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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 stasis 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 homegrown 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 the feast 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 the mood he actually felt this morning, but was a façade 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 dinner?” 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 stouthearted
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 looked at his bowel of breakfast
mush 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 technician paused to drain his cup.
“Of
course,” Zorig replied in a cheery mood. “Falon promised us 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 students will begin collecting plants, 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. In addition to
the hearty mush of Revekian cereal and berries, Wurbl had prepared sweet cakes,
umgi sausage, and plenty of hot, spiced vragga milk.
Doubt
had begun creeping into the professor’s mind as he studied their childhood
gestures and listened to them chatter while they gobbled down their food. Disaster, though he wouldn’t admit it,
stared him in the face as he scanned the faces of the students scattered around
the room. Most of them had been
pumped up by Rifkin, Rezwit, and Alafa’s enthusiasm, but he could see doubt and
misgivings in the youngsters, Yorzl, Lumnal, and Zeppa’s expressions. Zither was talking to Illiakim, perhaps
giving her a pep talk, while their teammate Vimml sat with Gummel bragging to
his friend about his future exploits in Collection Team Two. They were, all things considered, a
mixed bag of overachievers and more timid souls. Although his students had not failed him on the mission so
far, there was much about this planet they hadn’t learned.... Questions now
stabbed him. What if Zorig was
right? Was he placing too much
trust in his students and taking too much on faith? Could it be that, after the progress he had seen on previous
worlds, he expected too much of them?... Or was he just having the jitters now
that departure was so near? Had he
lost his courage? Where was his
faith? He had taught them
everything he knew. Both the trap
and stunner had great potential.
There was nothing more he could do. He had divided them into solid teams with responsible
leaders (except perhaps Rifkin) and would, along with the commander, monitor
their activities in the forest. If
the least sign of danger occurred he would call them in.
In
spite of his misgivings, 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 hers suit, but all four of Arkru’s technicians were
necessary to help him put his suit on.
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 their helmets were 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, third, and second 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
cautioned the students after 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 half a league
from the ship. Watch your crawler’s
gauges.” “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 his students didn’t play with the guns, as
children often do. It was critical
that they set their traps properly and used their nets and darts well. More than anything else he hoped their
weapons had the effect on Irignum’s creatures he had been expecting. Looking up to Irignum’s sky, he said a
prayer that they were cautious while traveling in their crawlers, remembered
what he taught them about their life support systems and equipment, and used
common sense in the forest today.
From
the bridge, Falon and his staff watched the students depart into the
unknown. From a different monitor,
they also saw the professor plodding finally toward the ramp, his body weighed
down with more than mere gravity, as the crawlers rumbled away. Crowded onto the deck with the commander
were Orix, Remgen, Imwep, Kogin, Abwur, Zorig, and several other members of the
crew. As the teams moved further
away, each one disappearing from view, their contact with the students was
limited to chatter from their headsets—twelve students all talking at once, the
com lights for each student blinking off and on in a maddening din.
“I
hope he knows what he’s doing.” Falon turned to Arkru’s chief technician.
“Listen to them; those are children, mentally ill-equipped for this task. This is an incredible world, filled
with amazing beasts—we all agree on this.
But that is a dangerous place, Zorig, especially for immature
students. For their sake, I’ll be
glad when we put Irignum behind us once and for all!”
Zorig nodded forlornly. The commander’s words mirrored his own thoughts. When the professor arrived on the
bridge, he would put on a ‘happy face,’ but he had a bad feeling this
time. All of his survival
instincts and logic and everything Arkru taught him, told him that the student
collection teams was a bad idea.
******
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 argon—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 were not suppose to tear during use. The systems were, of course, both
airtight and watertight. 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 landline 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 couldn’t 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 perked up
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 would use these particular 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 such wagers, themselves.
They had, he recalled with vexation, all shown great disrespect for his
students last night 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 gallantly 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
isn’t 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 isn’t a desert path on Beskol,
Raethia, 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
to them 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 eyeballing the layout of the trap
and hastily calibrating each pole, Rifkin selected a bush near the beaten path,
as Omrik ran back to the crawler and climbed back inside. Yorzl, in Shizwit’s protective embrace
again, sat beside the vehicle, listening for the rustle of advancing beasts. When their quarry didn’t appear soon and
the jungle seemed to leave them alone, Rifkin ordered his teammates to begin
collecting small animals from the bushes and around the clearing. The shadowy, featureless green
surrounding them didn’t 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. Rifkin warned Omrik that he would tell
everyone he was a coward, but Omrik, unlike Zither, didn’t care. When Rifkin’s insults failed to prod
him over to the bushes, he played upon his teammate’s honor as a representative
of scientific tradition, which made Omrik laugh hysterically at such a thought.
At this point, to the leader’s discomfort, Shizwit
stepped forward for the task. As
Rifkin and his volunteer 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 the rules, 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
supposed to chatter idly or sing songs 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.
“Off
a beaten path, in 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 pump 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 radios 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 Rifkin 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 beast 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 the 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’s too small,” Vimml sounded off for the professor’s benefit. “We
should’ve picked a bigger clearing!”
“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 of the water, and he knew that they were not far from a
river or lake—places, 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.
You’re not romping on Beskol with Rifkin 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!” She 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?” He turned to Rezwit for support. “What if it had
been a leaper? 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’s right. You’re 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 marveled 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. By now, all of Commander Falon’s staff,
including the ship’s medic, Doctor Eglin, had gathered on the bridge. With several excellent samples in the
miniature life support containers, Rifkin—always the showman—took the
opportunity to instruct his team members on the proper use of the equipment
provided for collection.
“Students,”
he called out coolly, “carefully take note of the camouflaged mesh in the
crawler’s hold. Unlike our traps,
which take such a long time to prepare, our nets require only one or two
collectors to throw them over a beast.
Our darts can be thrown at netted creatures too dangerous to transport
to a container in a conscious state.”
“Rifkin,”
Arkru blared into their helmets, “be careful. Don’t let them touch those darts!”
“Why
not?” asked the First Mate.
“Because,”
he huffed, as if out of breath, “we’re not on Beskol or Orm. Rifkin’s teammates aren’t trained.”
“Are
they poisonous?” Falon cut in politely.
“Not
really—” the professor started to explain.
“Surely,”
interrupted Dazl, “they must pack a wallop to bring down one of those beasts.”
“If
that’s so,” Orix took his turn, “this batch might be harmful to the students.
What sort of chemical did you use?
Can it be lethal to children using them for target practice on the
trees?”
“They’re
drugged,” the professor snapped irritably, “just like the others, only more
powerful. That’s the purpose of
darts. My students won’t throw
them needlessly. Only my team
leaders need throw the darts.” “Are you listening Rifkin and Vimml?” he added
as Rifkin stood that very moment fondling one of them in his hand.
“Yes
Doctor Arkru!” Rifkin replied succinctly, dropping it back in its case.
“The
question is, professor,” Eglin sounded alarmed, “are they dangerous?”
“Not
to the beasts,” he tried being calm. “To a small child, like Yorzl, perhaps,
but it’s an anesthetic, not, strictly speaking, a poison.”
Rifkin
listened with amusement as the officers in the bridge broke into heated
discussion about the professor’s unfortunate choice of words.
“Not
strictly speaking?” Second Mate Imwep chortled close by. “That’s a bit
equivocal, isn’t professor? A
powerful sedative, synthesized from the nectar of the dipper plant can, with
the right dose, knock out a sand bug and probably one of those beasts.”
“Well, isn’t that the point?” snorted Remgen. “They
have to be powerful. I see
nothing wrong with that. The
students must be careful, but Rifkin should teach those whelps how to handle
darts.”
“Well, I guess so,” grumbled Falon, “if they’re
careful.”
“After all commander,” Dazl offered thoughtfully,
“you allowed the professor to train them to use the new stunner. What’s worse?”
“All right,” the commander grunted, “I get the
point.”
“Humph,” quipped Imwep. “That’s twice I’ve heard
that phrase,”
“Ho-ho!” Third Mate Kogin laughed in the background
“You get it, Imwep? Point and dart. Remgen and the commander made a pun!”
Though Orix and Eglin muttered dissent, the issue of
darts was dropped on the bridge.
“Now that we settled this,” Arkru’s voice rose
wearily, “students—listen up, you especially Rifkin: the darts are important for
collecting specimens, but they require training. Like the stunners, I’d prefer that the youngsters don’t
touch them at all. They’re
not toys! Remember what I told you
on Orm. Pick them up gingerly,
Rifkin, Rezwit, and Zither, as you would a play darts on Revekia and toss them
carefully at your target; this goes for the other older students when trained
in the proper use, but only if given permission. They should only be used when netting or capturing beasts in
traps.”
Envisioning Rifkin and Vimml using them for target
practice on a nearby tree, Arkru sat there staring into space. Murmurs of approval from the commander
and his officers (but not his chief technician) were followed by dead silence
from the bridge as they listened to the team leader explain, hopefully only to
Shizwit and Omrik, the proper method of tossing darts at beasts. After showing them how to hold a dart
and pretending to toss it at an imaginary target, Rift tossed it back into its
container and demonstrated how to use the net. Members of the bridge sighed with relief. Darts were easy, Rifkin explained to
his teammates—no different than the game of darts. They were just more dangerous, he added for the bridge’s
benefit. Netting, on the other
hand, wasn’t dangerous, but required practice. It was very similar to the netting used by fishermen on
Modrit before the Old Ones came along.
Rifkin had seen how clumsy nets and darts could be. He wouldn’t waste his time on them if
he could rely on their traps and, if need be, blast the beasts. For the benefit of the bridge, though,
he taught his team members the age-old method of net casting on a nearby bush,
quickly gathering it up afterwards and tossing it sloppily into the hold.
During another short rest period, in which he could
hear the voices of other teams in the field but nothing from the bridge, 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 to
themselves.
“Now
don’t talk,” he whispered this time as he took out his gun. “Those folks on the
bridge are really cagey. 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. Rifkin 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
firing 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, a tired 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 back inside the crawler, 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
a while, 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.
Given his gutless team, it seemed as if the prospects of a larger animal
taking a detour into their trap and not spotting them first were bleak. Time was running out.
Suddenly, as he tried rousing his teammates from the
inside of the crawler, the bushes shook and the two juvenile leapers, who had
been stalking them, went on the attack.
The first leaper stumbled immediately into the trap. The other leaper
managed to dodge the force field that had been set in motion and run passed it
to the other side.
Rifkin
was so excited he felt dizzy and had to brace himself against the crawler so he
could regain his breath. The
commotion that followed terrified Omrik and Yorzl, who had been dozing inside
the vehicle when they heard Rifkin’s yell. Shizwit, who was the first to reach the trap, stood there
calmly with a small green snake she had been playing with in her gloves. Rifkin had to do a rough calculation as
to the creature’s body size. All
he could think of as he searched the remaining containers for just the right
one was, It’s about four epsols long. It has to be four epsols long! (The Revekian estimate in
feet). Shizwit dropped the snake
and ran over to the crawler to help.
The young dinosaur had been instantly trapped in the enclosure. The trap had worked again! The next thing that Rifkin had to do
was drug the brute with darts, so they could put it into the container.
Forgetting
his good manners entirely, Rifkin screamed at Omrik and Yorzl as they cowered
in their seats “Get out here—both of you!
We need your help!”
“That’s
a leaper, is it not?” Omrik asked in a quivering voice.
“It’s
only a baby,” Rifkin snapped, motioning for them to come out. “I need your help
Omrik. You too Yorzl. We have to knock this fellow out, drag
him to a container and drop him in.”
“Rifkin,
what’s going on out there?” The professor’s voice broke through again.
“We
bagged us a leaper! “ Rifkin cried. “He’s just small enough to fit into a
container.”
“He’s
green, ugly, and about four epsols long,” Shizwit said jubilantly, slowly
approaching the trap.”
“You
be careful Shizwit,” Arkru’s voice still sounded strained. “Rifkin,” he barked,
“how do you know its a leaper?
Could it be one of those spike-toes we saw from the rock?”
“No,”
Rifkin said with glee, “he’s got the same stripes on his back as the big
ones. Someday on some parallel
world he’s going to be a ruler just like he is here!”
“All
right boy,” the professor replied sternly, “but you pay the most attention to
your teammates. No heroics out
there!”
“Bagged
himself a beast!” Remgen crowed.
The bridge broke into applause. At that very moment, inexplicably
muffled in Zone Three, pandemonium was about to break out. Omrik, Shizwit, Yorzl, and Rifkin stood
there a moment more after Arkru signed off staring at their prize. For a brief moment they were united by
their mutual awe. Nothing in all
their adventures had equaled this moment.
“What’s
the matter with Doctor Arkru?” Omrik whispered to Rifkin as they came close to
the trap.
“Rezwit
was lost earlier,” noted Shizwit. “You think they found their way?”
“I
dunno,” Rifkin answered indifferently, “I’m too busy to pay attention to the
bridge. If something’s wrong, I’m
sure he’ll let us know.”
Reaching
into the case of darts, he pulled out a handful of the missiles, each less than
an epsol in length. Handing Omrik,
Shizwit and Yorzl one of the darts, he advised them in a whisper them to throw
the darts only at the creatures legs, stomach or tail. This was great fun for everyone. After all the concern on the bridge,
the professor would have been shocked if he had seen how careless the missiles
were thrown. Though expressly
forbidden to let youngsters handle darts, Rifkin, who never cared much for
rules, would begin their lessons now.
His own boundless energy had fired their imaginations. Shizwit’s growing enthusiasm, like
Rifkin’s energy, was infectious for Omrik and Yorzl. After tossing all their darts over the force field perimeter
at the beast, the creature began to show visible signs of sluggishness and
began to slow down, until it was lying unconscious inside the trap.
Quickly
now, before it awakened and bit into their life support systems, Rifkin pressed
the controller to disable the trap.
The foursome then dragged the juvenile leaper to the container Rifkin
had picked out, lifted it up and dropped it clumsily inside. Rifkin then shut and fastened the lid
and hooked the container up to the oxygen supply of the crawler. The hum of the
vehicle’s air-conditioner followed as Rifkin flipped on the switch. Everyone shuddered at the thought of
what they had just caught. There
was no question what team had caught the most specimens. Team One had only been in the jungle an
hour or so and had filled their crawler’s hold to the brim.
“What
we do now Rifkin?” Shizwit asked after glancing at her watch. “You were in such
a big hurry we’ve got time to kill.”
“Oh
dear, the professor gave us three hours,” Omrik looked at his own watch,
feigning alarm. “We’ve got two remaining hours and no more room for specimens;
we might as well go back to the ship.”
“Well,”
Rifkin smiled with self-satisfaction, “the professor said he wants juveniles
and hatchlings. We got us only one
juvenile so far, but look how many other animals we’ve found.”
“The
professor won’t believe his eyes when he sees all the furry creatures we
captured,” Shizwit agreed ardently. “This is going to be hard to beat!”
“Rifkin,”
the professor’s voice blurted in once more, “are you seriously saying you’re
containers are full? What was the
infernal hurry boy? Your team must
be exhausted. Why can’t you ever
take things easy?”
“Well,
we could target practice awhile,” Rifkin suggested, motioning for Yorzl to be
silent.
“Humph!…
Are you in a large enough clearing?” the professor asked, after a pause, as if
he had just went into conference with Falon and Zorig about something on the
bridge.
“All right.
They’d better be careful!” the commander growled.
Also heard in on the airwaves were yells and whoops
from members of Team Three. “Ah
that’s good news,” Arkru suddenly cried. “We can hear them now. Rezwit’s team is
finding
its way out of Zone Three!”
“What’s
he talking about?” Rifkin muttered to himself. “Shizwit’s right…. Rezwit got them lost; now he’s finding
his way back—ho-ho, probably without specimens…. And I haven’t heard from
Zither for awhile…” “We gottem all
beat,” he whispered excitedly to Shizwit, “and we got two hours to kill!”
“Kill? There’s that word again. No, please, I don’t like that idea,”
Omrik sputtered, shaking his head, “let’s not push our luck!… I-I think we
should go back to the ship. I
don’t want to practice shooting the gun!”
“Don’t
worry Omrik,” Rifkin reassured him, handing him the stunner, “we won’t let
anything eat you up. We’ve got to
get you and Shizwit qualified to use the gun.”
“Can
I shoot it first?” Yorzl whispered faintly.
“No,”
Rifkin murmured, shaking his head, “you went cosmic on me. Next time you might shoot off someone’s
head.”
“I’ll
tell the professor you let me shoot the gun,” Yorzl threatened in a petulant
whisper. “Shizwit doesn’t like you, and she’ll back me up!”
It
struck Rifkin as humorous that Yorzl was threatening to tell the professor
about the very thing he wanted Rifkin to do for him now: teach him to fire the
stunner. Holding his finger up to
his helmet in a shushing motion he took the gun away from Omrik and handed it
to Yorzl. Everyone backed away as
the youngster held it in his small glove expertly this time and aimed at the
target limb. A trio of spike-toes
appeared suddenly on the scene, as if on cue, hissing and dancing around as if
they had just found new prey.
“Great
Father of the Universe!” Omrik shrieked.
Yorzl
opened fire on the three, and though he missed by a wide mark, the crackle of
the gun appeared to frighten the trio away. Yorzl was so excited he whooped with joy. Fortunately for Rifkin, the professor
was occupied in an argument with Falon over what was going wrong today. A
constant barrage of comments, expletives and exhortations, in fact, streamed
from the bridge. But Rifkin
managed to tune this “static” out.
He was impressed with the effect Yorzl had on the spike-toes, although
it did not prove that the gun could do real damage to a large or dangerous
beast. He had kept the gun on low
frequency while Yorzl fired.
Experimentally, he would set the frequency a notch higher for Omrik or
Shizwit, a fact he did not share with the others, a wonderful feeling of
invincibility filling his head.
“All
right Yorzl,” he murmured close to the youngster’s helmet, “you got your
chance. Let’s give Omrik and
Shizwit some more practice so they can be certified to shoot the stunner. Next time we go collecting, we’ll have
three guns!”
“I
want one too,” Yorzl whimpered, his head dropping to his chest.
******
While
Team One practiced shooting the stunner at various limbs, scattering untold
numbers of creatures from their nests, Zither’s team continued to play by the
rules. Zither had promised Vimml
and Illiakim that he would give them a practice session so they could become
certified too. But they would have
to find a long meadow to avoid killing alien species in the background during
the firing session, an opportunity that seemed bleak in Zone Two. Because of the apparent lake or river
not faraway, the jungle was particularly dense in the northern part of the
forest. They were lucky, Zither
informed them, to find even a small clearing here. Vimml began to complain ceaselessly, his true character
showing when he didn’t get his way.
For
the time being, Zither was having trouble just filling his quota of specimens
to bring back to the ship. It was
his goal to fill the hold as much as he could before heading back, but unlike
Rifkin he had no delusions of grandeur.
So far, due to what Vimml felt was his own hesitant approach to
collecting, they had filled only one container with a small large-eyed furry
creature and the plant stuff that would be used for its nest. Not only did Vimml complain about how
empty their hold was, but he felt that they could at least get some target
practice on the way. He suggested
this in whispers, so Arkru wouldn’t overhear. It didn’t help relations between them when Zither reminded
him aloud—for the professor’s benefit—that Doctor Arkru had forbidden them to
shoot against the trees. Vimml,
like Rifkin and Rezwit, followed the rules only when the professor was
watching.
“Out
of sight, out of mind,” he whispered heatedly now, “we could sneak a few
potshots here and there. Who will be the wiser?
“I will be the wiser,” Zither informed
him, loud enough again for the professor to hear.
“Zither,
what’s Vimml up to?” Zorig asked this time.
“He
wants to play with the stunner,” Illiakim tattled, sticking out her tongue.
“You
bitch! You stupid dakka!” Vimml cried,
throwing a handful of moss at her helmet.
“Zither,
are you losing control out there?” the professor’s voice broke in again.
“No
sir,” Zither bristled, “I thought it was going along quite well.”
Suddenly,
one more of the professor’s fears, became apparent as he sat stewing at the
bridge. After checking in with
Team One, he was left with the unsettling feeling that Rifkin was up to his old
tricks again. Rezwit, whom he had
trusted the most, had managed to get lost and, though it seemed most likely he
would take them safely out of the forest, it appeared it would be
empty-handed. It had been poor
judgment to place Alafa on his team.
Now Zither was showing signs of poor leadership. There was indecisiveness and reluctance
in his voice. He should never have
put Vimml on his team!
Rising
up suddenly and taking Zorig aside so that Falon, Orix, and the others wouldn’t
overhear, the professor was beside himself with worry.
“You
see what’s happening?” he confided to Zorig. “Rezwit, who’s been quarreling
constantly with Alafa as I feared, managed to get lost. Rifkin, who’s in competition with
Zither, is running amuck. Now
Zither, my most responsible student, is being driven crazy by that quarrelsome
little child!”
“Personally
sir,” Zorig spoke frankly, “I think you should keep Rifkin and Vimml
permanently on the ship. Rezwit
would have been all right if we hadn’t put Alafa on his team.”
“When
they get back, I’m going to switch them all around,” Arkru vowed querulously.
“I’ll put all the rascals in one team so I can keep tabs on them. I’ll keep the ones who behave
themselves on one team, and make those blasted children stay on the ship!”
“That’s
very good professor,” Zorig drawled with a shrug, “I just hope it’s not too
late!”
“What
do you mean too late?” Arkru, who was
shuffling forlornly back to the bridge, pivoted abruptly now.
“I
mean sir that this morning’s expeditions are a long way from being over,” the
technician explained more gently. “Unless you order them to return soon,
there’s no telling what our students might do!”
Orix
gave the commander a wry smile.
Shaking his head, Falon sat there listening to the navigator and Eglin’s
concerns, as the other officers sat listening to Zone One, Two, and Three. After a brief lull, there was more commotion
over the airways. Falon motioned
excitedly for Arkru to listen in.
The professor and Zorig could hear Alafa berating Rezwit as he fled the
forest. This caused a sigh of
relief from the professor and his chief technician. Judging by the activity in Zone One, Rifkin, Team One’s
leader, was flagrantly defying his orders and allowing his team to target
practice in the forest. The
crackling noise, which Rifkin hoped wouldn’t be noticed, was unmistakable. This produced several I-told-you-so
looks from the officers on the bridge, as Arkru and Zorig exchanged troubled
expressions, and yet the professor could detect a feeling of camaraderie in
Team One—the only team, in fact, that was making progress and showing the
proper spirit.
For
a few moments, the professor tried overlooking that distinct crackle of
stunners from Zone One, hoping that Rifkin had the good sense to fire in a long
clearing and wasn’t allowing Yorzl to shoot the gun. Though the most unsettling incident developing this morning
had been Team Three getting lost, it also appeared as if Rezwit was
backtracking as Zorig had suggested.
Then a sudden argument in Zone Two between Zither and Vimml alarmed
everyone listening in.
“Give
me back my stunner!” Zither shouted at Vimml now.
“No,
you stingy bastard,” cried Vimml, “I need practice! It’s not fair that you’re the only one certified to use the
gun!”
“Vimml,
you little moron,” Arkru screamed from the bridge, “hand it over to your team
leader at once. I want you all to
head back to ship now!”
“This
is not fair!” Vimml wailed. “I’m better than stupid old Zither. He’s too much of a dakka to lead a
collection team!”
“Vimml,
you give Zither back his stunner,” Falon tried his hand. “So help me, I’ll have
you thrown in the brig permanently if you don’t obey!”
Suddenly
there was the unmistakable crackling of a stunner in Zone Two. Everyone,
including the ship’s officers, groaned loudly after hearing this sound.
“Bridge
this is Rifkin,” Team Leader One bellowed, “what’s happening to Zither’s team?”
“We’re
heading back to the ship now,” Rezwit’s voice was also heard. “…. What’s wrong
in Zone Two?”
******
Vimml
had just opened fire on a spike-toe that leaped out of a bush. The creature fled immediately. Zither didn’t know whether to thank
Vimml now or throttle his helmet with the butt of his gun. Not knowing what had happened in this
sector, the commander, his officers, the professor, and Zorig remained silent
on the bridge. Zither was
smoldering with pent-up rage. Vimml had shown his true character again. Without saying a word, he grabbed the
gun out of Vimml’s trembling hand.
Illiakim began pounding Vimml angrily with her fists and Zeppa wept softly
to herself. For the first time in
over an hour there was silence on Zones One, Two and Three.
A
familiar trumpeting and chirping was heard faintly by Team Two: the sound of
spike-toes attacking nearby prey.
Then the second light began flashing once more as voices sounded in Zone
Two.
“What
in Cosmic Creation is that?” Zither asked, holding his stunner shakily in his
hand.
As
if nothing at all had happened, Vimml prodded him excitedly. “What are you
waiting for Zither? Let’s go find
out what it is. Come on, it’s not
far. I bet it’s one of those
horny-headed things we saw from the rock.
“M-m-maybe
it’s a leaper!” Zeppa began to cry.
It
was at this point in Zone One that Shizwit had taken another turn, herself, in
firing the stunner. Since Rifkin
had, when she wasn’t looking, playfully raised the setting to the third and
highest frequency, she blew a small limb completely off a tree. Arkru was greatly relieved that Rezwit
had turned the crawler around and that Vimml had not shot Zither dead. The loud crackle in Zone One, he
decided, must be radio static; he could not believe Rifkin would place the
frequency on “kill frequency” for target practice. Even Rifkin had his limits, the professor wanted to believe.
As
Arkru, Falon, Orix, and Remgen shouted advice to Team Two, Zither managed to
ignore them entirely and allow the megalomaniac young Vimml to lead the
way. In truth, the creature they
discovered was much better than a leaper or three-horn. There, close to a body of water, a
place the professor had told them to avoid, sat what would someday be called an
alamosaurus, one of the last giant sauropods to walk the earth. But this long-neck was just a baby, and
what’s more there were three spike-toes trying to make it their next meal.
“Go
ahead, shoot those monsters before they kill him!” Vimml screamed.
Without
hesitation this time, Zither set the frequency on three and let the trio have
it full force. Once again, the
familiar crackling sound and the strange smell seemed to be enough to frighten
away the predators. The anger that
Zither felt toward Vimml was mentally shelved as the foursome followed the
professor’s instructions on handling juveniles and began the difficult but
splendid task of netting the baby long-neck, then, while it thrashed inside the
net, stuck several dozen darts into its thick hide.
After
comparing Team Two’s stunner fire with the same crackling he heard in Zone One,
the professor slowly reached the conclusion that someone in Team One had fired
their stunner on the kill frequency too.
“He’s
so cute,” Zeppa clapped her hands.
“I
hope he’s not dead.” Illiakim looked with concern at the unconscious beast.
Immediately
after Zither called in to report their discovery, the airways were filled with
great excitement. The student
collectors heard several voices at once, including Zither, Vimml, and the
professor. Shizwit, who had just
finished blasting the limb right off the tree, stood there marveling at her
deed, as the professor was heard congratulating Team Two on their catch. It had not occurred to anyone, except
the professor, how similar were the recent crackling sounds in Zone One and
Zone Two. Shizwit, who examined
the setting on the stunner, knew exactly what it meant. Unconcerned with this event, a suddenly
troubled Rifkin took the gun out of Shizwit’s trembling hand, more concerned
with what he had just heard on his radio.
“You
had it set on the kill frequency,” she growled accusingly. “Are you insane?”
“Wh-What
is he talking about?” Rifkin sputtered. “I got the most specimens, not
him. I filled the entire hold!”
“No,”
Shizwit frowned at him, “we got the
most specimens. Didn’t they just
say Team Two—not Zither—caught a long-neck!” “It’s called team work,” she
wagged her finger at him. “Stop trying to show off!”
“Impossible,”
Rifkin mumbled to himself. “…. Even juvenile long-necks are too big to be
caught.”
“This
long-neck will require a larger container,” Zither was heard explaining to the
professor. “It might even be too large to fit into the hold.”
“Listen
Zither, you can combine two large containers into an even larger one,” the
professor explained patiently.
“Can you Vimml, Illiakim, and Zeppa lug that beast into such a container
without a winch? Don’t forget that
the crawler has such a device.”
“Yes,
I think so,” Zither sounded quite beside himself with both excitement and fear.
Arkru
tone’s had changed greatly since he had heard that Rezwit’s team was safe. Now, after hearing that Team Two had
caught a long-neck, it was downright buoyant.
“Good
luck lad,” his voice dripped with pride. “I can’t wait to see this fellow. That’s a real prize!”
“Oh,
this makes me sick!” spat Rifkin, looking around wildly at his group.
Team
One watched fearfully as Rifkin, their illustrious leader, lost control. All Rifkin could think of was that
Zither, leader of Team Two, had found a long-neck. After all his effort today, he would get the most credit,
not him. He was so angry about
this turn of events, he raised up his gun, took aim and blasted off another
limb.
“We’re
going to bag us something better than that stupid long-neck!” he vowed racing
back to the crawler, the stunner waving in his hand.
“It’s
true, isn’t it?” Omrik asked Shizwit as they climbed into their seats. “You
told me he was crazy, and he is—he really
is!”
“Yes,
it’s true,” replied Shizwit, as crawler one bolted up the path.
******
As he paused in his retreat to allow a herd of
long-legged and long-necked samgar-like creatures pass, Rezwit listened to the
most venomous criticism from Alafa.
Not only was she calling him incompetent, but she was attacking him for
being a coward, since he had passed up an opportunity to stop and chase a
creature into the trees. Rezwit
was brave, but he wasn’t a fool: there was no clearing in that direction. The professor had forbidden them to
chase specimens into the forest.
When the combative Alafa deliberately attacked him over the airways so
everyone would overhear, however, the sting was overwhelming. He realized she wasn’t merely being a
nag; she was attempting to make him look bad to the professor and his
peers. Alafa wanted to be leader
of Team Number Three!
“You
bitch!” He swore under his breath. “You think I’m a coward, huh? I’ll show you who’s a coward! I’ll show you all! Hold on to your helmet Alafa, we’re going to bag us a beast!”
Up
ahead he saw a large duckbill crossing the beaten path. Judging by the way the creature stopped
suddenly and settled in the trees, it seemed to Rezwit that she might be
nesting. What greater prize could
he give the professor than a scoop-mouth nest with all her eggs?
“Are
you crazy?” Lumnal cried out.
Grummel,
who had always acted slightly mad, was giggling hysterically. Alafa, trapped by her own challenge,
stared straight ahead in terror at what lie ahead.
“Rezwit,
what are you doing?” the professor could be heard screaming from the bridge. “I
told you to get out of there. Stay
on the path!”
“Doctor
Arkru,” Rezwit explained, pulling into a wide spot on the path. “I’ve found a
mother scoop-mouth sitting on her nest.
I think we can scare her away long enough to steal her nest.”
“No,
absolutely not! I know what’s
going on in Zone Three,” Arkru shouted. “I heard you and Alafa quarreling. Alafa, you stop competing with your
leader. Rezwit, you have nothing
to prove! Team Three get out of
that neck of the woods now!”
But
Rezwit had already disembarked with his stunner in his hand. Alafa followed, carrying her own gun,
its frequency set to kill. Grummel
was leaping around excitedly swinging a branch he had found, while young Lumnal
sat cowering in his seat. In the
most reckless fashion now, Rezwit and Alafa ran toward the nesting mother. Seeing the lurking shadow in the
bushes, they began firing their stunners, certain they were going to bag
themselves a nest, if not a beast.
Arising finally to her feet as the crackling reached a peak and the
smell of ozone filled the air, the duckbill scooped up the hatchlings in her
great mouth and moved quickly through the forest, annoyed more than anything
else by the commotion on the other side of the trees. It had been a childish and futile act—not at all what Doctor
Arkru’s had in mind. As soon as
the shadow was gone, the three aliens ran into the trees and looked down
through a patch of bushes at an empty nest.
“Rezwit! Alafa! Grummel!
Lumnal! What’s going on?”
the professor bellowed.
It
seemed obvious to Rezwit what had occurred. They had seen this happen from their viewing screens when
Kogin, the helmsmen, began landing the ark. At that time, the mother duckbill had taken advantage of the
leaper’s indecision to rescue her young.
On this occasion, as in that first glimpse of Irignian life forms, the
hatchlings were held safely in their mother’s mouth. She would either take them to a new nest or return to this
one when they were gone. After receiving a double dose of “kill” frequency
electrons, she had gathered her young in her mouth and departed unscathed.
Rezwit
and Alafa felt very stupid right now.
“They’re
gone!” Rezwit spoke numbly into his helmet.
“What
do you mean they’re gone?” Alafa
stared at the nest.
“I
mean, you dakka-brain, they’re not there!” Rezwit snapped, turning and looking
back at the crawler where Lumnal sat.
Lumnal
had not moved an inch from his seat.
Now that they found themselves in the depths of the jungle, the rustling
sound of potential predators and a strange chirping noise alerted the aliens to
danger nearby.
“Run!”
Rezwit cried.
“Oh,
Izmir save them!” Urlum began praying from the bridge.
“I
tried to warn you about this,” Falon’s said coolly as a look of horror froze on
Arkru’s face.
After
Falon, Orix, Remgen, and Dazl’s calm exchange of cynicism over the carelessness
of this enterprise, a verbal tumult followed as Arkru, Zorig, Ibris, Tobit, and
Urlum grew hysterical on the bridge.
In the most clear-headed thinking in his young life, however, Rezwit
blanked out everything but the beating of his own alien heart. The shrewish condemnation continuing
over the radio by Alafa behind him and the hysterical shrieking of Grummel in
front became a blur in his mind as he made his way into the crawler, took
command of the steering wheel, and began frantically maneuvering the vehicle
back onto the path. By now the
spike-toes were upon them. Alafa
and Grummel, who had once again taken Rezwit’s gun out of his belt, both opened
fire on the pack as their snapping and drooling jaws came closer and closer to
the crawler and the occupants inside.
Lumnal
remained frozen inside his life support system. Jumping out one-by-one in what seemed to the youngster as a
peek-a-boo game, the spike-toes seemed to sense the hopelessness of their
situation. In the first place, the
vehicle was parked in a patch of muddy ground that would require careful
maneuvering to break free onto the path.
The spike-toes had the entire jungle as a playground to taunt and harass
them now. In the second place, it
was demonstrated to Rezwit and Alafa that the stunners were incapable of
incapacitating large beasts. Team
Three hoped and prayed that their weapons might have a greater effect on the
much smaller spike-toes than it had on the duckbill, who seemed totally
unphased by the blasts.
Ducking
down between the front and back seats to avoid being torn by their jaws, Lumnal
wept uncontrollably, his efforts at being “one of the big kids” wiped away in
childish terror as Alafa and Grummel fired over his head.
In
spite of the continual crackling, Rezwit realized that their stunners had no
lasting effect on the beasts.
Grummel and Alafa’s efforts were just enough to keep the spike-toes’
jaws a few yards away from the crawler, and yet the creatures were coming
closer and closer as if they were growing used to the blasts. Obviously, the charges were making
contact with their bodies, but, unlike the small flyer shot down by Zither,
they were only momentarily stunned by the shock. The students would fire and the beasts would back away. This exchange continued as the
predators gradually gained ground and the vehicle appeared to be mired in an
unseen patch of mud. At that
point, the first dual between aliens and earthlings commenced: electron bombardment
versus brute persistence.
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!”
Alafa, Grummel, and Lumnal screamed into their helmets, their shrieks rising in
volume as the spike-toes approached.
To those listening in at this point it was an awful sound. Silence descended over the bridge.
“Izmir
is great. Izmir is wise. Great is the mercy of Izmir,” Rezwit
chanted, barely audible to anyone as his teammates continued to scream.
The
same prayer was uttered by everyone on the bridge, but the other collecting
teams had problems of their own.
Fortunately for him, the professor did not know Rifkin’s harebrained
decision to trek further into the jungle and had not yet fully grasped the
futility of Zither’s attempts at capturing the long-neck by the lake.
Suddenly,
when it appeared as if Team Three would be chewed to pieces by the pack, Rezwit
was able to break free of the cul-de-sac and roar back onto the path. A sickening event occurred that very
moment as the smallest of the spike-toes made the mistake of running in front
of the crawler. The tracks of the
enormous vehicle crunched the dim-witted fellow almost flat into the ground as
Team Three began speeding back down the trail. It was a testament to the weight and power of the
crawler. At the same time that it
pulverized the smaller spike-toe, it knocked two other advancing predators out
of the way as Alafa and Grummel blasted the remaining predators with their
guns. For several moments as
Rezwit drove toward the light at the end of the shadowy jungle path, the pack
pursued the slow moving vehicle, nipping at the back of it as if it was a
living thing, intermittently falling back then regaining momentum as electrons
bounced off their hides, until finally, as mysteriously as they first appeared,
the spike-toes vanished like phantoms into trees.
Team Three now emerged in the meadow. They could see the ship sitting
majestically on the meadow, in earth terminology about a mile or away.
“We’re all right. We’re out of the woods,” Rezwit informed the bridge.
Several well-wishers on the bridge cheered.
“Good going lad,” uttered the professor in a weary
voice.
Overwhelming relief was counterbalanced by the feeling of
utter defeat; it appeared as if they would return empty-handed. Peer group shame was almost as dreadful
as spike-toes for Rezwit now. He
looked back at Alafa, who was still holding her stunner. A look of horror had replaced the snarling
expression on her face. Grummel
was offering thanks to Izmir, his gloves held palms-up in prayer. Lumnal was still cowering on the floor.
Without taking a vote, Rezwit made a fateful decision: they were going back
into the trees.
“What
are you doing?” Lumnal shouted in disbelief. “We’re free! We’re alive! Let’s go back to the ship!”
“We’re
also empty-handed,” Rezwit replied calmly, stomping his accelerator to the
floor. “The professor said we should choose a different trail.”
“Wait
a minute Rifkin,” Alafa cried accusingly, “that was Zorig who said that. I heard what the professor said. He told you to get out of here, not go back in!”
“But
I know what the professor wants,” Rezwit clung stubbornly to the wheel.
His
eyes darting madly in his head, Grummel asked, “Rezwit, can I still shoot your
gun?… Come on, I did all right against the spike-toes, didn’t I?… Lemme shoot
the gun!”
Pandemonium
once more broke out on the bridge.
It was difficult to tell who was speaking this time: “Rezwit! Rezwit! Come back, Rezwit!
Don’t go back into the forest!
Those spike-toes are still stalking you! Rezwit, don’t let Grummel have your gun! Rezwit, what’re you trying to prove?”
Rezwit
had driven only a short distance into the meadow when he spotted a strange
apparition skirting the forest. It
was one of those squat, close-to-the-ground, armored creatures that had a club
on its tail. From a distance, it
looked like a juvenile, but he knew that it would take all of their existing
containers to squeeze it into their hold.
“Alafa,
Lumnal calm down,” he shouted, turning his wheel, “I just saw one of those
armored fellows we saw yesterday near the rock. He looks like a juvenile. If we follow the professor’s instructions for Zither’s
long-neck, we might be able to bring him back to the ship.”
“I
know what that is!” They heard the professor exclaim with relief. “Be careful
students, its got a nasty club on its tail!”
******
Rifkin,
who had decided that he was going to find something bigger and better than
Zither’s long-neck, was barely conscious of the voices in his helmet. Knowing that their leader was out of
control, his team sat in fearful and angry silence as he careened down the
jungle trail. “What else can we do?” Shizwit murmured to the horror-stricken
Omrik and Yorzl. “Jump out and walk back to the ship?”
Rifkin’s
team was a captive audience now.
Despite the rules for radio protocol, which he kept breaking, he began
singing loudly again in order to blot out Shizwit’s attempt to report him to
the bridge. In his megalomaniac
frame of mind, as the hero of Raethia, Beskol and Orm, he resented his
teammates attitudes. They were, he
told himself petulantly, lucky to have him as a leader. He was surrounded by ingrates,
especially Shizwit, in spite of the fact she had helped him the most
today. Of all the students aboard
ship, he resented her the most now.
She was, he realized now, in the midst of some kind of—what was the
word?… metamorphoses. Why did the
professor give her the silly title Keeper of the Keys? It had gone to her empty head. Now she was trying to inform on him,
but he wouldn’t let her. For the
hero of Beskol, Raethia and Orm, the rules of radio etiquette didn’t
apply. He would let the bridge
hear more stanzas from his favorite ballad to let them know that all was well
in Zone One and Rifkin’s team.
The
Old Ones sit in dark, damp caves,
their
lives a frightful bore.
As
penitents, they must behave,
banished
forever more.
On distant Lorg they while away;
such
exile have they earned.
Yet
during the Age of Discovery,
the
Old Ones spirit still burns.
Over the airwaves, the student collectors could hear
Rifkin’s boisterous verses but also the professor shouting encouragement to
Rezwit’s team. In spite of getting
lost, Team Three had, as Zither’s team, evidently done something
remarkable. This cheered the
team-spirited Zither but made Rifkin that much more envious now. Rifkin continued singing until he was
quite hoarse. Most of the
students, including Shizwit, wished they could turn down the volume of their
headsets until his caterwauling ceased.
Thanks to the professor’s revision of their radios, however, this was
quite impossible. Rifkin
was acting utterly foolish as he attempted to outdo Zither’s feat. As his comrade Rezwit had done, he was
breaking one of the professor’s cardinal rules. He was driving down the beaten path more deeply than the
three-mile limit from the ship.
The difference was, of course, he was doing it on purpose.
“There’s
gotta be a lake, stream, or river,” he mumbled feverishly to himself. “That’s
where Zither found his long-neck.”
“When
will you learn?” Shizwit asked him calmly now. “This isn’t a game. We’re a team. Zither is a team player; you must learn to be one too.”
As
Rifkin drove recklessly and aimlessly into the jungle, they could hear the
professor’s excited voice over the radio.
“How
big would you say he is?” His voice was hoarse from shouting.
“Ten
epsols from head to tail, maybe more.
He’s pretty large,” Zither said, puffing and panting as he, Vimml, and
Illiakim tried unsuccessfully to budge it from the net.
The
professor was silent a moment, as he thought of a plan. “…. Zither,” he said,
exhaling deeply, “the beast might be too big for even two or three
containers. You might have to drop
off what you have at the ship and then return!”
“Return?”
Vimml gave a wounded cry. “Never!
We found this beast. It
might not be here when we return!”
“We
can do it Doctor Arkru,” Zither promised the professor, after a long
disconsolate sigh.
“Did
you hear that?” Rifkin murmured, his eyes popping wide, as he drew the crawler to
a stop. “The long-neck’s too big.
Why don’t they just dump everything else out, join all the containers
together, and pull it into the hold with the winch? If need be, we can join two crawlers together to bag
something like that!”
“Does
this mean we’re going back to the ship?” Yorzl asked, peeking over the back of
Omrik’s seat.
“Well?”
Shizwit tapped him on the shoulder. “What do you have in mind Rifkin?”
In
what struck his teammates as a positive move, Rifkin backed into small
clearing, turned the steering wheel one hundred and eighty degrees, and began
driving back down the beaten path.
Since
Zone One was on the other side of the meadow, Rifkin would pass the ship as he
headed to Zone Two. He had no
intentions of letting Zither haul the long-neck in himself. He would, whether they liked it or not,
offer his help. In the end
everyone needed Rifkin’s help.
Zither would have to wait until help arrived or give up and go back to
the ship. Rifkin knew he could get
back in time to dump his load into the ship’s hold and then return with more
containers to join together for the task.
The question was, could he convince the professor of his good
intentions. Could he talk his
teammates into going with him again?
His head swam with seemingly unlimited possibilities, but the one that
sounded the best right now was one he could do alone.
“Permission
to return with specimens,” he called out in a most professional tone.
“Really?”
Omrik cried, jumping up and down excitedly in his seat.
“Izmir
be praised!” Shizwit sighed, giving the happy Yorzl a hug.
“Permission
granted.” Doctor Arkru acknowledged with surprise. “….Well done!” he added
hesitantly, for Rifkin had much to answer for when he returned to the ship.