Carradine picked up a small, toothy skull fragment from the tray. “We picked this and several other bone fragments out of the dropping. We all agree that these bones are from a pachycephalosaurid, most likely of the genus Homalocephale. This individual was half-grown, probably about the size of a young deer. Judging from the number of bones in the dropping, the pachy was swallowed whole. Judging from the size of the dropping, the creature that swallowed it was substantially larger than a T. rex. We would welcome your input.”

I gazed thoughtfully at the remarkable find. It was green, with a coating of milky white mucous. I hesitantly poked at a spot where the mucous had been removed. It was warm. “I don’t think this is a dropping,” I said after a moment’s thought. “It reminds me of an owl pellet.” Some people nodded, but others looked confused. “That’s a mass of bones and fur that owls spit out after digesting a meal,” I explained.

Carradine smiled in relief. “That means the carnosaur could be relatively small,” he said. “Perhaps no larger than a grizzly bear. A young T. Bataar, or an adult of a smaller species.” It was strange to hear the largest of modern carnivores described as “relatively small.”
“Aliolamus,” Wang said abruptly. Even the other paleontologists looked confused.

Hutchins furrowed her brow and then nodded. “Alioramus remotus,” she said. “It’s a poorly known predator from a slightly older formation, probably about the size of a juvenile T. Bataar. It’s generally thought to be a primitive tyrannosaurid.”

“If it’s primitive,” Di interjected, “then it shouldn’t be living alongside advanced ones.”

Dianna was openly skeptical of evolution, an attitude that grated on the paleontologists. There was a long, awkward silence. I tried to salvage the discussion and get back to the point. “I don’t want any big predators roaming around near our camp,” I said firmly, “and whatever made this pellet was a substantial predator by any standard.” I concluded with a sigh: “It would be in our best interests to hunt down this Aliol—I mean Alioramus as quickly as possible. Carradine, did you look for footprints around the place where you found this pellet?”

“I found a few traces,” he said. “I saw some indistinct prints that were unusually long. On consideration, the carnosaur may have been sneaking along in a plantigrade stance.” “Plantigrade” means that a creature walks with its feet fully on the ground. Most dinosaurs normally walked in a “digitrade” fashion, with only their toes touching the earth, like a human on tiptoes.
“Show me the tracks,” I said. “With any luck, we can kill this thing before nightfall.”

“You’re going nowhere,” said the medic. “You obviously sustained some injuries. I must insist on giving you a full examination before I let you go tromping through the wilderness.”

“Take his advice,” Dianna said sweetly. “You did a good job handling the problems with the plane. You deserve to take the afternoon off.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Flockman,” Robertson said. “With Dr. Carradine’s help, I can track the creature. If you will permit it, of course.”

“Give it your best shot,” I said. “Carlos, go with him. Oh, and Mr. Robertson, don’t try to take the carnosaur with your pistol. Take one of the Tacticals, or even an Eliminator.”

Mr. Robertson looked disappointed, but did not argue. “A .38 will be quite sufficient,” he said. He marched out of the tent with annoying solemnity.

“Okay,” I said, “we should set up the scent machine. It won’t do to have the scent of blood advertising this tent to every carnivore in the vicinity.” It only took about ten minutes to unpack the machine. The device was a rectangle, one foot long and six inches wide. A large can of peppermint extract fit into a hole in the top. The peppermint smell was unpleasantly strong, and there was a hint of something like bleach. The spray was known to throw bloodhounds off a scent. “Leave it on for fifteen minutes,” I said with a cough. I fled the tent before the scent could make me sick.

We spent the next couple of hours doing odd jobs. I helped Zapata set up live traps for small mammals. We heard many distant hadrosaur calls. Once, I heard a “chug-a-chug” sound, which I attributed to a large frog. We had a midday meal of Personal Universally Consumable Rations. (Take a guess what their nickname is.) One of these burrito-like abominations meets the daily dietary requirements of a soldier. They had been made in response to UN demands for a compact combat ration that would be “kosher” for people of any belief system. The result was something that no one would want to eat. In fact, several religious leaders had forbidden their followers from consuming them. Their gritty texture and saccharine flavor added a whole new dimension to the horrors of war. “Remind me to fire the commissar,” I said after choking down half of a PUC.

Around dusk, the hunting party came back with nothing but a pachycephalosaur to show for their efforts. “Other dinosaurs disrupted the trail,” Robertson said. “The carnosaur appears to have been stalking one of the hadrosaurs we wounded, until the other hadrosaurs chased it away. The pursuers obliterated its footprints in the process. We picked up the trail again, but by then, we were on rocky ground that is very poor for prints.”
“Did the hadros give you any more trouble?” I asked.

“No direct threats, but a couple of them trailed us for more than an hour,” Robertson said. “They kept exchanging calls with other hadrosaurs. They seemed too fearful to try to chase us away, but not fearful enough to run away themselves. We finally called it quits when we started hearing calls from hills on both sides of us. Carlos was concerned that they might ambush us.” There was a hint of disapproval in the hunter’s voice, as if Carlos had panicked and overreacted. Carlos scowled and pursed his lips. He seemed to be physically holding in an angry response.

“That was a good decision,” I said. Just then, there was a strange, unpleasant noise from the Thing. We all glanced in the direction of the sound, just in time to see the pachycephalosaur’s tail vanish down a carnosaur’s throat. I caught a glimpse of a red crest on its snout, the most distinctive feature of Alioramus. We all grabbed for our weapons, and Carlos got off a couple shots, but the creature had already vanished into the forest.

After dinner, I ordered a camp meeting. The first order of business was our quarry, Deinocheirus. “I want you to tell me everything you can about this animal,” I said. “Don’t be afraid to speculate. First of all, how big is it? The sources I read didn’t even agree on the length of the arms.”

“That’s because there’s disagreement about whether all the Deinocheirus specimens are one species,” Hutchins explained. “The type specimen is a pair of complete arms, which are eight feet in length. Fifteen years ago, a second specimen was found, even less complete than the first. It consisted of a forearm and manus, which were further damaged by incompetent fieldwork. It wouldn’t even have been of interest, except that it was larger than the forearm of the type specimen. Assuming the proportions are the same, the second Deinocheirus would have had arms nearly ten feet long. It’s so much larger that some scientists proposed a new species, D. giganticus.”

I smiled in bemusement. “As if the first wasn’t gigantic. So, if the arms are up to ten feet long, how tall would that make the complete animal?”

“That’s hard to say,” Hutchins said. “It would be very unusual for a dinosaur’s arms to be more than half as long as the legs. Among ornithomimids, it’s typical for the arms to be one-third the length of the leg. Do the math, and you get a hip height of up to thirty feet. I think even twenty feet is unlikely, but any height much less than fifteen feet is also unlikely. That’s taller than a T. rex.”

“Is it really a predator?” I asked.
“Celtainly,” Wang said without hesitation.

Hutchins pondered the question for a moment. “It probably hunted at least some of the time,” she said. “However, its arms were surprisingly weak, and the claws were too blunt for killing. Ornithomimids were usually herbivorous, so Deinocheirus probably fed mainly on plants.” Wang shook his head in silent disapproval. After our encounter with a living ornithomimid, I was equally skeptical.

Carlos spoke up: “The claws are so big that shape isn’t that important. With arms that big, the shock force alone would be enough to knock over a good-sized animal. Relatively blunt claws would simply spread the effect over a wider area. The rounds from the Eliminator are built on the same principle. Take a look: they’re practically cylindrical.”

“Doctah Lizniewski has a point,” Wang said. “However, it is possible that the claws were not used fol killing. Deinocheilus could have immobilized pley with its ahms and then killed it by some othel means.”

“Let’s get back to what kind of animal it is,” I said. “Dr. Hutchins, do you believe that it was an ornithomimid?”

“It certainly looks more like an ornithomimid than anything else,” she said. I was surprised. Her mentor, Dr. Romenko, vigorously opposed the ornithomimid theory. “For the moment, its taxonomic status is irrelevant. We need to find a complete specimen before we can reach any conclusions about how to classify it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I said. “Assuming that it is a predator, what would be its most likely prey?”

“Saulolophus is the most common lahge helbivole,” Wang said, “and the easiest to kill.”
“If the Saurolophus is alone,” Carlos corrected.

“It didn’t have to limit itself to herbivores,” Rivera said. “I’ve read a twenty-year-old paper that suggested that Deinocheirus preyed primarily on other carnosaurs. T. Bataar is very common in this area. We actually have reason to believe that it nested here. It’s unlikely that any terrestrial predator could survive feeding primarily on other predators, but during the T. Bataar breeding season, a Deinocheirus could have gotten a lot of food simply by killing or scavenging young tyrannosaurs.”

“For the moment, the most important question about Deinocheirus is not what it is or what it ate,” Carradine interjected. “The critical question is, where do we look for it? The area around us has several distinct ecologies, ranging from floodplains to forested highlands. It is vital that we search for the creature in the right one.”
I nodded. “Do you have a theory about where Deinocheirus lived?” I asked.

“I suspect that it lived in the highlands,” Carradine said. “If nothing else, that would explain why it is so uncommon in the fossil record. The Nemegt formation and its fossils formed down here in the flood plain, where very few highland animals would ever reach. Those that did would most likely arrive as floating, disarticulated carcasses.”

“In that case, we should definitely explore the highlands,” I said. “Even if we don’t find Deinocheirus, it would be worth it just to learn about an environment that we can’t study in the fossil record. There are just a few more orders of business I want to discuss. First of all, I’ve decided on a roster for guard duty. I only selected those who can handle an Eliminator, which narrowed it down to Wang, Fernando, Robertson, Carlos and me. We will each work a shift of four or five hours. I will keep the first watch. Finally,” I said, making eye contact with Robertson, “I’d like you to explain why you think you can kill a Tyrannosaurus with a handgun.”

Robertson chuckled. “I don’t think I can,” he said confidently. “I know I can.” He proudly held up his pistol. “This is 14.5 mm. It can fire an 1100 grain projectile for over a mile, with pinpoint accuracy. As you have seen, it is a silenced weapon.” He pushed a button, and part of the frame shot back to become a stock. “It has a retractable stock, which allows for greater accuracy. Hunters have killed elephants with guns smaller than this.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ve heard of a man named Schnyder who shot an elephant three times in the head with a .50 Magnum at a range of fifty yards. As I recall, the elephant ran for a hundred yards before it died. Snyder would obviously have been in a lot of trouble if it had run toward him instead of away from him.”

“In theory, your gun might work on T. Bataar, but I doubt if you could get within range, ” Hutchins said. “Tyrannosaurs have the largest nasal cavities among the dinosauria. They could smell you coming from a mile away.”

“You’re assuming that T. Bataar would flee from humans,” Robertson said. “They really have no reason to fear us. A dominant predator isn’t going to flee at the first whiff of an unfamiliar scent. In fact, it would be more likely to come closer to find out what the intruder is.” He had a point. I had heard of big cats in isolated areas walking right up to armed hunters.

“I’ll tell you one thing: There’s no need to worry about it not being powerful enough,” Carlos said. He held up a round for inspection. It was about 2 inches long, and most of its surface was covered by diamond-shaped dimples. “This is a Controlled Deformation projectile, otherwise known as a pineapple round. It was designed as a substitute for hollow-point rounds, to get around the conditions of an arms treaty. It has a light but tough outer layer, but the inside is soft and heavy. When the bullet hits, the interior expands and the jacket shatters. Sweet Mother, what a mess!”
“So, you think it’s adequate for killing a tyrannosaur?” I said.

“Yes—in theory. The problem is that, as the gallimime I shot demonstrated so vividly, there are different degrees of dead,” Carlos said. “If he hits the brain—and I think he can, four times out of five—there isn’t going to be much brain left. But we can’t count on that stopping it. Of course, the real problem is that if the first shot misses, or doesn’t work, or if there’s more than one dinosaur, then there’s not likely to be time for a second shot. It’s going to be vital that he has someone with a sporting rifle backing him up at all times.”

“There is no need to worry about that,” said Robertson. “I will have at least one person backing me up with an Eliminator, or my own 4-gauge. All I ask is to be allowed to take the first shot. Frankly, if you do not allow me to hunt a T. Bataar the way I want, I may have to fault the Association for breach of contract…” He didn’t need to remind us what would happen then; the company would be stuck with $15 million in unpaid bills.

Dianna came out to talk to me during my watch. “Do you feel okay?” she said. “The medic wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt,” she added, as if trying to allay any suspicion that she might be having unprofessional thoughts about me.

“I feel great,” I said. “Incidentally, how are you?”
“I’m fine,” she said. She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. “A little frustrated, but fine.”
I smiled. “Did you have trouble setting up the electronics, or did you get into an argument with the paleontologists?”

“A little of A, and a lot of B,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t understand why any of them believe in evolution. They would be insisting that the evidence for evolution is overwhelming one minute, and in the next, they would be admitting that even their best ‘transitional forms’ aren’t really ancestors of anything. But when I suggested that evolution wasn’t true, they looked at me like I’d suggested the Earth was flat.” She looked at me intently, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “Ted, what do you believe?”

“I’ve never felt informed enough to make a decision about evolution,” I said, truthfully enough. There was a moment of silence. “Dianna,” I said, a little nervously, “are you… seeing anyone?”

“Yes,” she said. I saw a gleaming of teeth as she grinned. “In fact, my boyfriend proposed two days before we left. I told him to hold onto the engagement ring until I get back.” My heart sank a little. I hadn’t had serious feelings about Dianna, but I had had hopes. I set my disappointment aside, and asked her about her new fiancée. One thing led to another, and we ended up talking for more than two hours.

Early the next morning, Carradine, Hutchins and I went out to look for traces of the Alioramus, while Carlos, Robertson and the other paleontologists went out in search of the tyrannosaurs’ kill. Carlos took the Amphibian, while my little group went out in a jeep. Before we went our separate ways, Robertson told Carradine, “You shouldn’t go out with only your .44 revolver. Do you know how to use a heavier firearm?”
“No, I suppose not,” Carradine said. “I haven’t had much practice with the revolver, either. I only carry it to kill snakes.”

“Well, then, I have the perfect weapon for you.” Robertson opened a carrying case and removed a weapon that looked like the missing link between a shotgun and the bazooka. “This is a 4-gauge recoilless shotgun. We used it for clearing out bunkers during the Five-Way War,” he explained. (In shotgun terminology, smaller gauge numbers denote larger shells. Thus, a 4-gauge is much larger than a 12-gauge.) “When you pull the trigger, blasts come out of both ends. Lethal shot comes out of the front, while relatively harmless plastic birdshot comes out of the back. You can hold it under your armpit or rest it on your shoulder. Make sure no one—especially yourself—is directly behind the back end when you fire. Don’t worry about aiming carefully. Just point it in the general direction of the animal you want to kill, and the scattering shot will do the rest. Pump it to reload. There’re three rounds in the magazine, plus one in the chamber.”

I drove my group out to the spot where the hunting party had given up the day before. This time, there were no signs of hadrosaurs. We got out of the car and started examining the ground. Occasionally, Carradine would scan some indistinct footprint with a Topographical Laser Scanner, a device that looked like an ordinary supermarket bar code reader. It was actually a sophisticated machine that could generate three-dimensional models of footprints. After scanning thirteen tracks, he sat down on a hill and started feeding data into his portable computer. Within ten minutes, he had reconstructed the dinosaur’s activities.

“The therepod came through here twice,” Carradine said. “I only scanned the freshest tracks.” His screen showed map of the hills with the thirteen prints marked in green. It was on a small enough scale that I could make out the dinosaur’s toes. Oddly enough, the number of toes varied from print to print. “Once again, the therepod was maintaining a plantigrade stance.” He pointed to a spot at the end of the hill where the footprints abruptly became further apart. “Here, the therepod ran out of natural cover, so it ran faster to avoid detection. The footprints lead toward that gully over there. If we follow the gully, we should see footprints where it came out.”

The gully in question was up to twenty feet deep and two hundred yards long. There was little vegetation, and evidence of a recent flood. “There’s lots of mud in the bottom,” I said. “We can follow the trail on foot.” I saw no need to mention that the sides of the gully were too steep for the Thing.

“I’ll follow the trail,” Carradine said. “You can pace me in the car.” As he climbed down the gully, I heard a loud “chug-a-chug” from somewhere close by.

We followed the gully for fifty yards before I called for a halt. “No need to follow the footprints any further,” I said. “I can see where the therepod went.” On a shallow hillside about a hundred yards away, a dozen ornithomimes were feasting on something large and dead. I could hear the clacking of their bloodstained beaks, and occasional crow-like calls. For a moment, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Then I realized the truth. “They’re chameleons,” I murmured. As I watched, one of the beasts reared up as high as it could and sent ripples of crimson down its light tan back.

Carradine clambered out of the gully. “That isn’t surprising,” he said. “Several specimens of dinosaur skin have the features of color changers.” He frowned, as if he had just thought of something alarming. “Actually, most of those specimens are from tyrannosaurids.”
I let out a grim, humorless laugh. “So, the animal we’re hunting may be able to change color?”

“Exactly.” Carradine gazed at the kill. “Though it may not be a threat to us for some time. It must have made a kill, eaten its fill and then left. All those gallimimes wouldn’t be eating a carcass if a larger predator were around. As long as the therepod is full, it won’t try hunting us.”

“Actually, the Gallimimuses could have driven it away from the kill, the way hyenas do with lions,” Hutchins said. “If it’s still hungry, it will either wait around here for the Gallimimuses to finish, or go hunting for something else. It might wander toward the camp…”

“I know,” I said. “We aren’t safe as long as the Alioramus is running around. We have to find the trail. Let’s head for the kill site. We may have to fight off the gallimimes, but it’s the only way to pick up the trail.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Carradine said. “There are broken branches on a tree over there.” He pointed to a tree 100 yards away, on the far side of the gully. “I won’t be sure until I check for prints, but it looks like it was caused by a dinosaur going by. Do you want to drive the Thing across, or would you prefer to go on foot?”

“Let’s go on foot,” I said. My companions started on down, but I paused to get out the Eliminator. The gun is ludicrously overpowered for any animal smaller than an elephant (and overkill even for something the size of an elephant), but nothing else would guarantee an instant kill. As I strode toward the gully, I heard another “chug-a-chug”, much louder than before. For the first time, I wondered if it was really a frog. “Stop!” I called. Hutchins looked back at me. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

“Maybe… but stay where you are,” I told her. I raised the Eliminator and scanned the far side of the gully with its sophisticated sight. I covered the nearby stands of trees three times, and was beginning to cover them a fourth time when I spotted something. I had just traversed the rifle past a stand of trees about fifty feet away, and looked at it again on a hunch. I had to zoom in before I was certain. A dinosaur, at least 7 feet tall, was standing among the trees. Its colors matched the surrounding pines perfectly. The trees were swaying in the wind, casting dappled shadows over the dinosaur. Without those shadows, I might not have noticed it. It’s hard for me to remember just what I saw, but my impression at the time was that of an optical illusion: obvious if looked at one way, but obviously something else if looked at in another manner. I still wasn’t sure what it was, until I made out the horned crest. I drew a bead on the creature and fired just as it turned and fled. My first shot missed, and so did my second, and there was no time for a third. I was therefore able to watch it bound into the open, and change its colors to match its new, grayish-yellow surroundings in an instant. Then it vanished around a hill.

We pursued it, of course. We drove after it in the car, stopping whenever Carradine thought he saw a promising trace. The ride was very rough, and I repeatedly cursed the minimalist engineers who had built the car with no suspension. Once, we got close enough for me to take another shot at long range, but I missed again. After that, we never even found a good trail again. It seemed to have learned that we couldn’t track it across rocky ground. After almost three hours of fruitless pursuit, I was relieved when Dianna summoned us back to camp. My relief vanished when she explained the situation. “The other hunting party came back…and they brought a live Tyrannosaurus with them.”