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.”
Kate Ennis chuckled as she looked over at him. “You’re the one that’s turning blue, Colonel. I’m doing fine.”
Nearing the top of the steps, Phineas could see more of the people from Jakes’s research team. It appeared as if the entire staff of laboratory workers had come down to offer any help they could. Phineas saw Mishima Takamura standing off to the side issuing orders with a bullhorn, and he smiled. Takamura was a young, dynamic kind of guy, and he was certainly the type to organize a bunch of scientists into a SWAT team.
“Colonel Kemp, a
re you all right, sir?” One of the research staffers was standing over him, offering a hand up and over the final step.
“I’m fine,” Phineas said, taking the man’s hand. It was a terrible lie—his knees and ankles were crying out for mercy, and the muscles in the small of his back were cramping up like knotted clumps of wet rope.
Turning, he and the scientist helped Kate to the top of the steps. Beyond their position the stone facade of the Saurian priests’ temple rose up against the polished metal of the cylinder wall. Kate looked at the ancient structure with awe and fascination. She had seen holographs of this part of the ship but had not actually been so close to the artifacts.
“Feeling all right, Ms. Ennis?” Phineas asked, taking her hand.
“This beats hell out of jogging, I can tell you that.” She forced a smile. “Look, here come some more.”
Looking down the steps, Phineas could see others who had managed to escape the Saurians and the cargo ’thopter disaster. Of the original crowd, it appeared as if perhaps fifty survivors would make it to safety. Kemp studied the faces of those who clambered up the temple steps, wondering who was going to make it and who was not.
Mishima Takamura apparently spotted Phineas, because he had dropped the bullhorn to his side and was trotting over toward him. Takamura was a young man in his thirties, with dark eyes and hair, of medium height and a little on the lean side. He had always impressed Phineas as an intense, serious, and very intelligent man. There was a fire burning behind his eyes that you couldn’t miss, and he always spoke in a direct, solemn tone of voice.
“Colonel Kemp, are you all right?” Takamura asked.
“Yes, I think so. It was a real mess down there.”
DS02 Night of the Dragonstar Page 15