DS02 Night of the Dragonstar (2 page)

The shadow descended.

What happened next was such a shock it all seemed a blur to Mikaela. The creature’s long neck extended over the OTV, and its hideous mouth closed over Lieutenant Hagermann’s arms. The creature’s impact with the OTV slewed the car off the road; Hagermann was plucked from his seat, screaming.

The Omni Terrain Vehicle rocked, teetered as though it was about to fall over on one side, then steadied and stalled.

Mikaela Lindstrom fired a round into the Iguanodon’s side. The creature had Hagermann in its jaws, worrying him like a dog with a bone. Showers of blood flew everywhere. Hagermann stopped screaming; his headless, armless torso fell from the Iguanodon’s mouth as the beast chomped its gory meal into paste.

“Jesus!” Lorkner cried. “Jesus!” The man had pulled up his own rifle and began pumping explosive bullets into the creature’s head with sharpshooter’s accuracy. An evil red eye exploded, and the Iguanodon wailed with pain.

By now Dr. Penovich had recovered and was firing his own gun at the beast. “Shoot for the head!” Mikaela cried. “The head, Doctor!”

She reloaded the extra shells in the pocket of her jacket and resumed firing.

The pain-maddened Iguanodon, its body riddled with wounds, covered with blood, turned to charge its attackers-and another of Lorkner’s rounds caught its remaining eye. Blinded, it stumbled about, screaming madly, while the trio of shooters placed another volley of bullets in its body.

Trembling spastically, it staggered, then fell. It trembled on the ground, its blind eyes staring into death, its jaws, unnaturally swollen with teeth, still snapping.

The survivors of the incredible and unprecedented attack could only stare numbly at the carnage. Then Dr. Penovich was sick over the side of the OTV.

“I’ll take full responsibility, Lieutenant Lorkner,” Mikaela said, every ounce of her strength placed in staying calm, even though she felt like following Penovich’s unprofessional lead.

“We’ll have to bring his body back,” Lorkner said in a monotone.

“Yes. One of the larger sample bags, in the storage trunk. We can’t leave him out here. Scavengers everywhere.” Suddenly she seemed above it all, as though she was looking down quite calmly at the proceedings. “Dr. Penovich, are you all right?”

Sweat streamed down the middle-aged man’s face. “Yes. Yes, I think so.”

“I’ll need your camera. We must make this fast. Predators will be here any moment.” She took the Leica even as Lieutenant Lorkner, realizing the situation, jumped out and saw about the grisly task of retrieving what was left of Hagermann. “I’d like to take a sample, but there’s no time.”

Lorkner did his job quickly, while Lindstrom raced around the dead though still twitching thing, snapping the pictures she needed of the deformities.

“There’s something coming!” Penovich cried.

With surprising calm, Mikaela helped Lorkner dump the bagged body into the back of the OTV, then jumped into the back seat, arms smeared with blood. Lorkner was right behind her. He jumped behind the wheel, started the engine, and sped the car away.

Several creatures broke from the clearing, running toward the fallen Iguanodon to get their share of the easily obtained feast.

Lorkner closed the bubble top this time, even though they were in no apparent danger. “Who knows?” he said in a whisper. “That thing’s brother may be lurking around.” He couldn’t contain a shudder as he looked down at his arms, smeared with Hagermann’s blood.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before, Dr. Penovich,” Mikaela said after taking a deep breath.

Dr. Penovich simply stared ahead in kind of a numb trance, clearly not hearing his colleague.

“Something is wrong,” Mikaela said, the tears beginning to come. “Something is dreadfully wrong here.”

2028 A.D. — Washington, D.C.

The Washington Sheraton Hotel on Connecticut and Woodley Northwest was the unofficial site of most official IASA conference functions and social affairs interfacing with the U.S. government. It was the natural choice for Colonel Phineas Kemp’s press conference, two months after the ‘Dragonstar War’, as it had come to be known by the media.

Phineas Kemp was by nature a man who preferred getting around under his own steam; but because of the peculiar situation, and the attention he was getting, his IASA superiors had insisted that he arrive in a limousine, along with an armed guard.

“What we’ve got here, Phineas, is an ostentatious affair, so you’ve got to forget about your Volkswagen,” General Mitchell Hopper had told him tersely. “Besides, with the amount of publicity this business has been getting, there’s no telling what crazed antievolutionist is out there, ready to shoot you for the Devil.”

“I just want the announcement to be heard by everyone, and I want to make the press conference as short as possible,” Kemp had said. “I’m going to leave it to my documentary to straighten out the whole picture. In the end, the show will be what people and posterity will remember, not all of this nonsensical hype that’s been going on.”

“You can’t expect people to find out that an alien artifact is floating around in the solar system, that it may be the factory for life as we know it on this planet, and not be curious,” Colonel Waterford said in his soft but clear voice. “We’ve been feeding them only the barest facts and a few pictures, and look at all the furor that’s been caused. I for one wish we could dispense with the whole story right now.”

“Don’t you understand, Colonel?” Kemp’s gray eyes blazed above his no-nonsense features. “This isn’t something that people are going to accept with just a story and some pictures. This may well change the course of human history. If the people of the world are not properly informed, God knows what they’re going to make of it.”

“And you’re going to be the one to tell them, eh Phineas?” A dim smile played over Waterford’s bland features. “Center stage.”

“That’s my duty as I see it,” Phineas replied curtly. “I was there. I have the command and the authority and the sources. This is what the board has decided. The project has been underway for the past month, and now that we have set a date, we can announce it and perhaps dispel some of the controversy.”

Waterford shook his head. “Haven’t changed a bit since you were last Earthside, have you, Phin?”

Damn the man! thought Phineas Kemp as the sleek, chauffeur-driven car eased up the horseshoe driveway to the front entrance of the Sheraton. Gus Waterford had always been a pain in the butt with his laconic attitudes, ever since Phineas had known him at the Academy. How he had achieved his high rank, Kemp could never understand. Perhaps the service figured they needed a token cynic to anchor their attitudes. If Phineas Kemp was the IASA’s head in the stars, then Gus Waterford was the ass planted firmly on solid ground.

“What’s going on up there?” Kemp said, suddenly realizing that there was a crowd of people by the entrance, all waving their arms excitedly as the black limo approached.

“No harm, sir,” said a spit-and-polish corporal named Garcia, seated by him. “Just the Saurie Friends. At any rate, we’ve stationed the proper security, and there won’t be any crazy crowds at the conference.”

The car stopped. Only the armed guards prevented the large, frantic crowd from happily charging.

“That’s nice to know,” Kemp said with distaste as he warily eyed the motley crowd. “Saurie Friends, huh? Just who are they?”

Corporal Martin, up front, chuckled. “You must have been on the Moon, sir,” he said, and they all laughed at the joke. “No, sir. The people of the U.S. have taken the news of the existence of another group of intelligent beings in an ... interesting way. But look for yourself.”

The people hailing his arrival wore T-shirts, buttons, and hats, all emblazoned with images of the Saurians, the intelligent dinosaurs Ian Coopersmith and Becky Thalberg had encountered behind that amazing wall at one end of Artifact One.

“Incredible,” Kemp said. “I’ve been out of touch.”

“Yes, sir,” Garcia said. “There are Saurie toys, Saurie bubble gum
—
the IASA really should have put a franchise on the little guys
—
we could have financed our whole project for a year with the income. They’ve already got TV shows and movies in the works. The Saurie Friends are a group formed to welcome the critters to Earth, should they ever come.”

Kemp grunted. “Well, let’s get down to business.”

The chauffeur opened the doors. Kemp put on his best media smile, with just the right amount of the boyish American charm that the country had come to expect from their astronauts, and made his way quickly through the path that parted the crowd.

“Tell the Sauries we love them!” a fat, breathless woman screeched. Autograph books were waved in his face.

A chant started. “We love Sauries! We love Sauries!”

Kemp gritted his teeth, smiled, waved, and got through the cheering crowd as fast as he could, feeling a curious elation at the attention. When he stepped through the doors of the Sheraton’s lobby and met with his welcoming committee, his feeling of nervousness and stage fright had evaporated into a definitely up mood.

“Colonel Kemp,” said a striking brunette, holding out a welcoming hand. “I’m Kathleen Ennis of NBC. I’m the field producer for your news conference.”

Kemp took her slender hand, noting what a nice smile she had and the sparkle of her eyes. “Nice to meet you. Are you a Saurie Friend?”

She shook her curls, throwing her head back in a sexy laugh. “No, I’m too addicted to men. Just call me Kate, okay? This way, please. I’m sure you’ve had your fill of reptile fanciers.”

She guided him down the hall toward the room where he would speak. People in the foyer stopped in mid-conversation, turning his way as he passed, recognizing him, no doubt, from pictures. “We’ve got a green room with refreshments from which you’ll make your entrance. “

“Are all the satellite hookups functioning?” Kemp asked.

“Yes, that manly uniform will be seen all over the world.” Her fashionable outfit swished as she walked.

“An Arthur C. Clarke special, eh?” Kemp joked, loosening up thanks to her casual presence.

“Yes,” the pretty producer said, clearly flirting with him. “Satellite communication can be such a ball, can’t it?”

She led him to a small room adjoining the larger hall where the podium and cameras were set up.

“Believe it or not, it’s actually green,” Kate said, an attractive laugh in her voice. “And there’s someone here I believe you know, Colonel Kemp. Oh, Becky dahling,” the woman said, doing a Katharine Hepburn imitation. “The colonel’s come to call. Now you two please excuse me, I’ve got a dozen things to do in the next half hour.”

“Hello, Phineas,” said Dr. Rebecca Thalberg, getting up from a chair. She gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, which felt strange coming from a former lover. “I’ve decided to accept your invitation.”

* * *

The news conference was as large as any the Sheraton had ever given, though representatives from the media had been restricted to one reporter per magazine, TV station, or newspaper.

As per Colonel Kemp’s request, he and Dr. Thalberg were announced as simply as possible. Kemp and Rebecca made their way through a blaze of flashbulbs to the podium. Becky assumed a straight-backed seat nearby while Kemp instinctively grabbed the podium, letting the applause die down.

“Thank you,” he said. “I would like to read a statement first, and then I’ll welcome your questions.”

Kemp pulled a piece of paper from an inside pocket, unfolded it, and carefully placed it before him.

“I’m sure you are all acquainted with the essential facts provided by the IASA concerning the discovery, the exploration of, and the subsequent conflict aboard the alien artifact popularly known as the Dragonstar. You also no doubt realize that as the Chief of Deep Space Operations for the IASA, Artifact One, the Dragonstar, is my direct responsibility.

“At the present time, I am also responsible for introducing the world to this incredible discovery. This is quite a complicated task and one that I do not take lightly; the Dragonstar and the discoveries we have made aboard it are potentially monumental in our race’s development.

“Therefore, rather than content myself with a skimpy report, I have taken upon myself the task of producing a documentary in conjunction with some of the finest individuals in television and science today.

“This documentary, produced by World Media Corporation, will be shown May 15, 2028, and will be made available to all networks or television stations capable of receiving a signal from the TranSatNet, which will beam our partly recorded, partly live telecast.”

Kemp looked up to see what response this announcement had brought. The reporters were literally sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting to hurl questions.

“The purpose of this telecast will be threefold:

“First, to show to the people of Earth the scope of the cylinder in audio and visual terms. Our cameras will take a tour of Artifact One, exterior and interior, complete with coverage of the denizens of the interior, both intelligent and nonintelligent.

“Second, to fully document and describe all of the events from astronomical location of the cylinder in its cometary orbit through the numerous misadventures, tragedies, and conflicts experienced before the successful placement of Artifact One in a stable position relative to the Earth and the Moon.

“Finally, to introduce, live, the intelligent life-form we have come to call ‘Saurians’, and to discuss the implications of what was discovered in the control sections of the ship, which are even now being explored and analyzed by the IASA scientific team headed by Dr. Robert Jakes.

“The IASA feels that the people of Earth are owed more than the basic facts, facts which hardly disclose the depth and scope of our experiences with the ‘Dragonstar’ and barely touch upon its future.

“This is a privilege and a challenge, and to undertake such an endeavor takes time.

“We ask only your patience. I can personally assure you that you will be amply rewarded.”

Kemp smiled for the first time.

“Thank you. I’d also like to thank my colleague Dr. Rebecca Thalberg for joining me today. We will now take fifteen minutes of questions.”

As Becky joined him at the podium, reporters leaped to their feet, struggling to be called upon.

Kemp picked a reporter at random. He was amused at presidential news conferences the President seemed to know each of the reporters, and he, Kemp, hardly knew a one.

“Jack Talent, Cablescope Newservices. Colonel Kemp, the term ‘misadventures’ seems hardly adequate to describe the incredible series of foul-ups and catastrophes experienced by the IASA, at a cost of many lives. Will this be fully covered in your documentary?”

Kemp cleared his throat. “Yes. From the loss of the mining snipe and its two pilots to the Dragonstar’s defense system through the massacre upon the entrance into the rotating cylinder, through the confrontation with the Third World Confederation over ... ah ... media rights to the vessel.”

The crowd laughed.

Another hand was acknowledged.

“Richard Whiting,
Washington Post.
This question is addressed to Dr. Rebecca Thalberg. Dr. Thalberg, you, along with Ian Coopersmith, were marooned inside the Dragonstar after dinosaurs attacked and killed the rest of your boarding party. Your struggle for survival while waiting for rescue has excited much speculation. Will you and Captain Coopersmith take part in this documentary and fully recount your experiences?”

“I can only speak for myself,” Becky said. “Captain Coopersmith is presently on extended leave from the service and at this point does not intend to take part in media coverage. However, in the interest of getting all the facts straight, I have agreed to cooperate with Colonel Kemp and his crew in whatever way I can ... yes? In the back row ... ?”

“Louis Stathis, HM Wireservice. Those dorks in the TWC are still screaming bloody murder. They claim that the IASA are imperialist barbarians who welcomed their aid with bullets and blood. They are particularly upset about the loss of one Marcus Jashad, leader of their ‘friendly’ expedition.”

Kemp snorted with laughter and anger. “Sounds like they’re talking out of their assholes to me.” He colored as he realized what he had said.

The crowd broke up as Kemp tensed and attempted to reclaim his stiff military demeanor.

“Perhaps I should rephrase that last statement,” he said with the faintest of smiles. “I’m surprised that the TWC even acknowledges that such an expedition was sent. I think the record shows that Jashad and his crew were terrorists, intent upon claiming the Dragonstar
—
and any stardrive
—
for their own. The protests of the TWC are clearly a smoke screen for their embarrassment. Fortunately, the combined forces of the greater world powers are lenient, and no strong measures have been taken against that organization for its cutthroat efforts. The message the originators of the Dragonstar have placed there is for all of us. The IASA program will be available to all countries that care to accept the transmission.”