Crucible of a Species (33 page)

Flowing waters danced in the sunlight of the world outside of that opening just inches from his face. The beckoning light passing through the raging waters encouraged him to push out a little bit further. There it was. He could see a small gap between the falling water and a vertical wall of stone on the outside. He was behind a waterfall all right, a big one. He could hear the powerful roar of the waters as they crashed unseen to the boulders at the bottom of this sheer cliff. It was a natural, deadly trap to try to push his way out onto the rocky face. The waters would rip him from the rocks and wash him off in an instant.

It was also the only way out of the cavern.

*~~*~~*~~*

Two figures walked six stories above
the ground on scaffolding made of bamboo. They followed the long, round upper curve of the Argos to a point below the edge of the pitch-black command bubble. Commander Thomas Dalmas took a CompuPen from his pocket and, turning it on, a photon net flew out from the pen, settled over a section of the fuselage to form into a virtual image of the ragged, outward tear in the silicon ceramic hull that had been there just yesterday.

Dalmas, Executive Officer of the Argos, turned to Lieutenant Alex Thrumbold, aide to Colonel Drake and began speaking with his back to the repairs. As he continued, the photon net slowly transformed. Smoothly, the rent in the ship’s skin appeared to heal and, as it did, a three-dimensional graph appeared plotting the Gravitonic field response of the ship’s skin across the repairs.

“Now watch the graph as the skin finally grows shut.” Dalmas almost pulled the lieutenant over as he turned to point up at the graphic. “We not only had to reform the damaged sections but then we regenerated a portion of the hull to complete the closure. I’m amazed the ship survived a blast that could dissolve the atomic bonds of crystalline silicon ceramic.

“Even the final patch isn’t optimum, we still lose field response in that area, enough to seriously degrade performance.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Lieutenant Alex Thrumbold mumbled as he shaded his eyes from the hard rays of the sun. “Dr. Shieve’s simulator pinpointed that response drop?”

The commander nodded, “Sgt Marshall plans to mount an ion implanter on it later this afternoon. The implanter will grow a few atomic layers of silicon ceramic onto the spot, realign the crystalline ceramic matrices and tune them to the localized field flow …”

“Whoa, slow down there Tom. I got it. You can fix it. There’s no need to go into the details. Okay, so now the hull’s almost ready. I thought this was gonna take us months.”

“It still is but Anderson wanted to patch the hole before we started on the interior. Inside-work will take most of the time and it’s critical to field balancing.

“We still have to clean out the damaged sections. The surface of the ship retains a skin effect to the drive field that makes it sensitive to the interior configuration. The way she is right now, we could lift her but could not achieve supralight speed. We’ll have to take into consideration everything, particularly the interior structures if we want optimal performance from her. It’s rather like balancing the load on an old-time sailing vessel.

“How about taking a break? I could use a cup of coffee.” Tom asked as they started down the scaffold.”

“Okay, but let’s swing past the colonel’s billet and see if he’ll join us.”

“Shh, did you hear that? Pulsar shots, follow me.”

The officers met the journalist as they ran towards the colonel’s billet on the west side of the plateau. The open sided tent was already crowded with marines coming and going.

“Alex, glad to see you. Commander Dalmas, where the hell is your rifle? Standing orders are no one travels outside the Argos without their rifle,” He shouted with one final snarl as he reached over his desk and grabbed a rifle. Glancing at a group just entering, his stare hesitated on Tom Bradley for a second while viciously chewing his cigar, “For God’s sake, even the journalist has sense enough to carry a decent weapon.”

“I’ve got my sidearm, Colonel.” The commander started defensively.

“And what are you going to do with that toy? Here, take this.

“Something’s happening up the peninsula. We just heard weapons fire and I sent out some runners to investigate. Goddamn, having to send runners out for everything is like going back two hundred years. I never realized how frustrating and blind you feel without communications.”

A second salvo of shots echoed across the jungle followed soon by a third that didn’t seem to want to quit. “Those are from a different part of the plateau.” Gunnery Sergeant Frank Marshall announced as he stomped into the tent with an SMG, SMart Grenade launcher, cradled in his arms. A big smile grew out around Drake’s cigar, “I’m glad to see somebody has sense enough to bring a real weapon. I don’t know how you managed to get here so fast Gunny, but it’s good to see you. I’m gonna turn you right around. Grab anyone you can and get back to camp and setup a perimeter.

“Commander, you organize the naval personnel. Have them move as many of the civilians as possible inside the Argos. Oh, and tell them if I see anyone carrying less than a Pulsar, I’ll shoot them myself and that goes double for you.

“Alex, come with me, we’re headed for the berm. Mr. Bradley you come with us.”

*~~*~~*~~*

The female tyrannosaurus
led the predator pack for many years. She defended her position against all comers and their pack had prospered. There were now eight adult and six juvenile tyrannosaurids in the group, a fierce predator species that later-day paleontologists would classify as Albertosaurs. These hunters were at the apex of the predator chain in this era and were slightly smaller but looked very much like the famous Tyrannosaurus Rex who would appear in future millennia.

The pack was a small one but under the female’s leadership, it was growing in number. Paleontologists first discovered that these large predators formed hunting packs when they uncovered a preserved field of albertosaur bones in Alberta, Canada. Those fossils contained the remains of a predator pack with twenty-two such individuals ranging from juveniles to full-grown, thirty-six foot long, three-ton monsters, each larger than a school bus.

This mature female albertosaurus had a light feather-like down coating across most of its body that shifted color as it crossed from the bright open field into the subdued light of the forest. Deep blue eyes in a glistening, black head constantly watched the surrounding woods as they advanced on unfamiliar paths.

Several of the males in the pack sported a small red comb of feathers on their heads and throats that had become more vivid as their excitement grew. They were masters of the hunt and, although the largest stood more than twenty-feet tall, they moved through the forest in deadly silence.

The female could not concentrate on the excitement of the chase. Like many other predators here, she was nervous as she led them forward for it is the nature of pack hunters to jealously protect and defend their hunting grounds. Today, she and her pack were not on their hunting grounds. She had sensed the markers as they passed the edge of the peninsula. They were markers that cried out the warning. This land belonged to others who would not tolerate the challenge of outsiders.

The mainland bordering this peninsula churned with the scent of many such predator packs. Their arrival was a response to a challenge strong enough to overcome their reluctance to cross over grounds claimed by other packs. Frustration grew in the animals with each day as the deadly AutoSentinels of the berm prevented them from answering that challenge. Then, suddenly a section of the barrier was gone and they had followed through the gap and into this strange, long finger of land. Now that they were here, everything changed. Unknown death still surrounded them but the infuriating sounds and strange lights were less painful.

The tyrannosaur’s left jaw ached as it prowled forward. A forgotten, minor tussle with one of the aggressive younger ones resulted in three holes in the bone, each as wide as a human’s thumb. The wounds surrounding one broken tooth, still lodged beneath her eye, gradually became infected. The infection would eventually degrade the eyesight on that side of her head.

Her right arm had healed but it no longer moved properly. It had been broken during an attack on an injured three-horned ceratopsians, an ancestor of the famed triceratops of later years. In spite of all these injuries, this tyrannosaur maintained her position as leader of the pack.

Strange sounds and small animals filled the woods ahead. Silent as the passage of a light breeze, the pack glided through the thick trees, moving closer to what promised to be a herd of grass eaters. Occasionally the adults would stretch their heads high into and above the treetops for they hunted by sight as much as scent. It was from a slight rise in the forest floor that she had her first glimpse of the source of the sounds ahead of her pack and, as expected, their quarry lay in a clearing filled with high grass.

In seconds, the entire pack of hunters knew what they were to do. The faster, more mobile youngsters instinctively pushed forward then turned to circle beyond the open field of the prey they could now clearly smell. The older, larger animals moved into the low bushes edging one side of the woods. They advanced slowly in a line through the woodland and waited, giving the youngsters time to do their job.

Unsuspecting prey clustered around a far section of the open field as the young predators silently encircled them. It was a herd of small animals, most of them only as tall as the youngest of the juvenile pack. The blood of the albertosaurs pumped quickly through their bodies in anticipation of what was to come. Despite the strange musky scent covering the field, the predators sensed fear. It made the hunter’s hearts pound in excitement and caused their legs and arms to ache from the heat of the burning oxygen that entered directly into straining muscles from highly efficient, turbo-charged cardiovascular systems.

Only the discipline of the pack held these eager young hunters back from charging blindly into the herd. Even as youngsters, they knew such actions resulted in the harvesting of only one or two of their prey and usually meant instant death for the guilty juvenile at the whim of any adult. The objective with small animals such as these was to take the entire herd.

They would drive the prey, forcing them to the far side of the field and into the woods where lay the waiting adults.

*~~*~~*~~*

Dr. Sandra Shieve
and systems programmer Venu Velanki were nearly at the breakfast tent when rifle fire erupted in the distance. “Yes, I have heard them too,” Venu answered the unspoken question as Sandra turned and looked at him. “It can’t be serious with only one or two shots fired.” Sandra commented. “Come on. I’m hungry and still tired from yesterday.”

A gravel-strewn path from the Argos to the dining tent had widened from use by the number of people now eating outside since they erected the climate-controlled facilities. Sandra thought the camp was rather park-like with small islands of trees still dotting the original sections of the meadow.

The physicist watched two large butterflies flitting from one delicate flower to the next along their path that skirted the edge of the forest. The sounds of bird and dinosaur-song filled the air, mixed with the occasional rolling grumbles of larger dinosaurs down in the valley. As they walked, small but very noisy bird-like flightless dinosaurs ran through the brush and open areas chasing bugs and other, even smaller, dinosaurs and reptiles. The fields were full of these small predators and the humans tread carefully for fear of tripping on fleet-footed, little creatures with no fear of humans.

Open tent-like structures, capable of holding more than four hundred people, provided sun-sheltered facilities allowing fresh air to pass through their walls. As the air entered, the tent walls cooled the gas and pulled out some of the humidity providing a comfortable environment. Here they could eat their meals protected from bugs and the sun while retaining the feel of being outside complete with a comfortable breeze and all the smells and sounds of the beautiful valley.

Ahead of Sandra and Venu the path turned towards the dining area. They were within sight of the larger clearing when Venu stopped and stared into the trees. Sandra halted a few paces further on wondering what the programmer was doing. It was then she noticed the surrounding jungle had grown quiet. All the smaller animals were also gone.

“Venu, what’s …?”

“Shh, something is out there.”

“Of course there’s something out there. The place is full of life.”

“I tell you, I saw something big in the woods. Right over there.”

Dr. Shieve walked back to look where Venu was pointing. The memories of the previous day were still fresh in her mind and she was beginning to feel a little uneasy.

“Most likely you just saw a ricardoestesia.”

“No, Sandra, skinny it was not. It had more bulk to it.”

“I don’t see anything …”

“Can’t you feel it? Something is wrong,” Venu shouted as he turned and began tugging at her sleeve. “Let’s get over with the others. Come, Sandra. Listen to me, it’s time to go.”

Dr. Shieve thought she saw something from the corner of her eye. It was just a movement and then it was gone but the icy feeling running down her spine remained. Venu was already moving way. Sandra hurried to catch up to him.

The loud snap of a stick, leaves rustling along with the sharp, sustained crack of distant rifle shots transformed their fast gate into an all-out run. A vibrant call filled the forest and it rumbled through the air of the camp sounding like marbles rolling around in the bottom of a steel drum.