DS02 Night of the Dragonstar

by David Bischoff

  “Yes, Sasha?” She must regain her composure quickly.

  “Cancel the CA coordinates. We must evacuate the area right away.” Sergei’s voice had an odd quality to it, a tone she had never heard before.

  “Thrusters on full,” she said, keying in the touchpad.

  Outside the viewing port, the expanse of the Dragonstar suddenly slid off to starboard as the shuttle reoriented itself. “Prepare for hi-gee acceleration.”

  Sergei checked his screens as he monitored the radiation field that danced across the hull of the alien vessel. A piece of the stasis field was reaching slowly up toward them. Oddly, Sergei remained calm as the green death ascended. He thought the formation reminded him of the tentacle of a giant squid reaching out for its prey. Svetlana keyed in the main thrusters and the ship accelerated, but it was not quick enough. Suddenly the cabin was filled with a ghostly green light, and for an instant the scene was frozen, etched on the retinas of the two pilots like tintype photographs. This was followed by a surge of intense heat as the molecular bonding of the ship started to break down. The headphones crackled with a warning from Copernicus Base, but Svetlana Muranova and Sergei Andruschenko never heard it.

  The stasis field had reached their hull.

  * * *

  “Fuck your mother!” cried Dr. Gregor Kolenkhov as he turned away from the telescopic view on his monitor. He had just watched the second of his two shuttles get zapped by the stasis field that had come up around the hull of the Dragonstar. Four pilots and forty troops, all gone in a flash. Damnable shit!

  He pounded his meaty fist against the console top, unable to release the feelings of frustration. He could feel the gaze of Major Altermann upon his back, and the awkward silence in the room was almost a palpable thing in itself. Slowly he turned back to his communications officer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It was a nervous, meaningless gesture, but it somehow made him feel more at ease.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he asked the major rhetorically. “What else could go wrong?”

  “I don’t think you really want to know, do you?” the major asked. “Oh-oh, there’s a Level One coming in for you.”

  “Put it through,” Gregor said, flicking on his throat mike. “Kolenkhov here.”

  “Gregor, this is Rheinhardt. We’re in deep shit, son.”

  “I know. I’ve been watching. Forty-four people gone just like snapping your fingers.”

  “It’s not getting any better. I’ve pulled back all craft from the area, but I’m getting reports that the docking bay has been jettisoned from the hull, and the outrigger impulse engines have also been cut loose.”

  “What? By who?”

  Oscar Rheinhardt snorted indignantly. “That’s the rub, man. By nobody. From what we’ve been able to observe, it’s being done without any human intervention. We can’t even get close to the hull of that big son of a bitch now.”

  “But what about everybody inside? What’s happening in there?”

  “That’s the worst part,” Oscar said sadly. “We don’t know.”

  * * *

  Something very strange was going on, thought Ian Coopersmith as he tried to coordinate everything at the tactical base headquarters.

  Just a moment after breaking the connection with Colonel Kemp, there had been an immense power surge that had caused all the equipment to crackle, brighten, pulse, scream, or vibrate—depending on the nature of the beast. His instruments indicated that this had been caused by an unidentified EMP—an electromagnetic pulse—of tremendous power. Only because of the heavy shielding at his installation did the pulse not knock down all base functions.

  “Are we still on line, Sergeant?” Ian asked his aide quickly.

  Kinsey checked several banks of readouts, then nodded. “Affirmative, Captain. What the hell was that?”

  “I don’t know, but I plan to find out.” Ian paused, considering his options. He turned back to Sergeant Kinsey. “Has that ornithopter left yet?”

  “Which one, sir?”

  Ian chuckled without humor. “The only one we have intact, for God’s sake. Wake up, Sergeant.”

  “Oh, right, Captain. Let me check.” Kinsey patched in a line to the landing pad, and a monitor showed the birdlike craft huddling down while robot-controlled refueling lines were retracting from its tanks. “She’s just about ready to go, Captain.”

  Keying in his throat mike, Ian called the ’thopter pilot. “Zabriskie, this is Captain Coopersmith, do you copy?”

  “I read you, Captain,” said the pleasant female voice. “What can I do for you?”

  “You can stay right where you are until I get there. I’m coming with you.”

  The speakers cracked with some interference. “Change of plans, Captain?”

  “Yes, you could say that. Hang on, Zabriskie, I’ll be right over.”

  “Okay, Captain. Zabriskie out.”

  As Ian stepped toward the door, another Priority One call came through. Sergeant Kinsey patch him in. “Coopersmith here.”

  “Captain, this is Dr. Mishima Takamura. I’m at the research team lab.” The man’s voice seemed strained and tinged with fear.

  “I copy, Doctor. What’s up?”

  “We’ve got some big problems here, Captain. We were bringing in all the survivors from the Saurian riot when everything started happening. We just had a serious EMP phenomenon.”

  “So did we,” Ian said. “But our shielding seemed to have handled it. What about you?”

  Takamura cleared his throat. “I’m not sure. Our instruments seem to be operating, but our systems are getting overridden by some other command systems. It’s as though something is taking control of our equipment. What’s worse is that the original alien equipment—the stuff that’s been dead since we’ve been here—is starting to come to life.”

  “What?” Ian said, feeling a lump form in his throat. “That’s right. Some of the other sections down here in the alien end are sealing themselves off. Colonel Kemp is ordering us to evacuate the lab and the alien crew section altogether. In fact, he’s the one who wanted me to contact you.”

  “Where’s Kemp now?”

  “Down at the temple entrance. He’s trying to set up some kind of barricades and defenses in case the Saurians decide to come up the steps. We’re also trying to salvage as much equipment as possible, but we need some help. There’s no telling how long we have before we lose control completely.”

  “All right, Doctor, tell the Colonel I’m on my way.” Ian paused for a moment. “And if you ask me, I think you should all get out of the alien end of this thing ASAP. It sounds like this ship has a mind of its own, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I hate to agree with you, but my answer is yes.”

  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather take my chances with the Saurians and the dinosaurs than the alien technology. I think Kemp has the right idea.”

  “We’ll be waiting for you, Captain.”

  “That’s a roger. Coopersmith out.”

  Flipping off his throat mike, Ian turned back to Sergeant Kinsey. “What’s the word from Copernicus? Have you been able to get through yet?”

  “Negative, Captain. Whatever’s going on, we’ve lost all ship-to-ship status. We’re blind and deaf now. Totally isolated.”

  “All right, Kinsey. Keep trying to raise somebody. I sure would like to find out what happened to those shuttles they were sending.”

  “Maybe they couldn’t make it, sir. Maybe whatever it is that’s keeping signals from getting out is keeping their ships from getting in.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking along those lines myself. Well, carry on, Kinsey.”

  “Totally isolated” sounded very ominous. Something crazy was going on. And it was obvious that this damn ship never had been dead, but only sleeping. Just waiting for the right dummie
s like us to blunder inside.

  Ian grinned ironically as he signaled to Kinsey and left the communications bunker. Walking across the open area between the geodesic domes, he had the thought that somebody had finally built a better mousetrap.

  * * *

  “I’m all right, damn it. How many times do I have to tell you people that?”

  Mikaela Lindstrom didn’t like to raise her voice, much less scream and rant and rave, but it seemed like the only way she was going to get any attention.

  When the ornithopter brought her back to the survey camp, she was admittedly shaken up, and the crowd of assistants that swarmed all over her when she was carried down from the aircraft seemed to make her return even more dramatic than necessary. Before she could say anything, she had been overwhelmed by a chorus of voices offering advice and help and badgering her with ridiculous questions.

  Suddenly, Rebecca Thalberg appeared on the scene and directed the mob to swoosh Mikaela off to sick bay.

  And although Mikaela appreciated the attention she was getting from her staff and from Becky herself, she kept telling everybody that she really didn’t need to be sedated, that she really didn’t need to be stretched out in a bed. And when things had finally gotten to be too much, she had started screaming at all the would-be do-gooders.

  Now they all stood there staring at her in shock and disbelief—Dr. Penovich and all their assistants, and of course Becky Thalberg herself.

  “I think we get the message, Mikaela,” Becky said with a tentative smile on her face.

  “All right.” Mikaela licked her lips nervously. “I’m sorry for yelling like that, but I just didn’t want everyone making such a fuss over me. I’m a big girl now, right?”

  “Everybody was just worried, that’s all,” said Dr. Penovich.

  “I understand that,” she said, sliding off the hospital bed and facing the small assembly. “But I assure you I’m okay. Now, why don’t you all get back to your posts. I’m sure we’re going to be needed to help out in some way.”

  As everyone started reluctantly filing from the standard white room, Becky remained, waiting until everyone had left before speaking. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I guess I overreacted. But I’ll tell you, when they hauled you out of that ’thopter, you looked terrible.”

  They both laughed, relieving some of the tension. Mikaela was anxious to know what had been going on since she’d been confined to sick bay. Becky briefly recounted what little they had been able to discover by keeping in touch with Ian Coopersmith at the tactical base headquarters.

  “I’m so glad so many were able to get to safety,” Mikaela said. “God, it was so horrible to be just hovering over that mess and not be able to do anything.”

  “You were able to give them some air cover,” Becky said.

  “That was thanks to Ginny Zabriskie. She’s a fine pilot, I’ll tell you. And to be honest, I was doing my best to just stay on the radio.” Mikaela paused to lick her lips again. She was getting extremely thirsty and moved to the sink to get a cup of water. “I keep seeing that crazy old man getting torn to pieces—that’s the worst part of it. I can’t get it out of my head.”

  “You and two billion other people,” Becky said. “I never liked Neville, but I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

  “Phineas simply adored old Neville. He must be extremely upset.”

  Becky smiled. “I thought you’d have noticed by now that Phineas doesn’t get very upset about anything.”

  Mikaela wondered: Did she detect some hostility beneath Becky’s warm tone of voice? It was possible that the woman still felt some real attachment to Phineas. Well, she thought, now was not the time to start trying to analyze her man’s ex-lover. Talk about doing crazy things ...

  “Maybe you’re right, Becky.” She tried to ease out of the conversation.

  That’s when the lights went out.

  “Oh-oh,” Becky said. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. Come on.” Knowing the contours of the base as well as anyone, Mikaela reached out and took Becky’s hand. It was surprising how absolutely dark it was within the geodesic dome, even though perhaps another hour of daylight still remained outside.

  With Becky trailing along, she worked their way out of sick bay and down a connecting tube that led to the main laboratory. As they drew closer, Mikaela could hear the excited voices of her staff. “How could this happen?” she asked her companion as they moved along.

  “I don’t know. You’re asking the wrong person about technical stuff. I wish Ian were here. He could tell you in a second.”

  When they reached the main lab, Mikaela could see that several inventive assistants had fired up bunsen burners to provide a kind of eerie gaslight atmosphere to the lab.

  “I think we should all make our way outside,” Mikaela said, “and see if we can get this straightened out.”

  Without a word of protest, the small assemblage of scientists headed toward the outer door, which opened into a small courtyard flanked on all four sides by fairly large buildings, which the staff had come to call the quad. Opposite the main lab, across the quad, lay the physical plant, which housed the communications hut, and the generators for all their electrical needs. As Mikaela reached the quad, she could see two IASA staffers running toward them. She recognized the taller man as Chris George, the communications officer. The shorter one, a woman named Donna Sprinkle, was a member of the tactical unit assigned to protect the survey camp. Corporal Sprinkle was carrying an automatic rifle.

  “What’s the problem, Corporal?” Mikaela asked as the pair stopped in front of them.

  “I don’t know, Dr. Lindstrom. Power’s just gone.” Suddenly Mikaela understood. Why hadn’t she realized it till now? “Oh no,” she said softly, in an almost fearful whisper. “The force field.”

  “That’s right,” the tactical soldier said. “And without it, we’re sitting ducks.”

  Mikaela looked up at the darkening Illuminator and the growing dusk that saturated the vegetation with lush shades of green.

  Darkness was feeding time.

  THE ORNITHOPTER lifted off its pad with a rocking, awkward, goony-bird kind of motion, which was typical of all aircraft of its type. Despite his inertia harness, Ian Coopersmith was tossed about in the shotgun seat like a sack of potatoes. He had never grown accustomed to being a passenger in a ’thopter, much preferring to pilot the aircraft himself, even though rank let him off the hook. He was a good pilot, and he trusted his own instincts better than anyone’s in the weird wind currents that existed within the closed cylinder of the Dragonstar.

  Because of temperature gradients in the atmosphere of the sealed environment, and because the entire cylinder was rotating on its longitudinal axis, some very bizarre weather conditions were observed. It was not uncommon to encounter thermal pockets and wind vortices of such violent nature that conventional aircraft would be ripped apart by the turbulence.

  It was discovered very quickly when exploring the Dragonstar that the birdlike ornithopter was the only aircraft that could safely maneuver within the immense, spinning environment. Knowing all this, however, did not make Ian feel any better about the flight. Zabriskie was constantly wrestling with the cybernetic controls, but she seemed to be an expert at it.

  Looking down, Ian studied the terrain of the Mesozoic preserve, remembering what it had been like when he and Becky had been so rudely thrust into its Darwinian realities. It seemed so long ago, and yet it hadn’t been very long at all. The ’thopter passed over a swampy section that gradually filled a flood plain and formed a small lake. Long-necked Brontosaurus waded in water that only covered them halfway up their flanks. They were such ponderous beasts, such easy prey for carnivores, that they had learned to spend much of their time in the water, feeding on bulbous water plants and tubers that grew in the muddy bottoms.

  It was odd, thou
ght Ian, that the meat eaters shied away from the water as they did. If those boys had ever learned to swim, everybody else would have had some real problems on their hands—or should he say claws?

  The lake passed beneath them, giving way to a vast plain that had been given the name of the Mordor Plateau. It was a fairly flat region with sparser vegetation and some unusual rock formations. The plateau rose gradually above sea level, giving way to a range of small but spectacularly sculpted mountains. It was incredible to think that the entire environment had been artificially created by a race of beings whose technology must be light-years beyond humankind’s understanding. To build an artificial world like the interior of the Dragonstar was a mind-boggling conception. To actually see it, and realize what had been accomplished, was a numbing experience—the mind refused to comprehend what the eyes recorded; it refused to accept that such artifice could be possible.

  No, thought Ian, the hard truth of the Dragonstar only came to be accepted very gradually—in small, subtle ways, until there came the day when you fully understood the enormity of the project that was the Dragonstar. It was only then, thought Ian, that a person could truly understand humility.

  As the ’thopter churned and dipped violently, it occurred to Ian that perhaps he had hit upon Phineas Kemp’s biggest problem: the man had never allowed himself to come to grips with the reality of the alien vessel. Kemp had never taken the time to perceive the Dragonstar for what it was—a technological and biological masterpiece which so far dwarfed the dreams and accomplishments of the human race that it was only laughable.

  No, to Phineas Kemp the Dragonstar was just another bloody obstacle in his quest for recognition. The ship was just one more thing in Kemp’s life for him to master or conquer.