Flight of the Golden Harpy (30 page)

“Dora is a young planet with wayward genetics that generates new species,” Watkins said, “and I’m guessing that the loca eagles and humans have the same amount of chromosomes, like sheep and humans. A man and a sheep can create a fetus, but it never survives. The procreation of a man and loca eagle produces the harpy hybrids that can subsist and are not sterile.”

“Why don’t the females have wings?” John asked, removing the disc and easing back into his chair.

“That’s the way genetics works,” Watkins said. “For example, take domestic house cats. A black female cat with black parents bred to an orange male cat with orange parents will produce a litter of orange, black, and possibly tortoiseshell kittens, but the male kittens will be black like their mother, and the female kittens are orange or possibly tortoiseshell like the father. The female harpies pick up the genetic trait from their human fathers, and the male harpies get their wings from the mother loca eagle. Now if the harpies had bred with the loca eagles, then all harpies would have wings.”

Dr. Watkins sipped his coffee and continued. “Like your wife, the female harpies occasionally pair with men, and that ensures wingless daughters. The female’s ability to be a chameleon and hide amide the human population has probably saved the species, but the day might come when female harpies stop taking men and in a few generations the females might have wings.”

“I thought my wife married me for my good looks.” John smiled.

“Speaking of looks, the harpies’ features are equally fascinating,” Watkins said. “These hybrids get their flawless faces, small noses, big eyes with long lashes and slender frames from the loca eagles. Human features are more diverse. Harpies are gorgeous and magnificent. It would be a crime if they became extinct.”

Doc leaned back in a comfortable chair. “We also did research on our senators who promote hunting and have a vendetta against the harpies,” he said. “It’s no secret that our senators are the descendants of the Dorial explorers who colonized Dora. We discovered the first recorded kidnapping of a woman by a male harpy. The woman was found, but went into shock and died. She was the daughter of one of the Dorial explorers, and she had to be a female harpy. Putting two and two together, it was our glorified founding fathers who raped the harpies. How else could one have a harpy child? This is not theory, but fact. We found the passenger list of
The Hampton,
the Dorial’s ship. There were no women listed on board, yet when the settlers arrived twenty-five years later, the Dorial men had daughters. Where did those daughters come from if not from the harpies? The Dorials created the lies about the male harpies to hide their own crimes. Even back then, it was a felony to molest or harm intelligent life-forms found on new planets. By categorizing the harpies as hazardous animals, there is no crime. Our senators are willing to exterminate the harpies to conceal those facts. If it came out that the harpies were harmless mortals, guilty only of rescuing their females, the scandal would destroy our senators’ reputations, and they would be booted out of office, especially if they were aware of their ancestors’ history.”

“There’s another reason the senators want to exterminate the harpies,” Watkins added. “If harpy DNA was compared to the Dorial explorers’ DNA it would verify the two are related and the explorers were guilty of raping harpies, but it also would establish that the senators carry harpy blood. Imagine their mortification!”

John got up and took out a bottle of wine. “Anyone want some?”

“I could use a glass,” Doc said.

John poured two glasses. “All these years I’ve believed some of those lies. I figured since the male harpies were raised in the jungle without civilization that they were wild ignorant creatures and different from the females who were raised among humans.”

“How did you meet your harpy wife?” Watkins asked.

“My father and I were cutting trees on a logging road behind the house,” said John. “I came across a lake with trisom trees. She sat under the trees eating the fruit, wearing a white gown. It was like a dream. This beautiful woman with long blond hair stood up and walked to me. She said she was a female harpy and had chosen me to be her mate. I felt like a spell was cast; I was instantly in love and didn’t care what she was. My daughter met her mate at the same lake.”

John took a gulp of wine. “Goddamn it! I should’ve figured those two men would take him. I had to yell at Sam for heading back to the cabin for the wings. Considering the price of gold wings, I should’ve protected her mate.” John swallowed more wine and rubbed his jaw. “My mind was on Kari. I learned three hunters had attacked her. But despite the danger, she’d run right back into woods with her golden male once the stunning wore off and he came for her. I just wanted time to talk to Kari, maybe convince her to stay.” He shook his head. “Guess no one could’ve convinced me to leave my wife, either.”

Doc stood up. “There’s so much darn grief surrounding these poor harpies. Maybe the disc can give them a decent future. It’s late, and I’m tired. I’ll check Kari and give her another dose of tranquilizers. The last ones should be wearing off.” He set his empty glass down and headed for the stairs.

John was finishing his second glass. “I’ll be right up, Doc.”

Watkins looked at the disc. “Would you mind if I used your equipment and made some copies? It makes me nervous that there is only one.”

John put the disc in the player, pushed the record key, and then headed for the stairs.

*   *   *

Doc pushed open the bedroom door and looked in. What he saw caused him to freeze. A brown-winged harpy leaned over the bed, its hand on Kari’s forehead. Seeing Doc, the male made a panic hiss and moved toward the balcony.

“Don’t go,” Doc said calmly. “You might be the only thing that can help her.” The harpy stopped in front of the balcony and stared at him. Doc heard John’s heavy steps coming up the wooden stairs. “Get back, John,” Doc whispered out the door and slowly went into the bedroom. The anxious harpy arched his wings and shook his long brown hair. One fast movement, and it would spook, darting out the balcony. “Easy, little fellow,” Doc said. “No one’s gonna hurt you.”

John crept toward the bedroom door and peeked in as Doc coaxed a skittish brown harpy to stay.

“Can you help her?” Doc asked the harpy. The threatened harpy made a low, seething sound and trembled badly. His gaze displayed indecision, shifting back and forth from Doc to Kari. Watching Doc’s every move, the harpy left the balcony and tiptoed back to Kari’s bed, where he again placed his hand on her forehead. “Good boy,” Doc encouraged him.

Kari slowly opened her eyes and drowsily looked up at the harpy. “Aron?” She weakly put her arms up to embrace him. The harpy bent over and nuzzled her, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck and bury her face in his coffee-brown hair. “He’s dead, Aron,” she whimpered. “Shail’s dead.”

*   *   *

Aron sensed the harpy depression had a firm hold on her. He normally would never enter a human house, but the harpies couldn’t afford to lose the precious golden female who carried their future ruler. He had planned to take her, but detected the helping drugs that slowed her heartbeat. “It is unknown if Shail is dead,” he relayed.

“My father killed him,” she said, using her human voice.

“He did not,” Aron relayed. “The fledgling saw all as he hid from the men. After you, Turner, and the men left, the fledgling entered the cabin and tried to wake Shail, but then heard the returning men and fled to the trees. On the beach, the men tied Shail with ropes, but he woke and fought them. They used their weapons, and Shail went limp. They placed him in the metal bird, and it flew away. The fledgling could not follow the fast flight. We cannot find Shail and do not know if he lives.”

Aron detected a second odor and whirled around, breaking free of Kari’s arms. Turner, a known harpy killer, stood in the doorway. To discourage an attack, Aron hissed, tossed his locks, and extended his wings while backing toward the balcony.

“John, you’re scaring the shit out of him,” Doc said. “Get out.”

John backed to the threshold. “Kari, tell him, I won’t harm him.”

Kari glanced at Aron, and he stopped moving away. He folded in his wings and stood in the balcony doorway. She wiped away her tears and stared at her father. “You didn’t kill Shail.”

“No, I only stunned him,” John said. “Tell your harpy friend to stay.”

“He senses your meaning. He’s not a stupid animal,” she snapped.

“Does he know where Shail is?” John asked.

“Two of your hired guns put him in a hover,” Kari said. “The harpies don’t know if he’s dead or alive.” She slid off the bed and attempted to walk. “Aron, take me out of here.” Feeling faint, she started to collapse. Aron bounded toward her, catching her before she hit the floor.

John rushed to help, but Aron held Kari and struck out with his wing, nearly smacking the man’s face. John backed away, and Aron bared his teeth, hissed and ruffled his dark feathers like a bantam rooster poised for a cockfight. Sensing Kari’s revulsion for her father, he would defend his golden queen and her wishes. Holding her, he buried his fear and stood his ground.

John eyed the slender male. “This is the one that protected you from the grogins?”

“You know about that?” she said, surprised. “Yes, his name is Aron.”

“Kari, I’m so sorry about Shail,” John said. “I didn’t want him hurt or captured. I promise I’ll do everything in my power to get him back. You belong with him. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you, but Shail asked me to keep you here. He wanted me to protect you and his son.”

Aron helped Kari stand, but kept his arms around her. “I know not Turner’s sound,” Aron relayed to Kari, “but there is truth and sorrow in his mind.”

Kari spoke to Aron with telepathy. “My father says that Shail wanted me here, but please, Aron, take me back to the jungle.”

Aron bent down and nuzzled the head of the clinging female. “Shail also relayed those wishes to me, saying you shall need your father’s strong arms if the harpies fail. It is better you stay until we know Shail’s fate. Do not fear. I shall remain until your death wish vanishes like a bad dream.”

Kari pulled her face away from Aron’s chest and looked at her father. “Shail spoke to you then?”

“Yes. He didn’t say much,” John said, “but what little he said left me overwhelmed. I’ve been wrong all these years about male harpies. He was no monster, but a devoted husband who loves you as much as I do.” He lowered his head. “Maybe more.”

Kari bit her bottom lip and tried to speak, but couldn’t. She hugged Aron again and wept.

Aron hugged her and wrapped his wings around her body as he defiantly glared at John, sensing the father’s longing to touch his daughter.

“Kari, I know you resent me,” John said, “and for good reason, but I hope you decide to stay.” He walked toward the door and glanced back at Aron. “Please take good care of her.” Doc followed John out and shut the bedroom door.

Aron breathed a sigh of relief, never before having confronted a man. “If Shail lives, the harpies shall find him.”

Lightning bolts lit up the jungle and meadows, followed by tropical gusts and sheets of rain. Kari and Aron stared out the balcony, and he felt a renewed spirit and a hope growing in her, knowing Shail might be alive.

*   *   *

John descended the stairs with Doc. “You didn’t give her the drugs. Do you think she’ll be all right?”

“I think that brown can do her more good than anything in my black bag, and she doesn’t know if her mate is dead or alive. That’s given her some optimism.”

“The odds are slim, but I hope he’s alive,” John said, and they reached the bottom of the stairs. “So you liked her golden male?”

Doc grinned. “What’s not to like? He’s nervy, loyal, and has the good looks to make women drool and men jealous. Yeah, I liked him, and I’m darn picky. I also got a kick out of that feisty brown, taking a wing swipe at you. I believe these slinky male harpies have been underrated.”

“For a change, we agree,” John said. “Let’s just pray her golden escapes those men. I’ll call the authorities and report that my hover and the harpy were stolen off my property. First thing in the morning I’m heading back to the cabin. Maybe I can pick up some clues.”

John and Doc walked into the den. Dr. Watkins approached Doc. “I’d like to borrow your hover,” said Watkins. “If I fly to Terrance tonight, I can catch the early commercial flight to Hampton. I’m eager to expose the information on the captain’s log, and my research computer is on the hover’s backseat. I’ll leave the extra disc copies here.”

Doc glanced at the rain pelting the windows. “It’s storming out there, but you’re welcome to it.”

“I’ve flown in bad weather.” Watkins left the front door and ran across the lawn through the rain. He hopped in the old hover and it soon lifted off. Its lights disappeared in the drenching dark clouds.

John shut the front door. “Doc, you might as well spend the night in one of the spare bedrooms. Tomorrow I’ll take you to the mill, and you can borrow a hover.”

“Good,” Doc said. “I’m in no hurry to get wet.”

Charlie took Doc upstairs to a room, and he then also went to bed.

John strolled into his den and placed a com call to the Terrance police department.

The officer filled out the information on the stolen hover, but stopped when John explained about his daughter’s missing pet, a golden male harpy. The officer looked up and mockingly grinned. “Mister, you want me to file a report on a stolen harpy?”

John glared at him. “That’s right. Put your sergeant on the com.”

The sergeant appeared on the screen. “Mr. Turner, the officer is new and wasn’t aware of who you were. We’ll put out an all-points bulletin on your hover and the harpy, sir.”

John thanked him and disconnected the com call. He filled another glass of wine and sat in the quiet, dark house. He sipped the wine, listening to the rain hitting the windows, and wondered if Kari had stayed or gone back to the jungle and harpies. Taking the last swallow, he headed upstairs.

At her bedroom, John nudged open her door and peered in. A small bathroom light dimly lit the room. Kari lay sleeping, coiled up on her bed, and in front of the open balcony, the brown-winged male rested on the floor. He jerked his head out of the feathers and flung the brown hair away from his alert green eyes. He stared at John and softly seethed a warning to stay out. The half human, half bird with the lean frame of a teenage boy was protecting Kari like a vicious little dog. “You’re a good boy,” John whispered.