“Better than I can!”
The two lay there exhausted. Black spots swirled in Becky’s vision, swarming up from her dizziness. She was carried off in some reverie of pain, each breath growing less desperate. Shock numbed her thinking; for a moment she asked herself, “Where am I? Why am I here?” as though she had just groped her way from a particularly grim nightmare she could not recall.
“You okay, old girl?”
Reality seemed to coalesce around her annoyance. She managed, to prop herself up on a hand and wipe away the sweat dripping into her eyes.
“I told you not to call me that, Ian!”
She was confronted with a grin. “Just checking.”
“You!” She rolled over to hit him. He sprang away in time to avoid the weak blow.
“You stay here if you like,” he said after a quick kiss to the top of her sopping head. “There’s something I want to check on yonder.”
He hopped up and limped away.
“Hey! No you don’t.” She pushed herself up to a stand. “I want to see it, too!”
She followed him, struggling out her canteen. The water was tepid and bitter—but to her hurting throat it was a balm. Ian marched to the muddy side of a marsh, studded with strands of reeds, weeds, and trees.
He stopped and stared at something out of the range of Becky’s sight.
“What is it, Ian?” she said, offering him the canteen. Ian ignored the gesture, staring down into a leaf-shaded bower. Becky screwed the top back on and followed Ian’s gaze.
“I thought as much!” Ian said, reaching down and picking up what appeared to be two segments of eggshell. “But I must say, I didn’t quite expect this!” Becky followed his gaze into the barrow, her eyes not yet accustomed to the gloom.
“A nest of dinosaur eggs, Ian?”
“Yes, but look at it, Becky!” Ian slid down the incline. Snug in the ground was a large mound of what appeared to be cement. Cement with a hole in it. Half an empty eggshell lay by the entrance. “This is a structure made by some sort of intelligent life! To house eggs, yet!” he peered carefully into the dim opening. “A few fragments. No whole eggs or younglings. The hatching seems recent enough, though. Fascinating. One would presume that this is the work of the same civilization behind those walls . . .”
“And if the shells are fresh, then so is the civilization!”
“Thank you, Ms. Holmes,” Ian said, examining the igloo-shaped mound. From its right side jutted a chimney-like device which reached up past the surrounding vegetation. “And my word, unless I miss my guess, this is some sort of temperature-control device, using mirrors! Wish I could knock this apart and see how they solved the problem of thermal-coupling and—”
“Always the engineer, Ian. We haven’t got time. We have to meet the people who made this!”
“Quite right. Let’s be on our way then. Let’s have a hand there, old—” He smiled. “Sorry. My lovely Rebecca. And could I have a sip from your canteen? I’m parched!”
Becky sighed and got the canteen back out.
* * *
“Look at that little guy go!” Ian said with admiration. “I wonder if he’ll make it.”
Becky had nothing of her companion’s calm concerning the matter. “Ian, don’t just stand there! Shoot the goddamn thing before it catches him.”
They had stepped into a clearing and witnessed a scene quite a few yards distant—so that they could not make out details. Some sort of carnivore was chasing something half its size through the underbrush, snapping and snorting. A miniature, stripped-down version of a Carnosaur, its aspect was fearsome, its speed considerable. The creature it pursued was mostly obscured by weeds.
“What? Waste ammunition on something quite natural? If the prey is to escape, Becky, let it do so on—hey!”
She pulled the gun from his holster, took a few steps away, and fired.
“Stop, Becky!” But Ian Coopersmith wisely did not step forward and attempt to stop her from firing. Why she was doing this, even Becky wasn’t entirely sure. The creature being pursued looked vaguely humanoid—or so she imagined—and her move was almost instinctive.
Mother instinct? A flicker of species preservation? It did not occur to her to analyze her actions.
She pushed off the safety, tracked the Carnosaur, fired. The first round missed entirely.
“Becky, that’s not a long-range weapon. You’re as likely to hit the pursued as—”
“Shut up, Ian.” She fired again. The Carnosaur was suddenly relieved of its forelimbs and half its chest. It tumbled to a dead halt in a spume of blood and dust. The smaller creature did not stop to discover the fate of its pursuer. It didn’t even turn around to look, but rather made a beeline for dense forest. In a trice, it was swallowed into mystery.
“I say! Lucky shot,” Ian said sternly, arms folded. “Still you wasted two of our bullets we might be in sore need of at some later time.”
Becky grew red in the face. “Has it occurred to you, Ian, that that little creature might have been one of the intelligent hatchlings? I might have saved a thinking creature.”
Ian’s expression changed. “Now there’s a thought. What do you think then, Becky? That could be the reason why they would lay their eggs out here. Let the newborn fend for themselves. Survival of the fittest. They have to find their way to civilization. Interesting use of the outside wilderness.”
“Well, it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction gunning down that Carnosaur on its tail,” she said, handing the pistol back. “Sorry I was such a bitch about it, but it was something I had to do.”
“Try to restrain yourself next time, though, hey? All the same, perhaps when we get back we can tour the world as Jurassic Annie Oakley and Wild Bill Hickock.”
“Let’s worry about getting back first.”
“Yes, well, the answer lies beyond that wall, so we must push on and—wait a moment. Look yonder! Picnictime for a cannibal, I think! A brother for breakfast!”
Becky turned. Another Carnosaur was slinking in, no doubt attracted by the scent of blood in the air. This one was smaller, perhaps two meters high. It lowered its head and commenced to feast, audibly.
”Fellow wasn’t taught proper table manners!” Ian said. “Chewing with an open mouth! Really!”
A movement at the other end of the clearing attracted Becky’s attention. A bipedal creature strode out, holding a spear.
A spear?
“Ian! Ian, look over there!”
“What do you know!” Ian said after a soft whistle.
“Ian, what’s he doing? He can’t possibly kill that thing with only a spear.”
Ian stepped away defensively, hand firm on the butt of his gun. “Steady on! Let’s just watch this time. Maybe it’s some kind of rite of passage for young intelligent dinosaurs.”
“What? Getting eaten?”
“Calm down and watch. This could be very instructive.”
“You must think I’m trigger-happy, Ian!”
“I’m just glad that now I’m in charge of our weapon, that’s all. We can’t—” His attention was suddenly diverted. “I say! What the devil is that bugger doing? It’s crazy.”
The lizard-man had stepped up lightly to the carnivore, Becky could see, and begun bashing it over the head with the blunt end of his spear. At first the Carnosaur almost ignored the rappings, merely letting go with a warning roar, then returning to its more rewarding feast below. But the fellow repeated his rappings, harder, until the Carnosaur was thoroughly maddened. It hopped up to stand on its hindlegs, took a snap at the lizard-man, then advanced toward him, now determined, no doubt, to rid itself of this nuisance and wolf down an extra tidbit in the bargain.
“Why’s it doing that, Ian?” Becky demanded.
“God knows!”
Then the lizard-man did the strangest thing. He
spun the spear around in an apparently ceremonial manner, then flung it. But not at the Carnosaur, Becky saw in astonishment. He hurled it to the side, deep into the forest, where it could not be retrieved.
“Ian! Ian, the gun!” she said, “The poor thing will get torn apart.”
“Maybe it’s some sort of ritual suicide, Becky. We want to befriend these creatures, so we don’t want to interfere with any of their ceremonies.”
Then, with a snarl, the Carnosaur attacked, going from a standstill to a sprint in an instant.
The lizard-man stood his ground defiantly, watching the creature charge.
”Oh, Ian, I can’t watch,” Becky said. But somehow she could not unglue her eyes from the sight.
At the last possible moment, the lizard-man stepped aside, somehow avoiding the outstretched claws, the snapping fangs of the Carnosaur. The lithe carnivore pivoted about. In that moment, the lizard-man made his move, pouncing with incredible speed and agility upon his adversary’s back.
The Carnosaur shrieked with fury. It lashed about, trying to bend its head around to bite at its rider. The lizard-man dung with amazing tenaciousness.
Maddened with frustration, the Carnosaur rolled to the ground, turning the struggle into some sort of primeval wrestling match.
Somehow the lizard-man stayed on board.
Becky could see now, though, even through the dust kicking up, that the lizard-man was doing something with his own claws. Digging into the back of the creature’s neck! Bright blood seeped down from the newly opened wound.
The wrestling went on for a full two minutes, partly on the ground, partly in an upright position, the Carnosaur dashing back and forth Iike a bucking bronco, attempting to unseat its rider.
“Ian! He’s shoved his entire hand into the skin,” Becky said, clutching Ian’s muscular forearm. Why should—”
Suddenly, the Carnosaur halted its run. The rider twisted his hand in a certain manner, and, in fits and starts at first, then in more of a flow, the mount began to trot away; quite tame and docile.
“What did he do, Ian?”
“I have no idea.”
“You think we just witnessed some sort of coralling of a wild animal?”
“I don’t know. Seemed much too dangerous for that. You’d think that the lizard-man would have some kind of back-up. Or even, if they’re civilized, simply lasso the creature. No, I think my first guess was right. Some sort of coming-of-age ceremony. A rite of passage. But come on. I presume that now that the creature has been tamed, the lizard-man is taking it to the nearest entrance to the wall. We should follow.”
They discovered the pathway through the foliage that the lizard-man and his new mount had taken followed the footprints through the undergrowth, pushing past fronds and ferns, careful to avoid any large creatures. Plenty of the smaller varieties winged through the air or scrabbled beside the boles of trees. The humid air was full of their rank smell, combined with the odor of rotting vegetation.
When they finally found their way into another clearing, they were confronted with the spectacle of the wall, less than fifty meters away.
They stopped and stared.
At least ten meters high, Becky estimated, and constructed of wooden planks, stone and mortar. Creeper vines covered parts of it. Other stretches were bare. At regular intervals were cupolas—tower-like protrusions—extensions of buttressing sections apparently thicker than the rest of the wall.
“There’s the door, way down there,” Becky said, pointing. A sense of relief flooded through her, almost immediately accompanied by a tingling fear of the mystery hidden by that wall. But it was their only hope for safety from the dangers of the wild behind them.
A movement flashed in one of the roofed towers.
“There’s something up there!” Ian said. He grabbed Becky by her hand, keeping his Magnum up in his other.
Together they walked to the base of the wall, then strode parallel to it, toward where the tower thrust upwards.
Looking upward in wonder, Ian stumbled on a loose stone. It rattled off into a group of bushes.
Suddenly, something leaned over the tower’s side. Its movements were darting with a certain lizard-like gracefulness. Its snout was blunt, with sensitive quivering nostrils that seemed to be taking in their scent. Its head bobbed slowly back and forth as it assessed the intruders . . . a large head, atop a thin tough powerful neck. The creature was standing upright.
And the eyes . . .
Much closer to this one than she’d been to the last, Becky could see that the eyes were obviously capable of stereoscopic vision. As they stared down at her, a thrill sped down Becky’s spine to see how they shone with intelligence.
Then the creature lifted some kind of weapon in its multifingered, obviously articulated hands and pointed it straight down.
The weapon stared at them with tiny beady eyes and began to chitter and squawk.
“STAY VERY STILL,” Ian Coopersmith said.
“Ian, what do we do now?” Rebecca asked tersely.
“Something, quickly. That’s some kind of weapon he’s got there. Looks as though he’s ready to use it, too.”
They stood in tense silence. Insects droned in the nearby forest. In the near distance, just above what would be the end of this world, water vapor roiled like fog aspiring to become clouds.
The creature at the top of the tower leaned farther over, examining the strange intruders with eyes quite large in proportion to his head. The shape of his skull seemed to indicate a large brain.
Rebecca said; “Take off your clothes, Ian. Right now!” She immediately began to unzip her jumpsuit.
“What? Hey, stop. I’m trying to think of a way to communicate with the thing before—”
“Shut up, you jerk,” Rebecca demanded, pushing down the pants, peeling them quickly off. She kicked the clothes away, stood, and stared up to see what the response was.
The creature pulled the weapon slightly back, no longer aiming it. His mouth seemed to drop. A long tongue issued forth, as though tasting their scent. It hissed. His eyes seemed to grow bigger.
“So strip,” Becky said, “and let him see the male of the species.”
Ian Coopersmith quickly removed his clothes. “We should show we’ve no weapons,” he said, holding up his hands, then slowly turning around. Becky followed his example, turning a complete circle.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Hey,” Ian said, “this is your strategy. You tell me.”
“We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
“Point taken. Quite a good course of action, actually. I should have thought of it myself.”
“Congratulate me later, okay? I’m still scared witless.”
“We’ve found our intelligent life, anyway,” Ian said. “Let’s just hope they’re not much like humans who shoot first and ask questions later.”
The lizard abruptly, pulled back from the tower’s edge and, disappeared. “You’ve offended it!” Becky said, joking. “Maybe you shouldn’t have taken your clothes off, after all, Ian,”
“Thank goodness Blacks can’t blush.” Ian sighed. “I guess we should just stand and wait.” He collected his jumpsuit, rolled his gun and holster inside it, then tucked it under his arm. “This is the last stop, Becky. We’re playing all our chips on this number. Okay?”
“I’m too tired to say anything but ‘yes.’”
They didn’t have to wait long. Within five minutes, the gate, about one hundred meters to their right, opened. A party of the upright reptiles—some ten in number—issued forth. They strode with a sleek grace, torsos leaning forward, balanced by their tails. As they neared, Becky noted that they carried weapons—spears and wooden swords. Evidently their culture did not use metal. That made sense. There would be no reason for ore deposits in this artificial geology. And the alloy past the
soil and on the sides would of course be too hard to chip away.
Becky’s only relief was that none of them carried one of those living weapons. That gave her the creeps.
“Becky, this may sound stupid, but—”
“What, Ian?”
“Would you hold my hand?”
She slipped her palm against Ian’s, and they laced fingers. “You know, Ian, no matter what happens, no matter if we get saved and go our separate ways or what, I want you to know that I love you. First person always.”
Ian sighed deeply and glanced up at the approaching Iizards. “I hope all this world loves people in love.”
When the intelligent lizards reached the naked couple, they formed a wary circle around them, brandishing weapons. They buzzed with conversation. Their language appeared to be a combination of hisses, clicks, and gutteral groans.
Ian raised his hand and forced a smile. “Good afternoon. I want to assure you that we’re quite harmless. We need help.”
“Ian, they can’t understand you.”
“True, but they might understand the tone of voice.”
“My God, I feel like an animated version of that picture on the pioneer trip.”
“All we need now is a little Chuck Berry music,” Ian quipped uneasily.
“You know, Ian, they’ve all got those little shirts around their torsos. That’s what I noticed about the one in the tower.”
“Women. Always fashion-conscious.”
“No, really. I wonder what it could mean. Clearly they don’t wear it for warmth or protection or modesty.”
“Caste symbol?”
“Could be. Could be it’s just decoration, although it is a rather plain piece of material. Some kind of faded green plant fiber, apparently. The things can’t last long. Look. That one there. He’s pointing at us. Isn’t he the one from the tower?”
“How can you tell?”
“He’s cuter than the rest.”
The reptile was jabbering excitedly, looking from companion to companion as though trying to convince them of something. He seemed not to get the positive response desired.
Day of the Dragonstar Page 20