Dragon Dawn (Dinosaurian Time Travel) (3 page)

“May I leave, my lord?”

“Yes. Go.” Staring distractedly down the hallway, the Keeper waved her off.

Heart thumping in relief, Dawann walked away without looking back. Only the soft
click, click, click
of her claws echoed off the floors.

Once inside her bedchamber, with the door closed tightly behind her, she felt a little better. 

She drew a breath and looked around. How long before the Keeper sensed her deception and discovered her truth?

And what exactly
was
the truth? What was she remembering?

Chapter 3

“I can’t explain
myself
, I’m afraid, sir,” said Alice, “because I’m not myself, you see.”

“I don’t see,” said the Caterpillar.

~Lewis Carroll,
Alice’s
Adventures
in
Wonderland

Hunched over her thinkbook, Dawann spent most of the afternoon trying to find an entry about her origins, but she met with no success. The lack of information puzzled her. Everyone had an entry; at least, that’s what she’d always heard. Frustrated, she also found herself wondering why she had never tried to find her records before now. Why had she been so unconcerned? What caused her lack of inquisitiveness? Sheer laziness?

Soft clawing sounded at the door. Without looking up from the crystal screen, Dawann distractedly asked, “Yes?”

“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness, but I have your banquet-supper.”

Already?
Unless there was a formal affair Dawann was expected to attend, Old Tima always brought the evening meals to her. However, it seemed a bit early. 

Glancing out the window, she was surprised by the slanting rays of sunlight. Her stomach growled and she realized she’d missed second lunch. Rising, she walked to the door. “Do come in,” she said, pulling it open.

Tima lumbered into the room with halting steps and low bows. A worker drone followed, loaded down with a tray of food. Dawann studied the little creature, with its mottled, golden-brown skin, reptilian head, stocky limbs and short, yet muscular, tail. Drones ate live mammals, squeaking, furry balls of wiggling flesh.   

Dawann fought her revulsion, letting her thoughts return to her vision of mammals as intelligent beings.
Humans
were self-aware and alive with purpose, unlike the primitive rats and stupid drones. The saurians – and the Keeper – were the only comparable species to
humanity
. More alien words flittered through her brain:
mankind
,
people, Homo sapiens
. Her mind railed in a storm of warning, madness threatening, and she trembled at the implications. What terrible trouble would she unleash with her strange thinking?

Tima cleared her throat. “Shall I share your meal, Your Highness?”  

Dawann’s heart beat wildly and she almost said no, but then she reconsidered. Perhaps Tima could help in her quest for information. After all, Tima was much wiser than she, having hatched over one hundred years ago on the home world, Shurrr. She had been one of the first colonists on Moozrab, and she knew a lot of history.

“Yes, Tima,” Dawann said, striving for calm. “Yes, I would enjoy the company.” 

Tima threw her a glance, but Dawann turned away and watched the drone set two places at the table. When the creature left, she took her seat and surveyed the repast; bowls of steaming broth laced with pungent spices, a fragrant, gelatinous, purple pudding, and a big platter of nano-assembled meat. Gone were the days when saurians ate living prey, or even dead tissue. Now the sensibilities of the pickiest members of her species had been assuaged, for micro-machines could assemble any food by rearranging the molecular structure of plant tissue. 

“Does Your Highness wish to be served?”

“No, Tima. And, please, we are alone. Formalities are unnecessary. Sit down.”

“Thank you.” Tima settled her bulk into the chair and took a sip of broth. “I can tell when you’re in a mood. What is troubling you, my dear?”

Dawann took no pleasure in hearing this. Old Tima could always read her mind. She glanced about, fearful of being overheard, but then forced herself to relax. No one was listening. This was her private chamber, and it was swept for listening devices twice a week, the last time yesterday evening. It was safe to talk.

“Who were my parents, Tima?”

Reaching for some nano-meat, Tima’s fingers froze in mid-air. “Your parents?”

“Yes. I know I was hatched here on Moozrab. Where is my birth record? There must be a genetic chip available somewhere. Who were my progenitors?”

“Why would you want to know such things? Most do not care.”

“You raised me, Tima, and I also remember being cared for by the worker nursemaids––”

“As most of us are, my dear. I must say, I don’t understand where this conversation is going.” Tima resumed her quest for the nanomeat. She found a big chunk and gulped it down whole. “Ahhh,” she said, loudly smacking her mouth. “You should try some. Very tasty.”

Dawann instead reached for a bowl of broth. After taking a sip and finding it too salty for her taste, she placed the bowl on the table and declared, “I don’t belong here.” She forged on, gaining courage as she slowly told Tima about her disturbing thoughts, until she finally revealed what she’d seen in her visions.

Gaping after hearing this last, Tima’s hands started to shake. “Oh Goddess, I feared this would happen.”

“What do you mean?” Trembling herself, Dawann clutched the table for support and leaned forward. “What do you know about this?”

“How do I begin?” Tima hesitated. “You did not hatch from an ordinary egg. You are a clone whose embryo was grown in a laboratory inside an artificial egg.” 

“A clone?” Dawann released the table and sat back, shivering with disgust. Clones were bred to serve. They were considered the lowest members of society: soldier-slaves and servant-drones. 

“But you are not the usual sort of clone,” Tima explained, her tone soft with sympathy. “You are a special creature, the Royal Consort of The One.”

Dawann felt no reassurance from Tima’s words. Although saurians fawned over her as a matter of course, proclaiming her the Solar System’s greatest beauty, she now realized she was as much a slave as any drone.

“Let me calm your fears, for I know how shocking this must seem,” Tima said. “You are different from every other clone in existence. Have you not wondered at your own perfection? Poets write odes to you. Artists create works in your image. I was told a flawless creature provided the genetic material to make you. She was a legendary beauty.” The nictating membranes of Tima’s eyes closed, then opened with a nervous flutter. “I hoped this day would never come.”

Dawann could not reply, her mind numbed to silence by a whirl of disbelief. 

Tima took a breath and looked at her, her gaze now steady. “You must not tell anyone about your visions.”   

“But what am I remembering?”

“I cannot be sure. I know only part of the truth; you were cloned with no real memories. That is the way, of course. The clone’s brain is as blank as any hatchling’s. But the Keeper has a machine that can preserve someone’s spirit, the ‘soul-catcher’. When you were first delivered to him, he took the entire royal court to see it, to use it on you.”

“Why have I never heard of this?” Dawann asked.

“I do not know,” Tima whispered back.

Dawann stared at her with newfound suspicion. “I think you do. It was deliberately kept from me.” 

When Tima did not answer, Dawann grew more determined than ever to draw her out. “Where is this soul-catcher? Tell me, Tima.”

“It is underground, beneath the Keeper’s chambers.”

Dawann visualized his luxurious abode. It was known within court circles that long ago his alien forebears had built a vast complex below the palace, obsolete rooms whose original purposes were lost to time – at least, that is what they’d been told. For safety and security, these subterranean chambers were declared off-limits. Access to the complex was restricted to weaponized robot drones and the occasional visit by the Keeper’s bodyguards.

Dawann trembled now, for she had never considered what secrets the ancient complex held, never had the nerve or desire to question, never thought to wonder
why
.

Tima looked into Dawann’s eyes. “Did you know the Keeper gave you the name Dawann?”

“
He
gave me my name?”

“Yes.” Tima went on to describe how Dawann had momentarily “awakened” as a baby and said words that sounded somewhat like her name. She then reassured Dawann no one else knew about this; it was a secret Tima would take to her grave.

Dawann paused, recalling her vision of Human Dawn. Had the Keeper known Dawn? But how? “I think I know where the name came from. But how shall I find out for certain?”

“You must not pursue this. It is a most dangerous path. This has happened before. I saw it with my own eyes. If you act upon this, I fear you will end up like your predecessors.”

Dawann sucked in her breath. It took a moment to regain her presence of mind, such was her shock. “Predecessors?” she finally managed.

Tima gave a little groan of agony. “It was a terrible time. I never knew why they were destroyed, but now, I fear––”

“They had visions, too?”

“Yes. When the Keeper found out,” Tima’s gaze grew hard, “he killed them.”

Crying out, Dawann placed her hands over her earholes. “Oh, my Goddess, stop, stop!” She dropped her hands and stared at her lap, trying to convince herself this was merely a nightmare. The Keeper had raised her from childhood. She had been his consort since she came of age. For two years, she had been his love. Did she really believe he could kill her?

Tima sniffed the air. “You must calm yourself, for I smell your fear.”

The Keeper smelled it, too
, Dawann recalled. She breathed deeply, willing away her emotions. 

“In his own way, the Keeper does love you,” Tima said, “but do not be lulled into complacency by his previous show of affection. He won’t
hesitate to act if he finds out about this. If you divulge your thoughts to him about these visions, he will kill you, also. After that, he’ll direct his scientists to bring forth another clone, who will...”

In a terrible flash, Dawann imagined a ruinous future.
She will take my place
, her thoughts finished for Tima.
She will take my place in his bed – and his heart
.

***

Dawann-dracon lay in her bed-nest, the diaphanous sheets soft and silky. The nano-fibers of the nest caused the pillows and mattress to conform to her body like a second skin. She felt as if she might actually be floating in the sky, dozing on billowy clouds.

But she was not.
No, no, no
. 

From her bed, Dawann glanced out of the window, watching the sky change from pink to gray and finally to deepest purple. The moons of Moozrab had risen, and double shadows flowed from objects in the room. A cushioned chair gave off two dark images as solid and square as a pair of worker drones. From table legs, black spindles curved on the floor, reminding her of the long, graceful necks of... 

Swans
. Dawann closed her eyes. A strange word, another earthly-alien name to puzzle over. She breathed, hoping for sleep to carry her off. But she could not banish thoughts of her visions, and of Tima’s disturbing revelations. 

She tucked her head under her arm and snuggled in. Unlike her remote ancestors, the small, nocturnal, hunting dinosaurs of ancient Shurrr, Dawann-dracon was unable to rest in the daytime. Millions of years of evolution had changed her species’ sleeping habits. Now, their waking moments were spent in the sunshine and they were creatures of the light. They slept at night.
Like
humans.

Dawann’s eyes flew open, visions of two-legged mammals crowding her skull. Suddenly, a claw raked at the door and she recognized the sound. Only one person would dare disturb her in the night, only one.

“Dawann, let me in. Please, my pet.”

The bidding was familiar and warmly put. With a sudden, aching desire, she found herself wanting to run to the door and fall into the Keeper’s waiting arms.

No, she had to keep her wits about her now. 

Rising, she pulled a sheer sleeping gown around her body. How to handle him? What should she do?

She knew full well he could not find out about her visions. Her life depended on it. He must not suspect what thoughts surged through her brain. 

Her hand reached the door and slowly, with unsteady fingers, she unlatched the bronze bolt. The door swung open and the Keeper strode in, took her in his arms, and carried her off to bed.

“Shall we use the rings?” he playfully asked as he placed her on the mattress and settled in beside her. The nano-components went to work immediately, making the nest conform to their shapes.

With an effort, Dawann controlled her feelings. A vision of the head rings rose, filling her mind. Worn over the brows of both sex partners, the rings allowed lovers to feel each other’s pleasure. And, to some extent, read the other’s thoughts.

Dawann said quickly, “The rings? No. Tonight I wish to feel primitive.”

“Primitive? Ah, that excites me.” The Keeper’s body moved hard against hers. In a heartbeat, he had penetrated her.

Looking into his eyes, she saw his passion, realized how much he wanted her. She gasped in surprise at his fervor, and then, with reluctance, she gave in to the coming sensations.

***

Hours later, Dawann-dracon lay in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the Keeper’s even breathing. She wanted to howl out loud, to wail with the mourning sounds of sadness, and her inner voice began a harrowing lament, with shrieks and squeals reminiscent of those made by small mammals in their death throes.