Adrift in Space

Too bad.

They had just under fifteen miles to travel and twelve hours to do so. Other than losing Bernard the previous day hadn't been bad. But they were under a tight deadline. Any later and the shuttle wouldn't have time to get them far enough from the coming asteroid's blast zone.

And the shuttle. Bernard, their pilot, was 'dead.' The little craft were largely automated but they had no idea if the Golden Criminals might've sabotaged it before they'd apparently been eaten, his skills had been essential getting them down in one piece. Their deaths were presumed and not confirmed and were based on screams and gunshots heard on an open radio channel so an ambush was another possibility.

The closer to Hell Creek the denser were the herds of primordial beasts. After an hour of walking they saw their first sauropods, Peter simply said they were Brontosaurs, he didn't know specifically and what the hell. Every big ass long necked four-legged plant eater had always been and would ever be a Bronto to him. A dozen adults and half that many young slogged across a shallow river toward a forest of tree ferns. The herd saw the bipedal creatures but didn't seem to care. Peter kept it that way and edged his party away.

He authorized full auto on their rifles when they were charged by a pack of vicious two-legged beasts that were a third of the way to bird hood, their arms like sort-of wings with claws and their bodies covered with downy feathers. They had some kick-ass talons on their feet and instead of beaks had mouths that reached just below his breastbone. And were filled with razor-sharp teeth.

"Turkosaurs," he called them, no one argued. He didn't recognize them immediately, close enough.

There were twenty-five or thirty of them. They'd taken out half before he realized his error and turned, another dozen had flanked them. He'd turned Iris and left Brittany to lead the front, the best of the rest with a weapon.

A loud bleet-like roar forced a rethink on the little carnivores. The turkosaurs stopped and turned, fled around the boulder field he'd retreated his team into.

T-Rexes. Two. Not full grown but unmistakable. The alpha predators had been concerned with the turkosaurs but they registered the strange creatures among the rocks and stopped. Two sets of nostrils went wide.

"Iris," he heard a shaky 'yeah,' "switch with Brittany. You and Julia watch the turkosaurs and our back."

"Got it."

"What, boss?" Blue eyes on him.

"Switch rifles. These pop guns will just piss this pair off, Oliver, if they charge go for the knees. Might slow them."

He and Brittany pulled their 'T-Rex guns.' He'd taken the duck bill down with his. She'd handled the weapon but hadn't hit much with target practice.

"You get the one on the right, wait for them to lean forward. If you hit the snout, won't do shit."

The wind was in his face so the T-Rexes couldn't get a good fix on them. He'd argued with the designers about their eyesight. Some human paleontologists claimed they could only detect movement, others that they were like eagles. Where had the designers landed? These teen tyrannosaurs knew they were there but no one doubted smell was their prime sense. They turned their heads, whether to gather smells or varied sight lines was unclear as they slowly advanced.

A gunshot behind him.

"One less turkosaur," Iris growled, the retreating squeals told him his fellows had accomplished what the bullet hadn't. The gunshot caused the T-Rexes to pause for a moment. Then they issued low roars that oddly reminded him of the sexual challenge sound Sylvan females made.

He knew most of the game designers were male. He smiled. Brittany's possibly subconscious response was the sound she'd make to tell a challenging female to go away. Or else. He snorted softly.

Then a loud, ululating roar came from off the right, a hillock obscured direct view. Both T-Rexes stopped and stood and looked that way, then back at their apparent prey.

"Go to momma, kids," Peter said aloud, Brittany and Oliver looked at him. A second roar and their antagonists turned and were surprisingly agile and fast as they dashed out of sight. Had T-Rexes truly been THAT quick? The game designers had incredible analytics about bodies and they'd pulled as much information as they could about dinosaur anatomies from every museum and university on the globe. They'd immediately rejected the human conception of the upright T-Rex dragging its tail. That had led to the ostrich compromise.

"Oliver, Brittany, keep watch," he turned, "status?"

"Hundred meters, eating many of their own wounded," Iris laughed, Julia's face was sheer horror.

"Brittany, switch back, I'm keeping this," he hefted the long-barreled weapon, then pointed an angle to the right of the remaining turkosaurs but not directly at the sauropods who'd retreated to the far side of the river, the adults had turned to glare where the T-Rexes had been and formed a cordon around their young.

"Iris, you're front, Brittany, left side, face the pack. Oliver, bring up rear. Jogging pace."

They set off. The turkosaurs didn't pursue them. A couple of adult brontosaurs gave them quick looks but otherwise ignored them.

They all blinked as the sky flashed. Dinosaurs went silent before a cacophony of hoots, roars and bleating surrounded them.

"What?" Julia's question.

"Asteroid," Peter said, "move!"

He told his wristlet to give him a two hour countdown. In their never-published paper he and Catanie had worked out the impact's effects. That told him they were far enough to avoid the immediate blast but a tornado-speed air front would hit them in about two hours. A few minutes later everyone stumbled as the ground rumbled for a few moments.

He'd given the paper to the game designers. Stupid, that.

The closer their destination became the thicker the herds. Fortunately brontosaurs had little interest so long as they didn't approach them directly. He'd kept to that agreement.

Duckbills weren't so sanguine. The books had them as akin to manatees, vegetarian browsers that liked shallow waters and lived in family groups. He didn't know if the game designers had caught their true essence or had decided it was like having koala bears as ninja assassins.

That had been when they'd found the herd of triceratops.

What he'd taken as another alpha male of a new duckbill group had again challenged them. They'd retreated as it hadn't seemed as aggressive, then a single shot past its head did nothing and with their limited remaining ammunition he'd restrained his team.

"Shit, boss," Brittany's voice behind him.

"What?"

"Tri... tri-tops, whatever they are."

He turned. Twelve of them, young behind a cordon of fully grown adults.

Fortunately the duckbill had seen them as well. He hooted loudly but stopped, then retreated slowly but without going silent.

The ground bounced as the apparent leader of the tri-horned beasts stamped its front foot, Peter's head just about met its shoulder.

"They're just like cows, you know cattle," he said lightly, "munch on grass and ferns. You can play tip the triceratops!"

"You should have fucked me last night when we had the chance," Iris's voice was a light and sing-song tone, Brittany's growled response was low, "now we will be squished and gored and eaten by turkosaurs and you'll never know what a real woman's pussy can do."

"He already knows that," Brittany's verbal growl, "and he has limp rags in his shower should he want to feel yours."

He saw a flock of about twenty turkosaurs emerge from a dense stand of low fern trees. They saw the odd bipeds but froze in place rather than attack as they looked at the duckbills and the Triceratops. The almost-birds seemed as leery of their bigger cousins as did Peter's group.

"I'll shoot both of you if you don't shut up," Peter's own growl met by two coughs, Julia and Oliver maintained their silence, "now... oh, shit."

The herds either side of them had rotated to put their young either side of the path he'd wanted to use, their most direct route away from the turkosaurs and toward their destination. He chambered a round, wondered if it would even penetrate between those horns as he mulled the map.

"Got it," he'd nudged them due west, "that way. There's a rise behind the tri-tops and it's downwind of them. We'll have to go fast but it'll get us to the shuttle. Bit of a forest, be a hassle but it'll keep these big guys away. Won't let the turkosaurs attack en masse either."

The tri-top adults rotated the herd to watch the group as they'd retreated, the duckbill had finally gone silent as he'd splashed into the river to rejoin his family. He'd turned to engage in a staring contest with the turkosaurs.

More turkosaurs mounted a halfhearted assault not quite five miles later, Peter assumed it was a new band since they'd detected no pursuit. He had his group at a fast jog when one had come out of the brush and into Iris, the two had tumbled.

"Circle," he shouted, "no auto fire!"

He handed his rifle to Julia and pulled his knife. Iris screamed as she used her forearm to protect her throat and pointed teeth sank into it. The lightweight body armor across her torso tore as the talons of a foot slashed at it. Peter threw his left forearm around Iris's and braced its head, wing-like arms beat at his chest as he sawed at the foot-long throat.

"Fu...," Iris sputtered as a spray of hot blood hit her in the face before she turned but it released her arm. Peter dragged it off of her and shoved it sideways where it kicked and sputtered as the flow of blood slowed. He'd heard a handful of gunshots behind him as he pulled Iris up and she threw her arms around his neck.

"I know some hot liquid you can spray all over my face later," she 'kissed' him before he pushed her away but not before she'd smeared turkosaur blood on his face. His mask oozed something across his face. He'd produced plenty of his own sweat but this was something else. Again, the metallic smell and feel of blood. How are they DOING this?

"C'mon," he yelled, she retrieved her weapon and they joined the trio. Turkosaurs tore into injured compatriots and he cajoled his party to move. Iris's arm bled but he saw no arterial spray. It'd wait.

The armor had prevented Iris from being disemboweled at the first slash, Peter's intervention had prevented a second slash from succeeding. They'd climbed a steep but short rise and dropped into a valley that stretched among low hills. He'd stopped them so Brittany could quickly tend to the arm. Then he'd rushed them again as they ran through a rain of pebble-like rubble. Either they were far enough from the impact to avoid the big stuff or the designers had missed. He didn't care as tiny rocks pinged off of helmets for a half mile.

"This looks good," Julia's happy tone as the party peeked over a ridge. The wind was in their faces which was the best part of it. Below them was another herd of tri-tops, they'd adopted Brittany's misspoken name for convenience. Six adults and three young grazed on low, spiky fern bushes and grass-like plants with thin stems that waved in the wind.

Beyond the herd ran a creek barely five meters wide. A half mile past that was the shuttle on a small hump of ground. Its doors were closed and it appeared undamaged. Binoculars showed a larger stream the far side of that hillock that the near creek eventually merged into. That stream joined another and widened into a river where another pack of duckbills foraged.

"We'll skirt the tri-tops to the right," Peter pointed along their ridge, "that'll keep us upwind. Drop down over there, straight shot to the shuttle. Brittany."

"What?" Her hand landed on his ass and pushed between his legs. He snorted.

"Got the keys?"

Their laughter was cut short by a ululated roar off to the left. It was the mouth of the small valley from where the creek originated. The tri-tops snorted and pawed the ground, an adult herded the youngsters back toward the base of their hill. Suddenly a flock of thirty or forty turkosaurs streamed from the valley's mouth. Half of them veered right but screamed in unison and doubled back when an adult tri-top charged two steps forward at them.

"Well. This turned to shit," Brittany had no problem with human sarcasm.

Peter looked at his watch. Thirty minutes. They'd need five minutes to prep the shuttle, assuming it was indeed undamaged. There'd be trees and dinosaurs flying through the air soon. They had to move.

A duckbill harem followed the turkosaurs, assumed mothers pushed their young in front followed by other adults. What he took to be the alpha male brought up the rear and had turned to bleat its response which was met by the lesser roars of what must be juvenile T-Rexes. But the earlier roar had made clear adults were with them.

A pair of turkosaurs veered to attack one of the infant duckbills, it bleated as they jumped it and raked their talons down its side. It's presumed mother screamed and grabbed one of the attackers in her jaw and shook it before she threw it twenty meters to her right. It wailed and rolled, it raised its head but did little more before two of its compatriots fell on it, biting and slashing. They were joined by another half dozen. The second one screamed and jumped off of the infant and ran to catch up to the rest of its flock who weren't chowing down on their relative. Peter exhaled hard when they charged up the slope he'd wanted to lead them down. He nudged Brittany's hand away and shuffled to his left.

"Hey, look," Brittany pointed to a lone turkosaur who'd dashed to the space between the tri-tops and the predator and prey tableau. It picked up something blue around a meter long.

"Shit," Peter had the binoculars, "that's a leg."

The little scavenger was obviously at its limit with the leg but it managed and ran to rejoin its flock, it was met mid-slope by a half dozen and they fell to fighting over the snack. The duckbills ignored it as the females herded their youngsters and the male made mock charges at the juvenile tyrants who returned the feints.

"Either that Golden Criminal is hopping around on one leg, or well, being digested right now," Brittany's voice was calm but strained, "but whatever. What about the other one?"

"Oliver."

"Yeah, boss," they'd all eventually adopted Brittany's term.

"Watch behind us, don't want those turkosaurs circling around and ass fucking us."

Iris suddenly leaned on him and he felt a new hand between his legs. He half turned and she winced as she hit her injured arm. These suits were way too realistic.

"Let me, I'm really into ass fucking," she purred as her good hand's grip tightened, "if we survive."

He shrugged at Oliver as Iris gave him a last squeeze and shuffled to crouch behind a rock.

The male duckbill bleated again and waddled as it used a powerful tail to try and deter the young predators. They gave away height and bulk but outgunned the vegetarian with teeth and clawed feet. But they still respected its strength and were leery. Then again, it was more likely this was all in hopes that one or more of the young could be separated.

The duckbills followed the stream as the ground vibrated from their passage and the tri-tops pawing at the ground. Another ululated roar was followed by their first sight of an adult tyrannosaur.

"School's in," Peter said, followed by, "I'll explain later."

"Are... are they really like that?" Julia's voice was choppy.

These aliens had crossed thirty-two light years in hypersleep booths and circled his planet in invisible satellites. They had fusion reactors and could manipulate gravity.

And they couldn't seem to grasp that neither he nor any other human had ever seen a live dinosaur.

"I've seen bigger," he deadpanned. The adult made a series of chirps and trills that indeed sounded like birds. He knew the designers had done extensive analysis on models of all of the skulls to prise out sounds. They'd watched the movies, the roars were too one note. Whatever.

The adult had to be the mother. Well, maybe the father. But it was clear the juveniles were being guided. They looked back and responded with their own trills. She seemed satisfied to advise, showed no inclination to press the attack harder.

Until she saw the tri-tops.

The anxious ground stomping had increased when the juveniles had appeared and had become an earthquake once mom showed.

She turned and roared at the pack. The tri-tops made little more than grunts and bleats but the shaking of the ground made up for their lack of vocalization. The two largest of them stepped to the front, a wall of terrible spikes and massive, bony shields between the Rex family and the tri-top calves.

The juvenile predators had halted their pursuit of the duckbills, who'd continued to follow the stream around the little hillock through its channel between the hillock on which the shuttle sat and the slope into the hills where the pack of turkosaurs lingered.

Peter growled. Somewhere deep his brain knew this was a 'game' but his thinking brain was determined to get his crew into that shuttle and off the planet. And that thinking brain knew that every creature between them and their escape would crush them and many would enjoy eating them.

His gaze followed the ridge line to their left. It was much rougher than the right and he couldn't see the drop into that little valley. Like here it wasn't more than thirty meters and he guessed it wasn't a sheer drop.

"We can go that way, once she's out of the valley," Peter pointed to their left, "drop down, easy sprint to the shuttle."

A new ululated roar, deeper and louder than the female T-Rex's caused Peter's party to jump. They weren't alone. The female went silent and turned to look up the valley from which she'd emerged. Her cubs shuffled behind her. The duckbills paused but then they turned and ran as they pushed the young at top speed and water and mud flew up behind them. The turkosaurs continued to fight over the leg but different ones popped their heads up to look across the gap, the cannibals carried off what bits they could of their dead compatriot and joined the flock on the ridge. Even the tri-tops had lessened their display and had moved to nervous pawing at the ground, chunks of dirt kicked up. Two more adults stepped to form a twenty yard wide phalanx of bone and bad intentions at their front.

The Queen of the Dinosaurs was near twelve feet at the hips, thirty feet long. The King had a yard on her in height and five in length. Long scars extended down his right hip, his neck, all healed. Muscle rippled the length of both bodies but the King's neck and jaw muscles were like he had one of the Queen's cubs on each side of his head.

"You should've seen the other guy, quote, unquote," Peter said when Brittany pointed the scars out. She laughed but Oliver and Julia just stared.

The King roared again which by itself shook the ground. The Queen returned it with only a few decibels less volume. Her cubs danced behind her and made what he took were sounds of distress.

Iris had returned and nudged Oliver and Julia, they quickly replaced her to keep watch. She pushed against Peter's left side. Brittany growled and pushed closer on the other side. He used his elbows to push both slightly away.

"We are going to die here," Iris cooed, "either them or the asteroid. So. Let us get a good fuck in while we have time."

"Whore," Brittany hissed, "his last fuck will be in a tighter, sweeter cunt than yours."

"None such here," the response, "he will experience the best at his last."

"Shut up, both...," they both stared at him as he went silent and smiled.

The King pressed forward and the Queen backed up, her cubs stepped alongside of her in alternating turns and let out their bleated roars but it was clear she kept herself between them and the King.