Oblonsky, rattled, fired first but wildly, and most of his cartridge rounds ended up in the surrounding trees, or tinged harmlessly off the Huntbear’s thick groznium legs. While the Huntbear advanced another crashing step toward them, Small Stiva skittered off into the cover of the undergrowth.
Levin, calmly taking aim at the thrashing beast, noticed for the first time that the Huntbear was accompanied by a cub-a nice naturalistic touch. He would try to remember to thank his groundskeeper for providing an especially delightful day’s Hunt-and-be-Hunted.
Levin shot once and missed. The Huntbear swatted Oblonsky with the back of its paw, hard enough to knock him down but not to kill; Oblonsky cried out in genuine terror-like most first-time Hunt-and-be-Hunters, he forgot in the heat of the action that Huntbears were programmed with the Iron Laws and so could never do real harm to humans.
Levin shot again and scored a clean hit in the belly of the beast-the ursine robot monster reared back in simulated pain. At that moment, a hawk flew high over a forest far away with a slow sweep of its wings, and another flew with exactly the same motion in the same direction and vanished. The Huntbear paused in its rampage, its sensors distracted by the graceful black swoop of the hawk, and Levin took his opportunity: he fired his rifle exactly four times, with deadly precision-bang, bang, bang, bang-alternating, one shot to bring down a hawk, one shot in the right eye of the Bear, one for the other hawk, one for the other eye.
Birds twittered more and more loudly and busily in the neighboring thicket. An owl hooted not far off. The Bear, its brain circuits shattered by Levin’s shots, clattered to the ground like a fallen tree. Oblonsky hesitantly rose to his feet, laughing with easy good humor at his momentary panic, just as Small Stiva emerged from the bush clutching both dead hawks with the pincer of a single end-effector.
The Hunt-and-be-Hunted was capital. Stepan Arkadyich shot two more birds and Levin two, of which one was not found. It began to get dark. Venus, bright and silvery, shone with her soft light low in the west behind the birch trees, and Levin gazed happily at the planet with a loving look, wondering why the sight, which he had seen so many times before, should inspire in him such a sense of pleasure and calm.
The snipe had ceased flying; but Levin resolved to stay a little longer, till Venus, which he saw below a branch of birch, should be above it. Then Venus had risen above the branch, yet still he waited.
“Isn’t it time to go home?” said Stepan Arkadyich.
It was quite still now in the copse, and not a bird was stirring.
“Let’s stay a little while,” answered Levin.
“As you like.”
They were standing now about fifteen paces from one another.
“Stiva!” said Levin unexpectedly. “How is it you don’t tell me whether your sister-in-law’s married yet, or when she’s going to be?”
Levin felt so resolute and serene that no answer, he fancied, could affect him. But he had never dreamed of what Stepan Arkadyich replied.
“She’s never thought of being married, and isn’t thinking of it; but she’s very ill, and the doctors have sent her into orbit around Venus.”
Venus. Levin stared up again at the distant body, and felt its tug upon his heart.
“They’re positively afraid she may not live.”
“What!” cried Levin. “Very ill? What is wrong with her? How has she…?”
Before he could inquire further into her condition, at that very instant both suddenly heard a shrill whistle which, as it were, smote on their ears; it was Small Stiva, bleating out the alarm again. Both suddenly seized their guns and two flashes gleamed as they pumped a combined seventeen rounds into the tiny groznium body of the Huntbear cub.
They stood together over the smoldering heap of the fallen Huntbear, flushed with pleasure at the unexpected victory, each humorously blaming the other for having forgotten about the cub.
“Splendid! Together!” cried Levin. Oh, yes, what was it that was unpleasant? he wondered. Yes, Kitty’s ill… Well, it can’t be helped; I’m very sorry, he thought.
They tromped back to Levin’s estate, and did not see that, as soon as they turned their backs, a head like that of a worm, only closer in size to a dog’s head, emerged from the rough forest ground as if from a tunnel; and they did not see this worm head open a grotesque, gaping mouth and suck up the shattered groznium skeleton of the Huntbear cub, before disappearing again beneath the earth’s surface.
CHAPTER 9
ALTHOUGH ALL VRONSKY’S INNER LIFE was absorbed in his passion, his external life unalterably and inevitably followed along the old accustomed lines of his social and regimental ties and interests. The interests of his regiment, the Circling Hawks of the Borderland, took an important place in Vronsky’s life, both because he was fond of the regiment, and because his regiment was fond of him. They were not only fond of Vronsky in his regiment, they respected him too, and were proud of him; proud that this man, with his immense wealth, his brilliant education and abilities, and the path open before him to every kind of success, distinction, and ambition, had disregarded all that, and of all the interests of life had the interests of his Border regiment and his comrades nearest to his heart. Vronsky was aware of his comrades’ view of him, and in addition to his liking for the life, he felt bound to keep up that reputation.
It need not be said that he did not speak of his love to any of his comrades, nor did he betray his secret even in the wildest drinking bouts (though indeed he was never so drunk as to lose all control of himself). And he shut up any of his thoughtless comrades who attempted to allude to his connection. But in spite of that, his love was known to all the town; everyone guessed with more or less confidence at his relations with Madame Karenina. The majority of the younger men envied him for just what was the most irksome factor in his love-the exalted position of Karenin, and the consequent publicity of their connection in society. Only a few of the younger members, men who harbored half-secret jealousies of Vronsky’s rank and ambition, whispered that such an assignation-to the wife of a man in the secretive world of the Higher Branches-might carry dangers beyond that attending to a commonplace adulterous intrigue.
Besides the service and society, Vronsky had another great interest-the annual gladiatorial contest, known as the Cull, by which advancement in the regiment was determined. He was passionately fond of these contests, had done particularly well in the last, and looked forward with savage glee to the next, which was now rapidly approaching.
The contest took place in a great arena, witnessed by vast crowds of spectators. Every member of the regiment donned their own customized, death-dealing, armor-plated suit known as an Exterior, and entered into mass free-for-all combat, man against man against man, until the weaker ones were destroyed. Those that emerged victorious-as Vronsky, so far, always had-earned not only glory but advancement in rank.
That year’s intra-regimental Exterior battle had been arranged for the officers and was rapidly approaching. In spite of his love affair, he was looking forward to the match with intense, though reserved, excitement.
These two passions did not interfere with one another. On the contrary, he needed occupation and distraction quite apart from his love, so as to recruit and rest himself from the violent emotions that agitated him.