Chromosome Quest- a Hero's Quest Against the Singularity

by Nathan Gregory

  Finally, confident we could get underway without problems, we returned to the castle for another night of merry-making and hopefully fruitful copulation. Well, I was making two-backed beast with endless, eager partners, I am not sure what Teena and Petch were doing. Petch seemed to collect a clique at every stop. I know Petch was not shy about availing himself of the good times to be had, although it is not clear to me that he was leaving any progeny behind. The fur-people are remarkably uninhibited about such things, always ready to share pleasure with anyone.

  But as for Teena, I had not a clue how she spent the evenings. And I did wonder!

  Dark Castle

  The morning of our launch, we started very early, so much so that we were taking a risk that a lizard or two could still be awake. We had listened carefully from the castle for any noises that might indicate vermin nearby. In past times we had often heard them at night, especially the T-Rex who is known to vocalize a deep, bone-rattling basso profundo when chasing a meal. Or copulating. I would love to see that! Dangerous spectator sport though. I understand they do it much like dogs. Thirty-ton dogs. Unimaginable! Added witnessing that to my bucket list!

  Near the bottom!

  Anyway, the forest was quiet when we left the castle in the morning dampness. We stepped outside, listening intently. Hearing no threatening noises, we began moving along the path toward the water, trying to be as silent, but as quickly as possible. The lizards should be asleep by dawn, but you never know if an insomniac might still be wandering about looking for a last snack before retiring. They avoid the heat of the day, but it was not so scorching yet. Well, not for Planet Oz, anyway, only roughy like a steam sauna dialed up to twelve-point-five.

  We reached the boat without incident, then quickly loading our food-packs, we pushed off and were in the water. We grabbed our paddles and began to stroke energetically.

  At first, we moved slowly despite furious paddling, but then we reached the current and accelerated with the flow. Soon we were skimming along rapidly, seemingly making excellent time.

  Our hosts had a large, centuries-old stone map of the river which illustrated various landmarks along the way. Various prominent bluffs, patches of white water, remarkable rock formations, caves and more. We had studied it intently to be able to judge how we were progressing. I was also interested to know when we reached the closest approach to the Dark Castle, and most especially when we reached our intended destination. I studied the landmarks all around that area most carefully, committing every divot in the landscape to memory. We positively must not overshoot and miss our only safe-harbor.

  I had thought about scouting out the Dark Castle if time allowed. Depending on how rapidly we progressed, if we arrived there ahead of schedule, I considered beaching our craft and making a quick run to the castle and giving it a once-over to see if it was intact. I estimated we could do so at the cost of about an hour or less. My thinking was that as the water route would not work for us on the return trip since we could not make nearly enough speed against the current, we would be forced to brave that brutal, inhuman run we had avoided this time. I refused to accept that we would not return. Knowing the condition of the Dark Castle beforehand was key to any hope of success on our hypothetical return trip.

  When I studied the big stone map, I had mentally divided the downstream course into six segments, with prominent landmarks denoting each portion. By noting the position of the sun and our progress against these landmarks, I hoped to be able to judge our speed. We were betting our lives on being able to maintain the necessary pace. If we are falling behind, I needed to know!

  Our first landmark was a particularly spectacular granite bluff towering above the water. If we achieved our intended pace, we should see it about an hour into the trip. I was intently watching the sun, trying to estimate when an hour had passed. I wished I had an hourglass. I wished I had a lot of things. Sunscreen would be nice. We had covered ourselves with some foul smelling cooking oil for just that reason. It helped a lot!

  I concluded an hour had passed, and no bluff was in sight. I waited several minutes, then asked Teena if she thought we were an hour into our day. She assessed the position of the sun and decided it had not quite been an hour. I disagreed but deferred to her judgment. I looked to Petch, and he merely shrugged.

  A half-hour or so later we saw the bluff. I was becoming frantic. Our pace over the water seemed rapid, but I sensed we were falling behind our schedule. I put my all into each stroke and encouraged my mates to stroke faster.

  At the three hour mark, there was no longer any doubt we were in serious trouble. The stone map had noted a patch of whitewater in the river. We had not expected any trouble with it, which turned out to be a miscalculation. When we came within sight of the roiling waters, I knew we had a problem. We had expected something between a class 1 and a class 2 level of turmoil in the water, easy enough for even novice boatsmen. What we faced, we quickly realized, was nearly a class 4 rating, with several sharp drops and requiring advanced paddling skills. We lacked advanced paddling skills. Stark raving terror gripped my throat as we passed the point of no return, committed to rough water above our skill level.

  It could have been worse. We took on some water, and Petchy fell overboard, but we didn't capsize. Teena and I remained in control of our craft. If being in control means screaming in terror and hanging on for dear life while trying to maneuver away from visible rocks with paddles that seemed to have little effect. Given all the water swamping the boat, it would have been impossible to detect that anyone had voided a bladder in terror. That was a good thing.

  Petchy got wet, probably swallowed some river water, but was otherwise unhurt. He probably needed a bath anyway. Thankfully, Petch is a powerful swimmer, and once we had cleared the rapids, we were able to bring him back aboard without difficulty. We paddled to the shore and dumped out the excess water, checked our cargo, and then resumed our trek.

  The whitewater was our marker, and we were well over an hour behind schedule when we reached it. The additional delay clearing our boat of the excess water added to that. Unless we could somehow increase our pace significantly, we were Dino-dinner. We were already stroking our paddles furiously. We stroked harder, at our very physical limits, without noticeable improvement. We could see it was insufficient.

  I was in a full-on panic. After we cleared the white-water, I voiced my concern to my companions. They had already realized we were not making the progress we should. It seems a pirogue, being essentially flat-bottomed, did not glide thru the water the way a more sophisticated form might. Finally, we faced the reality that our only hope of surviving the day was to put in at the closest point to the Dark Castle and pray we could safely overnight there. We had no clue whether the castle walls even stood, but it was our only hope.

  We had fatally misjudged the difficulty of our water trip, under-estimated our aquatic abilities, and stood to pay the ultimate price for the failure. Not only were our own lives forfeit, but those of the others depending on us. We had no means of calling off the assault on the enemy stronghold. If we did not survive this night, their pending sacrifice would be for nothing, and our entire mission goes down the tubes. Humanity itself will pay the price for our hubris.

  We arrived at the closest approach to the Dark Castle more than six hours after the morning's launching. We were seriously late. My original plans had been to be here at least two hours earlier. We quickly pulled the boat onto the shore, unloaded our essentials, and headed on a dead run to the castle. We had several hours before sunset but might need every minute if we had to effect repairs to our proposed shelter. We wasted little time securing the boat. If we did not find refuge, we would not need it again. Hopefully, it would be where we dropped it. We grabbed our food packs and ran toward the castle.

  We arrived at the castle in minutes and quickly saw that indeed the fortress had indeed been breached by lizards. The great door was standing open, and dung, debris and remains inside told the tale. Fortun
ately, the structure was intact, and with a little work, we could fix the door. We scouted the castle and soon deduced what must have happened. It seems the residents had violated the most elementary rule of survival in Dino-country. They had opened the door after dark! Either that or a lizard had been out in the daytime, which seemed less likely.

  Why they would do so is unclear. The residents thoroughly understood the risks and ordinarily would not open up even for someone caught outside. Stone-age life can be brutal! The rules of their society often sacrificed individuals to protect the more substantial number. Perhaps a citizen had become trapped, and they honestly thought they could open to let her in, only to be overpowered by a beast.

  Once they breached the door, velociraptors would have charged through en mass. They hunt in packs and are quite crafty. In many ways, they are a lot like monstrous, blood-thirsty meat-eating chickens. Chickens that were six feet long with tails, three feet high and weighing over 50 pounds and with a vicious attack-dog personality; I'd much rather face an attack-dog than these abominations. Anyone with experience with chickens might suspect the magnitude of the threat they represent. Even ordinary roosters are often far smarter and far more vicious than a city boy is likely to understand. It is not for nothing that cock-fighting is a favorite sport in many places. These giant, ersatz chickens were far more dangerous than any earthly cock. A flock gaining entry would have made short work of the residents.

  All we had to do is close the great door and secure the latch. But first, we had to clean out the mess. The place stank heavily of Dino feces and although any actual bodies were long gone, copious bones, some recognizably human, many of other critters, were in evidence.

  I noted the presence of many bones of animals. Athena was in the midst of making observations on the fate of the residents and speculating how they might have come to violate a most fundamental rule in such a manner when a thought struck me.

  Suddenly I shushed Athena and waved to Petch to likewise be very quiet. They shot me questioning looks. Motioning them closer to me I very softly asked, “Where do nocturnal dinosaurs sleep in the daytime?” For about two heartbeats they both stared blankly at me. Then suddenly her eyes went round, and her lips formed an 'O.' Petch stood open-mouthed and silently slapped his forehead.

  Tiptoeing in silence, we carefully scouted the castle. Dino signs were everywhere, as was their stench. We quickly realized the smell was not only from the remains of their meals and their droppings. Glancing into one of the larger rooms, we discovered a flock of velociraptors nesting, calmly sleeping away the day. Fortunately, they were blissfully unaware of our presence. We desperately hoped we could keep it that way.

  Withdrawing, we quickly scouted the rest of the residence. No other vermin were evident. Then, working as quietly as possible we tackled the big front door, finished clearing the threshold of debris, repairing the latch and ensuring that we could indeed securely close the door.

  Then we returned to the urgent question of what to do about our resident flock. Killing the creatures seemed improbable. Remaining indoors with them seemed unwise. Out-of-doors was entirely out of the question. Whatever solution we were going to develop had better develop quickly. It was getting late, and they would soon be waking up!

  Scouting the residence for anything to work with, we found a rope and a few tools. We contrived a mechanism by which we could remotely shut the great door and latch it without betraying our presence to the predators. We weighted a lever against the door so that it would naturally close and then propped it open with a convenient rod. A quick tug and the door seemed to swing shut reliably and the latch fall. We tested it several times, and it seemed to work as we hoped.

  We worried about persuading the flock to leave. The lizards would not depart if they sensed in any way that we were present. Being inherently hospitable beasts, they would insist on having us for dinner.

  Staying in the castle after the sunset, unthinkable as that seemed, was our only option. If we could hide undetected somewhere until our unwelcome guests departed in the evening, we might then be able to close the front door and take possession of the place. I turned to my companions.

  “Is there any place that would be Dino-proof, and undetectable by the beasts that we could hide until they leave?” Athena shrugged. Petchy thought for a moment. Then he brightened. “The Queen's Safe!” he whispered. Athena and I looked at him questioningly. He went on. “I have been on this planet much more than either of you and have occasionally been invited into the inner chambers of the castle's mother. The Queen's Safe is my whimsical name, they do not use titles, particularly of Royalty. But the head of the family has very nice chambers, with a protected inner chamber for valuables. If they haven't breached it, we should be safe enough there.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “If they even smell us they won't leave. They can't smell us or hear us. They can't even suspect we are here. Once they detect us, we are dead; they will wait no matter how long it takes. Inside, they will not retreat from the sun's heat. They will sleep by whatever door we are behind until we are all long dead from starvation.”

  “I don't know,” he responded, “but it undoubtedly has a high window. Hopefully, if we close the doors our aroma will waft out the window, and they won't smell us, or if they do it will be wafting in roundabout from outside, which would work in our favor.”

  “It is our only shot. Show me where it is.”

  He led us up the stairs to the top of the castle. We passed through several sturdy doors which we closed behind us. Someone had already closed those on the upper level. I relaxed somewhat as I saw that the vermin had not breached the top level. From what we could tell, when they had invaded the main level, everyone had rushed to try and repel the invaders. Without powerful weapons, humans are not going to vanquish a flock of velociraptors. That math does not work. Anything less than an M2 Browning would be the same as unarmed. I wished for an M2. Or not, as I understood it might not work here. Nonetheless, I knew even with the Lady Seven and an unlimited supply of arrows, I was equally unarmed against this threat. No matter the specifics, there was no one on the upper levels to attract them, and someone had closed the doors. I began to have some hope we might pull this off. The predators had no reason to suspect fresh food would have moved in upstairs.

  Carefully closing the doors behind us, we inspected the Queen's Safe, as Petch had dubbed it. We lucked out. Not only was there a high opening for ventilation, but it was almost directly above the front door. Near enough anyway.

  Quickly retrieving the rope, we dropped one end out the window. Then Petch tiptoed back down and tied it to the lever propping the door open.

  We had no time to test our contrivance. It was getting late; the light was failing fast. Our guests would be soon waking up, and they would be hungry. Hungry enough, we prayed, to immediately go on a hunt. We hoped to watch through the window until we saw them leave. Petch returned just in time, and I directed him quickly to help us dampen some towels, rugs, anything we could find, and we used them to block all the cracks around the doors separating us from the flock, lest our scent should manage to waft their way. Between our natural odor from our physical exertions and our 'sunscreen,' we were plenty scentful. They would not need a keen nose to track us!

  It was no more than a few minutes until we heard a T-Rex bellow somewhere out in the woods. He was up early! We sensed a stirring below and some noisy distant rejoinders to the big boy. From the sound of that, perhaps food was not the first thing on his mind. I briefly wondered whether the fertility crisis affecting humans impacted the dinosaurs. One should hope, though I doubted it.

  We waited, watching quietly, hardly daring to breathe. Athena was crouching high on the window ledge, staring down at the door. I was below her, ready to pull the rope and close the door. Under less trying circumstances I would appreciate our relative positions and the enticing view afforded thereby, but abject fear for one's very life will curtail mundane drives. Even so, I found myself repe
atedly stealing glances upward. Some instincts are deeply ingrained, what can I say?

  Presently she whispered, “How many do you think there were?” I shrugged. “How should I know. I was too busy retreating when I saw them to bother with counting noses. Or beaks!” I turned to Petch. He whispered, “I think there were eight, maybe nine. I wasn't counting noses either.”

  Teena focused on the door. Not being able to focus on the door, I concentrated on Teena. Presently she whispered, “One has come out. It is walking around probing and sniffing around the door. It knows we were there.”

  We could hear shuffling around downstairs. We guessed the beastie must be checking out where we had been. A few more came out. Teena silently held up four fingers. They continued sniffing at our sign. Several more minutes and she added a fifth finger. No more came out for a good long while. We dare not spring our trap; there were potentially as many as four still inside. We waited. We waited some more.

  I began to think the rest were going to stay inside. We were doomed, if so. I glanced around the room we were in, searching for something, anything I could use. I noticed a polished stoneware container of fragrant oil, not that different from what we had used for ersatz sunscreen. Hmm.

  Grabbing the container, I climbed up on the ledge beside Teena, squeezing in beside her. Despite the very tight space, I balanced myself precariously with one hand and gave the oil a hearty toss, in the process firmly smacking Teena across her boobs with my arm as I hurled. I mouthed a silent apology. Well, they did kinda stick out. I honestly had not intended to commit sexual assault and felt intense embarrassment. Hopefully, she would not hold my clumsiness against me.

  Despite the precarious position, tight quarters and unintentional assault, the oil flew straight, sailing out into the gathering gloom, smashing itself to bits on a conveniently placed rock, well out in front of the castle.