Predator

13

In the early light, Steve again woke up first. He hurried out right away to take a look at the dinosaur. “Hey, Hunter! Is it still here?”

“Good morning, Steve,” Hunter called from the corral. “Over this way.”

Steve ran to the gate, then stopped in surprise. Hunter, riding on the back of the struthiomimus with a saddle and bridle, guided his mount from the trees into full view. He rode up to the gate as Steve stared.

“You can ride it already?” Steve gazed at the calm struthiomimus. “It really looks like an ostrich, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does,” said Chad, coming up behind Steve. “It’s no accident, either. Walking birds in our own time, such as ostriches and emus, are among the closest living relatives of dinosaurs.”

“Really? Are they descendants of dinosaurs like this one?” Steve asked.

“The answer to that is still being debated,” said Chad. “Some experts say they are. Others feel that birds are descended from an ancestor common to the dinosaurs. That would make them descendants of, you might say, dinosaurs’ cousins.”

Steve nodded, impressed with Chad’s knowledge. That was the most civil conversation he and Chad had yet exchanged. He didn’t want to ruin it, so he said nothing else.

Hunter had used a small bit to go into the mouth of his mount and had tied a small bridle together out of rope. The struthiomimus’s head was higher than Hunter’s, and Hunter had to guide him with long reins. He sat on the small makeshift saddle, which was tightly cinched around the creature’s body.

“How did you tame him so soon?” Chad asked.

“After he calmed down, he became very responsive to me,” said Hunter. “I fed him with certain leaves and he let me get close. Since Steve needed his sleep, I spent a couple of hours making the saddle and bridle.”

“Wait a minute. You mean he just let you ride him?” Steve asked doubtfully.

“No, not exactly. He did not like the saddle or bridle much at all. I had to tie him up again to put them on and he fought them for another couple of hours after I untied him.”

“He got used to them pretty fast,” said Chad. “Maybe he’s smarter than the experts thought.”

“I judge him to be somewhat less intelligent than a horse,” said Hunter.

“How long have you been riding him?” Steve asked.

“About three hours,” said Hunter. “The first time, I had to sneak up on him and jump on. The Third Law allowed this, because falling from this height is not too serious. I can control my falls.”

“And now he’s trained enough to ride,” said Chad. “That’s pretty good work.”

“At least for the moment,” said Hunter. “He may resist again if I get off.”

“He’s day-broke,” said Steve.

“What?” Hunter asked.

“A horse that has to be broken to ride every day is called ‘day-broke.’ “

“I see. Yes, I think that is what he is,” said Hunter. “However, to keep him under control, I should stay mounted on him through the day unless a more pressing concern develops.”

“Okay,” said Steve. “I’ll get breakfast going right away. But then what do we do?”

“I want you to make another saddle for Chad,” said Hunter. “One we can strap on behind mine up here. He will ride double with me. Also another bridle that he will use tomorrow if all goes well. Now that we have one mount to ride, we should be able to run down another struthiomimus fairly easily.”

“Hey, that’s right,” said Chad. “No more sitting around waiting. And we won’t have to drag it on foot with ropes either.”

“What about Steve and me?” Jane asked, joining them at the corral.

“In the excitement last night, I never asked you for a debriefing,” said Hunter. “What did you find?”

“MC 1‘s trail is all over the place,” said Jane. “He’s roaming, not just running. Steve did a great job of tracking him.”

“Can you infer his motives?”

“Well, maybe. I’ve been thinking about it. Since he’s not trying to put simple distance between himself and us, two general possibilities present themselves. One is that he has malfunctioned in some way. A physical malfunction may have impaired his ability to judge what he is doing and where he is going.”

“He has no trouble running,” said Steve. “He can move fast. We even glimpsed him once, watching us.”

“That brings me to the second possibility,” said Jane. “He may have some reason for staying close and watching us, even though that means greater risk for him.”

“I would like you to continue tracking him today,” said Hunter. “I hope that tomorrow we will have two mounts on which to follow him, so tomorrow morning we will want to pick up his trail in the most recent spot you can give us.”

When breakfast was finished, Steve provisioned a day pack for Chad, cooking some of the fish and making sandwiches. Then he prepared the new saddle and bridle. Soon everyone was ready.

Steve handed Chad his pack and carried the saddle inside the corral. While Hunter held his mount steady, Steve, tingling with excitement, swung the new saddle up onto the back of the struthiomimus. He was ready to jump aside and run for the corral fence at the first sudden movement.

Hunter held the dinosaur firmly in place. Without incident, Steve cinched the saddle tight and waved to Chad, who was waiting at the gate. Then Chad, carrying the bridle, reluctantly came forward. Steve gave him a leg up into the saddle.

“Wow,” Chad said quietly, settling into the saddle. “I’m actually riding a dinosaur.”

“Put your arms around me and hang on,” said Hunter. “Its gait is reliable, since it walks on only two legs. But it moves its head up and down on that long neck to eat and to look around. The body angle shifts a little at the same time.”

“Right,” said Chad, looking up at the struthiomimus’s head with a new interest.

Steve ran to open the gate. Steve and Jane watched as the others rode out of the corral. Then, with a hesitant but controlled walk, Hunter and Chad’s mount carried them into the forest.

“So far, so good,” said Steve.

“They’ll be fine,” said Jane. “You know Hunter can’t let either one of them get hurt if he can help it.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Steve. “I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Steve prepared their day pack and they started out again on foot. He followed his landmarks back to their terminal point of the day before. They picked up the trail again, still wandering through the dense forest on a curving, crisscrossing route.

After only an hour or so, Steve stopped for a moment. “This is silly. He’s not going anywhere. Neither are we. We were in this spot twice yesterday and now today.”

Jane looked down at the tracks, which were thick here. “Is he slowing down? Are those walking tracks instead of running tracks?”

“Yeah.” Steve grinned at her. “You’re learning.”

“What I said yesterday goes double today. He really isn’t trying to escape at all.”

“No, I’d have to agree with you.” Steve studied the footprints around them. “If he wanted to lose us, he could be wading up or down that stream. Then he wouldn’t leave any trail at all. Or he might find some rocky ground somewhere.”

“Yesterday, I thought he was just circling back to watch us. But he’s not just doing that, either, or he would leave even less of a trail, don’t you think?”

“That would make sense,” said Steve. “But I’m just here to track our quarry through the forest. You’re the expert on how robots think.”

“I guess we’ll just have to keep following him,” said Jane. “But I wish I knew why he was hanging around like this.”

“This way,” said Steve.

Hunter rode for the first hour or so, giving most of his attention to his mount. The First Law had him deeply concerned about letting Chad ride with him. Finally, however, Hunter concluded that the dinosaur was truly under enough control for them to ride safely.

“I’d like to name it ‘Strut,’ “ said Chad happily, over his shoulder. “ A mount should have a name. Besides, ‘struthiomimus’ is just too long a word to say all the time.”

“Strut,” said Hunter. “Very well.”

“I thought that was kind of funny. Don’t you think that’s a good name?”

“Short, distinctive, and a mnemonic for the species,” said Hunter. “Yes, it is an appropriate name.”

“And it walks upright.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have much sense of humor, do you?”

Hunter quickly searched his data on the subject. He recalled that humor was important to humans. However, with the urgency of finding MC Governor or his components, Hunter had never taken the time to consider the subject.

“I apologize,” said Hunter.

“No need.” Chad laughed. “Never mind.”

Puzzled, Hunter simply nodded.

Throughout midday, Hunter guided their mount quietly through the forest, looking for another struthiomimus. They could not find one. Hunter stopped at several places along the stream, where they waited again for dinosaurs to come to drink. Whenever a new species appeared, Chad quickly looked up its name and traits, but they did not see a specimen they could ride. So Hunter moved on.

Behind him, Chad ate his lunch as they rode. When he had finished, Hunter passed him the reins so that he could learn to ride Strut on his own. Hunter remained in the forward saddle, but that seemed to make no difference. Chad guided their mount without a problem.

“I’ve been looking in my belt computer for more species that might be good prospects,” said Chad. “Maybe the struthiomimus just isn’t common in this neighborhood right now.”

“What data were you checking?”

“Only a few traits.” Chad relaxed the reins so that their mount could crane its long neck forward to browse on some leaves. “Cranial capacity, for learning ability. Size and strength of leg bones, to make sure they can carry us. The structure of the pelvis and spine of bipedal dinosaurs, to judge whether or not they are likely to bend far forward and then straighten up suddenly again, throwing us.”

“What have you found?”

“Well, so far, not much-”

Hunter held up his hand for silence. His hearing had just detected movement ahead. The four footsteps he heard sounded like those of something very heavy. At the same time, he heard the faint swishing and snapping of twigs-many of them at once, suggesting massive size to match the great weight of the creature.

Hunter waved his hand forward.

Chad urged the struthiomimus to walk. At first it moved casually enough, but then it suddenly stopped and turned its head in the direction of the animal Hunter had heard. Chad had to kick its body to urge it forward again.

Then Hunter got his first glimpses of the big dinosaur’s body, though its head was still out of sight. It was roughly seven meters long and the curve of its back was nearly three meters from the ground. From the sound of its patient footsteps, he judged its weight at over four tons.

Behind Hunter, Chad drew in his breath sharply. Hunter felt a tap on his left shoulder. He looked and saw the creature raise its head.

The dinosaur had a short, thick nose horn and two long brow horns about a hundred centimeters long, curving forward. Its beak was turtlelike in shape. A smooth, solid frill covered the back and sides of its neck.

“A triceratops,” Chad whispered.

“Is it ridable?” Hunter asked softly.

“I’m not sure. It’s an herbivore and it’s fourlegged-and much too heavy to rear up.”

“Obviously strong enough,” said Hunter. “It does not look as though it can run fast.”

“Not for very long, probably,” said Chad. “But if you can ride it, you can probably chase MC 1. The real problem is that they were-are, that is-aggressive.”

“How aggressive?”

“No one really knows. It might be like trying to tame and ride a rhinoceros.”

Hunter reviewed his data. “I do not know much about those, either. Is that difficult?”

“Uh-the Third Law probably wouldn’t allow it.”

“I see.” Hunter adjusted the coil of rope on his shoulder as he watched the triceratops calmly eating the leaves from a large, full bush. “Chad, can you ride Strut alone now?”

“Alone? I suppose so.”

“I think you will be safe enough. Also, I believe we have left MC 1 alone too long. We must get on with our pursuit under the general First Law imperative. That requires that I take a chance under the Third Law.” Hunter suddenly reached up to a strong overhead branch and swung out of the saddle.

Chad gasped in surprise, but kept Strut reined.

Hunter pulled himself up into the tree. “Be careful,” he whispered. “Stay close if you can, but ride back to camp if you have to. You know the way?”

“Yeah. The stream is directly behind us and I can find the camp from there.”

Hunter nodded. Then, taking great care to move quietly and safely, he climbed higher into the tree. When he could, he moved to a branch on a nearby tree, closer to the triceratops. He was going to climb right above it, where a certain branch angled over its frill.

Hunter reached that branch and swung out below it over the big dinosaur, moving forward hand over hand. With each arm movement, his weight shook the branch, rattling the leaves. The triceratops twitched its ears curiously but otherwise did not move from the bush it was eating. Assessing its massive build and heavily armed head and neck, Hunter judged that it was simply not concerned with anything small enough to climb trees.

When Hunter was hanging directly over the back of the dinosaur’s frill, he let go with his right hand and slipped the coil of rope down his arm. Still hanging by his left hand, he shook the loop loose and tossed it downward, toward the right brow horn of the triceratops. A second later, he dropped onto the creature’s back.

The shock of Hunter’s weight landing on the triceratops made it jerk in surprise. Then it lumbered forward, crashing through bushes and flattening some of the smaller trees. Hunter leaned forward and grabbed the left brow horn in his free hand, bracing his right hand with the taut rope. He gripped the dinosaur’s broad body with his legs as hard as he could and kept his head low as he rode the triceratops through the forest.