Prehistory of the League of Planetary Systems: The Complete Series

CARETAKERS

CHAPTER ONE

I hate this dream. The fact that I have the same dream every night, night after night doesn't help. As usual, I find myself grabbing a woman by the collar of her lab coat, then throwing her through a large, heavy steel door like the one you would find on a submarine. As she clears the frame, I push the hatch shut, turn the wheel, and lock down the dogs, while hitting the large, angry-red emergency button next to the door. As alarms go off, I turn to face a black cloud of death rising out of an oil drum in the center of the room. Stenciled on the side of the drum was the death's head symbol and the word PHILOGISTAN, which I knew was very, very bad. As if sensing me, the cloud moves toward me. Waves of searing pain wash over me as the black mist engulfs me and begins to tear my cells to shreds. I was dying, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Vents open in the floor, ceiling, and walls. From them, gray clouds pour forth and engulf me and the philogistan cloud...

I woke up screaming as I always do.

Having that damn dream again? a female voice came from a robot standing over me.

What makes you think I'm having the same dream, Clare? I asked the bot.

She pulled up a metal chair—my room had three, all rated for at least a ton, and sat down. Screaming, flopping about like a dying mackerel, and your body is soaked in sweat even though the room is kept at exactly 71-degrees Fahrenheit are signs that you're having that dream again. Lee, you need to tell the docs before you burn out.

I am not going to burn out. And it's only happening weekly. Speaking of time, what time is it?

Lee Carstares, you are the most stubborn human being I have ever met. It's 0430-hours on Saturday, 22 September, in the year of our Lord 2035.

Clare Merser, you are the most observant Alue I have ever met.

Guilty as charged, the robot said before hunching over, its glowing eyes going dim as a flash of light signaled Clare's transition to corporeal form. I smiled at the sight of a genuine Roswell, New Mexico, gray alien in an Area 51 standard-issue one-piece uniform. Unlike the pictures you find on countless websites, she had waist-length red hair tied into a pony-tail with a pink-paisley ribbon. That's my Clare, a girlie-girl to the end.

True. Love the ribbon, by the way. It makes your eyes snap.

Right, moron, she commented while retracting her black nictitating membranes to reveal huge green eyes. How about now?

Much better. I don't know why you insist on keeping them covered.

Natural sunglasses.

I got out of bed and walked over to the wall dispenser to grab a cup of coffee. Now, I really feel human. I need a shower, I proclaimed.

Agreed, Clare replied. I'll be down in the kitchen when you get out. How do you feel about a frittata for breakfast?

You read my mind, girlfriend. I headed to the shower while she reentered the bot and headed downstairs.

Another day, another endless list of chores. Nature does not wait for the caretaker.

###

Damn, girl, that was one wonderful breakfast, I said as we got into one of several trucks the caretaker station had on hand. Like the others, this one was equipped to deal with anything that has been encountered to date, and hopefully, anything new we come across. Once we were belted in, we headed out to attend to the first item on our to-do list: checking on a pregnant blade cat.

Clare and I kept watch on a 400-square-mile nature preserve located in the north-west corner of New Mexico known only as Area 26. Run by Area 51, Area 26 was populated by terrestrial species as well as extraterrestrial ones that had been collected from alien encounters since the 1940s. Some of these critters were the source of numerous modern-day cryptid myths while others have thankfully never been seen by humans except for me and my predecessor caretakers. Case in point, the blade cats.

How do you describe a blade cat? How about the love child of a saber tooth tiger and a collection of chef's knives? Blade cats are big, about seven-feet-long and four-feet-high at the shoulder. They're also massive, weighing over 600-pounds. Notable as it is, the size pales in comparison to their defensive/offensive equipment. Growing from their skin are hundreds of razor sharp, metal-plated, bony blades ranging in length from paring knife to yard-long carving knives found mainly around the neck. No one knows for sure what hell these cats came from, but I can imagine it would put our vision of hades to shame. Some of A51's neuroscientists even think the cats are sapient, only they choose not to deal with us on that level. Thank God they like me.

There they are, Clare said, pointing out the windshield about 15-degrees to the left. I looked and saw glints of reflected sunlight as if a pack of mirror balls were having a dance party. Looks like they have a kill. Maybe we should defer until a later date.

Clare, you worry too much. You know they're docile after a big feed. Now, if this is a takeover, then worry is warranted.

There are several packs of blade cats running around the park. Occasionally, the leader of one pack tries to take over another pack. That's when things can get dicey.

Let's hope there's something big and dead at the center of all that glinting, Clare noted nervously.

Yes, let's.

We arrived and surveyed the situation. Nope, nothing dead, just two ginormous blade-clad cats squaring off inside a ring of dozens of other similarly-clad cats, all of whom were making noise enough to raise the dead. I killed the engine and watched as the takeover played out. Lee, is that Talia coming over for a visit? Clare asked while pointing at a large, extremely pregnant cat walking over to the truck.

Yeah, and she doesn't look happy, I said as I unbuckled my harness and opened the door.

And you chose this moment to lose your mind, Clare said as she watched in horror as I stepped out of the safety of the vehicle.

What? Do you really think she's going to eat me while her mate and son duke it out?

Do you want me to come along, perhaps with a cannon?

No. Stay here but get in the driver's seat just in case I'm wrong. I closed the door before she could tell me her opinion of my actions.

I slowly walked over to Talia with my hands raised in a non-threatening manner. Hey, Talia. What's going on? I asked, expecting a growl in return.

My moron husband and moron son need your help, she said.

Floor me with a brick and call me a throw rug. They are sapient! Damn! Please forgive me for all the baby-talk I have inflicted on you over the years. I wasn't aware your people are sapient.

We are averse to deep interaction with younger races, but circumstances dictate I ignore that aversion.

I really could use a chair about now. What's up?

My son, the one you call Horatio, has challenged Maskur, my mate for dominance over the group. Unfortunately, Horatio decided to use an ill-advised attack to impress one of the ladies and was injured when he went off-script and caught Maskur unawares.

How injured?

His right elbow is dislocated, but we cannot stop the match to fix it, but we must fix it so that he can win.

Look, I like you cats, but I'm not going to get involved with killing your mate!

Fool! This is a ritual match my mate arranged so that he can retire. It is all arranged, but Horatio has muddied things.

And if Horatio loses?

My mate continues as leader and Horatio is banished to the bachelor pack for the next two years.

I looked over at the truck, then back at Talia. I've got an idea.

Tell me!

No. I need you, Horatio, and Maskur to act naturally, so go back to the match and leave things to me.

She nodded, then hurried back to the match while I ran back to the truck to fill Clare in on the plan.

###

The two cats stopped circling to stare at me as I walked up to face Horatio. Horatio! Didn't I tell you not to cull the shoveler herd at the base of the mountain? Bad kitty!

He pounced and drove me to the ground to stand over the top of me with his fangs within inches of my face. He stopped when he realized he couldn't hear the pack around him.

Nordican holographic projection. Only you and I see what's really going on while pack sees you trying to scare the shit out of me. By the way, your mother is in on this, so show me your elbow.

Shocked, he brought up the injured joint so that I could see it. Yep, it was dislocated. Luckily, the A51 docs had trained me well. I grabbed his forearm and upper arm, then twisted them in opposite directions, persuading the joint to reset. Using a med scanner, I had in my pocket, I checked it to make sure it was aligned. How does it feel?

He flexed it. It is usable.

Good. I assume your pack has a doctor?

Yes. She is very good and very discreet.

Excellent. Have her check it. I tapped my earcomm. Clare. Where are we in the movie?

Horatio is about to give you the long stare. Five seconds, mark!

Copy that. Buddy, give me the long, angry stare. The computer will take care of matching the output to reality.

The hologram dissolved around them. After holding the stare for a few seconds, Horatio backed up, freeing me to get up and back away. Sorry! Didn't see you and your dad were having a moment. I'll just go now, I said as I slunk back to the truck. How'd I do? I asked after sealing the passenger door and refastening my harness.

She shook her head. Were they talking to you?

Maybe. Why?

Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm embarrassed about calling them 'Nice Kitty' for the last ten years.

Don't worry about it. I think they find it amusing. We should go and leave them to their ritual.

Where to next? she asked.

I looked at my clipboard. Shoveler herd eighteen for a routine scan.

She put the vehicle in gear and drove off, leaving the pack behind.

CHAPTER TWO

It was dusk when Clare and I finished with the check of the north perimeter fence. Someone attempted to cut a hole through the chain link but stopped before they got half-way around. Probably got a look at one of the sanctuary's more curious residents. Luckily, several repair bots—welder-equipped squirrel robots—had repaired the damage by the time we arrived, so we photographed the areas on either side of the fence and sent them off to A51 for investigation.

I looked over and saw Clare had fallen asleep. She worked hard today, and my stunt with the cats probably didn't help matters any. How she put up with me is anyone's guess. I let her sleep, while I drove into the deepening night.

A26, this is A51 actual, do you copy? Over? a voice asked over the truck's radio.