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  Presently I’m lying on a rock, and I sit up slowly. My body aches and I’m tired, and I know it’s the come-down from the adrenalin high I was on last night. Professor Harper is huddled nearby, hugging a flask of steaming tea. I notice now the fire before us, over which is cooking some small animal. I decide I don’t care what it is, don’t want to know in fact; there’s no room for fussy eaters in the survivalist’s world.

  There’s another woman with us as well. Tall, well-built and menacing, Lieutenant Winter seldom smiles and when she does it twists her scarred features. Slashed across her face are three tears, indicative of an old encounter with a big cat. If ever I wonder about those scars, I only shudder to think of just how much pain the cat was in before she allowed it to die.

  Winter wears a lot more armour than me, but then she’s always been that way. Whereas I’ve always opted for the lightweight armour which offers more than reasonable protection, Winter prefers to look like she’s going out into the cold laden down with a dozen layers. I guess the attitude fits her name though. The only annoying thing is that no matter how heavier her armour, she never seems to move any slower than the rest of us.

  She catches my eye and offers a mild growl. No one could ever be accused of finding the lieutenant a beautiful woman. Even if she wasn’t built like an ox, she shaves her head to a military black stubble, while her nose has been broken several times and never properly reset. She sports a trio of scars across one cheek and the corresponding ear is torn and withered. That she’s actually married surprises me, although no one in the unit’s ever met her long-suffering husband. We reckon he might be made up, but none of us is brave enough to ever raise the suggestion.

  Right now Lieutenant Winter is doing what she does best: drinking whiskey out of a flask and not giving a damn about whether we think it’s water. Winter’s a hard woman to work with, a terror to her enemies; but she’s always got your back. If you’re on her unit you’re in her family and she’ll look after you properly no matter what it costs her.

  “Morning, Corporal,” she grunts. “Seen any more dinosaurs you want to run away from?”

  I ignore the jibe, assuming it not to be an actual question. “Thanks for the save, ma’am. Professor, you all right?”

  Harper nods, staring into the flames. She’s either still in shock over everything that happened last night or else she’s already got on the bad side of the lieutenant. To be honest I’m surprised the lieutenant hasn’t hit her yet for dragging us all down here.

  “Where are the others?” I ask. “Did they get away from the daspletosaurus?”

  “Aye. Must have learned how to run from that running school you teach. I’ve got ‘em checking out the terrain, setting up sensors and stuff. Don’t want any more of those nasty beasties getting the drop on us.”

  I can feel the barbs to her words, although not having any sensors to set up was hardly my fault. “My shuttle was totalled, ma’am,” is all I say.

  “So the professor’s been telling me. You should’ve made sure you locked the door properly, fall-girl.”

  It seems the professor’s been spreading her nickname for me already. Looks like it’s back to her being Goldie then. “If your shuttle’s close, ma’am, we should get off Ceres before we can worry about anything tripping those sensors.”

  The lieutenant gives me a look half sympathy, half wondering why she ever let me on her team. “Sweet, Corporal. We didn’t stay here just because we didn’t want to disturb your beauty nap. We’re parked a few hours to the east of here, but that storm was worse than we thought. It was brought about by a tectonic shift, which means we’re cut off from the shuttle, at least on a direct route. We’re going to have to skirt the mountains, which’ll add a couple days to our stay here. Nothing major; it’ll give you a few more opportunities to run away from the wildlife.”

  Again I ignore her. I tend to do that a lot by the way. “Do you know what’s in the area? I got the impression the valleys were home to ankylosaurs.”

  Winter shrugs, but she doesn’t fool me. She’s done just as much research as I have; she’d never walk into a situation without having planned every single step she knows she’ll be taking. “Herbivores don’t concern me,” she says. “What have you found out since you got here? I asked the professor, but she started going on about plants and I felt like strangling her with a vine.”

  Harper does not react to this, and I wonder how long the lieutenant’s been subjecting her to these insults. I briefly fill in the lieutenant on what’s happened so far, mentioning I couldn’t identify the type of theropod which tore apart my shuttle but that it had to have been a lot smaller than that daspletosaurus. It’s something to be on the lookout for anyway.

  She listens in silence, and once I’m done takes the animal from the flames and tosses it at me even as she gets to her feet. “Eat en route. We have to meet up with the others.”

  “Can we not just fly to the shuttle?” I ask.

  “Copter’s gone.”

  She does not elaborate, but I don’t have enough reason to enquire for details. I presume there was an accident last night. Perhaps the daspletosaurus was faster than they expected. Perhaps we’re all underestimating the dinosaurs living in this place. It might be an idea for us to start remembering that this is their home and that we’re just interlopers. If we march around with our guns cocked thinking everything will fall in line for us we’re going to end up dead. It’s not something the lieutenant will ever admit to, but a lesson she has no doubt already learned since landing here.

  Harper rises once the lieutenant has walked off. She’s been strangely silent, sullen-looking even. She seems to struggle to meet my eyes.

  “You sure you’re all right?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she replies with a sheepish smile I can see is faked. “Thanks for saving my life back there.”

  “Not sure you should thank me. I think you’ve already found out the lieutenant’s far worse than any dinosaur you could ever face.” It was meant as a joke, although Harper doesn’t even crack a smile. Something’s wrong, that much is certain; and I’m not too sure it’s just because the lieutenant’s no doubt given her verbal hell over what she’s put us all through. All I can think is that Winter’s threatened her somehow. Whatever it is, we’re going to have to be working together for the next couple of days so I’m hoping people can start acting as though they’re getting on, even if they’re not.

  “I’ll keep you safe, Goldie,” I say, clapping her shoulder as I pass, taking a bite out of my rat-thing. God, it’s awful. But it looks as though I have another couple of days of this to come.

  *

  The three of us don’t talk much as we travel, but then the lieutenant always likes to concentrate when we’re in the field. Moving through the valley is at the same time a great idea and a terrible one. With cliffs rising either side of us and almost level terrain before and behind, there’s very little chance of any predators sneaking up on us. However, it also means that if something does appear there’s equally very little chance of our getting away. I’ve retrieved both my pistols and rifle and found thankfully none were damaged, but my bullets were incredibly ineffective against that daspletosaurus yesterday so unless the lieutenant’s packing a rocket launcher I don’t see we’re going to have much better results should the thing return for another round.

  The lieutenant doesn’t seem fazed at all by the possibility of attack; she just keeps taking swigs from her canteen and walks ahead moodily. But then that’s the lieutenant for you. I find myself at the back once more with Professor Harper, although we don’t have anything to say to each other so the journey is a long one.

  Ahead of us, the lieutenant stops suddenly, holding up a balled fist to tell me she senses something. I grab Harper by the arm and lead her quickly to the side of the valley, searching for a cave or some other safe hiding hole. There’s a slight trench formed likely by rainwater and I drop her into this without a word. She understands there’s danger and thankfu
lly doesn’t voice any complaint as I leave her and jog back to the lieutenant.

  I can see by her face the lieutenant is concentrating hard, although as I strain my eyes I can see nothing.

  Then I hear a strange sound, like a braying, and I unshoulder my rifle. Winter doesn’t have a gun in her hand yet, and I can see by her expression she’s still trying to figure out the situation. In this valley echoes will play havoc with sound, and it’s entirely possible the creature is heading for us down the sides of the cliff, or from behind.

  Something appears before us then and we both tense. The beast which emerges from around a bend in the valley ahead is large, plodding along fairly slowly on four legs, the rear of which are much larger and better muscled. Its body is bulky without being bulbous, and a thick tail protrudes from the back. Its neck is thinner than that of the daspletosaurus and not much longer. Its head reminds me of a horse, with flaring nostrils and a long face ending in an almost beaked mouth. Its eyes stand upon the side of its head, although from their positioning in the skull I can only assume it can see ahead perfectly well.

  Upon its back are two people: a large, barrel-chested man and a smaller, younger woman in the front, holding what appear to be leather reins. The younger woman is waving at us and beaming a genuine smile.

  Winter grunts and starts towards them while I signal to Harper that it’s all right to come out. Together we go to meet the rest of our unit.

  We’re reunited only a minute or two later, and the two people dismount their seven metre steed. These of course are Corporal Summer and Private Spring: a name we love so much I doubt she’ll ever be promoted because then we’d lose our personal spa. She always reminds me of Major Major Major Major, but Spring doesn’t read books so doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about.

  Spring is our communications expert, which would have come in handy yesterday. She’s young – I never learned her age but I’d guess she’s about nineteen – and still has that positive outlook on life you tend to have when you haven’t quite grown up yet. She’s short, slim and always ready with a smile and a joke. She wears her blonde hair to just above her shoulders and hides most of it under a cap; that she’s wearing a hat in such a hot environment just shows how clever young people can be sometimes.

  Corporal Summer is the only man in the unit. At six and a half feet and built of pure muscle, Summer’s our strongman of the group: I reckon he’d even have no problem wrestling the lieutenant to the ground and that’s no mean feat, let me tell you. He has an obsession with guns, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys wanton killing. He’s also the team’s medic, having trained extensively for the role and having achieved qualifications to actually be termed a nurse. In fact Summer could easily have gone into the medical business, but the man likes his guns too much and there isn’t much cause for swinging guns around in a hospital ward.

  “Transportation?” the lieutenant asks, eyeing the creature.

  “It’s some sort of ornithopod,” Summer says. “We found it grazing, figured it was more than large enough to accommodate at least a couple of us. We could potentially get four on its back together, so long as none of them was me.”

  “I think it’s a drinker,” Spring says helpfully.

  “It’s a draconyx,” Harper says. “Drinkers were a lot smaller than that.”

  I frown, not having heard of either name before. “Hold on, you’re telling me there’s a dinosaur called a drinker? That’s a pet name, right?”

  “Named after some dinosaur explorer called Drinker,” Harper says. “You know, like the Marshosaurus?”

  I’m surprised Harper did any research before coming to Ceres, but then I’m finding out a lot about her the more time passes. “OK,” I say, “so how fast can this ... draconyx go?”

  “What, you’re intending to race them now?”

  “We won’t need to move fast,” the lieutenant says, seemingly not caring at all about my rather useful line of enquiry. “We can use the draconyx for scouting while we head back for the shuttle.”

  “Let’s just hope yours is still in one piece,” I say.

  “Why?” Spring asks. “What happened to yours?”

  “Some dinos broke in,” I say. “Totalled everything. The food, the radio, the chairs. I doubt it could even fly again.”

  “Dinosaurs are that clever?” Spring asks, some of the omnipresent joy bleeding out of her to be replaced with nervousness. “Didn’t you lock the door?”

  “Of course I locked the door,” I snap. It’s been a long couple of days, but at the girl’s crestfallen face I instantly regret taking a pop at her.

  “Well now we’ve all peed each other off,” the lieutenant says, “let’s see about reaching our own shuttle. Which incidentally does have the doors locked. Autumn, Summer, Spring; you take the draconyx and scout ahead. I’ll bring up the rear with the professor.”

  It seems an odd arrangement, for the leader of our unit to be looking after the civilian, but I get to ride a dinosaur so I’m hardly going to be complaining about it. Summer vaults onto the back of the creature and grins as he helps me up before him, Spring taking the driver’s seat and clutching the reins tightly. The dinosaur is warmer than I expected, the scutes softer and more responsive. Nor does the dinosaur itself seem to mind our being here, and even gives a little hoot of joy.

  “Ride ‘er out, Private!” Summer shouts, and Spring cracks the reins. The dinosaur jerks and I realise this isn’t going to be quite the smooth ride I’d expected. But I’m on a forbidden planet riding a dinosaur and I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. When I get home, Davey’s going to be the most envious kid in the world.

  CHAPTER SIX

  First, let me tell you that riding a dinosaur bareback is the greatest experience anyone could ever have. I’ve skydived through the Magenta Heights, I’ve walked the bottom of the Blue Ocean in a naked-wetsuit, I’ve even driven a motorbike through the gas clouds of Jupiter (don’t ask), but none of that has ever brought about a thrill the like of which is running through me now. That’s not to say riding a dinosaur is more thrilling than anything else I’ve ever done, nor that it’s more exciting. And certainly it’s nowhere near as dangerous as a hundred other things I’ve done in my life. But there’s a simple pleasure in sitting there, my naked fingers holding onto the sides of the dinosaur hide, the skin to skin contact affording us more intimacy than a lover’s caress. Even the rhythmic bumping of the ride as the dinosaur moves is beginning to feel like some form of aphrodisiac. That I’m not alone in my supreme enjoyment only heightens my own pleasure, because I realise in the years to come I’ll have someone to talk to, to remind myself that this actually even happened.

  We ride through the valley, leaving the rockiness of the terrain behind as we come to some fields. I can see the trees in the distance indicative of another forest, which seems to make up most of the world in fact, although we’re not heading in that direction so I figure the route to the shuttle must be across the clearer fields. I trust that Summer and Spring know where we’re going, which leaves me to just sit here and enjoy the moment.

  Since coming to Ceres this is the first thing which has made me actually glad to have come after Harper.

  The sun’s beating down upon me, there’s no trouble in sight and I’m riding the back of a dinosaur. What more could a girl want from life?

  “You know,” Summer says behind me, his big frame offering more psychological protection than anything I’ve ever known before, “I’ve never really thought about Ceres before. Sure, every kid likes dinosaurs, but I never actually wanted to come here.”

  “Never?” Spring asks from before me. “God, I’ve always wanted to find an excuse to visit this place. Man, I’m glad that professor smuggled herself down here.”

  I laugh. “I’m sure she didn’t come here just so you could have an excuse to pay Ceres a visit.”

  “You don’t like her much do you?”

  I try not to shudder; there’s no way I’m allowing Professor Mari
gold Harper to ruin this glorious moment. “If she’d learn a little respect for other people I might.”

  “No you wouldn’t.”

  “You think she’s that bad?”

  Spring laughs, and that in itself is a joyful sound. “No, silly. I know you, that’s all. You don’t like people pushing you around, telling you what to do. You only put up with the army because your direct superiors are in the army with you.”

  What the girl’s saying is true. I know I have a problem with the upper classes, but then what self-respecting working class girl doesn’t? The way I see it there are only two classes: upper and lower. If you work for a living you’re working class: if you don’t you’re upper. Anyone who goes around calling themselves middle- or upper-middle class or whatever other nonsense they come up with is deluding herself. And such delusion feeds the upper class machine which just lies on its back all day watching the rest of us whore ourselves out to keep them from having to lift a finger.

  That Harper’s come here off her own back isn’t evidence that she’s working: it’s just showing she hasn’t anything better to do with her time. Yes, her theories could cure cancer, and that can only be a good thing; but she only has the time to think about these things because she doesn’t have a proper job. If she worked for a company or taught in a university, those would be proper jobs. Instead I don’t think she does anything. She just has a few degrees because once someone who doesn’t need to work gains a degree, what’s the next move? Go back and get another?

  But there’s no way I’m saying any of this out loud. Spring and Summer are more than aware of my particular pet hatreds and I’m not going to ... but I’ve already ruined the mood so anything I’m going to say from now on’s bound to come out a bit grumpy.

  “What’s that?”