Fasten your seatbelts
Here’s something to take the edge off. Maybe. Check out the funky new icon, courtesy of one illustrious Bloodsucking Editor. Is that the cutest little bastard shadow doctor you ever saw, or is that the cutest little bastard shadow doctor you ever saw?
I shall call him, “Mini-Me.”
Now here’s a little something I call
[LOWLY WRITER’S NOTE: Time for the Invisiverse’s biggest copout: A lack of imagination, inspiration, and little grey cells has resulted in my decision to adopt and warp suggestions of others concerning the population and machinations of the Colony. Therefore, the members of the High Council, a unique group that develops and implements policy decisions as well as serving as the governing body of the Valley in the occasional absence of Hephaestus Gryphon, include the following (taken directly from our “well-rounded” cigar-chomping Editor… heh):
* A citizen of the vast and powerful Iroquois Council, circa 1924.
* A member of the Anglo-Celt Resistance to the Egyptian Empire, 19th century.
* A Soviet literature censor born in Queens in the '60s.
* One of the last survivors of Earth-4241, where a Japanese icebreaker freed the Old Ones.
* A giant roach, citizen of *KK*Z-# at the height of the Rockies, mutated citizen of a nuclear post-apocalyptic Earth.
* A samurai from the entirely isolated and timeless island of Nippon, where the Peasant Revolution failed and they never left an agrarian daimyo system.
* A pirate of the Brethren of the Caribbean who fought in the Second World War against Nazi Europe.
* A bloodsport gladiator from Roman television.
* A 17th-century submariner.
* A crystal power technician from the Trans-Veldt Matriarchy.
* A Hindu ironlord.
There are Advisor positions for the following individuals:
Sky Commodore Guy Gibson, Head of Marlborough Squadron and Law Enforcement Division;
Cammy Devereaux, Paladin Marshal of the Heroditus Club and the Head of External Affairs Division;
Alita Muldoon, Representative of Trainer Association (in place of TA head Roland Muldoon, who intensely dislikes politics) and Internal Affairs Division
It should also be noted that I take no credit for the images to follow. If anyone is interested, I can dig up sources. And yes, I realize they are daytime pics for a night scene. They’re just for reference and fun. Please address all complaints to …
The Hand
321 Yermom Rd.
Wateva, LSR 90210
Thank you. That is all.]
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INVASION
Doctor Curare and Alita Muldoon entered through the wide, arched doors of the Grand Chamber, and walked down the center aisle toward the multi-tiered Council benches. There was a small public audience gathered for the evening meeting, and Alita motioned for Curare to sit behind a solitary desk in front of the Council. She bowed before the Council members and walked to the side where three podiums stood. She took her place behind the far podium and a giant insectoid being stood as murmurs drifted through the audience. The creature’s wings expanded and vibrated with a deafening whir for a few moments. When the wings folded once more, the room was silent. It opened its curving mandibles and let out a raspy, chattering series of calls. There was a low hum from speakers mounted around the room and an electronic translator kicked in.
“Order. This meeting of the High Council is in session. We initiate our agenda with open calls for business items. The floor is open for five two-minute abstracts. Speak.”
Guy Gibson and Alita Muldoon stood at the same moment. The tall blattoid turned to regard them and whirred and clicked its mouthparts.
“Council recognizes Advisor Gibson in priority position. Speak.”
“If it pleases the Council, I wish to address an issue of Valley Security. I infer that my subject and that of Lady Muldoon are one and the same. We have an Outsider in our midst this evening, and I believe this to be of utmost concern. Unless I am mistaken, there have been no verified Outsider contacts in the past several years. Yes, I have heard rumors of such individuals, including reports of fresh activity at the Dacha. But these have not been confirmed, and this… man…”, he gestured toward the seated Curare, “… is now claiming to have come through the boundary and traveled on foot to our city without incident.”
“Do you believe this man to be false?” A man clad in bejeweled samurai armor stood and addressed Gibson, interrupting his time. A few of the Council members muttered amongst themselves, but most understood that certain rules could be bent in such exceptional circumstances.
“I believe he should be formally questioned about his identity and intentions, sir.”
“Doctor Sean Campbell has told me of his vocation in herbal healing, and I believe his word,” Alita spoke aloud and immediately fell silent, having breached etiquette. Her father would probably have done the same, but he was a more willful individual. The Council members regarded her for a moment; then the blattoid stood and spoke once more.
“The input of Representative Muldoon will be taken into consideration. Rise, Subject: Campbell.”
Doctor Curare rose to his feet and watched Cammy Devereaux eye him suspiciously. He looked straight at her and her eyes grew wide. She stood quickly as the insectoid prepared to address Curare. She bowed low as the chitinous head swiveled to meet her gaze.
“Lady Devereaux. You wish to speak?”
“I do, Councilor Tarsala. It concerns this man’s identity.”
“Your word in this matter should prove valuable. As a Representative of the External Affairs Division, it is only natural…” a tall Iroquois councilwoman spoke in a strong tone.
Tarsala spoke once again through the translator. “All in favor of suspending general interrogation of Subject: Campbell?”
A chorus of affirmative responses sounded through the Council members. One of the councilors looked rather moody about the whole proceeding, but the Brethren of the Caribbean did have a reputation for surliness.
“Lady Devereaux. The floor is yours.”
“Thank you, Councilors. It was not my intention of delaying your interrogation to any great extent, but I believe this man is not who he claims to be, and that his true identity may affect your interrogation.”
Alita Muldoon stood with an enraged look on her face. “Are you calling this man a liar?”
“Lady Muldoon,” the literature sensor spoke coldly, “you have only recently been appointed to this Advisor position, and it would be a shame for … youthful exuberance to hinder your future with us.”
Doctor Curare stepped forward quietly and waited. The Council members regarded him with interest for a moment, and then Tarsala spoke to Devereaux.
“You have the floor.”
“I yield the floor to Doctor Campbell, if it pleases the Council. I believe he speaks on this matter.”
“Subject: Campbell. Speak.”
“Gracias, Councilor. I contend that I have not been dishonest before you, but I was… predisposed toward omission. I did not know how full disclosure would affect my visit to this land. I am not interested in conflict. Only in gathering knowledge. I can see that the Valley is well-governed, in spite of all circumstances.”
“Get to the point, Doctor,” the pirate interrupted impatiently. “We govern this land in the absence of Lord Gryphon, whose ruling we accept whilst he is present. Now give us a name, ye landlubber, lest we cast you in the catacomb dungeon to await his return.”
Doctor Curare looked at the frowning faces. The pirate had not lied. Had news failed to reach a single member of the Council? Lastly, he gave Cammy Devereaux a hard, questioning look, as if prying for knowledge. She looked away for a moment. She knew.
“My name is Curare. And I bring tidings of great import and tragedy. Lady Devereaux will verify my words.”
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The man put down the book and switched off the wristlamp, yawning and stretching out his arms. He had been on duty for less than an hour, but already he was fighting off fatigue. He hadn’t been sleeping well the past few days, with recurring nightmares about a living dinette set and a stray cat with leather boots. He’d never worked the night shift before, and sleeping during the day was difficult. The night shift was slow, with most activity near the Colony margins dropping off around midnight. Of course, there were psychedelic mage clubs, all-night Wuxia teahouses, Elizabethan Era pubs, Elvin techno parties, and a bizarre array of alternate nightlife possibilities in the interior. But there was no such excitement on the wall parapets.
The sentry dressed in a Buckingham Palace guard uniform raised the nightvision goggles to his face. Not that they made a bit of difference. He couldn’t see a thing. On nights such as this, a dense fog bank rolled down from the mountain soon after his shift began. It filtered through the Colony and settled over the low plains beyond the walls. It made for a long and boring night. The man set the goggles down and once more picked up his Mandarin copy of Pride and Prejudice.
In a darkened cobblestone alley, a wooden door creaked slowly open as a troodon pushed hard against it. Four others followed close behind, their behavior following a precise timing. These dinosaurs were messengers for Valley Parcel Service, a private post service serving the Colony and settlements outside (to send messages and packages as far as the Dacha or Bronto Pavillion, people used Valley Express). The troodons were among the most intelligent dinosaurs, and had excellent capacities for memory. Each animal had a memory of certain Colony neighborhoods, as well as a schedule of delivery times. The VPS supervisors often found them as reliable as human workers, and they were willing to work for scraps, literally. One of the animals had returned to the VPS stable with scratches and bite marks the previous night. A Trainer medic had been called in, but found no sign of disease. The animal had probably been attacked while outside the Colony walls, the medic had said before he left. This was troubling to the supervisor, since this animal had been assigned to one of the upland neighborhoods, at the base of Mount Jennifer. This animal was far from any of the walls and should not have gotten outside at all. Nevertheless, he followed the Trainer’s suggestion and let the animal rest in the stable with the others. That morning, all of the troodons had superficial bite marks, and they seemed restless and would not make their deliveries. The original troodon was taken to a Trainer lab for quarantine and further testing. The results would be back in a few days.
The sentry was nearly to the end of a chapter when he heard a sharp call and slipped on the goggles to peer down at the moat edge. Out of the fog bank came a Struthiomimus guide and a pair of human VPS messengers on horseback, returning from a delivery run to a Trainer camp in the nearby forest. They always came at this time, and this would be one of the first and only real duties of the sentry’s shift. Closing his book and stuffing it in his leather pouch, he signaled to the messengers with his BioLumis flashlight and climbed down to the base of the wall, next to the door controls. He punched an entrance code into the console, unaware that he was being watched. He hit the activation key and a soft whirring sound could be heard.
In the moat outside, bubbles appeared on the surface as the grate platform rose to the surface. The Parasaurolophus herald rose from its slumber near the moat bank and produced a slow, muted night call through its long nasal horn. The iron gate rose slowly as the grating reached the level of the doorway. The horses walked across with the ostrich dinosaur following reluctantly.
“Cards, please,” the sentry said by habit, although he had seen the messengers before. They produced their Colonist ID cards and a traveltag of delivery sites. He glanced up at them. “Anything to report?”
“Well, we been passin’ through the Sunrise Woods on a shortcut comin’ back the Pav, and we seen all scalies , lots, shuffling their way toward the plains. All headin’ same way. Never seen. You never neither, yeah Tonker?”
The other messenger absently shook his head, and looked once more at their dinosaur guide. The animal seemed distracted, glancing back and forth incessantly. Finally, it returned his looks with an unnervingly steady gaze, never blinking. Tonker looked away and the first messenger spoke again.
“Yeah, our guide do acting abby normal since our little fight. See, we headin’ through thick, and tinies come out with bites, but no for horses. Guide, you see leg cuts. Yeah?”
He pointed at the slender legs of the Struthiomimus, which were covered in tiny lacerations. The guard nodded.
“You may pass. Punch your cards at the Traveltag autounit. The attendants are gone for the night. You may be called to file a witness report, but not tonight.”
“10-Q. The guide find back to stable solo. Have night.” The two messengers walked into the darkness, turning out of sight down an alley. The guard watched them leave, then turned back toward the entryway. The dinosaur in front of him reared up and slammed his face with its clawed foot. He stumbled and tumbled, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. The troodons slipped out of the darkness and fell upon him, their jaws tearing chunks of flesh from his neck and chest.
Out of the fog bank outside four grey shadows melted into view, moving incredibly fast toward the moat. The first Deinonychus reached the bank of the moat and launched itself into the air, claws outstretched. It landed on the neck of the Parasaurolophus and bit down as the other animals sailed through the air and stuck the back of the startled hadrosaur so hard the animal toppled on its side, splashing into the murky water. The raptors surfaced quickly and swam back to the sloping bank, their muscular tails propelling them through the water. A trail of bubbles appeared and made its way along the moat toward the main entrance gate.
The raptors climbed out of the water and were joined by three ankylosaurs that shuffled across the grating into the colony. A small Stygimoloch was close behind, snorting irritably as it passed the fallen sentry. The troodons joined with the animal and the raptors as they skirted the inner edge of the wall toward the Main Gate. At the Gate, a solitary guard stood on a small tower above the wall gazing into the night fog, and an operator sat slumbering in a chair to one side. Two of the raptors split up and leapt onto scaffolding set up on either side of the Gate, awkwardly climbing upwards toward the guard in the tower. The operator heard the soft scratching and woke up groggily. He glanced upward, saw the climbing raptors, and shot out of his seat. Before he could shout out, a shape sprinted out of the shadows. A battering ram slammed into his groin, and the wind was knocked out of him even as he heard his pelvis shatter. There was a searing pain in his stomach, and as the animal jerked its head to the side, he felt the soft coils of his own intestines slipping through his fingers. He looked up to see a domed head ringed with bloody horns as his world went black. He barely heard the screams of the guard above.
The troodons walked toward the towering wooden double doors, a giant gleaming crossbar stretching across them Two raptors braced against the beam, snarling with effort. The doors would have to be opened. There was simply no other choice. The troodons and the two raptors tore apart the glowing coils behind the control console, and a viscous fluid sprayed out under high pressure. The animals stepped away and one of the troodons stepped up to the console, an image emerging out of its subconscious. The animal suddenly could only see one button on the console, and pressed it. The raptors on the wall above let out a series of soft hooting cries that carried over the moat and into the fog beyond.
With a loud hiss, the drawbridge dropped toward the opposite bank of the moat. A Corythosaurus herald emerged from the murky water, staring confusedly at the bridge. A soft groaning marked the opening of its trumpet call, a blasting single note held for a full minute to herald the opening of the main Colony entrance. With an explosive burst of water, the herald call was cut short as the larger Parasaurolophus tackled the corythosaur and disappeared with it into the moat depths.
The moment the drawbridge touched the opposite bank, the ground began to shake. Out of the swirling mists came two charging silhouettes. The Triceratops bulls thundered across the heavy bridge and slammed into the thick oaken double doors. Their massive horns were thrust between the thick planks, just below the gleaming crossbar. With a loud grunting, the animals lifted its head, and the horns worked their way between the planks, lifting the bar clear of its supports. Three large pachycephalosaurs came sprinting across the bridge between and on either side of the ceratopsians, their bony reinforced skulls bent down so that their vertebral column formed a perfect horizontal line of shock absorbance. They hit the doors running at 20 miles per hour.
On the opposite side of the doors, the smaller dinosaurs leapt backwards as the metallic crossbeam sailed ten feet through the air from the impact on the other side and the heavy doors swung open. A huffing Triceratops appeared first, snapping its huge beak and glaring at the other dinosaurs. The pachys shook their heads to loosen them up and made their way down separate side streets, disappearing into the Colony to begin the campaign of devastation. A column of the larger dinosaurs began to cross the sturdy drawbridge, forming from the huge crowd of the animals now filling the plains outside the Colony. Two ankylosaurs lumbered through the gates and smashed through the walled entry passage to make way for approaching tyrannosaurs. There was a heavy crashing in the distance and a blaring siren sounded from unseen speakers.
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Doctor Curare sat in the glass cubicle as the people in the audience stared curiously at him. Few had actually heard the name before, but it was obvious from the reaction of the Council that he was a strange figure. He did not react to their stares or approach, but sat quietly awaiting the Council’s decision. He still had time, since both of his Teams were tracking the Junglefreak and there had been no reports of trouble or contact.
The glass floorless cube had dropped around him from the ceiling of the Grand Chamber as soon as Councilor Tarsoblat had announced a recess. An opaque barrier had dropped down to isolate the Council benches from the audience as well, and the members of the Council were deep in discussion. Cammy Devereaux had disclosed the news of Heph’s apparent fate, and the Council had reacted with stunned silence. Then the uproar came. The network of the Heroditus Club had only gotten word of the incident to the Valley that afternoon, and she had been hesitant to bring the subject up without verification. But… if the message had been sent through the communication channels of the Invisible College, then surely it was authentic. Cammy Devereaux did her best to explain the situation to the flustered Councilors and her fellow Advisors, while Doctor Curare stood silently watching their reactions. Then he was cut off from the rest of the room as the lengthy deliberations began.
Curare sat patiently, mulling over the events of the previous two days. The mysterious strike on the Layla. The Everglades explosion. By Uxmal, he had nearly forgotten about the Hermitage. The fate of Hephaestus Gryphon had been linked with the search for Bandito, and the Hermitage had fallen on the list of priorities. He would investigate the status of Wheel and his compatriots at the first opportunity to leave the Valley. He could establish a satlink to the Manaus ops center or a Peruvian temple from outside the perimeter. He needed to reestablish contact anyhow. Thoughts of contact reminded him of his Teams. He had requested radio silence, but for this long… He realized that the comlinks might not be able to broadcast through to the Grand Chamber from outside the Colony, despite their variable frequency and relative power.
Curare had his eyes closed, deep in thought. He could see flashes of color from behind his eyelids, and he opened them slowly. The Grand Chamber was bathed in a pulsating red glow from narrow bioluminescent bands along the curving walls. The people in the audience had begun to panic, rushing for the doors. The glass cubicle and the opaque Council barrier lifted automatically, the members of the Council on their feet. Guy Gibson began talking fast into his radio, the rapid exchange of codes incomprehensible to the others. Finally he turned to address the Council.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing a major saurian attack. All classes, not just the large carnosaurs. They have breached the major entrances and are assaulting the Colony. I advise you to remain indoors. If your abode is near and fortified, go there immediately. If not, I recommend you stay in the Chamber. Lady Muldoon?”
Alita was stunned for a moment, then snapped out of it and looked at him.
“I need you to alert all Trainer sectors. Find Trainer Rol--… find your father and get him to rally the Gwangi Raiders. And try to establish communication. There have to be some animals that are still under our control.”
Alita nearly spoke out about the notion of “control,” but bit her lip. She nodded and turned towards the door.
“Espere, Lady Muldoon. I can be of service now.” Doctor Curare
“What can you do against such an attack? You do not know our ways, and I cannot tell if you are trustworthy. Perhaps you should remain here under the Council’s supervision.”
“He can help us.” Curare was surprised to hear Cammy Devereaux speaking in his favor. “He has fought adversaries stranger than these. Correct, Doctor?”
“Yes,” Doctor Curare nodded solemnly. Then he gave a small grin. “But never so many! I may need my weapons back, Lady Muldoon.”
Alita looked from Devereaux to Curare, then shrugged noncommittally. “Very well. We are going to a Trainer station beyond the wall. We’ll take the subrail. Try and keep up, Doctor.”
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The pinpoint flashes of light and pain seared their way through the black fog of comfort. Something was trying to penetrate through. To obliterate the fog. To assault his very being. He resisted, but his struggle was futile. It was coming for him with a ferocious tenacity. It was consciousness.
Kiyagi’s eyes cracked open and he rolled onto his side, vomiting up a watery sludge. He was pushed onto his back as a red glaring eye fixed his gaze.
“Biosigns stabilizing, senorita. Pulse is lento but is quickening. There is delay in pupil contraccion, but is normal.” The Scout kept the pen scanner fixed on Kiyagi’s eye, and a series of electronic hums and beeps came from the device.
“Keep him monitored. Kiyagi, can you hear me?”
He groaned through the sickening taste of bile and debris from the river. His whole body ached from the shock he received and the slightly less-than-entertaining ride that he had somehow survived.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Ocelot flashed a slight smile and then checked her LCD micromonitor. “We fished you out of that river where we tracked your biotag. I thought something could be wrong when you and Flamenca took off in opposite directions. Now she’s on her way out of the Valley with Bandito, and you are barely alive, and the readouts of your Team flatlined. One hell of a lover’s quarrel, no? You want to tell me what happened?”
Kiyagi opened his mouth to speak, and his throat exploded with pain. Choking, he motioned for a canteen. A scout brought one to him and he drank deeply. Collapsing back onto the ground, he whispered a response.
“Interest… has Bandito…trap for us…ambush… “ He broke down into a fit of coughing and looked up at the startled Ocelot. “Flamenca…”
“She has a readout. It’s weak, so we thought she was tired. Maybe it’s worse, but she’s still alive. She’s moving with Bandito now.”
Kiyagi shook his head and spoke hoarsely. “The Interest has them. Both. Maldi-“ He erupted into another fit of coughing.
“Calmate. It’s time we call in. The Doc will know what to do. I hope…”
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Doctor Curare and Alita Muldoon rode the elevator up from the Trainer Ops subrail exit. The Ops complex was small, just a few scattered buildings and subterranean housing units for the Gwangi Raider vehicles. The Trainer Ops camp offered defense against saurian attack, which was only rarely encountered during interactions with some of the larger or more aggressive theropods. The Gwangi Raiders were volunteer members of the Trainer Association (many of whom were Rangers) who trained in nonlethal weapon use in addition to their civil responsibilities. They were a brave lot, having confronted danger in such forms as large allosaurs, swift raptors, and panicked herbivores. But never before had they faced so many, and of so many types.
As they walked through the camp, they could see signs of mobilization. Colonists were coming into the camp through secret entrances such as the subrail, bypassing the groups of dinosaurs surrounding the Colony walls. Alita smiled broadly as a middle-aged man stepped out of a low building, pulling the brim of his hat down. She rushed to embrace her father.
“I was afraid I would not see you. When did you hear of the attack?”
“I heard nothing. I was out for a ride when I saw the animals massing in the plains. It was a rough trip back, but my rifle came in handy.”
“What will you do now?”
“The Raiders are mobilizing. They will need a leader, and it is my duty to assume that responsibility. Besides, I could use some bloody exercise.”
“This is not a joke, father. You must be cautious. I want you to meet someone. This is Doctor…” she paused, looking to Curare.
“I know Doctor Campbell,” Roland Muldoon stated flatly, and Alita started. “It’s been some time, Doctor, but I find myself less than surprised that you found your way here.”
“Father, you know this man? But how?”
“Let me explain, Alita,” said Curare. “No, it is too much. Let me sum up. Mr. Muldoon was helping me investigate the potential for establishing nature preserves in Central America. Conservation and preservation are among my… chief interests.”
“Unfortunately,” Roland cut in, “there were some… significant problems with some of these preserves. Security, I believe.”
“Exactamente, Mr. Muldoon. I commend your attention to detail. And now we meet once again, in this wondrous place.”
“No doubt a land of opportunity for you, Campbell.” Muldoon’s polite façade was crumbling.
“I am not interested in exploitation, Senor Roland. At the moment we are facing a crisis, and I intend to lend my efforts to help those of the Valley. I am not looking for enemies.”
“We’ll see how your intentions pan out when the beasties come knocking. In the meantime, the Raiders have work to do.” Roland looked at his daughter, and kindness returned to his eyes. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Be careful.” Alita’s eyes teared.
Roland Muldoon strode out to an assault vehicle that looked like the illegitimate lovechild of a Jeep and a Panzer. He was not nearly as strict as others about avoiding lethal weaponry. “Mount up, Raiders! We roll in 5!”
“Sir, I’m not sure everyone’s ready…” came the nervous reply of a nearby man.
“Aw, you’re breaking my heart. Let’s get this moveable feast underway!”
Doctor Curare and Alita walked though the woods outside the compound. Above their heads, several large shadows passed. Curare spun to watch them disappear over the treetops.
“Quetzalcoatlus skybax,” he muttered vaguely.
“I am most impressed, Doctor. You are right, of course. The Trainers maintain a population of the magnificent Skybax. You know of these creatures?”
“Somewhat. I am more familiar with their namesake.” He smiled at Alita’s confusion.
“I will show you our population, but first I must help in the defense effort.” Alita walked to a large forest clearing and took out a subsonic whistle. Curare could not hear it, but he felt the vibrations in his fingertips. Then he felt other vibrations. Stronger vibrations.
The giant sauropods emerged from the depths of the old forest, where the trees were far enough apart for them to pass. With low rumbling bellows, they stopped before the woman clad in yellow. She gave a series of gestures and intermittent blows on the whistle. The sauropods gave long groaning calls that echoed through the surrounding woods as they turned to the side and began the long walk toward the Colony. Alita watched them leave with a smile on her face. Then she turned at last to face Curare.
“They are amazing creatures, yes? Follow me, and I will show you the Quetzalcoatlus colony. You may be able to help the Skybax Riders in their efforts. That is, if you’re not afraid of heights…” she grinned at him, her mood vastly improved since seeing her father.
“Very rarely, senorita.”
They reached a series of launch ramps, with a giant pterosaur perched atop each one. There were no Riders around, but Alita was certain more would be there shortly. She showed Curare the Skybax harness and how a Rider could guide the actions of these pterosaurs with subtle hints. She confessed an admiration for these people, who dared to do what she had never been confident enough to try.
Suddenly, Alita heard an incessant beeping from somewhere around them. Turning to Curare, she asked, “What is that sound?”
“Perdoname, senorita.” He stepped away from her and spoke softly into some sort of communicator on his wrist. As Alita watched, he let out a string of obscenities in Spanish, and his shoulders slumped, almost as if in defeat. Then he dropped his arm to his side, took a deep breath, and drew himself up to full height. Turning, he walked toward Alita with an expression that terrified her. It was a look of grim determination with an undercurrent of rage she had seen only once before. His father had that look upon his face the day her mother was killed. She took a step back as he strode up to her.
“Senorita Muldoon, I must go. I have no choice, and less time. I must go to my friends, who are in desperate need of my help.”
“You are not alone here. Somehow I thought I could believe at least one thing you told me.”
“Believe this, Alita. I will return. I give my word. Now, I was told to go to the north, to a swiftly flowing river. Do you know this river, senorita?”
“The Arturo River is the main Valley river to the north. But it will take many hours to reach the river on foot. It is difficult terrain.”
“Then I will enlist the help of a feathered serpent,” he said wryly as he started toward one of the launch ramps.
“Stop! None but the Skybax Riders can approach these creatures. They sense fear and inexperience as easily as we hear thunder.”
“I have no fear, and I am a fast learner.”
Curare walked quickly up the ramp, his actions smooth and confident. The pterosaur watched him approach, then turned and bent down
The animal beat its huge leathery wings and kicked up dust and dry leaves from the forest floor behind. It leapt off the platform at a word from Curare and climbed above the treeline, turning to glide toward the north and the Arturo River. Looking to the west, he could see a huge group of sauropods walking toward the distant Colony and the gathered dinosaurs through his Noctolenses. He could barely make out a group of Skybax Riders circling above a group of dinosaurs, diving and wheeling to drive the gathered theropods from the Colony.
From the north a group of small pterosaurs dove and attacked the giant fliers, swirling around the creatures to bite and scratch. One of the Riders pulled out a pistol and started picking the animals off one by one. Suddenly his Skybax pulled up and rolled upside down, executing a violent flip. The Rider fell off and plummeted to the earth. The giant pterosaur banked and screamed after another of the mounts, its giant wings beating fast. Curare knew what was coming and turned away. He could hear the whistling shrieks of approaching pterosaurs coming from behind him as he ducked toward his mount to increase their speed.
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Guy Gibson climbed into his modified Spitfire and spoke over the radio with his wingman, ace pilot Peter Watson.
“We hit the bridge. Most of the big bastards are coming in that way. We cut them off, and then start pinpoint target hits in the Colony. You ready for this?”
“Sure, Guy. Flight through the Colony is gonna be tricky, though. We’re going after dinos in the streets, or what?
“We’ll manage, Pete. Try to keep collateral damage to a minimum. Our priority is to help the Gwangi Raiders and Skybax Raiders as best we can. Here we go.”
The pilots slipped on their nightvision aviator goggles and took off from the Marlborough Squadron strip at the foot of Mount Jennifer to fly low over the Colony. As they neared the outer wall, they could see dinosaurs moving through the narrow streets, fanning out from the main entrance.
“I’ve got a clear run. Heading in.”
Guy dove low and swept over a group of ankylosaur and a solitary allosaur, the wing-mounted miniguns spraying a hailstorm of bullets through the group. The animals convulsed from the bullet hits and collapsed on the cobblestones.
“Those critters are toast. Nice shooting, Guy!”
“Elementary, Watson. We’ll circle back for a strafing run from the northeast and put the fear of God into these buggers.”
“Incoming, Guy. We have company from above. Nasty devils, too.”
A flock of pterosaurs folded their wings in close to their bodies in unison, diving swiftly at the passing planes. They accelerated and pulled out of the dive at high speed, right alongside the two planes. A Pteranodon veered hard and slammed into Watson’s fuselage, its heavy beak denting the metal.
“Well, fuck all! Split!” Gibson pulled away to the north, Watson to the south. The shrieking pterosaurs gave chase, the flock splitting apart as the animals wheeled to give chase. Guy Gibson weaved back and forth, pulling slowly away from his pursuers. Peter Watson pulled up and flew high into the air, the animals slow to follow. Watson arced and dove downward as Gibson banked around. Watson blasted some of the animals below him as he dove, then pulled up as the others fell in behind. Gibson and Watson flew right toward one another as the pterosaurs followed close behind each one.
“To the right?”
“Always. On three. One, two…THREE!”
Both pilots banked hard, the planes barely missing one another as they both opened fire. Gibson blasted clean through the pterosaurs behind Watson, weaving out of the hurricane of leathery wings. Watson hit four before one of the animals veered into his propellor. The animal splattered across his windshield and the propellor was smashed to bits.
“Shit! I’m hit, Gibson. They got me good. Bailing.”
“I’ll cover you! Get the hell out of there.” Gibson banked hard as Watson ejected out of his plane, diving into a tailspin high above the Colony. The pterosaurs dove after the wrecked plane for a few precious moments, but suddenly pulled up and began climbing back toward Watson and his parachute. Cursing to himself, he wished he had waited until he was closer to the ground. He heard Gibson’s plane coming as the first animal came close. The creature simply exploded in a barrage of bullets and the others scattered as the plane passed below Watson and dove down to take out more of the creatures. Watson’s plane smashed into a building below in a massive explosion that blinded him through the nightgoggles. He jerked his head away and stared into the dark sky as firecrackers exploded behind his eyes. Then he saw a Pteranodon coming in fast from above, and knew that Gibson wouldn’t make it. He steered the parachute away in desperation and felt how slow his descent was as sweat dripped down his goggles. He heard a shriek alarmingly close and unclipped from the parachute. He fell free and looked upward to see the green blur of the reptile pass through the space he had been a moment before, just below the crumpling parachute. He watched in a calm daze as the animal veered and folded its wings, dropping toward him. He looked down to see the ground coming up hard. He had to risk the spare chute, even though it was a gamble. He pulled the ripcord and the chute opened and held. For a split second he felt relief. Then there was a tremendous ripping sound as the falling Pteranodon plummeted through the canvas and struck him hard, knocking him unconscious. He never felt the ground rushing to meet him.
“WATSON!! You fucks! I’ll send you all screaming to Hell!” Gibson watched Watson fall with the tangled pterosaur and steered toward the heart of the group of remaining animals. He sent his plane into a barrel roll as he pressed hard on both wing triggers, and his plane spat a spiraling cyclone of gunfire at the flying beasts. He tore right through the main group and banked away, racing toward the drawbridge. No more of those demons would enter his city, if he could help it.
Guy Gibson banked over the top of the Colony wall and dove sharply, leveling off just above the height of the wall. Ahead he could see a large group of dinosaurs stomping across the metallic drawbridge. He fired at the dinosaurs, knocking them into the moat water. He flipped the red trigger cap off of the missile release. The Marlborough Squadron had not fired a missile in years. Not since… a shiver ran down his spine as he remembered the days when he fought alongside legends. Fighting against the ancient masters of the Valley. He had never imagined that Lord Gryphon could have equals, but he had seen them in those days. They liberated the people of the Valley and fought like warrior poets. For a time, he was reminded that giants walk the earth.
As Gibson flew beyond the teeming masses of dinosaurs at the Colony walls, he saw moving shapes on the horizon. The giant sauropods were making their way across the plains and through the forests toward the other dinosaurs. Gibson knew that these animals were the most integral part of the Trainer program and were normally loyal and gentle, but his fingers tightened on the trigger buttons as he scanned the groups of giants. Then he saw it. The first wave of Gwangi Raiders, traveling among the sauropods. Motorcycles, jet-powered ATVs, armored vehicles, and even horses could be seen weaving among the massive animals as they advanced toward the Colony. Guy Gibson grinned. The sauropods were still on their side.
“Finally! A spot of goddamned luck.”
______________________________________
“This is Jackson 3B-12. Requesting secure line.”
(A series of soft beeps and muted tones)
“Line secure. One moment please.” The female voice was smooth and natural. Almost indistinguishable from that of a human’s.
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, we have successfully completed Mission 65. We are standing by for data uplink to send files and images for review.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“Mission 65… Why don’t you refresh my memory, Jackson?”
“Sir, you assigned highest priority to the completion of this mission after the Amazon Basin attacks. We achieved Alpha Goal and secured a second acquisition. A woman, sir, suspected to be an Aztechnology member, perhaps high-ranking.”
“Ah. The attacks. Aztechnology, you say? That is fantastic. We shall arrange for her transport here at the earliest convenience.”
“Sir, your orders were to detain subjects at the Caracas station, and you would receive interrogation reports.”
“Consider the orders void. We will bring the woman here. And go ahead and ship any other acquisitions as well. That is all.”
“Sir, there is a concern about containment.”
“Explain, Jackson. And be brief.”
“Sir, the subject is currently sedated, but we do not know the full extent of its behavior.”
“She’s just a woman. Keep her under.”
“Not the woman, sir. Alpha Goal… one moment… We have just established the uplink. Sending the images to you now for review. Please hold.”
There was a long pause at the other end as the images relayed.
“Humor me, Jackson. Are you telling me that you have the creature in custody at your compound?”
“That is correct, sir. As per your request. It is sedated and precautions have been taken against known behavioral anomalies, but transport may be risky.”
“You are so right, Jackson. It would be much safer to keep the creature at your site. I will be on my way there shortly. I expect full progress reports and a review of the mission when I arrive.”
“Sir? You are coming here? You gave orders that your involvement be limited to remote link to avoid attention, Mr. Vice President.”
“Well, it seems that I have … changed my mind. T’aheeheehee!”
OK, gotta get through this thing. I will, I will. It’s like Marv, y’know? The story started bossin’ me around. Poor Bandito. He’s got it worse than Debbie.
I shall call him, “Mini-Me.”
Now here’s a little something I call
[LOWLY WRITER’S NOTE: Time for the Invisiverse’s biggest copout: A lack of imagination, inspiration, and little grey cells has resulted in my decision to adopt and warp suggestions of others concerning the population and machinations of the Colony. Therefore, the members of the High Council, a unique group that develops and implements policy decisions as well as serving as the governing body of the Valley in the occasional absence of Hephaestus Gryphon, include the following (taken directly from our “well-rounded” cigar-chomping Editor… heh):
* A citizen of the vast and powerful Iroquois Council, circa 1924.
* A member of the Anglo-Celt Resistance to the Egyptian Empire, 19th century.
* A Soviet literature censor born in Queens in the '60s.
* One of the last survivors of Earth-4241, where a Japanese icebreaker freed the Old Ones.
* A giant roach, citizen of *KK*Z-# at the height of the Rockies, mutated citizen of a nuclear post-apocalyptic Earth.
* A samurai from the entirely isolated and timeless island of Nippon, where the Peasant Revolution failed and they never left an agrarian daimyo system.
* A pirate of the Brethren of the Caribbean who fought in the Second World War against Nazi Europe.
* A bloodsport gladiator from Roman television.
* A 17th-century submariner.
* A crystal power technician from the Trans-Veldt Matriarchy.
* A Hindu ironlord.
There are Advisor positions for the following individuals:
Sky Commodore Guy Gibson, Head of Marlborough Squadron and Law Enforcement Division;
Cammy Devereaux, Paladin Marshal of the Heroditus Club and the Head of External Affairs Division;
Alita Muldoon, Representative of Trainer Association (in place of TA head Roland Muldoon, who intensely dislikes politics) and Internal Affairs Division
It should also be noted that I take no credit for the images to follow. If anyone is interested, I can dig up sources. And yes, I realize they are daytime pics for a night scene. They’re just for reference and fun. Please address all complaints to …
The Hand
321 Yermom Rd.
Wateva, LSR 90210
Thank you. That is all.]
______________________________________
INVASION
Doctor Curare and Alita Muldoon entered through the wide, arched doors of the Grand Chamber, and walked down the center aisle toward the multi-tiered Council benches. There was a small public audience gathered for the evening meeting, and Alita motioned for Curare to sit behind a solitary desk in front of the Council. She bowed before the Council members and walked to the side where three podiums stood. She took her place behind the far podium and a giant insectoid being stood as murmurs drifted through the audience. The creature’s wings expanded and vibrated with a deafening whir for a few moments. When the wings folded once more, the room was silent. It opened its curving mandibles and let out a raspy, chattering series of calls. There was a low hum from speakers mounted around the room and an electronic translator kicked in.
“Order. This meeting of the High Council is in session. We initiate our agenda with open calls for business items. The floor is open for five two-minute abstracts. Speak.”
Guy Gibson and Alita Muldoon stood at the same moment. The tall blattoid turned to regard them and whirred and clicked its mouthparts.
“Council recognizes Advisor Gibson in priority position. Speak.”
“If it pleases the Council, I wish to address an issue of Valley Security. I infer that my subject and that of Lady Muldoon are one and the same. We have an Outsider in our midst this evening, and I believe this to be of utmost concern. Unless I am mistaken, there have been no verified Outsider contacts in the past several years. Yes, I have heard rumors of such individuals, including reports of fresh activity at the Dacha. But these have not been confirmed, and this… man…”, he gestured toward the seated Curare, “… is now claiming to have come through the boundary and traveled on foot to our city without incident.”
“Do you believe this man to be false?” A man clad in bejeweled samurai armor stood and addressed Gibson, interrupting his time. A few of the Council members muttered amongst themselves, but most understood that certain rules could be bent in such exceptional circumstances.
“I believe he should be formally questioned about his identity and intentions, sir.”
“Doctor Sean Campbell has told me of his vocation in herbal healing, and I believe his word,” Alita spoke aloud and immediately fell silent, having breached etiquette. Her father would probably have done the same, but he was a more willful individual. The Council members regarded her for a moment; then the blattoid stood and spoke once more.
“The input of Representative Muldoon will be taken into consideration. Rise, Subject: Campbell.”
Doctor Curare rose to his feet and watched Cammy Devereaux eye him suspiciously. He looked straight at her and her eyes grew wide. She stood quickly as the insectoid prepared to address Curare. She bowed low as the chitinous head swiveled to meet her gaze.
“Lady Devereaux. You wish to speak?”
“I do, Councilor Tarsala. It concerns this man’s identity.”
“Your word in this matter should prove valuable. As a Representative of the External Affairs Division, it is only natural…” a tall Iroquois councilwoman spoke in a strong tone.
Tarsala spoke once again through the translator. “All in favor of suspending general interrogation of Subject: Campbell?”
A chorus of affirmative responses sounded through the Council members. One of the councilors looked rather moody about the whole proceeding, but the Brethren of the Caribbean did have a reputation for surliness.
“Lady Devereaux. The floor is yours.”
“Thank you, Councilors. It was not my intention of delaying your interrogation to any great extent, but I believe this man is not who he claims to be, and that his true identity may affect your interrogation.”
Alita Muldoon stood with an enraged look on her face. “Are you calling this man a liar?”
“Lady Muldoon,” the literature sensor spoke coldly, “you have only recently been appointed to this Advisor position, and it would be a shame for … youthful exuberance to hinder your future with us.”
Doctor Curare stepped forward quietly and waited. The Council members regarded him with interest for a moment, and then Tarsala spoke to Devereaux.
“You have the floor.”
“I yield the floor to Doctor Campbell, if it pleases the Council. I believe he speaks on this matter.”
“Subject: Campbell. Speak.”
“Gracias, Councilor. I contend that I have not been dishonest before you, but I was… predisposed toward omission. I did not know how full disclosure would affect my visit to this land. I am not interested in conflict. Only in gathering knowledge. I can see that the Valley is well-governed, in spite of all circumstances.”
“Get to the point, Doctor,” the pirate interrupted impatiently. “We govern this land in the absence of Lord Gryphon, whose ruling we accept whilst he is present. Now give us a name, ye landlubber, lest we cast you in the catacomb dungeon to await his return.”
Doctor Curare looked at the frowning faces. The pirate had not lied. Had news failed to reach a single member of the Council? Lastly, he gave Cammy Devereaux a hard, questioning look, as if prying for knowledge. She looked away for a moment. She knew.
“My name is Curare. And I bring tidings of great import and tragedy. Lady Devereaux will verify my words.”
______________________________________
The man put down the book and switched off the wristlamp, yawning and stretching out his arms. He had been on duty for less than an hour, but already he was fighting off fatigue. He hadn’t been sleeping well the past few days, with recurring nightmares about a living dinette set and a stray cat with leather boots. He’d never worked the night shift before, and sleeping during the day was difficult. The night shift was slow, with most activity near the Colony margins dropping off around midnight. Of course, there were psychedelic mage clubs, all-night Wuxia teahouses, Elizabethan Era pubs, Elvin techno parties, and a bizarre array of alternate nightlife possibilities in the interior. But there was no such excitement on the wall parapets.
The sentry dressed in a Buckingham Palace guard uniform raised the nightvision goggles to his face. Not that they made a bit of difference. He couldn’t see a thing. On nights such as this, a dense fog bank rolled down from the mountain soon after his shift began. It filtered through the Colony and settled over the low plains beyond the walls. It made for a long and boring night. The man set the goggles down and once more picked up his Mandarin copy of Pride and Prejudice.
In a darkened cobblestone alley, a wooden door creaked slowly open as a troodon pushed hard against it. Four others followed close behind, their behavior following a precise timing. These dinosaurs were messengers for Valley Parcel Service, a private post service serving the Colony and settlements outside (to send messages and packages as far as the Dacha or Bronto Pavillion, people used Valley Express). The troodons were among the most intelligent dinosaurs, and had excellent capacities for memory. Each animal had a memory of certain Colony neighborhoods, as well as a schedule of delivery times. The VPS supervisors often found them as reliable as human workers, and they were willing to work for scraps, literally. One of the animals had returned to the VPS stable with scratches and bite marks the previous night. A Trainer medic had been called in, but found no sign of disease. The animal had probably been attacked while outside the Colony walls, the medic had said before he left. This was troubling to the supervisor, since this animal had been assigned to one of the upland neighborhoods, at the base of Mount Jennifer. This animal was far from any of the walls and should not have gotten outside at all. Nevertheless, he followed the Trainer’s suggestion and let the animal rest in the stable with the others. That morning, all of the troodons had superficial bite marks, and they seemed restless and would not make their deliveries. The original troodon was taken to a Trainer lab for quarantine and further testing. The results would be back in a few days.
The sentry was nearly to the end of a chapter when he heard a sharp call and slipped on the goggles to peer down at the moat edge. Out of the fog bank came a Struthiomimus guide and a pair of human VPS messengers on horseback, returning from a delivery run to a Trainer camp in the nearby forest. They always came at this time, and this would be one of the first and only real duties of the sentry’s shift. Closing his book and stuffing it in his leather pouch, he signaled to the messengers with his BioLumis flashlight and climbed down to the base of the wall, next to the door controls. He punched an entrance code into the console, unaware that he was being watched. He hit the activation key and a soft whirring sound could be heard.
In the moat outside, bubbles appeared on the surface as the grate platform rose to the surface. The Parasaurolophus herald rose from its slumber near the moat bank and produced a slow, muted night call through its long nasal horn. The iron gate rose slowly as the grating reached the level of the doorway. The horses walked across with the ostrich dinosaur following reluctantly.
“Cards, please,” the sentry said by habit, although he had seen the messengers before. They produced their Colonist ID cards and a traveltag of delivery sites. He glanced up at them. “Anything to report?”
“Well, we been passin’ through the Sunrise Woods on a shortcut comin’ back the Pav, and we seen all scalies , lots, shuffling their way toward the plains. All headin’ same way. Never seen. You never neither, yeah Tonker?”
The other messenger absently shook his head, and looked once more at their dinosaur guide. The animal seemed distracted, glancing back and forth incessantly. Finally, it returned his looks with an unnervingly steady gaze, never blinking. Tonker looked away and the first messenger spoke again.
“Yeah, our guide do acting abby normal since our little fight. See, we headin’ through thick, and tinies come out with bites, but no for horses. Guide, you see leg cuts. Yeah?”
He pointed at the slender legs of the Struthiomimus, which were covered in tiny lacerations. The guard nodded.
“You may pass. Punch your cards at the Traveltag autounit. The attendants are gone for the night. You may be called to file a witness report, but not tonight.”
“10-Q. The guide find back to stable solo. Have night.” The two messengers walked into the darkness, turning out of sight down an alley. The guard watched them leave, then turned back toward the entryway. The dinosaur in front of him reared up and slammed his face with its clawed foot. He stumbled and tumbled, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. The troodons slipped out of the darkness and fell upon him, their jaws tearing chunks of flesh from his neck and chest.
Out of the fog bank outside four grey shadows melted into view, moving incredibly fast toward the moat. The first Deinonychus reached the bank of the moat and launched itself into the air, claws outstretched. It landed on the neck of the Parasaurolophus and bit down as the other animals sailed through the air and stuck the back of the startled hadrosaur so hard the animal toppled on its side, splashing into the murky water. The raptors surfaced quickly and swam back to the sloping bank, their muscular tails propelling them through the water. A trail of bubbles appeared and made its way along the moat toward the main entrance gate.
The raptors climbed out of the water and were joined by three ankylosaurs that shuffled across the grating into the colony. A small Stygimoloch was close behind, snorting irritably as it passed the fallen sentry. The troodons joined with the animal and the raptors as they skirted the inner edge of the wall toward the Main Gate. At the Gate, a solitary guard stood on a small tower above the wall gazing into the night fog, and an operator sat slumbering in a chair to one side. Two of the raptors split up and leapt onto scaffolding set up on either side of the Gate, awkwardly climbing upwards toward the guard in the tower. The operator heard the soft scratching and woke up groggily. He glanced upward, saw the climbing raptors, and shot out of his seat. Before he could shout out, a shape sprinted out of the shadows. A battering ram slammed into his groin, and the wind was knocked out of him even as he heard his pelvis shatter. There was a searing pain in his stomach, and as the animal jerked its head to the side, he felt the soft coils of his own intestines slipping through his fingers. He looked up to see a domed head ringed with bloody horns as his world went black. He barely heard the screams of the guard above.
The troodons walked toward the towering wooden double doors, a giant gleaming crossbar stretching across them Two raptors braced against the beam, snarling with effort. The doors would have to be opened. There was simply no other choice. The troodons and the two raptors tore apart the glowing coils behind the control console, and a viscous fluid sprayed out under high pressure. The animals stepped away and one of the troodons stepped up to the console, an image emerging out of its subconscious. The animal suddenly could only see one button on the console, and pressed it. The raptors on the wall above let out a series of soft hooting cries that carried over the moat and into the fog beyond.
With a loud hiss, the drawbridge dropped toward the opposite bank of the moat. A Corythosaurus herald emerged from the murky water, staring confusedly at the bridge. A soft groaning marked the opening of its trumpet call, a blasting single note held for a full minute to herald the opening of the main Colony entrance. With an explosive burst of water, the herald call was cut short as the larger Parasaurolophus tackled the corythosaur and disappeared with it into the moat depths.
The moment the drawbridge touched the opposite bank, the ground began to shake. Out of the swirling mists came two charging silhouettes. The Triceratops bulls thundered across the heavy bridge and slammed into the thick oaken double doors. Their massive horns were thrust between the thick planks, just below the gleaming crossbar. With a loud grunting, the animals lifted its head, and the horns worked their way between the planks, lifting the bar clear of its supports. Three large pachycephalosaurs came sprinting across the bridge between and on either side of the ceratopsians, their bony reinforced skulls bent down so that their vertebral column formed a perfect horizontal line of shock absorbance. They hit the doors running at 20 miles per hour.
On the opposite side of the doors, the smaller dinosaurs leapt backwards as the metallic crossbeam sailed ten feet through the air from the impact on the other side and the heavy doors swung open. A huffing Triceratops appeared first, snapping its huge beak and glaring at the other dinosaurs. The pachys shook their heads to loosen them up and made their way down separate side streets, disappearing into the Colony to begin the campaign of devastation. A column of the larger dinosaurs began to cross the sturdy drawbridge, forming from the huge crowd of the animals now filling the plains outside the Colony. Two ankylosaurs lumbered through the gates and smashed through the walled entry passage to make way for approaching tyrannosaurs. There was a heavy crashing in the distance and a blaring siren sounded from unseen speakers.
______________________________________
Doctor Curare sat in the glass cubicle as the people in the audience stared curiously at him. Few had actually heard the name before, but it was obvious from the reaction of the Council that he was a strange figure. He did not react to their stares or approach, but sat quietly awaiting the Council’s decision. He still had time, since both of his Teams were tracking the Junglefreak and there had been no reports of trouble or contact.
The glass floorless cube had dropped around him from the ceiling of the Grand Chamber as soon as Councilor Tarsoblat had announced a recess. An opaque barrier had dropped down to isolate the Council benches from the audience as well, and the members of the Council were deep in discussion. Cammy Devereaux had disclosed the news of Heph’s apparent fate, and the Council had reacted with stunned silence. Then the uproar came. The network of the Heroditus Club had only gotten word of the incident to the Valley that afternoon, and she had been hesitant to bring the subject up without verification. But… if the message had been sent through the communication channels of the Invisible College, then surely it was authentic. Cammy Devereaux did her best to explain the situation to the flustered Councilors and her fellow Advisors, while Doctor Curare stood silently watching their reactions. Then he was cut off from the rest of the room as the lengthy deliberations began.
Curare sat patiently, mulling over the events of the previous two days. The mysterious strike on the Layla. The Everglades explosion. By Uxmal, he had nearly forgotten about the Hermitage. The fate of Hephaestus Gryphon had been linked with the search for Bandito, and the Hermitage had fallen on the list of priorities. He would investigate the status of Wheel and his compatriots at the first opportunity to leave the Valley. He could establish a satlink to the Manaus ops center or a Peruvian temple from outside the perimeter. He needed to reestablish contact anyhow. Thoughts of contact reminded him of his Teams. He had requested radio silence, but for this long… He realized that the comlinks might not be able to broadcast through to the Grand Chamber from outside the Colony, despite their variable frequency and relative power.
Curare had his eyes closed, deep in thought. He could see flashes of color from behind his eyelids, and he opened them slowly. The Grand Chamber was bathed in a pulsating red glow from narrow bioluminescent bands along the curving walls. The people in the audience had begun to panic, rushing for the doors. The glass cubicle and the opaque Council barrier lifted automatically, the members of the Council on their feet. Guy Gibson began talking fast into his radio, the rapid exchange of codes incomprehensible to the others. Finally he turned to address the Council.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing a major saurian attack. All classes, not just the large carnosaurs. They have breached the major entrances and are assaulting the Colony. I advise you to remain indoors. If your abode is near and fortified, go there immediately. If not, I recommend you stay in the Chamber. Lady Muldoon?”
Alita was stunned for a moment, then snapped out of it and looked at him.
“I need you to alert all Trainer sectors. Find Trainer Rol--… find your father and get him to rally the Gwangi Raiders. And try to establish communication. There have to be some animals that are still under our control.”
Alita nearly spoke out about the notion of “control,” but bit her lip. She nodded and turned towards the door.
“Espere, Lady Muldoon. I can be of service now.” Doctor Curare
“What can you do against such an attack? You do not know our ways, and I cannot tell if you are trustworthy. Perhaps you should remain here under the Council’s supervision.”
“He can help us.” Curare was surprised to hear Cammy Devereaux speaking in his favor. “He has fought adversaries stranger than these. Correct, Doctor?”
“Yes,” Doctor Curare nodded solemnly. Then he gave a small grin. “But never so many! I may need my weapons back, Lady Muldoon.”
Alita looked from Devereaux to Curare, then shrugged noncommittally. “Very well. We are going to a Trainer station beyond the wall. We’ll take the subrail. Try and keep up, Doctor.”
______________________________________
The pinpoint flashes of light and pain seared their way through the black fog of comfort. Something was trying to penetrate through. To obliterate the fog. To assault his very being. He resisted, but his struggle was futile. It was coming for him with a ferocious tenacity. It was consciousness.
Kiyagi’s eyes cracked open and he rolled onto his side, vomiting up a watery sludge. He was pushed onto his back as a red glaring eye fixed his gaze.
“Biosigns stabilizing, senorita. Pulse is lento but is quickening. There is delay in pupil contraccion, but is normal.” The Scout kept the pen scanner fixed on Kiyagi’s eye, and a series of electronic hums and beeps came from the device.
“Keep him monitored. Kiyagi, can you hear me?”
He groaned through the sickening taste of bile and debris from the river. His whole body ached from the shock he received and the slightly less-than-entertaining ride that he had somehow survived.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Ocelot flashed a slight smile and then checked her LCD micromonitor. “We fished you out of that river where we tracked your biotag. I thought something could be wrong when you and Flamenca took off in opposite directions. Now she’s on her way out of the Valley with Bandito, and you are barely alive, and the readouts of your Team flatlined. One hell of a lover’s quarrel, no? You want to tell me what happened?”
Kiyagi opened his mouth to speak, and his throat exploded with pain. Choking, he motioned for a canteen. A scout brought one to him and he drank deeply. Collapsing back onto the ground, he whispered a response.
“Interest… has Bandito…trap for us…ambush… “ He broke down into a fit of coughing and looked up at the startled Ocelot. “Flamenca…”
“She has a readout. It’s weak, so we thought she was tired. Maybe it’s worse, but she’s still alive. She’s moving with Bandito now.”
Kiyagi shook his head and spoke hoarsely. “The Interest has them. Both. Maldi-“ He erupted into another fit of coughing.
“Calmate. It’s time we call in. The Doc will know what to do. I hope…”
______________________________________
Doctor Curare and Alita Muldoon rode the elevator up from the Trainer Ops subrail exit. The Ops complex was small, just a few scattered buildings and subterranean housing units for the Gwangi Raider vehicles. The Trainer Ops camp offered defense against saurian attack, which was only rarely encountered during interactions with some of the larger or more aggressive theropods. The Gwangi Raiders were volunteer members of the Trainer Association (many of whom were Rangers) who trained in nonlethal weapon use in addition to their civil responsibilities. They were a brave lot, having confronted danger in such forms as large allosaurs, swift raptors, and panicked herbivores. But never before had they faced so many, and of so many types.
As they walked through the camp, they could see signs of mobilization. Colonists were coming into the camp through secret entrances such as the subrail, bypassing the groups of dinosaurs surrounding the Colony walls. Alita smiled broadly as a middle-aged man stepped out of a low building, pulling the brim of his hat down. She rushed to embrace her father.
“I was afraid I would not see you. When did you hear of the attack?”
“I heard nothing. I was out for a ride when I saw the animals massing in the plains. It was a rough trip back, but my rifle came in handy.”
“What will you do now?”
“The Raiders are mobilizing. They will need a leader, and it is my duty to assume that responsibility. Besides, I could use some bloody exercise.”
“This is not a joke, father. You must be cautious. I want you to meet someone. This is Doctor…” she paused, looking to Curare.
“I know Doctor Campbell,” Roland Muldoon stated flatly, and Alita started. “It’s been some time, Doctor, but I find myself less than surprised that you found your way here.”
“Father, you know this man? But how?”
“Let me explain, Alita,” said Curare. “No, it is too much. Let me sum up. Mr. Muldoon was helping me investigate the potential for establishing nature preserves in Central America. Conservation and preservation are among my… chief interests.”
“Unfortunately,” Roland cut in, “there were some… significant problems with some of these preserves. Security, I believe.”
“Exactamente, Mr. Muldoon. I commend your attention to detail. And now we meet once again, in this wondrous place.”
“No doubt a land of opportunity for you, Campbell.” Muldoon’s polite façade was crumbling.
“I am not interested in exploitation, Senor Roland. At the moment we are facing a crisis, and I intend to lend my efforts to help those of the Valley. I am not looking for enemies.”
“We’ll see how your intentions pan out when the beasties come knocking. In the meantime, the Raiders have work to do.” Roland looked at his daughter, and kindness returned to his eyes. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Be careful.” Alita’s eyes teared.
Roland Muldoon strode out to an assault vehicle that looked like the illegitimate lovechild of a Jeep and a Panzer. He was not nearly as strict as others about avoiding lethal weaponry. “Mount up, Raiders! We roll in 5!”
“Sir, I’m not sure everyone’s ready…” came the nervous reply of a nearby man.
“Aw, you’re breaking my heart. Let’s get this moveable feast underway!”
Doctor Curare and Alita walked though the woods outside the compound. Above their heads, several large shadows passed. Curare spun to watch them disappear over the treetops.
“Quetzalcoatlus skybax,” he muttered vaguely.
“I am most impressed, Doctor. You are right, of course. The Trainers maintain a population of the magnificent Skybax. You know of these creatures?”
“Somewhat. I am more familiar with their namesake.” He smiled at Alita’s confusion.
“I will show you our population, but first I must help in the defense effort.” Alita walked to a large forest clearing and took out a subsonic whistle. Curare could not hear it, but he felt the vibrations in his fingertips. Then he felt other vibrations. Stronger vibrations.
The giant sauropods emerged from the depths of the old forest, where the trees were far enough apart for them to pass. With low rumbling bellows, they stopped before the woman clad in yellow. She gave a series of gestures and intermittent blows on the whistle. The sauropods gave long groaning calls that echoed through the surrounding woods as they turned to the side and began the long walk toward the Colony. Alita watched them leave with a smile on her face. Then she turned at last to face Curare.
“They are amazing creatures, yes? Follow me, and I will show you the Quetzalcoatlus colony. You may be able to help the Skybax Riders in their efforts. That is, if you’re not afraid of heights…” she grinned at him, her mood vastly improved since seeing her father.
“Very rarely, senorita.”
They reached a series of launch ramps, with a giant pterosaur perched atop each one. There were no Riders around, but Alita was certain more would be there shortly. She showed Curare the Skybax harness and how a Rider could guide the actions of these pterosaurs with subtle hints. She confessed an admiration for these people, who dared to do what she had never been confident enough to try.
Suddenly, Alita heard an incessant beeping from somewhere around them. Turning to Curare, she asked, “What is that sound?”
“Perdoname, senorita.” He stepped away from her and spoke softly into some sort of communicator on his wrist. As Alita watched, he let out a string of obscenities in Spanish, and his shoulders slumped, almost as if in defeat. Then he dropped his arm to his side, took a deep breath, and drew himself up to full height. Turning, he walked toward Alita with an expression that terrified her. It was a look of grim determination with an undercurrent of rage she had seen only once before. His father had that look upon his face the day her mother was killed. She took a step back as he strode up to her.
“Senorita Muldoon, I must go. I have no choice, and less time. I must go to my friends, who are in desperate need of my help.”
“You are not alone here. Somehow I thought I could believe at least one thing you told me.”
“Believe this, Alita. I will return. I give my word. Now, I was told to go to the north, to a swiftly flowing river. Do you know this river, senorita?”
“The Arturo River is the main Valley river to the north. But it will take many hours to reach the river on foot. It is difficult terrain.”
“Then I will enlist the help of a feathered serpent,” he said wryly as he started toward one of the launch ramps.
“Stop! None but the Skybax Riders can approach these creatures. They sense fear and inexperience as easily as we hear thunder.”
“I have no fear, and I am a fast learner.”
Curare walked quickly up the ramp, his actions smooth and confident. The pterosaur watched him approach, then turned and bent down
The animal beat its huge leathery wings and kicked up dust and dry leaves from the forest floor behind. It leapt off the platform at a word from Curare and climbed above the treeline, turning to glide toward the north and the Arturo River. Looking to the west, he could see a huge group of sauropods walking toward the distant Colony and the gathered dinosaurs through his Noctolenses. He could barely make out a group of Skybax Riders circling above a group of dinosaurs, diving and wheeling to drive the gathered theropods from the Colony.
From the north a group of small pterosaurs dove and attacked the giant fliers, swirling around the creatures to bite and scratch. One of the Riders pulled out a pistol and started picking the animals off one by one. Suddenly his Skybax pulled up and rolled upside down, executing a violent flip. The Rider fell off and plummeted to the earth. The giant pterosaur banked and screamed after another of the mounts, its giant wings beating fast. Curare knew what was coming and turned away. He could hear the whistling shrieks of approaching pterosaurs coming from behind him as he ducked toward his mount to increase their speed.
______________________________________
Guy Gibson climbed into his modified Spitfire and spoke over the radio with his wingman, ace pilot Peter Watson.
“We hit the bridge. Most of the big bastards are coming in that way. We cut them off, and then start pinpoint target hits in the Colony. You ready for this?”
“Sure, Guy. Flight through the Colony is gonna be tricky, though. We’re going after dinos in the streets, or what?
“We’ll manage, Pete. Try to keep collateral damage to a minimum. Our priority is to help the Gwangi Raiders and Skybax Raiders as best we can. Here we go.”
The pilots slipped on their nightvision aviator goggles and took off from the Marlborough Squadron strip at the foot of Mount Jennifer to fly low over the Colony. As they neared the outer wall, they could see dinosaurs moving through the narrow streets, fanning out from the main entrance.
“I’ve got a clear run. Heading in.”
Guy dove low and swept over a group of ankylosaur and a solitary allosaur, the wing-mounted miniguns spraying a hailstorm of bullets through the group. The animals convulsed from the bullet hits and collapsed on the cobblestones.
“Those critters are toast. Nice shooting, Guy!”
“Elementary, Watson. We’ll circle back for a strafing run from the northeast and put the fear of God into these buggers.”
“Incoming, Guy. We have company from above. Nasty devils, too.”
A flock of pterosaurs folded their wings in close to their bodies in unison, diving swiftly at the passing planes. They accelerated and pulled out of the dive at high speed, right alongside the two planes. A Pteranodon veered hard and slammed into Watson’s fuselage, its heavy beak denting the metal.
“Well, fuck all! Split!” Gibson pulled away to the north, Watson to the south. The shrieking pterosaurs gave chase, the flock splitting apart as the animals wheeled to give chase. Guy Gibson weaved back and forth, pulling slowly away from his pursuers. Peter Watson pulled up and flew high into the air, the animals slow to follow. Watson arced and dove downward as Gibson banked around. Watson blasted some of the animals below him as he dove, then pulled up as the others fell in behind. Gibson and Watson flew right toward one another as the pterosaurs followed close behind each one.
“To the right?”
“Always. On three. One, two…THREE!”
Both pilots banked hard, the planes barely missing one another as they both opened fire. Gibson blasted clean through the pterosaurs behind Watson, weaving out of the hurricane of leathery wings. Watson hit four before one of the animals veered into his propellor. The animal splattered across his windshield and the propellor was smashed to bits.
“Shit! I’m hit, Gibson. They got me good. Bailing.”
“I’ll cover you! Get the hell out of there.” Gibson banked hard as Watson ejected out of his plane, diving into a tailspin high above the Colony. The pterosaurs dove after the wrecked plane for a few precious moments, but suddenly pulled up and began climbing back toward Watson and his parachute. Cursing to himself, he wished he had waited until he was closer to the ground. He heard Gibson’s plane coming as the first animal came close. The creature simply exploded in a barrage of bullets and the others scattered as the plane passed below Watson and dove down to take out more of the creatures. Watson’s plane smashed into a building below in a massive explosion that blinded him through the nightgoggles. He jerked his head away and stared into the dark sky as firecrackers exploded behind his eyes. Then he saw a Pteranodon coming in fast from above, and knew that Gibson wouldn’t make it. He steered the parachute away in desperation and felt how slow his descent was as sweat dripped down his goggles. He heard a shriek alarmingly close and unclipped from the parachute. He fell free and looked upward to see the green blur of the reptile pass through the space he had been a moment before, just below the crumpling parachute. He watched in a calm daze as the animal veered and folded its wings, dropping toward him. He looked down to see the ground coming up hard. He had to risk the spare chute, even though it was a gamble. He pulled the ripcord and the chute opened and held. For a split second he felt relief. Then there was a tremendous ripping sound as the falling Pteranodon plummeted through the canvas and struck him hard, knocking him unconscious. He never felt the ground rushing to meet him.
“WATSON!! You fucks! I’ll send you all screaming to Hell!” Gibson watched Watson fall with the tangled pterosaur and steered toward the heart of the group of remaining animals. He sent his plane into a barrel roll as he pressed hard on both wing triggers, and his plane spat a spiraling cyclone of gunfire at the flying beasts. He tore right through the main group and banked away, racing toward the drawbridge. No more of those demons would enter his city, if he could help it.
Guy Gibson banked over the top of the Colony wall and dove sharply, leveling off just above the height of the wall. Ahead he could see a large group of dinosaurs stomping across the metallic drawbridge. He fired at the dinosaurs, knocking them into the moat water. He flipped the red trigger cap off of the missile release. The Marlborough Squadron had not fired a missile in years. Not since… a shiver ran down his spine as he remembered the days when he fought alongside legends. Fighting against the ancient masters of the Valley. He had never imagined that Lord Gryphon could have equals, but he had seen them in those days. They liberated the people of the Valley and fought like warrior poets. For a time, he was reminded that giants walk the earth.
As Gibson flew beyond the teeming masses of dinosaurs at the Colony walls, he saw moving shapes on the horizon. The giant sauropods were making their way across the plains and through the forests toward the other dinosaurs. Gibson knew that these animals were the most integral part of the Trainer program and were normally loyal and gentle, but his fingers tightened on the trigger buttons as he scanned the groups of giants. Then he saw it. The first wave of Gwangi Raiders, traveling among the sauropods. Motorcycles, jet-powered ATVs, armored vehicles, and even horses could be seen weaving among the massive animals as they advanced toward the Colony. Guy Gibson grinned. The sauropods were still on their side.
“Finally! A spot of goddamned luck.”
______________________________________
“This is Jackson 3B-12. Requesting secure line.”
(A series of soft beeps and muted tones)
“Line secure. One moment please.” The female voice was smooth and natural. Almost indistinguishable from that of a human’s.
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, we have successfully completed Mission 65. We are standing by for data uplink to send files and images for review.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“Mission 65… Why don’t you refresh my memory, Jackson?”
“Sir, you assigned highest priority to the completion of this mission after the Amazon Basin attacks. We achieved Alpha Goal and secured a second acquisition. A woman, sir, suspected to be an Aztechnology member, perhaps high-ranking.”
“Ah. The attacks. Aztechnology, you say? That is fantastic. We shall arrange for her transport here at the earliest convenience.”
“Sir, your orders were to detain subjects at the Caracas station, and you would receive interrogation reports.”
“Consider the orders void. We will bring the woman here. And go ahead and ship any other acquisitions as well. That is all.”
“Sir, there is a concern about containment.”
“Explain, Jackson. And be brief.”
“Sir, the subject is currently sedated, but we do not know the full extent of its behavior.”
“She’s just a woman. Keep her under.”
“Not the woman, sir. Alpha Goal… one moment… We have just established the uplink. Sending the images to you now for review. Please hold.”
There was a long pause at the other end as the images relayed.
“Humor me, Jackson. Are you telling me that you have the creature in custody at your compound?”
“That is correct, sir. As per your request. It is sedated and precautions have been taken against known behavioral anomalies, but transport may be risky.”
“You are so right, Jackson. It would be much safer to keep the creature at your site. I will be on my way there shortly. I expect full progress reports and a review of the mission when I arrive.”
“Sir? You are coming here? You gave orders that your involvement be limited to remote link to avoid attention, Mr. Vice President.”
“Well, it seems that I have … changed my mind. T’aheeheehee!”
OK, gotta get through this thing. I will, I will. It’s like Marv, y’know? The story started bossin’ me around. Poor Bandito. He’s got it worse than Debbie.