Astrosaurs 18

by Steve Cole

  “Shut the doors!” Teggs yelled, and Sprite bashed a button with his beak. The shuttle sealed itself with a satisfying click – just as a furry body smashed against it, denting the bodywork.

  “They don’t give up easily, do they,” Gipsy quavered.

  “Nor do we,” said Teggs, jumping back up. “Head for the Sauropod, Gipsy – that unmarked ship must be almost on top of us!”

  Gipsy hit the dung-burner jets, and the shuttle tore away from the Lightning Bolt. Teggs couldn’t wait to see the reassuring sight of his shiny egg-shaped ship through the windscreen.

  But as the shuttle turned through space, the astrosaurs gasped to find a very different ship dead ahead of them, blocking their way. It was huge and imposing, bright red and boxy, glimmering in the starlight.

  “The unmarked ship making for the Lightning Bolt,” Teggs murmured. “It’s arrived.”

  “But who’s on board?” said Iggy. “And what do they want?”

  “Eeep!” said Sprite, hiding his eyes with both wings.

  “This is Captain Teggs calling the Sauropod.”

  Teggs spoke into his communicator. “Dactil, this is Shuttle Delta – come in, please.” A harsh crackle of static came back in answer. “Dactil? Please respond!”

  “That weird ship must be blocking our signals,” groaned Iggy.

  Gipsy’s head-crest turned so blue it dazzled. “Or else it completely destroyed the Sauropod while we were trying to escape!”

  Then a quiet hiss started up in the shuttle. “What’s that?” Teggs turned round – and to his horror saw the tip of a claw poking through a tiny hole in the shuttle doors. “I don’t believe it. There’s a sabre-tooth clinging on out there!”

  “It must be Fangal.” Gipsy boggled. “But there’s no air in space. She can’t survive out here.”

  “Has anyone told her that?” cried Iggy as, with a sharp scratching noise, another claw popped into sight. Sprite pecked the claws with his beak, trying to weaken her hold. But an increased thumping and scraping started up on the other side of the door as Fangal tore at the metal all the harder.

  “She’s puncturing the doors,” groaned Teggs: the holes were growing bigger and the hissing sound was louder. “Our air is escaping into space. If we don’t stop that crazed cat, we’ll suffocate!”

  And all the time, through the shuttle windscreen, the menacing red ship was floating closer . . . closer . . .

  * * *

  Back at Outpost Q, Arx was squinting through the Megascope. The sinister dark red ship was blotting out his view of the Sauropod, and the Lightning Bolt was hiding the shuttle. Arx had tried calling both Dactil and his captain, but got nothing but static.

  “Whatever the threat, they can handle it,” he told himself, his horns drooping sadly. “I hope!”

  “Arx!” Jodril came thumping into the room. She looked as worried and glum as he felt. “I’ve just come from the Data Room. I was searching for any other sightings of that approaching ship – but I stumbled on something else.” She stretched out her long neck until her head was down by Arx’s ear.

  “Guess what. Speck did spot the flying saucer picked up by that triceratops scout ship. He logged the sighting himself.”

  Arx gasped. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” said Jodril. “He was on watch at the time.”

  “Then why didn’t he tell anyone?” wondered Arx. “What is this mysterious saucer? Where did it come from?”

  “I don’t know,” said Jodril. “But judging by its speed and direction, I think it came right here – a couple of weeks ago!”

  “To Outpost Q?” Arx felt his bones tingle. “Speck has been lying to us. Where is he now?”

  “Still in the Star Chart Library,” said Jodril.

  Arx called Security Chief Alass on his wrist-communicator. “Arx to Alass. Meet me at the Star Chart Library as soon as you can.”

  “Something to do at last!” the ankylosaur boomed. “See you in a minute, sir.”

  Jodril followed Arx, and they both found Alass waiting outside the locked library door. Arx banged on it with his horns.

  “Open up, Speck,” he called. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” When there was no reply, he turned to Alass. “I’ll charge the door, you whack it with your tail. Ready?”

  Alass nodded hopefully. “One . . . two . . .”

  “Three!” Arx head-butted the door just as Alass smashed it with her bony club of a tail. The door groaned open to reveal only blackness on the other side.

  “Speck?” Arx called, venturing into the darkness with Alass.

  Then the ankylosaur screamed. Arx turned and glimpsed something huge and dark swooping down towards him.

  Then he saw nothing at all . . .

  Chapter Seven

  FROM DANGER TO WHERE . . .?

  On board Shuttle Delta, Teggs was desperately trying to block the holes in the door. But it was no good – Fangal’s claws had left the shuttle’s sides with more perforations than a swamp-teabag.

  Iggy was choking for breath. “It’s no good, Captain!”

  “We’ve lost too much air already,” Gipsy groaned.

  “No!” Teggs felt his head start to spin. “It can’t end like this!”

  “Eeep.” Sprite pointed through the windscreen to the red ship. A huge hatch was opening in its front like a mouth. As the shuttle drifted inside, the hatchway closed again.

  This ship has taken us into its loading bay, Teggs realized. Where there’s air! He took a deep, thankful breath as his head stopped spinning – but then he frowned.

  Who was on board this vessel? Had they meant to save the astrosaurs – or were their motives more sinister?

  Fangal roared, still clawing furiously at the shuttle’s mangled doors. “No, you don’t!” cried Teggs. “Damaging DSS property is a serious offence!” He lowered his armoured head and charged at the doors, smashing them open with such force that they fell off! Then he jumped on top of them, squashing the big cat underneath with all eight tons of his enormous bulk. She struggled, hissing and snarling, and Teggs felt like a surfer trying to ride the wildest wave ever.

  “Guys,” he called back into the shuttle. “Wake up, quickly. I don’t know where we are, but I can’t hold Fangal for long.” The sabre-tooth snarled and grunted, almost as if trying to speak. “If we stick around here, this wildcat will whip our butts, big time!”

  Still sporting his stun-claws, Iggy staggered out of the shuttle and Gipsy followed with Sprite in her arms. The loading bay was bare and black. A single red doorway stood open, the only exit.

  “There’s nowhere else to go,” said Gipsy weakly. “We’ll have to risk it.”

  Once his friends were through, Teggs leaped away and galloped after them into another loading bay, large and empty. He glanced behind him and saw Fangal crawling out from under the doors, completely unharmed. There seemed to be a desperate edge to her roaring now . . .

  The red bay door slammed shut, trapping her outside – for the time being at least. But then a noise behind them made the astrosaurs turn . . .

  Teggs gulped when he saw that six towering carnivores had entered the second loading bay. They had big teeth. Their claws were as long as garden shears and ten times as sharp.

  “Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire.” Iggy groaned. “This ship must belong to meat-eaters.”

  “Erp,” Sprite agreed.

  “Dryptosaurus by the look of them,” said Gipsy.

  Teggs nodded. “Like Alson, the Jurassic Explorer.”

  “Well, well,” hissed the biggest dryptosaurus, tapping its terrible claws together. “Plant-eaters! What a stroke of luck – when we’re so hungry . . .”

  Slowly, the drooling monsters began to close in. Teggs waved his armoured tail in warning and his crew braced themselves for combat . . .

  But then the biggest carnivore bowed.

  “Hello. My name’s Wettus. This is Mrs Wettus, and these are our four children, Wet, Witt, Wutt and
Wotnot.”

  “Cooeee!” The family waved shyly.

  “Er . . . I’m Teggs,” said Teggs. “This is Iggy, Gipsy and Sprite.”

  “Nice to meet you. Even nicer to vegetable you!” Wettus gave a hopeful smile. “Got any yummy plants on you then, my leaf-noshing friends? Any fresh ferns? Any carrots at all?”

  “Am I going space crazy?” Iggy scratched his head. “I mean, you are meat-eaters, right?”

  “Most dryptosaurus are,” Wettus agreed, “but my family and I hate meat! We much prefer veggie food, just as my great-great-great-great-granddad Alson did.”

  “Alson?” Gipsy gasped. “As in, Alson the Deputy Leader of the Lightning Bolt?”

  “That’s him!” said Wettus cheerily. “Alson loved noshing plants – which is why he loved sharing a ship with veggie explorers.”

  “Do you have any food? It’s been a very long journey.” Mrs Wettus gestured round at the empty loading bay. “As you can see, our supplies have all gone.”

  “We’ve had to make a single bean last all six of us for a week!” young Wet complained.

  Teggs could hardly believe what he was hearing – but the dryptosaurus seemed sincere. “Our ship, the Sauropod, has loads of food,” he said. “Do you know where it’s gone?”

  “Oh, it’s just outside,” said Wettus brightly. “I’m afraid our communicator’s on the blink. It’s jamming local frequencies so we can’t send or receive messages.”

  “And neither can any other craft in the area,” Gipsy realized. “Dactil must be super-worried.”

  “You must let us fix the fault,” said Iggy as a familiar banging and scratching started up from behind the storehouse doors. “Before that sabre-tooth gets through.”

  “Sabre-tooth?” said Wettus nervously. “That’s a fanged animal, isn’t it? Must be what my granddad Alson was talking about in the Lightning Bolt’s last message.”

  “We think so,” said Teggs.

  “There are loads of them on board that old crate,” said Iggy.

  But then the scratching stopped – and a sad whining and whimpering started up.

  Gipsy frowned. “What’s wrong with her all of a sudden?”

  “It sounds like she’s crying,” said Wotnot. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” said Teggs. “This mystery keeps getting deeper. But first things first – we must fix your communicator and let Dactil know we’re OK.” He turned to Wettus. “Take us to your flight deck – and on the way you can tell us what you’re all doing here.”

  “We’re searching space for our long-lost great-great-great-great-grandfather’s ship, of course!” Wettus and his family scuttled quickly through their bare and gloomy craft. “Tyrannosaurs mocked us because of our plant-munching ways. They drove us from our home on Bloodcrunch Four with their jibes and jokes.”

  “But no one laughed at Alson,” said Wutt, “because he was a famous Jurassic Explorer.”

  “So now we’re explorers too!” cheered Wotnot.

  “Very hungry ones,” grumbled Witt.

  “If we can only find the fanged beasts’ terrible weapons that Alson spoke of, we can take them to our ruler, King Drypto,” said Wettus.

  Mrs Wettus nodded. “He’ll reward us well and then no one will laugh at us any more.”

  “Well, we didn’t see any weapons on board that ship,” Teggs told her. “And anyway – isn’t there enough fighting between carnivores and plant-eaters as it is?”

  Wettus shrugged. “I suppose so . . .” He led the way into a roomy flight deck, as bare and dark as the rest of the ship.

  Iggy rushed to the communicator and soon found the fault. “There’s fluff in the main sprockets.”

  Sprite used his delicate beak to pull the fluff clear, and at once an angry cheeping echoed from the black ship’s speakers.

  “That’s Dactil’s voice,” said Gipsy. “He’s going nuts with worry.”

  “Dactil, this is your captain,” said Teggs quickly. “We’re all fine. Please point our space-magnets at the Lightning Bolt and tow it back to Outpost Q. We’ll follow on in this spaceship. Don’t worry, it’s friendly – I hope.” He glanced back at Wettus, who was smiling and nodding and pointing to his tum. “Oh, yes,” Teggs added. “Can you send over some fresh plant stew? You’ll have to use Loading Bay Two because we’ve got a crying sabre-toothed cat in Bay One.”

  For a few moments, Dactil was speechless. “Chi-chi,” he said at last.

  “You’re absolutely right,” Gipsy agreed. “It has been one of those days!”

  The moment the Sauropod’s food parcel arrived in Loading Bay Two, Wettus and his family tore it open and gorged on grass and stew.

  Normally, Teggs would have joined them, but right now he had lost his appetite.

  Arx and Alass weren’t answering his calls. Outpost Q was as silent as space.

  While Sprite kept trying to get through, Teggs, Gipsy and Arx went to check on the sabre-tooth.

  They didn’t have to worry about getting lost on the dryptosaurus ship – they just followed the sound of Wettus and his family chomping and slobbering! Their merry chewing drowned out the mournful mewing of Fangal in Bay One, still on the other side of the door.

  “She almost tore her way through the side of our shuttle,” Gipsy remembered. “I wonder why she’s so quiet now.”

  “Probably worn out,” said Wettus, gulping down ferns.

  “Alson?” came a gruff yowl.

  Iggy blinked. “Who said that?”

  “Is it you? It smells like you, Alson.” The growl grew louder. “Let me in! It’s Fangal!”

  Teggs gasped. “I don’t believe it. The sabre-tooth can talk dinosaur!”

  “I’m Wettus – Alson was my great-great-great-great-grandfather.” The dryptosaurus turned to the door excitedly. “Tell me about the terrible weapons he spoke of! Where are they?”

  “Most are still on board the Lightning Bolt,” Fangal said sadly. “But one is here on your ship.”

  Teggs felt prickles go down his tail. “Of course,” he breathed. “The sabre-tooths are indestructible. They don’t need air. They never age, and they can shred metal and flesh as though it was paper.” He glared at Wettus. “There are your terrible weapons – the cats themselves!”

  Chapter Eight

  HIDDEN MENACE

  “Please, let me in, offspring of Alson!” Fangal said through the door. “I will do no harm.”

  Wettus gulped. “Can we trust her?”

  “Yes.” Gipsy nodded slowly. “Somehow, I just know she’s telling the truth.” “Well, you’re the expert in communicating,” said Teggs. “All right, Iggy – open the door.”

  Keeping his stun-claws at the ready, Iggy hit the red button beside the door to Loading Bay One. It slid open – and Fangal came inside.

  Ignoring the astrosaurs, she bowed down to Wettus.

  “Golly!” said Wettus, wiping stew from his lips. “Er . . . whatever are you doing?”

  “Your ancestor Alson was a dear friend of mine,” Fangal purred. “I bow to you in honour of his memory.”

  “Wait a sec,” said Teggs. “Alson was your friend? But we thought you attacked the Lightning Bolt.”

  “Not us.” Fangal shook her shaggy head. “We sabre-tooths were created by war-like aliens called the Battalasks. They bred us to be an army of perfect killers.” She sighed. “But at heart we are peaceful animals. We don’t want to be used as weapons.”

  “How did you end up with the Jurassic Explorers?” asked Gipsy.

  “The Lightning Bolt passed the battle-planet where we were being trained. The Explorers found us and helped us escape.” Fangal growled as if at a bad memory. “The Battalasks were angry. They chased the Explorers through space, trying to recapture us. And they have kept hunting for us ever since.”

  “These Battalasks,” said Teggs. “Would they have giant fangs?”

  “Fangs down to their feet,” the sabre-tooth agreed. “Far bigger than my own.”

  “Then that mak
es sense of Alson’s garbled message,” Teggs realized. “It was the Battalasks attacking the Lightning Bolt, trying to get the sabre-tooths – who were already on board!”

  Fangal nodded. “The Explorers couldn’t risk returning to Dinosaur Space, in case the Battalasks followed them and waged war against your kind.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell us all this when we came on board?” asked Iggy. “Why did you pretend to be savage animals and attack us?”

  “We wanted to scare you away,” Fangal admitted. “If you took us into Dinosaur Space, the Battalasks might follow, and Alson’s worst fears would come true.” She purred at Wettus. “Alson was my friend. He died peacefully of old age two hundred years ago, and never stopped caring for us sabre-tooths. He even wired the ship to run on electricity instead of dung, since we do not produce it.”

  “You never poo?” Iggy marvelled.

  “After hearing that story, I need to go right now!” said Wotnot, and his brothers chased after him to the ship’s toilet.

  “Just think,” said Gipsy. “If it wasn’t for the Megascope, we would never have spotted the Lightning Bolt, and Fangal and her friends would have simply passed us by.”

  “Are my fellow sabre-tooths still safe on board the Lightning Bolt?” Fangal asked eagerly.

  “Yes,” Teggs confirmed. “But you will all have to come into Dinosaur Space now. With the Lightning Bolt’s power down there’s nowhere else you can go.”

  “But don’t worry,” Gipsy added. “The DSS will help you.”

  Teggs smiled to see ahead of them a familiar cube with a huge tube sticking out of it. “And there’s Outpost Q. We should arrive within the hour!”

  Sure enough, fifty-five minutes later, Teggs, Iggy, Gipsy and Sprite – as well as Wettus and Fangal – were squeezed into the Sauropod’s Shuttle Delta on their way to Outpost Q. Iggy had fixed the broken doors so they were airtight once again.

  “Chief Spotter Speck will get a shock when he sees who we’ve brought with us,” remarked Gipsy as Sprite steered them closer.

  “It would be nice to let him know in advance,” said Teggs, “but there’s still no one answering Outpost Q’s communicator. I hope Arx and Alass are all right.” He consoled himself with the thought that the three shuttles he’d left defending the outpost were still on patrol as normal. Their dimorphodon crews had reported no spaceship sightings – nothing out of the ordinary at all.