Bootstrap Colony

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Easy bud,” Mitch said. Mitch paused the image. “See, it has a lot of things similar to Terran animals, it has lobster claws, but acts like a mantis. See this? It has eyes on eye stalks, looked like...” He counted silently, “Four, no six. Four antenna too.”

  He pressed play, watched as it froze as the lights lock onto it. “See the rippling? In the dark it is dark, but the shell seemed to be able to change color and texture. How much you want to bet it has some sort of chrometaphore ability?” he asked and then sighed. Paul grunted. The creature turned and tried to amble away.

  “Hmm slow moving, but its attack is fast. Ambush hunter. Look.” He paused the video again. “See that?”

  “What the branches?” Paul asked, confused.

  “Not just branches, but possibly symbiosis. It is either growing those plants on its back, or cutting branches and placing them there.” Mitch answered.

  “Why would it do that?” Paul asked, now intrigued.

  “Probably camouflage. Wanna bet this thing imitates a tree during the day?”

  Paul got a faraway look then paled. “Yeah, stock still with that skin looking like bark...” He shuddered.

  Mitch nodded. “Yeah, we have to pass that along, be careful in the woods. This thing might be what Phyllis and Vanessa ran into earlier.”

  “I am just glad we didn’t run into one while we were on foot last year,” Paul said softly.

  Mitch nodded. “Yeah, I went wood cutting with Brian a few times too, glad I didn’t run into one of these.” Paul shuddered a little. “They may need the water to be more active. I don’t know,” Mitch mused and then shrugged.

  “Another predator though! How many are we going to find?!” Paul replied, bewildered at the thought.

  “Well, remember, the aliens said this is a reserve. Kind of like a zoo. I think of it more like an ecological dumping ground. They said they have been dumping species from many planets here just before they go extinct. What makes you wanna bet we have quite a combination here? Dozens of worlds? Plants, animals... The food chain in some areas is probably a snarled mess,” Mitch observed.

  Paul nodded. “Yeah, I can gather.”

  Mitch shrugged. “Well, I bet they have evolved into that migration thing as well. The temporal herds migrate south for the winter to warmer climates, while the arctic animals go south into this area. When the seasons turn the reverse happens, the arctic crew pulled out and the temperate herds return.” He paused in thought. “Same for predators most likely they follow the herds.”

  Paul looked quizzical, and then grinned. “Yeah, sounds possible.”

  Mitch nodded. “Yeah, we haven’t seen any wolves lately. During the winter no raptors.”

  Paul nodded. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do remember that.”

  “Yeah, and in fall the hell cats and demon dogs disappeared according to Jack,” Mitch added.

  “I bet the furry creatures head north or up the mountains to beat the heat just like everyone else. This planet has a pretty strong plant cycle; I mean everything is extremely rich in nutrients, so I bet it helps the fauna grow fast.”

  “Fauna?” Paul asked.

  “Animals.”

  “Oh, okay. Right boss.”

  “If everything wasn’t so damn wet I would take a crew to the tree line and cut a few trees to use as defenses.”

  Paul looked alarmed. “What about those creatures?”

  “We can check with IR goggles and of course we would be armed. Moot point anyway, everything is wet, the chain saws would bind up pretty quick.”

  Paul nodded, he looked relieved. “Had me scared there for a moment boss,” he admitted.

  Mitch smiled. “Remind me to get the motor home back from Mike; this leg is too much of a pain not to have it.”

  Paul nodded. “Yeah, it is a bitch,” he said as he turned to the flatbed trucks, he took note of a couple logs on one.

  “Hmmm.”

  Paul looked over. “Yeah, we could use them. South side?”

  “Yeah, good idea.”

  “Okay boss we’ll get on it.”

  “Wait a moment Paul. The flatbed too,” Mitch said pointing to the near empty trailers.

  “Huh?”

  “Nudge the flatbeds over then tip them on their sides,” Mitch said. Paul looked dubious. “It won’t hurt them any Paul. We can winch them back when we break camp. Knock over one per side.”

  “Roger. I got it,” Paul said. Motioning to Sam, he had Sam put a team together to help, and another to moved rocks from the camp site to the perimeter to fill any additional holes.

  They raced against the setting sun, aware they were running out of time, and called a fast lunch break just as the ominous southern sky turned dark once more. Noting it they rushed back to work. The crash of one of the flatbeds tipping over startled the girls awake. Doc came out to see what was going on, and after a hurried explanation from a harried Paul nodded in understanding.

  She watched Mitch pitching in, pulling on the lines of a block and tackle to ease a flatbed over, and then she turned and fished out a pair of gloves and joined in. Cassie stretched, got a drink and ambled over just as the last one was flipped. “Whatcha doin?” she asked. Sam nudged the bobcat controls to move the flatbed over.

  “Afternoon sleepyhead,” Mitch teased, smiling to mean no offense. Cassie took a long sip and then shrugged.

  “She can sleep through a hurricane,” Doc said dryly. Cassie grinned sheepishly.

  “We are going to be stuck here a while longer, so we are setting up better defenses.”

  Cassie blinked and looked around. “Oh. Good idea,” she observed. She looked over to the south, just as the first fat dropped of water began to fall. “Shit!” She grimaced and ran for the truck.

  Doc ambled off, “I have got to pee before being cramped into that truck!” Mitch chuckled, pointed to the nearby latrine pit then turned his back on it as she went over. He had Paul rigged some of the tarps to the inside of the flatbeds as impromptu pup tents for those stuck there.

  A few hours later the storm broke in full force and they all ducked for cover. Paul called out a moment later, hollering that they have movement south by south west.

  Checking the indicated area Mitch felt a spurt of adrenaline at the sight of one of those monster lobsters trundled out of the tree line toward them. Another call from the other side had him turn to look; a pack of raptors had made a kill nearby. The pack was large, over forty strong. The lobster stopped, then turned to the kill and trundled to it.

  One of the raptors looked up and turned, hissing a screech then cawing. The others turned, dripping bloody muzzles turned to look at the intruder. The alpha raptor pair gave a clucking call, and then began to display.

  The lobster stopped, moving its claws out in a washing motion, then continued forward. Shrieking in anger the pack flanked and then encircled the creature. One of the raptors seemed to find an opening and courage so it attacked, darting in a mock attack. A swift hammer claw sent the raptor jumping back. The lobster stopped, turned in place, watching the raptors. The raptors angled to try to attack from behind; one darted in and tried to savage a limb, only to be nearly struck by a fist.

  The lobster’s claw got stuck in the muck. It tugged on it a few times. Sensing victory the pack moved in to the kill, several rushing in. With a sucking sound the lobster got its claw free and hammers a raptor as it jumped sending it tumbling off into the night. The other claw slammed a raptor juvenile to the ground, pinning it with a crunching sound of breaking bones. It mewled for a few moments and then stopped moving. The raptors cut in, and Mitch winced as the sound of nails on a chalk board, or at least claws on chitin could be heard, even over the sounds of the rain and battle.

  Mitch noted one of his people nearby shouldering their gun to fire and he pushed the barrel down. “Wait. Maybe they will take their battle elsewhere.” He raised his voice. “Hold your fire folks, let them duke it out, no sense wasting ammo.”

  Sam muttered: �
��Fight of the century, and I don’t know which side to bet on!”

  Paul looked over, “Ours of course,” he growled.

  Sam snorted. He waved to the others to keep an eye on their sectors.

  The battle continued, the raptors were darting in more and more, and it took a few attacks before Mitch realized they were attacking the joints. “Hmm, either they are smart, or have been up against one of these before,” Mitch mused. Paul shrugged. One of the juveniles was too slow, it got grabbed by a claw, held up and then cut in half. The free claw smashed down, striking another raptor sending it tumbling.

  Suddenly with a low moan and loud crack the creatures left leg buckled, one of those darting attacks had struck home. It limped for a second, and then another strike hit the other side, sending it down onto its side. The raptors attacked from behind, chewing and scraping at the back. “Sounds like nails on a chalk board,” Doc muttered. One raptor darted near the rear, a loud crunch could be heard as it tore into the rear and underside of the lobster mantis.

  With one claw pinned the creature couldn't fight back effectively. Its thrashing turn to quivers then stopped altogether when one of the raptors darted in from behind and ripped the head off.

  They watched the victors dance and caw, dripping feathers flashing as they swung about in an obvious show of victory. Mitch shook his head. Eventually the raptors settled down and divided into groups.

  The raptors set into feasting, while the humans watched warily. Someone coughed and it attracted the attention of a few raptors, but they quickly returned to their meal. The raptors on perimeter watch gave a stuttering cry, ambling side to side, but remained where they were, and eventually returned their attention to the forest.

  The raptors cleaned house, tearing into both carcasses and their own dead. A few of the surviving juveniles managed to tear off chunks and lug them off. The wet crunching sounds sicken a few people, who looked away in distress. Paul kept a wary eye out for trouble however. Mitch asked if he wanted to get some sack time and Paul shook his head no, no way he could sleep with those things around. Mitch patted him on the shoulder. “Okay. You have first watch.” He detailed three others to keep watch, then the rest into two groups for later watches. “Sam will wake the second group in four hours folks so rack out while you can,” Mitch ordered.

  When day broke Mitch got a couple volunteers and took his hummer to the remains. The raptors had left, but had stripped both carcasses clean, even the bones of their kill were taken.

  Only the ichor in the grass and the cracked shells of the lobster remained behind for the bugs and small scavengers to pick over. “They even took their dead,” one of the girls observed, nervously watching the forest for signs of movement.

  “Why the bones?” Paul asked.

  “Bones?” Mitch looked up from examining a shell. “They have marrow inside. Crack them open and suck it out. I doubt the lobsters had bones though,” Mitch replied. He fingered the shell thoughtfully.

  Paul looked away, the girl gulped and turned greenish. “Yeah, it may also be a way to keep them busy too. Like a toy.”

  “Okay too much information,” the girl snarled. The girl was definitely a little green around the gills.

  Paul looked over to her and then shook his head. “Well be glad he hasn’t decided to try that with the day care group.” The girl gave him a horrified look then stormed off back to the encampment.

  Mitch chuckled. “Maggie will want to get a look at these so let’s see if we can bundle them up and bring them back.” One of the guys gagged, but began dragging the pieces together. Mitch pulled out a kit and sampled the ichor.

  Chapter 15

  Nearly a week later a filthy, itchy convoy wearily pulled into base. Anne, Lisa, and a few others were the greeting group, but winced and wrinkled their noses at the awful pong as the group got out of the vehicles. Mitch wearily shrugged and pointed out they didn’t have baths, but plenty of showers, or at least the natural variety. Sara shook her hair out, and made a beeline for the shower, some of the other women hard on her heels.

  Maggie approached, then thought again, and kept her distance. Mitch smiled. She told him that the armadillo’s were doing a better job at pest control, so they discontinued spraying. Sean piped up: “They even use the litter box! And it looks like the cats are ignoring them, or at least only batting around the babies.”

  Doc and Mitch nodded. “Okay, just keep them under control. You two write up a report and then have Pete read it off to Mike and Jack. Both have pest problems too. Maybe we can round up a couple critters and send them there way.”

  “Trouble with tribbles,” Doc muttered.

  He turned to her with a mock glower. “They are NOT tribbles! Tribbles were furry and born pregnant,” Mitch mock growled. Doc snorted, and then giggled. Maggie and Sean look confused. “Trek,” Mitch said by way of explanation. He gave them a sidelong look, and then continued his glare at Doc who was snickering.

  Mags face cleared, and then she looked to Doc, “Never figured you for a Trekkie Doc.” She snorted.

  Sean looked even more confused. “I don’t get it!”

  “Ancient history kid, I’ll tell you about it sometime. Or you can you can pull it up in the library when you have time,” she said, waving to the ceiling. “I have been meaning to ask, how the heck did you manage all those videos?” Mitch shrugged. She put her hands on her hips. “You’re not getting out of it that easy bub,” she growled. He snorted.

  “I hired an Audio Visual team that bought a list of material I wanted, and anything else my team thought would help or be interesting,” he explained. She nodded. “I also grabbed anything popular, and of course my own library.”

  Maggie nodded. “I gathered that from the rather extensive Sci-Fi collection.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Well, we don’t really need it since we’re living it.” He shrugged and spread his hands. “It does come in handy though,” he commented thoughtfully. Doc nodded.

  Maggie waved Sean back to the vet area. Mitch watched them leave then turned his glower to Doc, but can’t hold it and it turned to a chuckle. “Okay Doc, go get your shower. I am going to piss Janet off and raid the fridge while I wait,” he said with a mischievous grin. She snorted.

  Janet came in sometime later and screeched up a storm at seeing him standing against the counter tearing into a reheated steak. “Nice to see you too Janet. I did wash my hands and arms you know,” he said diffidently.

  She cursed a bit and he smiled as she waved a wooden spoon threateningly at him. “Just like the kids!” He laughed, wiping his face on his sleeve, and then made a show of washing his hands. He wiped up with the towel hanging nearby, and then tossed it at her chest. She grabbed it, dropping the spoon with a clatter and instinctively twitched the towel into neat folds. He laughed and gave her a jaunty salute as he headed for the showers before she could recover her spoon.

  Maggie the vet came out after doing the necropsy on the hammerhead creature. She removed her rubber gloves from her hands with a snap and then rinsed her hands and forearms. “Well, it is a new one in my book,” she said. Mitch came in, gave her a look. She repeated the comment.

  He chuckled. “Ma’am, we are writing all new books on humanity.” She gave him a sidelong look and then smiled and turned to continue washing.

  “Yeah... but I could just imagine my college professor taking a look in that room, he would be all over it to write the papers on it,” she finally said.

  He laughed. “Yeah, well Doc Mags, what do you think?”

  “Well, first off you're right, it does have gills, and by the look of them salt water, though we would have to check the tissue cultures to be certain. Cassie is right about the melon, it definitely shares a lot of similarity to a dolphin’s echo location.”

  “The damn thing has eyes on the stalks, but the stalks are angled slightly inward to give it some forward vision. The rim of the stalks have what look like electrical detectors, but I will have to check the database t
o compare them to something.” She shook her head and sighed. “There are a lot of other things like a Terran shark, the jaw, teeth, and double eyelids. Oddly the throat has a voice box.”

  “Yeah they vocalized, seemed intelligent,” Mitch replied. She grimaced.

  “Yeah, but I bet they send and receive a lot of information with that melon. The skin is purplish black, and it seems to lack UV protection, again I need a lab check to confirm. Definitely nocturnal.” She looked up as he handed her a towel.

  “The eyes are a brilliant touch, I bet they can’t see in color, but the lenses look like they can focus low level light to almost daylight ability. So normal light would hurt a lot.”

  She smiled and he nodded. “Yeah, we noticed that,” he said dryly.

  She shrugged. “The skeleton is a mix of bone, cartilage, and a spongy material I haven’t seen before. There is a second part of the front shoulders; it looked like a leg that fused into the fin there that folds back against the body above the front shoulders.” She folded the towel and hung it back on its rack.

  “The body has some streamlining, and the legs seem to be able to fold up under the body to minimize drag when it is in the water.” She moved her arms to her chest, tucking them in and clutching them there. “I bet they can then control themselves in the water with those pectoral fins and the head. Doc was right about the feet, tridactyl front feet, with clutching ability. Rear has three toes, with claws and webbing. Those fins have muscles to spread or retract them. Tail is pretty musculature, possible swimming. Liver is big, but not too big,” she paused in thought. “I would say these creatures are partially aquatic, maybe nomadic. I doubt they could survive the winter here,” she finished, sounding almost hopeful.

  He nodded. “Think they are seasonal?”

  She sighed, “Yeah that would be my guess based on circumstantial evidence. They probably build up fat reserves on land, then return to the sea and migrate to warm waters for winter.”

  “Okay Doc, thanks.”