the first few years.
Despite lean beginnings, it looked like the survivors of the exodus had a bright future here. Not all of them had been simple farmers. Though a few higher art forms were lost, a large enough population of artisans kept vital skills alive. An expanding, self sufficient culture seemed imminent.
With simple survival now assured, men began to contemplate more abstract problems though. The over-handed tactics of those who had managed to control many aspects of daily life soon manifested as something more than temporary measures, and political discontent began to fracture the city. Those most dissatisfied by the governing of Taragay simply left. Three smaller towns were established, each a minimum of four homeworld days’ travel (the colonists still divided time according to their ancestral world, as certain biological rhythms stuck to old patterns) through twisting and confusing mountain trails that made physical invasion logistically impractical if not impossible. Gavin’s home, Kerast, was one of those three colonies.
It wasn’t long before the fledgling town began to have trouble however. The soil became depleted of vital nutrients and turned barren within a year. Runners dispatched to the two sister towns reported similar issues. Crop rotation failed to help, and even working organic waste back into the soil only gained one or two crop cycles. For some reason, only the primary city of Taragay continued to have any agricultural success.
The three colonies were forced to rely upon Taragay or perish. Fortunately, this did not mean a return to their former ways of life. The rulers of the primary city were finding the colonies to be useful escape valves for malcontents. They agreed to open free trading with each of the wayward towns for only a few minor concessions.
At first, food was imported. But soon, Kerast began importing Taragayan fertilizer instead. Other than this one product, regularly carried back by several businessmen, the town was self sufficient.
All this had been settled before Gavin was even born, and although the town had grown to nearly triple its size in the decades since, very little had changed. Fertilizer was still the most common import, and fields still eventually died without it. The reigning theory was that some vital microorganism was missing, and without it nutrients simply couldn’t make their way back into the food chain. It was hypothesized that a stable population of this unknown organism had passed through the portals and established itself at Taragay, but hadn’t been able to spread beyond. Nothing was known for certain though.
It wasn’t until Gavin was a young boy, already learning the bookkeeping skills that would enable him to one day take over his uncle’s business, that the Skritter’s began to change.
Or perhaps they had begun to evolve even earlier, but the changes had been so slow that they had gone unnoticed. However it happened, the previously reclusive and docile creatures became threats.
An adult Skritter looked like a cross between a crab and a giant armadillo. They were twice as heavy as a man, with an armored shell that could withstand anything but the best steel wielded by the strongest warrior. Their tiny mandibles, hard enough to chew the crystalline deposits that saturated the local mountains, could easily crush bone. Their short legs, ending in spikes that helped them dig into solid rock while climbing, could easily impale the unwary. And though the creatures couldn’t match a human’s top speed, they were tireless and able to cross the roughest terrain.
The first attack happened during the long night, and the creatures had ever since been a danger primarily in darkness. They’d grown increasingly aggressive however, until the rare nocturnal attack was now a given. Night travel was done only in the most dire of emergencies, and even the daylight hours were not entirely safe. Merchants now traveled to Taragay only in large caravans, or with a protective escort of professional soldiers. Even so, there had already been several attacks during this growing season.
And Gavin now knew that things would shortly get even worse. A recent cluster of daytime attacks, written off as flukes by most, fit perfectly into his model. The visible changes to the Skritter anatomy provided an explanation. Each successive Skritter generation was more adapted to a diet of flesh, and less able to digest the crystalline deposits that fed their ancestors. When the juveniles underwent their final molting and emerged as adults, the Skritter population as a whole suddenly became more aggressive.
Gavin had used his models to create graphs of mortality rates for both daytime and nighttime travelers. Both looked like jagged S curves, starting near zero, increasing exponentially, and tapering off near one hundred percent. The graph of nocturnal activity had become curving up sooner, but the diurnal graph was steeper. It was this graph that would catch everyone by surprise.
Gavin’s conclusions, as unbelievable as they sounded, were that in exactly twelve cycles of sleeping and waking, a fully carnivorous generation of Skritters would reach maturity. They would prey tirelessly on any human outside the town walls, instantly isolating Kerast until the researchers unlocked the chemical signals that would control the creatures.
Twelve homeworld days, just barely enough time to make it to Taragay and back. Barely enough time to bring back a load of concentrated fertilizer pellets, pellets that would soon mean an extra harvest, would soon be worth life itself.
The sun was already touching the horizon. Barely a homeworld day before darkness set it, and travel shut down. The odds of a lone traveler making a nighttime journey to Taragay and back again were already under fifty percent. It was a flip of the coin. Heads he would become rich, tails he would become Skritter food.
Gavin wished he’d made up his mind earlier. For months he’d been keeping careful records, steadily plotting entries into his ledgers as though time were of no consequence. Suddenly, as everything came together, time was up. He could have acted earlier, made a relatively safe excursion to Taragay, waited out the dark period, and made another safe trip back.
It was too late pondering what might have been. He’d waited until he was sure, and all alternate paths were forever in the past now. What mattered now was whether he had the courage to use his hard won knowledge, or whether he’d do nothing and most likely die a cowardly death by starvation.
“You can go. I don’t have anything more today.”
The surgeon’s voice broke Gavin out of his contemplation, and ended his indecision. He left the elderly man and headed straight for his uncle’s business, where all his savings had been gathered. In another world perhaps, there was a Gavin who went home instead. But here, he chose the route that would hopefully make him the hero who saved the town. Make that the very rich hero.
Gavin wasn’t going to accept his current odds if he could help it. There were two men who made a living mapping the network of trails and canyons that wound through the mountains. Both were considered experts not only on the terrain, but also on the habits of the Skritters. Each had dared to take multiple excursions during the extended dark period, and had always returned alive.
Some swore by the maps of one, others by the maps of his competitor. Gavin would take no chances. He intended to visit them both.
The first stop went smoothly. Hegren answered all of Gavin’s questions and asked none of his own. The peculiar old man didn’t seem to care why his young visitor wanted to know the routes most likely to avoid wandering Skritters. Gavin’s money was good, so the maps were offered for sale and the accompanying advice added on for free.
The second stop nearly proved the undoing of all Gavin’s plans. Thropper had spent more time alone beyond the city walls, and had spent far more time braving the long night than his competitor. For someone forced to risk a nocturnal journey, his advice could be priceless.
Unfortunately, Thropper was more cunning than his older rival. He wanted to know why Gavin was so desperate to risk a night trip, rather than simply waiting. After all, there was no critical shortage that Thropper knew about, no imminent trade deal so lucrative that time was of the essence. For all he knew, Gavin had killed someone and planned to flee before his crime was discovered. If that were the case, he wouldn’t profit by any of Thropper’s knowledge. No matter how much Gavin offered to pay him, Thropper’s reputation was worth far more.
Eventually, Gavin decided to admit the truth. “The Skritters are evolving. If I wait until the next light cycle, I won’t get through with enough time for the return trip. Not this night, but the next, the Skritter’s are going to cut us off.”
“I’ve seen more of the creatures than anyone alive. I already know they’re evolving. I was saying it years ago, that we should organize a hunt to drive them out of the area before they become dangerous. But they don’t like to leave their burrows during the day. I don’t believe the situation is anywhere near as urgent or dire as you think it is.”
“Maybe not, but it’s my choice. If I leave now, and I’m right, I’ll be the last traveler to make it back from Taragay. I think it’s worth the risk. Are you going to help me?”
Gavin thought Thropper would have made a good card player. The man’s face revealed nothing while he contemplated the situation. Eventually, after a handful of seconds that felt like hours, he shook his head.
“You don’t have any evidence. You might really believe what you say, that the Skritters are about to become orders of magnitude more dangerous. But if so, you’re most likely delusional. Probably haven’t been sleeping. I haven’t seen much of that among your generation, but it still happens. I won’t help send a poor kid to his death.
“The alternative, is you really are about to flee the consequences of some crime. This story about an impending evolutionary leap is the sort of cover you’d make up on the spot.”
So Gavin was forced to open up about his equations, forced to show that all the known Skritter attacks matched the predicted stepped curve as perfectly as natural variance would allow.
It was a desperate move that would likely end in failure. For Gavin didn’t know Thropper well, and had no idea whether the man could follow the math involved. If not, it would seem like more spontaneous rubbish, and would only reinforce the man’s belief that Gavin was lying to him about his true motives. On the other hand, if Thropper could follow along…
It didn’t take a genius to see that the smart move would be cutting Gavin off and leading his own expedition. And if there was anyone who could pull such a thing off safely, it would be Thropper.
To Gavin’s amazement, Thropper had neither reaction. “Ok. I can see how you get your conclusions. And you clearly didn’t make this up on the spot. I know enough to tell these are real data points, which means you already had this graph worked out, at least in your head.
“I don’t think you’re right of course. It could be coincidence at this point. But on the slim chance you’re on to something, the whole town should have been alerted. So this is what I’m going to do. I’ll sell you my maps and my advice, like you were any other customer.
“Then, after giving you a three hour head start, I’ll show everything to the mayor and his advisors. If they dismiss my concerns, it all comes down to you. If they take them seriously, they’ll certainly have me organize a party. In that case, you’re not going to become rich, like you were dreaming of. Yes, it was pretty obvious that was your primary motivation. You will have a lead, and the knowledge that prices will likely be driven up when the rest of us arrive. If you can’t make a decent profit from that knowledge, then I don’t know what your uncle’s been teaching you.”
Two hours later, Gavin was just leaving the town. There were plenty of places where the wall, roughly carved from the natural rock, was unwatched, and a reasonably healthy man could scale it.
If Gavin were right, that would soon change of course. What might have provided some protection against a hypothetical invasion by Taragayan forces, would be of no benefit against the real threat. A starving Skritter, driven to seek the only available food source, would be able to ascend that rough surface without even slowing.
Gavin had spent two hours comparing the two sets of maps, and combining them to form a primary route and several backup paths, before leaving the town. A few minutes of extra planning now could save hours or days later, or maybe even his life.
The advice of the two cartographers had been mostly common sense. Pick ridge walking and avoid canyon trails whenever possible, as the Skritters hated to feel exposed, even to starlight. Stick to short paths with multiple branches and avoid long stretches with no easy trails to turn off by.
A single Skritter could kill a man, but they still feared humans and would hesitate to attack unless they had numbers. If you were caught in a long canyon trail, where they could split apart and surround you, you were as good as dead. If you were in the open, with forked junctions within sprinting distance, you could keep them at bay.
Gavin carried plenty of water, but enough food for only five meals. He’d finish the trip hungry, but not so hungry that weakness would set it, and he’d be able to set a good pace with such a light pack. Even if the mayor understood the threat, and that was a distinct possibility coming from someone as respected as Thropper, Gavin ought to be able to generate a significant lead.
A homeworld day, maybe even two. That’s how long it would take to organize the excursion, and they’d be loaded down, too heavy to match Gavin’s step. Just like Thropper had said, it would be enough of an advantage to at least find the best price differential and come out ahead. He might not end up rich, but he’d still be well rewarded for the risk he was taking.
Thropper’s decision to let him go, but to alert the mayor as well, had caught Gavin by surprise. Just like himself, the older man seemed unwilling to close off any opportunity. When a fork in the road appeared, he found a way to take both halves. That trait, common enough among humanity, reassured Gavin that Kerast would find a way to survive. If not their own scientists, then those of another colony town would solve the Skritter issue. After all, the plagues of the homeworld had been even greater threats, and they’d found a way to survive those.
That reassurance quickly lost is grip as the sun sank below the horizon and the shadows began to lengthen and twist into eerie shapes. True darkness was yet a while away, but the prolonged period of dusk was even worse somehow.
The elders sometimes remarked on the beauty of this scene, hues of orange and red stretching from the setting sun past the apex of the sky, to finally turn pale blue at the far horizon. To Gavin and those of his cohort, this was normal. It was no more beautiful than the shine of reflected light off a Skritter’s foot-spike. No more beautiful, and no less deadly.
Gavin detected movement and shuddered at the sight below. One of the creatures was already shadowing him. It was large, and moved cautiously in the waning light, clearly an older specimen. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t avail itself of human flesh if the mood didn’t strike it. Gavin could only hope that it would stay away from the ridge he now traveled. He hadn’t expected to spot any of the creatures so close to Kerast, and he briefly wondered if he should turn back.
The creature angled away, clearly not interested in the human far above, and Gavin felt a measure of relief. He was still bothered that he’d spotted a Skritter so soon, but at least it had been one of the larger and more reclusive ones. He finally began to understand what the elders meant when they spoke of the strange legless creatures of the homeworld. Most of them agreed that the smaller snakes were paradoxically more dangerous. While they contained less total venom, they were more apt to expend it when striking.
The Skritters had evolved to become this world’s version of snakes Gavin concluded. A younger creature had less surety of killing a man on its own, but it was far more likely to try.
Gavin shivered again, this time from cold. The temperature hadn’t dropped much yet, the chill felt only because of the nervous sweat that had broken out all over his body. It would steadily decline as the long night progressed though, becoming truly cold before Gavin reached Taragay. He carried only a light jacket, packing spare clothing as reluctantly as he’d packed food. Even without the threat of Skritters, he was in for an uncomfortable journey.
On the bright side, if it could be considered so, Gavin had always seemed to need less sleep when he was miserably cold. Anything that shaved a few hours off this journey, the wisdom of which he already doubted, would be worth it.
Gavin pulled his glowstone from the double layered pouch and held it over his maps. He hunched forward, using his body to shield the weak light, just in case a hungry Skritter should spot the unnatural illumination and be attracted to it. Stronger light sources kept them at bay. Lone glowstones just gave away the presence of defenseless meat.
Gavin tried to soak up the details until he could see every line in his head with his eyes closed. At the moment he had time. Later, with a hungry Skritter chasing him, he wouldn’t. He wanted to be ready, to know the contingency paths at every point, so that he would make the right decisions without having to think, should it become necessary.
The sounds of foot-spikes told Gavin his time was up. He had to move now, and study the map later. There was a long stretch of ridge walking ahead, if he could make it through a short section of canyon trails. Once on the ridge, where he could see for miles in every direction, he’d memorize the rest of the journey.
Gavin shoved the glowstone and maps back into his pack and took off at a steady jog. The Skritter wasn’t in sight, so no need to sprint just yet. The sounds of multiple limbs scraping the ground increased, a sign that the beast had been joined by friends and that they’d matched their speed to pursue.
This was worrisome, but Gavin managed to avoid total panic. He’d just studied the maps of trails ahead, and he knew that while he was in a stretch of canyon trails, dangerous because of the sheer sides that boxed him in, he was also in a network denser than anywhere else.
Gavin reached the first of many branches, picked his route as automatically as he’d hoped to do, and accelerated to a sprint. Within seconds he was passing the next junction, and then yet another. By the time the chilled air overwhelmed his heaving lungs and forced him to slow down, his pursuit had been lost far behind.
Whatever inhuman senses the Skritters might possess, they had never appeared much good at tracking humans who were outside the line of sight. Their efforts at guessing which of the many trails Gavin ultimately reached, were barely superior to random selection.
It had been a close call, and unless Gavin’s luck shifted, there would be more. Not far ahead he would find the trail leading up to the ridge. He couldn’t wait.
Gavin spotted the large Skritter well above, shadowing him at a respectful distance, all while discouraging him from taking any of the branches that would lead him back to the ridge. He’d seen it many times now, and on a few occasions he had speculated that it was the first creature he’d come across, having followed him all the way from Kerast.
That was madness though. It was just the effects of stress and sleep deprivation, culminating in a bizarre and useless form of paranoia. The older Skritters weren’t particularly interested in human meat, and there was no reason save hunger that one would pursue anyone over such a great distance. Taragay couldn’t be more than a handful of miles away by now. If Gavin were up on the ridge, he might even spot its towers, their pinnacles filled with mirrors and beckoning glowstones.
Gavin hadn’t slept for longer than a few minutes since beginning his journey, subsisting only on desperate catnaps, often caught while walking. Once, he’d even jolted awake to realize he’d passed at least one of the markers on his maps. He’d spent a few terrified minutes backtracking, until he was satisfied he hadn’t wandered off course.
Despite his previous experience with cold weather, and the deepening chill, well below the freezing point now, Gavin needed sleep badly. He also needed to keep moving in order to avoid hypothermia. Taragay couldn’t arrive a moment too soon.
Gavin came to another fork, another opportunity to take a trail leading upwards. He couldn’t see the large Skritter so he chanced it, almost jogging in his eagerness to be back in the clear. The trail twisted around a large boulder, and that’s when he saw it. It sat motionless, blocking his way and staring straight at him with the tiny black orbs that were its eyes.
Gavin backed away cautiously, noticing for the first time a gap in all the advice he’d received. He’d been told plenty about staying away from the creatures, and using their natural behaviors to his advantage. But neither of the cartographers had said anything about what to do if actually confronted. Should he charge and try to intimidate the beast? Should he make eye contact or look away? The questions tumbled over each other, all begging for answers.
The monster wasn’t moving, so the slow withdrawal seemed to be the correct move. Gavin reached the junction where he had first taken this trail and now continued along the lower path. He was still a good distance from the valleys and lower regions the Skritters preferred, and he took solace in knowing he’d already escaped them once. Even if they closed in on him, he could lose them in the network of pathways ahead.
A sudden click of foot-spike on rock spurred Gavin to new terror. The sound had come from behind. Had the large beast followed him? Gavin dared to look over his shoulder, spotting two smaller Skritters, neither more than half his size. These were likely the ones that would molt soon, emerging from their brief dormant periods as pure carnivores. They could still digest the crystalline deposits in the rock for now, but they were already equipped with a confidence their elders lacked.
The pair were nearly as formidable as the largest of their kind, if they worked together. And they stalked closer with a steady gait that suggested they knew it. Gavin might run, but he couldn’t stand and fight.
And so he ran, thankful that he’d devoted the last few miles of networked trails to memory. Fear and exertion triggered a blanketing sweat that would be slow to evaporate at this dark hour. If Gavin took a wrong turn and succumbed to exhaustion before reaching Taragay, he would be lost. Either the Skritters would claim him, or the cold would.
Several times he pushed himself to greater speed as he took branches without hesitation, hoping to lose his pursuers. Each time, when he looked back, something was scraping along behind. He began to suspect he was seeing different Skritters each time. Surely he’d outrun those that first trailed him? More were coming from off the trail, dropping down from above or pulling themselves up from below, scrabbling into his wake as he passed. They were herding him.
Gavin struggled to regain his composure and remind himself that couldn’t be the case. He might have had the misfortune of running right into a cluster of them, but they certainly weren’t working together to control his flight. As the surgeon had said, they were barely conscious, let alone sentient. Even the rare swarm had never expressed such intelligent and deliberate behavior.
No, it was just his ill luck to run into this network of passages just as a swarm of juveniles was making its way across. He was almost to the end now. There was a junction just ahead, two trails that recombined further ahead, and from there led straight into Taragay.
Gavin reached the fork just when he expected to. A quick look behind showed a cluster of Skritters, still following, but advancing more slowly now that he had stopped. Skritters had never been spotted on the final path as far as Gavin knew, and he had no reason to believe they would brave it now. That last mile faced straight into the glowstone beacons, as strong a deterrent as the scarlet circle of a noonday sun.
He just had to reach it, leaving just the choice of these two paths. One first rose and then descended, the other did the mirror opposite. The only danger was being cut off in front, and thus surrounded. Only then would the Skritters attack.
Was the migrating swarm moving up from below, or down from above? That was the question. If Gavin guessed wrong, anything could happen. If he guessed correctly, he would be safe, running down a trail they had yet to reach. Unfortunately, for the first time since he began planning this venture, he was forced to make a true choice. There was no way of hedging his bets this time, no backup plan. Take the upper road, or the one below. Or wait, waste precious seconds, and give the swarm more time to move in around him until both options became equally deadly.
In the end, it came down to a simple choice made years ago. When there was no time to weigh equal looking alternatives, Gavin would pick the one on the left, be that objects, people, or places. He took the “sinister” choice, rushing full speed onto that downward sloping path. It was only half a mile at most, meaning he’d be done in minutes, one way or another.
Conner struggled to fend off sleep, knowing he’d be caned if he was caught dozing on his shift again. Hardly anyone traveled at night, making his position as gatekeeper practically meaningless, but the Purple Guards took these things seriously.
A sudden scream pierced the night, echoing off the nearby cliffs until its origins were lost. A chill traveled down Conner’s spine and all desire for sleep vanished. Somewhere outside, but near, a man had just died.
Conner didn’t know who would be out there, or why. But he felt in his bones that this random death meant more than the loss of a single life, that something ominous was portended.
Thropper shoved aside the Skritters before they could mangle the corpse any further. He searched Gavin’s body quickly but thoroughly, aided by the lightness with which the young man had traveled. As expected, the boy had brought a copy of his data with him.
He’d been too clever for his own good, but in a way this had worked out for the best. Even though Thropper’s hand had been forced, in order to keep his secret, he’d learned something worth all the trouble. It had never occurred to him that he’d pushed the selective breeding too far, that the younger generation would be unable to sustain themselves without feeding on humans.
Starvation would make them uncontrollable, as Thropper’s early experiments had discovered. It would be best to cull them all, and allow nature to resume its course. Yes, that was the path he would take from here.
Poor Gavin. He’d done well, but for all his skill with numbers he’d never been cunning enough with people. He hadn’t realized until the last moment, that for him, both paths led to the same end. The moment he’d walked through Thropper’s door, he’d been Skritter food.
Thropper waited a few hours before resuming his march towards Taragay. The mayor of Kerast and his advisors hadn’t believed in the threat of course. Thropper had left out enough data to ensure that was the outcome, one of the reasons he needed to make sure nothing of that ilk was ever recovered from Gavin’s body.
After hearing Gavin’s ideas dismissed by the mayor, Thropper had announced that if no one else was taking the threat seriously, he would brave the night journey himself. For as much as he’d helped the young man already departed, he felt he was infinitely more qualified.
That boast had not been hyperbole, though the mayor and his circle of fools would never know it. Gavin would be marked as lost, Thropper would return with a load of fertilizer pellets that would never be marked up enough to justify the trip, and his lucrative business of mapping and guiding would continue undisturbed.
