DS02 Night of the Dragonstar

by David Bischoff

  How sad. How bloody, fucking sad that Kemp had never been able to rise above that way of seeing things. A popular journalist had recently written an article about Kemp and “his” Dragonstar, making many grand allusions to Ahab and Moby Dick, and Ian had always felt there was something wrong with that writer’s perceptions, but until now he had not been able to pin it down.

  No. Despite his problems, at least Captain Ahab had recognized the magnificence of the great white whale. At least he had been touched by the mystical power and significance of the mighty creature. Colonel Kemp, on the other hand, had never learned to respect the Dragonstar, by far his most formidable “opponent.”

  As with many proud figures of tragedy, Phineas Kemp had come to the magic pool of power and failed to look any deeper than the surface that reflected his own proud image.

  Jeez, that was good! thought Ian. He would have to try to remember to write that one down. Funny to find himself bordering on the profound when he should be preparing himself for battle. But Ian Coopersmith was a funny kind of man, wasn’t he?

  Looking down, he could see that they had passed the small mountain range and were heading toward an impossibly thick stretch of primordial forest: giant redwoods penciling into the air like monuments to the majesty of all trees, riotous fronds and ferns growing out of control, and a never-ending network of vines and tangling tubers. He shuddered as he recalled crawling and sliming through that world, and of the horrors that capered boldly within its shadows. The Illuminator was growing perceptibly dimmer, and he knew that darkness would be filtering down upon the land very soon. Hopefully he would reach the Hakarrh temple before nightfall.

  “Mayday! Mayday!” an unfamiliar voice sounded in his helmet phones. “All channels. Level One ... come in please!”

  Reaching out, Ian keyed in his radio. “This is Ian Coopersmith aboard tactical base ’thopter one-one- seven ... we copy.”

  “Captain Coopersmith, this is Bonnie Kerin at the paleo survey camp. We’ve just had a total power loss. Our force field is out, and we’re going to need some help fast.”

  “We copy that, Kerin. Please stand by.” Ian keyed out the radio mike and asked his pilot to give them their position relative to the survey camp.

  After a quick check of her instruments, Zabriskie gave him a fix and an ETA.

  “All right,” Ian said, returning to his transmission. “We’re about ten minutes from you. Please hang on and we’ll try to provide you with some assistance. What is your total population right now?”

  “Twenty-six, counting the guards.”

  “How many OTVs available?”

  The transmission faded for an instant, then came back strong. “Let’s see, we have three vehicles in camp right now.”

  “Try to squeeze as many of you into those things as possible,” Ian said. “Should be able to get six or seven into each one. That will give you some protection in case a hungry chap happens to wander in. Then have everybody else get down underneath the tread wheels, okay?”

  “We copy, Captain. Anything else we should know?”

  “Not that I can think of. But you can tell me, how are Dr. Lindstrom and Dr. Thalberg?”

  “They’re both okay, sir. Dr. Lindstrom is trying to get everybody organized. That’s why she had me call.”

  “Glad to hear it. All right, hang on. We’re on our way. Coopersmith out.”

  “Thank you, Captain. PSC standing by, and out.”

  Coopersmith looked over at Zabriskie. “Well, you heard the lady: ‘Follow that cab.’”

  Zabriskie forced herself to smile. She was a tall, big-boned redhead who looked like she could arm-wrestle any man in the pub, but she had a warm smile that Ian found disarming. “What do you think caused the power loss?” she asked.

  “Not sure. We’ve been registering some unidentified radiation pulses since the trouble started. Got some big EMP readings a little while ago—it must have knocked them out. They didn’t have the kind of shielding on their gear our tactical stuff has.”

  Zabriski nodded. “Thank God for agency regulations and specifications.”

  “For once, I would have to agree with a statement like that. Chalk one up for the bureaucrats.”

  His pilot chuckled as she began decelerating a bit, wrestling the controls through a thermal pocket. Ian keyed in the research lab’s frequency trying to hail Takamura’s people. There was a lot of interference, but it was possible to hear someone responding. Fiddling with the controls, Ian was able to pull them in.

  “Research lab here, come in.”

  “Takamura, is that you? This is Captain Coopersmith.”

  “Yes, Captain, we’ve been expecting you.”

  “I’m going to be delayed.” Ian gave the scientist a quick rundown on the problems at the paleo survey camp. “What’s your status there?”

  “The lab and quarters have been evacuated. Everybody is down by the temple entrance. We’ve got more than a hundred people building some hasty barricades.”

  “How about the Saurians?”

  “Can’t tell,” Takamura said. “We stopped the bunch of warriors who were trying to storm the steps. We can see big crowds of them milling around in the streets, but they don’t seem to be organized into doing anything. This must be very confusing and disorienting to most of them.”

  “I would say so, Doctor.” Ian paused. “Listen, there was one of them I got to know quite well, named Thesaurus. You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you? He was one of their big names.”

  “Oh, yes.” Takamura said. “I know him quite well. But I couldn’t tell you what became of him. Too much going on, you know.”

  Ian swallowed hard, hoping that the old Saurian had somehow escaped all the mayhem. “Okay, thanks, Doctor. Try to hold your position as long as possible, and tell Colonel Kemp why we’re not going to make it for a while yet. Coopersmith out.”

  Takamura signed off. Ian could see that they were approaching the large meadow that housed the survey camp. Nearby was a hatch and corridor system that led to an airlock and the outer hull. It was very near where Ian and Becky and the first exploratory mission had entered the Dragonstar.

  So much had happened since then. Everyone’s lives had changed so drastically.

  “Okay, Captain, here we are,” Zabriskie announced.

  “Take it down slowly,” Ian said. He radioed his two sharpshooters in the underbelly of the ’thopter, telling them to keep their eyes open for any hungry beasties, and unholstered his own sidearm, flipping off the safety.

  Three Omni Terrain Vehicles were arranged in a vaguely triangular configuration almost directly below them. The twilight had grown very thick, and it seemed to be growing darker the closer they drew to the ground.

  “Searchlamps,” Ian ordered.

  Zabriskie touched a pad, and the OTVs were washed in blue-white harshness. The ’thopter kited about, touching down very close to them.

  Jumping down from the cab, Ian told his pilot to be ready to lift off at an instant, and directed his two sharpshooters to flank the area as best they could. Looking to the OTV s, he could see the crowd of faces behind the bubble domes staring out at him. One of the vehicles hatches swung open, and Becky Thalberg appeared. She came running toward him and threw her arms around him.

  “Oh, Ian! You don’t know how glad I am to see you. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Ian was amazed to realize how good she felt in his arms. Despite the humid air of the preserve, the warmth of her body pressed against his was a welcome sensation. Automatically he rooted through her long dark hair and kissed her neck. She smelled enticing, exciting.

  “I’m glad to see you too, Becky.”

  She drew back from him, a bit embarrassed. “Yes, I can see that.”

  Mikaela Lindstrom and Dr. Penovich appeared by Ian’s side, and the fleeting moment was lost. “Good t
o see you, Captain Coopersmith,” Mikaela said. “Let me fill you in on what’s happening. We’ve got six people in each of the OTVs. It’s tight, but we can make it.”

  “Make it to where?” Ian asked.

  Mikaela looked at him with a startled expression. “I don’t know,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Neither had I,” Ian said. “But I think it’s time we did.”

  Briefly, Ian explained to them the position of the survivors at the Hakarrh temple, and also the people in the downed cargo ’thopter who were stranded in the Saurian ruins.

  “It seems to me that the people in the ruins are the safest,” Becky said. “I should know, I’ve been there.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Ian said. “I think we should concentrate on getting your party out of this unprotected area and then work on Colonel Kemp’s people. The big problem is that I don’t have room for more than two passengers at a time, and even then it’s a tight squeeze in the belly compartment.”

  Becky considered the problem for a moment. “Why don’t we take the OTVs overland to the ruins? We could be safe there, and you could use the ’thopter to transport the rest of us two or three at a time.”

  “You’re right,” Ian said. “There’s no way we could get the OTV s across the mountain range and back to tactical base HQ-even though their power wasn’t affected by the EMP phenomena.”

  “And the ruins are more strategically located for the group at the Hakarrh temple. It’s much closer than trying to evacuate everybody to a spot farther into the preserve,” Becky said.

  “I think she’s got it,” Mikaela said. “I can take the three OTVs overland to the ruins. It will be slow going, but we can make it.”

  Ian considered his options and realized he had none at all. What Becky said made sense. For the time being, setting up a temporary base of operations in the Saurian ruins would probably be their best tactic—at least until Copernicus Base could get some help in to them. “All right, that sounds reasonable. Let’s get straight on who’s going now and who will be waiting around for cab rides,” he said.

  Several minutes passed as the assignments were worked out. Mikaela climbed into the lead OTV and headed toward the ruins with seventeen others. That left eight behind, including Becky (who had insisted on remaining with Ian), plus Ian and his two sharpshooters.

  Zabriskie took two paleontologists into the equipment bay of the ’thopter along with one of the survey camp guards at shotgun. Ian reminded her to contact Sergeant Kinsey at the tactical base headquarters and tell him of the change in plans. It was always a good idea to keep everybody abreast of what was happening. The ’thopter lifted off clumsily and smudged out into the pitch-black artificial night. That left Ian, Becky, his two gunners, and four scientists. They would have to tough it out until the ’thopter could get back for the next run ... and the next.

  As the whine and whoomp of the ’thopter echoed away and were swallowed up by the dense foliage of the surrounding jungle, Ian became of aware of how deathly still it had suddenly become. With a rush of memory, he was brought back to his last tour on board the Dragonstar, and the same sickening feeling of being cut off in the darkness of the Mesozoic heartland now enfolded him like the leathery wings of a great Pteranodon.

  “All right,” he said, unhooking an electric torch from his belt and flicking it on. “Let’s take what cover we can in the domes. Murphy, you and Jalecki set up some flanking cover, and I’ll cover the third point. Come on, let’s get moving.”

  Everyone closed ranks and moved toward the closest geodesic dome, which had been used as a maintenance hangar for the OTVs. As the biologists filed inside and the sharpshooters took up positions on each side of the structure, Becky stopped and held on to Ian’s arm.

  “I’d like to stay out here with you, if you don’t mind.”

  Ian’s first impulse was to say something authoritarian and protective, but something deeper inside cut off that almost automatic response. He recalled vividly how this woman had trekked through this hellish place with him and never batted an eye. There was no way he could pull that bullshit on her now. Besides, he could certainly use the company.

  “All right,” he said. “That would be nice.”

  As he whispered the words, there was a fierce rustling in the underbrush beyond the perimeter of the camp, and a plaintive, bestial cry rose up to crack the sky.

  * * *

  Mishima Takamura moved quickly from the elevator that opened onto the temple access corridor. He was the last to leave the research lab in the alien crew section, and his paranoia quotient was high. During the entire descent, he kept imagining that the device would suddenly halt in its shaft and trap him in its stifling smallness. He had never been a big fan of tight spaces, but he had forced himself to conquer his fears for his once-in-a-lifetime chance to go into space.

  But the reason for his paranoia went far beyond a case of claustrophobia.

  The alien ship was definitely coming to life. While he carried some vital instruments out of the lab, placing them on the power cart he now guided down the empty corridor, he could not help but notice how different things were in the alien section. Displays, consoles and devices that had been dark, silent, and dormant since their arrival were suddenly being activated.

  But what was worse, what was more bizarre, was the way it was all happening with a total disregard for the humans on board. The ship seemed to be going about its preordained tasks as though there were no intruders present.

  What did it mean? What was happening on board the Dragonstar? Mishima was convinced that all the strange events were connected, that everything pointed toward some larger event. He had his own ideas as to what might be going on but just the thought of it made him uneasy, and in a most unscientific manner he forced himself not to think about it.

  The final threshold, beyond which lay the Saurian temple, yawned ahead of him, and Mishima quickened his pace. The sooner he was free of the restrictive corridors and the automated alien machinery, the better he would feel. The cart glided along silently ahead of him as he cleared the doorway. He paused to take a breath, then moved through the temple to the outside.

  Using whatever debris and materials they could find, the survivors had thrown up barricades along the top of the steps leading to the temple. It reminded Mishima of the Saurians building their great wall. There was an irony there somewhere, but he was too tired to search for it.

  He could see Phineas Kemp walking along the front line of defense, the pretty young journalist in tow, pausing to talk to some of the IASA staffers now and then, but primarily playing up the role of a field marshal inspecting his troops.

  The scene was almost laughable, and it demonstrated to Mishima what a complete asshole the colonel was. There was something about Kemp that Mishima didn’t like. He hadn’t respected the man from the first moment they’d met.

  Pushing the cart of equipment over to a group of his assistants, he helped them unload and connect up the gear. The auxiliary generators would always be useful, but right now they would get the monitoring equipment running. He had not gotten far along in the setup when he was interrupted by none other than Kemp himself.

  “What’s going on here, Doctor?” the colonel asked in a noncommittal tone of voice.

  Mishima looked up at Kemp and made an effort to be cordial. There was no sense in causing a scene in front of everyone. “We were able to get out some of our monitoring equipment, and I’d like to know why we haven’t been contacted by Copernicus Base.”

  Kemp smiled ingenuously. “So would I, Doctor. How do you propose to find out?”

  “I’m going to try to activate it using short wave equipment. We had an EMP effect that wiped out the portable gear, but this stuff from the lab was apparently shielded by being in the alien crew section.” Mishima didn’t feel like explaining himself and his techniques to a man like Ke
mp. He considered ways to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

  One of his assistants came to his side. “Doctor, I’ve got something on the screen. “

  Without another word, Mishima turned away, following the woman to a portable monitor that had been set up near the end of the barricade where it reached the temple wall. “What is it?” Mishima asked, looking at a blurry image on the screen.

  “It’s a view of the hull from one of the cameras near the docking bay. It’s attached to a piece of the hull’s superstructure,” the lab technician said. “We were able to activate it with the short-wave application. But there’s something causing an almost impossible level of interference outside on the hull.”

  “Any idea what’s causing it?” asked Mishima.

  “Not really.”

  Phineas Kemp, who had followed Mishima, looked at the screen with an intense expression on his face. “Wait a minute. If that’s the docking bay, then where the hell is it?”

  “What?” Mishima asked, looking more closely at the screen. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the docking bay’s not there. It’s gone.”

  Kemp said. “And where’re all the ships we had out there? Weren’t there two lunar shuttles on their way out? Where the hell are they?”

  The colonel had a good point, Mishima admitted. He looked pointedly at his assistant. “Are you sure you have the right camera input?”

  “No question about it, Doctor.”

  Something was definitely wrong out there. The docking bay had been a specially constructed rig built so that IASA ships could arrive and depart the Dragonstar with a minimum of difficulty. It had been attached by powerful electromagnets that would have prevented the docking assembly from being blown off the hull even by high explosives.

  And now it seemed as though the docking bay had simply vanished.

  “It looks to me like we’re cut off from the outside of the ship,” Kemp said. “And we’ve received more bad news from the tactical command.”

  Briefly, Kemp explained to Mishima and his assistants the problems and rescue operations at the survey camp and the Saurian ruins. “It seems to me,” he said, “that we basically have two options, especially if we can expect no immediate help from the outside. One, we can stay here and fight a war of attrition with the Saurians if they choose to attack us. Or two, we can take off through the Mesozoic preserve and join up with everyone else in the ruins.”