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Chapter Seven
For a short while Doctor Arkru felt a sense of well being,
which was partially caused by fatigue.
Team Three was safely on the forest’s edge capturing a harmless
club-tail. Team Two, which had
netted a long-neck—but were having trouble moving it—felt they had matters
under control. Now Team One had
completed it’s first day of collecting and was returning with a full load of
specimens, including a juvenile leaper in its hold. Physical exhaustion now settled over the students as mental
exhaustion afflicted the bridge.
For
several uneventful moments, with the transmitter turned down and the receiver
turned up on the communication console, many of the ship’s crew members crowded
onto the bridge in back of the commander, navigator, officers, professor, and
chief technician listening to the conversations from Zones One, Two, and
Three. Soon everyone would be able
to see within the temporary enclosures an assortment of Irignum’s strange
beasts. For the time being, a
feeling of relief for the success and continued well-being of the collectors
overshadowed the disappointment from the gamblers who had wagered against the
students today.
“What
more can I ask for?” the professor turned cheerily to Zorig now.
“Twelve
students returning safely to the ship,” Zorig, his chief technician, quickly
replied. “Rifkin’s team may be out of harm’s way, and you might think Rezwit
has everything under control, but I’m worried about Zither, professor. I think you should order Team Two back
to the ship!”
“I
wanted to give Zither a chance,” Arkru uttered reflectively, his finger easing
over to the transmitter dial, “but Vimml is pushing him too much. It was a mistake putting him with
Zither. Zither is too
conscientious to risk the welfare of his team, and yet Vimml has made him think
he will lose face if he gives up now.”
“Face?”
retorted Zorig curtly. “Who cares about losing face? This isn’t a game, professor—you said so yourself! They can go out tomorrow and find
another long-neck. Zither and his
team are too close to the water.
Please sir, follow your own rules here and call them back!”
“Just
how much time were you planning on giving Team Two?” Falon cut in bluntly as
the professor hesitated over the transmitter switch. “We have no idea how
Irignum’s water creatures will behave or whether or not predators will be
attracted to the scene. I agree
with Zorig: call them back now!”
The
commander’s entire staff and members of the crew allowed on the bridge echoed
Falon’s opinion. The technicians
Tobit, Ibris, and Urlum chanted under their breaths, “Now-now-now!”
“Very
well…. Team Two, listen up!” the professor called as gently as possible. “I
want you students to gather up your equipment and head back to the ship. The commander and I think this is too
dangerous so close to the river.”
A
few crewmembers, who would lose wagers, groaned but were drowned out when the
remainder of the audience cheered.
“No,
no,” Vimml shouted excitedly, “we’re not that close to the river! We can do it. We really can.
We’ve got three containers fastened together. All we have to do is slide the beast until he’s close enough
to the winch.”
“Shut
up Vimml, “ the professor cut him off angrily. “I’m not interested in what you think! I want to hear what your team leader has to say! Zither, speak up boy; be honest with
me. You can’t capture that long-neck
in a timely manner, can you? It’s
already noon. I want you students
to pull the net off that poor beast and come back to the ship!”
After
a long pause in which Zither anguished over losing his prize and Vimml could be
heard in the background berating him for his indecision, a familiar voice broke
into the lull.
“Team
One requests permission to board ship,” Rifkin piped anxiously. “Please lower
the ramp.”
“Permission
granted,” Falon complied militarily.
Motioning
for Remgen to get the decontamination chamber ready, he stood up and paced
nervously back and forth on the bridge.
“Doctor
Arkru,” Rifkin said in a breathless, expectant voice over the radio, “… I can
save that long-neck. They’ve
drugged it so much it’s doomed if they leave it now. Let me take Crawler One to the scene after emptying out its
hold. We can join the two vehicles
like we’ve done on other planets.
That would give us enough power and space.”
“We’ve
done that before to carry extra personnel, Rifkin, not specimens,” Arkru
replied dismissively, shaking his head. “Your team’s done enough today. Let’s give them some rest!”
“My
team doesn’t need to go with me sir,” Rifkin sounded desperate. “Please
professor, Zither deserves my help.
How many chances will we get for a long-neck?”
“Yes,
yes,” cried Vimml, “it’ll be just like old times Rifkin. We can do it. It’ll be worth it to save our beast!”
“I
said shut up Vimml!” screamed the
professor, slamming down his fist. “Come back to the ship at once Zither. Rifkin, you report to the bridge after
you’ve unsuited. I want no more
heroics today!”
After
another pause in which there was muffled argument between Zither and Vimml,
Team Leader Two finally spoke: “…. Listen, professor, it may be possible to
capture the long-neck if we can use Rifkin’s crawler. I hate to leave this unconscious long-neck for those
spike-toes. It’s our fault he’s in
the condition he’s in.”
“Zither,
am I hearing you correctly?” Arkru asked in disbelief. “Is this your own
personal opinion or is this Vimml talking again?”
“It’s
my opinion,” Zither replied hesitantly. “…. We—I mean I—want to save this specimen.
I really do!”
The
professor and Zorig exchanged dubious looks. As Arkru turned up the volume on the receiver, a familiar
voice was heard murmuring encouragement in the background.
“Vimml,”
Arkru bellowed at top of his lungs, “stop coaching Zither! If I hear one more peep out of you,
you’ll be permanently restricted to the ship!”
Back
in Zone Two, Vimml stormed into the clearing as if he might just walk back to
the ship. In his headset he could
hear laughter from the officers on the bridge. “This isn’t fair,” he spat in a
strangled whisper. “It was my idea to
capture the long-neck. Zither’s a
coward and a fool!” But then, when
Vimml heard a familiar chirping from the thicket, he completely forgot his rage
and began running back to the shoreline were Zither and Illiakim stood.
“All
right, Team Leader Two, tell me truthfully,” the professor spoke hoarsely to
Zither now, “do you really think Team Two can achieve this feat with Rifkin’s
help?”
“Yes…
I do,” Zither sighed uneasily, as Vimml reappeared.
“Just
how much progress have you made in the past two hours?” Falon interjected
irritably.
“Well…
very little,” Zither admitted with a weary sigh, “that’s why we need Rifkin.”
“But
you hate Rifkin. Rifkin has
treated you deplorably!” Zorig objected, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I
know. That was not my doing. But I can’t leave this poor beast to be
eaten by those dreadful spike-toes,” Zither’s voice steadied as he spoke his
mind. “My teammates have worked hard today and have little to show for it. I think they deserve this chance too.”
“I
know how Vimml feels, but is this what you want Illiakim?” Arkru asked more
gently from the bridge.
Illiakim
was standing supportively at Zither’s side holding Zeppa’s fidgety hand.
“Yes
professor,” she gave a haggard reply, “but Zeppa’s acting terribly now. She wants to go back to the ship.”
“I
know that Illiakim,” the professor confessed wearily. “I should never have
allowed youngsters on this trip.
It’s only important to me that you support Zither now.”
A
twinge of pride tempered the professor’s mood as he considered Zither’s
words. Zither, unlike the
megalomaniacs Rifkin and Vimml, was a team player. In spite of Zeppa’s child-like fears, he had won Illiakim to
his side. He knew that Rifkin
would try to take credit for this find, and yet he was more concerned about the
welfare of his team and safety of the specimen than personal reward. Against his better judgment and the
opinion of everyone on the bridge, the professor acquiesced finally, a sigh
breaking his severe expression as he considered Rifkin’s magnanimous mood.
“Zorig,”
he ordered briskly, “I want you to supervise the collection teams’ re-entry.”
“Rifkin,” his tone became grave, “for Team Two’s sake and the good of our
mission, I’m trusting you one last time.
Drive the crawler up into the decontamination chamber and then wait for
the process to be completed. I
want Shizwit, Omrik, and Yorzl to remain on the ship. When the crawler is emptied, disembark again. So help me Rifkin, I want you to assist
Zither and use your crawler as a drone—nothing more!”
“Yes
sir!” Rifkin almost squealed with delight.
“Professor,
I want to go too,” Shizwit’s voice was husky with disappointment.
“No,
my little Key Master,” the professor spoke kindly now. “I’m very proud of your
progress, but this is Rifkin’s scheme.
He must do this himself!”
******
As
crewmembers Hobi, Jitso, and Gennep unloaded Crawler One, the decontaminated
and unsuited Omrik and Yorzl pranced into the elevator and were lifted happily
up to their quarters. Neither one
of these students would ever have to set foot on Irignum again. Zorig supervised the movement of the
decontaminated containers to temporary enclosures on level eight—Irignum’s
first level. Each container was
connected to a temporary enclosure into which its inhabitants were prodded by remote
robot arms operated by Zorig, himself. Contrary to Doctor Arkru orders, there was very little plant
material laid down for the specimens, so the chief technician made a special
note on his wrist communicator to inform the professor of this problem. The technicians and crewmen now had the
chance to view the first Irignian specimens aboard the ark. Several of them, who were finished with
their chores on ship, were already drifting onto level eight and watching the
drama unfold. Team One’s
collection, which, in addition to the juvenile leaper, included several
different kinds of lizards, snakes and mammals and the small flyer stunned by
Zither, would be displayed in the temporary enclosures. The permanent enclosures, which were
being constructed by technicians and members of the crew, were, in fact, in
various stages of completion. The
only finished portions of these enclosures were the plasmodex sheets, which
would allow the ship’s company to view these exotic creatures when the
permanent enclosures were complete.
For the time being, the temporary containers sat inside the unfinished
enclosures, their portable air canisters now replaced by tubes connecting the
containers with outside Irignian air.
A terrible din of whistling, hooting, chirping, and scratching made the
small specimens seem more terrible than they actually were. The most impressive specter to be seen
was the juvenile tyrannosaurus, which drew the largest audience of them
all. Zorig, Ibris, and Tobit would
build specially reinforced display chambers for such dangerous specimens. Because the drugs administered to it by
the darts had worn off completely, the snarling and hissing predator gave the
onlookers quite a show.
Shizwit,
who felt excluded because she was a girl, did not share Omrik and Yorzl’s
hatred of this mission. She waited
until her teammates had taken the first lift and stood in the elevator
smoldering with resentment for being left out. After showering, dressing in a bright tunic and eating a
hearty lunch, she returned to her quarters and sulked for several hours,
promising herself to make an issue of this affair when she saw the professor
again. For the time being, the Key
Master settled into her pod in a fetal position and fell into a deep,
dream-filled sleep.
******
Rifkin,
after having his air canisters recharged and reinstalled by Hobi, Jitso, and
Gennep, climbed back into the decontaminated crawler, waited impatiently for
the chamber to be emptied of personnel, and then prepared himself for what
might prove to be the greatest adventure of his life: capturing a long-neck, by
a lake no less, his crawler the key component to the rescue. What greater milestone in his career as
collector and explorer could there be than this?
While
delusions of grandeur filled Rifkin’s head and Crawler One hurled down the
beaten path through Zone Two, something strange began happening by the river
that would change Rifkin’s life.
Just when Team Two thought they had successfully drugged the long-neck
in preparation for transport to the ship, the beast suddenly and inexplicably
awakened and began thrashing wildly as they tightened the net around its
neck. Whether or not the darts had
not sufficiently dulled its wits or the creature had merely been worn out by
its ordeal and was getting a second wind, its sudden burst of energy undid all
their efforts at netting it and dragging it as far as they had.
“Wha-what’s
happening?” Vimml screamed, yanking ineffectually at the rope. “I-I thought he
was unconscious!”
“Obviously
he’s awake,” Zither tried sounding calm. “Vimml stand back. Illiakim, give him a few more darts!”
“Oh
no! He’s heading toward the
water. He’s taking the net with
him. He’s going to drown!”
Illiakim began weeping loudly into her headset.
Zeppa,
who had been ushered moments earlier to the crawler, huddled in her seat, a
look of terror on her face as a pair of spike-toes crept onto the scene.
To
the horror of Team Two, the long-neck had moved into the shallows of the river
with the net weighing it down. The
professor had been talking to Zorig over an intercom and had failed to hear
this exchange. When he turned his
attention back to Zone Two, the commander and his officers were sitting there
in stunned silence as they contemplated what to do.
For
several moments, in his grand scheme to regain the spotlight, Rifkin drove
crawler one over the beaten path, listening with alarm at what was happening by
the river. So set on his present
course was he, he did not hesitate.
He knew exactly what he must do.
The creature was in the water.
Since Team Two had failed to capture the long-neck, it was up to Rifkin
and Crawler One to save the day.
As a matter of pure coincidence, he swung into the clearing just in time
to chase the spike-toes back into the bush.
“Thank
you Rifkin,” Zeppa murmured breathlessly.
“Stop
this!” He heard the professor screaming to Team Two. “Stop this at once! Those tranquilizers have no lasting
effect upon this beast. You might
just end up killing him if you continue this barrage!”
“What
else can we do?” Zither cried in exasperation. “We can’t let him go now—he’ll drown!”
“I
want you to get away from that river!” Arkru became hysterical. “That’s were we
spotted the leaper attacking the scoop-mouth. Get out of there at
once!”
Thundering
through the clearing leading to the river was a familiar apparition. This time he rode alone into the jaws
of danger. Ballads would someday
be song about him, he was certain.
It was too bad Urlum could not see him now.
“Have
no fear, Rifkin’s here!” he cried, sloshing several feet into the water.
“Rifkin,
is that you? Rifkin, you haven’t
been trained in amphibious operation.
You get that vehicle out of that river at once!” Arkru sputtered into
his headset.
“Too
late sir,” Zither said numbly, “he’s already begun.”
Something
totally unexpected began to happen, as Rifkin maneuvered around the sauropod
and attempted to bump it back to shore.
A strange aquatic animal, which resembled a lizard but had a spiny
corrugated hide and long, ragged mouth, suddenly appeared, its long
dragon-toothed jaws opening and shutting as it approached the scene.
Everyone
who saw the monster remained mute for several seconds, which left the bridge to
wonder what horror was befalling the students now. Judging by its shadow under the water and the size of its
snout, Rifkin estimated that it was at least forty epsols long: a massive
cousin of the land dragons, obviously moving in for the kill.
The
juvenile alamosaurus, in spite of its already large size (by Revekian
standards), seemed doomed, until Rifkin looked into his rearview mirror and
spotted the force field poles in the back of his crawler. Fortunately they were lying loosely in
the container directly behind the backseat and he could just reach one of them
if he moved quickly and got a grip on one of the poles. Rifkin remembered the professor
scolding him about getting them wet.
In spite of what Doctor Arkru had told him about force field reactions in
water, he knew what he had to do.
Four of the poles, when activated, constituted an almost impervious wall
that would hold its occupants, causing a mild shock each time they tried to
escape. This had been demonstrated
in the meadow near the ship and in Zone One during his team’s capture of the leaper. Without a continuous beam from pole-to-pole,
it would not work and would remain inert until the activation button was
pushed. In water each activated
pole would automatically explode upon immersion. Upon dry land, it would explode upon impact with the ground,
sending shrapnel in all directions as would a future—albeit old fashioned—earth
rocket or bomb.
“It’ll
only take one,” Rifkin told himself, his mind now set on its course.
“Rifkin,”
Zither, who was very much afraid, called angrily over his radio, “the professor
is right. This isn’t necessary. We must all get out of here and let the
dragon have his meal. We don’t
need this particular long-neck.
It’s the natural order of things.
We’ll find another.”
“Get
everyone out of here!” Rifkin shouted across his landline. “That beast is coming
right at me. I’ll drive down the
shallows a ways and then hasten up the bank. When I get clear of the water, I’ll let him have it. It’ll be enough to put him out of
commission for awhile, so we can pull your beast onto land.”
“It’s
not my beast. This is not a contest,” Zither cried.
“We are a team Rifkin! When will you learn?”
Arkru,
who had been silent during this argument, suddenly flew into a rage.
“Rifkin,
are you a complete fool? You’re not fast enough to accomplish
such a feat. No one is. You’ll either be eaten alive or blown
to bits. Is this really how you
want to be remembered boy? Now get
that crawler out of the water! All
of you—Zither, Vimml, Illiakim and Zeppa—leave and let nature takes its
course!”
Everyone
did exactly as the professor demanded, except Rifkin, who was already leading
the great dragon down to another part of river. The wheels of the crawler were at their maximum level of
submergence before Rifkin remembered to switch to amphibious operation. Unfortunately, the crawler moved even
more slowly as a boat. Quickly,
before he ran out of traction, Rifkin got his hands on one of the poles.
“Let’s
see,” he mumbled to himself frantically “to activate this all I have to do is
push this red button… or is it the green?”
“It’s
the green, you numskull!” Arkru shouted into his headset again. “Red
deactivates the pole; it’ll will be inert then. If you don’t hurry Rifkin, it’s the Outer Reaches for you. Now get out of there at once!”
After
hearing Rifkin scream, the professor almost wept. Already the commander had called an emergency meeting of all
of his officers. Several crewmen,
who had made wagers, secretly congratulated each other on this turn of
events. Team Two could be heard
crying softly into their headsets.
Even Zither, Rifkin’s old adversary, was heartsick now. Team Three, who had successfully
captured a juvenile club-tail, had been resting from their efforts when the
dreadful event began. Rezwit and
his team now began racing back to the ship.
“By
Izmir, he’s right on your tail, isn’t he boy?” the professor groaned. “All for
one brainless, long-necked beast!
It’s too late to turn back Rifkin.
Now, before he follows you up the bank, you must outrun him and get
clear of the water before letting go of the pole. Remember Rifkin, when activated, it explodes upon impact
too.”
“Don’t
worry,” Rifkin said in a croaking voice. “I just hope I don’t hit a log in the
water.” “One drop of water might trigger it,” he told himself miserably,
holding the activated pole in his lap. “One jolt may blow me up…. What
have I done?”
“I
don’t know boy,” Arkru murmured into his microphone, as Commander Falon handed
him a note. “This time, you must help yourself!”
In the hastily scribbled note Falon cautioned Arkru
not to distract Rifkin now. When
he was out of danger, he was to inform his student to drive Crawler One onto
shore if possible and make it back to the ship. Otherwise, they would send a rescue party to bring him
back. It was the first indication
that Falon was taking control of Arkru’s mission. For several moments, a drama unfolded that caused the
professor and everyone else listening great emotional pain. Zorig, who was also very angry with
Rifkin, felt a pang of guilt since he half hoped the dragon would remove the troublesome
Rifkin from the scene.
Ironically,
though no one cared at this point, the juvenile sauropod they had been trying
to save, had freed itself from the net and was struggling ashore. The giant water dragon, who was more
interested in the alien, stopped suddenly and floated in the murky water,
swishing his great tail, his eyes and snout above the surface in the
characteristic pose of crocodiles and alligators of today. Idling a moment, in no hurry it seemed
to make the kill, he then began racing forward at an ever increasing speed,
barely giving Rifkin enough time to toss his bomb.
When
Rifkin was able to throw his missile toward the advancing juggernaut, he was
not sure he had thrown it hard or far enough. He prepared himself now for the Outer Reaches. His entire short life passed before him
in one blazing second. The effect
of the missile hitting the water was inexplicably delayed for Rifkin. A deathly silence fell over the
unseeing bridge, as it floated a moment on the surface of the water sizzling
and smoking before detonating in one great flash. Instead of killing the beast or even injuring him slightly,
it did what Arkru would have hoped for under normal conditions and merely
deflected it. Due to present
circumstances, Arkru cared more for Rifkin’s safety than the sanctity of alien
life. The dragon, who represented
the dangers of this planet, had become the enemy. A great geyser of water exploded, splattering Rifkin with
pond mud and slime, and knocking him out the crawler into the murky water
below. For a fleeting moment, he
remembered looking back at the vehicle, which had stopped on a sand bar near
the other side of the river, and seeing it sitting there totally intact. After a short interval in which the
vehicle remained idle, the battery powered engine would automatically shut
down, which meant that Crawler One would be ready to drive if he could ever
make it back across the treacherous river. At this point, it seemed light years away from him. Disoriented by the commotion but not
undaunted in his mission, the dragon circled around the wake caused by the
explosion, slowing down just enough to check out the uninhabited crawler, an
action which allowed Rifkin another chance to escape.
Swimming
in the water with his air-tight/water-tight suit proved to be awkward for
Rifkin since the suit, though somewhat buoyant, was not intended for such
use. He looked like a monstrous
beetle trying to paddle ashore.
One slight puncture in the material and Rifkin knew it might be worse
for him than being eaten by the beast.
There was no way of knowing how this corrosive atmosphere might react
upon his skin, especially in the water.
But he found himself moving at a frantic crawl to the bank. At least it was water-proof and he
wouldn’t sink, he thought grimly.
It certainly wasn’t made for navigating in the water.
He didn’t know how he would ever retrieve the
crawler, unless he managed to cross the river and walk out onto the sandbar
where the vehicle sat. It might as
well been on a different planet right now, Rifkin told himself, looking back
one last time in the direction of the crawler. Unfortunately, as he attempted to navigate the water, the
crocodile again had him in his sights and was charging toward him at an even
greater rate.
“This
is it,” he said calmly to the professor, “I’m sorry I was such a pain.”
Urlum,
who had stood silently in the background until now, screamed Rifkin’s
name. From the most junior crewmen
up to the commander, himself, a collective gasp accompanied Urlum’s lament:
“Rifkin! Oh, Rifkin! What you could’ve, should’ve, and might’ve done!” The
professor looked over to Zorig and shook his head sadly, motioning for him to
comfort his sister. No one, not
even the wage-makers, wanted this to be his end.
“Farewell!”
Rifkin’s voice turned into a sob.
Rifkin,
sensing that soon he would be entering the dark sleep or the Outer Reaches,
found himself, praying as the monstrous jaws opened and the beast was but a few
epsols from his feet. And then
something fortunate happened that caused those who could hear, but not see him,
even greater anxiety.
It
seemed as though he had paddled right up to a great log that was almost
submerged in the river. Rounding
its roots just in time to avoid the first snap of the crocodile’s jaws, he
realized there were also limbs stretching out in all directions, some of them
poked up from the surface of the water for several feet. If he could manage to
pull himself down below the surface without damaging his suit, the beast would
find it difficult to attack him without biting into a large chunk of the
tree. Relying on his breathing
system to maintain its integrity and his ability to pull himself as far into
the tangled foliage as he could go, he uttered one loud Revekian war whoop to
let his friends know he was all right.
“I’m
going to hide in these submerged limbs,” he explained, allowing himself to sink
further and further into the depths.
“Oh
Rifkin!” Urlum squealed.
“Smart
lad!” Arkru cried
“He’s
not out of danger yet,” Zorig cautioned, a faint crackling sound following in
Rifkin’s receiver.
At
that point, as the professor asked him what he planned on doing, the
communication link between Rifkin and the ship was broken, as the murky,
particle-filled water saturated the communication device with sludge.
“What
was that? You’re voice is breaking
up. Professor? Urlum! Zorig! Can anyone here me?” He frantically
called the bridge.
Turning
his attention to his immediate difficulties, he wondered if this was not how he
would finally meet his end. He had
defied all the rules in his short life.
He had given Izmir, the Celestial God, who ruled the cosmos, just cause.
As the water dragon continued biting at the tangled
limbs, Rifkin found the seldom-used headlight on his helmet still working, turned
it on shakily as he descended and marveled at how deep the river was so close
to its bank. Following one limb to
its end he looked back at the monstrous shadow behind, and then looked up to
the tangled nightmare above. On
the river bottom, in the murky depths of the water, he could see the outline of
something almost as frightening as the dragon above, until he realized what it
was.
“It’s
one of the long-necks!” he cried jubilantly. “Only this one’s really
gigantic. I just have to avoid its
great feet yet keep in close to its side.
I don’t think the dragon will dare attack something so large.” But his
headset remained silent.
He
was alone now, cut off from the others as surely as if he had been marooned in
space.
An
alamosaurus, the last great denizen of its kind, munched lazily on the water
plants and foliage of overhanging limbs.
The sauropod was, in future earth dimensions, over sixty-five feet long
and weighed up to forty tons. It
had, like all sauropods, a long graceful neck for reaching up and munching the
tops of tall trees and an equally long, whip-like tale that could crush a water
dragon or one of the many predators on land. Between its neck and tale, its massive body was supported by
short, trunk-like legs padded like those of an elephant. Because of its immense size and with no
natural enemies, it ignored the giant crocodile until it came close enough to
cause tremors in the river. As
Rifkin huddled close to its scaly side, he wondered if he would be treated like
one of the countless parasites of the rain forest crawling on such a big
beast’s skin. Would he swat him
off into the water to the waiting jaws of the dragon below? Or would he just crush him to death by
one terrible slap of its tail?
To
his satisfaction, Rifkin found the dinosaur totally oblivious to his
presence. Obviously, he told
himself, this brute was either incredibly stupid or it was used to small
creatures hovering around its body.
What his protector did take issue with, however, was the approach of the
crocodile. With a few swishes of
its mighty tail, it was swatted away from the scene. Almost immediately, the single-minded crocodile began
searching another sector of the river for prey.
As he floated precariously close to the beast’s side,
bobbing like a water-bug on the river, Rifkin looked up in wonder at the giant
sauropod. There was, he knew for
certain, no way they could put a beast even one-fifth its size onto their ship. But what a prize this would be for a
collector!
The
reminder of his broken communications felt like a weight in his chest and a
darkening shadow over his path, but there was no time to feel sorry for
himself. He must concentrate upon
survival now. As he searched the
nearby shore for signs of danger, he paddled awkwardly by the dinosaur, until
he could pull himself onto the bank by grasping onto the reeds. When he had struggled onto the dry side
of the bank and stood a moment longer looking in wonder at Irignum’s greatest
beast, it came back finally to him that he had marooned himself from the rest
of his kind. A second discovery
now struck him numb with anguish.
As he looked down to his empty holster, he found himself breaking down
and weeping as a child, which he was.
“Where
is my stunner?” he screamed into his headset. “I’ve lost my stunner! Great Celestial God, I lost my only
weapon! How could I have been such
a fool!”
He
was truly alone, weaponless and vulnerable to this planet’s dangers. He had no one to blame but himself.
“Please,
tell me where I am!” He shouted into his headset, in the hopes that, if he
yelled loud enough, the collector might hear. Once again, however, there was no answer. The silence from the bridge seemed
mentally deafening to him.
“What
have I done?” He groaned, slumping forlornly onto a log. “I have to get back
before its gets dark. How can I
find the crawler with that dragon lying in wait?”
Rising
numbly to his feet, he searched the patch of sky breaking through the trees,
wondering how much daylight he had left on this planet before he would be
moving in the dark. He still had
the headlight on his helmet and, thanks to a last minute decision to have his
canisters replenished, at least thirty-six hours of gas to breath, but he had
lost his weapon when he was blown off the crawler and, because he had drenched
his communication equipment, he had no way of contacting the ship. The sudden thump-thump thumpety-thump
of one of the forests beasts, now caused him to leap into the nearest bush.
When
he realized he had stumbled into a creature’s nest, he tried to avoid the eggs
but found himself falling directly onto them. By grabbing a large overhanging branch, he managed to break
his fall and not damage the eggs, and yet he had the terrible feeling he had
stumbled into the nest of one of those killers they had seen from the bridge
and rock. The thump of footsteps
continued, growing louder as the beast plowed through the trees.
“What
if this is its nest?” he wondered
aloud. “I’ll be trapped here—a perfect
snack!”
Looking
fearfully through the brambles, he could see to his mounting horror, a creature
very different from the giant killer spotted from the bridge and rock. Although somewhat smaller than the
great leaper, it was huge even by Irignian standards. Unlike the great leaper they had all seen before, who had
tiny, useless arms, it had long arms with huge dagger-like claws but rather
stumpy biped legs. There was a sail beginning at the nape of its thick neck,
rising up to over six feet at the center of its back and tapering until it
disappeared in its massive tail.
Rifkin wondered if the fan growing out of its vertebra was used to
control body heat. He could think
of no other reason for such a bizarre looking appendage. In its dragon-like head there was a
mouthful of dagger-sized teeth that were straight instead of curved like other
predators. In spite of it’s fierce
appearance and profound ugliness, it did not look as if it could run very fast
and was probably, Rifkin judged, the sort of killer who ambushed its victims,
very much like the werka of Raethia, who jumped out of bushes at unsuspecting
prey to make them their next meal.
Without his cumbersome life support system on, he could probably outrun
this brute. But such a comparison
gave him little comfort when it took into account that this planet’s killer was
probably three or four times as large as the werka and, trapped in his suit as
he was, he could barely run at all.
The question that hung heavily in Rifkin’s mind, as he hid in the bush,
was “is this the monster’s nest?”
Suddenly,
the carnosaur stopped in its tracks and stood there only a short distance from
the nest, as if sniffing the air.
The multicolored sail on its back moved backward and forward, as would a
fan. It’s nostrils flared and his
great arms with their dagger-sized nails seemed poised for the attack as it
looked for prey. Then, after
looking in the direction of Rifkin’s bush, it continued on its way. Soon afterwards, as the first monster
exited the scene, a large anatosaurus or duckbill—which the Revekians now
called scoop-mouths—passed by, barely missing the nest as it headed into the
river. A second and third dinosaur
appeared: juvenile leapers, who were evidently stalking the duckbill but were
unsure which way it had gone.
There remained the water dragon lurking in the river, who was large
enough to take such large prey.
Rifkin hoped that it had moved on and would leave the gentle scoop-mouth
alone.
The thought of his own encounter with the water
dragon made what Rifkin was going through now seem insignificant. Obviously this was not the sail-backed
monster’s nest. As a trophy,
Rifkin picked out one of the eggs and carried it awkwardly from the bush but,
having second thoughts, quickly put it back. Looking down at the tracks directly ahead, he could see
three giant toe marks leading from this spot, which indicated to him who might
own the nest. They were tremendous
and must belong to one of the giant killers of the forest.
“I was
right,” he swallowed heavily, “this is one of its eggs!”
Following
a trail marked by broken branches and crushed foliage left by the passing
killers, Rifkin began his long and perilous escape from the jungle. Every moment, such as his holdover in
the bush, delayed his trek back up that portion of the jungle where there was a
beaten path. He was running out of
daylight and time. Eventually, he
would run out of air.
“Where
am I?” he shouted into the headset. “I’ve got to find that path!”
Hearing
no response again, Rifkin scampered hysterically along the much more narrow
path, until it disappeared completely into an impregnable thicket and a great
wall of volcanic rock loomed above him.
Climbing carefully up the sloping rock, Rifkin hoped that it was
elevated high enough to survey the forest. He could think of nothing else constructive to do. Although it was inclined enough for him
to struggle to the top, it was almost as dangerous for him as the water, for
the face of the rock was jagged and might possibly tear his suit. Night was approaching, and he didn’t
want to be trapped on top. It
would be far more difficult to negotiate his way down in the dark. When he reached the summit of what was
apparently the neck of an ancient volcano whose cone had long ago eroded away,
he realized to his relief that he had cleared the tops of the forest trees
enough to see the ship. To a time
traveler looking out upon this primordial forest, the monstrous trilobite-like
form would have been a frightening specter to behold. Had there actually been primitive natives at this stage of
earth’s evolution, the great metallic bug might have been worshipped by them as
a god, especially after its dramatic arrival from the sky.
Such
thoughts would never have occurred to Rifkin, who had seen the giant sand bugs
of Orm and had been an eye-witness to dreamscapes much more strange, though not
as frightening, as what he witnessed now.
At this stage in his young life, nothing in the universe had surprised
Rifkin very much. He and his
shipmates had looked out from their portholes to witness black holes with
brilliant coronas of matter surrounding them. They had seen frigid comets close-up and witnessed the birth
of stars. On Raethia, where they
discovered the first monstrous forms of life, they had found giant multilegged
dakkas, who were harmless omnivores, and fierce, headless flying creatures
called hubrids, whose mouths opened where their stomach should be. As terrifying as the previous worlds
had been, the aliens had been relatively safe. They did not have to wear life support systems on the desert
planet of Orm, the forests of Raethia or the watery planet of Tomol. They
didn’t have to face ferocious creatures a hundred times their size or worry
about running out of air or dying of atmospheric poisoning. Rifkin was racing against the clock and
the environment, two constants that seemed to be beyond his control.