"Shot the monster!" Rasmussen cried. He thrust another tube into his firearm and raised it to his shoulder. A thin puff of smoke and a second explosion burst from the barrel. "Again!" Rasmussen exulted.
"What are you doing?" I roared. "I was ready to kill him, and you started exploding that thing!"
The clearing was now empty. A nearly human squeal lingered in the warm air.
"Go find the carcass," Rasmussen said. "Am too old for hiking. The Hog did not stay long in the sun. Were too slow."
Mumbling, I pulled a ranger from my pack and swept the forest with it. I stopped. In an arbor formed by vinetree branches, I saw part of the Hog's head and forequarters at a range of 523 meters. "He's on his feet," I said.
"Where?" Rasmussen gasped.
"One shot," I promised. I jacked the robotic higher and once more focussed the sight. I threw the main switch. The weapon hummed. The barrel moved slightly upward and to the left. The robotic made a spitting noise.
Even as the thud of the exploding pellet reached us two seconds later, I was choking, "A-an antelope, or something! It jumped in front of the Hog. The pellet hit it! That's the only way a robotic can miss—if something covers the target. This is the first—"
Rasmussen laughed. "Perhaps will die from my bullets," he chuckled. "Go look for him, if not afraid. Incidentally, it is unlawful for an alien to kill game on Maggie."
I searched the trees with the ranger, but saw no life except a flock of birds disturbed by the blast. I shouldered my pack, picked up the hisser, and stalked down the hill into the vines.