Crucible of a Species (40 page)

“We don’t have to do either. The Argos is capable of returning right now,” Nolen chided them. “Lock them in their quarters and head back to our own time where we can seek help.”

Colonel Drake stepped forward putting his hand on the captain’s shoulder, “Please ladies and gentlemen. The subject is not up for debate or discussion. My decision stands.

“I offer these people a better chance than they extended to us. We will provide supplies sufficient for four months as well as weaponry. They will be taken to a site identified as a good defensive position, a good place to build a home. It is located to the north of us and sufficiently far away that they can no longer threaten the Argos. There they can live out their lives in harmony with nature, on a planet free of the modern evils of civilization they found so horrible.

“Lieutenant Braxton Johnson will fly them out tomorrow as soon as their supplies are loaded onto the transport. For the rest of you, I’ll make this offer only once. Anyone who would prefer to join the exiles in their brave new world may do so now. We will ask no questions and you will be marked on our logs as volunteers. See Commander Dalmas if you are interested.

“Now we all have a lot of work to do. Let’s get back to our jobs. Sgt. Marshall, provide an escort so the prisoners can gather their belongings and then confine them until Lieutenant Braxton is ready for them. You are all dismissed.”

*~~*~~*~~*

“I don’t like the idea
of leaving them out there,” Ensign Andrew Dailey said as he looked over at the manacled ex-crewmembers standing between armed marines.

Lieutenant Braxton Johnson opened the Hunter Recon’s side entry door without saying a word. He climbed inside and opened the rear cargo hatch. “I don’t like it either.” the lieutenant replied, “But it’s a better deal than they were trying to give us.”

“I’m not so sure all of them were the maniacs the colonel makes them out to be. Take Tom Denon for instance. I’ve worked with him. He never spouted all that Earth First jargon about the Earth getting to be too crowded or …”

“So what should we do with them? You want to continue working with guys like Bucker. I know you don’t like him. Hell, none of us do. He’s a back-stabbing, slimy conniver if there ever was one.

“No, I think the colonel hit on the right solution. They’ll have a good start to make a life of their own without outside interference. I know Denon too but he could be a sleeper. We can’t take the chance of him being around. Hell, at least they know what they’re getting into, that’s more than we can say about ourselves. We could be heading into anything when we leave here.”

Lieutenant Esperanza entered the compartment, “I could hear you guys outside. Look, we’re all upset. I’ve had half a dozen marines volunteer to stay with them. Personally, I think the guys are crazy but they say they like it around here. The colonel’s letting all of them stay.

“He also had thirteen crewmembers who volunteered. He wasn’t too happy about the loss of so many but he made the offer.”

“How about that. Old guy’s getting soft-hearted in his old age.” Braxton mumbled, “It’s going to seem awfully empty on board the Argos with all these people gone.

“Let’s get this over with. Are you ready, Esperanza?”

The Hunter lifted quietly with only a hiss of air as it pushed through the atmosphere. They traveled north. The craft eventually turned westward to the foothills of a broad lowland bordering the warm tropical sea and set down on a long finger of rock jutting into the waters. Esperanza turned to Corporal Wilson who was standing next to her, “This was the alternate site for our landing.

“Good luck to you, Corporal. I hope we have a chance to serve together again in the future.”

“Aw, now don’t go getting teary eyed on me, Lieutenant. We’ll do okay. This type of living is more our style and, you know, I think these people seem to want the same thing. After all, they care about the planet, right?”

“I always did like a positive attitude. Remember, you don’t remove their restraints until after we leave.”

A voice lifted among the prisoners, “You tell Drake that he hasn’t heard the last of us. We’re gonna survive this and we’re coming for all of you. You didn’t get all of us you know!”

“That will be enough, Bucker.” The corporal shouted back to the knot of people standing with their hands tied behind them. “You’ll be released in a few minutes and then if you want to start back you go right ahead. I expect you won’t be missed.”

The lieutenant and corporal walked back to the Hunter. Esperanza turned to him and extended her hand as she boarded, “Looks like you’re gonna have your hands full with that one. You’re the law out here. You might want to make sure he doesn’t become a problem. Take care, Mark.”

Once again airborne, Braxton circled the camp before turning south. As the Hunter made its final turn, Esperanza came forward and looked over Braxton’s shoulder. The stranded humans were already unpacking the first AutoSentinel. Braxton shook his head as his hands moved across the controls.

“What the hell are you shaking your head at, Johnson?”

“Them down there among other things. The whole situation bothers me. Maybe we should have just shot ‘em rather than condemning them to a slow death like this. No way they’re gonna survive.”

The marine kept her eyes on the scene below as she answered, “Maybe you should read a little more history. We left them with food and the basics for setting up their defenses. They even have temporary shelters and a few weapons.

“Eventually, they’re going to need much more if they’re going to survive but for now, all they need is there at their fingertips. Successful colonies have started with less.

“In a way, I envy them. It’s not going to be an easy life but there’s a lot here for the taking. In fact, I think this would be a good place to settle down. Hell, I even considered it for a few moments.” Esperanza gave the pilot one last glance as she pushed back from the cockpit, “Yeah, it would be hard but it could be a good life. You just have to learn to live with the neighbors.”

An angry shower of stones
and sand ripped across the top of the fissure. Pebbles rattled angrily against the far wall, ricocheting down the narrow split to blast the bare back of the sleeping sergeant, Steve Martel. The startled marine pushed himself up onto one arm and the world spun, his head throbbed and his body ached as he tried to stand. He lost his grip on the uneven footing, sliding across the rough face of the boulder lodged between the crevasse walls. Fingertips scraped hard rock bringing clarity and the cold realization that he would not survive the fall to the valley floor. The slide carried him against the wall of the fissure and he flailed his arms out in desperation until his fingers dug into the jagged stone surface of the fissure’s side.

Breathing heavily he pulled himself back onto his perch; Martel could only roll clumps of dust around on his dry tongue. He looked up through the black shadows of the fissure to a bright blue sky. A thin sliver of sunlight lit the far wall,
God, I will never, ever sleep on top of a boulder again. I must have slept …. it’s early morning or …

The ear-piercing screech of a flock of birds screaming in anger and panic assailed his ears as a second shower of pebbles rattled furiously down between the walls. Then a series of low, thunderous booms overwhelmed the cries of the birds with a hollow, rolling rumble that vibrated the skull of the marine and echoed across the valley far below.

Martel’s body painfully protested as he steadied himself on the boulder using one hand against the face of the cliff. A second, steam whistle-like cry and another booming call came down from the plateau above. Curiosity pushed him to drag himself from the boulder onto the rock edifice. He swung an arm outside the top of the fissure and raised his head just enough to allow his eyes to gaze across the surface of the plateau.

A fusillade of booms from the side brought his head around and the sudden movement sent a burning shaft of pain across the sharply defined, sun burnt muscles of his shoulders. Before him, the marine saw long, dark shadows cast by the weak rays of a rising sun filling an open plateau dotted with massive, multicolored objects that looked like boulders. A rolling growl drew the sergeant’s eyes to one of the boulders and the weak light of dawn brought recognition of the most amazing beast he had ever seen.

A mountain of armor and muscle stood not more than forty yards distant, a Centrosaurus. It was a magnificent creature, ancestor of the even larger, most famous of all ceratopsid, the Triceratops, and the marine immediately mistook this beast for its progeny that would appear some thirty million years in the future.

Ten feet tall and more than twice the size of a rhino, it stomped the ground in anger with the force of a three-ton pile driver. Fire brewed in its eyes as it swung its head, brandishing a broad, purple neck shield of hard bone reinforced by two flutes edged with horn-like points designed to protect its neck. A long, deadly looking, honey-colored horn projected from above each eye and a third rose from the top of its sharp-nosed beak. Its eyes glowed as it snorted a challenge directly at the marine that was answered by a thunderous reply from behind that nearly dislodged Martel’s precarious hold on the fissure.

The human’s rapidly beating heart fluttered as he recognized the many boulders across the plain around him for he suddenly knew what they were. He was in the center of a herd of these massive creatures and that very pissed off bull across the field was pawing and stomping the ground in obvious preparation for a charge against a youthful challenger standing just a few yards behind Martel.

An ear-splitting bellow marked the start of the bull’s charge. Rock-solid ground shook as the massive animal charged directly towards the marine, gaining speed with each thunderous step. He watched as it lowered its broad head while swinging the three-horns of its face on a track that abruptly diverted towards him and the youthful challenger pacing nervously, dangerously close to his back.

The juvenile stomped the ground as if it was uncertain if it should charge or flee. Its thick tail swung back and forth in fearful reaction, lifting sprays of rock and sand into the air, projecting them across the human to rattle down the fissure.

A flock of small, feathered dinosaurs with long forearms had been hunting in the grass between the behemoths. They screamed and scattered across the plain in panic as the rest of the herd turned towards the commotion. A family of nearby pterosaurs that had been feeding nearby hastily moved to align themselves with the wind and wing their way noisily into the air.

The charging ceratopsid’s tail swung shoulder high above the ground as it used it as a counterbalance to shift its course towards the young challenger, throwing out waves of dirt and pebbles. Stunned into immobility, Martel enjoyed an ant’s view of a tank battle as he stared in astonishment with only his head and arm exposed above the fissure.

The juvenile finally charged and the two horned monsters met on the grounds above the marine. They twisted, slid and skidded across the earth before actually colliding for the mass of a solid impact would have killed both of them. The youngster lowered its head at the last instant but the wiser veteran pulled to the side, lunging in with a sliding thrust. The upper right horn of the oldster punched in behind the young one’s eye to enter its skull. An ear-piercing scream echoed across the plain.

The other horn of the old bull swung around, piercing the base of the frill as the challenger’s muscles went into spasm as it tried to swing the older, much more massive animal around. It lost its footing. The earth shook when the beasts tumbled to the ground, landing in a motionless heap.

A stillness descended over the area but it lasted only a moment before the older dinosaur twisted itself free of the youngster and stood. One horn dripped deep-red blood as the victor sniffed the carcass and then huffed out a great burst of air before walking off to collect its herd.

Martel lowered his shaking body back into the fissure and onto the boulder. He could hear the herd moving off but he was not ready to venture up to the top of the plateau. He looked down and examined trembling hands, telling himself it was from the constant strain of yesterday but he knew the truth in his heart.

It felt safe, here in this fissure. Martel tried to relax, once again wishing for some water. His temperament told him to start moving but he was so tired. He closed his eyes; it wouldn’t hurt to rest a bit more.

He awakened to the rolling, low call of a big predator. A thumping on the ground and curiosity again overcame the pain of movement as he lifted himself to gaze across the plateau.

Two of the big daspletosaurus predators were circling the dead dinosaur that lay so close he could see the scales on their feet. Their backs were to him but he knew how fast these tyrannosaurs could move if they sensed his presence.

The smaller tyrannosaur nibbled at the cheeks of the dead ceratopsid, pulling thin strips of tender meat off like someone eating beef jerky. As he watched in close fascination, the other, larger predator pushed off the youngster. It took a firm grip on the thick-boned frill surrounding the dead animal’s head. Placing its massive hind foot on the body behind the neck, it pulled, jerking like a terrier fighting over a bone until the cartilage of the boney shield split and the three-ton head of the dead centrosaurus ripped away from its body. Blood and gore sprayed across the plateau onto the marine.

The smaller tyrannosaur lunged for the soft, now unprotected meat of the animal’s neck causing the larger predator to drop the frill and swing its head around knocking the small one to the side. In one swift movement, it continued the motion, ripping a huge chunk of flesh from the neck before the smaller one could claim what remained.

A soft footfall landed behind the marine. He turned to see two small theropod predators staring at him and instinctively dropped down to the boulder. Three multicolored heads appeared above the rim of the crevasse, bobbing up and down as they pranced around the rim excitedly chattering. It lasted for only a few seconds before the little dinosaurs disappeared, apparently deciding that easier pickings waited in the discarded head of the horned beast.

Martel decided to rest for a while. He was so tired. He knew those small predators wouldn’t forget him. Still, he was so tired.

*~~*~~*~~*

“I think this is a waste of time,”
Tom Bradley commented as he watched the men slinging camouflage and cargo nets over the piles of sticks and uprooted brush. “Why don’t we simply put an AutoSentinel in the pen and turn it on?”

Midshipman Brittany Thornsen took a moment to consider the best way to answer the World Geographic journalist. In spite of the fact that he sometimes became a little too chummy, she’d grown to respect Bradley and his broad range of knowledge. A dumb question like this coming from him was a bit unexpected, “Well, Mr. Bradley, besides the fact that this is the way the colonel wants it done, let me try and explain it like this.

“The troodon are the only predators that we were unable to draw out of the plateau. I’m not talking about one or two individuals but three whole packs remained. Either they saw our men on the berm or more likely, they figured out what was happening. How they avoided the plan doesn’t matter but it’s clear the troodon are smart and they aren’t going to simply waltz into our pen. Can’t shoot them either, seems Nolen wants them and that means we have to round them up.

“We’ll get their attention with the sentinels but it’s gonna take more to box these dinos in. Here’s how we’re gonna do it.” Brittany said as she crossed to his side and pointed to the top of a small hill, “See how the hill has a slight rise in front of us? The plan is to drive the troodon down from that hilltop with this long funnel that leads to the holding pen. They won’t see the pen until they’re over the crest and coming down slope, but by then it’ll be too late.

“We used the bulldozers to form the walls. They’re about fifteen feet high all the way around and that should be lofty enough so that the troodon won’t easily jump or climb out. They’re mostly uprooted brush and trees so we added the netting to make them look like solid ground.”

Lieutenant Esperanza’s voice carried above the bulldozer’s growl as she approached, “Mr. Bradley, come down into the field if you want to see any action. They’re finishing setup of the first AutoSentinel at the other end of the drive and we’ll start the push from there in about fifteen minutes. Come, walk with me.”

Marines and techs worked across the slope gathering rocks, limbs and brush. They laid the debris in long, shoulder high piles forming the walls of a broad-mouthed funnel that narrowed from the top of the rise down to the holding pen.

“These walls form the last phase of the drive.” The lieutenant nodded towards the funnel, “By the time they get into this area, they’ll be heading downhill fast, right into what looks like an open field but is actually our holding pen.”

Bradley was surprised to see the edifice take on a different shape on the other side of the rise. Stone walls formed a stack of ‘V’ shaped chevrons with the bottom of each ‘V’ cut out. Where one narrow end of chevron stopped, the wide-mouthed top of the next began extending across the shallow valley.

“I don’t know where the colonel came up with this idea but I think it’s pretty slick.” Esperanza continued as they walked along the top of the rise. The broad field had enough curvature to form a shallow bowl, “The troodon are smart and we don’t want them to see the trap. Look close and you’ll notice that the chevron-pairs are spaced wider apart over there on the opposite side of the plateau. That’s the start of our drive lane. We’ve placed a sentinel up there right in the middle of the widest part of the funnel. There’s another one down the drive a hundred yards.

“We’ll use our drones to spot the location of the nearest pack and focus the emissions of the first sentinel on them. As the sentinel’s signal draws them in, we’ll shut it down and turn on the second tower. The beam will be tight and it should bring them a’runnin straight down to the narrow mouth of the gullet formed at the bottom of the first chevron barrier.

“Each funnel opens into the mouth of the next chevron whose walls have been placed a little closer together than those of the previous one so they gradually compress the troodon pack as they run down the field. As they cross the plateau, it will feel like an open field even as the chevrons push them together.

“Eventually the pack will climb to the top of this last hill, cross over its crest and enter the final funnel. When they enter this last funnel, we hit ‘em with the radiation from that last AutoSentinel in the pen. They oughtt‘a be mad as hell by that time and ready to charge down any slope. They won’t even notice the long walls of that final section and those in the front of the pack will have the ones in the back pushing ’em onward; there’ll be no stopping.”

“Looks pretty slick, Lieutenant,” Bradley commented as he watched them unload the sentinel on the other side of the plateau, “but how are you going to keep the pack moving across the plateau? It should be easy for them to get out.”

Esperanza grinned over towards the midshipman as she answered, “Yeah, we thought about that and came to the conclusion that we need a rabbit. Ms Thornsen here’s our rabbit.

“Our middy is the fastest sprinter in the group. We’re going to give her a communications beacon. As we turn off the chevron tower’s signal, our rabbit’s gonna pop in at the bottom of the funnel. If these guys are any decent predator at all, they will go wild over a small animal running from them. The beacon’s there for good measure though I don’t think we’re really gonna need it.