Dragonstar Destiny (10 page)

IT WAS A
surprisingly small contingent of humans and Saurians which gathered outside the main gate in the Mesozoic Preserve. Besides himself, Phineas counted Mishima Takamura, his old friend Becky Thalberg, Greg Krolczyk and Frank Cavoli from Tactical Engineering, and “the green-eyed monster” (one of Mikaela’s more endearing monikers), Kate Ennis. The Saurians were headed up by his co-worker in Salvage, Visigoth, and four slope-browed members of his warrior-caste—none of whom Phineas could recognize.

A wispy, ground-hugging mist swirled about them as they inventoried their gear. An early-dawn fog leaked from the edge of the jungle, sending finger-like streamers across the clearing, which formed a DMZ between the Barrier and the Mesozoic Preserve. The air hung damp and humid, and it would soon be oppressively warm—business as usual inside the
Dragonstar.
Phineas had never grown accustomed to the climate but he had long ago refused to let it bother him.

“All right, everyone,” said Dr. Takamura. He spoke slowly, pausing between each phrase or short sentence so that Visigoth’s digital translator could provide him with the gist of all conversation. “I do not expect trouble, but we should be prepared for anything. Colonel Kemp, Krolczyk and Cavoli, and of course the Saurians will handle any emergency encounters. The rest of us will fill in if necessary. Any questions?”

There were none. The briefing the previous evening had been extensive and god-awful boring. Phineas hoped that Takamura was a better physicist than he was a leader of men. The man lacked the character-dynamic, that ineluctable quality that made others look up to you and be willing to follow you into hell’s mouth. Takamura was too soft-spoken, too polite, simply too nice a fellow for any of that.

Phineas liked him, but he knew it might be difficult taking orders from him. Well, they’d be seeing what transpired along those lines soon enough.

As Dr. Takamura headed up the group and started leading them off into the jungle, Phineas waited until everyone had filed past so that he could take up his prearranged position as the rear-flanker. Using the opportunity, he studied each member of the group as they filed past him. All the humans wore standard-issue, khaki jump-fatigues with survival-paks on their backs. The doctor, Becky, and Kate carried additional bags of tools and instruments, and everyone carried a 9mm side arm with C-4 explosive hollow-points. Cavoli, Krolczyk, and Phineas also carried HK heavy assault rifles, plus plenty of spare clips in their utility bags. Phineas hadn’t seen anything in the Preserve that could stand up to a volley from an HK.

The Saurian Warriors were dressed in their usual scant attire: dull red tunics which ended at hip level, a bandolier-type belt across their broad chests, several dangling pouches of dried strips of meat, and a sheathed hunting blade. The Warriors wore no pants or leggings of any kind, probably because of their still-prominent, though vestigial, tails. Their sexual organs were kind of folded up and protected by scaled plates. Modesty wasn’t a word in their vocabulary, anyway. The Warriors’ weapons were simple, but surprisingly effective: each carried a heavy, pike-like spear and a devastatingly accurate crossbow, The bows could be loaded with either barbed shafts or
squaves
—tiny
sleek-bodied reptiles which the caste had trained centuries ago as “organic weapons.” The squaves sported pointy, hard-bone snouts and shark-like jaws full of tiny, razor-edged teeth. Phineas had seen the squaves impact their victims and then burrow into the flesh like ore drills. The lowest-ranking member of the Warrior contingent carried a large pack on his back filled with dormant squaves. It looked like a lousy job, but, as Phineas knew well, somebody had to do it.

The rest of the team was now moving single file through a copse of young redwoods and protofirs; Phineas fell in behind them. The Mesozoic forest thrummed and vibrated with the sounds of insect life. The low-level din was occasionally punctuated by the cries of beasts either eating or being eaten.

Directly in front of Phineas strode Visigoth, the large, very tall “General” of the warrior-caste. The leader was distinct from the others because of his bright yellow eyes, his immense size, and a helmet covered with the orange-and-yellow-striped hide of an allosaurus. Visigoth presented a rather fearsome image to all, and Phineas would not like to get the fellow upset.

They tramped through the green-shadowed world for more than an hour without incident, although Phineas was careful to keep a trained eye behind them. Most of the carnosaurs spent the morning and midday propped up against the bases of big trees, sleeping off the effects of a nocturnal kill and meal. Sometimes, the really big bastards would gorge themselves and remain torpid for days on end. But then there was always the chance that one of them hadn’t scored the night before and might be rampaging through the Preserve ready to eat anything that moved.

And Phineas had seen men minced in their steam-shovel jaws, or smeared into jelly beneath their hind claws.

Thoughts like that always reminded him of what a nightmare place the Mesozoic Preserve actually was. And that made him think of the
Dragonstar
itself, a monster-sized ship full of monsters, which, since its first appearance on the Copernicus Base instruments, had been like a curse on his very soul. When Phineas considered the facts,
very little
had gone right in his life since the alien artifact became a part of it. Everyone had crosses to bear, but why in hell did
his
have to be more than three hundred klicks long?

His thoughts idled about his mind as he kept a vigilant watch.

The team moved ahead with a deliberate, slow pace which was unavoidable when passing through the thick flora. Looking up the line, Phineas was somewhat surprised to find Becky waiting for him. She fell into step as he drew even with her, and he found her dark good looks as appealing and riveting as ever.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I never got the chance,” she said, followed by a sly, familiar grin.

“Exactly
why
I would volunteer for this hare-brained little trip, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “Although I wasn’t going to put it just like that.”

“Why not? It’s apt, isn’t it?” Phineas smiled, continued to scan the rear flank as he walked with her. He found himself wondering if she and Takamura were an “item” yet. He’d seen the way they looked at one another during the briefing, and even earlier this morning when they were assembling the group. He’d bet his ass they were getting it on. He also wondered why he was thinking such thoughts. Did he
still
care for Becky? Could she ever be “just a friend,” as she had once suggested?

Who the hell knew ... ?

“I guess so,” said Becky, “It’s just that, well, knowing you as well as I do, I can’t help but imagine that you might have some trouble doing things Mishima’s way.”

She used his first name. That probably meant something. But he quickly told
himself he didn’t really give a damn, and enacted a good “smile for the camera” kind of smile.

“I just had to get away from all that boy-scout crap,” he said firmly. “I wouldn’t make a good pioneer, Becky. And I can’t stand this
waiting.
Waiting for something to happen.”

“I know what you mean. You’d rather try and
make
something happen, wouldn’t you?”

The smile had left her face now, and she was analyzing him, as she had always done. Some people could never accept what you said at face value. They always had to search for the “real” meaning, and Becky belonged to their ranks.

“It’s funny,” he said, “but I have a feeling this little excursion’s going to be a bust.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “It’s just a feeling ... what can I say?”

“I’d better go back up the line. I’m probably distracting you.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” He chuckled and regarded her with a mock-leer. “All right. Talk to you later.”

She nodded and double-timed it up the line. As Phineas watched her ass bob and weave beneath her jump-fatigues, he noticed another face turned out of the line, looking back at him.

Angular features, dominated by large, sparkling green eyes, and framed by a coif of long curls, it was the face of Kate Ennis. She only glanced back for a moment, but it was long enough for her gaze to lock in with his own.

I’m watching you,
said her gaze.
I’ll always be watching you.

She turned away just as Phineas thought of flashing her a roguish smile, and it died on his lips. Mikaela had been spot on in her assessment of the NBC journalist. On one level, it made him feel good to be attractive to Kate, but on another, her interest just meant more complications in his life. And his life was complicated enough, and he had no idea how he might deal with this latest twist.

He followed the column as they cleared the heavy foliage of the forest and entered a prairie. It was punctuated by rising blades of rock, which gradually sloped down to a riverbank. The cave mouth, he recalled from the briefing, should be close at hand. Scanning the area, he saw a grazing herd of triceratopes, but they were far away and posed no threat to the group. Still, it would be a good idea to watch them. Any panicky movement from the herd might be an early warning that a predator was about.

Phineas remained alert as the group crossed the prairie and gathered at the edge of the stream. The dark entrance to the cave yawned in front of them.

“The floor slopes downward once you get inside,” said Takamura. “There’s some machinery—probably pumps for the water—and then it’s clear until we reach the catwalk. Are we ready?”

Everyone nodded. The Saurians shuffled their feet, snorted, and hissed a reply.

Takamura looked at Kate. “Do our friends have any problems? Any questions?”

“No,” said Kate. “If you want to know the truth, I think they’re itchy for some action ...”

Takamura seemed put off by her reply, but he forced a smile, anyway. “Well, I hope they don’t get their way,” he said stiffly. Then: “Okay, everybody ... let’s go.”

Phineas followed the entire file into the cave, now flooded with the beams of torchlights. The interior dirt and rock soon surrendered to a metallic flooring which ran past an array of machinery. It pulsed with a rhythmic, low-register
thunk-thunk.
The floor gradually sloped down to join a catwalk, or gangway, as Takamura had described it.

As everyone climbed upon it, Phineas tried to keep himself oriented. The group was headed toward the control-section of the ship, and, from the looks of the superstructure which surrounded them in the darkness, it appeared that Takamura’s observation had been correct. They were walking along a bulkhead, a pocket between the outer hull and the interior boundaries (actually, the
ground)
of the Mesozoic Preserve.

The almost total darkness of the bulkhead passage was broken up by small utility lamps spaced every thirty meters or so. Their dull amber glow cast long shadows across the burnished metal walls, imparting a spooky atmosphere to the place. The farther along the group trekked, the more agitated the Saurians seemed to be getting. Several times, both Kate and Visigoth were forced to stop and discuss the matter with the troops. The second instance ended with Visigoth suddenly smacking one of his charges alongside his head. Discipline was not much of a problem in the warrior-caste.

After exchanging a few words with Visigoth, Kate moved back to join Phineas. Her harried expression was something he had not seen much.

“Problems?” he asked.

“Maybe. They’re not exactly wild about walking down this narrow, dark passage. It’s very alien to them. Making them restless.” Kate looked at him with those big eyes as green as the sea. She had the eyes, no doubt about it.

“Well, you can’t blame them, can you?” he said. “They’re just a bunch of dumb grunts, and they’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“I know, but it scares me ...”

Phineas grinned. “Well, try looking at it their way: how would you like it if all of a sudden somebody took you down
beneath
your basement, and you found out that what you always thought was the good old solid Earth was really just a bunch of
stage props,
held together with some chewing gum and bailing wire?”

“You’re right,” said Kate. “It’s got to be more than unsettling. It’s probably got them terrified.”

“Of course it does. That’s why they’re hot for a fight. At least that would be something
familiar
to them.”

She sighed and glanced up at the Warriors as they trudged onward. “I guess I’m not being much help. It sounds like you understand their cultural problems a lot better than I do.”