Dinosaur World Omnibus Read online

  The draconyx all the while looks on sleepily where it lies, entirely oblivious that we’re on the verge of abandoning it to the forest once more.

  An hour into the work and we’ve obtained most of the wood we need. Summer’s immense strength has been useful in cutting down the necessary trees, while the physically weaker Spring and even Harper have been constructing the rope with which the wood shall have to be affixed. There’s a knack to rope I never could quite get the hang of, where you have three pieces and somehow twist them into one, more powerful, strand. Of course we’re not using rope, so whatever vines they’re finding better be good ones.

  While the lieutenant and Summer are dealing with the cutting of the wood I drop down beside Spring for a short rest. Harper has gone to fetch some water which will have to be boiled before we can drink it, which means I can stop working without having Harper annoy me at all.

  Spring smiles at me as I pass her my canteen and a biscuit I was keeping in my belt for a special occasion. Poor thing looks exhausted, with sweat pouring off her brow and soaking through her cap. We sit there in silence for a few moments, savouring the food and more than that the shade we’ve managed to find behind what we’ve already managed to construct of the raft. I never realised how much of a blessing being out of the sun could be.

  “I’m going to miss that ride of ours, you know,” Spring says while we rest. “I’ve grown quite fond of him, and it sure beats walking.”

  “Yeah, but getting the hell out of here’s going to make it worth it.” This is one of those times when I sure wouldn’t mind knowing the girl’s real name, but then it’s polite not to ask and put her in that position. Our unit’s one of those you’ve never heard of. We deal with all the stuff no one else likes to, all the things our superiors later claim never took place. Like pulling people off hostile worlds it’s illegal to even visit. The best way to explain away our presence here is to deny we ever came, and if it comes to light that we did we just tell the truth and say we came to pull Harper out. Harper’s the only actual name that’s ever going to be associated to this mission, so if the lawyers want to come after anyone it’s going to have to be her.

  Still, I’ve often wondered what Spring’s real name is. Spring suits her well enough, but I’ve always pegged her for an Anna or a Louise.

  But it’s useless to think about such things. People like us don’t exist so far as enquiries are concerned, and for that to be true we have to remain anonymous.

  “So what did you really find in that crash?” she asks. “The lieutenant’s keeping tight-lipped about it, but you must have found something, yeah?”

  I smile at her naivety in thinking that there must be meanings behind every meaningless action. “There’s nothing more I can tell you, Spring. We found a crashed commercial plane and Winter took the black box.” I shrug. “That was all there was to it really.” I try not to think back to the skeleton still sitting in its chair, waiting for the plane to properly land so he or she could unbuckle the seatbelt keeping them safe. My fingers absently play through my pocket and I realise I’m fumbling with the music device I took from the crash.

  Pulling it out, I check the charge. Even after so long in the forest its battery life is still good. I’m not sure whether the humidity will have destroyed the thing yet though. I fumble with the buttons, a part of my conscience reminding me this belonged to someone long dead and that I’m nothing but a ghoul for having removed it. But there’s also a part of my mind which tells me this is the only thing remaining of that person. Stored on this one device are the hopes and dreams of an individual. I’m holding something of her soul, something which made her who she was in life.

  It’s sacrilege to listen to it, but perhaps more a sacrilege not to.

  I toss the thing to Spring. There’s no way innocence could be corrupted by music, so it’s best she relives the poor dead woman’s life. Spring attaches the headphone to her ear and smiles slightly, which I assume means the device is still working.

  I close my eyes and lean back against the wood, wondering what other bodies this world holds, how many further lives it’s destroyed.

  “You have good taste in music, Corporal,” she says.

  She thinks the device belongs to me, and I realise I hadn’t told her otherwise when I tossed it her. I’ve been so drawn into my own thoughts and feelings lately I’m forgetting to communicate with those around me. I’m not sure why a girl as young as Spring thinks me having a taste in music fifty years old is good taste in music. When I was a teenager anything my parents listened to was strictly outdated, and this music’s even older.

  Spring hands me back the device. “Never took you to be a fan of Sins of our Sister though.”

  “Who?”

  Spring laughs at my expression. “Come on, don’t tell me it came with the machine.” When she gets no joy from me she continues. “Arcto-found?”

  Now that’s something of which I’m vaguely aware. Music trends change so much, so quickly, that there are always these weird terms rising to describe a new and supposedly different type of sound. Rock, pop and classical will likely be around forever, but there are a shedload of others that come and go all the time. Arcto-found, however, was after my time. It’s what the teenagers listen to now. In short, I’m simply too old for it.

  “And that’s on here?” I ask seriously, holding the music device in the air as though it’s a stabbing finger of accusation.

  “Uh, yeah?” she says, the lower half of her face still amused, but her eyes are a little concerned now. “You don’t know what’s on your own player?”

  My mind explodes with what this means. A thousand possibilities circle through my brain, none of them good. Lieutenant Winter confirmed the wreck had been there for fifty years, she had insisted there was no sense in checking things, and had taken the black box regardless. Yet this device could not have been there more than a couple of years, five at the most. Could the lieutenant have been wrong? Could she have been so determined to get out of there quickly that she messed up in her search? Is it possible that she could have been out by fifty years though?

  But what’s the other alternative? That the lieutenant lied to me? That she could see full well the plane had only crashed recently but lied to me to get me out of there? Is she really that adamant about getting away from Ceres that she’s willing to not properly investigate a crash which potentially could have had survivors?

  A third, more rational, explanation comes to mind then. Perhaps the lieutenant had not been wrong and had not lied. What if someone else was on Ceres and had found the wreck? They could have dropped their music system and left without it. It would mean I could still trust the lieutenant’s judgements, but also means there’s someone else running around Ceres.

  I don’t like to think badly of anyone in my team, but that Winter could have made such a gross error is unthinkable. I know she drinks too much, but it’s never impacted on her observation skills before. She’s always managed to get the job done: she’s the best soldier I’ve ever served with.

  Spring’s still looking at me strangely and I know I have to say something, have to placate her somehow. I can’t go over and accuse the lieutenant of either negligence or lying, so that leaves only the option of sitting on the information until I have the opportunity to have a quiet word with her.

  “It’s new,” I say, shoving the device back into a pocket. “Like you say, must have come with the machine.”

  Spring shrugs, and I can tell she doesn’t believe me. Nor can she possibly know what’s going through my mind, which means Winter clearly didn’t tell them the plane had crashed years ago. But then why would she? Just because she didn’t give them all a pointless fact doesn’t mean she’s keeping something from me. Winter never tells anyone anything unless they need to know it: it’s the military officer in her.

  “We should get back to the raft,” I say, and Spring is only too glad to be returning to something other than the awkward conversation we appear to be
having. I look over to see Summer and the lieutenant busily cutting the wood into the correct sizes. Even Harper’s back at work fashioning rope. We’re all working together to get out of this. We’re a team. It doesn’t matter what we’re telling other members of that team, we’re all working for the survival of this world. That’s the one thing I have to remember, the one thing that’s going to keep me sane here. We’re all working to survive. We’re all in this together.

  I catch the lieutenant’s eye and freeze, although there’s nothing accusing in the stare, just a silent question of why I’m not working to that end.

  Breaking away eye contact I set to arranging the wood. I can’t afford to be stirring up trouble here, not when everyone else is working so well together.

  But still the thoughts nag at my mind.

  The yearning to know the truth.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Within two hours of our deciding upon a plan the raft was ready. A full twenty metres long and six wide, it was a monster construction, complete with a tower of strong wood in which we could seek refuge should it become necessary. Saying our farewells to the draconyx, we set off into the lake, the raft charging across the surface as though it had every right to be there. For only a few moments did the lake voice complaint as it attempted to force us back to the shore with a series of powerful waves, but we weathered such attacks and spat in its face. Eventually the lake simply gave a shrug and turned its back, deciding it did not care whether we were there or not. There are few feelings in life which can rival fighting nature, and it’s always the greatest achievement when you realise you’ve conquered it.

  I doubt any of the others are thinking of this leg of our journey in quite such romantic terms, but then that’s their problem.

  The sun is a menace on Ceres, and upon the open waters like this there isn’t much protection. However, after but a few minutes the raft becomes one with the gentle sway of the lake and it’s almost a pleasure to be making the trip across. Spring’s been positioned at the top of the tower as lookout, while Summer and the lieutenant deal with the rowing: one powerful figure positioned upon each side of the raft. That leaves me to steer, which consists of repositioning our rudder and informing the two rowers when they’re veering off course. Professor Harper has been told very politely to stay out of the way, although even she has a role on board this raft. By stretching a large, thick leaf across a hollow log we’ve been able to fashion a primitive drum which she is rhythmically beating so the two rowers can keep their movements in time.

  One can only imagine the sight of us to anyone who might happen to be standing on the shore doing a bit of fishing. It would be like a group of reject Vikings were rowing past them.

  I chuckle softly at the absurdity of it all and catch Summer’s eyes as he works, seeing the reflection of my humour in him. He’s the only one of us who’s removed everything from the waist up, which is probably a good move for him considering how hot it is and how much physical work he’s having to do. Working the rudder and having to keep an eye on those huge sweat-laden muscles is perhaps the worst job I’ve ever had to endure, but I guess one of us has to do it. The lieutenant and I have kept our uniforms, purely for the armour in my respect. It’s hot, but I’d prefer to be hot than dead. In the crow’s nest Spring’s tunic hangs over the side, so presumably she’s feeling the heat as well.

  “You know what this reminds me of?” Summer asks as he rows.

  I shake my head and he laughs.

  “Yeah,” he says, “having a hard time answering that one myself.”

  Summer may be a big imposing brute of a man, but he’s always game for a laugh in the worst of situations.

  Our good humour is suddenly broken by a shout from the tower. Spring isn’t one to panic – nor is she now – but a shout is a shout nevertheless and the lieutenant calls up to her without missing a beat.

  “I don’t know what it was, ma’am,” Spring says. “But something broke the water, ma’am.”

  I look in the direction indicated but can only see a wake. It might easily be the wake of our raft, since it’s behind us, but if Private Spring says she saw something break the water then Private Spring saw something break the water.

  “There’s nothing much we can do about it,” Winter says. “Just carry on as we are, and we’ll deal with it if we need to. Private, set your rifle up there and shoot by your own judgement.”

  “Ma’am.”

  The lieutenant is trying to remain calm, which is all we can do really. I detect a sharp increase in speed as she and Summer row harder. Other than that there’s nothing we can do. We’re out upon the surface of a lake and are entirely at the mercy of anything which might be lurking beneath its depths. I can’t help but stare out across the water in case I can see a repetition of the sighting, but it’s as I look that I realise the drumbeats have become somewhat inconsistent.

  “Harper,” I call across to her. “Get back in the rhythm. And a little faster. I think our rowers have gained a little extra strength.”

  We speed along nicely and yet I know that if something wants us dead we’re not going to survive much longer. I can no longer see the shore we’ve departed, and looking ahead I can’t quite make out anything in that direction either. The fog’s set in without me even being properly aware, as though the creature beneath us is vampiric or akin to the mermaids.

  The raft suddenly jolts and I cling to the rudder as it settles. Spring releases a mild yelp and Harper screams, but Summer and the lieutenant don’t even seem to have noticed, as though they think we’ve just passed over a speed bump. I nod to Spring, who’s all ready with her rifle. She’s mounted the gun on the side of the wooden tower and is swivelling to see anything surface. So far there’s nothing and I’m hoping whatever it was that bumped us did it accidentally and is now half a mile away from us, stunned and trying to work out just what it hit.

  I hear the water behind me churn just as Spring gives a shout of warning. I duck, hand still on the rudder, but as I turn it’s to see nothing but a fine spray come for me. The lake water soaks me through, but nothing else happens. I look up to Spring, who seems a little shaken. That she’s reliving the moment when she was peddling a helicopter backwards from an enraged daspletosaurus is evident. I had meant to ask her just what happened to that copter, since we sure could have used it to get back to the shuttle quicker, although I doubt I would much like the answer.

  And then I see it. A dark form moving by the side of the raft, along the side upon which Summer is rowing. Water is a superb mask for anything and as such I can’t be sure of its size or family, but that the creature is keeping time with the raft is unsettling since it means there’s no way we’re going to be able to outrun this thing. That only leaves staying to put up a fight, which is something I don’t think any of us especially want to have to deal with.

  I blink and the creature’s gone, presumably having dived. I don’t know if that means it’s gone or if it’s done that in preparation for attack. I wish I’d paid more attention to what creatures might be living in the waters of Ceres, or even of underwater threats in general. It’s something to make amends upon when I get home, but getting home to do so is going to be the trick.

  The raft rocks again and I see two of the logs rise momentarily. The creature is testing the strength of the raft. Never having seen one before it doesn’t understand the thing, and is curious. Perhaps this means it wants to eat us but can’t understand what we’re riding, perhaps it just means the creature is wondering what we are. Either way could prove fatal for us, but if we’re lucky its curiosity will be turned if we can just scare it enough.

  Again the raft rocks and this time I briefly see something splash out upon the side. It was thick and pale, looking incredibly slick. It had to have been a tail, but it was larger than anything I’ve seen before. Whatever owns that thing is something I really don’t want to have to tangle with.

  “Private!” the lieutenant shouts. “Put a few bullets in the brine!”
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  It’s not brine, it’s freshwater, but I don’t correct her. Spring snaps off three shots from her rifle, the bullets spearing through the water. She’s not going to hit anything, and I have no idea what sounds bullets make once they hit the water: certainly the creature won’t have heard anything of the gun’s rapport. A machinegun would come in handy right about now, although with any luck those three shots are going to prove enough to curb that creature’s curiosity and enable us to reach the far shore without any ...

  The rudder suddenly turns of its own accord, almost throwing me to the floor. I keep firm hold, wrestling with whatever has the other end. I don’t even know why I’m doing it, but perhaps if I can show this thing it shouldn’t mess with us it might even go away.

  I fall back suddenly as the thing must have released the rudder, and the waters go still once more. I cast a nervous glance ahead to see how far we have yet to go, but all I can see is the omnipresent fog and it’s really starting to get on my nerves.

  The raft shudders, water sloshing over the side and drenching Summer before the raft levels off again. He does his best to ignore the attack, his eyes set in a fiery determination as he concentrates on the steady rhythm of his rowing. Harper has stopped her drumming by now, although neither rowers need her at the moment, working under instinct to save all our lives. I keep hold of the rudder, knowing my own position aboard this raft is just as vital. At the moment the waters are calm again, with only the backwash of the monster’s passing still gently rocking us.

  Harper shrieks. I look up to see a great beak has broken the lake and my eyes widen in terror. The head is almost crocodilian, with two piercing eyes standing at the rear end of a long snout bearing a maw containing razor teeth. The powerful jaw muscles snap at the professor, although she’s just out of reach, and swiftly does the head slide back into the water.