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Chapter Six

The Collection Teams

The aliens slept in the same chambers they had been encapsulated in during hibernation in deep space. The lids, which had been closed over them through countless light years, were now open, and the pods beneath were thought of as “sleeping pods” instead of suspended animation chambers, which, in fact, they were. The same leafy beds they nestled in on Revekia awaited them each time they turned in. For pillows they had home-grown moss and for a cover, when the air conditioning of the ark would chill them, they had a blanket woven of Revekian grass.

As Rifkin, Zither, and all the other students and technicians arose this morning, they were filled with excitement, fear, and misgivings. For Doctor Arkru there would be the added discomfort of a hangover after drinking so much beer.

The wake up call from the bridge sounded as if it came within his nightmare. . . He was alone in Irignum’s terrible jungle without a stunner or trap, strangely enough running as he had as a child through the forest, only this time it was not his pet vrungy chasing him to his home; it was none other than the great leaper they saw in their viewing screens and from the rock. The ground shook from beneath his sandals, and the air was filled with its awful roar. A call very much like Falon’s deep voice carried god-like resonance to it--”Doctor Arkru, this is Commander Falon giving you the wake up call you requested!”--but to the dream child it sounded muffled and indistinct as voices often do in dreams.

Hearing the deep, resonant voice of Commander Falon, the dream child wondered why anyone would call out such a strange name. Doctor Arkru, indeed! His parents had nicknamed him Mooksy, which meant little hopper, because he was always hopping from one thing to another. “Save me Izmir! Save me from the leaper!” He called out to the god-like voice above, until he could clearly discern the message being conveyed.

“Doctor Arkru! Doctor Arkru!” the voice came from his private intercom. “This is your last wake up call. I must assume you’re up and simply not responding. Please meet me on the bridge!”

Arkru awakened, though his large, feline eyes remained at half-mast. The professor’s head bumped the bottom of the lid of his pod as he bolted from his bed of grass. As he stumbled from his pod, he realized that the ringing in his skull was not just from the bump to his noggin. He had been very foolish at lunch yesterday. He had been barely cognizant at dinner for that matter, and Zorig had to take over his role as the students’ leader. Hopefully his second-in-command had said just the right words, for Arkru’s memory was muddled this morning. Today was a big day for his students. . .Today they would be on their own!

“I’m a blundering fool!” he cried out, struggling into his clothes. “How many times have I preached on the evil of strong drink?”

The bright yellow pants and green tunic laid out by Ibris or Tobit the night before belied a mood he did not feel this morning but one he must somehow convey to his students, who needed all the inspiration they could get. After the students begin their expeditions, he must also motivate his technicians, for today they would, with the help of Hobi, Jitso, and Gennep--on loan from the commander--begin in earnest building the enclosures and creating the atmosphere for the alien species brought back to the ark. He must, as the leader of the students and technicians, be up to the task.

“Oh, why did I make such a spectacle of myself at lunch?” he muttered with self-recrimination. “I set a dreadful example for my pupils and technicians. I’ve got to make a good showing of myself today. I must not fail them now!”

But it took all of the professor’s effort just to get dressed and drag himself to the dining hall. The thought of mustering with his students in the ship’s hold after breakfast and putting on that hideously overweight life support system depressed him greatly now. Even worse was the realization that he had to take it off again and go through the process of decontamination before he could sit comfortably at his chair in the laboratory and do his work.

During a modest breakfast for the students and technicians--Falon and his crew had breakfasted at dawn and were already about their duties--the professor began feeling a little more like his old self. This meant that he still felt all of his one hundred and twenty-seven years this morning, but he felt a little more confident he would not collapse before he sent his brave students off into the unknown.

Of all the students assembled in the dining hall and chattering about the imminent collections ahead, Arkru worried about Zither the most. It was easy enough for a stout hearted fellow like Rifkin to take risks or a rascal like Vimml who did not know any better. But for someone as frightened as Zither to put on such a good face and strike out into the unknown required true courage. At least this is what the professor told himself as he ate his breakfast and listened to Zorig go over the laboratory assignments his technicians were responsible for today.

“You really think we can get the enclosures done on time?” Ibris was asking Zorig, as the Chief Technicians paused to drain his cup.

“Of course,” Zorig replied in a cheery mood. “Falon promised all the crewmen we need, just like before. Frankly I don’t think Hobi, Jitso and Gennep will be enough. This time we have the advantage of using the abundant flora growing here on Irignum for each enclosure.”

“Yes, Zorig, my thoughts exactly,” Arkru said, rubbing his temples, repulsed by the sight of food and drink. “The technicians and students will begin collecting the plants soon. But I want my technicians to concentrate on the synthetic portion of the enclosure. We have enough plasmodex for the environmental chambers; we will turn them into proper living quarters for Irignum’s species later when the collections are being done. For now, I’ve instructed the students to bring back plant stuff with their specimens that can be used in recreating their respective habitats in the forest.”

Feeling much better mentally if not physically, the professor forced himself to eat as much breakfast as he could, knowing he would need his strength for the long hours ahead. As he talked idly with Urlum and listened to the hum of the room, he allowed his students and technicians as much time as possible to dine and bond together before the designated hour.

Doubt had begun creeping into the professor’s mind. Misgivings stared him in the face each time he looked across at the students scattered around the room. Although his students had not failed him on the mission so far, there was much about this planet they had not learned.

Once again, as the student body rose up at Zorig’s signal, Doctor Arkru felt immense pride for his pupils and for his technicians too. They were, he continued to believe, his greatest class. He knew how much Rifkin wanted to prove himself and was aware of Vimml’s wish to upstage Zither and Alafa’s desire to show Rezwit that female collectors were as good or better than males. He could not believe, after the show of camaraderie he saw yesterday and this morning, that the problems between his students were insurmountable, even though it was plain to many of those around him that these rivalries were disasters waiting to happen in the days ahead. It was, in Falon and his officer’s thinking, just a matter of time.

******

This morning Zorig, Ibris, Tobit, and Urlum would not have to put their life support systems on and go into the forest. This suited the more cautious technicians just fine. Only the professor, for moral support more than anything else, would have to put on his life support system. It required two students to help one student put on his or her’s suit, but all four of Arkru’s technicians were necessary to help him put on his. Under normal circumstances, the students would step into their cumbersome suits from stools and have them pulled up over their scantily clad bodies by classmates tugging on each side. Ship’s crew members were standing by this time to assist them and make sure that everything was fastened correctly and airtight. The relatively lightweight helmets were the last item fastened to their suits. Air would be turned on from the canisters and monitored carefully by Eglin, the ship’s doctor. The students, their simian heads glistening with sweat, would start breathing the mixture. Their vital signs would be checked by the doctor and his medical assistant, Varik, to make sure the canisters were functioning properly and the helmet was circulating enough air. Everyone, from the commander on the bridge down to the medic reading the gauges, had to be satisfied that each student was suited up properly and ready to disembark.

For Doctor Arkru, who had decades of experience suiting up, the experience was still trying and even with all four of the technicians busily preparing him for disembarkation, he found it especially burdensome this time.

“I wish I could be with you, professor,” Zorig lied, as he exited the decontamination chamber. “I’ll stay on the bridge until you return topside. Take care when you walk down the ramp.”

“You don’t fool me one bit, Zorig!” Arkru muttered testily. “I know you pity me for having to go out again. Well, my problem is not Irignum’s gravity, its poisonous atmosphere or this monstrous suit; its Revekian beer. If you wish to pity me, pity my foolishness. By Izmir, that must not happen again!”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Tobit winked, giving his helmet a pat.

“I wish we were back in space,” Urlum said plaintively to herself as she followed her brother into the hall.

When the decontamination chamber door finally closed and the students, who stood alongside of the three crawlers that would take them into the forest, saw the ramp slowly drop and Irignum’s morning light stream in, there was a sudden and inexplicable silence. Everyone knew that there was something different about today. The professor uttered a spontaneous prayer to himself for the students exiting the ship.

While Rifkin, Zither, and Rezwit climbed into the three crawlers that would carry their teammates into the jungle, the remaining students preceded them down the ramp. Down they ambled: nine small aliens from the planet of Revekia. With bulbous helmets masking their bald, simian heads and camouflaged in their bulky, white life support systems, they outwardly resembled astronauts of a latter day.

In expectation of today’s wonders, they huddled quietly below the ship, not at all like the rowdy group seen yesterday or the day before. After starting up their engines, the team leaders descended one by one in their crawlers: Rifkin, Rezwit and finally Zither, out of logical sequence because of Rezwit’s insistence to be behind his friend. In spite of their efforts to appear dignified, their radio headsets conveyed their first impressions as leaders, driving off without adult supervision for the first time on this world. Rifkin sang. Zither prayed. Rezwit seemed to be laughing hysterically to himself. Down below, as the first, second, and third crawlers disembarked, the students cheered repeatedly but in a descending ratio of enthusiasm as Rifkin, Rezwit, and then Zither drove a short distance from the ship and parked. The last one to exit the decontamination chamber was the professor, himself, who took much longer this time to make his way on foot down the ramp.

As quickly as possible, he gave them his official blessing, mumbled a prayer to Izmir, the great Celestial God again and, as an afterthought, took the three team leaders aside to remind them of their tasks today. Zorig had, on his behalf, already said the same thing to the entire student body at dinner last night, but he needed to press home the responsibilities and duties that the team leaders had for their teams.

“You are to take your teams in shallow this morning as we discussed,” he instructed them. “This is still a time for testing our traps and our stunners. So go no further than three miles from the ship.” “No random potshots at creatures,” he looked at Rifkin now. “No efforts to show off or prove your bravery,” he looked at Rezwit and then at Zither, who was the most visibly frightened of the leaders. “Remember,” he said to all three leaders now, “you don’t have to prove anything to me or each other. You’re still students. You’re learning to be collectors and scientists, not warriors or hunters.”

“I want you to collect only juveniles and newly-hatched creatures and to gather any eggs you can,” his voice rose so all the students could hear. “Bring me the plants from their nests and environments. Everything must be transportable. If you find anything small enough to gather with your gloves, remember to dart them first and use your nets. Use your stunners as defensive weapons only, and do not fire wantonly on Irignum’s beasts.” The professor’s voice dropped low again as he looked each one of the leaders in the face. “Do you understand me clearly?”

“Yes Doctor Arkru,” they answered gravely, returning to their teams.

The professor watched the students climb into their respective crawlers with their leaders at the helm and drive off into three cardinal directions: north, west and east. The only zone not covered was south of the ship which was mostly a great plain, covered by herds of three horns and other browsing herbivores.

As planned, Team One drove west into the forest, Team Two north of the ship, and Team Three headed east into the sector visited the previous day. It was a painful but glorious moment for Doctor Arkru. Their traps, nets, darts, and stunners would have to protect them now.

He had entrusted only four of his students with stunners and fully expected them to share their knowledge with their charges. He just hoped that they would not play with the guns as children often do. He also prayed that they remembered how to set their traps and used their darts and nets well. More than anything else he hoped their weapons had the effect on Irignum’s creatures he had been expecting. He prayed now that his students used common sense over childish awe in the forest today.

From the bridge, Falon also watched the students depart into the unknown. From a different monitor, he could also see the professor plodding toward the ramp, his body weighed down with more than mere gravity now as the crawlers rumbled away.

“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” he said to Zorig, as the chief technician looked over his shoulder in order to see the students depart. “I will not feel right about those children’s welfare until we put this world behind us once and for all!” The commander’s words mirrored Zorig’s own thoughts.

******

The life support systems that the students wore were big and bulky for several reasons. Perhaps the most important reason they were so cumbersome was because the large canisters fastened on the back of their suits carried a three day supply of enriched oxygen, helium and methane--the blend which the Revekian must breathe. Also vital was the suits’ nearly invincible and weighty outer sheath, which included specially fabricated boots and gloves that would not tear during use. The systems were, of course, both air and water tight. A tough inner sheath insulated them and separated their delicate skin from an air-conditioning network powered by special batteries, which accounted for nearly half of the suit’s bulkiness and weight. Their suits were so intricately fitted to their fragile bodies they were almost unaware of the air they breathed or the wastes being excreted into the system until they began moving across the ground. As soon as they began to exert themselves outside of the ship, they would begin feeling the heavier gravity of this planet upon their bulky suites, the canisters on their backs, the tubes disposing their bodily wastes, and the many gauges monitoring their vital signs as they plodded along Irignum’s bumpy ground.

The most important piece of equipment in the life support system was, of course, the helmet atop the suit. It consisted mainly of plasmodex, the same sturdy material used for the ship’s windows and the enclosures built for the ark. The gas mixture was pumped from the canisters on their backs through lines attached to the back of their helmet, while a two-way radio was installed in its metal rim. The radio acted as both a link to the ship and a land-line between other collectors in the field. It was important for the children to remain in constant communications with the ship at all times and pay close attention to the bridge. Although the two-way radios in the children’s helmets were actually one communication line shared by them all, the professor assigned each team a separate number, so that the bridge knew from what team a student was reporting in. Lights below the bridge’s communication console, which were numbered 1, 2 and 3, would flash to indicate both the collection zone and student team. Unfortunately, unlike the ship, itself, there was no directional homing device built into the life support system’s helmet, and the technology allowing the professor or commander to distinguish the team’s identity and its zone number would not help them locate team members if they were lost.

A second deficiency in helmet design, almost equally shortsighted, would also be blamed for communication problems in the forest. Afraid that his students would run amuck outside the ship, Doctor Arkru, at Falon’s insistence, took the preventative step of deactivating the normal radio controls. As a consequence, unlike the two-way radios used by the ship’s crew, the children could not change frequencies or turn their receivers volumes up or down. To the irritation of the collectors, not only could the bridge hear them at all times, but they were forced to listen to everything said on the bridge as well as the whining, complaining and idle chatter of students in other teams. Because it was necessary to eavesdrop on the children, there was, in effect, only one radio frequency for both the bridge and the student teams, with no way to isolate one voice or set of voices when the need arose. During the ceaseless racket, all three lights, in all three zones, would blink on and off constantly, making the numbers assigned by Doctor Arkru useless when everyone was talking at once.

A third deficiency, not as apparent as the others, but one that grew serious as problems multiplied in the forest, was the low sensitivity of the two-way radios in the helmets. Unfortunately for the professor and commander, though they crained their ears to hear, a faint whisper or murmur uttered by one of the children could easily be missed by them, especially if there was static on the radio or if the explorers were out of range. This static, which could be seen as a fourth deficiency in helmet design, was caused by the unstable sealer around the radio’s circuitry that would later, when filled with water and sludge, prove to be disastrous when put to the test.

In addition to the problems of the radio’s redesign and the difficulties in hearing or, more importantly, not hearing every verbal exchange, there was the attitude of the explorers, themselves, that no technology could overcome. Rifkin, Rezwit, and Vimml, who had gotten away with so much before, would try the professor and commander’s patience and prove how difficult it was to maintain strict phone discipline on this world.

The student explorers could never totally adapt to this hostile planet, only rise above it as Rifkin and Rezwit seemed able to do. The physical, as well as mental, restrictions placed upon them by Irignum seemed unbearable at times. Inside the crawlers carrying them to their destinations, they could occasionally rest inside their suits, but even these periods of leisure would take a physical toll as the vehicles rocked and jolted along the beaten animal paths.

From a distance as it moved across the ground, the Revekian crawler looked very much like a lunar vehicle or amphibious landing craft. The closer it came to the observer, the more its similarities to these types of vehicles would become apparent. In place of wheels, it rolled along on two metal belts similar to a caterpillar tractor or military tank. As all vehicles that moved along on metal plates, it was able to negotiate rough terrain but, as a result of this motion, moved very slowly, with a maximum speed of about twenty-five miles per hour. It’s rugged frame, which, like the Revekians’ life support systems, was made of nearly invincible material, was painted green to match the forest, with the vehicle’s number stenciled in bold white letters on the hood.

Typical of most land vehicles, it had an accelerator and break pedal in the floorboard and a steering wheel protruding from the dashboard. In addition to these simple controls, there was a special switch for amphibious operation and a lever for the operation of the winch. The seating compartment was built for only a driver and one passenger in the front seat and two passengers in the back, although two additional passengers could be crammed into the compartment if an emergency arose. Most of the available space on the crawler was intended for specimens. There were several environmental containers in each crawler, which, when the air-conditioning systems were activated, pumped in Irignian air for their occupants so the specimens could be transported in their temporary homes directly to the ship.

A winch on the vehicle was available for pulling heavy objects up to the back of the crawler, but on this planet heavy could mean several tons. Instead of doors on the vehicle, ladders had been welded on the belt housing encircling the seating compartment. A canvass top hidden aft of the container hold could be pulled up over the seating compartment and anchored to the windshield frame if it rained, and yet there were no windows surrounding this compartment to protect the collectors from the wind. The vehicle also did not have shocks installed beneath its carriage to soften the jolts and vibrations of the road. Except for the top cover and cushioned seats on which they sat, the Revekian crawler offered the explorers little comfort against natural elements or the bumpiness of the road.

Internally, the vehicle was propelled by a battery powered engine and was moved along by flexible plates that were able to negotiate all manner of surface irregularities or debris. In spite of the crawler’s apparent ruggedness and excellent mobility, however, it had not been designed with Irignum in mind. Its invincibility would account for nothing if it got bogged down in mud or fell into an unseen chasm on this world. The students’ life support systems, for that matter, had been tested out on the planet Orm, whose atmosphere and gravity was the same as their own. Their special suits had been worn by the crewmen, pupils, technicians and professor only once before during a training session on Orm. Although they had tested out very well in this planet’s relatively low gravity, this was the first time they had to use the suits for a prolonged period of time on a world where the gravity was noticeably greater and they could not even breath the air. So far their life support systems had proved to be comfortable when they were sitting in one place, but the suits proved to be cumbersome and awkward as soon as the students and technicians began walking on this hostile world.

On this morning, despite the natural fears of children and the recklessness of youth, there was an amazing period of restraint and maturity exhibited in each collection team. This amazing period of restraint, the ship’s officers wagered, would last about an hour--just long enough for many of the students to become tired, cranky and bored with following the rules. Falon believed that the day would not end until disaster had struck the student collectors. He confided this to Orix as they took their positions on the bridge. Doctor Arkru, who was already sitting at his module, was greatly annoyed by their attitude. First Mate Remgen and Chief Engineer Dazl, who stood in back of the commander and navigator, were just waiting for a calamity to befall the children. He could see it in their gloating faces. Several crewmen, it was rumored, had actually made wagers that many of these “whelps” would be eaten by these beasties before the day had ended. Arkru now wondered if Remgen, Dazl and the other officers had made wagers, themselves. They had, he recalled with vexation, all shown great disrespect for his students yesterday at the feast.

Unfortunately for everyone on the bridge, the only view they would have of the students would be from those cameras beneath and around the ship, which would capture images only within visual range. When they were in the jungle, only the two-way radios from zones 1, 2 and 3--connected the student collectors to the ship. This allowed the listeners’ imaginations to soar and made the professor wish he had designed video links into their helmets instead of worrying so much about them dabbling with the controls.

* * * * *

With the marksmen wreath on his helmet, Rifkin was the first leader to drive his team away from the ark on their first official expedition into the western sector of the surrounding forest--the area professor Arkru designated correspondingly as Zone One. The wreath, which Rifkin designed himself from Revekian moss, quickly blew off as a breeze whipped past his helmet, generating laughter from the classmates in back. Though Team One’s crawler was only a speck to the cameras as it zoomed toward Zone One, it was, in the tradition of Rifkin, the first to begin the expedition, and everyone on the bridge could not help cheering this warrior on.

Omrik sat next to Rifkin, riding “shotgun”, with Rifkin’s stunner clutched fearfully in his trembling hands. Yorzl sat in the back seat cowering in Shizwit’s embrace. Shizwit, who thought of herself as the Key Master now, was surprisingly calm, a faint smile playing on her face. She had watched with quiet mirth as Rifkin’s wreath blew past.

Hoping that his own enthusiasm might prove infectious to his teammates, Rifkin sang an alien song of glory that would have sounded to modern earthlings like the caterwauling of a cat:

Marching gallant through galaxies,

defying the scientists’ call.

With the purpose of changing history,

the Old One’s conquered all.

Duty became recreation

in that warlike, carefree age.

The sport of annihilation

was played on a cosmic stage.

As the vehicle rolled down a beaten animal path into the forest, Yorzl informed the happy adventurer, as if he was reciting it to the classroom, “Singing songs over the radio is forbidden.” Rifkin, however, was just getting started. He had memorized many verses:

Death to Furzi, Rimmi and Modrit

for testing Revekian clout.

Because these planets refused to quit,

the Old Ones wiped them out.

Though out of sight, Rifkin’s song, in addition to plaguing his classmates, was heard on the bridge. Falon looked around at the others that moment with an “I told you so” look on his face yet said nothing. It was Shizwit, not the commander or professor, who reminded Rifkin that “the Old Ones were exiled by the good doctors for their warlike behavior.” Omrik, however, said nothing as he sat holding the gun.

“Fear not my timid Omrik and fearful Yorzl!” Rifkin cried good-naturedly as the crawler hurled into the shadows of the trees. “Take heart, Oh Keeper of the Keys!”

He would, he promised condescendingly, make them collectors just like himself. Feeling inadequate to hold Rifkin’s stunner (especially since it was forbidden by the professor), Omrik looked around the darkening forest with trepidation. Yorzl was utterly terrified, while Shizwit was annoyed by Rifkin’s arrogant behavior. She now thought of herself as a watchdog for Rifkin’s reckless ways. When Doctor Arkru had made her Keeper of the Keys, she had come to realize that, as a key master, she was really a keeper of scientific tradition.

“This is not a game,” she declared, wagging a gloved finger at the head grinning at her in the rearview mirror. “You’re driving recklessly! Pay attention to the road! This is not a desert path on Beskol, Revekia or Orm!”

The student collectors could now hear laughter from the bridge. Perversely it seemed to Arkru, Falon and his staff were amused. Shizwit had to comfort Yorzl constantly as he cringed at the sounds of the jungle and each snap of dried branches below the metal plates of Crawler One as it rumbled down the path. Already it seemed to them that Rifkin was out of control. During this introduction to collection in Irignum’s forests, it seemed that they were all in the clutches of a deranged mischief-maker bent on driving them into the very maws of destruction. Very soon, however, this same lunatic was pulling off the path into a small clearing and, very clearheadedly, barking orders to them to begin preparing the trap.

“Grab the poles students,” he directed haughtily. “Place them in a square on the beaten path as the professor said. Hurry! Make haste! We want to get the jump on the others and take the most specimens back to the ship.”

The trap was set more sloppily than the prototype the professor had fussed over so much by the ship. The ground was soft here in the jungle clearing, while the earth in the meadow had been hard and difficult to dig. The poles could more easily be tapped into the soil with the flat side of the shovel. After eye-balling the layout of the trap and hastily calibrating each pole, Rifkin and the timid Omrik lie in wait behind a bush near the beaten path. Yorzl, in Shizwit’s protective embrace again, listened for the rustle of advancing beasts. When their quarry did not appear soon and the jungle seemed to leave them alone, Rifkin ordered his teammates to begin collecting small animals from the bushes around the clearing. The shadowy, featureless green surrounding them did not inspire confidence. Yorzl began whimpering. Shizwit, who was offended by Rifkin’s bossiness, flatly refused. Omrik was then insulted by Rifkin for failing to obey the team leader’s commands. He warned Omrik that he would tell everyone that he was a coward, but Omrik, unlike Zither, didn’t care. When his insults failed to prod him over to the bushes, Rifkin played upon Omrik’s honor as a representative of scientific tradition, which made Omrik laugh hysterically at such a thought.

At this point, to Rifkin’s discomfort, Shizwit stepped forward for the task. As Rifkin and Shizwit went about ferreting out little creatures crawling or slithering on the ground and bushes nearby, Omrik was shamed finally into joining the effort. Like Yorzl, he had a begrudging admiration for Rifkin’s spirit and energy if not his reckless élan. Even the normally shy Shizwit, Rifkin noted begrudgingly, was stirred to bravery by his mood.

Omrik and Yorzl managed to capture a strange segmented creatures crawling near their vehicle and net a snake, several lizards, and one of those furry creatures that they had all seen peering furtively from the forest’s edge. As Rifkin and Shizwit cornered a lemur-like mammal in a shrub, Omrik and Yorzl squeamishly placed the netted bugs they had caught into a container with the lizards, while the furry creature skittered up a nearby tree. Omrik had never seen such carnivorous creatures on other planets and assumed that the bug was too ugly and hard-shelled to eat, but one of the lizards netted by Yorzl immediately ate one of the segmented creatures crawling on the side of the container, so Omrik hastily put the remaining three bugs in a separate box. Meanwhile, the small snake was set upon by the other lizard, and he had to place it in yet another box. Yorzl squealed in terror as the largest of the two lizards escaped. The reptiles skirted across his shoulder and gas canisters and jumped to safety onto the ground below until being snatched up in Omrik’s gloves. Rifkin gently chided them both for their stupidity as he and Shizwit grappled with the mammal in the bush.

It appeared to Rifkin and those listening to Team One that Shizwit had come out of her shell. She was acting almost as fearless as Rifkin now that she was caught up in the chase. In spite of Rifkin’s overbearing behavior, Omrik was actually enjoying himself, while Yorzl, after his experiences, wanted to go back to the ship.

Rifkin and his team could hear the voices of their comrades over their airways as Team Two and Team Three navigated into the northern and eastern zones. The bridge had likewise heard everything Rifkin had been saying to his team. According to Zorig last night, students were not suppose to talk needlessly over the radios and tie up potential communications with the professor, commander and the bridge. They could listen in to each other over their radios but, unless an emergency arose or the professor called to check on his teams, they were not suppose to chatter idly or sing songs over their landlines as Rifkin was doing today.

“I expect you to admonish him,” Falon said to Arkru with his microphone momentarily turned off.

“Team members in Zone One, come in,” Arkru’s crackly voice now startled Team One members half out of their wits.

“Rifkin here.”

“Omrik here.

“Shizwit here.”

“Yorzl here.”

“Yorzl, you sound as if you’ve been crying again,” Arkru observed with concern.

“A big old snake crawled on me,” he complained with a shudder.

“Rifkin, are you watching Yorzl as you promised?” snapped Arkru, a note of wariness in his voice.

“Yorzl’s doing just fine,” Rifkin assured the professor pertly.

“Have you set your trap in the correct spot?” Arkru asked him sternly.

“On a beaten path, near a clearing as you ordered,” Rifkin responded, rolling his eyes.

Falon nudged the professor politely when he hesitated. Zorig, who was standing behind Arkru, whispered something into his ear.

“Oh yes, Rifkin,” Arkru said, clearing his throat, “you stop carrying on over your radio. The commander and his officers are listening to everything you say.”

“Very well Doctor Arkru,” replied Rifkin, shaking his head in disbelief, “I was just trying to charge them up.”

The professor had wanted to sound stern for Falon and Orix’s benefit, but he felt great empathy for his students now. Rifkin was pushing his team too hard. That, not the normally cocky show-off heard on Beskol and Orm, should concern the bridge most. He should have taken him to task for badgering Omrik the way he did. He could hear their grunts and groans over the airways as they hustled back and forth at Rifkin’s command.

Shizwit, to Arkru’s satisfaction, however, seemed to be holding her own. Though it had no effect on his behavior, she had put him in his place more than once during the hour. Omrik was trying very hard to get into the spirit too as he helped Shizwit and Rifkin fill the containers with what they had caught. But little Yorzl continued to whine and complain, as the commander predicted, taking this opportunity to call out to the professor, as if his voice would protect him from afar.

“I’m so very hungry!” he exclaimed. “I’m so very tired!”

Shizwit tapped out a message on her wrist communicator: Slow down Rifkin; Yorzl, Omrik, and I need a rest!

More quietly this time, Rifkin continued to monitor the trap for any prize specimens, his main goal to outdo, outshine, and out collect everyone else. At Shizwit’s insistence, though, he allowed his team to take a short break. All four sat down inside the crawler waiting for a beastie to fall into their trap.

******

As he sat at the bridge beside the scowling Falon and Navigator Orix, Arkru now turned his attention to his other two teams.

“Team Two, come in,” he called to Zither now.

Zither had just found a meager clearing for his team in Zone Two. In contrast to Vimml, he responded less energetically than Team Leader One.

“Zither here.”

“Vimml here.”

“Illiakim here.”

“Zeppa here.”

“Zither, you don’t sound so sure,” the professor seemed worried. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes sir,” Zither replied unconvincingly, “everything’s fine!”

As Zither surveyed the surrounding meadow, he was again gripped with terror. Only the abiding presence of his alter-ego Vimml kept his mind straight.

“This meadow is perfect. We have an excellent vantage point hiding behind these trees,” Vimml sounded off, hoping the professor heard.

“I want to go home,” Zeppa wailed in the background.

“Zither, I think Zeppa and Yorzl may be too young for this sort of thing,” Arkru’s voice came calmly into their helmets now. “How are you and Illiakim getting along?”

“Illiakim is acting like a dakka,” Vimml offered, turning to her and sticking out his tongue.

“Vimml, remember what I told you,” the professor spoke exclusively to him now. “You’re an important key member now.”

A surge of excitement shot through Vimml as he recalled Arkru asking him to lend the older student his enthusiasm and expertise. It’s true, he thought slyly, Zither can’t possibly succeed without me! When the professor sees how incompetent he is, he’ll put me in charge of our team!

As Team Two climbed out of their crawler, Zither could hear the loud hoot of a leviathan climbing out the lake, and he knew that they were not far from a body of water--the one place, they were told by the professor, were most of the planet’s denizens lurked.

Vimml had already spotted an excellent place to set the trap on and hopped out excitedly with two of the poles already in his hands.

“Be careful with those!” Zither scolded. “When they touch water, they explode!”

“Zither, what’s going on in Zone Two?” the professor blared into their helmets.

Rifkin had been annoyed by the professor’s intrusiveness, but Zither welcomed it as his link to the safety of the ship.

“Nothing sir,” he answered cheerily to his mentor. “Vimml found us a good place to set our traps. We’re next to a body of water of some sort.”

“You take charge Zither, not Vimml!” barked Arkru, a suspicious edge in his voice. “Be careful where you set the trap. Stay away from the water until I have a chance to check it out. Just get me small creatures this time. Juveniles, small enough for our containers, hatchlings and little creatures you can grab up with your gloves.” “Vimml,” he interrupted himself to say, “no heroics out there. Your not romping on Beskol with Rikfin and Rezwit. You work with Zither like we planned!”

“Yes professor,” Vimml said, a devilish gleam in his eye.

The professor now switched to Zone Three. At that very moment, Rezwit and Alafa were screaming at each about something Grummel had just done. It seemed as though Rezwit’s perfect team was being marred at last by Grummel’s erratic behavior and the awful likelihood that they were lost.

Grummel, who had never been certified to use a stunner, had begged Rezwit against Alafa’s wishes to let him just hold the gun so he could get the feel of it in his hand. Letting Grummel hold his gun was, the professor thought with disgust, a profoundly stupid move on Rezwit’s part. After firing over the head of Alafa in the back seat at a juvenile duckbill emerging from a thicket, the gun was immediately confiscated by Alafa even though no damage had been done. It was at this point that the conversation was picked up on the bridge.

“Give it back to me you dakka!” Grummel shrieked. “I thought it was attacking us. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that you fired that over my head!” Alafa wrung her fist in Grummel’s face. “You could’ve melted my helmet and ruined the integrity of my suit!”

“Well, I scared it away, didn’t I?” Grummel turned to Rezwit for support. “What if it had been a leaper, you stupid dakka? It might’ve attacked us or caused Rezwit to have a wreck!”

“Team Three!” Doctor Arkru boomed into their helmets now. “Sound off students and tell me what’s happening in Zone Three!”

“Grummel here.”

“Lumnal here.”

“Alafa here.”

“Grummel thought we were being attacked,” Rezwit explained lamely, climbing out the vehicle and placing his gun back into his belt.

“Some leader he is,” Alafa complained directly to the professor, hopping out of the back seat. “First he lets Grummel have his gun and then he gets us lost!”

“Lost?” Arkru cried in disbelief.

“Well, not exactly,” Rezwit tried to explain, “There was a fork in the path. We just don’t know where we are.”

“He’s not lost,” Orix murmured sarcastically to Falon on the bridge, “he just doesn’t know where he is, as if somehow that’s not the same thing!”

“Ask me if I’m surprised,” Falon replied in utter disgust.

“Rezwit, is this true?” Arkru sputtered into the microphone now. “You just entered the forest. Are you really lost?”

“Well…yes…sort of,” Rezwit continued to equivocate.

“Great Izmir,” Arkru gave a wounded cry, “that can’t be! We were just in those woods yesterday, Rezwit! Don’t you remember that nice, big meadow we drove up to? That would have been a perfect place to begin collecting. How can you possibly be lost?”

“From the edge of the forest,” Rezwit murmured into his transmitter, “it all looks the same to me: green on green. . .One beaten path looks like another. . . All we need is one little clearing to set our trap, but all I can see are trees and more trees.”

“This is the worst scenario for an explorer,” Falon muttered angrily for Arkru’s benefit. “It was bad enough he forgot to take the right path, but he lost his bearings. I hope he had enough sense to mark his trail!”

“Rezwit,” the professor picked up the cue, “please tell me you marked your trail.”

A long silence and intake of breath was answer enough. By now, several crewmen had gathered to overhear the disaster unfolding in Zone Three. Wagers were made at this time that Team Three would wind up providing dinner for the beasts.

“Calm down professor and take a deep breath,” Zorig tried offering comfort as he sat down beside Arkru on the bridge.

“Rezwit,” he called over the professor’s microphone, “are you certain you’re lost or are you merely disoriented? Follow the arm of the fork to its source then head west: straight down the beaten path.”

“He’s not lost,” Alafa cut in disparagingly. “He just hasn’t found an open enough space to put the trap!”

“If he’s not lost,” snorted Remgen, “why isn’t he heading west and getting out of there?”

“Rezwit, Remgen is right. Your being silly. Turn around and come back exactly the way you came,” the chief technician ordered gently. “When you reach the edge of Zone Three, you’ll see the ship again. Search the forest line and find another path which might lead to a clearing. Don’t keep driving down the same trail!”

“That is good advice Zorig,” the professor uttered to the chief technician, “but what if he is lost and can’t find his way out?”

“Then I’ll send crewmen in to get them out,” vowed Falon, a determined look on his face.

Upon hearing this threat, Rezwit began turning the crawler around on the path. A solid featureless jungle surrounded them on both sides. After bumping a tree, crunching over a rotting log and avoiding a mud puddle that might prove problematical for the tracks, Rezwit found himself going in the right direction this time: out. He had decided never to speak to Alafa again after the way she behaved. He longed for those carefree days when he, Rifkin, Vimml, and Grummel romped happy-go-luckily over the deserts and mountains of Raethia, Beskol, and Orm. Irignum had too many trees, too many unfamiliar sounds, and too many creatures that wanted to make them their next meal.

******

By now Rifkin had gently coaxed, after threatening and shaming his teammates, into filling most of the containers with an assortment of lizards, snakes, bugs and those wondrous furry creatures the professor had marvelled at before. Rifkin was quite proud of the multicolored lemur-like creature he and Shizwit had netted in the bush. For the benefit of the commander and professor, he could be heard complimenting his teammates’ zeal now.

Unlike the traps, which took such a long time to prepare, the nets required only one or two collectors to throw them over their quarry. The darts, which the youngsters were not supposed to use, were thrown crudely at netted creatures, who were too dangerous to transport to a container in a conscious state.

During another short rest period, Rifkin began teaching his teammates, including eight year old Yorzl, how to master the stunner. Once again, using her wrist communicator, Shizwit reminded him that the professor had forbidden youngsters to shoot, especially so close to the trees. Rifkin, however, promised on his own communicator to make them all excellent marksmen if they would keep this “under their helmets”.

“Now don’t talk,” he whispered this time as he took out his gun. “The professor might hear. Just do as I gesture. Watch my moves. With the setting on low, they’ll barely hear. They’ll think its more radio static.” “Now, pay attention,” he murmured, holding up his gun.

As Rifkin pointed to the three levels of intensity on the stunner, a pair of juvenile leapers were suddenly separated from their pack and began running inexplicably their way.

Rikfin now showed his teammates how to insert the key into the stunner handle, and without actually firing yet, showed them the two handed “Old One” method of aiming and shooting the gun. Omrik was allowed to fire a few shots at a limb across the meadow, which he did in a lackluster mediocre way. Shizwit, who much more eager to learn, took steady aim, and did much better. When it was Yorzl’s turn, the tired and cranky youngster bristled under Rifkin’s efforts to make him hold the gun correctly and began whimpering aloud.

Though young, small, and inexperienced, the juvenile leapers heard what they thought were potential quarry as they approached the clearing. Furtively, they peeked through the thicket, not sure, after hearing those crackling sounds, whether or not they should proceed. Now, after hearing Yorzl’s whimpering, they were encouraged. Such meek cries could only come from easy prey.

“Team One, Yorzl, sound off!” the professor’s voice blared.

“Yorzl’s all right sir,” Rifkin bristled, taking the gun and putting it back into this belt. “He’s just tired. I think he needs a nap.”

“You take care of him,” the professor instructed, an inexplicable edge to his voice. “Don’t overdo it Rifkin. Just fill your hold, as quickly as you can, and come home.”

“Yes, of course, professor,” Rifkin said, heaving a sigh of relief. That was close, he tapped out on his wrist communicator to Yorzl. Promise me you’ll keep your mouth shut about this.

I promise, Yorzl communicated, sticking out his lip.

But Rifkin was not satisfied with their hoard of specimens. The last time he looked over at the trap, it was empty. It was obvious that their proximity was frightening potential specimens away. Now, he reflected with disgust, they were inside the crawler again, too cowardly to venture very far from the vehicle and lie in wait in the bushes, and they were still in plain sight of the trap.

Shizwit, he tapped the words out on his wrist, we should hide unseen in the bushes, not sit out in the open and frighten potential specimens away. Shizwit looked at his message but said nothing. Omrik and Yorzl refused to even look. At this point, he wanted to talk them into to lying low for awhile, but he could not force them into hiding in the bushes with him without sounding harsh to the bridge. He was growing impatient with them now.