I had never seen Korak so excited. It was his first interdimensional hunt, and his small frame practically quivered with anticipation. Personally, I found the transference into physical form thoroughly annoying. Too much sensory input overwhelming the capacity for reason. But I am old and jaded. My son is not. I have led many of these expeditions, which have become something of a rite of passage for our cadet classes.
It was quite a task holding the concentration necessary to perform the reduction into three-dimensional space. The parameters are tremendously restrictive; the natural tendency is to revert to light forms to avoid the terrible pressure of atmosphere, pull of gravity, slowness of time. But we are a disciplined race and train long and hard for these excursions. And we have learned to use a body design optimized for survival in this primitive field while providing the least resistance to its forces.
The coordinates of tonight’s raid were familiar. I had personally visited this triangulation point numerous times before. We had engaged in repeated practice runs to ensure that all the cadets would be able to maintain form while guiding their craft. A minor slip in concentration could have devastating consequences, trapping the unlucky ones in this limited reality or, worse yet, ending their existence altogether. Our colony had not forgotten the Roswell incident. Neither had the primitives, from what intelligence we were able to gather.
The objective was simple. Materialize in an isolated area, execute maneuvers, engage in weapons practice on some of the less sentient beings, and return to our own sphere of existence. Ours was not a martial society on the whole, and the excursions into 3-D were frowned upon by those of the colony who were aware of them, but our own security demanded that we have the capability to function at this level if the primitives should ever mount a threat. Certainly, they had not evolved that far, and were not likely to, but it remained a concern. And the amusement factor provided a certain incentive for our young to serve in the corps.
The jump into slow-time was wrenching, but the formation held together as it had during previous exercises. The cadets were performing well, selecting an area unlikely to provide primitive interference and selecting their desired targets. Korak’s concentration was palpable; he wanted to be one of the top hunters, qualified to return with a trophy or two from his kill.
It probably wouldn’t have seemed like much of a challenge from a primitive’s point of view, downing cattle with laser weapons, but to a hyperdimensional, actively applying physical force to a 3-D target while maintaining body image and avoiding the unintentional use of thoughtforms to accomplish the project was a tall order. So if those who were successful at the task chose to memorialize their foray with some crudely chosen bits of the unfortunate target, we tended to turn a blind eye. Even among hyperdimensionals, boys will be boys.
A red beam flashed from one of the other craft in the formation. It was premature; I had not given the signal to execute. But the beast was already downed, and it was too late to remedy the situation. I authorized, making a note to admonish the first shooter on our return.
It was only a momentary distraction, but one with terrible consequences. While my attention was elsewhere, Korak’s earlier excitement had turned into frenzy. Unused to the emotions occasioned by physical form, he lost control, firing wildly in all directions. There was a chain reaction among the other cadets. I could feel their thought force surge and disintegrate.
Try as I might to regain continuity, the formation wavered and fell apart. Three quarters of the force simply dematerialized. The remaining craft were scattered in several directions, zipping well past the appointed coordinates. The beasts on the ground below stampeded into the trees, making it difficult to get a clear shot.
Korak, determined to return with his trophy, piloted our craft east, toward a small herd outside a primitive habitation. I fought him for control, but the boy had always been willful, and his single-minded purpose overpowered me. He held my mind at bay, and hovered over his new targets. As he readied his weapon, I had the barest glimpse in my awareness that we had become targets as well. The explosion rang in my ears and I remember thinking that of all possible physical sensations, falling had to be one of the worst.
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