Adrift in Space

"Sounds delish," Peter had said and the briefer had practically beamed. Detecting English sarcasm was not an apparent strength. At that moment a female Sylvan pushed a small cart covered by a blanket into the room. The male nodded at her as he left.

"My name is Olivia," the female pulled the blanket away to reveal an assortment of firearms, "I'm your armorer."

"Olivia? We have an Oliver. Why the hell," Peter grumbled as he walked to the cart, "don't you have enough names? Someone tell the Queen to have them get a Thousand and One Baby Names book next time someone goes to Earth."

That got a few laughs although the timbre was a bit odd to Peter's ears. He shrugged. Nerves.

"Since the game assumes you're trained," Olivia said, "I'll give you a quick lesson on the weapons."

"No ray guns?" She snorted and shook her head at Peter's question.

"Ok, then," he said, "bazookas?"

She picked up a pistol and offered it to him.

"9 millimeter," Peter grumped, "what do I do with this? Tickle them?"

He accepted it and extracted the magazine, saw it was empty and set it on the cart. He pulled the slide, saw it was also empty and pushed it into place before he slid it slightly and fingered the lock and quickly pulled the slide and barrel out. His teammates goggled at him and Olivia glared.

"Ok, smart ass human," she bent down behind the cart and stood with a rifle in her arms. Peter squinted at it for a moment.

"That's not a 30-06," he smiled as he took it from her and checked the feed, made sure it was empty, before he pulled it to his shoulder.

"Based on a Mauser 98," Olivia said, "uses 416 Rigby big-game cartridges firing 400 grain bullets. 2,400 feet per second muzzle velocity. Bolt action, magazines hold five rounds."

"This might, just might, fuck up a T-Rex's day," he said as he worked the bolt and sighted at the wall.

"If you hit it perfectly," she shrugged, "however the hell that is."

"Iris, come here," Peter said. She had a doubtful look as she approached, he handed her the rifle and she grunted.

"You'll be carrying that fifty miles," her expression made clear she suddenly had second thoughts about the whole endeavor as Brittany walked up and took it from her and roughly replicated Peter's stance.

"Like this, bitch, you are weak. You have nothing to offer him."

Iris's growl was stopped when Peter plunked an AK-47 in her hands.

"Ok, everyone," he said, "these are the only hope for most of you, spray and pray."

Olivia laughed.

"Once in the game you'll have these weapons to choose from. You'll have to carry whatever ammunition you plan to use. It'll be in actual magazines, it WILL fire. Only difference is no actual bullets."

"Do we get practice fire here?" Peter asked.

"No," she laughed again, he snorted. The two of them spent ten minutes and he hoped his team understood at least which was the business end.

And to not point them at each other. Something he'd had to remind Brittany and Iris about a couple of times.

It was going to be a fun two days.

The plot was simple. It reimagined the first Sylvan expedition arriving in the late Cretaceous. Unlike their success in reality, the attempt by the Golden Criminals to sabotage the starship had partially failed but that pair had fled to the coastal plain east of the young Rocky Mountains in North America in a shuttle and had landed in an area full of T-Rexes, Triceratops, various sauropods and others. Indications were they'd been eaten in a moment of poetic justice but their shuttle was apparently undamaged.

Peter, Brittany and their team had pursued them in a second shuttle but the criminals had sabotaged it and the opening of the game was having to crash land the shuttle, you could get it as close as thirty miles from the other shuttle or as far as a hundred. With only the equivalent of rifles and pistols and only the ammunition they could carry the team needed to get to the other shuttle. The crew on the ship in orbit had to fight to save the starship so help wouldn't come from that quarter.

The expedition had a suite of satellites like the Global Positioning System that humans had just started building but the sabotage had left no time to deploy them. Thus, navigation was a padlet with a map and a built-in compass. Fortunately, they also had a paper map and a regular compass. Just in case. Also fortunately the Earth's magnetic field's polarity at this time matched the current day's. He needed to send them north by northwest to an area in modern day called Hell Creek.

Oh, goody. Known from some of the richest fossil beds on Earth to have been rife with large and no doubt bad tempered beasts with mouths full of razor sharp teeth.

On top of it all, for this setting the expedition had spotted an incoming asteroid that would strike in just over two days. Peter had mentioned he'd read about a theory that such an asteroid had caused the extinction of the dinosaurs but Earth's scientists had so far not accepted it. Using her instruments and high vantage point, the geologist Catanie had found a hidden crater in the Yucatan peninsula. Peter had dug up not-widely-read papers reporting anomalous readings from that spot with an age that matched the extinction date. Peter had tried to convince Queen Anna to let them publish a paper about it but she'd refused. Rather, he had an agent argue for it from an anonymous account on Usenet paleontology forums. It was good practice for the AIs.

Per their odd belief that he'd actually HUNTED dinosaurs, and the fact he was the only one who knew what bullets actually meant, the team had declared their token human to be their commander. His first decision was easy, he'd declared Iris's not-boyfriend 'Bernard,' a trainee pilot, as their shuttle pilot. He'd done well and put them down just over thirty miles from their target, a tough but not impossible hike over two days through swampy lands with plenty of hills but no more than gentle slopes. He'd been pleasantly surprised himself that while they'd gathered what weapons and ammunition they could carry the distance needed, he'd remembered the most important items.

Toilet paper and dry socks for everyone.

The look on even the male Sylvans' faces when he'd explained the importance had been priceless. He knew everything was being recorded, he wanted those stills. Although only two, three or at most four years younger than him, they'd been born on these space stations and had never actually set foot on a planet. Of the few items that did cause some grumbling about their Queen, her strict limits that only Changelings and Guards went down below was a key one. The older generation strongly supported her. Bernard would likely go down, but pilots landed, dropped off or loaded in haste, and dusted off as quickly as possible. That the Queen herself had gone to Earth, openly as he well knew, kicked the grumbling up a couple of notches higher than it might've been otherwise.

Once he'd gotten over the sense of awe at the realism of his situation and accepted it, he'd twigged to what might be a big issue as they'd salvaged their gear from the crashed shuttle. Despite the uniforms his party had created, Sylvans hadn't had a military in over a thousand of their years. They'd had police forces but even they rarely faced serious threats. Thus, Sylvan decision making was almost universally a consensus based arrangement, where every participant was given the chance to say their piece, although like any sentient beings individual personalities made certain people, like Queen Anna, more influential. But even she rarely ruled by edict.

Peter had never been in the military but almost the only legal, mostly legal, endeavor his extended family managed to do as a unit had been week-long deer hunting trips. He'd learned a decent amount about organizing gear and food for a small group for a short time. And the Sylvan gear was magical. Lightweight packs and clothing, the guns and ammo were modeled after actual weapons but lighter than the deer rifles he'd used. Self-heating high-nutrition food packs. But the way the VR worked was they WOULD actually walk the needed well over thirty miles in the next real thirty-six hours. Well, if they wanted to 'win.' Based on the map and whatever the dinosaurs did it was unlikely he'd be able to keep them in a straight line, they'd probably need ten or more extra miles.

It was all gear, except the guns, that Sylvans had used in the extensive wild reserves on their home planet. And that they'd use on Earth, if the opportunity arose. But here, there was no instruction manual as his crew were used to.

That was him.

As they'd dug through the 'wrecked shuttle' that was a mix of a physical set and augmented visual, auditory and even olfactory input fed to them it was so faultless he'd forgotten almost immediately it was a 'game.'

"Brittany," he'd growled, "you ask me one more time 'why' when I tell you what to pack I will personally feed you to the first T-Rex we meet."

Her mouth had dropped open. Well, that was his view, but he knew that was essentially what she'd looked like under her mask and visor. She'd blinked.

"And, Bernard," Peter had turned, "you got us on the ground. Cool. Did I tell YOU how to fly the fucking shuttle?"

"Uh, no."

"Right. Now, you all have instructions. Any questions?"

His quick view of Brittany's expression had been a new one.

Her lust face. Um, what?

Then he'd noticed Iris. Then he'd seen the glare that passed between her and his blue-eyed girlfriend. Or whatever she was. Fun.

They all wore lightweight body armor that would offer at least some protection against teeth and claws. The shuttle offered heavier armor but no one was trekking near fifty miles wearing it.

The first five miles were uneventful. The Sylvans had an impressive culture of fitness and he'd willingly joined in since he'd found himself on an invisible satellite in orbit around his home planet. But this kind of trekking was new to his crew. He'd kept rude comments at bay but he'd started banter and encouraged it to keep them occupied. They'd seen a variety of small dinosaurs and even a couple as tall as them but all had fled. His brain knew at some level they were simply projections but the designers had done so, so well. Bits of dirt kicked up by their feet, sounds like modern birds twisted into something new, plants that moved as the creatures ran past.

And they'd seen the occasional small bird. Their faces were more reptilian and their tail feathers long, but they flew. They also stayed far away.

The smells were also interesting. Barnyards, decaying vegetation, others.

Then they'd found the stegosaurs. Or the stegosaurs found them.

Peter stopped the crew and ordered everyone to back up. His plan was to avoid them. One of the beasts spotted them but as they'd retreated seemed ready to ignore them. There were a dozen in total including some youngsters and the rest of the herd hadn't reacted. He used a soft voice and arm movements to get his team moving away quietly. Most obeyed.

But 'Oliver,' Julia's boyfriend, ignored him and strode forward. He lifted his AK-47 and fired the three-round burst that Peter had tried to drill into them. He kicked backwards when he didn't handled the recoil and his shots went high.

He'd let everybody fire off a couple of magazines before they'd left the downed shuttle since none had fired a gun before and the shuttle had more ammunition than they could carry. The designers had done a good job, the weapons offered recognizably recoil. He'd never fired 416 Rigby ammo but he'd hit the target on his third shot. Despite her lithe build Brittany had managed to control the weapon so he'd given her a second 'T-Rex gun' to add to the one he carried but he figured a head shot would be more blind luck than anything else for her. The biggest concern was only having six magazines of the Rigby ammo after their quick practice.

In addition to the practice he'd hoped it would scare off the locals and it had seemed to work. As he'd assumed at the briefing, there was little reason giving anyone else anything but an AK-47. He and Brittany also took them and he'd shifted food around to equalize their loads.

But in this case rather than fleeing the spiky beasts had bleated and charged. Oliver fussed with his gun like he could do something.

"You dumb...," Peter had dropped his big rifle and charged and shouldered into Oliver. The human was close to three inches or so taller and broader, not unusual. Male and female Sylvans were much closer in heights between the genders than humans and had a much more limited range he'd found, there were few he'd encountered taller than him but also almost no adults as short as Carole. They also tended to be slender but he'd learned to not underestimate their strength.

He drove Oliver sideways and spun them in what he hoped would be out of the way, the ground shook from the charge as the two of them rolled away. He looked up to see Bernard try to line up a shot.

He didn't get it. The realism of two tail spikes through his midsection and the geyser of red gore was obscene. His scream of pain was as real as it got.

The screams of some of the other Sylvans were real as well.

Bernard was dragged along for almost 10 meters before his body caught on a bush and pulled off of the spike as the angry dinosaur and its friends continued on.

How the hell had the game done THAT?

"Brittany," Peter yelled, "come with me. First aid kit."

An apprentice paramedic, she had one of their two kits. Another legacy of their being on satellites with many possible things that could go wrong was almost a third had extensive first aid training and almost everyone at least the basics. She followed.

"Iris," she looked at him, "watch the beasts. Scream if they turn around."

"Oliver," he knelt, his expression dazed, "watch where they came from. Let us know if more."

He stood and wagged his head.

Brittany had been business like and at the prone figure quickly.

"He is dead," she'd used a similar neck point to humans to look for a pulse, the suit didn't give him one, a stethoscope no different result. Peter assumed it had gone rigid and that the gore was simulated. Well, he hoped. He recognized the metallic smell of blood, he'd been around enough fist fights and worse to never forget it.

"Make sure," he touched her shoulder and she nodded. He looked around, Iris seemed almost blasé but Julia was so ashen she was almost as pale as that other female.

"Tell him goodbye, we're leaving," he said in a soft but firm voice, ensured everyone heard.

She glared at him but blinked those brown eyes repeatedly.

"No..." Oliver had joined in with her denial as he slid his arm around his girlfriend.

"Can't carry him. Sorry. Iris," she looked at him, "you're on watch. Rest of you, we gather rocks, we'll make it hard for scavengers. I'll mark this spot on the map, after we get to the shuttle we'll come back and get him."

Brittany's smile had been eerie and Iris soon duplicated it. None of his crew had known about the asteroid before the pre-game briefing but he had the feeling they knew there was no hope of doing that, post-impact. But Julia and Oliver seemed satisfied.

Again, some part of his mind knew that they hefted 'rocks' that were focal points of gravity, or something. But they covered Bernard once they'd gathered them. The stegosaurs had stopped about fifty meters away and had eyed them but remained distant with the occasional snort.

"Anyone else want to not listen to me? Good. Iris, you're front. Oliver, rear."

"Let's go, roomie," Brittany nudged Julia as she'd looked back and they'd set off.

An hour after lunch Peter had shot an overly aggressive duck-billed dinosaur. He'd explained they were plant eaters but when an animal around thirty feet long is hooting and chasing you, such fine differences seem unimportant.

Fortunately a high-caliber round in the head killed dinosaurs. Well, a half dozen of them. The other dozen slugs in its body hadn't seemed to slow it. He'd ordered his team to go for 'center of mass' shots, hit something, but single shots. They had slowed it down, his first two head shots had hit but hadn't penetrated. The rest of the herd had stayed in or close to the shallow lake.

"Alpha male, I guess," Peter had explained, "and his harem. Doesn't like intruders."

Brittany's growl had been obvious, Iris's response subtler but clear.

The two females passed from thought quickly as they all felt the crocodile-like skin and thick muscles of the beast. He'd felt bad about having to kill it.

"Anyone want to chop a hunk off for dinner tonight?" He'd asked, they all had heavy knives, but even with those he doubted they'd accomplish much in the time they had. How had ancient peoples butchered mammoths with stone tools?

No one seconded his suggestion.

He'd had no choice but to stop them, he'd noticed a definite increase in dinosaur activity as dusk approached. Movement, bellows, roars. He also knew his charges were flagging. Badly. They'd seen an assortment of dinosaurs during the afternoon but he'd steered them away in a zigzag course and no one had repeated Oliver's or Bernard's impulsiveness.

He'd found a high spot backed by a twenty meter high rock wall to camp overnight. He'd showed his crew how to use the stakes marked as 'perimeter' in an octagon. They used lasers and would warn them of approach. He noted they were too sensitive, Dino moths set them off.

They'd grumbled when he'd veered to find this spot. The map said a small range of hills were here and once he'd confirmed them he wanted a dry and defensible spot. His charges had been upset with the extra hiking.

"See," he'd pointed to upright plants around the area, "no game trails close by. They don't normally come here."

That had slightly mollified his crew once they'd understood its significance.

He'd had Brittany attend to blisters and sore muscles, scrapes and apparent allergic reactions. Fortunately all minor.

Real blisters. Their tech was good, but no one walks near twenty miles over way too realistically rough terrain on a whim without some damage. Brittany had passed out their equivalent of supercharged aspirin, near-narcotic on pain but without the sedative effects. Real drugs for real aches.

The expressions he'd received when everyone pulled on dry socks was priceless. He wanted those stills too.

Dinner had been freeze-dried packets that heated themselves when you tore them open. He'd described the joys of explosive diarrhea when he'd caught a couple of his party about to drink water before he made them use the purification kits. He didn't know what was in the actual water that flowed now and again, in contrast to lakes and rivers that were only virtual. He wondered how the suits would've faked it. Or if they'd spiked the water.

He'd wondered where they'd gotten the sounds but he was going to beat the shit of the sound designer. The Sylvans jumped and stared and he'd repeatedly hissed at them to not fire their guns into the blackness. The shuttle hadn't included night-vision gear and the VR didn't include ultraviolet light so his crew were as blind as he was, not something they were used to.

He'd set a rotating watch. He'd had little trouble when he'd rebuffed Brittany's advance. Iris had waited for her to fall asleep and had done likewise but she'd not been overly aggressive either. He'd managed an hour of his own sleep.

With his back to the rock wall he watched the predawn sky lighten as he drank coffee from a self-heating bulb, his crew still slept. He cajoled them into activity, didn't let anyone use the toilet out of sight. Their dress and gym facilities showed his hosts had little body shame and even semi-public sex wasn't out of bounds, Angie's admonition to him and Carole had been to keep the gym from getting crowded, not taboo. But shitting and pissing was out of sight. One of the few social strictures and as a result he'd noticed it was obeyed.