Dawann was blessedly alone for the moment, because the Keeper sat up front with the cruiser’s pilot, guarded by the ever-present Slaven-varool. She looked outside, taking in everything along the route. The wind had come up, forcing ruddy dust into the sky. Her gaze lowered, and she studied the buildings before her, from newer structures like the huge, transparent, covered stadium for flying poga games, to the ancient buildings built by the Keeper’s forebears and now used by the high priestesses of Moozrab. Intricate, carved parapets set on monumental slabs of polished, red stone loomed above the jet cruiser, the metropolis made up of large building complexes linked by underground tunnels.
She leaned back in the comfortable nano-seat of the cruiser. Despite the wind, a few saurians in pressure suits had ventured onto the streets. She watched them, their spacesuits glowing pinkish-gray in the hazy sunshine.
Several of the pedestrians halted in mid-stride as the royal cruiser passed by. Despite the bulkiness of their spacesuits, with swift, practiced moves they bowed from their waists.
Dawann turned, looking back, watching as they held their bows in deference to The One. Clearly, they were waiting for the entire convoy to leave the area.
Quivering slightly, she stared after them and wondered who they were. And how many among them could be counted as rebels.
Chapter 5
A mere hole in the ground, which of all rights is perhaps the least vivid and dramatic, is enough to grip their attention for hours at a time.
~P.G. Wodehouse, A Damsel in Distress
Fey-dracon felt edgy, for the Keeper and his entourage had never visited Mem-rax Labs before. Oh, Mem had met the Exalted One at a few court functions, but until this morning, when the royal palace’s advance team toured their facilities, there was never an actual visit by anyone from the court, let alone the Keeper.
Fey grunted, her nerves on edge. Their laboratory was a new operation, only thirty Moozrabian years old. It was known the Keeper had previously used other biotechnology firms for cloning and rejuvenation, but in recent years Mem-rax Labs had developed groundbreaking techniques for making mutation-free clones. Perhaps that was the reason the Keeper was interested in visiting them today.
A chill rolled down Fey’s spine as she thought of their other laboratory. It was far away, a world away, beyond the prying eyes of the Keeper, hidden deep in the wilds of beautiful Shurrr. She thought back to the moment it all started: the need for a hidden lair, for utmost secrecy.
She had been a young paleontologist then, newly graduated from Shurrr’s prestigious Hish Institute, working on the northern continent of Mera, at the bone fields of Kesh. She recalled the moment as if it were yesterday, padding toward her dig, glancing at the beautiful blue sky, and feeling the heat of the Sun’s bright blaze.
Fey’s professional gaze traveled to a trench, wandering over its stratigraphic layers until it settled on a tier of small, roundish cobbles. She pondered the rock pile, which resembled the gizzard stones found in the fossils of herbivorous dinosaurs. A common enough find at such a site, she thought, but then again, something seemed different.
She picked her way toward the pile. Actually, it did look rather strange, for gizzard stones rarely displayed such a distinctive arrangement; the oblong mound had a kind of geometric precision about it, as if it had been deliberately placed there.
But that can’t be, Fey thought as she bent down, studying the dark-gray layer of clay in the strata above the stones. The clay had been deposited some 65 million years ago, when a large comet struck the world, setting off a great mass extinction. After that, only a few ancient dinosaurian species survived. How had they made it through the extinction? And how had one species given rise to intelligence by evolving into Fey’s kind, the saurians?
She looked up again. Alabaster clouds scudded across the heavens, while the Moon hung pale and gibbous in the sky. To the west, the snowy pinnacles of the Great Toothed Mountains rose majestically over the land.
Fey-dracon took in the beauty of her world and then dropped her gaze. There was still work to do, so much work. In silence, she watched the worker drones. For much of the morning, they had plodded on, methodically sieving through the rocks, pebbles, and dirt on a nearby slope, searching for fragments of fossilized bone. Now, several removed the cobbles from the trench one by one. The position of the stone pile was already entered into Fey’s recorder; the pictures would be studied later for clues to their origin.
Suddenly, a twinkle near the remaining stones caught Fey’s attention. She reached into her tool kit and retrieved a small trowel and delicate pick. With a fixed stare, she walked forward, then motioned the drones aside as she hopped into the trench. She knelt down and started to work on the patch of ground at her feet.
What she uncovered startled her: a flat sheet of an extremely hard, silvery metal. Oddly shaped symbols and curious pictures were etched onto its surface: a partially uncovered drawing depicting an upright figure; a representation of a planet with continents that resembled present conditions on Shurrr; several lines in an indecipherable, linear script; and, at the bottom, flowing scripts in varying segments that suggested different handwriting styles.
The pulse pounded in Fey’s ears. What was this? Some sort of plaque? She troweled through clods of dirt, hesitantly at first, then faster and faster to uncover the mysterious figure.
A moment more and she revealed enough to see the figure wore a helmeted suit, resembling the spacesuits used by saurian astronauts. But what really shocked Fey was the creature’s right hand, which was raised above its head. There were five fingers on the gloved hand.
Five fingers!
Fey dropped her pick and regarded the three, clawed digits of her right hand. She raised her arm in imitation of the figure. Immediately, the nearest worker drones stopped and looked at her, gape-mouthed. And one little fellow actually growled in fear.
Fey’s claws leapt out, but she fought down the instinctive urge for confrontation and retracted her talons. She dropped her arm with a grunt. The drones were afraid, and little wonder. In her culture, a raised hand was viewed as a considerable threat, indicating an imminent attack. So, what was the significance of the plaque? Why did it possess such a menacing symbol?
It must mean something else, she decided. But what?
She touched the plaque again, lightly, caressing it from top to bottom with the tips of her claws. Despite her amazement at such a profound discovery, she felt trepidation. What exactly had she found?
It was some time before she came to the realization there were two possible explanations: that long ago, alien astronauts explored Shurrr, or that an ancient race of five-fingered, intelligent beings once inhabited the planet.
Fey shivered despite the heat of the day. The nictating membranes rolled over her eyeballs, temporarily blinding her. She tried to speak out loud, to utter murmuring reassurances to herself, but the words would not come.
Her eyes opened and she studied the plaque again. She wanted to share her find with her paleontological colleagues, but they were at another dig on the far side of the site.
Besides, it was not her place to announce the discovery to anyone. The project director and national scientific leader, the high priestess of the Holy Mother She-Goddess, Shanash, the Alpha Nu-dracon, would take that honor. It was the way of things, after all, and the Alpha Nu’s preeminent status was not to be questioned. In religious and scientific disciplines, only the Keeper of All Knowledge was considered higher than the Alpha Nu.
Only the Keeper.
A feeling of loathing overwhelmed Fey. The Keeper was vile and corrupt. She held this intense hatred secret, however, for most saurians could not understand the need for self-determination. Only a few dared question the politics and religion of her society, and they had quickly succumbed to censure, or worse.
And Fey felt no awe for the Keeper. She knew he could be ruthless, with the power of two worlds at his command.
Shielding her eyes against the Sun’s glare,
Fey looked south toward the hemisphere’s other continent, the great landmass called Sagamish. There, rebel saurians plotted their revenge against the Keeper, waiting to strike against him at the right moment, hidden in the continent’s vast, steaming rainforests.
Fey lacked the courage to join the rebel forces. Instead, she found subtle ways to defy the Keeper’s authority, little, devious things to set things right.
Touching the plaque, she rubbed the remaining dust from its surface. Until now, the Keeper was the only alien known to her people, but the plaque confirmed others had existed as well. Would this information threaten his position as The One, the Savior of the saurian race? How would he view the discovery of another alien presence – albeit long dead – in the Solar System?
Fey scanned the horizon. Shanash, the Alpha Nu-dracon, was scheduled to arrive this afternoon. Surely she would realize the significance of the discovery. Since the Alpha Nu was loyal to the Keeper, Fey was convinced she would inform him about the plaque. Yet, would they want to toss the plaque on a garbage heap? Would the Keeper order the destruction of her find?
That arrogant alien filth, of course he will! Fey rose up and kicked the ground, determined to do something; she could not let him suppress such knowledge.
She looked down, and her heart nearly stopped. A fist-sized amber nodule now lay at her feet. The result of her reckless kick? Holy Mother She-Goddess, what had she found? She leaned closer, staring hard at the amber. There was something inside it, something that looked like...
Teeth? What were teeth doing there?
Fey panted with excitement. With a tremulous hand, she took her brush and combed away the remaining soil from the amber. Then she got up, retrieved a magnifying glass from her instrument kit, and examined the specimen more closely. Two clear objects – a pair of vials containing molars – were suspended in the midst of the petrified resin. Upon closer inspection, Fey saw something else in there: several long, fine filaments. She had no idea what they were, perhaps a contaminant.
Unless it was hair? She held the amber aloft. It caught the light, sparkling with a glow as rich and warm as sunshine. She turned it, studying the molars. They looked like carnassial teeth, reminding her of the dentition found in Shurrrian shrews and rodents.
Now the hair made sense. A mammalian biped? Fey asked herself. Could the alien astronaut somehow be related to our lowly rats?
What had she discovered? She stared at the remaining cobblestones, realizing they had been deliberately placed on top of the metal plaque and nodule of amber. Since that distant epoch, the stones had provided a sheltering layer, marking the spot where the makers of the amber artifact left a record of their journey.
Fey-dracon could not let the leaders of the Solar System destroy these finds. She must protect them above all costs, even if it meant risking her own life.
Hide it. Hide it from them all.
She looked at the plaque, then at the amber, mentally gauging their sizes against the interior of her backpack. Her gaze lifted. Only the stupid worker drones stood nearby.
With a quicksilver move, she reached into her pack, retrieving her recorder. She took pictures of the site and then dumped the rest of her gear on the ground. Lifting the artifacts, cradling them, she put them at the bottom of her pack, then placed her gear above them.
Done. Hidden. Safe in my care.
“Look. They’re here, Fey. The Keeper has arrived.”
Thoughts shattered, Fey’s mind veered back to the present. She looked at her mate, Mem-rax, who stood by the window in their office. With a low growl, he turned. His topaz irises were hooded by his nictating membranes; clearly, he was afraid she would see the nervousness there, the hint of fear.
“Mem, I know,” she said softly. “I feel it, too.”
His gaze cleared. “Then let’s put our sharpest claws forward.” He paused. “I am reminded of what the rebel leader Snillor said, ‘If I lose the light of the Sun, I will fight by synthlight, no light. If I lose my weapons, I will fight with claw and tooth. I will fight always.’”
Fey grunted in agreement. Mem’s advice, his keen intelligence and moral certitude, his great heart, always had a way of calming her, imbuing her with courage. He would stand by her no matter what. She turned toward the door, considering. Although the Keeper assumed the role of a benevolent monarch, he was, in truth, the antithesis of everything they held dear. The Lord of the Solar System was a dictator, and, from what their oldest friend, the royal courtier, Tima-dracon, had told them, he could be small-minded and brutal if he did not get his way.
Fey submerged her thoughts when her daughter, Joolenli, raced into the room. Still all legs, the awkward youngster came to an abrupt halt alongside her father. Mem hooted with delight, then placed his right hand on the girl’s head.
As he stroked her feathers, Fey heard him say, “You must behave yourself today, Jool.”
“I know. Did you hear I’m going to meet Dawann-dracon? She’s so beautiful!” Jool glanced over at Fey, then back at Mem. “Mother says I must act like a lady.”
Fey-dracon’s mood brightened as she listened to her daughter’s giddy, high-pitched voice. Despite the fact Joolenli was nearing adulthood, Fey was still amazed she had been able to raise her own hatchling.
Back on Shurrr, it would have been viewed as a shocking choice in lifestyle. Raising hatchlings was a task for nursery drones, not female saurians, let alone famous scientists. The majority of females did not know, or even care about, the fruit of their own couplings; eggs were laid and hatched in breeding houses. Even with the current advanced state of genetic knowledge, few were interested in tracing their lineages, or in acknowledging their descendants.
But I know my precious little Jool, Fey thought lovingly. And I have Moozrabian society to thank for that.
Although living so near to the Keeper’s center of power concerned Fey, the scarcity of breeding houses on Moozrab made it acceptable to raise one’s own young. On the red planet, saurians like Fey had discovered that the rearing of children had its rewards. The concept of motherhood was now celebrated in Moozrabian art; the bold, new sculpture of the Mother and Child by Cree-dracon was already renowned throughout the land.
“Come. We must go,” Mem said as he grabbed Jool by the hand. He signaled to Fey with his eyes and turned toward the door.
Together, they moved into the hallway. Upon seeing the excited expression on the face of her child, Fey-dracon forced herself to subjugate her feelings about the Keeper. For once, she would forget her loathing.
She took Jool’s hand in her own and walked on.
Chapter 6
The jolly old beast
Is not deceased.
There’s life in him again.
~Edward Forbes, 1853
Dawann-dracon stood in the large entry hall of Mem-rax Labs, waiting for the greeting ritual to begin. She had experienced such affairs before; usually they consisted of a boring ceremony, replete with groveling dignitaries, monotonous speeches, and unappetizing refreshments.
But this was different, wasn’t it? Dawann glanced around in anticipation. Maybe the answers to her questions were in this building. After all, she had learned she’d been cloned here. She owed her existence to the work of Mem-rax and Fey-dracon. At any moment, they would appear.
If only they would help her. They had to help her!
She felt someone’s gaze on her. Turning, she locked eyes with Slaven-varool and trembled before his might. Slaven and the other imperial bodyguards stood in a half-circle around the Keeper; their sharp-clawed fingers barely touching the hilts of their laser knives; their flashing, sulfurous eyes scanning the crowd for any hint of trouble.
Slaven cast his glance away from Dawann, watching the crowd, his face seemingly impassive. Dawann knew it was an illusion, however. If anyone dared to threaten the Keeper, Slaven would strike out as surely and swiftly as a poison-fanged snake. She had witnessed one such incident five years ago, when a Shurrrian rebel attacked the Keeper at the
end of a banquet.
Dawann closed her eyes, remembering. The Keeper had just finished giving a speech celebrating a major victory over the terrorists, who had created havoc in Moozrabian tourist sites like the Great Rift Valley. The rebel had come out of nowhere and rushed the Keeper with a knife. After Slaven and the other guards wrestled her to the floor, they’d ripped her apart, eating her alive.
A shudder passed through Dawann just as Slaven growled. Her eyes flew open. Was it her imagination, or had he, for the briefest moment, bared his fangs to her?
Dawann started to flinch, but then caught herself. Hoping she had not given anything away, she turned aside. To her relief, the Keeper was gazing at her with undisguised pleasure, and she acknowledged his attention with a bow. She looked around the hall, hoping for a diversion, anything to keep her mind off her growing apprehension.
She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned. Coming down a corridor were a male and female accompanied by a youngster, and they were all holding hands.
The breath caught in Dawann’s throat. A family? Her mind was transported back to the parallel universe of her visions, and she remembered having a family, too, with human parents and––
Dawann jumped when someone touched her shoulder. “Over there. With the male and child. That’s Fey,” whispered Tima into Dawann’s earhole.
“I see her.” Dawann watched a Mem-rax employee hand a bouquet of pink flowers to the child.
Tima said, “I’ll try to get Fey aside. After the tour, you should be able to meet with her privately.”
“Yes.” Dawann dampened her excitement, assuming an imperial air. Leaving Tima behind, she walked forward until she stood beside the Keeper.
Dragon Dawn (Dinosaurian Time Travel) Page 4