by Steve Cole
The other athletes staged a big welcome back party for Hank and Crank.
Admiral Rosso sent special congratulations to the crew – “I knew you could do it!” he beamed.
The grateful organizers of the Great Dinosaur Games even offered Teggs and a guest two special seats in the royal paddock.
On the flight deck, Teggs was still glowing with pride. Soon he would be mingling with royalty! The kings and queens of every dinosaur race would be watching the games. This was the first time they had all gathered together in one place. It was a truly special occasion.
Then Teggs was jolted from his thoughts by a sudden clattering and whistling from the flock of flying reptiles around him.
“We’re now in orbit around Olympus, Captain,” Gipsy translated. “I think the dimorphodon are as excited as we are!” She cleared her throat. “Er … have you decided who you’re taking to the games?”
“Yes …’’Teggs beamed at the stripy hadrosaur. “You! We’ll take a shuttle down to the stadium with the other athletes in about one hour’s time.”
Gipsy grinned. “Yes, sir.” But Teggs’s mood vanished when he saw Arx plodding over, shaking his horned head with worry.
“I’ve been studying all the data on our recent raptor adventures,” said the triceratops. “And something’s worrying me.”
But before he could go on, the flight deck doors swept open to reveal Hank and Crank. Iggy stood proudly behind them.
“Welcome to the flight deck,” said Teggs politely.
“We just realized, we never thanked you properly for paying the ransom to get us back,” said Crank. “I bet it was a total fortune, right?”
Teggs and Arx swapped awkward looks.
“Er ...” Teggs began, “kind of ...”
“That’s weird,” said Gipsy suddenly. “I’m picking up a strange signal. It’s interfering with our communicators.”
“Find out where the signal’s coming from,” Teggs ordered, instantly alert.
“Wow, a captain’s work is never done, huh?” grinned Hank. “Sorry to bug you when you’re busy. We’ll catch you later at the games.”
“Yeah!” said Crank. “We’re going to crack some serious skull down there, Captain – just for you!”
With that, the stegoceras athletes left the flight deck.
“Good lads,” said Iggy quietly. “They’ll do us herbivores proud!”
“That’s funny, Captain,” Gipsy reported. “The interference is clearing now. Just sort of fading away.”
“Don’t worry, Gipsy,” said Teggs. “I’m sure it’s probably nothing.” He turned back to his first officer. “Now, what were you saying?”
“Listen, Captain,” Arx said. “I checked the records for all recent raptor ransom demands. General Loki’s demand for twenty gold pieces, a satellite monitor and some moss is actually the lowest ransom ever recorded.”
“That monitor was a beauty, though,” Iggy reminded them glumly.
Arx ignored him. “And remember when they got on board? They could’ve taken all the athletes. Why just take Hank and Crank?”
Teggs nodded slowly. “And if it was really money they were after, why not just steal it from the ship?”
“Why not indeed,” said Arx. “Those raptors had us at their mercy – but they just gave up and flew away.”
“What about those T. rexes on Planet Sixty?” Iggy argued. “I bet Loki knew they were down there. He was leading us into a trap.”
“I don’t think so,” said Arx. “The raptors and T. rexes are fierce enemies.”
Gipsy frowned. “Hang on, why did he pick Planet Sixty at all? It’s light years away from the raptors’ world.”
“But very handy for us,” said Arx, his horns glinting in the light. “It’s on our way to the Dinosaur Games.”
“That’s crazy!” cried Iggy. “Why would the raptors want to make things easy for us?”
“There can only be one answer,” said Teggs impressively.
Everyone looked at him.
Teggs swallowed nervously in the sudden spotlight. “Er … Because they wanted us to pick up the stegoceras athletes with no delays. They wanted us to get them to the games on time – whatever it took!”
Arx nodded. “I think you’re right.”
The dimorphodon flight crew clapped their leathery wings politely.
Iggy raised his voice over the applause. “Well, I don’t know what they were planning, but security at the games is too tight for any funny business. You can’t sneak a single stalk of celery in there without the security guards knowing about it.” He sighed. “I should know, I’ve tried it!”
“Maybe so,” said Teggs, turning to Gipsy. “But I think it’s time we checked out the raptors’ enclosure on Olympus. We’ve got plenty of questions. Now it’s time to get the answers!”
Chapter Eight
RUMBLING THE RAPTORS
Teggs and Gipsy took a shuttle down to the planet’s surface at top speed, while Arx and Iggy stayed on board the Sauropod.
“No sign of any raptor death ships in orbit,” Arx’s voice crackled from the communicator. “But the Sauropod is getting plenty of admiring looks from the other ships parked here!”
“So she should,” grinned Teggs. “Keep an eye on things. Gipsy and I are going to head straight for the raptor enclosure.”
“Good luck, sir,” said Arx.
*
Teggs and Gipsy’s royal passes got them swiftly through the crowds. No one dared to question where the two dinosaurs were going, and they soon reached the raptor enclosure.
This was where the raptors trained for the games. The rough floor was covered with bones and dark scraps. Teggs didn’t want to examine them too closely. The whole place was sticky and shadowy, and it stank of raw meat.
“Quiet, isn’t it?” Gipsy hissed.
“Too quiet,” Teggs murmured uneasily. He hadn’t expected to breeze straight to the heart of the raptors’ den. They should have met some kind of obstacle by now!
Teggs crept on down the corridors as quietly as a seven-ton animal can creep. He thought longingly of the golden seats waiting for them in the royal paddock, glinting in the warm light from the planet’s six suns. But a niggling feeling in his heavy bones told him that bad was going to happen very soon – and that they didn’t have long to stop it.
Teggs came to a sudden halt. He’d heard something up ahead – a distant buzzing sound. At first it sounded like a swarm of bees, but then he realized it was the sound of a mighty audience clapping and cheering over TV speakers.
Shuffling forwards, Teggs poked his bead round the nearest open door, marked CENTRAL CONTROL. It was a large room with dark TV screens piled up along one wall. A raptor, wearing the peaked cap of a security guard, sat alone in a chair with its back to the screens. Its eyes were glued to a broadcast of the games’ opening ceremony on a large monitor.
Teggs cleared his throat. “What do you think you’re doing, you snivelling security guard?” he yelled.
The raptor leaped in the air like it had sat on a spike. “Just checking the ssstegocerasss were in position, sssir!” it hissed hurriedly.
“Oh yes?” Teggs frowned at the raptor. “In position for what?”
But the raptor had realized it was not explaining itself to its boss, but to some stupid herbivore! “You’ll never know,” it rasped. Eyes narrowed, it scuttled forwards and threw itself at Teggs’s neck.
Luckily, Teggs ducked out of reach just in time. The raptor sailed out through the doorway and into the wall opposite. Gipsy jabbed the back of its neck with her big bill. The raptor collapsed, and she sat on it.
“Help!” it shrieked. “I can’t move!”
“Answer the captain s questions and I’ll sit somewhere else,” said Gipsy sweetly.
“First question,” said Teggs. “Where are all your raptor buddies?”
“Where it is sssafe,” said the raptor smugly. Then it seemed to think it had said too much. “I mean – they are all ou
t training, of courssse.”
“Leaving only someone as dumb as you behind?” Teggs shook his head. “I don’t think so. You raptors are up to something. You’re working for General Loki, aren’t you?”
“No way!” squealed the raptor. “I have never heard the name of our gloriousssly evil Commander of the Ssseven Fleetsss of Death, ruler of the meat mines of Raptosss, eater of edmontosssaurusss and devourer of … er … ever before in my life. Ever.”
Teggs and Gipsy looked doubtfully at each other.
“Fibber,” said Teggs.
The raptor gasped. “How did you know?”
Teggs smiled. “That satellite monitor you were watching. It’s the one we gave you in return for Hank and Crank!”
“So what have you done to them?” said Gipsy. “Come on, talk – or I’ll jab you where it really hurts!”
“Don’t, please!” yelped the guard. “I’m the only raptor left on the whole planet. Olympusss is doomed – thanks to your knuckle-headed friends!”
Teggs felt a shiver down his backbone. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” hissed the raptor nastily, “that when we kidnapped your athletesss, our doctors sssecretly placed a big bomb in their ssstupid skulls!”
“What?” gasped Gipsy.
The raptor nodded proudly. “When they bang their heads together hard enough, the bombs will go off – and the royal families of every dinosssaur race will be destroyed in a huge explosion!”
Teggs glared down at their prisoner. “You wouldn’t dare! The whole quadrant would come after you for revenge!”
“But firssst there will be chaos,” the raptor hissed. “While every dinosssaur weeps in shock, our battle fleet shall attack their worlds.”
Gipsy swallowed hard. “Taken by surprise, they won’t stand a chance!”
The raptor laughed. “General Loki shall rule over half the galaxy!” It stared up at Teggs, eyes gleaming under the peak of its cap. “And it’s all down to you, Captain! By bringing those head-butters here, you’ve helped it to happen!”
Chapter Nine
COUNTDOWN TO CARNAGE
“You’re bluffing,” Teggs decided. “Why should we believe you?”
“Captain,” gasped Gipsy, her crest turning bright blue in alarm.
‘Remember that strange signal I picked up on the flight deck?”
Teggs nodded. “Sure.”
“The signal started when Hank and Crank entered the flight deck, and stopped again when they left!” she said. “Don’t you see? Those head bombs must’ve caused it!”
“We’re in trouble,” Teggs groaned.
The raptor chuckled. Gipsy jabbed her bill against the back of his head again and he fell silent.
Teggs turned up the volume on the satellite monitor. The commentator speaking was a brachiosaurus with a neck so long he could oversee the entire sprawling stadium.
“For the first time in fifty years, the royal families of every dinosaur race have been brought together,” he said seriously. “A spirit of friendly competition fills the air. Plant eaters and carnivores stand side by side in perfect peace. Of course, that big wire fence between them helps …”
“How long before the games begin?” asked Gipsy.
It’s almost three o’clock – almost time for the first event,” said the commentator, as if he’d heard her question. “That’s the head-banging contest – also known as the Battle of the Butts …”
“We’ve got so little time!” squealed Gipsy. “What can we do?”
“Hang on,” said Teggs grimly. He began to nose about the raptors’ security room. “I’ll bet it’s round here somewhere … aha!” he cried, shoving his head in a cupboard. “Just what’s needed!”
“What have you found?” Gipsy asked breathlessly. “A way to defuse the bombs?”
“Nope – moss! It ransom, remember?” beamed Teggs. He pulled a massive green mouthful out of the cupboard. “I always think better on a full stomach.” With that, he scoffed the lot and let out an enormous, satisfied belch. “Now, come on, Gipsy. No more dawdling – we’ve got a planet to save!”
Back on the Sauropod, high above the planet, Arx and Iggy were watching the countdown to the games on the scanner screen. Graceful pterodactyls soared through the air above the stadium with cameras in their long jaws.
They were beaming all the action live to a hundred worlds throughout the dinosaur empire.
“Look,” said Iggy, “Hank and Crank are first up to compete!”
“And here are two true head-banging heroes,” said the commentator, “two plucky stegoceras with the hardest heads of any herbivore around … Hank and Crank!”
The stadium, crammed with thousands of excited dinosaurs, shuddered with a giant roar of approval. Even the dimorphodon flight crew on the Sauropod stopped work for a while, watching attentively from perches all about the flight deck.
One pterodactyl zoomed in to show Hank and Crank circling each other on all fours, heads lowered …
“Not long to go now, folks,” came the commentator’s voice. “When the stadium clock strikes three times, the contest will begin. And I think we’re in for some really explosive action today!”
Teggs and Gipsy raced for the royal paddock. They knew they had to warn the kings and queens and cancel the contest.
They bundled down a long escalator lined with regal red carpet. Then, breathless, they approached the diamond-studded doors that led to the royal paddock.
Suddenly, five stubby-headed carnotaurus stewards appeared from nowhere, blocking the way. The stewards’ tiny eyes glinted beneath the short, pointed horns on their eyelids.
“Can we help you?” asked one coldly.
“Even better,” said another, “can we eat you?”
Teggs ignored him. “We need to get into the royal paddock,” he panted.
“Oh yeah?” The first carnotaurus wrinkled its nostrils. “You don’t look like royalty to me.”
“We have special passes,” said Teggs. “Gipsy?”
The colour drained from Gipsy’s crest as she searched for them. “I’ve lost them!”
The stewards laughed, their tiny little forearms waggling with mirth. “You must think we hatched yesterday!” they cried.
Teggs glared at them and turned back to Gipsy. “You must have dropped them in the raptor enclosure. You know, when you sat on that security guard ... ”
He trailed off. The stewards had narrowed their eyes still further.
“What were a couple of royal herbivores doing inside a raptor enclosure?” asked the first, leaning forwards suspiciously. “Perhaps you’ve got something to do with the raptors not showing up to the games?”
Teggs groaned in despair. “We don’t have time for this!”
Outside, the pterodactyls were still zooming through the air with their TV cameras. The commentator’s voice echoed from the stadium: “The tension mounts! In just a few moments the great clock will chime … and Hank and Crank will get butting!”
“Please!” cried Gipsy. “We have to get out there and stop them!”
“Don’t think so,” snarled the second steward. “First, you have to get out of here.”
The five powerful predators advanced menacingly towards Teggs and Gipsy, drool dripping from their jaws . . .
Chapter Ten
DROPPING IN
“Sorry guys,” said Teggs as he lashed out at the nearest steward with his tail. “But I think you’ll thank me later!” The carnotaurus was knocked flying, and the other stewards leaped back in surprise. “Quick, Gipsy!” he yelled. “Inside!”
Together, they burst into the royal paddock. Close behind him came the five stewards. Dinosaur kings and queens gasped and shrieked as Teggs and Gipsy pushed past them. They spilled drinks, crushed crowns and sent golden chairs scattering.
“Stop the contest!” Teggs yelled, dodging the snapping jaws of the nearest carnotaurus. “I’m a space captain!”
“Look!” Gipsy cried.
She
was staring in horror at an enormous video screen.
The pterodactyls had zoomed in on the great clock. It was edging ever closer towards three. They only had seconds to stop Hank and Crank from making the biggest bang in dinosaur history!
Suddenly, Teggs had a brilliant idea.
“The pterodactyls, Gipsy!” he shouted, almost trampling several queens as he dodged another steward. “The ones with cameras! Maybe they can lift us out into the stadium!
“It’s worth a try, sir!” Gipsy nimbly hopped onto the back of a startled diplodocus. Quickly she whistled and clicked urgently at the flying reptiles high above them – just like she bossed about the dimorphodon on the Sauropod’s flight deck.
Teggs backed away from the angry carnotaurus stewards who had finally fenced him in. They advanced, closer and closer, jaws snapping, little hands twitching …
Suddenly, a dozen pterodactyls dived out of the sky. They dropped the TV cameras on the stewards’ heads, and sent them sprawling.
Teggs grinned at Gipsy. “I’m glad you speak fluent pterosaur!”
“I told them what I’d do to them if they didn’t help!” Gipsy winked. “I’m just glad they believed me!”
Gipsy clicked and whistled some more. A moment later, Teggs felt the armoured plates that ran down his back being gripped and lifted by twenty-four claws and twelve jaws.
The great clock chimed once. The sound was almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd.
“Quick!” yelled Teggs. Then his stumpy legs were kicking the air as he was lifted up, up into the sky.
The clock chimed twice.
Teggs gulped as he looked down. Gipsy was just a distant speck far below, but he thought he could hear her calling out. Wishing him luck.
“Good work, guys,” he called to his flapping friends. He just hoped they spoke his language. “Now, see those orange nutters with the hard heads? Take me there!”
The clock chimed for the third and final time.
“Hurry!” Teggs bellowed.
As the crowd clapped and cheered, Hank and Crank ran out into the stadium.
“Here we go, folks!” the commentator cackled over the loudspeakers. “These hard-headed herbivores are ready for a bone-jarring skull-joust. I’m sure it’ll be one we’ll never forget!”
