by Adam Carter
And then the world exploded and the crocodile screamed in rage. Whitsmith had never before heard a crocodile scream and at first did not equate the noise with the animal; but the explosion helped clear her mind and suddenly she knew she had to move if she wanted to survive. Stumbling as she rose, she could see Hudson discarding the rocket launcher, proving it could indeed only be fired once before needing a reload, and was thankful she had kept the woman so close to her.
But Hudson was not looking at Whitsmith, and looked more shocked than she had ever seen her before.
Whitsmith spun about to see the crocodile coming for her still. Perhaps the shot had missed, perhaps the armoured hide really was more impressive than any of them had figured upon. Either way the crocodile was charging for her as fast as its four fat legs could carry it, its maw wide open and yawning for the kill.
To her credit, Whitsmith did not scream. Her mind panicked, but this time her body reacted. She had re-holstered her pistols when she had bent to examine the bank, but her fingers clutched around a large fallen branch and she held it out before her as though the pale and dying leaves upon its end would be enough to fend off the attack of an angry prehistoric horror.
The crocodile snapped at her, its head as large as Whitsmith’s entire body, her branch not even noticed by the attacking monster. Whitsmith felt the jaws stroke her leg and she pulled it back just as the crocodile twisted its head and would have taken the leg from her body. Releasing her hold upon the useless branch, Whitsmith drew both her pistols and fired repeatedly into the monster’s head. It was the first time she had ever had to fire a weapon during an outing, and as her bullets pinged uselessly off the creature’s armoured hide she knew with absolute certainty it would be her last.
A terrible roar tore the air and Whitsmith jumped, more surprised to see the crocodile had started also. Then she caught the coppery stench of freshly spilled blood and saw the side of the creature awash with blood. She could see Hudson now, to one side, lying on her belly and lining up for another blast of her shotgun. The shotgun was not a weapon designed to be fired from such a position, and Whitsmith could imagine the recoil alone was tearing into the other woman’s shoulders. But Hudson had realised the only way to effect any sort of damage upon the deionosuchus was to attack its underbelly, and that the underbelly of a crocodile, even a ten metre one, was almost impossible to reach.
The deionosuchus twisted its body as it snapped at her in anger, and Whitsmith watched as the monster scuttled towards her on its four squat legs at the speed of a gazelle with a cheetah at its back. But Hudson did not panic, did not flee; she simply lined up another shot and pulled the trigger. The shotgun sprayed its lethal charge into the monster’s face, slicing through the inside of its mouth and shredding one eye. The deionosuchus thrashed in pain and anger, slipping noisily into the bog. One moment it had been bearing down upon Whitsmith, the next it was gone.
Whitsmith stared at the water, her mind telling her to move, her every conscious thought telling her that to move was to die. The waters settled and the crocodile did not return, and soon enough it was as though the beast had never been there at all.
“You can get up now,” Hudson said sardonically. She was reloading her shotgun and collecting the rocket launcher she had discarded earlier. Hudson made no attempt at all to hide the disdain she felt for Whitsmith, and her voice had triggered something within Whitsmith which told her she was still alive. Until that moment it was as though her body had been held in some static limbo, but now her brain was free to move once more she began to realise she was still alive. Her body shook uncontrollably and she clenched tight her eyes to force herself to calm. It would be stupid to survive the encounter only to have Hudson despise her for it. Within just a few short months Hudson would have found a way to use her weakness against her and Whitsmith might as well have died this day after all.
“So much for your raptor theory,” Hudson said.
“Just because that crocodile attacked,” Whitsmith said, trying to beat down her anxiety over the entire mess, “it doesn’t mean there aren’t dromaeosaurids out here.”
Hudson raised her eyebrows as she finished loading her shotgun, but said nothing.
Whitsmith knew this was the moment. She would have to impress the other woman at least a tiny bit, else she might as well dunk her head in the bog now and get it over with. “The tracks,” Whitsmith said, “still indicate a creature which walks on two legs. The crocodile, I think you might have seen, walked on four.”
Hudson seemed faintly amused. “Go on.”
“There’s nothing else to say. The evidence points to a two-legged dinosaur out here. And since most two-legged dinosaurs were carnivores, and since we do have a lot of dromaeosaurid sightings around here, it stands to reason there is a dromaeosaurid out here and that was what our people saw yesterday.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
Whitsmith knew what she meant, but was surprised Hudson had picked up on it. “Are you asking me whether I believe the thing we’re after is a dromaeosaurid?”
“You’ve told me it’s the most likely thing: not what you think it is.”
“All right. I don’t think it’s a dromaeosaurid, no.”
“Because raptors always hunt in packs.”
Whitsmith was indeed impressed, but, if she let Hudson know that, it removed any authority she had over her. If Hudson was as good as Whitsmith in the only thing Whitsmith had been better at her in, it negated the need for Whitsmith at all.
“The tracks were not left by a large carnivore,” Whitsmith said. “They were too small. But no, I don’t think they were left by a dromaeosaurid either.”
“So what were they left by?”
Whitsmith smiled coyly. “I have a pretty good idea, don’t worry about that.”
Hudson’s faint smile played about her lips once more and Whitsmith could detect even a grudging respect for her at last. “OK, I’ll go with that. Lead the way, Whitsmith. I got your back.”
Whitsmith walked ahead of her. She wished she had the first idea of what it could be they were hunting.
CHAPTER FOUR
The blonde soldier was named Aura Torrance, and she was a private in whatever army she served. Dexter Valentine had taken her back to his office and made her some tea from leaves his people had been cultivating in the swamp. It was far from what he had been used to at home, but over the years Valentine had grown somewhat accustomed to the taste. Now that they were sitting more comfortably, Valentine could see her forename printed onto her armour. It was a rather odd thing to do, but he supposed it must have been a current fashion. Torrance sipped at her cup and made an appreciable face. She had also taken two biscuits, which was annoying since Valentine had only offered her the one.
Torrance had revealed little since accepting Valentine’s offer of hospitality. While he was growing keener to get to know her as a person, what he really wanted to know was whether she had anything to do with the prison. That it had taken five years for someone to realise the prison guards had not reported in was unlikely, and even factoring in how long it would take to organise some soldiers and get them from Earth to Jupiter, it still seemed ludicrous that five years would have passed before they arrived. He had to assume therefore they were here for entirely different reasons, and had indeed just stumbled upon their prison. Valentine could tell, however, that it did not matter how young Torrance was, she was far from stupid. She had worked out back on the roof that Valentine was not here studying the dinosaurs and likely knew precisely what had happened to the prison guards. Unless he came outright and told her, he doubted she would do anything about it. That she was awaiting the arrival of her entire unit may have meant she was simply distracting him until they could come in force and arrest him.
Since there was nothing Valentine could do about that anyway, he decided he would entertain his guest as the most gracious host he could be.
“I must say,” he mentioned as he poured her more te
a, “all the soldiers I’ve ever met were ugly brutes.” In fact, there were more than a couple in the prison. “Io must have a great lack of ugly brutes, I take it?”
“We have mandatory conscription at eighteen,” Torrance explained. She had removed some of her bulkier armour, but retained her uniform and light metals. Her form was slim and athletic, as Valentine would have expected of a soldier. She also carried the requisite knives and guns, although for a man who relished the danger of a true challenge, it only made the young woman more appealing. “We get one year of hard training,” Torrance continued, “and then we’re shipped off-world somewhere for proper graft.”
“So this is your first assignment?”
“Are you asking me my age?” she asked with a winning smile.
“Well I wouldn’t have said you were a day older than eighteen, but this is no training ground so I must be your first assignment.”
She seemed pleased by his words, although it was only her eyes which said as much to him. She seemed to have no intention of saying anything she was actually thinking.
“So what exactly,” Valentine continued in as casual an air as he could manage, “is your assignment here. You didn’t exactly say.”
“I’m not sure I’m allowed to, Mr Valentine.”
“Please, call me Dex.”
Torrance did not even try to hide her smile, and he could see now her companion had departed she had allowed her proverbial hair down.
“We’re not here to cause any trouble with your research,” she promised him. “When Hunter comes back with our sergeant perhaps you’ll find out, but until then I can’t really tell you much. You wouldn’t want to get me in trouble would you, Dex?”
Valentine was taking a sip of his tea at the time and almost choked at the coy twinkling to her eyes. He coughed, settling the cup back into its saucer. “Farthest thing from my mind,” he said. He assumed Hunter was the other woman who had confronted him on the roof but knew it would be a stupid question to ask. “How long do you think until they get here?”
Torrance shrugged. “Are you asking whether we have time for a little personal tour of your facilities, Dex?”
“You want to see the building?”
“Wasn’t thinking of leaving this room actually.”
Valentine shifted uncomfortably. Torrance was certainly younger and more attractive than any of the prisoners on this rock, but she was also an unknown quantity and he tended to keep those at as great a distance as he could. Nor was he used to having attractive women practically throwing themselves at him, and his ordered mind fought for a snappy response which would make her laugh but let her know he was not at this precise moment interested.
He opened his mouth but no words at all came out.
Torrance laughed anyway, which had been half his intent. “You know what they say about soldiers,” Torrance said, rising from her seat and perching herself on the desk before him. She rested one foot upon his chair and took his tie in strong, delicate fingers, sliding them all the way down before replacing them at the top and repeating the process. “About how we could die any day so make the most of what time we have?”
Again Valentine tried to speak, although his voice came out strangled. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You haven’t been in the army long enough to be thinking that, surely?”
She pouted in contemplation. “First assignment they send me to the dinosaur world, Dex. That’s what they call this place back home. The forbidden dinosaur world. Like the Garden of Eden, some folks say. Just with more snakes.” She smiled, her eyes shining. “The most exciting place in the solar system. And everyone needs a little excitement in their life, right, Dex?”
Torrance had worked slowly, leaning closer to him while at the same time pulling him gently from his chair towards her. Her full, moist lips formed an almost perfect O of contemplation, her cute, rounded face mere inches from his own. He could smell her now, the sweet aroma of honey glaze, and found her presence intoxicating.
But this would not solve anything. These people could very well have been sent here to investigate what had become of the prison guards, and this could have simply been an attempt at interrogation. The most bizarre interrogation he had ever known from the army, he reflected as he stared into Torrance’s penetrating blue eyes.
She was playing with his mind, whether she realised it or was doing so only as a by-product of her genuine lust. Valentine needed to be in control of every situation, needed to know everything about everyone before he committed to anything; and he would never let down his guard. Aura Torrance may have been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but she was too much of an unknown for him to risk lowering his defences.
“I think a tour of the prison would be best after all,” he said, trying not to gaze directly into her eyes but failing miserably.
Her eyes twinkled brighter at this. “It’s interesting you still think of this place as a prison, Dex, considering you have no idea what happened to the prisoners.”
Valentine was up in an instant, rising with such force that Torrance actually fell backwards, her elbows slamming audibly into the table beneath her. She raised her eyebrows as she looked up at him, and Valentine, flustering over everything he was doing wrong in this scenario, straightened his tie and fumbled over his words. “A tour of our operation, yes,” he said. “Then you’ll see how serious we are about our dinosaur research.”
Torrance’s shock and indecision had vaporised by this point, and she walked back to where she had left her armour resting on the floor. She purposefully made a show of bending slowly to retrieve it, and Valentine averted his eyes from the view she was presenting him. She took her time in replacing the armour, as though giving him as much time as he needed in order to change his mind, but Valentine was resolute. Each second ticking by was agony for him, for by this point he wanted nothing more than to throw the young woman back upon the desk and relieve both their frustrations. But Valentine was nothing if not organised, and his brain screamed to him this would have been a very bad idea indeed.
Finally Torrance was ready. She even looked a little annoyed as she faced him once more. He felt he had wronged her in his refusal and hoped he had not just made an enemy. But she smiled regardless, refusing to let him see her true feelings. “Lead on, Mr Valentine.”
Valentine winced as he opened the door for her to precede him. Which she did, with head held high.
This, he feared, was going to prove a most uncomfortable tour.
He decided to begin with the actual research area. His people were of course not in the swamp because they wanted to be, but since they were still living in the prison they had through necessity had to make some investigations into the native wildlife. Aubrey Whitsmith was of course the main authority on such things, but even without her there were people who had taken up the task of researching the animals. Criminals, after all, were as much a snapshot of society as any other group. Valentine did find they had more than their average of senseless brutes, but if they did not have people with the skills to survive they never would have lasted as long as they had. While Valentine had access to the records detailing the crimes of each prisoner, all the former inmates knew of one another was that they were all criminals. No one really asked why anyone had been put away, and tended to treat one another as they would were they all free people.
Valentine therefore decided to take the young woman to the man who knew more about the dinosaurs than anyone other than Whitsmith.
“Zebadiah,” Valentine informed her while they walked, “can answer all your questions. He’s quite a character, our Zebadiah. I think you’ll get along well with him.”
Torrance did not seem to be paying that much attention, however. Valentine had attempted to take her along the route where they would happen upon as few people as possible. Unfortunately there was no corridor in the prison which was entirely empty at any given time, and they had already passed several people. One of the men they were currently passing was cl
early leering at Torrance, and since Valentine knew just why that particular fellow had been incarcerated he should hardly have been surprised.
Once they had passed him, Valentine noticed Torrance was looking over her shoulder while they walked.
“He’s a character, that one,” Valentine laughed.
“He looked a bit menacing to me,” she said, facing front once more.
“Nah, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Where’s he from?”
“Earth. We’re all from Earth.”
“Like the prison?”
Valentine forced a smile but could not bring himself to look directly at her. Once again he had panicked and shown a card he had never meant her to see hiding up his sleeve. Valentine was far from an architect, but it seemed there was some artistic flourish which Torrance had recognised. Or perhaps she had just known the prison was not Jovian, even though it was in the Jovian system.
“All right,” Valentine said, “I have something to admit to you.”
“Oh?” she asked, raising an almost disappointed eyebrow.
“We knew the prison was here when we set off. We’d been instructed there was an abandoned building here we could use for shelter against the dinosaurs. I don’t know the prison’s history, just that it was already here. I can only assume the prisoners, and guards, were shipped back home and the place abandoned for some reason. Maybe it was decided a world full of dinosaurs was a bad place for a penal colony.”
“So why not tell me that at the beginning?”
“And admit that Earth has made at least two expeditions into Jovian space, to land on forbidden ground no less? You finding us here was bad enough, but finding out Earth had dumped a prison here as well would not have gone well for the guys back home.”
“So why are you telling me now?”
“Because when I’m around you, things keep slipping out.”
She considered this, did not even make fun of his clearly ridiculous sentence, and the playful respect returned to her eyes. “Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.”