"There are Jaguars in this valley? I thought they'd cleared out".
"Change your mind?" Valentine asked.
Hornbreed searched the skies. "No. Generally it's best to wait for help to arrive".
Valentine moved to the other side of the cactus-shrouded enclosure. "I'm not one for waiting. But you know your fliers".
"There are more pilots than there are operational ships. But I'm a wing leader. My pilots will come".
Valentine scanned the ground around the overturned plane again. Was there a new shadow next to the brush in front of the engine?
"I like your confidence", Valentine said.
"Stay put and wait", Hornbreed said. "I was a Youth Vanguard leader up Provo way. Worked my way up from larva to scout ant to warrior-guard. We'd go out on squat clearance, burning old homes and buildings outside of town, finding hidden livestock and fields. One time we came on... sheesh, I don't know what to call it. I guess a pilgrimage. Thousand people or more on foot heading for California, hauling stuff on bicycles and handcarts. Our leader decided to follow 'em, see what they were up to. We just walked up and asked where they were going. They got rounded up, of course, and boy, did we hear it from the Churchmen when they found us dogging the column. They kicked the leader right out of the Vanguard. Worked out for me, though, I was the one who argued that we'd been told to burn down
houses and we shouldn't go mixing with deadfeets. Were you in the Vanguard?"
"I grew up off the grid, more or less", Valentine said, still scanning. "I did help teach in a Churchman's one-room schoolhouse". His eyes caught a brief flurry of bouncing brown balls. By the time he got his glasses up and located, the might-bes had vanished into an arroyo.
But the heads were on course for the wreck.
Hornbreed let out a little gasp. "Huff. I always fell asleep somewhere between collective rights and mankind's atrocity catechism".
Definite movement at the wreck now. Through field glasses Valentine watched a scout explore.
"Well, the Jaguars are at your wreck", Valentine said.
Hornbreed shrugged.
The scout entered the overturned craft, which tipped a little as his weight changed its center of balance. A minute later he emerged again, eating from the broken jar of plums. With the sun now fully behind the mountains the desert flats turned blue. The clouds above warmed into reds, golds, and pinks and purples.
Valentine decided he could get used to desert-country sunsets, but he kept his attention on the wreck. More Jaguars had shown up and were now tearing the little ship apart, salvaging everything from bits of wire to the seat covers. Hornbreed took one brief look and handed the glasses back. "Savages. I can't watch any more".
A Jaguar in much longer furs, cut about his shoulders like a cape made of animal tails, with a spotted headband around his forehead and furry-trimmed sandals, began a rampage. With a good deal of gesturing toward the mountains behind Valentine he gave his tribesmen a dressing-down, put them in a staggered line like a top sergeant with well-trained recruits, and hustled them away with a glance or two behind.
Valentine couldn't help but turn and look at the darkening peaks behind.
"What do you know about these mountains?" Valentine asked Hornbreed.
"Some farms and ranches on the other side. Pretty well organized,
typical Aztlan stuff. There are collar towers below the ridgeline - they're easy to spot from the air".
"Collar towers?"
"Keeps the peons on their ranchos. The collars tighten if they start to stray. Top-quality Korean electronics".
"What about this side?"
"Sheep. Mud pueblos".
Had these mountains turned into a choking, deathly place according to local legend? Then why did the medicine man have to remind his tribesmen?
Hornbreed stretched out, pulled his reflective survival blanket up. "Long, bad day. I'm going to try to sleep off this headache".
"Should we set a watch?"
"You're my rescuer. If anything's going to happen, it'll happen whether we set a watch or not. They outnumber us twenty to two". He blew his nose again. "You wouldn't know it to hear me, but I am a healthy specimen. Just spring air".