by Piers Platt
“Are those dragons up there?” Vina asked.
“Yup,” Falken said. “They like to ride the updrafts that flow up the sides of the mountain. Helps them hear what’s going on down below.”
“This whole area is ‘the aerie’?” Shep asked.
“No,” Falken said. “You’re looking at Mount Olympus. The aerie is the crater right up at the top of the mountain. That’s where they nest, and care for their young. Down here’s where they hunt. And speaking of hunting …” Falken took one hand off the wheel and tapped on a multi-function display in the truck’s center console. A map of Mount Olympus appeared on the display.
“What are you looking for?” Raynard asked.
“Fauns,” Falken said, setting the truck into auto-pilot mode to focus his attention on the map. He panned around quickly, searching. “I’m tapping into an infrared feed from the Ecolympus, looking to see if we have any herds nearby.”
“If the dragons live here, why do the fauns even come near it?” Vina asked. “Why not just stay away from the mountain altogether?”
“Food,” Falken said. “The volcanic soil is some of the most fertile on the planet, and it grows the biggest, juiciest mushrooms around.” He spotted a heat signature on the map, and zoomed in. “Oh – here we go.” Falken tapped a button marked Reroute, and the truck changed directions automatically.
“Fauns?” Raynard asked.
“Not fauns – there’s a dragon on the ground already,” Falken said. “Could be a fresh kill. We’ll go see what we can see.”
“That looks like a landing pad,” Kuda said, pointing through the canopy to a wide concrete platform set near the base of the mountain in the distance. The pad was covered with a thick fence-like construction, and a metal docking tube protruded from the mountain, through the fence. Nearby, a bunker-like building sat embedded in the rock of the mountain.
“Yeah, that’s the research center,” Falken said. “It’s actually built into the mountain; most of it is underground, for safety. You’ll see small glass domes at random spots along the slopes of the mountain, too – those are observation bubbles, they connect via tunnel to the main research center. They even have an observation station all the way up in the aerie.”
“What’s with the fence and docking tube?” Shep asked.
“They’re just protective measures against the dragons,” Falken explained. “Dragons get very territorial, and they tend to attack anything airborne. That’s why this truck doesn’t go more than a few feet off the ground. When the resupply ship comes in every few weeks, the fence opens up to allow them to land, and then closes back up again to keep the dragons off while it’s on the ground. Then the supply crews and researchers can just pass through the docking tube to get inside the research center, without worrying about dragons or oxygen masks or anything.”
“Is the air breathable down here?” Raynard asked.
“There’s some oxygen in the atmosphere,” Falken said. “But it’s mostly carbon dioxide. So be glad your proxies don’t need to breathe in order to keep functioning. You’d be dead in minutes if you were down here for real.”
The truck crested a small rise, and in a wide clearing below, they saw a leathery form hunched over the ground, its wings tucked in alongside its body. The dragon’s head bobbed, and as they drew closer, they could see it was feeding on a dead faun. Falken took hold of the wheel, and eased the truck to a stop. A hush fell over the truck and its passengers.
“Female,” Falken said, speaking softly. “She must have just made that kill.”
In his rear view mirror, he saw Vina grimace, but she continued to watch, fascinated, as the dragon ate. Ed merely arched an eyebrow, peering past Falken to see the dragon. Behind them, Raynard had switched to video mode, and was holding the camera steady, zoomed in on the dragon. Shep and Kuda mimed a high-five in the back row.
“How big is she?” Vina asked.
“About twelve feet, nose-to-tail,” Falken guessed. “Juvenile still, but decent sized.”
The dragon tore a piece of flesh off of the faun’s rib cage, and then flicked the chunk up into the air, snapping it up greedily.
“How big can they get?” Shep asked.
Falken shrugged. “We don’t know for sure. Dragons never die of old age – that’s why the research here is so important. It could help us unlock the secret to human immortality. They live forever, and they kind of slow down, but they never really stop growing. The really big ones don’t hunt very often, they stay up in the aerie, mostly. The biggest I’ve seen was about thirty feet long. Maybe three times as big as this one.” Falken glanced up. “Heads up,” he said.
A shadow darkened the sun momentarily, and the guests gasped as another dragon flew close overhead, landing on the ground across from the first dragon with an audible thump. The first dragon reared back and hissed, eliciting a shriek in reply from the newcomer.
“Will they share?” Ed asked.
“No way,” Falken chuckled. “They’re gonna fight over it.”
Sure enough, the first dragon stepped forward, grasping the dead faun in both hind claws, covering it with its lanky body. The second dragon circled to one side, half-hopping, half-flying, and then snapped forward with its jaws, lightning-quick, drawing blood from the first dragon’s neck. The first dragon bit back, tearing a gash in the newcomer’s wing muscles.
“Dragon fight!” Shep exclaimed in a stage whisper.
Chapter 8
Falken stood up in his seat, leaning to see around the first dragon.
“Hang on guys, I’m going to swing us around so we can get a better view.” He slipped the truck into gear, and then edged slowly to the left.
The two dragons, roaring at each other, paid the truck no heed. But suddenly, another faun burst out of the undergrowth directly in front of the truck, where it had been hiding. It leapt high into the air, and both dragons’ heads snapped around, zeroing in on the new prey. The faun landed, sprinted forward several feet, and then launched into the air again. In a flash, the second dragon was airborne, and two quick flicks of its wings brought it even with the faun. Before the faun landed again, the dragon caught it in its hind claws, and broke the faun’s back with a business-like twist of its legs. Then it landed on top of the nearest rock column, cried out in triumph, and tucked in. The first dragon snorted, and turned back to its own meal.
Falken twisted in his seat, grinning. His passengers sat, open-mouthed, in awe of what they had just seen.
“A hunt, guys – it doesn’t get much better than that for your first dragon-sighting,” Falken said.
“That. Was. Awesome,” Raynard said, keeping his camera trained on the far dragon.
Vina nodded, a slow smile creeping across her face. “That was scary, but I gotta admit … it was pretty cool, too.”
“Yeah it was!” Kuda said.
Falken smiled. He glanced over and noted Ed frowning, and checking the time on his watch.
Are you bored, old man? What is your deal?
“Ah … so, yeah,” Falken said, turning back to the dragons. He cleared his throat. “Now you can see why these guys are the undisputed apex predators here on Olympus.”
A yell disturbed the quiet scene, and another truck burst through the mushrooms on the far side of the clearing. The truck was decorated with black and orange tiger stripes, and bore a sign saying Adrenaline Junkies in white lettering made to look like claw marks on the side of the truck. The truck was big – twice the size of the Ecolympus truck, with six tiers of seats and nearly two dozen tourists packed inside. Atop the truck’s clear canopy, a man wearing a tiger-striped safari hat stood, holding on to a seatbelt strap he had passed through the truck’s doorframe.
“Truck surfing, baby!” he shouted, flashing the “hang loose” symbol with his free hand and laughing along with his delighted passengers. He caught sight of the dragon in the clearing below a second later, and at the same moment, the truck’s auto-pilot jerked to the side to avoid crashing into
the dragon. The guide, caught unawares, flew forward off the roof, tumbling to the ground and rolling to a stop several feet in front of the dragon. The truck swerved again and braked hard to avoid a boulder in its path, but the auto-pilot over-corrected, and the whole truck tipped, and then fell over onto its side.
“Ah, shit,” Falken said. Quiss, you fucking grandstanding idiot.
The feeding dragon lifted its head from the faun’s carcass and focused its ears on the injured guide in front of it. Quiss slowly lifted himself off the ground, keeping his eyes on the dragon looming over him.
“Remember, guys,” Falken warned his guests, keeping his voice even. “They use proxies, too. That’s not really him – just an artificial copy.”
The Adrenaline Junkies guide spied Falken over the dragon’s shoulder, but the dragon whipped its tail around in a blur of speed a split second later. The blow struck the guide squarely in the chest, sending him flying across the clearing into the undercarriage of the overturned truck. The massive truck rocked noticeably from the impact.
“Ouch,” Kuda said.
Falken reached across the seat and grabbed a short staff with a leather strap. “Everyone sit tight,” he said.
“Where are you going?” Vina asked.
“Out there,” Falken growled. “I’m gonna try to get that truck flipped over, otherwise they’re all gonna be stuck here for a few hours until the Junkies can send another truck out to get them.”
“What about the dragons?” Ed asked.
“I see them,” Falken said. “If I don’t make it, don’t worry – as soon as my proxy loses connection, this truck will auto-pilot right back to the base camp. I’ll be waiting for you there, and we’ll just head back out again to finish the safari.”
Raynard half-stood in his seat. “Can I come?” he asked, pointing to his camera.
“Definitely not,” Falken said. “This only works if I go alone. No offense, but we both lose our proxies if you come outside.”
“Okay,” Raynard agreed.
Falken activated the staff with the push of a button, and then slung it over his back. The noise of him moving inside the driver’s compartment was suddenly muted, as if someone had turned the volume down. Falken saw his passengers’ confused expressions, and jerked a thumb at the stick.
“Noise cancellation staff,” he mouthed. Then he took a final look through the windshield, opened his door, and slipped outside.
In the clearing below, the first dragon had decided to ignore Quiss and the truck, and had returned to feeding on the faun. Falken looked toward where the second dragon had landed with its own prey, but the rock column was bare now. He frowned, and then peered upward into the sky.
All right, where’d you fly off to?
But the sky appeared empty, save for a few dragons still circling the warm air currents near the top of the mountain. Falken snuck toward the front of his truck, treading lightly. Above the reinforced steel bumper, he found the truck’s winch, its thick metal wire curled around a spool, ending in a heavy hook. Falken, wincing, carefully flipped a switch on the side of the winch to unlock the cable, and then lifted the hook free. The dragon stirred, shaking itself. Falken froze. But after a moment, it continued eating.
Falken held the hook in one hand, and slowly circled the outside of the clearing, keeping within the fringe of mushrooms whenever possible, and paying out the cable on the ground as he went. Across the clearing, Quiss lay face down, the truck tipped onto its left side. Falken could see the truck’s hoverfans still spinning noiselessly in their shrouds.
Falken moved as quickly as he dared, splitting his attention between the ground in front of him, the dragon in the clearing, and the sky. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the Adrenaline Junkies’ truck. He stretched up and slid the hook onto the truck’s running board, tugging on it gently to ensure it had a decent grip. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that the dragon was still eating, but he could see that very little meat remained on the faun – it would be finished soon.
And then it’ll come for Quiss.
Falken knelt next to his friend’s body and lifted him, turning him over. Quiss’ eyes flickered open. He looked at Falken and then grinned, before checking the dragon.
“I’m a dumbass,” he mouthed.
Falken rolled his eyes and nodded. He pointed at the hook, and the cable reaching back toward his own truck.
Quiss nodded. “Thanks.”
“You owe me,” Falken whispered.
He patted Quiss on the shoulder, and then snuck around the hood of the truck. The truck’s passengers spotted him immediately, and several pointed at him through the canopy – Falken could see their mouths working inside the noise-sealed interior. One of them started to clamber over the seats toward the door, but Falken gestured for him to stop. Falken pulled a marker out of his shirt pocket, then started writing on the canopy.
Stay there. Going to pull you right side up. Then truck goes back to base camp to pick up another Quiss.
Falken let them read it – he realized belatedly that the words were backwards, from their perspective.
Whatever. They’ll figure it out.
He held up a thumb, and several of the tourists gave him a thumbs-up in return. Falken knelt in front of the truck’s hood, activated the digital display on his wrist, and then accessed his own truck’s controls. Below him, the dragon swallowed a final morsel of meat, and then stretched its neck, sniffing in the direction of Quiss and the truck. Falken tapped on the control pad, and the winch began to spin, the cable slithering across the ground and then snapping up into the air.
The dragon snarled and whipped its head around, searching for the source of the sudden noises around the clearing. It jumped into the air, hovering uncertainly. Between the two trucks, the cable went taut, and next to Falken, the Adrenaline Junkies’ truck groaned, then began to slowly tilt over. But the winch caught, and Falken saw the truck begin to slide along the ground – there wasn’t enough of an angle on the cable to turn it upright again. Falken shook his head and reached under the truck, gripping the frame. Then he flexed the proxy’s formidable artificial muscles, and lifted. The Adrenaline Junkies truck lifted off the ground, and began to tip over.
The dragon leapt into the air, headed toward the sound of the winch on the Ecolympus truck, but when it heard the Adrenaline Junkies truck shifting against the ground, it hesitated, confused, twisting as its wings beat the air. Then the Adrenaline Junkies’ truck passed the tipping point, and Falken let go, allowing it to crash down to the ground. Falken was already running – he tapped his wrist, stopping the winch, and slid to the ground next to the Adrenaline Junkies’ running board, where the hook was still attached. He freed the hook in one motion, then glanced over his shoulder – the dragon was swooping in fast, claws outstretched.
Falken gripped the hook and tapped to activate the winch controls again, cranking the winch up to full speed. The cable yanked him forward, tugging him out of the way at the last second, as the dragon crashed into the side of the Adrenaline Junkies truck. Falken, hanging on tightly, was dragged quickly across the clearing, plowing blindly through the carpet of mushrooms along the ground for several frantic seconds. Then the winch stopped, and he realized he was back at his own truck. He leapt up, tugged the door open, and scrambled through it, slamming it behind him just as the second dragon landed on the truck’s clear canopy.
Vina screamed – the dragon had landed directly above her, and its large claws scrabbled for purchase ineffectually on the clear glass.
“Oh, fuck!” Shep shouted.
“We’re okay!” Falken yelled, but his words were muffled. He fumbled for the controls on his noise cancellation staff, and finally got it turned off. “We’re okay! We’re fine, he can’t get in,” he repeated.
The dragon roared in frustration, then rose back up into the air. Across the clearing, the Adrenaline Junkies truck disappeared back into the forest, heading for their base camp on auto-pilot. Th
e two dragons heard it set off, and appeared to be ready to give chase, when Quiss rose unsteadily from the ground below them and whistled loudly.
“Hey! Down here!” He waved an arm tiredly. “Come on. Main course is served, fellas.”
The two dragons pounced on him at nearly the same instant.
Chapter 9
Falken found Vina in the lounge, sipping from a cup of hot tea.
“You’re up early,” he observed. “Breakfast won’t be ready for another half hour or so.”
“I know,” she said.
“Want anything in the meantime?” he asked.
“No, thanks – I’m good. Greban already tried to give me some leftover dessert from last night. It was delicious, but I couldn’t … I’m more of a fruit and oatmeal kind of girl.”
Falken poured himself a mug of coffee and took a seat across from her at the large stone table. “Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
“Sorta,” she confessed. “The room’s great, I just … I never sleep well away from home.”
“Nervous about today? About getting out of the truck?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“You still don’t have to. You can just watch everyone else get hunted.”
“I’m scared,” Vina said. “But … not as much as I was yesterday. I guess I’m a little excited, too.”
“Good!” Falken said. “We’ll have fun.” He sipped at his coffee. “So you won this trip as part of a competition, but they only gave you one ticket? That’s kind of stingy.”
“No,” she said. “They gave me two tickets, I just didn’t know who to bring. I didn’t want to invite a friend and make my other friends mad, same thing with my coworkers … in the end I just decided to come on my own.”
“No brothers or sisters?” Falken asked.
