Ben Bova – Orion in the Dying Time. Book 2. Chapter 17, 18, 19, 20

My voice choked with a tangle of emotions. She was a goddess, yet she would never abandon me. Never.

We stood facing each other for a few moments more, then decided to start walking around the edge of the lake, for lack of any better plan. The duckbill trotted after us, silently following Anya.

How can two human beings fight a thirty-ton tyrannosaur with little more than their bare hands? I knew the answer: They can’t. Something deep in my mind recalled that I had killed Set’s carnosaurs in the Neolithic with not much more than bare hands. Yet somehow the tyrannosaurs seemed far beyond that challenge. I felt hopeless, powerless; not afraid, I was so depressed I was beyond fear.

So we walked through the deepening night, the glistening froth of the gently breaking waves on our right, the sighing trees of the woods on our left. The moon rose, a crescent slim as a scimitar, and later that blood red star raised its eerie eye above the lake’s flat horizon.

Anya was thinking out loud, in a half whisper: “If we can find one of Set’s people, capture him and learn from him where Set’s camp is and what he’s trying to achieve here, then we could form a plan of action.”

I made a grunting noise rather than saying out loud how naive I thought she was being.

“They must have tools, weapons. Perhaps we could capture some. Then we’d be better prepared….”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her what I really thought of her daydreaming.

“I haven’t seen any weapons or tools of any kind on them,” I muttered.

“Set has a technology as powerful as our own,” she said. I knew that by “our own” she meant the Creators.

“Yes, but his troops go empty-handed—except for their claws.” Then I realized: “And the reptiles they control.”

Anya stopped in her tracks. “The tyrannosaurs.”

“And the dragons, back in Paradise.”

“They use the animals the way we use tools,” she said.

Our baby duckbill snuffled slightly, just to let us know that it was there in the darkness, I think. Anya dropped to one knee and picked it up.

My mind was racing. I recalled another kind of intelligent creature who controlled animals with their minds. The Neanderthals and their leader, Ahriman. My memory filled with half-forgotten images of the suicidal duel he and I had fought over a span of fifty thousand years. I squeezed my eyes shut and stood stock still, straining every cell of my brain to recall, remember.

“I think,” I said shakily, “I might be able to control an animal the same way that the humanoids do.”

Anya stepped closer to me. “No, Orion. That ability was never built into you. Not even the Golden One knows how to accomplish that.”

“I’ve looked deeply into the mind of Ahriman,” I told her. “Many times. I lived with the Neanderthals. I think I can do it.”

“If only you could!”

“Let me try—on your little friend here.”

We both sat cross-legged on the sand, Anya with the sleepy duckbill in her lap. It curled up immediately, tail wrapping over its snout, and closed its eyes.

I closed mine.

It was a simple mind, yet not so primitive that it did not have a sense of self-preservation. In the cool of the evening it sought Anya’s body warmth and the sleep it needed to prepare itself for the coming day. I saw nothing, but a symphony of olfactory stimuli flooded through me: the warm musky scent of Anya’s body, the tang of the lake’s sun-heated water, the drifting odor of leaves and bark. My own mind felt surprise that there were no flowers to add their fragrances to the night air, but then I realized that true flowering plants did not yet exist here.

I opened the duckbill baby’s eyes and saw its world, murky and indistinct, blurred with the need to sleep. An overwhelming reluctance to get up and leave the protection of Anya’s mothering body welled through me, but I rose shakily to all fours and slithered off Anya’s warm lap. I half trotted to the lapping edge of the water, sniffed at it and found no danger in it, then waded in until my tiny hooves barely touched the muddy bottom. Then I turned around and made my way gladly back to the motherly lap.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *