DS02 Night of the Dragonstar

by David Bischoff

  “I’m taking it in!” he yelled to Murphy. “Get ready to jump!”

  “Jump? Are you crazy?”

  “Jumping is safer than riding it home,” Ian cried. The controls were stiffening up as the engine knocked and coughed out its last few bursts of power.

  The flight path of the ’thopter tightened into more of a dive than a glide, and Ian knew it was going to be a rough landing. He looked over at Murphy, who was hanging on to the frame of the cabin with a white-knuckled grip.

  “Get ready to jump,” Ian cried. “Screw you!”

  “Now! Get out of here now!” Ian said.

  Murphy ignored him, and Ian did the only thing possible in the situation. Grabbing a handle above his head, Ian vaulted up out of his seat with a gymnastic move and kicked Murphy across the chest with both feet. It was a quick maneuver which sent the trooper sprawling back and out of the ship less than twenty meters from impact.

  The move gave Ian just enough time to get back into his seat and wrestle with the controls for one last course change—the last one he would ever need.

  * * *

  Becky may have screamed when she saw the body falling from the diving ’thopter. She couldn’t remember. The helmeted figure plunged spread-eagled into a copse of ferns and cycads just within the Barrier and disappeared from view. In the next instant, the ornithopter, tilting crazily, flapping limply at the air like a wounded bird, wheeled downward and cut a sharp angle away from the trees, heading straight for the rift in the Barrier wall and the nightmare creature that now approached it.

  Becky held her breath as she watched the ornithopter rush headlong into the Tyrannosaurus. The impact of the crash shattered the command cabin like an exploding eggshell, flinging Ian through the air like a rag doll. The force of the crash against the great beast’s body slammed it backward with incredible force. And the whirling, twisted airfoils sliced through its neck as cleanly as the blade of a guillotine.

  For a single, frozen moment, the head of the Rex remained stable. Then a fountain of bright blood erupted from the incision in its neck. It tottered backward, a dying scream gurgling weakly in its throat as the great head slid slowly from the neck. It dangled by a few untouched cords of sinew and shredded flesh as the beast collapsed to the earth.

  For an instant the scene remained deathly quiet, before the assembly of Saurian warriors and agrarians erupted into a chorus of barks and hisses and tail thumping. The scene had been so spectacular, so unbelievable, that it seemed fixed in time like a photograph in Becky’s mind. She had been stunned by the visual impact of the event, and the full realization of what she had seen was only now beginning to sink in.

  “My God,” someone said in a soft whisper.

  Ian, thought Becky, Ian had been thrown clear!

  Suddenly she was running toward the crash, and it was as though her movement was a signal for everyone else. Phineas and the others moved quickly behind her, and the hordes of Saurians—warriors, agrarians, even the philosopher-priests—closed ranks and ran toward the site of the crash. Becky ran ahead of the pack, and she could see that the felled Tyrannosaurus, wrapped in the twisted wreckage of the ornithopter, formed an effective barricade against the break in the Barrier. Nothing else would be able to get through—at least for quite some time.

  Passing the crash site, she looked toward the area where Ian had been thrown—a slapdash of crude scaffolding which the Saurians had been using to repair the Barrier. Part of the primitive latticework of planks and supports had collapsed, and it was in the midst of this debris that she saw him.

  Lying on his back, with his head twisted at a terrible angle, Ian Coopersmith stared up past the ramparts, beyond the edge of the Barrier. Thick rivulets of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, his nose, and ears. He did not move; his eyes did not blink.

  She rushed to his side, crying out his name over and over, trying to fight back the tears, trying to ignore the frantic pounding in her breast. Easing herself down next to him, careful not to collapse any more of the scaffolding, Becky reached out and took his hand in hers. The color was fading from his face; his eyes were glazing over.

  “Ian, can you hear me? Oh God, Ian, why did you do it?”

  Although he did not reply, his eyes blinked and he smiled a small wry smile.

  Becky quickly assessed the situation, and she knew he was in very bad shape, with a concussion and probably a skull fracture, internal hemorrhaging, back injuries that probably included shattered vertebrae in the neck. Ian Coopersmith was going to die.

  The thought ate through her like a terrible acid. She could feel the tears welling up, burning the corners of her eyes. “Oh, Ian. Why?”

  With what seemed like a great effort, he turned his head, slowly and with obvious pain, until he was facing her directly. His lips trembled as he fought to form the words.

  “Becky ...”

  “Yes?” Just hearing his voice made her cry harder. Reaching out, Ian touched her arm and tried to squeeze it, but there was no strength left in him. Becky could hear the sounds of a great crowd encircling them, but she ignored their presence, and thankfully no one approached. She felt that she needed a few moments alone with him.

  “Becky ... I must talk,” he said, his voice a gurgling, coarse rattle.

  “No, Ian, save your strength.”

  Another forced smiled. “For what? You’re a doctor, my dear. I shouldn’t have to tell you what’s in store for me.”

  “Ian, please, don’t talk like that.”

  “Becky ... I know this is not a very good time to tell you this ... but I’m afraid it’s my last chance.”

  She watched him as he forced the words from his lips. His breathing had become ragged, and the hemorrhaging had increased. Her image of him had always been one of strength and competence and common sense, and it hurt so bad to see him lying helpless before her. She knew there was nothing she could do for him, and she felt cheated that she’d never get the chance.

  “Why did you do it, Ian?” Becky fought back the tears, but they surged down her face, stinging her cheeks.

  “Forget that. It had to be done.” He coughed up some blood, which momentarily choked him, then his breathing evened out a bit.

  Becky stroked his hair and kissed his damp forehead.

  “Becky, I must tell you this one thing.” He coughed once, then continued. “Ever since the first, I think I’ve loved you, but I could never say it to you, or even ... even say it to myself.”

  “Ian, it’s all right. I understand,” Becky couldn’t control her tears any longer. They rolled off her face to spatter on the side of his cheek, mingling with his blood.

  “I feel better now that it’s out,” he said with great effort. “Hold me, Becky.”

  “Oh, Ian,” she said, shifting to lie gently across his chest. “Oh Ian, I’ve loved you too. I guess I was too dumb to admit it too.”

  He did not reply. She sensed a subtle change, a difference that couldn’t be explained. “Ian?” she whispered softly, suddenly afraid to pull back from him, afraid to look at him. “Ian?”

  Oh, no! Not yet, she thought. Please, not yet!

  But when she forced herself to look at him, to check for a carotid pulse at the base of his neck, she knew what she would find. His eyes were still open, and there was a slight smile in the corners of his mouth—and he was dead.

  THEY FOUND MURPHY hanging unconscious in the fronds of a giant fern. When he woke up, he told them that Ian had kicked him out of the cabin, thereby saving his life. It was just one more little thing that would help to memorialize Coopersmith as a hero, thought Phineas Kemp. The air was filled with the sounds of urgent industry as he supervised the rebuilding of the Barrier, along with several of Takamura’s staff and a group of the Saurian priests. Phineas was very busy, but he couldn’t seem to get Ian’s death out of his mind—nor Becky’s tearful reaction to
it all.

  After Coopersmith had died, there had been a large commotion among the Saurians—especially the warriors and the agrarians. It seemed that Coopersmith’s sacrificial gesture had done more than merely block the Barrier and kill the invading beast. Far more importantly, Ian’s unselfish martyrdom had demonstrated to the Saurians that humans could be trusted after all.

  The concept of giving one’s life for the benefit of others, however, was a very alien one for the Saurian warriors. Apparently it was an act that had never occurred to them as a way of solving a problem. Phineas had watched Thesaurus spend a long session explaining the concept and the inherent nobility of the act to a large assemblage of warriors. The speech seemed to impress them, because they all jumped up at its conclusion and began barking and hissing and slamming the butts of their weapons against their chests. It was a fantastic display of enthusiasm and support, and he wished that Ian could have seen what reptilian emotions he had stirred up.

  Considering all the problems still facing them, Phineas thought calmly, things were shaping up a little better. If work continued at the present rate, the repairs to the Barrier would be completed within twenty-four hours. With IASA troopers and their automatic weapons patrolling the ramparts, there would be no more threats from the dinosaurs, and the Saurian preserve would be a safe place to base their operations.

  “Good evening, Colonel,” said the voice of Mishima Takamura.

  Turning around, Phineas looked at the young scientist. “Everybody checked in yet?” he asked expectantly.

  Mishima smiled and nodded. “The last OTV is rolling in now.”

  Phineas shook his head in mock exhaustion. “Good. At least we’ve finally pulled everybody together.”

  “Yes,” Takamura said. “But I keep wondering what we’re going to do now.”

  “That’s a good question, but I’m not going to worry about it for now. First things first. I think we should call for a meeting and address our problems to the group. Don’t you agree?”

  Takamura took a seat along the railing of the scaffolding, looked down over the construction that was furiously going on below them. “Hell, yes! Everybody’s got a right to know what’s going on around here.” He looked at Phineas with a stern, serious expression that made him appear older than his years. “I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel very uneasy looking everybody in the face and not telling them what I know. I feel like I’m lying to them by keeping quiet.”

  Phineas nodded. “I know what you mean. We’ve got to tell them soon.”

  “I’ll talk to Thesaurus,” Mishima said, “and see if we can use one of the rooms in their nursery buildings. I t should be big enough to fit all of us, don’t you think?”

  Phineas shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen any of their nurseries.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Takamura said. “You haven’t spent much time around the Saurians, have you?”

  “Is that supposed to be a cutting remark, Doctor? I thought we had worked our way past that stage.” Phineas still didn’t know what to make of Takamura.

  “No, I’m sorry, Colonel, it’s just that I’m a bit surprised that you could be in charge of a project such as this and seem to ignore such an integral part of it as the Saurians.”

  Phineas sighed. “If you want to know the truth, I find them more than a little bit repulsive. I never had any great attraction for reptiles—you know, frogs and snakes and stuff like that.”

  “I see.”

  “Which reminds me,” Phineas said. “Do you think we are still in danger from them? What with the radiation and all that?”

  Mishima shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. From what I’ve been able to piece together, it seems like the radiation and the mutations were simply by-products of the changes taking place on board, an effect of the ship’s automated systems turning on again.”

  “Do you think we will be able to get any kind of control over this ship?”

  Takamura grinned wistfully. “Who knows? That sounds like the number-one project for me and my people, though.”

  Just then a trooper appeared at the far end of the rampart. “Excuse me, Colonel,” he said. “I’ve got a message for you from Dr. Lindstrom.”

  Phineas felt his pulse jump at the mention of Mikaela’s name, and suddenly he didn’t want to talk to Takamura any longer.

  “She’s back? Where is she?”

  “Down by the gates, Colonel. She said she’d like to see you there as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you, Corporal,” said Phineas, saluting him off. Turning to Takamura, he extended his hand in friendship. “Let’s get that assembly set up as soon as possible, all right, Doctor?”

  “I’ll get right on it, Colonel.”

  * * *

  Her skin glowed like polished ivory in the light of the lantern as she rolled off him, staring at the roof of the tent. Even with her blond hair cut short, Mikaela looked fantastic to him. Her body was lithe and athletic—narrow hips, tiny waist, high pert breasts—and her capacity for lovemaking seemed inexhaustible. For pure physical excitement and gratification, she was unequaled.

  “You’re unbelievable,” said Phineas.

  Mikaela giggled and looked at him with her electric blue eyes. “I’ve been saving it up. I feel like I’ve been living in that OTV for a month.”

  “It certainly was nice of the Saurians to let use their tents, wasn’t it?” he asked with a smile.

  “Well, we’re all in this together now, and we’ve got to make camp somewhere. The outdoor bazaar seemed like a logical choice—the stalls and vendors’ tents make perfect cabanas.”

  Phineas laughed. “Is that what we’re in? A cabana?”

  “Well, you know what I mean. Besides, who cares where we are as long as we can be like this.” She kissed him lightly on the forehead and brushed her fingers over his limp penis.

  Phineas stirred instantly. “My God, Mikaela ... again? I mean, I’m not complaining, mind you, but I need some time in between to rest.”

  “You men are all alike,” she joked.

  “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

  “Is the colonel getting jealous?”

  “Now look here, Lindstrom, you women don’t have to worry about getting it up, you know. You’d feel differently if that were the case.”

  “I think it’s all rather symbolic, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Whatever are you talking about?” Phineas was suddenly confused.

  “Well, think about it—men worrying about their silly erections is a perfect symbol for all the other dumb things they worry about. Promotions, achievements, commissions, records ... God, they’re always trying to get something up. Higher and higher. Bigger and better.”

  “Are you complaining, my dear?”

  Mikaela giggled softly. “No, I’m just trying to be the devil’s advocate, I suppose.” She looked at him warmly and kissed him again. “I guess what I’m really doing is smoke-screening.”

  “Really? For what?”

  “Phineas, I’m scared.”

  “You’re not alone in feeling that way.”

  “But that doesn’t make it any better.” Mikaela looked him squarely in the eyes. “Tell me, what’s really going on? Why is the ship moving? Where is it going?”

  “I’m not supposed to say anything until the assembly later tonight,” Phineas said. “So you’ll have to promise to keep your pretty mouth shut.”

  “I think I can be trusted. I mean, how many people can I tell in the next hour or so?”

  “All right, I’ll tell you what I know, but you’re not going to like it.”

  * * *

  Everyone had come to the large room at the appointed time. It was a circular enclosure like an amphitheater, divided up into many smaller cells or boxes, each set upon rising platforms. The female Saurians empl
oyed rooms like this to raise their infants, but Mishima had no idea what actually took place in their nurseries.

  This evening the boxes were occupied by all the humans who had survived the chaos of the last several days. Mishima Takamura had counted 106 people, and he was shocked to learn that so many had died. He stood in the center of the room with Colonel Kemp, Dr. Jakes, and Dr. Lindstrom, looking from face to face, trying to read the emotions that burned behind their eyes.

  The room was totally silent now, and it seemed as though everyone was afraid to speak. Mishima had just finished explaining everything he knew about the events so far.

  He had just told them that they were trapped in a ship that had made a faster-than-light jump into hyperspace, that the Earth and the solar system were probably thousands of light-years away by now, and that there was no way of knowing the ship’s destination or the duration of the flight.

  The news was absorbed by the group of survivors with an eerie, stunned silence. Mishima shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked at the others in the center of the room, then back to the assembled group. He could sense anger in them, and frustration, and of course fear. They looked at him and Kemp and the others as though they were somehow responsible for the present state of affairs.

  Finally someone stood up near the back. A young woman who had worked in the Paleo Camp.

  “Yes?” said Mishima.

  “How certain are you that what you’ve told us is true, Dr. Takamura? I mean, are we one hundred percent sure that we’ve left the solar system?”

  A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Mishima could sense their hope, their desire that perhaps the scientists could be wrong, that just maybe this was all a big mistake.