DS02 Night of the Dragonstar (17 page)

“So did we,” Ian said. “But our shielding seemed to have handled it. What about you?”

Takamura cleared his throat. “I’m not sure. Our instruments seem to be operating, but our systems are getting overridden by some other command systems. It’s as though something is taking control of our equipment. What’s worse is that the original alien equipment
—
the stuff that’s been dead since we’ve been here
—
is starting to come to life.”

“What?” Ian said, feeling a lump form in his throat. “That’s right. Some of the other sections down here in the alien end are sealing themselves off. Colonel Kemp is ordering us to evacuate the lab and the alien crew section altogether. In fact, he’s the one who wanted me to contact you.”

“Where’s Kemp now?”

“Down at the temple entrance. He’s trying to set up some kind of barricades and defenses in case the Saurians decide to come up the steps. We’re also trying to salvage as much equipment as possible, but we need some help. There’s no telling how long we have before we lose control completely.”

“All right, Doctor, tell the Colonel I’m on my way.” Ian paused for a moment. “And if you ask me, I think you should all get out of the alien end of this thing ASAP. It sounds like this ship has a mind of its own, wouldn’t you say?”

“I hate to agree with you, but my answer is yes.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather take my chances with the Saurians and the dinosaurs than the alien technology. I think Kemp has the right idea.”

“We’ll be waiting for you, Captain.”

“That’s a roger. Coopersmith out.”

Flipping off his throat mike, Ian turned back to Sergeant Kinsey. “What’s the word from Copernicus? Have you been able to get through yet?”

“Negative, Captain. Whatever’s going on, we’ve lost all ship-to-ship status. We’re blind and deaf now. Totally isolated.”

“All right, Kinsey. Keep trying to raise somebody. I sure would like to find out what happened to those shuttles they were sending.”

“Maybe they couldn’t make it, sir. Maybe whatever it is that’s keeping signals from getting out is keeping their ships from getting in.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking along those lines myself. Well, carry on, Kinsey.”

“Totally isolated” sounded very ominous. Something crazy was going on. And it was obvious that this damn ship never had been dead, but only sleeping. Just waiting for the right dummies like us to blunder inside.

Ian grinned ironically as he signaled to Kinsey and left the communications bunker. Walking across the open area between the geodesic domes, he had the thought that somebody had finally built a better mousetrap.

* * *

“I’m all right, damn it. How many times do I have to tell you people that?”

Mikaela Lindstrom didn’t like to raise her voice, much less scream and rant and rave, but it seemed like the only way she was going to get any attention.

When the ornithopter brought her back to the survey camp, she was admittedly shaken up, and the crowd of assistants that swarmed all over her when she was carried down from the aircraft seemed to make her return even more dramatic than necessary. Before she could say anything, she had been overwhelmed by a chorus of voices offering advice and help and badgering her with ridiculous questions.

Suddenly, Rebecca Thalberg appeared on the scene and directed the mob to swoosh Mikaela off to sick bay.

And although Mikaela appreciated the attention she was getting from her staff and from Becky herself, she kept telling everybody that she really didn’t need to be sedated, that she really didn’t need to be stretched out in a bed. And when things had finally gotten to be too much, she had started screaming at all the would-be do-gooders.

Now they all stood there staring at her in shock and disbelief
—
Dr. Penovich and all their assistants, and of course Becky Thalberg herself.

“I think we get the message, Mikaela,” Becky said with a tentative smile on her face.

“All right.” Mikaela licked her lips nervously. “I’m sorry for yelling like that, but I just didn’t want everyone making such a fuss over me. I’m a big girl now, right?”

“Everybody was just worried, that’s all,” said Dr. Penovich.

“I understand that,” she said, sliding off the hospital bed and facing the small assembly. “But I assure you I’m okay. Now, why don’t you all get back to your posts. I’m sure we’re going to be needed to help out in some way.”

As everyone started reluctantly filing from the standard white room, Becky remained, waiting until everyone had left before speaking. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I guess I overreacted. But I’ll tell you, when they hauled you out of that ’thopter, you looked
terrible.”

They both laughed, relieving some of the tension. Mikaela was anxious to know what had been going on since she’d been confined to sick bay. Becky briefly recounted what little they had been able to discover by keeping in touch with Ian Coopersmith at the tactical base headquarters.

“I’m so glad so many were able to get to safety,” Mikaela said. “God, it was so horrible to be just hovering over that mess and not be able to do anything.”

“You were able to give them some air cover,” Becky said.

“That was thanks to Ginny Zabriskie. She’s a fine pilot, I’ll tell you. And to be honest, I was doing my best to just stay on the radio.” Mikaela paused to lick her lips again. She was getting extremely thirsty and moved to the sink to get a cup of water. “I keep seeing that crazy old man getting torn to pieces
—
that’s the worst part of it. I can’t get it out of my head.”

“You and two billion other people,” Becky said. “I never liked Neville, but I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

“Phineas simply adored old Neville. He must be extremely upset.”

Becky smiled. “I thought you’d have noticed by now that Phineas doesn’t get very upset about anything.”

Mikaela wondered: Did she detect some hostility beneath Becky’s warm tone of voice? It was possible that the woman still felt some real attachment to Phineas. Well, she thought, now was not the time to start trying to analyze her man’s ex-lover. Talk about doing crazy things ...

“Maybe you’re right, Becky.” She tried to ease out of the conversation.

That’s when the lights went out.

“Oh-oh,” Becky said. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Come on.” Knowing the contours of the base as well as anyone, Mikaela reached out and took Becky’s hand. It was surprising how absolutely dark it was within the geodesic dome, even though perhaps another hour of daylight still remained outside.

With Becky trailing along, she worked their way out of sick bay and down a connecting tube that led to the main laboratory. As they drew closer, Mikaela could hear the excited voices of her staff. “How could this happen?” she asked her companion as they moved along.

“I don’t know. You’re asking the wrong person about technical stuff. I wish Ian were here. He could tell you in a second.”

When they reached the main lab, Mikaela could see that several inventive assistants had fired up bunsen burners to provide a kind of eerie gaslight atmosphere to the lab.

“I think we should all make our way outside,” Mikaela said, “and see if we can get this straightened out.”

Without a word of protest, the small assemblage of scientists headed toward the outer door, which opened into a small courtyard flanked on all four sides by fairly large buildings, which the staff had come to call the quad. Opposite the main lab, across the quad, lay the physical plant, which housed the communications hut, and the generators for all their electrical needs. As Mikaela reached the quad, she could see two IASA staffers running toward them. She recognized the taller man as Chris George, the communications officer. The shorter one, a woman named Donna Sprinkle, was a member of the tactical unit assigned to protect the survey camp. Corporal Sprinkle was carrying an automatic rifle.

“What’s the problem, Corporal?” Mikaela asked as the pair stopped in front of them.

“I don’t know, Dr. Lindstrom. Power’s just gone.” Suddenly Mikaela understood. Why hadn’t she realized it till now? “Oh no,” she said softly, in an almost fearful whisper. “The force field.”

“That’s right,” the tactical soldier said. “And without it, we’re sitting ducks.”

Mikaela looked up at the darkening Illuminator and the growing dusk that saturated the vegetation with lush shades of green.

Darkness was feeding time.

THE ORNITHOPTER
lifted off its pad with a rocking, awkward, goony-bird kind of motion, which was typical of all aircraft of its type. Despite his inertia harness, Ian Coopersmith was tossed about in the shotgun seat like a sack of potatoes. He had never grown accustomed to being a passenger in a ’thopter, much preferring to pilot the aircraft himself, even though rank let him off the hook. He was a good pilot, and he trusted his own instincts better than anyone’s in the weird wind currents that existed within the closed cylinder of the Dragonstar.

Because of temperature gradients in the atmosphere of the sealed environment, and because the entire cylinder was rotating on its longitudinal axis, some very bizarre weather conditions were observed. It was not uncommon to encounter thermal pockets and wind vortices of such violent nature that conventional aircraft would be ripped apart by the turbulence.

It was discovered very quickly when exploring the Dragonstar that the birdlike ornithopter was the only aircraft that could safely maneuver within the immense, spinning environment. Knowing all this, however, did not make Ian feel any better about the flight. Zabriskie was constantly wrestling with the cybernetic controls, but she seemed to be an expert at it.

Looking down, Ian studied the terrain of the Mesozoic preserve, remembering what it had been like when he and Becky had been so rudely thrust into its Darwinian realities. It seemed so long ago, and yet it hadn’t been very long at all. The ’thopter passed over a swampy section that gradually filled a flood plain and formed a small lake. Long-necked Brontosaurus waded in water that only covered them halfway up their flanks. They were such ponderous beasts, such easy prey for carnivores, that they had learned to spend much of their time in the water, feeding on bulbous water plants and tubers that grew in the muddy bottoms.

It was odd, thought Ian, that the meat eaters shied away from the water as they did. If those boys had ever learned to swim, everybody else would have had some real problems on their hands
—
or should he say claws?

The lake passed beneath them, giving way to a vast plain that had been given the name of the Mordor Plateau. It was a fairly flat region with sparser vegetation and some unusual rock formations. The plateau rose gradually above sea level, giving way to a range of small but spectacularly sculpted mountains. It was incredible to think that the entire environment had been artificially created by a race of beings whose technology must be light-years beyond humankind’s understanding. To build an artificial world like the interior of the Dragonstar was a mind-boggling conception. To actually see it, and realize what had been accomplished, was a numbing experience
—
the mind refused to comprehend what the eyes recorded; it refused to accept that such artifice could be possible.

No, thought Ian, the hard truth of the Dragonstar only came to be accepted very gradually
—
in small, subtle ways, until there came the day when you fully understood the enormity of the project that was the Dragonstar. It was only then, thought Ian, that a person could truly understand humility.

As the ’thopter churned and dipped violently, it occurred to Ian that perhaps he had hit upon Phineas Kemp’s biggest problem: the man had never allowed himself to come to grips with the reality of the alien vessel. Kemp had never taken the time to perceive the Dragonstar for what it was
—
a technological and biological masterpiece which so far dwarfed the dreams and accomplishments of the human race that it was only laughable.

No, to Phineas Kemp the Dragonstar was just another bloody obstacle in his quest for recognition. The ship was just one more thing in Kemp’s life for him to master or conquer.

How sad. How bloody, fucking sad that Kemp had never been able to rise above that way of seeing things. A popular journalist had recently written an article about Kemp and “his” Dragonstar, making many grand allusions to Ahab and Moby Dick, and Ian had always felt there was something wrong with that writer’s perceptions, but until now he had not been able to pin it down.

No. Despite his problems, at least Captain Ahab had recognized the magnificence of the great white whale. At least he had been touched by the mystical power and significance of the mighty creature. Colonel Kemp, on the other hand, had never learned to respect the Dragonstar, by far his most formidable “opponent.”

As with many proud figures of tragedy, Phineas Kemp had come to the magic pool of power and failed to look any deeper than the surface that reflected his own proud image.

Jeez, that was good! thought Ian. He would have to try to remember to write that one down. Funny to find himself bordering on the profound when he should be preparing himself for battle. But Ian Coopersmith was a funny kind of man, wasn’t he?

Looking down, he could see that they had passed the small mountain range and were heading toward an impossibly thick stretch of primordial forest: giant redwoods penciling into the air like monuments to the majesty of all trees, riotous fronds and ferns growing out of control, and a never-ending network of vines and tangling tubers. He shuddered as he recalled crawling and sliming through that world, and of the horrors that capered boldly within its shadows. The Illuminator was growing perceptibly dimmer, and he knew that darkness would be filtering down upon the land very soon. Hopefully he would reach the Hakarrh temple before nightfall.

“Mayday! Mayday!” an unfamiliar voice sounded in his helmet phones. “All channels. Level One ... come in please!”

Reaching out, Ian keyed in his radio. “This is Ian Coopersmith aboard tactical base ’thopter one-one- seven ... we copy.”

“Captain Coopersmith, this is Bonnie Kerin at the paleo survey camp. We’ve just had a total power loss. Our force field is out, and we’re going to need some help fast.”

“We copy that, Kerin. Please stand by.” Ian keyed out the radio mike and asked his pilot to give them their position relative to the survey camp.

After a quick check of her instruments, Zabriskie gave him a fix and an ETA.

“All right,” Ian said, returning to his transmission. “We’re about ten minutes from you. Please hang on and we’ll try to provide you with some assistance. What is your total population right now?”

“Twenty-six, counting the guards.”

“How many OTVs available?”

The transmission faded for an instant, then came back strong. “Let’s see, we have three vehicles in camp right now.”

“Try to squeeze as many of you into those things as possible,” Ian said. “Should be able to get six or seven into each one. That will give you some protection in case a hungry chap happens to wander in. Then have everybody else get down underneath the tread wheels, okay?”

“We copy, Captain. Anything else we should know?”

“Not that I can think of. But you can tell me, how are Dr. Lindstrom and Dr. Thalberg?”

“They’re both okay, sir. Dr. Lindstrom is trying to get everybody organized. That’s why she had me call.”

“Glad to hear it. All right, hang on. We’re on our way. Coopersmith out.”

“Thank you, Captain. PSC standing by, and out.”

Coopersmith looked over at Zabriskie. “Well, you heard the lady: ‘Follow that cab.’”

Zabriskie forced herself to smile. She was a tall, big-boned redhead who looked like she could arm-wrestle any man in the pub, but she had a warm smile that Ian found disarming. “What do you think caused the power loss?” she asked.

“Not sure. We’ve been registering some unidentified radiation pulses since the trouble started. Got some big EMP readings a little while ago
—
it must have knocked them out. They didn’t have the kind of shielding on their gear our tactical stuff has.”

Zabriski nodded. “Thank God for agency regulations and specifications.”

“For once, I would have to agree with a statement like that. Chalk one up for the bureaucrats.”

His pilot chuckled as she began decelerating a bit, wrestling the controls through a thermal pocket. Ian keyed in the research lab’s frequency trying to hail Takamura’s people. There was a lot of interference, but it was possible to hear someone responding. Fiddling with the controls, Ian was able to pull them in.

“Research lab here, come in.”

“Takamura, is that you? This is Captain Coopersmith.”

“Yes, Captain, we’ve been expecting you.”

“I’m going to be delayed.” Ian gave the scientist a quick rundown on the problems at the paleo survey camp. “What’s your status there?”

“The lab and quarters have been evacuated. Everybody is down by the temple entrance. We’ve got more than a hundred people building some hasty barricades.”

“How about the Saurians?”

“Can’t tell,” Takamura said. “We stopped the bunch of warriors who were trying to storm the steps. We can see big crowds of them milling around in the streets, but they don’t seem to be organized into doing anything. This must be very confusing and disorienting to most of them.”

“I would say so, Doctor.” Ian paused. “Listen, there was one of them I got to know quite well, named Thesaurus. You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you? He was one of their big names.”

“Oh, yes.” Takamura said. “I know him quite well. But I couldn’t tell you what became of him. Too much going on, you know.”

Ian swallowed hard, hoping that the old Saurian had somehow escaped all the mayhem. “Okay, thanks, Doctor. Try to hold your position as long as possible, and tell Colonel Kemp why we’re not going to make it for a while yet. Coopersmith out.”

Takamura signed off. Ian could see that they were approaching the large meadow that housed the survey camp. Nearby was a hatch and corridor system that led to an airlock and the outer hull. It was very near where Ian and Becky and the first exploratory mission had entered the Dragonstar.

So much had happened since then. Everyone’s lives had changed so drastically.

“Okay, Captain, here we are,” Zabriskie announced.

“Take it down slowly,” Ian said. He radioed his two sharpshooters in the underbelly of the ’thopter, telling them to keep their eyes open for any hungry beasties, and unholstered his own sidearm, flipping off the safety.

Three Omni Terrain Vehicles were arranged in a vaguely triangular configuration almost directly below them. The twilight had grown very thick, and it seemed to be growing darker the closer they drew to the ground.

“Searchlamps,” Ian ordered.

Zabriskie touched a pad, and the OTVs were washed in blue-white harshness. The ’thopter kited about, touching down very close to them.

Jumping down from the cab, Ian told his pilot to be ready to lift off at an instant, and directed his two sharpshooters to flank the area as best they could. Looking to the OTV s, he could see the crowd of faces behind the bubble domes staring out at him. One of the vehicles hatches swung open, and Becky Thalberg appeared. She came running toward him and threw her arms around him.

“Oh, Ian! You don’t know how glad I am to see you. I can’t believe you’re here.”

Ian was amazed to realize how good she felt in his arms. Despite the humid air of the preserve, the warmth of her body pressed against his was a welcome sensation. Automatically he rooted through her long dark hair and kissed her neck. She smelled enticing, exciting.

“I’m glad to see you too, Becky.”

She drew back from him, a bit embarrassed. “Yes, I can see that.”

Mikaela Lindstrom and Dr. Penovich appeared by Ian’s side, and the fleeting moment was lost. “Good to see you, Captain Coopersmith,” Mikaela said. “Let me fill you in on what’s happening. We’ve got six people in each of the OTVs. It’s tight, but we can make it.”

“Make it to where?” Ian asked.

Mikaela looked at him with a startled expression. “I don’t know,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Neither had I,” Ian said. “But I think it’s time we did.”

Briefly, Ian explained to them the position of the survivors at the Hakarrh temple, and also the people in the downed cargo ’thopter who were stranded in the Saurian ruins.

“It seems to me that the people in the ruins are the safest,” Becky said. “I should know, I’ve been there.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Ian said. “I think we should concentrate on getting your party out of this unprotected area and then work on Colonel Kemp’s people. The big problem is that I don’t have room for more than two passengers at a time, and even then it’s a tight squeeze in the belly compartment.”

Becky considered the problem for a moment. “Why don’t we take the OTVs overland to the ruins? We could be safe there, and you could use the ’thopter to transport the rest of us two or three at a time.”

“You’re right,” Ian said. “There’s no way we could get the OTV s across the mountain range and back to tactical base HQ-even though their power wasn’t affected by the EMP phenomena.”

“And the ruins are more strategically located for the group at the Hakarrh temple. It’s much closer than trying to evacuate everybody to a spot farther into the preserve,” Becky said.