Crucible of a Species (24 page)

Sergeant Martel immediately went down on one knee, raising his left hand into a balled fist. Then, remembering that he was with two civilians, he turned and began to motion for them to get down but was surprised to see both Dr. Shieve and the journalist properly waiting and ready.

“Nice, that’s more than I expected,” he said in a half whisper. “We need to pull back quiet and slow. We’ll head around the edge of the clearing and see if …”

“Sergeant, I don’t believe you’ll need to do that.” Dr. Shieve’s whisper interrupted. “They won’t think of us as a threat since they’ve never seen humans before. We should be able to walk right up to them.”

“Ma’am, I see where you’re going with this but they will see you as a threat and it don’t matter none that they have never seen a human before. As I understand it, these are herd animals. Our equivalent to them is a cow or, in the case of those big fellows standing around the edge of the herd with their heads up in the air on guard duty, a bull. Now, would you like to walk across a big open field like that into a bunch of nervous bulls that are as big those guys?”

“No, I guess I wouldn’t.”

“Since that’s settled let’s work on getting in a bit closer to the herd so we can sort out potential targets. Once again, we’ll take the long way around and stay behind the cover of the thicker brush on the edges of the meadow. We’re gonna head over to that low ridgeline of rocks jutting out from the woods, from there we should be able to follow behind it out into the meadow without them seeing us.”

It took the team a half hour of careful travel to position themselves next to the rocky spur. The grounds were swampy and pungent with the smell of decaying grass, their boots occasionally sinking into the mud. They were all tired as they approached the section of the dry rocky ridge that extended from the heavily wooded area out into the field.

“Everyone just sit tight for a few minutes and no chatter,” Sgt. Martel whispered to the group. “I’m gonna check out the field and see if the herd has moved. Remember, we aren’t in central park. Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouths shut.”

The sergeant carefully moved from boulder to boulder avoiding the soft ground and sticks that lined the swampy floor. Scrub trees and brambles grew thicker at the edge of the sunlight meadow and passing through them without attracting the attention of the herd slowed him even more. Legs aching and shoulders cramped, he pushed through to the edge of the barrier and sat there without rushing out into the open field.

Martel reached down to pull his binoculars from the leg pocket of his cargo suit without taking his eyes from the field. He was about to put them up to his eyes when he saw it and the marine froze every muscle in his body. A young hadrosaur stood motionless less than a hundred feet away.

It stared directly into his eyes.

That damned hadrosaur hasn’t moved a muscle,
Sergeant Steve Martel cursed as another annoying drop of sweat rolled down the side of his head. The main herd of grass-eaters was out of sight, situated behind a low ridge of boulders that the sergeant originally hoped would hide his approach. Martel had just entered the dense line of bushes along the edge of the open field when he was surprised to see the dinosaur sentinel standing dangerously close and staring directly at him. The situation instantly became a waiting game.

He’d played this game before and the worst part of it was always the damn flies buzzing around his head.

It must not be sure I’m a threat or it would have warned the herd. Have to wait it out and the loser blinks first.

Then again, how’s it gonna react if it thought I was a threat? Charge me? Damn things are fast. Maybe it would just charge and threaten like a wild bison? Of course, one solution would be to simply drop the thing right where it stands and we have our meat sample. Yeah, at this point I like that. No waiting. That would be the easy, clean and simple solution.

No, the Doc wouldn’t like that. Damn thing looks to be as healthy as a bull and three times as big. Maybe …

No, Doc Shieve made it clear she wants one of the smaller, injured ones. I had to go and shoot off my mouth about how the younger ones provide better meat.

So, what are you gonna do, Martel? Can’t afford to take the chance of spooking the herd, you’ve gotta do something. We’ve already used up more of the daylight hours than we can afford.

Beads of sweat tickled as they ran down the side of the sergeant’s face and they were drawing flies and gnats. The sergeant sat there unmoving, his mind focused on one particular gnat who was taking its good old time as it stomped across the back of his neck looking for the next tender spot to sink its fangs into.

A realization slowly came upon him that sitting perched on top of this boulder may not be the best position in which to perch for an extended period. Of course, he hadn’t had much choice in selecting where to put his butt but the rocks smooth surface was quickly becoming painful as the unforgiving piece of granite dug into his hipbone.
Shit, wonder if my legs are still there, can’t feel …

The hadrosaur’s head twitched to the side and the animal left out a soft bleat before snapping back to look directly at the marine. A silent curse ran through Sergeant Martel’s mind as he realized he’d lost his chance to disappear back into the brush.

He could hear movement through the grass off to his left and it was from the direction that the dinosaur had turned its head. The movement was slow, careful and unfortunately coming directly towards him.

The hadrosaur was back to staring directly at him and he would know in a moment what was coming his way. Martel carefully moved his hand down to his sidearm and unlatched the holster. He knew he wouldn’t be able to lift the Pulsar fast enough in these bushes. Slowly his hand gripped the pistol just as his peripheral vision registered the first movement in the weeds.

A head as large as the marine’s, with a multicolored muzzle and long, deadly looking canines pushed through the grass. It emerged so close that he could see the soft yellow down around its muzzle puffing in and then outward as it sniffed the air. One or two inquisitive sniffs and the eyes turned to look directly at him. They were black, intelligent eyes placed forward on the skull, designed to provide the three dimensional vision of a predator.

The animal seemed puzzled at first. Slowly, hesitantly it moved closer. The grass parted revealing yellow and black strands of thick hair-like bristles stiffly hanging from its head. He recognized it instantly as one of the pegomastax dinosaurs that they had seen with the herd. A strange question ran through his mind,
Could the hadrosaur and this monster actually be working together?

That little dinosaur they had watched during the tyrannosaurus attack on the hadrosaur herd looked so small compared to the other dinosaurs. Now, little more than an arm’s length away, this one seemed huge. Standing upright, it would easily be as tall as his six-foot-four frame and much heavier. Cautiously it moved forward. The predator was so close he could hear the spines on its back softly swish as they shifted with each approaching step.

He had already seen how quickly these dinosaurs could move. Would he be fast enough?

Sergeant Martel unholstered his pistol and smoothly brought it to bear on the dinosaur. The beast sat back in response to his unexpected movement, trying to understand what was here in the bushes.

Never smelled anything quite like me, huh? Well, what the hell?
The sergeant thought as he slowly turned his head and looked directly at the strange creature that now stood within his arm’s reach. Startled, it backed off another half step and slowly stood upright, cocking its head to the side. Martel decided to take a chance. His words came out in a soft tone as though he was intimately talking to his lover, “Okay, you found me. Now what are you gonna do?”

An Adam’s apple-like bulb in its throat wobbled as it replied in a low rolling ring that faintly tracked that of the human’s voice. It no longer seemed to be threatening, just curious. Apparently satisfied that this newcomer would not be a danger, the dinosaur backed off into the high grass. Then he saw it saunter out towards the hadrosaur that, unnoticed by the marine, had moved closer. The hadrosaur watched as the pegomastax returned to the open field and then dropped down onto all four feet, turned and began walking away.

Sergeant Martel put his pistol away and stood to let his aching body relax as circulation returned to his legs. He then moved out into the open grass, carefully keeping the low wall of boulders between himself and the dinosaur herd that was now less than a hundred yards off.

A soft rustle sounded in the brush behind him.
Shit, now what?
The marine cursed as he brought his Pulsar around and his back against the rock wall; Ensign Petrika’s scowling face emerged.

“Sorry, but I couldn’t wait any longer. We heard your voice and the dinosaur calls. I figured what was going to happen was already happening so I came up to see if you needed a hand.

“Everything’s just fine, Ensign. For all the trouble we went through, the sneaky bastards had a sentry who spotted me as soon as I got to the edge of the clearing. It was rather tense for a few moments but it looks like they’ve accepted us. We can have the others come out but I don’t recommend moving any closer than these rocks.”

As the sergeant finished, Dr. Shieve and the journalist appeared. A series of new calls rose from the unseen herd on the other side of the stones. The humans looked at each other in surprise and ran out into the meadow to a point where they could see the hadrosaurs. Their hearts sank as they saw the herd moving -- travelling down the open meadow away from them.

“Here we go again.” Bradley commented as he watched the herd moving off into the distance.

“Not necessarily.” Dr. Shieve pointed out across field where two dark forms lay in the grass. “They left two behind. I’ll bet they were too weak to continue, may even be dead.”

“Well, let’s go over and see,” the ensign said as he began walking out into the field. “This is what we were waiting for.”

Sergeant Martel stayed behind the group as the rest of his party crossed the meadow. He watched them move off for a few moments and then climbed on top of one of the boulders. Pulling his rifle off his shoulder, the sergeant began looking out across the tall, gently swaying grass.

“The bigger one is still alive,” Sandra shouted before rising to walk over to the other form lying in the field. “This small one is dead. It should do just fine, there’s more than enough meat here for us to carry.”

“You three go ahead and begin butchering,” Martel shouted and turned towards Ensign Petrika as he removed his backpack. “If you don’t mind, sir, I think someone should act as sentry. Here, catch.”

“Okay Sarge,” the ensign caught the backpack. Turning towards the others, he removed his own thermal pack and walked over towards the still form lying in the high grass. “I suggest we start with the breast and lower flanks. Also, take samples of the neck and forelimb muscles. Mark each packet so we can tell where each cut of meat was from. Then we’ll head over to that stream and clean-up before returning to base. Oh, and make sure the bags are switched on and set to cooling.”

While a full adult hadrosaur weighs more than a mid-sized automobile, even a young one can provide more meat than four people can carry. They quickly butchered the beast, Dr. Shieve was sealing the last bag when shots ripped across the meadow.

“We’ve got company.” Sergeant Martel called over to them. “There’s a pack of those scavengers moving in on us through the high grass.”

Tom Bradley stood upright, his arms covered in blood up to his elbows from the butchering. Two dinosaurs, each about the size of a human, had made the mistake of charging the sergeant and were now lying dead in the meadow. Bradley looked where Martel was pointing and glimpsed three more of the small predators stealthily pushing through the high grass towards the humans. These were troodons, most likely from the same vicious pack that had challenged the much larger tyrannosaurs during the feasting at the hadrosaur site.

“Let’s move out before the others decide to rush us,” Ensign Petrika called as he swung a pack filled with meat onto his back.

“Head upstream, these are the same waters that flow over the falls and they’ll lead back to the trail. Stay close together and follow me. Sergeant, you’re ‘tail-end Charlie’.”

They jogged across the meadow to the edge of the brook pausing briefly to wash the blood from their arms. They then followed the waters upstream towards the edge of the jungle’s tree line. Dense brush mixed with the low branches of the jungle’s trees, hung over the waters at the point where the stream entered into the forest. The transition of the stream into the woodland looked like a silvery road heading towards a green wall where it disappeared into a small, dark tunnel.

“Hold up, Ensign.” Martel called ahead. “We have at least three troodon behind us. Look at that trail ahead of you, where it passes into the forest. It’s a great place for an ambush. They could have us in a pinch by hiding in the thick undergrowth to hit us as we entered the bushes.”

“You think they’re smart enough to do that?” the journalist said while shifting his backpack to a more comfortable carry.

“Never underestimate your opponent, Mr. Bradley,” Martel returned as he pushed past the journalist. “From what I’ve seen so far, these guys are masters at stealth and pack hunting. I’ll be surprised if they don’t have something waiting for us.”

Ensign Petrika carefully examined the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing, “I can’t see anything in there. You’re the better shot, Martel, but I’m younger and can move faster. I’ll move up far enough to get a close look around. You cover me.”

“Not really happy about that sir, but alright.”

The ensign walked ahead, stopping as he neared the edge of the meadow. He tried to peer into the dark jungle. There was nothing there; nothing moved even when he threw a stick into the branches. Cautiously, he moved in closer. Martel called out to him, “Don’t go in right there, Ensign. That’s what they’re expecting. Move up parallel to the tree line about forty yards off. If anyone follows you, I’ll see it move.”

Petrika abruptly shifted his path. He hadn’t advanced more than twenty yards when the sharp crack of Pulsar rounds ripped the trees behind him. The young ensign swung around and saw half a dozen dark forms charging. A murderous call echoed like the piercing screech of rusty brakes. The ensign started firing at the nearest of the attackers but he knew there were too many coming at him.

Back in the field, Martel concentrated on the shadowy forms noisily charging through the thick brush towards the ensign. Bradley, the journalist with the unexpected range of talents, expertly directed his fire at those attacking from further down the jungle’s edge.

Dr. Shieve turned to scan the field behind them. The group of troodon that had been cautiously following them screamed at the top of their lungs as they raced across the open meadow towards the humans. She started firing wildly at the figures as they weaved this way and that while navigated the clumps of grass in the meadow.

Martel’s eye caught a sudden movement down the tree line behind the officer. One of the troodon had jumped so high it appeared to fly out of the bushes. It landed feet first on Ensign Petrika’s back, slamming him to the ground, its head arching down for the ensign’s neck. Martel fired two rapid shots into the troodon. The force of the rounds threw the animal back into the low grass before it was able to clamp its jaws on the helpless officer. Three other troodon that had been charging the ensign suddenly disappeared back into the woods. Petrika didn’t get up.

Martel jumped down from the boulder and charged across the rough meadow towards Petrika’s still form. He leaned over and was disheartened to see the amount of blood covering both the ensign and the surrounding grass. Kneeling down next to the unmoving officer while keeping a wary eye on the surrounding bushes, he ran his fingers down along Petrika’s neck. They found a pulse, a strong one.

Petrika was alive. The officer groaned without focusing his eyes on the marine, “Thanks Sarge.” His head turned to give Martel a weak smile and the sergeant noticed deep, bloody gouges on the young man’s shoulder. “What the hell hit me?” Petrika mumbled as he tried to get back up to his feet without using his damaged arm, “Sounded like a freight train flapping through the brush behind me. Felt like one too.”