Predator iarit-1

by William F. Wu

  “Now!” Hunter shouted, flinging the free end of his rope around a tree. He wound it around the big tree trunk once, just before the fleeing dinosaur pulled the rope taut. Then Hunter hung on to the rope, using the tree trunk as a brace.

  “I’m coming!” Chad ran crashing through the underbrush, swinging his lasso.

  “This way,” Hunter called. “Hold this rope and give me your lasso.”

  “I’ll do it!” Chad dodged around a couple of trees and moved toward the struthiomimus, which was trampling the bushes and crashing against the trees in an effort to pull away.

  “Stop!” Hunter screamed frantically. “It’s too dangerous!”

  “It’s okay! He’s already roped.” Chad slowed down, approaching the raging dinosaur.

  Hunter couldn’t allow Chad to go any closer. Impelled by the First Law, Hunter quickly tied his rope into a knot and ran after Chad. “Chad, you must stop!”

  The struthiomimus was straining its narrow neck against the rope, too panicked to pay any attention to Chad. Its heavy body was snapping young trees in half and its feet were flattening the underbrush. Chad, showing more courage than common sense, stood his ground and reared back to throw his lasso.

  Hunter saw that Chad was close enough to be trampled if the terrified dinosaur suddenly shifted in his direction. To move him as fast as possible, Hunter flung himself forward in a flying tackle carefully gauged to bring Chad down without hurting him by the impact. He grabbed Chad around the waist, then turned so that as they hit the ground, Hunter’s body cushioned Chad’s.

  “Stay there,” Hunter ordered, leaping up and snatching away the rope. “If you do not keep yourself safe, I will have to cut it free so it cannot hurt you.”

  Chad just nodded.

  Hunter moved up on the dinosaur quickly. This time, with its movements confined, lassoing it was even easier. Hunter tied the second rope securely to another tree and returned to the first rope to tie it more securely. The struthiomimus pulled against the ropes, but Hunter could see that they would hold.

  “Now what do we do?” Chad had stood up now, but dutifully remained where Hunter had told him to stay.

  “When he calms down, we have to move him to the corral,” said Hunter. “How long do you think that will take?”

  “What do I think?” Chad shook his head. “Nothing in the fossil record can predict his emotional state. All we can do is wait and see what he does.”

  “All right.” Hunter looked through the trees in the direction of the camp. “We are not strong enough to pull him by hand in any direction he does not want to go.”

  “Then how do we make him come with us?”

  “When he is calm, I will untie one rope at a time. While he is braced by the other rope, we will pull him or coax him with food to follow us. Then we will retie the lead rope to a tree trunk and do the same with the other one. The tree trunks are close enough for us to move him that way.”

  “That could take a long time.”

  Hunter looked up at the sun. “We have several hours of daylight.”

  Steve and Jane returned to camp first. When the setting sun turned red, Steve began preparing dinner. Even when it was ready, Hunter and Chad still had not returned.

  “Maybe Hunter should have given us a receiver,” said Jane. “So we could keep tabs on him, too.”

  Steve glanced over at her. She smiled impishly. He wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. Ever since they had bickered a little out on the trail, he had been uncomfortable with her, but she seemed to have forgotten about it.

  “Steve! Jane!” Hunter’s voice came out of the darkening forest, not far away.

  “Yeah!” Steve shouted back.

  “Open the corral!”

  Steve and Jane glanced at each other, then hurried toward the gate. They opened it. Then, out of the shadows, Hunter came into sight, pulling a taut rope.

  “Ready, Chad?” Hunter called. “Untie your rope and hold it this time. We have to bring him into the corral.” He turned to Steve. “Help Chad on his rope.”

  Steve and Jane jogged forward. They could hear something large breaking branches as it struggled. It was still invisible in the darkness.

  “Steve? Over here,” said Chad.

  Steve looked around and saw him only a few steps away. As Chad loosened his rope from a tree, Steve grabbed it. So did Jane. Then, for the first time, Steve saw the long neck and narrow head of the dinosaur, rising up high overhead.

  “Just pull him,” said Chad. “He’s more docile now. He fought hard at first, but he’s getting tired, I think.”

  “Okay.”

  Hunter pulled the hardest. Little by little, the dinosaur stepped forward, forced to move by the tautness of the two ropes around its neck. In a few moments Hunter and the three humans had all backed into the corral. The dinosaur, looking around in jerky, sudden movements, at last stepped inside the corral gate.

  Hunter quickly lashed his rope to one of the trees inside the corral. Then, circling safely around the dinosaur, he took the rope from Chad. “Climb over the rails,” he said. “Stay away from the struthiomimus.”

  Steve dropped the rope and moved toward the fence. He clambered over the rails first and turned. Jane leaned down to brace herself on the arm he offered. Chad climbed over slowly at another part of the fence.

  In the corral Hunter held the rope firmly as he backed to the fence. Then he let go of it and carefully watched the dinosaur. The struthiomimus, feeling the release of tension, suddenly pranced sideways. At the same time, Hunter dodged behind it and moved to the other rope. He untied it and then ran to the nearest part of the fence, where he jumped over.

  The dinosaur began to run around the corral, among the trees.

  “Get away!” Hunter yelled at the humans, seeing where they were. “Away from the fence. He might break out.”

  Steve backed off, but Hunter was frantically running toward them.

  “Now! Move!” Hunter spread his arms wide, slowing down abruptly. He herded the three humans away from the fence, back toward the camp. “Stay behind me.”

  As they watched, the struthiomimus ran among the trees, shaking its head. For a moment it slipped out of sight in the dark, but reappeared, walking more slowly. So far it was still in the corral.

  “It’s really pretty calm for a wild animal in captivity,” said Steve.

  “It fought hard at first,” said Hunter. “It quickly tired itself out pulling against the trees we used as braces. It may still break out sometime tonight.”

  “What do we do now?” Jane asked.

  “Dinner’s ready,” said Steve. “Let’s give our captive time to adjust.”

  “Yes,” said Hunter. “I will listen carefully to the dinosaur’s footsteps. If it becomes agitated, I will have to tend to it.”

  “I’m hungry enough,” said Chad.

  They sat down to eat facing the corral. By that time the forest was almost completely dark, but Steve moved one of the portable lights to the edge of the fence and angled it inside. They could see the dinosaur pacing anxiously among the trees, in and out of the light.

  “Looks good so far,” said Steve, as he collected the empty dishes. He began cleaning the fish that Hunter had brought back, intending to use them in a future meal.

  “He’s eating leaves,” said Jane. “Look.”

  “That’s a good sign,” said Chad. “He’s not as upset as he was. Maybe he won’t break out.”

  “You three go to bed,” said Hunter. “I will have to watch him all night. I cannot take the risk that he might break out and trample the tent.”

  “What if he does escape?” Steve asked. “What can you actually do about it?”

  “I will retrieve the ropes now. If I anticipate that he will break out, I can tie him to a tree again.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” said Jane.

  13

  In the early light, Steve again woke up first. He hurried out right away to take a look at the dinosaur. “Hey, Hun
ter! Is it still here?”

  “Good morning, Steve,” Hunter called from the corral. “Over this way.”

  Steve ran to the gate, then stopped in surprise. Hunter, riding on the back of the struthiomimus with a saddle and bridle, guided his mount from the trees into full view. He rode up to the gate as Steve stared.

  “You can ride it already?” Steve gazed at the calm struthiomimus. “It really looks like an ostrich, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does,” said Chad, coming up behind Steve. “It’s no accident, either. Walking birds in our own time, such as ostriches and emus, are among the closest living relatives of dinosaurs.”

  “Really? Are they descendants of dinosaurs like this one?” Steve asked.

  “The answer to that is still being debated,” said Chad. “Some experts say they are. Others feel that birds are descended from an ancestor common to the dinosaurs. That would make them descendants of, you might say, dinosaurs’ cousins.”

  Steve nodded, impressed with Chad’s knowledge. That was the most civil conversation he and Chad had yet exchanged. He didn’t want to ruin it, so he said nothing else.

  Hunter had used a small bit to go into the mouth of his mount and had tied a small bridle together out of rope. The struthiomimus’s head was higher than Hunter’s, and Hunter had to guide him with long reins. He sat on the small makeshift saddle, which was tightly cinched around the creature’s body.

  “How did you tame him so soon?” Chad asked.

  “After he calmed down, he became very responsive to me,” said Hunter. “I fed him with certain leaves and he let me get close. Since Steve needed his sleep, I spent a couple of hours making the saddle and bridle.”

  “Wait a minute. You mean he just let you ride him?” Steve asked doubtfully.

  “No, not exactly. He did not like the saddle or bridle much at all. I had to tie him up again to put them on and he fought them for another couple of hours after I untied him.”

  “He got used to them pretty fast,” said Chad. “Maybe he’s smarter than the experts thought.”

  “I judge him to be somewhat less intelligent than a horse,” said Hunter.

  “How long have you been riding him?” Steve asked.

  “About three hours,” said Hunter. “The first time, I had to sneak up on him and jump on. The Third Law allowed this, because falling from this height is not too serious. I can control my falls.”

  “And now he’s trained enough to ride,” said Chad. “That’s pretty good work.”

  “At least for the moment,” said Hunter. “He may resist again if I get off.”

  “He’s day-broke,” said Steve.

  “What?” Hunter asked.

  “A horse that has to be broken to ride every day is called ‘day-broke.’ “

  “I see. Yes, I think that is what he is,” said Hunter. “However, to keep him under control, I should stay mounted on him through the day unless a more pressing concern develops.”

  “Okay,” said Steve. “I’ll get breakfast going right away. But then what do we do?”

  “I want you to make another saddle for Chad,” said Hunter. “One we can strap on behind mine up here. He will ride double with me. Also another bridle that he will use tomorrow if all goes well. Now that we have one mount to ride, we should be able to run down another struthiomimus fairly easily.”

  “Hey, that’s right,” said Chad. “No more sitting around waiting. And we won’t have to drag it on foot with ropes either.”

  “What about Steve and me?” Jane asked, joining them at the corral.

  “In the excitement last night, I never asked you for a debriefing,” said Hunter. “What did you find?”

  “MC 1‘s trail is all over the place,” said Jane. “He’s roaming, not just running. Steve did a great job of tracking him.”

  “Can you infer his motives?”

  “Well, maybe. I’ve been thinking about it. Since he’s not trying to put simple distance between himself and us, two general possibilities present themselves. One is that he has malfunctioned in some way. A physical malfunction may have impaired his ability to judge what he is doing and where he is going.”

  “He has no trouble running,” said Steve. “He can move fast. We even glimpsed him once, watching us.”

  “That brings me to the second possibility,” said Jane. “He may have some reason for staying close and watching us, even though that means greater risk for him.”

  “I would like you to continue tracking him today,” said Hunter. “I hope that tomorrow we will have two mounts on which to follow him, so tomorrow morning we will want to pick up his trail in the most recent spot you can give us.”

  When breakfast was finished, Steve provisioned a day pack for Chad, cooking some of the fish and making sandwiches. Then he prepared the new saddle and bridle. Soon everyone was ready.

  Steve handed Chad his pack and carried the saddle inside the corral. While Hunter held his mount steady, Steve, tingling with excitement, swung the new saddle up onto the back of the struthiomimus. He was ready to jump aside and run for the corral fence at the first sudden movement.

  Hunter held the dinosaur firmly in place. Without incident, Steve cinched the saddle tight and waved to Chad, who was waiting at the gate. Then Chad, carrying the bridle, reluctantly came forward. Steve gave him a leg up into the saddle.

  “Wow,” Chad said quietly, settling into the saddle. “I’m actually riding a dinosaur.”

  “Put your arms around me and hang on,” said Hunter. “Its gait is reliable, since it walks on only two legs. But it moves its head up and down on that long neck to eat and to look around. The body angle shifts a little at the same time.”

  “Right,” said Chad, looking up at the struthiomimus’s head with a new interest.

  Steve ran to open the gate. Steve and Jane watched as the others rode out of the corral. Then, with a hesitant but controlled walk, Hunter and Chad’s mount carried them into the forest.

  “So far, so good,” said Steve.

  “They’ll be fine,” said Jane. “You know Hunter can’t let either one of them get hurt if he can help it.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Steve. “I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

  Steve prepared their day pack and they started out again on foot. He followed his landmarks back to their terminal point of the day before. They picked up the trail again, still wandering through the dense forest on a curving, crisscrossing route.

  After only an hour or so, Steve stopped for a moment. “This is silly. He’s not going anywhere. Neither are we. We were in this spot twice yesterday and now today.”

  Jane looked down at the tracks, which were thick here. “Is he slowing down? Are those walking tracks instead of running tracks?”

  “Yeah.” Steve grinned at her. “You’re learning.”

  “What I said yesterday goes double today. He really isn’t trying to escape at all.”

  “No, I’d have to agree with you.” Steve studied the footprints around them. “If he wanted to lose us, he could be wading up or down that stream. Then he wouldn’t leave any trail at all. Or he might find some rocky ground somewhere.”

  “Yesterday, I thought he was just circling back to watch us. But he’s not just doing that, either, or he would leave even less of a trail, don’t you think?”

  “That would make sense,” said Steve. “But I’m just here to track our quarry through the forest. You’re the expert on how robots think.”

  “I guess we’ll just have to keep following him,” said Jane. “But I wish I knew why he was hanging around like this.”

  “This way,” said Steve.

  Hunter rode for the first hour or so, giving most of his attention to his mount. The First Law had him deeply concerned about letting Chad ride with him. Finally, however, Hunter concluded that the dinosaur was truly under enough control for them to ride safely.

  “I’d like to name it ‘Strut,’ “ said Chad happily, over his shoulder. “ A mount should have a
name. Besides, ‘struthiomimus’ is just too long a word to say all the time.”

  “Strut,” said Hunter. “Very well.”

  “I thought that was kind of funny. Don’t you think that’s a good name?”

  “Short, distinctive, and a mnemonic for the species,” said Hunter. “Yes, it is an appropriate name.”

  “And it walks upright.”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t have much sense of humor, do you?”

  Hunter quickly searched his data on the subject. He recalled that humor was important to humans. However, with the urgency of finding MC Governor or his components, Hunter had never taken the time to consider the subject.

  “I apologize,” said Hunter.

  “No need.” Chad laughed. “Never mind.”

  Puzzled, Hunter simply nodded.

  Throughout midday, Hunter guided their mount quietly through the forest, looking for another struthiomimus. They could not find one. Hunter stopped at several places along the stream, where they waited again for dinosaurs to come to drink. Whenever a new species appeared, Chad quickly looked up its name and traits, but they did not see a specimen they could ride. So Hunter moved on.

  Behind him, Chad ate his lunch as they rode. When he had finished, Hunter passed him the reins so that he could learn to ride Strut on his own. Hunter remained in the forward saddle, but that seemed to make no difference. Chad guided their mount without a problem.

  “I’ve been looking in my belt computer for more species that might be good prospects,” said Chad. “Maybe the struthiomimus just isn’t common in this neighborhood right now.”

  “What data were you checking?”

  “Only a few traits.” Chad relaxed the reins so that their mount could crane its long neck forward to browse on some leaves. “Cranial capacity, for learning ability. Size and strength of leg bones, to make sure they can carry us. The structure of the pelvis and spine of bipedal dinosaurs, to judge whether or not they are likely to bend far forward and then straighten up suddenly again, throwing us.”

  “What have you found?”