Tarlock’s Prehistoric World Narrative: The Battleship’s Senior Chief had left the Commander standing in the Mess and headed for the room his newly acquired son had been left in for the landing. The Battleship was going to make the difficult and dangerous cradle landing on the planet surface. Zan had remained in the crash seat the Commander had left him for about a minute before he unbuckled himself and went to the view port to see what was happening. He was standing there watching the planet get closer when the door opened and a very large Demon entered. The Demon walked up to Zan and looked at him as if trying to decide if he was big enough to eat. “Do you know what a Tarlock is?” the Demon finally said. “No,” Zan replied in a tone that indicated he didn’t really care. The Chief handed a transmission disk to the boy, “That is the communiqué from your former father. He is not able to care for you and has passed guardianship to me. I am now your father.” “He would never do that and I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” Zan snarled that the large demon. The Chief was not going to argue with a child. The situation was what it was and would not change despite the boy’s temper tantrum. The Chief turned and walked to the wall next to the already open crash seat that the he figured someone had already strapped the boy into, but he had probably disobediently left once that person had left the room. The Chief pressed a button on the wall, and another seat unfolded beside it. The Chief sat down and buckled himself in, leaving Zan standing at the view port. Zan was still standing at the view port watching out when the ship rocked and a plume of flame shot passed the window. Zan had to grab the edge of the wall to keep from falling. The ship was vibrating violently. Zan glanced at the large Demon but he was just sitting there watching Zan struggle to stay standing. Zan looked back out the view portal but there was a solid sheet of flame roaring past the portal now and there wasn’t much to see. Then the ship began rolling and Zan was thrown against the wall and rolled with the ship. Zan was being tossed around like a discarded doll. He was now bruised and laying on what had been the ceiling. Zan looked up at his crash seat and realized he had been dumb to leave it. The large Demon in the other crash seat had pulled out a book and appeared to be casually enjoying some novel. Zan was looking at his crash seat and trying to figure out how to get there when the ship rolled again tossing him back to the floor. The floor was even again and he started crawling toward his crash seat. He had almost reached the crash seat when the ship angled upward and Zan began slipping backward. He clawed frantically at the floor. In a moment the floor would become the wall and he would be thrown down against the opposite wall. Zan looked at the large Demon who was now watching Zan with detached interest. “Help me, please” Zan demanded. The Chief raised a brow “Help me please, what?” the Chief asked? “Help me, please, Father!” Zan cried out. Zan’s father unbuckled himself and slid expertly out of the crash seat, allowed himself to fall with the angle of the ship, wrapped Zan in his massive arms on the way past and landed lightly on the stern bulkhead. Zan’s new father spoke softly in Zan’s ear, “I am your father now, but I do not wish to steal the memory of the one that has been your father, you may call me Tarlock.” Tarlock pressed several buttons and two crash seats unfolded from the wall. Tarlock buckled Zan into the crash and then buckled himself in the other crash seat. A moment later the Battleship hit the cradle and Zan was pressed deep into the impact foam. The ship came to a stop only six inches off mark; a new record for any ship performing a cradle landing.