Dragon Dawn (Dinosaurian Time Travel) Read online

  Her eyes opened. Fears forgotten, she pondered the faint echoes of another universe.

  Another universe? But how could that be? The greatest thinkers in the Solar System believed there was no life beyond the temporal existence. You were conceived, you lived, and you died. Life was therefore very precious. Even though scientists had extended life to an average span of two hundred years, it was at the whim of the Goddess how long you lived.

  There was no other existence, though. Only the here, the now.

  Yet Dawann had lived somewhere else once, hadn’t she? On the blue-water planet, on Shurrr. No, it was called Earth then. Her mind roiled, brimming with impossible thoughts. Earth and Shurrr are the same place, but how?

  She swallowed, suddenly afraid, yet not willing to suppress her outlandish thinking. Somehow she had been born as a human on Earth. And in that other existence she had traveled by spaceship to a neighboring world, a place called... Mars.

  She looked out the window, seeing the ruddy sands of Moozrab, the glowing hills beyond the palace walls, this saurian colony called Missloo. Holy Mother She-Goddess, this is Mars. We call it Moozrab, but it’s Mars.

  She trembled, her feelings an unsettling mixture of fear and astonishment. When was her other life? How had everything changed? What was she remembering?

  Dawann abruptly recalled something more from that previous existence; she’d known and loved someone named...

  Gus. Yes. She knew with certainty the human in her vision, the one with yellow hair, was a male named Gus.

  She glanced around, eyes wide. Nothing made sense any more, absolutely nothing.

  She leapt to her feet and dashed across her bedchamber. Without looking back, she withdrew from the room, quickly closing the door behind her.

  Gus. Gus. Gus.

  Gus!

  As she ran down the long corridor, toward the Great Hall of Statues, the name echoed in her mind. The clatter of her toe claws against the polished stone floor shattered the silence, but she did not stop. Entering the hall, her gaze swiftly passed over statues of marble, gold, silver-gilt, and jade.

  She moved on, streaking past renditions of the Keeper and his favorite courtiers, including a new sculpture of her by the acclaimed artist, Eni-dracon. At any other time, she would have paused to admire her statue, for it was a beautiful work, carved from the finest Shurrrian jade, its translucent color perfectly matching her skin tone.

  But she didn’t care about it now. She wanted to find only one piece – and one piece alone.

  Her limbs ground to a halt before the statue of the Mother and Child. By the brilliant, cutting-edge artist, Cree-dracon, the sculpture had been carved from green-tinged marble, the fine tracings of muscle, arteries, and sinew giving it the appearance of living tissue.

  Dawann searched the Great Hall. Confident she was alone, she studied the lifelike statue. The feathers on the mother’s head were superbly rendered, as was the downy covering on the baby’s skin. The mother was bent over, her lips lovingly pressed against the hatchling’s tiny mouth. For the saurian race, it was a daring rendition of a startling idea; that a mother would actually care for and nurture her child.

  Dawann stared at the statue, at the beauty and wonder of it. She closed her eyes and hugged herself, imagining a downy hatchling in her arms. Now, she regurgitated into its little mouth. And then, she watched it swallow the food.

  She paused, reeling, for a feeling of utter emptiness overwhelmed her. She wanted to hold and feed a child – her own child – more than anything in the world.

  Touching herself on the belly, she looked down at her chest, suddenly possessed by the vision of an infant suckling at her swollen, pink breast.

  Stunned, Dawann reached up and felt her flat chest. She extended her arm and stared at her naked, green, snakelike skin. Breasts? Pink skin? In the name of the She-Goddess, what was she thinking? What did her visions mean?

  But Dawn had possessed two soft, rounded breasts on her chest, hadn’t she?

  Dawn? Dawann-dracon stood rooted, not even daring to breathe, as a distant voice rose in her thoughts. Dawn. So there it was, the name of her twin soul. She had once been someone called Dawn.

  “Dawn? Dawann?” she whispered. The similarity between her name and that of her vision startled her, made her feel more fearful than ever.

  Turning, she stared at a full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Slowly, with tentative steps, she inched toward the looking glass. Uncontrollably shivering, she dropped her gaze as she halted before it, her eyes tightly shut, afraid of what she might see.

  Inexplicably, Dawann sensed the presence of someone else, a watcher, and she forced herself to look up. But there was nothing unusual in the reflection, nothing strange. Swallowing, she couldn’t shake the feeling someone was there, yet her mind railed against it and she turned to go. Suddenly, she heard something faint, like the soft tinkling of Shurrrian shells on a wind chime. She whirled around just as the mirror shimmered and cracked, shattering into a thousand fragments.

  Dawann leapt away, but to her surprise no shards of glass fell, her side of the mirror still intact, the floor spotless. Incredible as it seemed, the mirror appeared to have broken from the inside, the pieces falling back into the looking glass, revealing another world.

  Staring back from the depths, an unfeathered biped had replaced her own reflection, a creature with distinctively mammalian features, including dark brown hair on its head and five fingers on each hand.

  Dawn? Human Dawn? The nictating membranes rolled over Dawann’s irises, and she feared she would lose consciousness. She breathed deeply and forced her eyes to clear. The vision of Human Dawn had vanished, the mirror now whole, and her saurian reflection stood there, as it had always been.

  Hissing aloud, Dawann wheeled about and stumbled blindly, frantically, out of the hall.

  She raced down the corridor. For the barest moment, she wanted to escape this universe. Her world was now upside down. Reality turned inside out. What had happened? Was she actually losing her mind?

  Dear Goddess, she prayed, please, help me, save me––

  Without warning, she ran headlong into someone tall and strong, the shock of contact forcing her to focus her gaze once more. The Keeper. The Exalted One. The most dreaded and mighty Lord of the Solar System.

  “What is it, my pet?” The Keeper’s hawklike face expressed concern as he held Dawann at arm’s length. He was naked except for an imperial sash of blue silk, which exactly matched his eyes. The muscles of his body were hard, his genital pouch bulging, proof of his power – and interest in her.

  Dawann looked around. Dozens of bejeweled, perfumed, and naked saurian courtiers and heavily muscled bodyguard drones stood behind him. Most wore blue contacts over their irises, a new style which Dawann had resisted adopting. The gossips at court had already spread their poison, noting she did this at her own peril, not realizing the Keeper had told her in private he loved her green eyes.

  “Dawann?” the Keeper asked.

  He sniffed the air, and she knew from his intense stare her body still wafted the scent of fear. His eyes narrowed as he studied Dawann’s face, then he dismissed his followers with a sharp hiss and a flick of his powerful tail.

  “Leave us now,” he demanded.

  They obeyed without a word. Bowing, they backed away and then to a saurian they whirled about and rushed off. Only the Keeper’s senior bodyguard, a towering, fang-jawed, dragon-green mutant named Slaven-varool, remained behind.

  Dawann waited in breathless silence, watching as the fiercesome Slaven fingered the hilt of his laser knife.

  “Go to my chambers,” the Keeper ordered Slaven. His tone was now more even-tempered, yet his great tail trembled as if he had the urge to whip someone.

  Slaven cast a brief, icy glare at Dawann. “As you wish, my lord,” he said as he backed out of his presence, then turned and left.

  The Keeper waited until the last of Slaven’s footfalls had died. “What is it, Dawann?” he
asked, staring into her eyes. This time, he lowered his head to her neck and lightly touched his teeth to her skin.

  Dawann’s stomach knotted, for the Keeper’s gesture was filled with implicit meaning. Immediately, she let herself go limp in his arms, showing complete submission to his will.

  “My throat is at your mercy,” she said.

  Into her earhole, he whispered, “What did you see?”

  “I...” Before she could get the thought out, her brain rebelled, and her mouth clamped shut. No, she told herself. You must not say anything to him.

  His head reared back, his bronze skin deepening in a show of anger. “Tell me.”

  Dawann forced herself to calm. She concentrated on the Keeper’s head feathers. Shiny as polished copper blades, they had recently been dressed with fragrant bango oil. She inhaled the sweet scent and lied, “I saw a Shurrr rat, my lord. By the statues. It merely startled me. They are so filthy.”

  His baleful expression cleared, replaced by a look of disgust. “A Shurrr rat? In the Great Hall?”

  “Yes. I overreacted, my lord. The rat must have escaped from the kitchens. The drones are sometimes careless.”

  “I see.” He released his grip and stroked his chin.

  “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 vision
s.”

  “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.”