Chapter 7: Cooperation
His heart seizing, Zhao Man ducked sideways on pure reflex. A four-legged lizard, thick as a human calf, half a meter long, and sporting an emerald-green back, whipped around and lunged at him again with bared jaws.
Zhao Man raised the machete in his right hand and hacked down in a frantic frenzy. As the desperate flurry met resistance, he threw his entire weight onto the blade to pin the beast to the earth, his left hand darting into the side pocket of his pack for his dagger. He stabbed downward in a wild, manic rhythm.
By the time he came back to his senses, the lizard’s skull had been pulverized into mush, his machete firmly wedged deep into its front shoulder. Zhao Man’s chest heaved violently. In the distance, three giant red ants were twitching their antennae, crawling straight toward him. Scrambling to his feet, Zhao Man grabbed the long walking stick nearby, gauged the angle and distance, and swung it against the ground with every shred of strength he possessed.
Whoosh!
The air seemed to sheer apart. Crack, crack, crack! Three successive blows slammed into the earth, snapping the three ants clean in two.
In that fleeting second, an eerie calm washed over him. All he could hear was his own ragged wheezing. His chest rose and fell in violent spasms until the adrenaline finally ebbed, leaving his legs turned to jelly as he collapsed onto the dirt.
Catching his breath, Zhao Man picked himself up and swept his eyes across the perimeter. Once certain no one was around, he shoved the three ants and the four-legged lizard beneath the bundle of foxtail grass, crouched beside the sand yams, and began scanning them.
With his head cleared, the pain rushed back in full force. A gash stung across his face, and his forearm bore a bloody set of claw marks from the lizard. Forcing his trembling frame to keep moving, he resumed checking the haul. Somewhere during his mad scramble, several of the longer sand yams had snapped in half, but he couldn’t be bothered to search for the missing pieces. Out of the armful he’d dragged down, only ten roots tested edible. He stuffed the smaller ones and the folded lengths into his pack, hurling the inedible duds far into the brush. That left only the ants and the lizard.
Pulling up his terminal, Zhao Man searched the forums. Fortunately, the basic survival compendium offered clear answers.
The energy stones of both ants and four-legged lizards were nestled inside their bellies. Zhao Man pinned an ant’s abdomen with his dagger in his left hand, using the hooked tip of his machete to slice it open with painstaking care. After rummaging through the viscera for a good while, he finally extracted a milky-white stone the size of a pinky nail. Tearing off a blade of foxtail grass, he wrapped it snugly and slipped it into his backpack.
Out of three ants, only one yielded an energy stone. Moving to the four-legged lizard, Zhao Man sliced directly from the front limbs downward, unearthing two stones from its cavity. Wrapping them with equal care, he took several photos of the beastly carcasses, followed by wide shots of the low hill. Noting the lizard’s four curved talons were remarkably sharp, he severed them, swaddled them in leaves, and stuffed them deep into the core of the foxtail grass bundle. Hoisting the bundle onto his shoulder, he started back toward the base.
It was barely ten in the morning, but Zhao Man’s limbs were drained of all strength, his heart hammering against his ribs. The throbbing ache in his arm flared hotter by the minute. He didn’t dare linger out in the wilds any longer; he just wanted to crawl home and lie down. Taking a couple of steps, he realized his foot throbbed as well; tugging off his boot, he found his ankle bruised purple and swollen.
He limped back toward the perimeter. The road remained completely deserted. Outside the massive gatehouse, a handful of sickly, elderly drifters still lounged against the concrete, but taking one look at Zhao Man—scratched across the face, hair in wild disarray, limping with a grim snarl while brandishing a heavy machete with the outline of a dagger bulging from his pack—they instantly abandoned whatever predatory notions they had entertained.
Returning home without further hitch, Zhao Man deposited the fresh sand yams beside yesterday’s batch in the kitchen. He spread the foxtail grass across the kindling pile to cure in the sun, tossed the four severed claws haphazardly onto the floor, rinsed the energy stones clean with water, wrapped them in a scrap of cloth, and tucked them into the bamboo stalk beneath his bed. Taking a swig from his water flask, Zhao Man sank against the wall onto the bare floor.
Once seated, he found he couldn’t get back up. His heart raced with terrifying speed. Only now did the lingering terror and sheer agony crash over him—a stinging burn across his face, a searing throb running along his arm.
Steeling his resolve, Zhao Man forced himself to his feet, locked the door, and limped off to the clinic.
Registering and seeing a doctor followed. The gash on his face and the twisted ankle were inconsequential, easily treated with a quick spritz of trauma spray; the real hazard was the claw wound across his arm.
The moment the physician heard it was inflicted by a mutated beast while scavenging, he initiated a thorough disinfection, administered a dose of broad-spectrum antibiotics, and confined Zhao Man to an isolation booth for two hours of observation. Two hours later, showing neither fever nor signs of rabies-like frenzy, Zhao Man was discharged with a box of oral suspension. This routine run of medical care set him back a staggering thirty points.
Now his heart stopped racing, and his limbs ceased their shaking. The agony had simply migrated directly to his soul and his wallet: I am never getting sick or hurt again.
Clutching the oral medication and trauma spray, Zhao Man trudged back through his door. Having swallowed such a massive financial loss, he swore he would harvest every last one of those sand yams.
Zhao Man scrutinized the photos on his terminal first, ensuring they revealed nothing beyond the corpses of the ants and the lizard framed against common foxtail grass, with no distinct landmarks in view. Satisfied, he forwarded the images to Tang Heng.
No reply.
Stowing the terminal, Zhao Man leaned against the bamboo logs to rest. If Tang Heng didn’t answer by nightfall, he would take his business to another patrol team.
His ankle still ached, and it was still early, so Zhao Man sprawled across the floor and drifted to sleep.
In his dream, Zhao Man found himself encircled by swarms of crimson ants and emerald lizards. He swung his machete with reckless abandon, but an enormous lizard dropped from the canopy straight toward his face. A tide of pitch-black darkness swallowed his vision, and with a sharp, gasping inhale, he snapped awake.
Sitting upright against the wall with his neck stiff, he felt even more drained than before his nap. Bzz, bzz. His terminal vibrated. He picked it up to see Tang Heng’s name flashing on the screen.
“Hello, Captain Tang.”
“How big is that ant colony?” Tang Heng’s end was dead silent, lending his voice an uncharacteristic gravitas.
“Above ground, it’s about a meter tall,” Zhao Man recalled.
“And the lizard’s habitat?”
“Neither big nor small.”
Silence stretched over the line for several beats before the voice came through again: “What kind of flora grows around the lizard’s grounds?”
“That’s a bit intrusive, don’t you think, Captain Tang?” Still weak and worn, Zhao Man’s tone came out soft yet sharp. “If that’s how you’re going to pry, you can pretend I never sent those pictures.”
“Hey, easy now. I’m just trying to get a clear picture. Is the ant mound close to the lizard’s nest? Those red ants are venomous. A meter above ground means god knows how sprawling it is underneath. If the two nests overlap, my squad can’t swallow this alone.” Tang Heng softened his tone, sounding considerably more affable.
“Then go find yourself some backup, Captain Tang. Once you’ve got your partners lined up, come to my place, and we’ll talk details.” With that, Zhao Man hung up.
Checking the time, he saw it was barely one in the afternoon. The scratches on his face and ankle had already knitted together, and the wound on his arm had crusted into a firm scab. He stretched his limbs; it stung a little, but his mobility was intact. Returning to the kitchen, he boiled water to cook potatoes and sand yams. Say what you will about the base’s exorbitant medical fees; their pharmaceuticals were undeniably miraculous.
Browsing his terminal while minding the stove, he waited for Tang Heng. Once the water boiled, he blanched the water dropwort, tossed it with a pinch of salt, and paired it with the potatoes.
By the time he finished eating, Tang Heng had still not arrived. Zhao Man gathered the dried greens and shoots into the bamboo storage tubes beneath his bed, grabbed his hoe, and headed into the bamboo grove to dig up more earth.
He worked along yesterday’s boundary. The arable patch was far too small; to maximize his yield, Zhao Man dug deeper into the ground. Whether this deeper soil could actually support crops was anyone’s guess, but stockpiling it couldn’t hurt.
Right in the middle of his efforts, his terminal chimed. Tang Heng’s voice came through: “Open the door. It’s Tang Heng.”
Resting the hoe, Zhao Man walked back into the courtyard and unlocked the front entrance. Standing beside Tang Heng was another male Alpha. Slightly shorter than Tang Heng but equally dark-skinned, he wore glasses and carried a refined, scholarly air.
“You’re injured?” The moment the door swung open, Tang Heng caught the distinct herbal scent of compound moss balm.
Zhao Man blinked in momentary surprise, not expecting him to ask. On second thought, since he was about to hand them a lucrative payday, a bit of basic courtesy was only natural.
“Minor scratch. Already went to the clinic. Won’t affect tomorrow.”
Tang Heng paused, then shifted the subject to introduce his companion: “This is Zhao Qingjin, Captain of Patrol Brigade 7. And this is Zhao Man.”
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
Zhao Man invited them inside. The two men stepped into the open recreation space by the entrance and stayed put, showing no urge to wander. Zhao Man had no intention of leading them back toward the kitchen either.
“Pardon the humble place. Make yourselves comfortable,” Zhao Man said, gesturing toward the four severed talons lying in the corner. The two captains stepped over, each picking up a pair to inspect them closely.
Confirming they had been severed cleanly with a blade within the last ten hours, Tang Heng said, “You’ve got some nerve. Let’s cut to the chase: what do you want?”
“An ant colony and a four-legged lizard nest. Two locations. How many points are you offering?” Zhao Man asked.
“We won’t shortchange you. If you don’t report it through official channels, our two squads will pool together fifty points for you. You won’t have to lift a finger during the hunt, but you won’t take a cut of the final haul either. If you have any other conditions, lay them on the table,” Zhao Qingjin said.
Zhao Man looked at him, noting that Tang Heng remained silent. While waiting for them earlier, Zhao Man had browsed the base code and discovered that reporting mutated beasts yielded a base bounty of five points, with small performance bonuses depending on the creature’s value—capping out at ten points each. Two nests would fetch twenty points at best. Zhao Man nodded. “There are edible resources growing out there. Those belong to me. In addition, you two have to help me haul some cargo back.”
“If there’s an abundance of food, whoever digs it keeps it. Hauling cargo is no problem,” Tang Heng offered.
“What kind of food?” Zhao Qingjin asked.
Zhao Man glanced at him, stepped back into the kitchen, sliced two portions of cooked sand yam with his knife, and handed one to each man.
The two took them and took a bite. Zhao Qingjin noted, “This is exceptionally filling, and it belongs to an undocumented species. If you don’t report the discovery to the base, we’ll tack on an extra ten points. Furthermore, all edible specimens belong to you, while the inedible parts go to us.”
This ventured beyond Zhao Man’s knowledge. He immediately asked, “Is there a bounty for reporting new species?”
“There is. A regular resident gets ten points for reporting one. But if a patrol squad logs it, we receive additional performance merits on top of the points,” Tang Heng chimed in quickly, keen not to let Zhao Man lean entirely toward Zhao Qingjin.
“That’s right,” Zhao Qingjin agreed. “We turn over the high-radiation specimens to the base for cultivation and hybridization, which credits directly to our squad’s performance evaluations. For a high-yield, filling crop like this, the merit yield is substantial.”
Seeing Zhao Man nod, Tang Heng said, “Seven o’clock tomorrow morning, then. We’ll pick you up, and you guide the way.”
“Deal.”
Before leaving, Zhao Qingjin added, “Let’s exchange comm codes. If you run into anything like this in the future, come straight to me. I guarantee a price that satisfies you.”
Zhao Man pulled out his terminal and added the contact. With another buyer in his roster, he could play the market next time.
