Chapter XII: Defensive Posture
The smell of Qo'nos had grown more ripened as Semil stepped out the decrepit entrance portico of the General's compound into the lightening jungle.
Having waited until daybreak, he had wandered down the unlit corridors of the building for more than an hour. The top level had been the only one with signs of life. The rest of the halls on the lower levels had clearly been unoccupied for quite some time, in clear disrepair. Mildew stained every wall. Vines, creepers, and tree branches invaded the rooms and hallways, the jungle lazily but confidently working to reclaim the compound.
He had found a nest of some clearly disagreeable rodent species in what seemed to have been an armory. What few bladed weapons remained had rusted over and dulled. He had picked out the least corroded bat'leth, and a tattered, mildewy shoulder holster in order to sling it behind his back.
He had found no other occupants of the compound. Once upon a time, it must haveve been one of the Great Houses. The labyrinth of corridors and numerous levels clearly indicated it had been a House of power, wealth, and influence; moreover, that it had clearly fallen into disfavor somewhere amidst the innumerable regime changes of the Empire.
An enormous, noisy wasp buzzed past his head and back into the endless expanse of flora and greenery. Semil had managed to keep track of his turns, and the direction of the First City in his memory. He reached for the bat'leth, turned the other direction, and began hacking his way through the thick undergrowth.
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Semil had lost track of time somewhere after the first hour. The temperature had rapidly climbed to a thorough swelter, and determining the position of the sun was near impossible through the dense canopy. His exposed arms had been bitten raw by all manner of creatures.
Despite the strength in his arms, he welcomed any clearing in the undergrowth he came across, and approached another one. In his peripheral vision, he could make out some sort of carcass - the faint remains of some sort of furred quadruped creature was all he could make out through the writhing wriggle of scavenging insects and haze of flies that buzzed about.
Having made it to the far side of the clearing, he thought it an opportune time to rest momentarily.
Semil reached into the small hip pouch he had hastily prepared himself from what he could find in the General's pantry for a canteen, and drank from it.
He had decided upon his escape from the General's compound with no conscious rationale, no plan other than to set out into the jungle and as far away from the General and K'vot as he could get. Returning to the Gamma Quadrant, to the Dominion and the Founders had been the furthest thing from his mind - as if they would even have him.
He'd already known for some time he had no termination implant. It had made sense to at least attempt some measure of escape to anywhere, or at least die trying. Pity no future Semil clones could at least benefit from his miserable ordeal, if only as a cautionary tale.
Semil gasped for, releasing his lips from the mouth of the canteen, having drunk more than he had intended to ration.
From behind him, he could hear the rustle of leaves signifying something attempting to stealthily approach. Noiselessly replacing the canteen into the hip pouch, he slowly reached his hand back to the handle of the bat'leth.
Pivoting to face the threat and drawing the bat'leth in a single fluid motion, he had to crane his neck upward to make out the towering, spindly creature, which had reared up on hindlegs and let out a threatened growl. It was furred, and sported long, razor thin claws. Semil recognized it from his briefing files as a Kolar beast, and a distempered one at that.
Semil drew his bat'leth into a defensive posture, prepared to deflect the creature's swipes, and began slowly pacing in a semicircle around it, trying to spot some tactical advantage in the terrain and environment in his peripheral vision. The creature let out another growl, this time louder and more noticeably annoyed. It punctuated its gesture with a snap of its toothless jaws; supposedly strong enough to break bone with minimal effort.
It had become apparent to Semil that the carcass he had seen earlier should have been a sign of a predator's territory. He would find time to castigate himself later, perhaps last thoughts as the creature disemboweled him.
Just then, the creature took a few test swipes at the Vorta. Nothing in earnest, only looking for weaknesses or cowardice or perhaps even surrender in the strange pale hairless interloper. Semil recognized these, and was prepared for the pounce of the creature - as it sprung forward at him with surprising force. He had managed to leverage the bat'leth up to deflect the sheer momentum of the attack to the side, only managing to nick the creature's substantial bulk mildly in doing so.
it was clearly enough to irritate the creature even further, as it slinked away suspiciously, circling back in preparation for another pass. Semil intuitied that the creature would eventually win in a match of stamina, ultimately expending more energy to keep deflecting the creature than it would to keep attacking.
As the creature wound up its rear legs, Semil grew decisive, adjusted his grip on the bat'leth, and squatted slightly in order to prepare his own counter.
From only a few meters, the Kolar beast sprang forward at him again, this time with a far less vocal, more efficient growl.
Semil reacted almost instantly, spring himself forward to meet the creature, trying to lead the creature's trajectory across the forest clearing with the pointed end of the bat'leth, supported by as much of his momentum and the strength of his legs as he could.
There was a satisfying crunch from the bat'leth as it met its target, followed instantly by a piercing howl. Semil had little time to delight, before realizing the creature's weight was substantially greater than he had prepared himself for.
Unable to steady himself, Semil had just enough time to twist the bat'leth to his side to avoid the other pointed end before the creature's great heft crashed into him.
At least he wasn't going to die impaled on his own bat'leth. However, he soon found himself lying beneath the great mass of fur and muscle and bone, pinned and unable to breath.
He had just noticed the creature's claws had managed to gash three deep parallel wounds into his thigh.
The creature's own breathing had started to slow and relax, as the jungle around him grew quieter. Just before he blacked out, Semil could just make out the light rustle of individual leaves as they fell to the forest floor.
