DS02 Night of the Dragonstar

by David Bischoff

  “Why the hell does this have to happen now? I’ve got a whole damn movie crew coming up on the shuttle tomorrow. They’ve got a schedule to keep for World Media Corporation.”

  “Well, if you ask me, Colonel, this VLF radiation increase seems a sight more important than a bunch of reporters’ fucking schedules.” Jakes let slip what he had been thinking. He had noticed a reluctance on Kemp’s part to really involve himself in the things he’d been hearing. That goddamned documentary was filling his head with delusions of grandeur.

  “I haven’t asked you, Dr. Jakes. And I’ll remind you that it isn’t your job to worry about the priorities of this project. I’m glad you had the presence of mind to alert me to what’s been happening, and I appreciate the vigilance and responsibility of your people. But please, Doctor, leave the priorities and the decision-making to me.”

  Jakes was getting hot, but he did his best to control himself. “Well, what do you want us to do about everything?”

  “Listen, Bob, I can tell you’re upset. Why don’t you just relax and put this thing on a back burner for a week or so? This documentary crew will be in and out of here in ten days. Then we can all get back to business, all right?”

  “I’m sorry, Phineas, but I think that attitude is plain stupid, and I’ll go on record to that effect.”

  Kemp laughed. “What the hell’s gotten into you, Bob?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question.”

  There was a pause at the other end of the line. Then: “Listen, we’re getting ready to touch down at Vandenberg, and I don’t have time to get into an argument with you. Things will keep for at least another day or two until I’m back on board. I promise I’ll see you as soon as I get back. Sorry, Bob, but I’ve got to sign off.”

  Jakes hung up the receiver angrily. “Goddamn it, sometimes that guy pisses me off!”

  “I can see that,” Mishima said. “What are we going to do?”

  Jakes shook his head and ran his fingers through his thinning gray hair. “There’s not much we can do till he gets back on board.”

  “I don’t like it. I say we contact the Joint Chiefs.” Mishima stood up, and reached for the phone again.

  “No, wait. We’re only talking about a day or two. Let’s spend that time getting all the facts straight. Have your team put together a detailed report, and I’ll get my own speculations about the engines into readable form. I’ll contact Dr. Lindstrom and see if she’d like to contribute to the paperwork.”

  “All right, I can go along with that.”

  “If we’re going to go against Kemp, we may as well be as prepared as possible.”

  Takamura grinned weakly. “Pasteur said that ‘Fortune favors the prepared mind.’ I guess we don’t have any other choice.”

  STANDING ON the observation deck of the control tower, Ian Coopersmith could see the heavy air traffic at Vandenberg kiting and wheeling about the sky like gulls above their rookery. The flight from Heathrow was a blur in his memory, so consumed had his thoughts been with the whole Dragonstar mess. There was so much to clear up, so much business left undone, that he couldn’t take it any longer.

  Lying back in the quiet countryside of England hadn’t been the curative endeavor he had envisioned. In fact, it had been bloody awful. Not that he didn’t get along with the boys and Letty, but he quickly discovered that he was not the kind of person who could spend all his time with them. Ian Coopersmith was a man who needed to be in action, solving problems, completing tasks, heading up a mission.

  A mission.

  That was how he saw life: as a series of missions, of things that needed to be accomplished. And when he had returned to the warmth and security of his nest, he had found that he couldn’t live with the boredom of being so safe, so ... ordinary.

  That realization had taken time to settle in. But when it did, you beat cheeks to do something about it, right, lad? Ian allowed himself a small personal grin, and was thankful that he hadn’t totally lost his sense of humor.

  Of course the worst part of the whole bloody situation had been the fucking guilt.

  He had had no conception of the word until he fell into Leticia’s arms upon his triumphant return to Earth and suddenly realized that he couldn’t look her straight in the eye. He had assumed that he would be a perfect adult about the whole thing and plainly state what had gone on between Becky Thalberg and himself. Ian knew that the media had picked up on the “marooned in Paradise” theme and had played it like a squeaky violin in all the tabloids and news faxes and video programs, and he assumed that Letty would have been prepared for the worst.

  And yet, when it came time to discuss the whole affair with her, he had been locked up tighter than a fused bolt on a decompression chamber. All that emotion—the fear and the guilt—became bottled up in him like a vile mix of bad juices, juices that would eventually ferment and turn to the worst of all acids—the kind that ate you up from the inside out. Slowly, inexorably.

  The whole thing got barmy in a big hurry. Letty knew what he was thinking, and he knew what she was thinking, but neither of them would initiate the conversation that would have cleared the air.

  Until this week. Until Ian heard the quietly spoken rumors that there was something queer going on aboard the Dragonstar. It was then that he knew the charade, the solemn game he and his wife had been playing, needed to be ended. One night, an hour after they had gone to bed and presumably fallen asleep, Ian had spoken aloud into the darkness that he was sick of being eaten alive by his own feelings and trapped emotions. He announced that he was going back on active duty and that he would face his fears in the only manner he knew how: through the challenge of work that must be done.

  If he still had any conflicting feelings about Becky Thalberg, it was time to get them worked out. If he had any scores to settle with Phineas Kemp or any of those big beasties out in the floating jungle, well, then, now was the time to get them settled.

  “IASA Flight 616 now touching down on Pad Seven. Attention all personnel. Limo-jet 616 on Pad Seven.”

  The intercom announcement jarred him from his thoughts. Flight 616 was the one he was waiting for, and he directed his gaze leftward toward Pad Seven, where a black VTOL ship was slowly settling onto the octagonal landing platform. It looked like some kind of mutated insect as it came to rest. Ian continued to watch as a gangway oozed up from the platform like a multi-segmented worm and attached itself to the opening hatch. The moment he had been waiting for was now close at hand, and he mentally rehearsed the conversation. He walked across the lounge, heading for the set of double doors through which the occupants of Flight 616 would pass.

  Just relax, old boy, Nothing to get excited about. Just like old times, that’s all.

  The door swung open and a short, handsome man in dress blues with the insignia of a colonel stepped into the lounge. Phineas Kemp had a handsome, unlined face and bright blue eyes. It was a face that Ian knew extremely well. A crowd of underlings accompanied the colonel, and he was speaking to several of them as they entered the lounge. Consequently Kemp did not at first notice Ian.

  Suddenly Kemp looked away from his assistants and stared at the man standing in front of him in an IASA captain’s uniform. Displaying an expression of true surprise, Phineas Kemp stopped in his tracks as his jaw dropped open.

  “Jesus Christ! Ian, what’re you doing here?”

  Kemp extended his hand, and the two men shook hands. They stared at each other for an instant, and Ian felt a conflux of emotions course through him. He was simultaneously embarrassed, pleased, and angry. Kemp seemed to be playing up the moment for the benefit of the others in the group, and Ian felt as though he might be playing a part in a show.

  “Ian, I thought you were in England.”

  “Oh, yes ... well, I decided that I’d had enough of the good life, you know? Had to come back to the real world for a while.”


  Ian smiled, and everyone chuckled at the small joke. But then he leaned closer to Kemp and spoke in a softer voice. “Actually, Phineas, I need to speak to you in private, if you could arrange it.”

  Kemp looked at him with a solemn expression. “Now?”

  “Can you think of a better time? What’s your schedule?”

  Kemp checked his chronometer. “I’ve got a briefing in an hour, then I’m to meet Jack Neville for a shuttle flight up to Copernicus Base.”

  “All right, let’s go to your office. This shouldn’t take long.”

  Phineas Kemp considered the proposal for an instant, then nodded his head. Waving off his liaison officers, he told them he’d meet them in the briefing room. “All right, Ian, let’s go. This way.”

  The colonel led him down a long corridor, into an elevator crowded with other staff personnel, and then down another hall. They walked briskly, and neither man spoke. Ian felt awkward and overly officious as they passed AFB staff, and he suppressed the urge to let loose with some nervous laughter. He was afraid Kemp would think he was losing his grip.

  Finally they reached a small, Spartanly furnished office. Kemp took a seat behind a large, old-fashioned wood desk. “This is just a temporary office,” he said. “I’m not here that often.” He paused and smiled weakly. “Well, what’s up, Coopersmith? Did Becky Thalberg get in touch with you?”

  “Becky? No. Why?”

  “Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve been thinking about you lately, and I asked her to get in touch—for me, that is.”

  “Really? Well, no, I haven’t heard from her.”

  “And yet here you are. So what is going on, Captain?”

  “I’ve decided to come back aboard,” he said in a soft but forceful manner.

  Kemp grinned. “What makes you think I need you?” The question was asked as though in jest, but Ian detected the underlying hostility. He’s still pissed at me for planking his old girlfriend, that’s for certain.

  “You just said you wanted Becky to get in touch with me. Besides, I’ve got this ...” Reaching into his pocket, Ian produced a piece of E-mail. “This is a Ietter from Chris Alvarez, Joint Chiefs. It says I’m welcome back to active duty whenever I choose.”

  Kemp’s expression changed quickly to something near indifference. “Oh yes, I seem to remember them sending that off. They wondered why you never even deigned to reply.”

  “My silence was a reply in itself.”

  “Yes, I suppose it was.” Kemp stood up and walked to a window. He looked out as though interested in an incoming VTOL. “So you think you’re ready to get back to work, eh?”

  Ian nodded. “I think so. It’s been difficult to stay at home. I was never cut out to live like that, I’m afraid.”

  Kemp smiled. “Too sedate for you, eh?” He continued to stare out the window.

  “What’s that?” Ian could sense the slight sarcasm in Kemp’s voice.

  “Much rather be running through the jungle playing out some Edgar Rice Burroughs fantasies, right?” Kemp turned around and smiled.

  “Is that supposed to be a joke?” Ian was still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Listen, Colonel, this whole thing isn’t very easy for me. I’m trying to explain myself, and I’d appreciate your listening instead of badgering me.”

  “Badgering you? Captain, I wouldn’t think of such a thing.”

  Ian had always wondered what he would do if Kemp started in on him like this, and he could feel anger rising up in him like a hot column of vomit. It wasn’t going to take too much more before things got ugly.

  “Captain Coopersmith, I haven’t got all day for your little display,” Kemp said after Ian had failed to respond. “If you have something to say, let’s get on with it.”

  The smug bastard. Using his rank to play off our personal differences.

  “You won’t need all day, Colonel. Is it so hard to understand that I want to go back aboard the Dragonstar? “

  “I expected that. Isn’t there anything else?”

  “What else could there be?” Ian truly had lost Kemp’s train of thought. What the hell was he getting at?

  Kemp smiled. “Oh, come now, Captain. Don’t you want to be working closer to your new love?”

  Goddamn the bastard! Who does he think he is? “That’s uncalled for, Colonel.” Ian stood up and leaned across the massive desk, glaring at Kemp.

  “Touched a raw nerve, eh?”

  “It sounds like you’re the one with the raw nerve. What’s eating you, Colonel?”

  “You destroy a relationship between me and Rebecca Thalberg and you have the balls to ask me what’s eating me?” Kemp laughed derisively.

  “I didn’t destroy anything. Are you going to tell me that if you were in the same position you would have acted differently?”

  “That’s hard to say, Captain.”

  “Bullshit!” Ian cried, moving away from the desk, hoping to blow off some of the growing tension by pacing a bit. He turned quickly and faced Kemp again. “You would do the same thing under the same circumstances ... unless you’re a fucking wooden Indian! And if that’s the case, it’s no wonder Becky threw you over. Nobody wants to be involved with a goddamned automaton!”

  The words stung Colonel Kemp like a swarm of angry insects. “Take it easy, Captain,” was all that he could manage to say.

  Ian was bristling with pent-up rage now. He paced more vigorously about the tiny office, afraid to look at Kemp for what it might inspire in him. He drew a deep breath, tried to relax, then spoke in a hard, even voice. “You get me all frothed up, and then you tell me to take it easy. You’re a real character, Colonel. Now let’s get something straight, all right? I did not ‘snake’ your girlfriend, do you understand that? Whatever happened between us occurred out of necessity, out of the expediency and the existential aspects of the moment.”

  Kemp managed a small grin. “That’s quite a philosophical way of looking at plain old lust.”

  “It was part of what we needed to survive, Colonel. Since you weren’t there you’ll just have to take my word for it. Listen, I didn’t come here to fight with you, I came here to get back to work.”

  “I’m right in the middle of a documentary project. I could certainly use you up there.” Kemp’s mood seemed to be changing.

  “Phineas, we never were what you would call close friends, I realize that. But at least we always respected one another, and we always worked well together. It wasn’t until this whole mess with the Dragonstar that things became sticky, you know.”

  “I agree.” Kemp seemed to relax a bit as he changed position in his seat behind the wooden desk. “I suppose it is silly to carry grudges.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  Kemp shook his head slowly, appearing to let down all his defenses now. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I guess I don’t know how I feel about you, Ian. Or about Becky, or any of this.”

  “Does it really matter? Now that it’s all over?”

  “It’s never over,” Kemp said. “I thought you would have realized that.

  “Perhaps you’re right, but I just want you to understand that I want to get back to my work as soon as possible, and that it’s for me that I need to get back up there, Colonel, not Becky or anybody else. I heard that there’s some trouble, and maybe I can be of some use. I feel so useless down here. That’s the biggest problem.”

  Kemp looked at him sharply, his blue eyes sighting in on him. “What did you say about trouble? What have you heard?”

  Ian filled him in on the rumors he’d picked up from his friend, the news correspondent.

  “Goddamned reporters,” Kemp said. “Christ, they’ll dig up anybody’s bones, won’t they?”

  “Well,” Ian asked, “is there any truth to it? Has there been any trouble? A man killed is always news, especiall
y if he was eaten by a dinosaur.”

  Kemp shook his head slowly in total disgust. “I’ll be honest with you, Captain. I’m not really sure what’s going on up there. I’ve been so damned busy with this media event, this worldwide documentary thing, that I haven’t been keeping close enough tabs on what’s been happening on the Dragonstar.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Ian said, hoping he wasn’t going to touch any more raw nerves.

  “No, it’s not, but I just want this thing to come off flawlessly, and I guess maybe I’ve had my priorities wrong.”

  “Sounds like you need me up there as soon as possible. At least I could kind of substitute for you until the documentary’s over with and things are back to normal—whatever that might be.”

  Kemp nodded grimly. “That might be the best thing you could do for me right now. There isn’t a man alive, except for Jakes maybe, who knows that ship as well as you.”

  “While we’re on the subject, what did happen up there? A man was killed by a beastie, wasn’t he?”

  Kemp nodded. “Yes, he was out on a routine paleontological mission with Mikaela. She called me right after it happened, and I told her to keep a lid on the whole incident until we got this documentary finished.”

  “Jesus! Are you sure that was the right thing to do?”

  The colonel looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, now that I’m thinking about it more objectively, perhaps you’re right. Maybe it needed to be evaluated more fully. I don’t want anything dangerous to affect the broadcast.”

  “What exactly happened?”

  Clearing his throat, Kemp started talking in a professorial tone. “Mikaela stumbled upon a new species of dinosaur, or at least some kind of mutation. It looked like an Iguanodon, but it was carnivorous, and it seemed to have grown a set of meat-eating teeth and claws for its new career.”

  Ian coughed nervously. “It does sound odd. Does she have any ideas?”