Crucible of a Species (42 page)

Martel knew there was a danger of wandering in circles so he picked two landmarks. The first was a nearby, uniquely shaped tree at the jungle’s edge and the other a large, knurled limb extending off a distant sequoia and began walking directly towards the tree with the knurled limb. Along the way, he passed an area where one of the giants had fallen perhaps ages ago. Here the leaf-covered canopy thinned and he could see bright rays peaking through the leaves. He used them to correct his path to head in a more westerly direction.

Up ahead was another bright patch of forest so the marine diverted towards it. When Martel arrived, he was surprised to find an open glade with broad rays of sunshine reaching down to touch the sandy floor of a clearing. A thin carpet of low grass covered the floor broken only by many wide oval rings roughly six feet across but only a few inches high. The walls of the rings appeared finely made and Martel’s curiosity rose since he had no idea who or what could have made them.

He cautiously approached the nearest ring. Its wall was roughly eight inches thick and about half as high with a bright white rim running along the top. It didn’t crumble under his finger as a sandcastle would but was hard and smooth.

The ground inside the structure sloped abruptly from the inner edge, and then more gradually inward to a flat center roughly three feet wide. Soft sand inside was smooth but slightly disturbed as though groomed.

Martel moved further into the clearing. A second ring of the same dimensions attracted his attention because a thin, yellow object was sticking out of the sand near its edge. Eggshells filled its center. The nest had contained at least two dozen eggs shaped like elongated teardrops and, before hatching, something had taken great care to arrange them neatly in pairs in the center of the oval with their narrow end pointed downward into the sand. Then the marine looked up, the oval clutch of eggs was oriented with the long axis of the nest in a north to south direction.

The sergeant took great care to step around the nest rather than ruin something so carefully crafted. He examined each oval rim as he passed but none of them contained anything but broken shells. Then it occurred to him that the first nest he had found may have had eggs buried under the sand at its center. He wistfully turned to look back before deciding,
No, no way I’m backtracking just to satisfy my curiosity. Maybe I’ll come across another like it up ahead and … what the hell?

Martel instinctively froze in his tracks. He would have never seen it if he had not turned to look back. One nest appeared to have a dark bush with splashes of yellow set inside it. The coloring made it hard to distinguish from the rest of the forest but the darn thing looked to be nearly as tall as he was.

He stared at it. It didn’t move. Still, something wasn’t right.

Move on, Martel. You need to get back to camp unless you want to spend another night out here. Still, that shouldn’t be there and if it doesn’t make sense then it will come back and hurt you.

Well, shit. It ain’t like it’s gonna take more than a minute. One little peek is worth peace of mind.

The sergeant scanned the forest one last time before moving. He watched the object as he approached but the thing didn’t move. When he finally stood next to the nest, he stopped and shifted his spear to hold it ready in both hands and waited, quietly examining the thing before him.

It was a feathered, almost egg-shaped oval as large as the nest, blending perfectly with the forest floor. Was it some type of bird? He couldn’t see a head or wings or even a foot. It didn’t appear to be breathing even though he was now close enough that he could reach out and touch it.

Martel turned his spear around and poked it lightly with the blunt end. The thing was soft but didn’t respond. Hesitantly, he extended his hand but stopped. He would try one more thing. The marine touched it lightly with the sharp end of the spear.

A yellow blur struck out. The folded neck of the animal whipped out from behind the bundled feathers, materializing as a tooth-filled head on the end of a long, sleek neck that solidly latched onto the shaft of his spear. The force of the blow vibrated up his arm, pushing him off balance as it ripped the shaft out of his hands. Two long arms magically appeared, grabbed onto the wooden shaft and flung it to the ground. In a flash, the animal’s head spun around, focusing on Martel.

Martel stumbled back, his hand blindly reaching for another spear. Sharp, ivory-yellow teeth flashed, snapping shut mere inches away. The marine backpedaled, all the while trying to bring up the spear.

It took a moment before he realized that the animal wasn’t going to follow through in its attack. It was still in the nest, its head moving back and forth like a cobra ready to strike, hissing and growling a warning as yellow eyes stared into his. The sergeant relaxed a little but held his spear ready.

The animal didn’t come at him, it didn’t even rise up onto its feet. After a few moments, he recognized it. It was a troodon and it was sitting on a nest guarding its egg clutch.

Martel circled the nest. The head and arms of the dinosaur followed. It could have easily jumped and outrun him. He wasn’t terribly concerned since, in spite of its length, it only stood about chest high and this troodon obviously wasn’t going to leave the nest for anything. Then he noticed the yellow feathers on its head.

Holy mackerel, it’s a male. How the hell did you end up watching the …

Hey, you guys run in packs. Where’re the rest of your buddies?

Martel realized it was time to leave. For the first time understanding just how far he’d been pushing his luck. Near the far edge of the clearing, the sergeant passed another nest with only smooth sand in its bottom. Remembering his earlier thoughts, he stepped inside the ring and dug down into the warm sand at its center. Eggs lay there, carefully buried deep in the sand. He grabbed one and pulled it out.

Sorry buddy.
Martel thought as he tapped the top of the egg. The shell wasn’t leathery like an alligator or lizard. It was thick and cracked with a sharp snap like that of a chicken’s egg. The warm semi-liquid slid down his parched throat. He could feel his body react with new energy as nearly two cups of raw egg flowed into his stomach.

Martel rubbed an arm across his mouth knowing he couldn’t delay any longer. Reluctantly, he reached down to grab two more eggs. The marine slid them into his thigh pockets as he looked around the area one more time. Except for that troodon still sitting on the nest, nothing was nearby so he continued westward.

The sergeant stopped two times in the next hour, each time he carefully tucked himself into one of the massive trees and ate one of the eggs. As he was eating his last egg, he noticed a damp, musty scent filling the air and wondered. Martel quickly finished and pushed forward. Soon he heard the musical sound of flowing waters. The stream cut a crooked channel through the forest floor, flowing northward towards the valley. He gave thanks as he waded into the cool waters and drank deeply.

The stream led him out of the forest into the mixed subtropical growth of the upper plains. There was more cover here but, unless he stayed in the knee-deep waters, there was no easy trail to follow. Soon he heard a distant roar that could only come from a waterfall. With it came the familiar sound of big animals walking though the waters and it spurred him onward. His heart chilled as he once-again heard their low rumble, a call characteristic of big predators. They’d picked up his scent.

Martel’s heart sank as the surrounding dense brush opened into a wooded area providing little cover. He pondered his options, Should I wait and hide or push onward? The waterfall trail we followed to the floor of the valley was located in a wooded area. I must be close, too close to cower under a bush.

Martel climbed the soggy bank and began to jog. In less than a minute, he heard the change in the predator’s calls; they knew their prey was close.

He broke into a dead run. Ahead was blue sky. The ground below shook under the charge of the predators but the roar of the falls ahead filled him with hope. There, the trail disappeared over the edge of the cliff. He ran on legs dreadfully abused in past days, flinging himself over the edge of the cliff to slide down loose stones to the trail’s first bend.

The predators screamed and roared their frustration into the valley. They were too big for the narrow trail but they knew he was there, just out of reach.

Pulsar fire ripped the air. Martel chanced to stick his head out to see one of the big predators dead, half draped across the trailhead.

“Hang in there Sarge.” The first human voice he had heard since leaving camp. He twisted, almost slipping over the edge of the cliff. Martel looked up, a drone silently floated in the air a few feet away, its ports still dripping moist with condensate from the air the shots had heated when it fired. The drone again called, “There’s a squad of marines on the way. Until they get to you, just sit tight. We’ll keep watch.

“You look like shit. Can you make it back to camp on your own or do we have to send transport and a medic?”

“I, I just don’t …. No, I made it this far. I can make it on my own. Damn but you guys sure know how to time a rescue.”

“Okay, Sarge. ETA twelve minutes so sit tight. Lieutenant wants to know if you need anything.”

“How about a beer?” Martel suggested as he sat on the narrow dusty trail. He could feel the sun burning his bare skin but there was no way he would climb back up to the clifftop. For once, he was going to sit back and let someone else do the work.

The calls of the valley filled the air as he watched a distant flock of pterosaurs continue northward,
I think I’d like to stay in camp for a while. We have a lot to do in the next few months and our luck has to change sometime. Shit, I hope so. I really don’t know if I can keep this up much longer.

The sergeant was sound asleep when the squad found him. They helped him back up where Lieutenant Esperanza handed him a warm beer and one of their few remaining chocolate rations before starting back.

Sergeant Steve Martel listened to the evening calls of the dinosaurs as the sun set in the west. Somehow, they weren’t as beautiful as he remembered.

“How in the world
am I supposed to work with all that noise?” Dr. Phillip Nolen growled as he rose from his desk. Dozens of predator tyrannosaurs had unmercifully trampled the surrounding fields of exotic plants during their attack. Removal of the human and animal dead had begun immediately after the battle but ravaged vegetation still surrounded the ship. Soon even this stark reminder of the horrors of that day would be gone like the tendrils of white smoke that lazily drifted across the plateau from fires burning brightly in the high oxygen of the Cretaceous air.

The disturbance wasn’t just those tending the fields. There were more people out there than usual and, oddly enough, they were all running away from the Argos.

“Amit, what is going on out there?” The doctor called out to his synthetic aid.

A full sized simulacrum of a tall, mature man with graying hair appeared behind him in response to his question, “The crew has managed to corral a second group of troodon for Dr. Thompson’s studies. It would appear that the people have grown fond of watching the newly captured theropods but I suspect most are simply looking for a break from the long work day.”

“Humph, it’s all a waste of time.” Nolen mumbled to his assistant as he switched off the walldisplay’s sound and poured another cup of tea, “Their objections to an immediate departure are no longer valid. Applying my new model to the data gathered during our trip here confirms it. We have a means of calculating a successful transit of Jupiter’s Red Spot. There’s no need for us to remain here any longer.

“Amit, make sure all my files are backed up but don’t touch the sections marked ‘temporal transport’. I’ll keep them secure in my personal space for now.

“AMIT, CONTINUE NOTEBOOK ENTRY;
New paragraph. In summary, by incorporating negative energy and antimatter coupling in the equations, my expansion of Hawking’s temporal model provides a working solution for a vessel’s controlled transit of any Tippler Cylinder artifact of the type encountered at the center of Jupiter’s Red Spot. I’ve successfully tested the model against data gathered during our original transit of said artifact. Results confirm the validity of the new navigational mode for plotting a successful passage with multiple exit-point calculations exhibiting a high level of confidence for both physical and temporal emergence.
PARAGRAPH END.

“As with any new model, there is significant uncertainty in a few parameters particularly the temporal emergence point but accuracy will improve as we gather additional data during our final approach to the gas giant.
AMIT, STOP ENTRY.”

Nolen cleared his desktop of any sensitive materials and rose to leave the office, “I’m going to walk over and show Michael the results. I’m sure he’ll support me and we can both work on convincing the colonel. Forward all calls directly to me.”

Dr. Nolan left the lab with a rare smile of satisfaction and extended an unexpected but warm greeting to those he encountered in the corridor. He entered Dr. Thompson’s office where Thompson’s AI, Cynthia, escorted him into the laboratory.

Two of Thompson’s researchers were in the lab monitoring the creation of their latest design of the communications quantum circuit. Michael turned as Dr. Nolan entered the lab, “Good morning Phillip. You’re just in time to review the latest module for the signal encoder. We’ve modified the design to include the frequency slide that works so well with the troodon. It looks as though we finally have a working solution and can eliminate the predator dinosaur’s sensitivity to all our electronics. The next step is to install a few of these into the berm defenses and confirm that this upgrade performs as well on the larger predators.”

Phillip waved his hand in the air as he passed, “Later, I’ve something more urgent. I’ve done it, Michael. Stephen Hawking had only theory to work with when he showed that a Tippler Cylinder could warp time if it incorporated negative energy. We have the advantage of data from actual measurements. With some enlightened modifications on my part, my results validate his base premise. The close fit confirms the phenomenon on Jupiter is a working Tippler Cylinder. Even more important, we have a tool that can plot a safe course through the artifact and calculate the location and temporal emergence point of any transit. Michael, we can finally go home.”

Congratulations came from those in the lab but Thompson was more reserved, “Let’s talk in my office.” The physicist turned back to the others, “You guys carry on and get those boards over to Lieutenant Esperanza. Make sure she gives you an escort when you install ‘em and for God’s sake, don’t forget your rifles again. I don’t want to have to go through another session in front of the colonel.”

Nolen went into the office and made himself at home. The usual pot of tea was waiting on the credenza, “I realize you’ll want to go through the simulations on your own before we approach Drake so I’ve opened access to your account.”

“Of course.”

“Michael, I need your support on this. There’s no reason why we should persist in risking life and limb by continuing on this trek.”

Dr. Thompson had heard this before, “Very few expeditions go exactly as planned, Phillip. It’s when we encounter and then rise to meet the unexpected that we seem to learn the most. In some ways and in spite of the hardships, we’ve been extremely fortunate.”

Thompson feared he might be pushing his superior too far when he saw the change of expression on Phillips face, “Oh now relax. I’ll look over the results and support you as much as I can. The decision is the colonel’s though; you and I don’t have much to say.”

Nolen relaxed a bit, “Thank you. I’ll come by this afternoon and we can discuss how to approach the colonel. Please, keep an open mind.”

Dr. Thompson stopped him before he could leave the office, “Phillip, why are you so strongly set on going back? If we return now we’ll simply be another failed expedition, no more than a footnote in history. Do you realize that Vikings and Basque fishermen regularly visited the Americas for two hundred years before Columbus? It’s in all the history books but few people have heard of those early explorations yet everyone knows about Columbus. He’s remembered because he did more than simply take the first step, he followed through.”

Nolen’s resolve grew as he replied, “That’s a very weak excuse for continuing on with a futile expedition where more than half of our people have lost their lives. Nothing has gone in our favor, what makes you think our circumstances will improve?

“Even if we manage to leave this world and set a course for Tau Ceti, the star is twelve light years away. It will take us more than a year to get there and when we arrive we won’t find any Asteri there. We’re nearly a hundred million years in the past, no civilization survives that long. We don’t even have the proper star maps for navigation or haven’t you noticed that the nearest stars have all shifted position relative to our Sun?

“Our chances of returning from that star are zero. It’s better to return, correct our errors and try again; restart the mission in the proper timeframe.”

Thompson sat back and sighed, “Phillip, remember the reality of our departure. Recall the political opposition we faced as we were leaving. You know as well as I do we won’t obtain funding for a second expedition.”

Nolen ignored the words, “You just admitted that we have learned much, let’s take that knowledge back and we’ll gain the support we need to continue.”

Dr. Phillip Nolen left the office but he didn’t return to his own quarters. His path took him to the outer webway and then down into the bowels of the Argos.

*~~*~~*~~*

“Excuse me,”
Nolen asked the navy rating, “how do I find something called the ‘Chef’s Mess’?”. The doctor felt out of his element down in this part of the ship. Things were different here. The floor was hard, the passageways echoed and the walls a bland navy grey.

“Chef’s Mess?” The rating replied, looking puzzled. “Oh, you’re here for the meeting. That would be in the ‘Chief’s Mess’. I just came from there, had to leave early. I really wasn’t interested but it was a chance to get into the Chief’s mess hall. Doesn’t happen very often unless you’re a CPO, sorry sir, that’s a Chief Petty Officer to you.

“Just down the passage to the second intersection then turn right. The door’s open, you’ll hear them before you get to it.”

“Thank you,” Nolen called back over his shoulder, his steps echoing unnaturally on the hard floor. The rhythmic rumble of heavy machines vibrated the deck from deep within the depths of the ship. He turned a corner and could hear voices filling the corridor ahead and the science director’s pace quickened, hoping it was indeed his destination and he would be able to get this over with and return to his lab.

The strangely encrypted message had come from Chief Slap, the one they called ‘Cookie’. Nolen had moved to delete it but then a few words caught his attention. They were interested in a discussion of a departure date and asked if he would attend a meeting in the lower decks, the ‘Chief’s Mess’ to be exact.

Stepping into the brightly lit room was like entering a different universe. Simulated wood-lined walls held holograms of the Argos, Skyport and a number of uniformed people he didn’t recognize. A fine ceramic tile appeared to cover the deck but if felt soft like a rug under his feet and over by the opposite wall an ornate, polished bar and a few small tables completed the scene of a comfortable pub or clubhouse. Snacks covered a table by the far wall where the chairs of the lounge were stacked.

Nolen relaxed when he saw the familiar faces of Cookie and Ensign Mary Li. The communications officer looked up and smiled in recognition as they rose together in greeting, “Thank you for coming, Doctor.” Li beamed at him as she extended her hand. “Please, come in. Have you eaten yet? There’s plenty of snacks, all local food so it’s not restricted.”

“No thank you, I’m not hungry but perhaps a cup of tea?” He replied as he pulled out a chair. Nolen was becoming uneasy for the room had quieted as most of the people turned their attention towards him. The chief stretched back onto the two back legs of his chair and shouted into the doorway at the back of the mess. “Jankowski, bring in a pot of tea for the doctor.”

Ensign Li’s face grew serious, “I’m sorry about the irregularity of the message but we need your help.

“All of us agree with you. It’s wrong to continue the mission. We’d all like to leave, the sooner the better of course, so when we heard about your success with the navigation model we wanted to propose a solution.”

Nolen’s eyes widened, “You know about my recent work? How, …”

“We also know about the meeting you just had with Dr. Thompson. Just how we know isn’t important. What is important is how serious you are about going back sooner rather than later.”

At a rare loss for words, Nolen sat back, “I don’t understand. I’m extremely serious, of course. If you are so well informed then you know I’ve just presented Dr. Thompson with some very significant findings. After he’s had a chance to review the work, we’ll move together and confront the colonel.”

A knowing smile appeared on the Chief’s face, “I think you know that getting Thompson’s support is just wishful thinking, Doctor. We would like to propose an alternative. This is something that you must keep to yourself even if you choose not to agree to join us.

“If we can wrest control of the ship from the captain and Drake, then will you agree to plot a course home for us? We will also need your backing of our actions after we return to the Earth of our time. There will be questions asked.”

“I will not support violence of any sort.”

“No, no violence. However, the colonel and Dr. Thompson may not be too happy about our methods. We have a navigator. We’re gonna need a pilot who will agree to work with us. We need you to plot the course and to support us when we get home, the others we can work around.”

Nolen replied without hesitation, “Okay, what would you have me do?”

Li turned towards Cookie and smiled, “Nothing for now, Dr. Nolen. Nothing at all. Relax and have a few of these little hot dogs. Cookie tells me they’re a mix of hadrosaur and triceratops and they are surprisingly good. While you’re here, we’d like to ask a few questions about some of your discussions with the colonel.”

*~~*~~*~~*

The two weeks that followed
Dr. Nolen’s uncomfortable meeting passed as rapidly as the pterosaurs he watched diving from the cloudless sky into the heart of one of the silvery schools of fish living in the shallow waters of the nearby sea. The doctor would have preferred to forget the discussion. He wasn’t used to dealing with people who acted so quickly and moved so forcefully on so little information. They made him feel unsure of himself.

His own crusade to leave as soon as possible had been emboldened by Thompson’s review and subsequent agreement with his time-transit model even though his colleague continued to question the Argos’s ability to safely pass the deadly regions and return home in a timeframe reasonably close to their departure.

The refitting passed a major milestone when engineering refit the jury-rigged drives into new, improved mountings inside a sealed magnetic bottle. The next step would be a flightless tuning of the command web between bridge, engineering and the very heart of the Argos, the gravitonic drives.

Ensign Mary Li wasn’t at her bridge station when her tattoo communicator announced a coordinated test of the control structure and drives. Li’s hands twitched slightly in excitement as she read the anticipated message for they had worked hard preparing for this moment. If the results of the drive test were positive, then they could leave but success would depend upon how quickly and efficiently they took the ship.