Chapter 322

Jeff noticed that the General had moved a few paces away from the gift assembly area and seemed to be talking on his radio via his throat mike. After a few moments, Whitworth returned to kneel down and hold the rear wheel on the bike as Jeff tightened the axle nut. "Looks even," the General said as Jeff gave the final tug on the wrench. As they started on the front wheel, "Colonel, I've just been told that a vid is ready and I would like you to watch it with me." Before Jeff could respond, Whitworth went on, "Carter and Jones are on the way to relieve us so we can take the time off to watch it."

"Certainly, Sir," Jeff responded, wondering why the General wanted to do it now, of all times.

A few minutes later, Carter called the General back on the troop channel to tell him the two men were approaching the basement door, only to have the AI announce the same thing almost simultaneously.

After greetings from everyone and a few minutes of instruction, the two big men were ensconced in the assembly process.

Nat, Nicki and Whitney hurried to bring coffee and doughnuts to the new arrivals, hugging them and making them feel welcome.

"We'll be in the General's office," the Prime told the Clan Queen as they walked by.

As they made their way toward Whitworth's office, Jeff kept wondering why the General was interested in watching the latest vid just now. He seemed to be totally into helping assemble the toys, now why this all of a sudden?

As if reading his mind, Whitworth glanced at Jeff to say with a grin, "You'll understand why shortly, and we'll be back assembling those kids' things together, but while we were working, I had an idea, and if we're to act on it, we need to start the process now."

Jeff knew the General wasn't likely to tell him more, so he didn't bother to ask. Shortly, the two men were in Whitworth's office, each with coffee in hand as the General turned back to his Colonel. "Since we viewed that planet 2214 vid together, I've continued to watch segments as they became available – actually one in the morning, then another in late afternoon – to keep up with what Morales is doing. What we are going to watch is a synopsis of those segments, some of which I've already seen, plus the latest segment tacked onto the end that I haven't watched yet."

They settled in to enjoy the vid, as they had before, and a little later, both men chuckled at Morales' antics as he dug the holes for the larger poles in the cave walls. "Shit, that's gotta be a bitch trying to dig that deep a hole only a few inches or so off the floor and parallel to it," Jeff commented as Morales began.

Morales had tried several ways, then settled on slamming the post hole digger between his legs while on his knees – nude – his dick flopping around looking ridiculous with every lunge of the hole digger. He didn't slack up, though, but continued to attack the dirt wall of the cave, his movements almost violent. It wasn't long before his sweating body was covered in dust and dirt.

The wall Morales was digging into was hard-packed, to understate, and consequently, he was forced to put forth the maximum amount of effort to make the blades of the digger bite into the dirt. On one particular straining thrust of the digger, he farted – long and loud.

"Well," Whitworth said past a snigger, "sounded like he put everything he had into that one." Then after a pause, "That fucker is determined. I'll give him that." There was a hint of ... pride, or perhaps grudging respect, in the General's voice.

Later, after the vid skipped forward, they heard the saber tooth let out an almost deafening roar. Morales, in his anger and frustration, shot a bird toward the entrance to his cave and shouted out, "Come get me, kitty-cat!"

"Looks as if our boy is a bit pissed," the General commented.

Then a little later, they heard Morales mutter, "One of us is going to die, and soon."

Jeff and Whitworth passed a glance before Jeff spoke. "I hope he doesn't let his temper override reason. He has a good chance of winning a confrontation if he waits for the cat to try to force its way in, but that crossbow doesn't have the stopping power for Morales to go hunt out the beast on its own turf ... and survive."

Then as the vid skipped again, "Shit, that fucker pissed all around the entrance," the General said. "Now I'm worried. I suspect that pussycat did that deliberately, and that's going to piss off Morales even more."

Further along in the vid, Jeff commented, "Looks like he isn't too pleased that we didn't send more supplies with him."

Whitworth pulled on his cigar as he glanced over at his Colonel, but otherwise, didn't respond.

There had been scenes as Morales cut wood, tidied his living quarters and generally went on with his life, but no matter what he did, his breaks from work were short-lived. He seemed to spend almost every waking moment working toward some goal, all the while – at least when he was outside the cave – keeping an apparent constant vigil regarding what was going on around him. Sleep appeared to be way down the list of what he considered to be important.

When Jeff looked at Whitworth and raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, yeah, I know," the General almost guiltily responded, "he's definitely gotten my attention, but dammit, he acts differently than any of the other prisoners we've sent to 2214. Oh, some of the others worked to stay alive, true, but let's face it, most criminals are too fucking lazy to work at a meaningful job, and that becomes evident when they need to prepare a safe haven to survive on the prison planet. A couple even found caves, but their attempts to fortify them were ludicrous when compared to what Morales has done. Fuck. One of the idiots even built himself a half-assed tree house.

"And before you ask, it wasn't an animal that killed him. He fell out of it one night and broke his fucking neck. I've already told you about the only longtime survivors. You remember; the two guys that have been working together. They've built themselves a small cabin, but they've had luck on their side so far. If the saber tooth comes visiting, I suspect they're going to be toast. Morales, on the other hand ... well he's putting forth more effort than any of them that we've kept track of. Oh, as you know, they are all tagged, so we'll be informed when they die, and I really couldn't care less if they live or die. After all, they have life sentences, every last one of them. It's up to them if the sentence is a long or a short one."

"But Morales..." Jeff started.

"Is ... interesting."

The General paused the vid. "The smell of those doughnuts when we were downstairs..."

Jeff took the hint. "I'll bet Diana left some in the kitchen when they finished making them this morning. Want me to look?"

Jeff didn't wait for an answer. A few minutes later, he was back with a platter of the freshly-cooked doughnuts. "I popped them into the microwave long enough to warm them."

Whitworth grinned at his Colonel. "Beats the shit out of popcorn while we watch our ... movie."

The men resumed watching as Morales, pulling his empty case, trudged cautiously through the woods toward the valley. A little later as he stood looking out onto the plains, "Surely that fucker isn't thinking of trying for one of those?" the General said, nodding to the buffalo displayed on the giant screen. Just then, the big bull and his two compatriots charged the panther. Both men sat quietly as the three bulls stomped and bellowed out their frustration when the panther dashed away from the lumbering giants.

The scene blipped forward again, resuming as Morales crawled toward his ambush point. "Shit," the General snarled. "I had hopes this guy was going to make it. He's used good, solid judgment until now, but he might just as well be going after a fucking tank as one of those beasts. How in the hell does he expect to kill one with a fucking crossbow?"

"Well, otherwise, he's cautious. He keeps looking behind him," Jeff commented.

The General let out a chuckle. "With what those bulls were after, wouldn't you? I would not want to be in that tall grass knowing that panther thing was in there somewhere. Morales just needs to try for something a bit smaller than a fucking tank."

"Oh, I agree. But hunger is a powerful motivator, and remember, if he's to survive the winter, he's going to need a lot more than that antelope hide. I suspect he knows he won't make it unless he has more clothing to keep him warm. A thick buffalo robe or blanket could make a lot of difference, and those buffalo have long, thick hair." There was quiet for a moment, then, "Think he'll take the buffalo and survive, Sir? Or have you already watched all the vid?"

"No, not this part of it. I waited to watch it with you. But the Sergeant notified me that there was an event that I should probably see."

"Wouldn't the Sergeant have told you if Morales got his ass killed?"

"Ordered him to not tell me," Whitworth said, reaching to take another doughnut from the platter.

As Morales settled down to wait for the animal to graze closer, Jeff refreshed their coffee. The vid blipped forward again, having been edited by the technicians before the Sergeant sent it to the General. There was another short segment while Morales changed bolts in his crossbow. "What the hell did he do that for?" the General muttered. Then louder, "He had a hunting tip ready. I could clearly see it. Why do you suppose he changed bolts?"

Stopping the vid, Whitworth turned to his computer to bring up the inventory of items that were sent with Morales. After a little searching, he found the list of arrows and bolts. "There," Jeff said, leaning over the General's shoulder to point at the screen. "He has three bolts with penetrator heads. Some of your people knew what they were doing. Morales is going for a head shot."

"Son-of-a-bitch," Whitworth said, stretching out the term. "I'll have to ask the techs to be sure, but I don't think anyone else we've sent to 2214 has taken one of the buffalo. I know of at least two who have tried, and I don't know if the buffalo survived, but they sure as hell didn't. Each of them wounded a buffalo, but both times the herd gored and stomped the human to mush. Morales is trying to bite off one hell of a chunk. Once he wounds that thing, the whole herd will be on him like stink on shit."

"But if Morales doesn't wound him?" Jeff asked rhetorically.

"The head shot? Bastard's got balls. Think the crossbow will penetrate that fucker's head?"

Jeff shrugged, but otherwise didn't answer.

The scene blipped forward. This time, the young bull was much closer and seemed even bigger on the screen, but the other bulls, a little farther off, seemed somehow out of proportion, because they were so huge.

As one of the probes zoomed the view of Morales' in, the sweat pouring down his face was startlingly evident. "I'll bet some of that sweat isn't because of the heat," Whitworth said, dryly.

Jeff let out a chuckle. "You can bet on it." Then, "Here it comes," as on screen Morales tucked his face to the crossbow sights.

After a few moments, they heard the distinct, "Whap," as the crossbow released its arrow.

"Well, I'll be damned," the General muttered as Morales' bolt struck the side of the young bull's head, penetrating almost to the fletching. The bull shivered for a second, then fell in a puff of dust. "The bull didn't even fucking twitch," Whitworth said, coming to his feet in his excitement, only to sheepishly regain his seat a moment later.

In the grass, Morales rolled to his back and quickly cocked his crossbow.

"I can't believe the herd didn't notice," the General continued. "I'm telling you this guy has cast iron balls, and a fucking truckload of luck. Too fucking bad he had to be a criminal."