by Al Macy
We’d been lucky. If we’d come across two or more dinos, we’d be dead. But worrying wasn’t something I wasted time on in this primitive world.
We made good progress over the next week. We had one miserable day of drenching rain, but all the others provided good hiking weather. One night, I watched two rocket launches, noticeably closer than from our cave home.
The next afternoon we took a break on an overlook far above the ocean. Below us, fish as big as whales passed in a dense school. No spouts broke the surface. A huge creature—a pterodactyl?—soared high above us, moving up the coast. I recalled from my dinosaur weekend with Sophia that some flying dinosaurs had a wingspan of over thirty feet. Quetz-something.
Boonie was having the time of his life, of course. Hunting every day with plentiful game, traveling with the leader of the pack, eating a variety of meats. Better than spending much of each day in a house, eating dry dog food.
He was not only happy, but healthy. His coat was thick and shiny. Any wounds he had healed quickly—his cut-up ear was already looking better.
Midmorning of the ninth day, we were making good time. At the edge of a broad meadow, Boonie trotted beside me with his happy-dog smile. But then he yelped. I looked down. An arrow’s shaft protruded from his neck. No! And then two. He took a few more steps and looked up at me, confused.
Yet another arrow slammed into my leg. I looked down. It had passed neatly through the meatiest part of my calf. The tip protruded a few inches.
My heart fisted. Six dinos appeared from the trees around us, each with a drawn longbow and an arrow pointing at my chest. Resistance was futile. Ignoring my physical pain, I knelt down and held Boonie’s head against my cheek. Blood spurted from the exit wound, his life ebbing away.
What a wonderful dog he’d been. I pictured him sticking close to Sophia as she recovered from her trauma. Roughhousing with Charli in front of the wood stove. Once, when Sophia had wandered off into the woods, he stayed at her side until we’d found them. And of course, Boonie was my pack mate, saving my life on several occasions.
I told him what a good dog he was, ruffling the fur below his ears the way he liked it. He leaned against me, licked my arm, and gave a few weak tail wags. Then he was gone.
Without lifting my head, I said, “Go ahead, shoot me. What are you waiting for?”
They vocalized with a variety of clicking and chirping noises. I couldn’t tell whether they were speaking a language or just communicating their emotions, like crows or parakeets.
They belonged to the same species as the animal I’d killed. Their tails swished and their eyes blinked, but the bows were steady.
A darker version of the others came out from the trees and strutted over to me. This one was larger than his comrades but still short compared to me. He showed no fear or hesitation, but, of course, I had no idea what fear would look like in a huge lizard creature.
He picked up my spear and rubbed his thumb on its tip. His hand had three fingers, each with a nasty claw at the tip, plus an opposable thumb. He put his eyes inches from mine. I gritted my teeth and stared back.
A narrow pupil extended from the top to the bottom of his eye, with several pointed bulges, like the black handgrip of a ceremonial knife. The yellow iris was beautiful, with a fractal-like maze of dark lines. I swallowed. I would not show my fear. Even when a translucent eyelid flashed up from below the eye, I didn’t flinch.
Birds sung in the trees, carefree. They went about their normal lives, oblivious to my situation. My best friend had just been murdered. I had to rise above that if I were to survive. I’d grieve later, if I was still alive.
A forked tongue snaked out of the leader’s mouth repeatedly, touching my eyes, cheeks, and ears. His breath smelled of mothballs and rotting meat. He walked around me, stepping over Boonie’s body without looking down. He pulled my Leatherman tool from its sheath.
His pupil expanded like a balloon. He tapped the tool with a claw and looked at me. He stepped back and manipulated it. With the knife still extended, he eventually got the two wings apart, exposing the pliers inside. He moved them, opening and closing the jaws of the pliers. The others in the group echoed his chuffing noises. He peered in at the tools: the can opener, the screwdrivers, and the file.
Still holding the Leatherman, he held his arms out, crossed at the wrists, and nodded to one of his men. The thug strode over and bound my wrists in front of me. The leader pointed to my neck, and another underling tied a thicker rope around it. The knot was a perfect bowline; surprising what one notices in times of stress.
The group started hiking east, with me in the middle. I gestured to the arrow in my leg, but got no response. Each step sent a bolt of pain clear to my head. I kept the leg straight and only put weight on my heel. That could work, but not for long.
I looked back to Boonie’s body one last time. Two members of the tribe crouched around him. I took a deep breath, pushing away thoughts of what they would do. Time to look to the future, dismal as it was.
My shoulders drooping, I watched the trail in front of my feet, and a few tears slid down my cheeks. Would I ever get over the loss of Boonie? He’d been my best friend, with me twenty-four hours of every day. First Marie, then Boonie.
Okay, Corby, man up. These are the cards you’ve been dealt. When we get to wherever we’re going, no more wallowing in self-pity. You’ve been in worse situations, right? Maybe not.
After only a few minutes my calf muscle spasmed. I stopped, and one of the dinos prodded me with his spear. That did it.
I whipped around and yelled, “Go to hell!”
All of the creatures collapsed to the ground. What?
I blinked and looked from one to the other. None of them moved. Out cold. Did I have unrealized magic powers in this universe? Were they like those goats that froze and fell over when surprised?
My calf muscle spasmed again. Ow! Should I pull out the arrow? I squatted down to examine my wound. Not good.
That’s when a strange humming filtered down from the sky.
CHAPTER SIX
I tilted my head toward the humming. Whoa! A majestic airship descended slowly toward the meadow. It looked like a huge flying saucer but was triangular rather than round. The gentle hum pulsated in time with an aurora-like pattern that played out on all surfaces.
Like the aircraft that had flashed by the cave, it was the turquoise blue of a Beverly Hills swimming pool. Each of the three sides was perhaps one hundred yards wide.
It descended until the lowest part was just above the ground, the grass swirling below it. Rather than being flat on the underside, it extended symmetrically above and below the plane of the triangle, and stood as tall as a 747.
A vague chlorine scent filled the forest. Too bad I couldn’t have shared this with Marie. I smiled. This sure as hell would have surprised her.
Friend or foe? I looked at the bodies of the dinos that had killed Boonie. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Plus, a society this advanced had to be benevolent. Right?
Something bumped me from behind. I whipped my head around so fast I almost fell over. Nothing. The push came again. I put my hands behind me and met a warm, rubbery resistance. A force field? Okay, no problem. Go toward the ship. Will do.
I raised my bound arms above my head. Who knew what that meant to them, but it certainly showed I had no weapons. The rope around my wrists grew warm. I pulled my hands apart and the rope broke, falling to the ground.
Hobbling through the grass, I looked down at the arrow. It stuck out from my calf like an arrow-through-the-head gag toy.
Just when I was near enough to wonder how I’d get in, the ship tilted until the closest edge met the ground. The chlorine-like ozone smell was stronger here. Not unpleasant.
Within a rectangular section of the hull, thousands of dark spots appeared. They grew in size until the section had dissolved completely and I was looking into a large chamber. It was mostly empty. I figured it for a cargo hold.
&n
bsp; I stepped in through the opening and stumbled up the sloping floor. The black floor yielded to my feet like rubber pads on a playground. The craft leveled itself, and the hull wall undissolved. That is, the opening disappeared.
My weight increased, sending a wave of pain from my calf. We were off.
Rubbery horizontal bars, like low hitching posts, interrupted the smooth deck here and there. I sat on the closest one, taking weight off my injured leg. A movement caught my eye. I turned and gasped.
A creature perched on a hitching post like mine, off to the side of the chamber. Levers and switches surrounded him. He was around five feet tall. Part tyrannosaur, part parrot.
His general body shape was that of a slender two-legged dinosaur. Radiant blue plumage covered most of his body, and his legs were covered with scales. His head showed a striking combination of green, yellow, and red feathers, and his black beak hooked like that of a macaw.
The facial features were set. That is, there were no changes in expression, no way he could smile, frown, or grimace like a human. His eyes were fixed and parrotlike, with round pupils surrounded by red and orange rings.
When folded against the body, the wings were unremarkable, but when he stretched out to manipulate a control, delicate hands unfolded from the forward-most bend.
I chose to think of this dinobird as a him. He seemed too sentient to be called “it.”
A round object encased his left ankle. Rippling of the leg muscles and twitching of the claws suggested something was going on there.
The tail was long and covered with feathers. Twice, he leaned to one side to manipulate a control, and the tail grabbed onto the perch.
The feathers ruffled and smoothed, as they do on normal-Earth birds. Overall, it was a beautiful animal. Okay, the hands were a little creepy, but I could get used to that. I was so glad to be rescued, I would have seen an amoeba as beautiful.
He spoke what I assumed to be an elaborate language, extending his neck and moving the upper and lower parts of his beak. Similar speech over a loudspeaker answered him.
At one point he stretched his wing, and it passed right through a floor-mounted lever. Huh. But when he put his hand on the top, it acted like physical control. So, holograms?
When he seemed to be looking directly at me, I bowed my head and said, “Hello, my name is Jake.”
He imitated my head movement and spoke clearly. “Hello, my name is Jake.”
I discounted a cosmic coincidence and assumed he was simply parroting back my speech. The reproduction was excellent. He sounded like me. Had he said that to Charli on the phone, she’d have been fooled.
I didn’t feel stable on the top of the perch, so I eased myself down to the padded floor.
That same floor dissolved, making me jump. I watched the scenery streak by, thousands of feet below us. Show-offs! I tapped the floor and put my hand on it. It was still there, but invisible.
I looked to the west, making out Point Reyes, but instead of bare grassland, dense forest covered the peninsula.
We began decelerating. San Francisco Bay slid into view but with no bridges. In fact, there was no development at all. The hills were covered with trees. I’d assumed this would be the site of their city, with its ideally protected harbor. Not so.
Farther inland, domes dotted the hills. They fit in to the environment so well, one might think they were natural structures. Residences, probably. Many were open at the top.
Unless many dinobirds lived belowground, the population density here was way below that of the corresponding area on my earth.
I saw no roads. If everyone could fly, and airships could deliver heavy materials, who needed roads?
We descended, coming down near the top of Mount Diablo in the East Bay, heading toward several huge domes connected with elevated walkways. The roof of the structure dissolved, and we dropped in. The background hum I’d barely noticed ceased.
I mumbled, “Please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought on board with you, and please use caution when opening the overhead bins.”
My host looked at me strangely, but of course, all his movements seemed strange. The hatch dissolved, and a five-foot-wide, shallow bowl levitated in and over to me.
Two other creatures stood outside the craft making incomprehensible movements with their wings and heads. To me, they were pretty much identical to the one in the aircraft, but I guessed that subtle differences in coloration or shape were obvious to them.
The nest-shaped bowl was empty—a gurney? I put my butt on the edge and rolled into it, stiffening with pain when the arrow hit the edge. All the dinobirds had crests on their heads, like cockatoos. When the arrow hit the edge of the gurney, all their crests popped up together. Perhaps that meant “Ow!” or “That’s gotta hurt.”
Rather than fear, my primary emotion was wonder, or perhaps relief. Even giddiness. I was in good hands. Probably. Even if they meant me harm, there was nothing I could do.
My nest slid down a gangplank and along a hall. I lay on my side. I put my hand on my chest and said, “Jake.” My two attendants spoke to one another, then the first touched its beak with its hand. “Mackle.” That’s an approximation. There was some sound in there that didn’t exist in English.
The second one did the same. “Jobex.”
I looked to one then the other. “Hello, Mackle. Hello, Jobex.”
They both said, “Hello, Jake,” matching my tone and inflection precisely.
The natives were friendly.
We exited the building and crossed a walkway high above the ground. No railing. Who needs a railing when you can fly? Dinobirds flew overhead and others gawked from a nearby rooftop.
In the next building, our little parade passed down one more hall and into a room filled with advanced equipment: floating spheres, screens, and consoles. Three more dinobirds stood to one side, making their parrotlike head movements. A surgical light came down from the ceiling, and a familiar hospital smell drifted over me. My bowl came to a stop near the center of the room.
As my new friends stared at me, Christmas arrived. That is, a cozy Christmas feeling spread through my body, as if I were listening to carols next to a decorated tree with snow drifting against the windows and a roaring fire in the fireplace and a warm blanket and …
* * *
Dr. Marbecka’s research vessel, Investigator, was on its final approach to Earth and would resume deceleration as soon as she concluded the news conference. The show would air live on holoviewers throughout the solar system.
Her crest popped up in fear. Twice, she fluttered toward the solitude of her quarters but stopped herself. She could do this. There’s nothing to fear. Not today, anyway.
Marbecka pulled her hand from her primary covert feathers and examined the Ballis-Prize ring on her fifth digit. A holographic image of the inner planets shimmered in the center of a deep blue gem. The reminder that she’d won the world’s top science prize at such a young age helped her get through the most difficult part of her job: public speaking.
Dr. Marbecka would conduct the broadcast floating in the ship’s main laboratory. Tiny flicks of her wings kept her stationary in front of the paratransit machine. Perfectly suited to microgravity, her wings allowed her to fly through the vessel’s passageways and change direction without touching any of the walls.
The visible components of the paratransit device included a large dish on the ceiling and a corresponding dish on the floor. The surfaces looked as if they were grasping the top and bottom of an invisible sphere. Some thick tubing stretched beyond the edges of the disks, but most of the spherical space was empty. The paratransit machine was large enough to accommodate a personal spacecraft, just in case.
Behind the paratransitter, the moon drifted by the virtual viewport. Captain Falbex had changed course so they’d be passing the moon just as the press conference began. Of course, he could have just projected a recording of the view, but that wasn’t his style.
/> The lab was impressive in its sparseness, since all experiment controls were hologram based, visible only when in use. The only discernible features in the gently curving wall were six pill-shaped escape pods.
Marbecka folded her legs into her blue breast plumage, showing only a slight bulge where the typing and pointing device encased her left ankle.
Time to start. Finally. Marbecka shook her head and smoothed her feathers. “I will give a brief statement and then take questions.” See, I can conquer my unreasonable fears.
She paused to add some drama. She didn’t like public speaking, but she was pretty good at it. “This morning, we finally located the creature we’d transported from his world, and we have retrieved him. He has a non-life-threatening injury which our veterinarians are confident they can repair. As soon as that has been taken care of, we will begin our project. I am ready for questions.”
The first reporter’s hologram materialized, as solid as if he were on the spacecraft. “Do you know what went wrong? Why did it take almost a year to find him?”
“All along we knew we’d be handicapped by having a paratransitter in only one universe. Instead of being transitted here—” she nodded to the chamber “—he apparently ended up close to his own location on the surface of the planet. That happened to be in a nature reserve.”
The reporter’s hologram winked out, and a new reporter appeared in his place. This one was smaller, with an unusual line pattern around her eyes. “You refer to the subject as ‘him.’ Do you know for a fact that it is male, or even that the species has males and females?”
The exobiologist floating next to Marbecka took that question. “Like the small sintods and pitties many of you have as pets, this creature appears to be a mammal. He has external sex organs similar to those of male pitties, so we refer to him as a male. This is based on a cursory exam, and things may change in the future.”
“Is he intelligent?”
“He appears to have a verbal language, and we found a primitive electronic device in his den. We’ll know much more soon.”