DS02 Night of the Dragonstar (15 page)

As the engines wheezed into silence, Williamson moved back into the camera’s range, with the aircraft in the background. “And now, the historic meeting is about to occur. To my right, in the first row of the reviewing stands, is a delegation of Saurians, who are now preparing to greet the occupants of the ornithopter, Dr. Neville in particular.”

The camera pulled back to reveal several things happening simultaneously. The crew hatch of the ornithopter popped open and a set of steps was lowered to the platform. First off was an IASA staff member in the familiar powder-blue coveralls, then Dr. Mikaela Lindstrom stepped down. She looked back and held out her hand to offer assistance to a wizened, white-haired old man, Dr. Neville, who descended the steps with a seemingly cavalier attitude. In the grandstands, a small group of Saurians stood up and assembled in formation. All of the creatures wore the robes and regalia of their particular caste within the biologically structured society.

Alistair Williamson continued his narration, admirably filling in the moments leading up the climactic event with ever increasing hyperbole and false drama.

“Well, Phineas, your dream is about to come true,” Kate said, watching as Dr. Neville walked forward along. a red carpet to a halfway point where he would meet the advancing Saurian delegation.

“Yes, it certainly is. I can’t believe it.”

Phineas Kemp smiled broadly. It was an especially satisfying feeling to see something that had previously existed only in your mind take form and substance and become reality, assisted by the efforts of many others who have paid heed to your dreaming. It was a feeling of accomplishment, a sensation of power being subtly wielded.

He watched as the Saurians approached, each one wearing the translating devices that would allow them to communicate with Dr. Neville. There were several IASA aides-de-camp accompanying the entourage as they moved forward in their multicolored robes. There was a quality to the event almost like a pageant or other formalized ceremony, which pleased Phineas very much. It was almost exactly as he had imagined it.

As Alistair Williamson continued to describe the events, much like a sports commentator might whisper over a golfer lining up his tournament-winning putt, the Saurians came face to face with Neville. Dr. Mikaela Lindstrom and the IASA aides stepped back so that the cameras would have a full view of the action.

The first of the Saurian group, a member of the priest class who wore a lemon-yellow robe, approached the old science fiction writer and extended a forelimb in greeting. Dr. Neville grasped the reptilian hand/claw with a certain reluctance, and the smile on his face seemed somewhat wooden, but things appeared to be going well in general.

Several of the other Saurians, dressed as agrarians, merchants, and warriors, all crowded about Neville. There was much hand/claw grasping, pats on the shoulder, and even pecks on cheeks. At the climactic moment, the sounds of a triumphant symphonic march boomed from the loudspeakers and a barrage of fireworks went whistling into the air above the platform.

Kemp thought everything was going beautifully. It was a perfect crowning effort to the enormously successful documentary broadcast. As the first volley of fireworks burst over the reviewing stand, however, something happened.

As Neville confronted the group of Saurians, he thought to himself, My God, what an ugly bunch. Am I really going to have to touch one of those things?

The trip had been absolutely nothing like he had envisioned it
—
this would be his sole moment of glory. Ah, but what a moment! Pictures of this would be in every history book from here to doomsday. Billions of people were watching even now, most never having heard of John T. Neville.

Goddamn, would he ever sell some books now! Maybe it was time for Neville Base Gamma.

Oh, well, might as well get this over with.

It was with these thoughts that the famous science fiction writer hobbled toward the reptiles to shake their leaders’ hands.

They smelled funny, and he sure as hell didn’t trust them, but by God it was a privilege and a duty after writing so many books about aliens to actually meet some real live ones. Of course, never in a million years had he ever envisioned this kind of contact being so brazenly ceremonial. Now, Long Jack Neville was as proud as any man to wave his entire flag
—
but this all seemed so traditional.

The Saurian in the yellow robe seemed to be having about as much fun as he was, Neville noted as the beast walked over to shake hands. No doubt it had been Kemp who had instructed the creature in hand shaking. These things probably twined tails or something.

With his best PR smile Neville extended his own hand, took the Saurian’s leathery hand, and pumped.

“Hey. Name’s Neville. Long Jack Neville, and I know you don’t know me but I’m quite famous among my people and I’ve been writing about this kind of thing for a long time and it’s a real privilege to finally put my hand where my words have been, if you know what I mean.”

The Saurian extending the greeting did not respond. Its face betrayed no emotion. But the creatures about it seemed quite nervous and agitated, and Neville could not tell why.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything, friend?” Neville said. “I mean, you might as well make use of these boxes they’ve got strapped on to translate. We could have a real fine conversation. I must say, you all are a sight friendlier than some of the fellows I’ve conjured up from this old bean.”

The first fireworks went off. Normally, Neville loved fireworks. He would set a bunch off in his backyard every time he published a book
—
he made a party of it, inviting friends. But now, in the middle of all this, they somehow seemed, well, crass.

Besides, they seemed to unnerve the natives, too.

The group of Saurians surrounding Neville tensed visibly as the sounds of the explosions ripped through the air, punctuating the boisterous phrases of the orchestral music. The warrior lizard standing closest to the old man suddenly swung about violently and rapped the agrarian class member up against the side of his large serpentlike head.

The Saurian shaking Neville’s hand dropped his hold.

“Hey, wait a minute friend!” Neville said. He stepped forward and raised his hand. “Here, let’s finish this properly.”

The Saurian swung his attention back to Neville.

The writer shuddered at the look in the thing’s eye. Certainly not human, and certainly not civilized.

The Saurian opened its mouth, stepped forward a pace, and bit off Dr. John T. Neville’s hand.

Neville wrenched away, his forearm pulsing blood.

Immediately, his maintenance equipment began to howl, which set off the Saurians even more.

“This,” Neville said, “this only happens in ...”

Before he could finish the sentence, he found himself screaming and trying to stagger away from the place. But a Saurian claw detained him.

The Saurians converged on him, nostrils quivering at the scent of the blood pumping from Neville’s arm.

“You’ll hear from my agent!” Neville cried in total panic.

Several of the delegated Saurians threw back their heads and emitted long, sorrowful cries. The sounds were a mixture of pain and anger, rage and madness.

Then the group fell upon Long Jack Neville and, in full view of the cameras, tore the old man apart, piece by grisly piece.

And began to devour him.

* * *

Before the stunned Dr. Lindstrom and the two IASA aides, the science fiction writer was dismembered and decapitated by the frenzied attack of the Saurians. There was an explosion of pink mist in their midst, a sudden pooling of blood on the platform, and the collective screams of both Saurians and humans alike.

“My God!” Phineas yelped as he watched the slaughter take place. He forced himself to his feet and drew out his sidearm, ready to fire into the pack. “Get those people out of there,” he screamed, pushing past Kate Ennis and a cameraman who was suicidally trying to record Dr. Neville’s death.

The grandstands began to empty as panic overtook the crowd. Humans and Saurians alike swarmed away from the scene of the attack. The IASA aides with Mikaela had grabbed her, pulling her back aboard the ornithopter, and then fired a few rounds into the group of suddenly crazed Saurians. To make matters worse, the Saurians had fallen upon Neville’s remains and begun a feeding frenzy to rival anything to be found in the Mesozoic preserve.

Kemp stood firmly in the fleeing crowd and fired into the Saurian mob, felling one of the merchants. One of the others looked up from its bloody repast, its snout smeared with bits of flesh, and roared angrily. Phineas placed a magnum slug in the center of its skull, throwing it back into the midst of the others, who fell upon him and began dismembering him also.

The ornithopter lifted off, hovering above the chaos, spraying the platform with automatic fire. The slugs stitched a pattern of death among the Saurians’ thick hides, and they danced a momentary dance of dying, a reptilian Grand Guignol, and then fell into a bloody heap.

The music and the fireworks continued to erupt in the background as the remainder of the IASA staff gathered together in an armed pack, surrounding all of their kind in a protective circle. Beyond them, the massive throng of Saurian spectators milled about aimlessly, barking and hissing, obviously on the edge of total panic and mass hysteria.

Once Phineas could see that Mikaela had escaped immediate danger and was hovering above the scene in the ’thopter, he tried to arrange his thoughts, to calm down enough to take command. Reaching out for Kate, he pulled her into the center of the circle of IASA staffers. “All right, back to your vehicles! All of you that can, get out of here on the double! Everyone else stay together until we can get some backup.”

“Oh God, Phineas, what’s happening? Oh my god!” Kate Ennis was on the edge of complete panic herself, and he shook her with one hand to steady her. The last thing he needed was for somebody to go crackers on him right now.

Looking through the crowd, he signaled at a communications specialist. The man pushed his way through the crowd as quickly as he could.

“Key up the tactical base HQ. Get us some cargo ’thopters on the fly. We’ve got to get these people out of here ASAP.”

The comm specialist went to work as Phineas looked up at the ornithopter still hovering above the crowd, offering weapons fire cover if it proved necessary. By chance or by design, the group of one hundred or so humans had migrated to the center of the platform, surrounded by the now bare scaffolding of the grandstands. Below, on ground level, the great crowd of Saurians still flowed and mixed like confluent currents of water. There was obvious confusion and panic in the air as the Saurians continued to surround the area. Phineas could not tell if the reptilian horde would attack or not, but he was determined to get everyone out before there was any more bloodshed.

Turning cautiously and surveying the entire scene, Kemp was horrified to see two camera people up in a corner of the grandstands, their equipment still recording every detail of the debacle. My God, they weren’t still sending this down to Earth?

Kemp hustled up two guards and ordered them after the camera crews. As the sound of an approaching formation of cargo ’thopters could be heard in the sky above them, Kemp was trying to imagine what the world audience must be thinking after seeing this total disaster.

* * *

Totally unbelievable. Incredible.

These were the thoughts of Mishima Takamura as he watched the carnage on his portable HV. At first, as many other witnesses would later attest, he was not sure what he had seen. Suddenly the Saurians were on the old man, tearing him limb .from limb, and there was a bloodbath.

He had sat there, stunned into silence and total disbelief, thinking that perhaps the entire thing could have been avoided if he had gone over Kemp’s head and contacted the Joint Chiefs of Staff. But as he watched the portable HV, amazed that the cameras were still rolling, he knew that hindsight was always the best, and that the world of “if” and “should have” was a place where nobody really lived.

But God, what a circus of horrors. The cameras recorded the aftermath with a vicious clarity: the assembly of IASA people huddled together on the platform like a giant rugby scrum, cargo ’thopters dropping down to absorb large pieces of the mob, while the Saurians swarmed about the platform in a state of shock, seized by paranoia and fear and the elements of mass hysteria.

Voiced-over the broadcast were the patched-in voices of two of World Media’s most popular commentators, describing the action with a somber, detached tone, which Mishima assumed was supposed to add a touch of dignity to the ghoulish production. If good taste or decorum had anything to do with it, instead of ratings, the producers would have cut back to Earthside studios long ago. But no, thought Mishima, they were going to hang around just in case the “Sauries” decided to chow down on any more of their friends.

Turning the HV off, Takamura left the lab and headed for the communications room. The one thing he kept thinking as he hurried off was that he wouldn’t like to be in Colonel Kemp’s shoes right about now.

GREGOR KOLENKHOV
had seen enough.

The warning lights on Major Altermann’s consoles were flashing for attention, and there was a cacophony of bleeps and bells signaling all classes of communication trying to get through the board. The major was hard-pressed to validate everything that was coming through.

“Get me Alvarez,” Kolenkhov said. “Level One priority ...”

Altermann punched him through immediately, and a central screen on Gregor’s console snapped and flashed, abruptly conjuring up the harried image of Christopher Alvarez, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

“I was wondering how long it would take you,” Alvarez said. He was a vigorous-looking man in his sixties, but his face appeared drawn and pale.

“I still can’t believe it,” Kolenkhov said. “I can’t believe what we sent out on a worldwide broadcast.”

“I’ve already spoken to Bertholde and Rheinhardt,” Alvarez said. “We’re meeting in the Staff Room in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be there,” said Kolenkhov. “Fuck your mother! What a mess!”

Alvarez nodded grimly. “I’ve told Rheinhardt to put a lid on things as best he can. He wants to send a few shuttles up there with some armed commandos
—
just in case the Saurians give them any more trouble. I told him to go ahead.”

Kolenkhov nodded. “All right, I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

Christopher Alvarez signed off, and Kolenkhov slowly stood up from his chair, stretching and yawning. “Try to take care of this thing, Major, and watch the security codes. Rheinhardt’s put a cover on all our operations concerning Dragonstar till further notice.”

“I’ll catch them as they come in, sir.”

“Good luck, Major.” Kolenkhov headed for the door, thinking that the damned alien ship had been nothing but trouble since they found it. Maybe the best thing to do would be to give the big tin can a kick toward the Sun and let nature take its course.

* * *

Captain Ian Coopersmith had barely had a chance to acclimate himself to his new command as director of the tactical base for the Dragonstar project. Located within the Mesozoic preserve on the Smithsonian Prairie, the force-field-protected base afforded IASA’s tactical arm with a central point of operations that offered quick access to almost any part of the giant cylinder.

He had been watching the documentary broadcast from his command post when the Saurians went berserk, and stared in disbelief and abject horror at what had followed. He had sent out the two cargo ’thopters immediately when he saw what was happening, almost a minute before his base had received the panicky transmission from one of Kemp’s aides. Mikaela had called in from the ornithopter that continued to provide aerial cover for the IASA people. She had been very upset (to put it mildly), but she managed to keep her head enough to give Ian a full accounting.

Thank god Becky had decided against attending the proceedings, he thought. She had not been terribly enamored of the eccentric Dr. Neville after he had attempted to grab her ass during their initial meeting on Copernicus. Ian wished Becky was with him now.

Unfortunately, she had stationed herself at the PSC, the paleontological survey camp, to supervise a series of medical tests that Lindstrom and her people had recently designed.

“Captain, I’ve got a Mayday coming through on the priority channel,” said Sergeant Kinsey, his communications officer. “You want me to patch you in?”

Ian’s comm unit crackled with background noise as a voice came on-line: “This is Barkham in Cargo Two, Captain.”

“Yes, Lieutenant, I copy. Go ahead.”

“Captain, I’ve got a maximum load, on a home-base heading, but I’m having some engine trouble.”

Ian keyed several pads on his console and checked a scanner screen. “Okay, Lieutenant, I’ve got you on the scope. Can you make it back here?”

“Hard to say. I took her up as high as I could so that I could increase the glide path in case I lose total power. My RO says I still have about sixty klicks to go.”

Ian swallowed hard. He had a ’thopter pilot and fifteen passengers over the Mesozoic preserve and threatening to get dumped in the middle of the jungle. On the other side of the Barrier, he was looking at another one hundred plus people who still needed cover and evacuation.

Nothing like a little excitement on your first day back on the job.

After checking Cargo Two’s position, he spoke clearly and calmly into the mike. “Okay, Barkham, how’s it holding on?”

“Negative, Captain. I’m down eighty percent and fading fast. I’ve got a glide factor of about forty percent, so I’m not going to be getting too far.”

“Okay, Lieutenant, you’re going to have to ditch her.”

“Doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time,” said the pilot. “Any suggestions?”

“Only one. You should be approaching the old Saurian ruins, about twelve degrees east of your present position. Your best shot is to try to touch down within the stone walls of the ruins. Try to get everybody up on one of the ziggurats, and you’ll all be reasonably safe till I can get some people in there to get you out. Do you copy that?”

“I’ve got you, Captain. Been looking for a visual on the ruins, but nothing yet.” The pilot’s voice was beginning to show signs of strain. “Losing power and altitude fast.”

“You should be almost above it,” Coopersmith said. “It probably looks very overgrown from the air. Look for the peaks of gray stone.”

There was no immediate response from the speaker
—
only a
whomp-whomp
of background noise.

“I see it. Man, we almost went right past it. Okay, Captain, I’m going to take her in. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll make it. Just be cool, Barkham.”

The lieutenant provided Ian with a running commentary as he lowered the cargo ’thopter closer and closer to the jungle of the Mesozoic preserve. The ruins of the old Saurian city were not a large target, but there should be ample room to make a crash landing, and the stone temples would provide better than adequate protection from most of the carnivores.

Watching his screens closely, Ian followed the descent of the crippled aircraft as he listened to the narration of Lieutenant Barkham. “Two hundred meters and closing. I can see the stone wall. Almost down now. Okay, we’re going to make it. Hang on.”

The speakers crackled with the sounds of mayhem for a few very long moments, then Barkham’s voice penetrated the chaos. “Captain, I did it. This thing won’t be flying again very soon, but we’re down. Inside the walls, I think.”

“All right, Lieutenant, nice job,” Ian said, thinking quickly. “Take stock of your passengers, get back to me with a report, then try to get everybody up to some high ground, up in one of the pyramids. Okay?”

“Affirmative, Captain. I’ll be back on channel ASAP. Barkham out.”

Ian keyed off the channel and checked the HV screens that had been carrying the documentary broadcast. Mercifully, the live transmission had been stopped, replaced by a studio shot. IASA brass must have finally cut the damned thing off. Talk about embarrassing. He wouldn’t be in Kemp’s place right now for anything.

Turning back to Kinsey, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Perspiring like a son of a bitch already, and the fun had just begun. “What’s the latest from Hakarrh?”

“Not too good, Captain.”

* * *

Phineas had almost fallen into the false hope that the Saurians who milled about the stage in stunned confusion would eventually disperse. When the huge throng finally erupted into violence, he truly believed he was going to die.

He was not certain how the riot had started, but suddenly there was a chorus of screaming and yelling, and there was automatic gunfire spraying into the crowd from both the armed guards and the hovering ornithopter.

It was a nightmare. An outdoor slaughterhouse. The Saurians, teetering on the edge of panic and primordial terror and violence, had finally slipped over the brink. They had begun by attacking each other, ripping and slashing into their own ranks with a mindless rage. It was a pitched battle with no defined sides, no structure or rationale. And it was only a matter of time before the Saurians began to flow upward and crash over the edge of the grandstands and platform like cresting waves in a storm. Despite the small-arms fire of the IASA guards and the cover from the ornithopter, the Saurians continued to advance upon them, and Phineas had no choice but to assume command.

Gaining the attention of those around him, he began to lead the pack down the back of the platform. His only hope was that they could make a run for the temple boulevard, and make their way back into the alien crew section of the Dragonstar. It was either that or remain in their present position until they ran out of ammo, whereupon they would be slaughtered like cattle.

As the mass of people began to work their way off and away from the platform, the seething, frenzied pack of the Saurians surged up and over the scaffolding, collapsing platform and grandstands. Looking back, Phineas could see that some of his charges were being caught in the crumbling debris, but he rallied them, urging them forward down the boulevard toward the temple.

The ornithopter carrying Mikaela continued to supply air cover with automatic weapons fire but was now forced to be cautious because of the proximity of the Saurians to the IASA crowd. Phineas looked up to see the second cargo ’thopter returning to the platform. Signaling to the aircraft, Phineas directed some of the crowd who were closest to climb aboard as soon as possible.

Before he realized what had happened, Phineas saw that the crowd had panicked and swarmed over the ’thopter like frenzied insects. They battled each other, everyone trying to be the first through the open cargo bay. Jamming and pushing, clawing at one another, the crowd surged forward into the ’thopter. The excess weight and disequilibrium caused the aircraft to tip dangerously close to the platform, its lightly beating airfoils smacking into the heads of some of the crowd.

“Get back!” Phineas cried, even though he knew no one could hear him in the din of the crowd and the engine whine. “Get some of those people out of the way!”

Seeing that it was useless to stop the panic, Phineas grabbed Kate Ennis’s hand and pulled her violently away from the ’thopter. They threaded their way through the mob. Phineas moved quickly, dodging bodies like an expert footballer, looking back to see that the mob had totally overwhelmed the aircraft, stuffing it with bodies so that it would never lift the weight. The ’thopter listed badly to one side, and it was obvious that it wasn’t going anywhere.

To make things worse, the Saurians had stormed the scaffolding of the platform and were converging quickly on the ornithopter.

“Let’s go!” Phineas cried. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

Kate started running with him as they broke free of the main body of the crowd. There were others around them who followed their lead, but the majority of the panicked mass remained about the cargo ‘thopter in the crazy hope that it could save them all. Because of their wild attack, the aircraft would rescue none of them.

As they reached the temple boulevard and began running unhampered, Phineas could see the steps of the temple in the distance. He started to believe that maybe they were going to make it, that maybe they wouldn’t die after all. Where the hell was the small ’thopter, the one carrying Mikaela?

Kemp looked back as they ran, scanning the sky, but he saw no trace of the aircraft.

“What’s the matter?” Kate asked as they ran. “What’re you looking for?”

“The other ’thopter. It’s gone!”

“The little one?” Kate sounded confused as she pushed herself to keep running.

“Yes. It must have been running low on fuel. Looks like we’re on our own now. Come on. Got to keep up the pace now.”

They ran toward the large stone staircase, putting some distance between themselves and the main body of the fray. As they ascended slowly, each riser taking more breath and effort, Phineas looked back and down to see the carnage they had narrowly escaped. The cargo ’thopter was on its side now, literally being torn apart by the crazed Saurians and the heaving mass of bodies that eddied about the wreckage like oily water. Kemp wondered how many would survive this fiasco.

Kate Ennis seemed to have gained her second wind, and she was taking steps with more agility than before. Phineas looked up to the top of the massive set of steps as they reached the halfway point.

Had he seen movement up there?

If there were more Saurians waiting for them at the top, they were finished. Below, there were other stragglers from the grandstands, and beyond them, the moving pack of the Saurians.

“Look!” Kate cried, pointing up.

Phineas could see them too. Standing at the edge, weapons in their hands, people in IASA coveralls motioned Phineas upward. He recognized them as Bob Jakes’s people, and Phineas was never in his life so glad to see a scientist smiling at him.

“It’s okay, Kate, we’re almost there. Just a little bit farther now.”