Dinosaur World Omnibus

by Adam Carter

  I encircle my free hand about her head and clamp it across her mouth, drawing her bodily back to press against my chest. She struggles, tries to scream, and beneath the thin glasses I can now see she wears her eyes bulge in terror.

  “Shh,” I say gently, quietly. “Calm down.” She doesn’t calm down, her body shuddering violently, her arms flailing even though I’m keeping all her limbs against me to prevent too much movement. “Calm down,” I repeat just as quietly but this time with some ice. “You’re going to attract the predators.”

  She stops thrashing at this point, although her body does not relax at all. It’s a start, but I can almost feel her cold, imperious eyes boring into me.

  “I’m going to let you go now,” I tell her. “I don’t want you to run, I don’t want you to shout. If you have to speak, whisper. Understood?” She does not reply, so I repeat my question and she nods slowly.

  I release her and she wheels from me the instant she’s free, fire blazing in her eyes, a fierce hatred of anything which isn’t a plant evident upon her brow. Standing there flustering, she affords me my first actual look at her. Her file said she was twenty, but I would have placed her even younger than that. She has soft features, naïve and innocent. Her face is rounded, but her eyes are pinched and alert, lending her an almost elfin appearance, and I wonder whether she’s offended I’m wearing green.

  “Who are you?” she blurts. “What’s the meaning ...”

  “My code-name’s Autumn, you don’t need to know more than that. This is a military extraction, Professor. You’re not supposed to be here and you know it. Ceres is off-limits for a reason, and it’s a damn good one.”

  “I’m not afraid of animals, and I’m not afraid of soldiers.”

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me, ma’am. I’m here to save your life, that’s all. Now come with me, I have a craft waiting.”

  “I’m here collecting flora samples, and I’m not going until I’ve ...”

  “You’re going when I tell you, and that would be now.” I cast my eyes about her basket of plants and a small amount of electronic equipment. “Now gather your stuff, we’re leaving.”

  “I haven’t finished my studies.”

  “What’s to study? There aren’t even any flowers on Ceres.”

  “I’m looking into the effects plants may have on the reversal of cancer. You would like to see a cure for cancer wouldn’t you?”

  She’s not going to hook me with that. But as she stares so imperiously into my eyes it’s almost as though she knows about my mother. About how I didn’t make it to her bedside in time because of my work. About how my dad and my brother shut me out of their lives, about how everything I ever knew was screwed over because of that one word.

  But she doesn’t know – she can’t – so I say, “People better than you have been searching for the cure for cancer for centuries, ma’am. You’re not going to find it on Ceres.”

  “But on Ceres we have extinct plants, soldier.” She’s actually trying to reason with me. “Plants whose properties need to be studied.” And I’m actually listening. “Plants which may well not only cure cancer, but headaches, the common cold and world hunger to boot.”

  “And which world would that be?” I snap, taking any opportunity now. The plan was to find her, take her back to the ship and get out. Instead I find myself losing control by falling into a conversation with the girl. “We can discuss this back at the ship,” I tell her and grab her roughly by the wrist. “Now come on.”

  She shakes her arm, but there’s no way she can dislodge my hand and she knows it. Her eyes narrow angrily at me. “I have work to do, soldier.”

  “Illegal work. This world is quarantined.”

  “So what are you doing here?”

  “Special permission for extraction. It happens when we get idiots like you deciding to take a wander.”

  I thought she might take a shot at me for the idiot comment. After all, she probably has a dozen degrees and can comfortably hold a conversation regarding the relationship between different molecules and how best to split an atom. I’m several years her elder and don’t know any of that stuff. But take away my weapons and my clothes and I can go four or five rounds with a polar bear.

  Suddenly the world turns dark and I grab hold of the professor, throwing us both to the ground. The sunlight returns and I peer upwards, pressing Harper into the ground, holding my own body against her to prevent her moving, my hand still firmly pressing into the small of her back. I can see the pale blue sky beyond the tips of the waving grass and cannot help but believe the grass is signalling something as to our position.

  I do not want to meet anything which has the sheer mass to block out the sun in that way, and having read up on the various creatures which inhabit this place I’m fighting down panic. Fear is the greatest killer in a professional soldier; ineptitude is the greatest killer in battle, but a soldier should not suffer from such, which leaves only fear. Because no one, I don’t care who they are, can fully banish fear. Everyone’s afraid of something.

  Whatever that thing was, however, it seems to have gone for now.

  “We’re moving,” I whisper in a voice barely above the soughing of the wind through the grasses. Harper can see my lips moving though and doesn’t need the words to know what I want. “Go slowly.”

  I rise back to a crouch and drag Harper to her feet also. Being shorter than me she does not have to crouch quite as much, although nor is she stupid enough to walk brazenly tall. It seems even posh botanists understand when there are predators watching them.

  We move as quickly as we can, but I’m not willing to sacrifice silence for speed. I think about my goggles and how I foolishly trained them all about the grass, but did not think to consider anything in the sky.

  Again the world is plunged into darkness and again I shove the professor to the ground. Light returns momentarily, but I can’t imagine anything of a size to block out the sun for even the second it had. I run a few calculations through my head, trying to work out whether I can make it back to my craft. That’s a definite no, but there’s tree cover at the end of the field, beyond which is the ship. If we can make it to the trees I’m certain we could lose our pursuer. Ordinarily I would not automatically assume the thing was after us, yet with two passes I’m willing to take no chances. Even if it doesn’t intend to attack, we’ve clearly piqued its interest, and that’s the worst thing to achieve on Ceres.

  Harper shrieks, and the sun is once more blacked out. I do not berate the professor, but nor do I release her arm, for I don’t want her running off in the wrong direction. The grass almost flattens in the wind and as I rise once more to a crouch I feel myself almost blown over by the sudden gale. A sliver of sunlight emerges, and is gone in an instant, and I look up to see the grass parting, attempting to flee from the menacing sight hovering directly above.

  The winged beast is huge, and from the files I read it was the airborne menace on top of my list of ones I really didn’t want to meet. Its length from head to feet is eight metres, but its wingspan, like some gigantic bat, stretches to over twelve. It would take three human beings lined head to toe to equal even one of its mighty wings. What those wings are made of I have no idea, but I know they put my military attire to shame. A dull grey, they at once appear translucent and opaque, like wet leather catching the sun and glinting the light into my eyes. A strong bony ridge forms the very outskirt of each wing, the remainder being flexible material strong enough to keep this monster in the air.

  Its body is long and bullet-shaped, with lengthy yellowing feet trailing behind. The body itself reminds me of the sleekness of a fish, and I can imagine this thing diving into the waves to retrieve whatever monstrous sea-life it would call a morsel. Its neck is long and hardly distinguishable from the main body, ending in a yellowing head which is formed almost primarily of beak: a large wide maw which ends in two beady eyes affixed one either side of the head, culminating in a small bony crest which may well of
fer defence against natural predators.

  I cannot imagine a natural predator for this monstrosity so large it could comfortably fit three or four people upon its neck in flight.

  It hovers above us, examining us carefully, and I notice that it does not seem able to move its long neck too easily. That would be an advantage if it came to a fight, for fleeing the thing would mean it would not be able to accurately track us. It opens its beak to screech at us, and I’m forced to cover my ears as the grass about us vibrates in fear, Harper releasing a yelp as pain explodes through her brain.

  I do not release my hold upon the professor. The quetzalcoatlus, as with all winged creatures of its time, had a diet which consisted of fish and insects. This beast is large enough to scavenge upon the dead of large animals, however, and there were theories put forth years ago which suspected this beast of being the vulture of its day. Still, even vultures would not attack a living prey with a sting. The quetzalcoatlus will not attack, I feel myself lying silently. It will not attack; it was not biologically programmed to attack.

  I can see in its eyes it’s at any moment going to attack.

  “Move!” I shove the professor through the grass, releasing her so she can run without stumbling, my eyes ever upon the great winged beast above us. Its downdraft is immense and my feet catch upon one another, threatening to smack me into the ground where the prehistoric vulture could gain an easy meal. It raises its head in what amounts to a primal glee, altering the angle of its wings that it might gain a better view of me. From what I’ve read about these things I was under the impression they glided by catching updrafts and winds. That doesn’t amount to a lot of wing-flapping, which means it shouldn’t be able to just hover there like that.

  I’m beginning to feel there’s a lot about Ceres which isn’t natural, and when one’s faced with a twelve metre prehistoric vulture that’s no mean statement.

  Its beak snaps towards me through the grass and I level my pistol and squeeze the trigger. The air is suddenly filled with an exploding thunder, adding to the wind-tossed storm the quetzalcoatlus is already drawing up. For all its sheer size and width, however, my bullet goes entirely wide, but the sound is enough to send the monster reeling in shock. I can literally feel the grass sigh with relief that the thing is leaving as slowly the tall blades return to some semblance of normality.

  I’m just through congratulating myself when I suddenly remember I told the professor to run.

  Damn rookie mistake, that’s what it was, but I waste no time in self-recrimination and instead activate my goggles to track her movement. There’s a heat signature roughly the size of my wayward professor moving in an easterly direction. Fear may be the greatest killer in a professional, but it can certainly be a great motivator: somehow the prof’s managed to put almost fifty metres between us.

  Breaking into a run, I charge after her, keeping the goggles affixed to my eyes so I can see if she changes direction. It’s odd running with the goggles, especially since I’ve never really liked even walking with them. I can register heat sources, but little else, so the blades of grass aren’t even showing up. It’s as though I’m running through an empty field instead of a forest of grass.

  My heart catches in my throat as I see another heat source ahead, circling the professor, and I tear the goggles from my eyes. The quetzalcoatlus is circling once more, training its beady eyes upon Professor Harper. I can’t see the prof any more, but I know precisely where she is and I can travel faster without the prohibiting goggles. Holstering my pistols I draw the rifle from my back. Without the goggles I can certainly shoot better, too.

  The quetzalcoatlus makes a lunge into the grass, but comes up empty, and I realise I can’t afford for it to make another pass. It’s circling again, almost lazily, but I know it’s just trying to catch the wind as best it can while it sizes up its prey and assures itself of the best angle of descent. I’m somewhere within twenty metres of the prof now, assuming she’s stopped, and can’t afford to get any closer because the quetzalcoatlus is dropping again.

  Throwing the rifle to my shoulder, I stare at the thing down the sight and lead it for an instant before cracking off a shot. The rifle releases a single dull explosion and I watch in a panic far surpassing satisfaction as the beast reels off, a bloody arc trailing from its throat. It veers out of range, putting itself between me and the sun, and I decide I’m not going to get another shot at the thing until it comes back down.

  Hurtling through the grass, I find Harper lying on the floor, trembling and attempting vainly to get to her feet. She turns terror-stricken eyes upon me and I can see her face and lips have paled as though she’s already dead. Grabbing her by the arm I haul her to her feet and stare directly into her eyes and just pray there’s some small semblance of calm remaining in my own.

  “There are trees to the north. A minute’s run. Go.”

  “I ...” She can barely speak, and I know if she doesn’t do what I tell her neither of us is getting out of this mess.

  “You can do it,” I promise. “Run. Believe me, I’m right behind you.”

  A screech fills the air again and the grass trembles as the quetzalcoatlus swoops down once more. All sense of curiosity has fled its system now as it attacks, its beak snapping open, its eyes small and intensely cruel. I bring my rifle to my shoulder and fire, my shot taking it through the wing and tearing a hole which doesn’t slow it at all. I don’t know whether it’s the wind or my own fear, but I can’t seem to hit anything today.

  “Go!” I shout at Harper, the one thing I at least have some semblance of control over, and I can hear by the pounding of her boots that she’s actually done as she’s told.

  An instant later I gasp at the impact as the massive head, easily the length of my entire body, slams into me. I’ve narrowly managed to avoid its jaws, yet the impact of being butted by such a great force sends me flying through the grass. I slam into the ground, rolling, unable to determine even my direction, and as I grind to a halt, my face pressed into the mud, I can feel my ribs screaming in pain and I’m suddenly very grateful for whatever materials the military uses to make this armour of mine.

  Unable to repress a groan, I drag myself to one knee, hacking blood and fighting the dizziness my sudden intense nausea is bringing on. My head’s pounding and I know the only way I’m getting out of this is if I allow my adrenalin to take charge.

  Suddenly my leg goes in the air and my face slams into the mud once more. I can feel something yanking at me and I can’t find my rifle. Panicking, I draw my pistols and without even looking I point them both behind me and fire two shots from each. My leg is released in an instant and I’m back in the mud, floundering in my vain effort to get anywhere. Oblivious to the location of my enemy, I roll onto my back, pistols raised to see the quetzalcoatlus coming at me once more. Screaming in rage and pain and fear and panic I squeeze off far too many shots for me to be able to afford to lose, and the air above me explodes in a crimson cloud, foul rain spattering my body and face, a coppery almost acidic taste splashing my tongue and stinging my eyes.

  The quetzalcoatlus attempts to rise, flaps its wings to escape, but to allow it such freedom would only be to have it return and that’s something my fear won’t allow. Taking careful aim, I release one final pistol shot and watch as the bony skull between its eyes erupts in a mass of blood and cartilage, and the great beast collapses one final time, jerking as it settles into the grass.

  My body tingling with energy, my chest ready to burst, I struggle to my feet, slipping once, twice, but ultimately forcing myself back to my feet. Breathing heavily, I take one final look at the great monster now lying dead before me, and realise even in death this creature is the most majestic thing I’ve ever seen.

  Then I remember the professor and start off after her, grabbing up my rifle as I run.

  Thankfully Harper for once did as she was told, and as I leave the grass behind and reach the trees, I find her leaning against one, shivering. She’s pale and we
ak and I can see she’s vomited whatever she had for breakfast. She’s also lost any equipment or samples she had had out in the grass. As I stand there, body and hair caked in mud and blood, but with all my equipment as intact as my bodily functions I can’t help but feel I’ve won something over the professor already.

  “Why did it attack?” Harper asks in a tight, trembling voice. “They feed on fish and insects. I read up on them!” Her anger is momentary and I know it’s just her brain’s way of trying to cope with this. She’s not crying, so that’s one thing at least.

  “Maybe it was hungry,” I suggest. Maybe there’s not a lot to eat here on Ceres, maybe the things living here aren’t quite what we expected. Studying the fossils of extinct animals, it would seem, doesn’t do much to prepare one for the real experience. “I think maybe Ceres doesn’t play by the rules, Professor.” I’m trying to reassure her, trying to be kind. Not because I much care what she thinks of me, but because I have to travel with this woman and would like her to do what I tell her. Besides which, my ship’s back in the other direction, which means circling the grass the long way around.

  I notice she hasn’t thanked me yet, and don’t hold my breath on that.

  Behind me I hear the sudden squawk of predators and watch as three further quetzalcoatli descend upon the grass, presumably upon the corpse of their fallen. There are theories about them being scavengers, but nothing in the files about them being cannibals. But then I guess no one’s ever spent enough time down here to actually catalogue their behaviour.

  “We should get out of here,” I say, and realise Harper’s staring distantly at the scene which we thankfully cannot see in its gory entirety. “Harper?” I ask, stepping between her and the sight. “We need to go.”

  She shakes her head, blinking rapidly, but no colour returns to her face. “Yes, of course.” And she starts walking off through the trees, no course in mind, no heed being paid to her movements. I’d have a better companion if I’d brought my son’s dog with me.