Hunter's Moon (Cretaceous Station Book 2)

by Terrence Zavecz

  Quint’s monolog,

  Jaws by Peter Benchley

  A lazy, warm breeze drifts across a field of dark green ferns. Dense growth, low scrub palms and some leafy bushes erect a barrier along the edges of the fern grotto broken only by a few isolated pine trees. The full canopy of palm and pine needles block the harsh sunlight from the cool dampness of the fern meadow, complimenting the tallness of the trees. A narrow and moving sweetness in the breeze flows from a clump of trees with small flowers on the edge of the glade. It draws bees to the sweet nectar along with others too small to be noticed by the casual observer.

  Below the flowering trees is a pathway. It is a path deeply worn over the ages into the grass and soil. It has been here for a very long time. The trail’s bottom is worn bare to fallen leaves, trampled grass and bare ground while the sides show the cracked casings of nuts and a few scattered and strangely rounded, brightly colored feathers.

  Singing fills the air. A mix of intricate whistles that climb up and down the octaves, almost seeming to wrap around the low warbles that extend and then trail off into a song of their own. These are the normal sights and sounds of the glade. Sights and sounds now rudely broken as a boisterous laugh interrupts the quiet solitude of a cloistered sanctuary.

  ‘Move it over here. Watch out for those birds!’ Alex Grissom used his Hive-Tab to carry his message over the crushing noise of the bulldozer to scream at Tom Bracken,. They were close enough to the Station so the Hive-Tab communications link still worked. Another mile and they would have to resort to old-fashioned radio contacts.

  Alex had worked on all types of major construction projects in his years as a combat engineer for Blackwave. Their work always drew spectators when they were near populated areas, so he was used to others watching him. Sometimes the spectators got in the way but they always had a respect for the heavy equipment. That didn’t happen here.

  For some reason, the unnatural noise of the bulldozers seemed to draw the locals to the site. ‘Wouldn’t be so bad if they were humans. Dinosaurs are just plain dumb.’ Alex grumbled to himself as he trotted over to the front of the bulldozer where three slender bird-like creatures were rooting through the upturned bushes right in front of the blade. Yelling at them didn’t do any good so you had to push them out of the way.

  Three raptors with long slender jaws filled with small, pointed teeth and slender bodies scratched excitedly in front of the bulldozer. Golden brown feathers like those of a pheasant cover bodies almost as tall as a man and one has a red plume that runs down his back onto the broad tail. Alex walks over while removing the Pulsar Rifle from his shoulder and pokes at the nearest dinosaur, ‘Come on stupid! Do you want to get crushed? Where’s your sense of self …’

  The four-foot high dinosaur turns with a jump as Alex pokes and throws itself at him. Jaws flash out to close on Alex’s jacket arm. The jacket instantly hardens at the area of contact.

  Blackwave Security and Construction forces all wear active body armor when not inside the safe confines of Cretaceous Station. The lightweight, body vapor cooled cloth is environment responsive and covers them from neck to foot. It is capable of hardening locally to stop an ultrasonic bullet or something as light as a mosquito bite. Yet somehow, the mosquitoes seem to find exposed neck and tender wrist areas of skin.

  Alex calmly reaches over, grabs the attacker by the back of the head and gives a good twist. The jaws release his arm, ‘Look, you weigh almost nothing at all, you little twerp and you have only those thin little teeth. Where’s your sense of self preservation?’ Alex held the dinosaur out with his left hand but was careful to block the sharp-toed, kicking feet with his rifle. ‘All this screeching and wailing and your two buddies are just ignoring your problems. Fine buddies you got.’ Alex pushes over with his foot at the other two raptors scrambling around the uplifted brush.

  ‘Those are Ricardoestesia, Alex.’ Dieter Chintz, another Blackwave specialist, called over while trying to hold back his laughter. ‘Remember when they jumped Jon and Todd back at Blackbird Valley? They are supposed to be fish eaters but seem to be pretty dumb even for a dinosaur.’

  ‘Yeah, I remember ‘em. I didn’t like them too much then either. Here! Get back you idiot!’ Alex threw the flailing raptor down the trail and walked over to push the other two off with his foot.

  ‘If they just weren’t so stupid.’ Alex grumbles to no one in particular. ‘They get in the way and Tom here doesn’t have the heart to simply plow them over and don’t remind me about those two guys! I know you shouldn’t say bad things about the dearly departed but life has been a lot easier since those guys haven’t been around.’

  ‘Well Alex, if nothing else, it’s a reminder that you could be having bigger problems than these little guys. I must admit that I don’t miss those two either. They may have bought the farm but it was their fault that the Albertosaurus were able to overrun the station. I wonder what they were doing outside the perimeter anyway. They were supposed to be on sentry duty and not out here getting themselves eaten like that.’

  ‘How about the Troondons? Have they been bothering you?’ Dieter asked.

  ‘No, I see them looking on from the brush occasionally but they haven’t objected to our being here. I think the hadrosaurid meat that Sara’s been putting out has helped but most of all I think the fruit she puts with it has been the big hit. They tolerate us.’

  ‘Yep, I know.’ Dieter replied. ‘The fruit is a special treat for them and some of that was from our first crop of accelerated growth saplings. Fruits haven’t yet evolved into the sweet delicacy in this time frame. That would probably take another couple of million years to get beyond the pulpy seeds we see here. Our giving the fruit to the Troondons is like manna from the gods. In any case, it seems to satisfy them. At least they aren’t trying to push us out of their territory. I wouldn’t like to tangle with a couple of those guys. They aren’t much bigger than us but they are a lot stronger than these little guys.’

  ‘Yeah, a lot smarter too. Let’s walk over to the pillars up ahead. Tom, you’ll be ok for a while. Right?’

  ‘Ok, yep I’ll just keep on trucking here.’

  Alex and Dieter follow a narrow path cut through the brush in a straight line that appears out of place in this tropical growth. A mix of dry, granular sandstone and limestone crunches beneath their boots as they walk through the warm air of the morning.

  ‘At least the mosquitoes aren’t too bad here as long as that breeze continues. In any case we’ve got some work ahead of us. We’ll need to cart over loads of sand from the beach until we can span the river.’ Alex commented to Dieter as they walked. Then a soft yodel sounded and a five foot tall dinosaur with a broad, almost smiling face and a striped, down-covered tail came running over. The dinosaur has a soft glistening bronze down covering her body that reminded him of Korean Pheasant feathers.

  ‘Oh, Hi Molly.’ Alex raised his hand to scratch the Hype under the chin.

  ‘Hi Alex!’ A melodious voice replied.

  ‘Oh, so I’m honored with a greeting today.’ Alex smiled at the dinosaur. ‘I think she’s starting to like me Dieter. She never used to try and talk to me before Buddy and I started hanging around together.’

  Dieter smiled as he looked out over to the edge of the river’s cliffs. ‘She’s not much of a talker is she? Not like Tina or Fozzy. But then she’s a lot older than those guys you know, rather set in her ways. How’s Buddy doing? Get much talk-time out of him?’

  ‘Rarely a word or two. Doesn’t matter though, I owe that big old bird my life.’

  ‘Yeah, everyone saw your Hive Tab recordings of that run out to rescue Gabriel. Let’s get on with this bridge. Why can’t we move the sand crane over to river’s edge here? The whole area’s tidal so anything we dredge will be replaced by the time the starport opens and won’t ruin the view.’

  Alex shook his head, ‘No, I’m concerned about contaminants. We’d be cleaning the SilFuse converters all the time. The river washes down too
much dirt in this area. No, we’ll just have to truck it over until we get the bridge span completed. In the mean time, we’ll fly the second bulldozer over to the starport plateau on the opposite side of the river and begin work on the roadway over there. The route from the bridge to the sea cliffs is shorter over there so we’ll switch operations as soon as possible.’

  ‘We now need to notch an eight foot wide section out of the pillar here and build a small platform for the SilFuse mold. Then we can begin to grow the cantilever section out on this side of the bridge. Anton says we need a three-degree slope on the section and I want to embed the shrink-tungsten rods while we are forming the section. We’ll field-shrink the rods every twenty feet to put the span in compression. I’d normally wait for about three times that distance but Anton wants this section stiff and strong enough so that we won’t have to use external supports.’

  ‘How about the honeycomb sections. You’re still planning on using them for the cross span, right?’

  ‘Yes, their structure will add rigidity to the bridge while lightening the span. The plans call for the installation of an active frequency damper every two hundred yards. This will counter traffic and wind vibration. We don’t want the span vibrating like a tuning fork with our first rainstorm’s breeze down the canyon. We don’t have to worry about expansion and contraction at night from cooling since the whole bridge is mostly silicon under a compressive load. Extremely low coefficient of thermal expansion in silicon you know.’

  * * * * *

  ‘The earth beneath my feet moves. Not the soft, familiar long rumble but a sharp, rapid movement. Rather like the heart of a trapped animal. Quick, rapid thumping and then, a pause. A moment of weakness and fear.’

  ‘Along with it there is a strange new scent in the air. It lingers and then is gone. Strangely familiar yet so very different from any other. There, no wait it’s gone. Again, I can just follow it until … the sound and the scent are one! Strange sound it is. Not like a call or cry. Not like the sameness of a shallow brook over rocks … but sharp and changing. It’s so loud but the scent tells me it’s far away over in this direction. Maybe, just maybe there’s new food there.’

  ‘What’s that? Another, strange scent now fills its edges? Ah, the big water that tastes bad. They are that far away? Who would dare be so obvious? Even the foolish young ones do not travel so noisily.’

  Two dark green bodies skate through the rough undergrowth of the forest. Their forms glide from shadow to shadow. Their bodies blending, forming and fading into the shades of the forest and field as they rapidly move, following the strange scent. Flitting first here and then there to avoid the eye-catching edges of a swift straight movement. Like a raptor’s shadow silently passing over the land at sunset, touching all without sound or scent to mark their hushed passage.

  The new sounds focus each hunter’s mind and they move as one. Their rapid passage ignoring even the tender long-necked nestlings instinctively sobbing at their sensed presence. These would have been a welcome and easy meal on any other day but not today. Not with that sound calling out so plaintively.

  They have always hunted as one. Reactions honed to a quiet certitude of action without the need for signal or cry. Side by side, their passage carries them through open fields and along forest edge. Their goal is just ahead and here the scent trail blossoms in detail, richness and even greater strangeness. There is prey ahead; known, even familiar smells. All are familiar but mixed with a hot, thick musk-like smell that also fills the air. The thickness of it radiates from the heart of the noise and vibration. Now, as they draw nearer, other harsh and very unusual smells mix with that incessant noise.

  The scent trail carries them through the dense forest undergrowth into open brush lands and then on to a rough cliffside. Following the dark shadow of a tall palm, he silently steps to the cliff edge and peers out. Sharp eyes spot movement far below. The cooler air currents rising along the wall below tell him they are a common herd of the large grass eaters. This prey is much too large and aggressive for the brothers but a sharp edge of fear mixes with their scent and that is cause for alarm. He can see as well as feel their nervousness in spite of the distance. Where is the threat?

  Soft and short, the nearby warble carries over to grab his attention. Even with his sharp eyes, he can barely see his brother in the shadows so near. A flick and rustle of neck feathers and a tuft over his brother’s right eye redirects his attention. There is the reason for their fear. Far below, a telltale fern, moving against the breeze, shakes slightly. There, betrayed in the tall shadows, a massive shape rests silently unseen and downwind of the herd. Unseen but still somehow sensed as a threat. Massive, powerful legs, coiled in readiness in the thick growth. Crouching silently, he is as large as the dense growth of trees and vines around him. Two small arms grasp the foliage before him. Powerful jaws, fully as long as his arms, rest slightly open in silent anticipation. The big ones, feared by all, are in their morning hunt.

  He fears the presence of the big hunters, at least enough to interrupt his pursuit of the strange noises and smells. His eyes scan the edges of the herd for always they hunt with more than one. Where are they and the danger they bring? There, another smaller one. Then another is over beyond the herd, frozen and silent it waits lying in the tall reeds. As he watches, two young hunters scream from the bushes and charge into the corner of the herd. Feeding on the tree tops, the already nervous herd animals drop to all four legs and explode in flight away from the threat.

  Three tender juveniles break away from the heard and run directly down the path between two of the larger hunters. As if by signal, the hiding beasts lunge out from each side. One directs a sharp kick to the soft underbelly of the nearest fleeing youngster causing it to stumble into the jaws of the other. The nearer hunter bends in with incredible speed, reaching down to grab the skull of the stumbling animal and, with a sharp flick that lifts the entire animal into the air, snaps the thick neck of the hapless animal. The massive body of the young female arches through the air, spinning across the meadow. The youngster is dead before she hits the ground. A tender snack that will keep the massive hunters occupied safely far below.

  Moving as if one beast, the brothers pull back from their high overlook. Threat forgotten, the scents and trail ahead command their total attention, pulling them deeper into the high brush palmettos and coarse horsetail grass. Along the rock-strewn high cliff top and over an easy stream ready to begin its cascade down into the valley of the river far below. He stops to raise his head and listen, unmoving as his brother passes ahead. He feels his brother stop, lift his head and watch. A moment’s confirmation and he springs ahead, moving warily to the next set of trees across the open ground to once again assume the watchers stance. Closer they travel toward the sounds and scents drawing them to the new feeding ground.

  A movement ahead on the ridgeline across the valley fulfills the hunter’s quest for the source of the symphony of scent and sound. There are several small fleet-footed ones running strangely around a larger one that seems to be the source of the noise. Strange but they don’t seem to fear the larger one as it pushes ground, rocks and even trees before it. Perhaps, one of the smaller tailless ones standing quietly before it might be easy prey. Ah yes, these are the source of one of the new scents, the thick musty smell.

  Together he and his brother move down across the valley with even greater caution, the thrill and excitement of a new hunt already coursing through their bodies.

  * * * * *

  ‘I don’t give a shit if that’s the thermal ramp they taught you to run at the academy.’ Anton yelled at the broad shouldered Blackwave Security engineer before him. ‘This is not some bridge in deep Nigeria we are building. We can’t afford to rush the mix just to have it come crashing down in ten years.’

  Sotak Luti is no beginner at large scale construction projects. He is a West Point graduate and specialist in Civil Engineering. Fifteen successful years with Blackwave Security and as many year
s before that have left him very confident in his abilities. A round eastern European face framed in dense black hair, inherited genes of a Mongol Invasion into their bloodline of a thousand years ago, turns toward Anton. Muscles tense across his broad shoulders but his voice is calm. ‘Look Al, unless you want to sit here for twelve hours while the thing cycles, this is how its done. Now get outta here and let me do my job!’

  Anton strode up to the panel and put his broad hand over Sotak’s raised fist about to set the control. Grabbing his hand, Anton pulled it away while bracing himself for the reaction he knew would come. Sotak simply turned to stare into Anton’s eyes, ‘Why?’

  Calmly Anton released the hand, ‘Look Sotak, this is not a normal bridge and we can afford the cycle time. Listen and learn. The high partial pressure of oxygen in the air and our carbon- tungsten whisker fiber mix here are all different. I ran this through the simulator. This is my project and I’m responsible for the schedule so let’s just do it my way.’

  ‘Ah, OK Al. Sorry about that but if you want it mixed like this then I don’t want to be responsible when Dan hears about the slowdown.’

  ‘Yeah, I understand and I’m sorry about stopping you like that. Tell you what, you go back with Dieter and Alex and see if they need any help. If not then go back and get our next sand shipment started. I’ll sign into the SilFuser log and the ramp cycle responsibility will be mine if any questions come up. No hard feeling huh?’

  ‘Yeah Anton, no hard feelings.’

  Anton turned to reprogram the SilFuser, muttering quietly all the while. ‘These guys learn one way to do something and that’s the way it’s always done. Well, at least he wasn’t pig-headed about it. At least some guys are smart enough to listen to reason.’

  Paul Wenford, the engineering physicist for the team simply rolled his eyes and shook his head. Paul is a six foot, somewhat stocky man with light, almost blond hair surrounding a sun tanned and smiling face. The broad shouldered physique of a collegiate wrestler. ‘Well, give me a little warning Anton the next time you decide on the direct confrontation with someone like Sotak. I’m just here as an observer you know, nothing in my contract about combat.’