Daughters of a Coral Dawn Page 7

  “The tides, Megan,” Jolan says softly. “Smoothly patterned but erratic in height.”

  “Wind-driven,” Dorcas responds, nodding. “It follows. There is much evidence of wind erosion. Some plains areas have a scoured appearance, the mountains are faceted, deeply sculpted. Wind may well be a problem to us, Megan.”

  “Mean density appears to be slightly less than five point five,” Erika says. “Further calculations are necessary but it appears gravity will be insignificantly less than Earth’s.”

  “Kendra, please recall the drones,” Megan says quietly. “Those who wish to may stay and further analyze data. But in eight hours full teams are to be assembled in the EV area. To prepare for landing on Maternas.”

  In the silence that greets these dramatic words, Mother climbs out of her big chair. “I’m so glad we’re landing. Orbiting makes me dizzy. Good night, my dear ones.”

  XIII

  2200.1.31

  Our four extravehicular craft have departed from Amelia. The path of Jolan and her hydrology team will be over the coastline and inland lakes of the temperate zone continent we have named Femina. It seems our best settlement possibility. We three others fly in spread formation, several thousand feet apart, our craft in continuous voice and instrument communication. Megan, Mother, and I are with Augusta’s team in EV-one, the command craft piloted by Kendra. Others of our Inner Circle travel in the other EVs. Venus is also with us; she sits with Miri, a botanist—a curvaceous young woman with a great quantity of tawny hair, who draws Venus’s gaze when Venus’s attention is not fixed upon the world below us.

  We drift over vast flatlands covered without break by wavy grass-like vegetation and low shrubbery blending gradually into scrub forest, blending further into thick forest intense with ivory-blue color. Miri and Ariel watch this land closely, murmuring into their recorders.

  A small grazing herd arrests our attention; the first animal life we have seen. Studying the magnification on her facsimile screen, Augusta states, “Much like Eohippus, the small primitive horse common in the North American West during the Eocene.”

  Soon we dip low over other herds of animals, some grazing, some dozing in golden sunlight. None seem startled or fearful of our low-flying presence.

  “Herbivores,” murmurs Augusta, “genus related to cattle, swine, tapirs. . . all ungulates. See how they lack fear? Carnivores seem the exception on this continent, not the rule.”

  “No dinosaurs?” Mother sounds disappointed.

  “That’s far from certain yet, Mother.” Augusta’s chuckle, soft and rich, matches the light chocolate of her skin. “There will be many different life forms on this and all the continents. But dinosaurs and their like were extinct by the late Cretaceous, the period before the Paleocene. Some birds may well be carnivorous—but they aren’t a dominant life form, we’ve seen none of any great size. We’ve seen no dominant life form as yet,” Augusta muses. “There may be predatory land-venturing sea life, possibly Crocodylia.”

  Erika’s voice comes from EV-two. “Megan, an earthquake fault lies directly below, the displacement is evident.”

  “I don’t care much for earthquakes,” Mother grumbles as we all stare at the distinct ridges in the land.

  “Nor I,” Venus says, gazing at Miri. “I prefer the earth to move in other ways.”

  “Faultlines will be considered along with all other data.”

  The flatness of Megan’s voice draws my attention; her eyes are just leaving Venus. They seem cloudy, unreadable.

  “Megan, sea level is stable, no unusual coastal erosion patterns.” Jolan’s voice comes from EV-four. “We’ve seen no sandy areas at all along the ocean shorelines, vegetation grows down to the tide lines.” Jolan’s voice has quickened in excitement. “Megan, marine life teems. Even from here we see great schools of fish, sea-going turtles—”

  “Also in accord with the Eocene period,” Ariel says.

  “We’re heading inland.” Janel speaks, pilot of Jolan’s craft. “We’ll intersect with you at sector seven.”

  Kendra acknowledges, with a glance at her topographic map. Sector seven is nearby, an inland lake of considerable dimension cut off from the ocean by a narrow wedge of land.

  We pass over a vast windswept area of dark, deeply etched rock. Erika says, “Magma—”

  “And deeply wind-eroded,” Astra says quietly from EV-three.

  “The plants,” Miri says in a pretty, girlish voice, “are the best indicators of—”

  “Megan!” It is Janel in EV-four. “Megan it’s a—We see

  a . . . a . . . a . . .”

  “Janel!” Kendra shouts. “Janel! Janel!”

  But there is no response.

  “Sector seven,” Megan orders tersely, “all EVs full speed.”

  Hera’s voice crackles from EV-two, “Kendra, they’re not down. We have readings—”

  “As do we.” Kendra’s voice is low and calm. Janel is her daughter, Hera’s granddaughter.

  At full power we arrive in only seconds at sector seven, a vast expanse of translucent coral water.

  “Great Geezerak,” Mother breathes.

  The apparition we approach stirs the hair on the back of the neck as it calls forth memory of a primordial past. The creature of nightmare rises at least fifty feet above the surface of the lake in full serpentine horror, its undulating body layered in slimy armor, the immensely high column of neck topped by a scaly head composed almost entirely of bulbous viridian eyes and row upon row of huge serrated teeth.

  We approach from the side of the creature, and we see on the horizon Janel’s craft. Drifting toward those waiting teeth.

  “Janel pull up!” Kendra screams, “pull up!”

  There is no answer.

  The creature glimpses us, swivels its monstrous head for an instant, the viridian eyes arctic cold.

  “Kendra . . .” A desperate whisper.

  “Pull up! Janel pull up!”

  “I . . .” The craft wavers, then resumes its fatal course. And the monster ignores us; it has returned its attention to the victim drifting ever nearer, scant seconds away from those waiting teeth.

  Kendra presses the firing stud; a laser flash dissipates harmlessly over the vast lake.

  “Kendra!” Megan shouts, “fly at it! Right at it!”

  Kendra pulls EV-one around in a sickening swerve and flings us full power at the monster, wild laser bursts flashing as she stabs the firing stud. Other laser flashes expend themselves over the lake; they come from EV-two and -three.

  “All EVs,” Megan orders, “full speed at its eyes! Full speed!”

  We are flying toward those gaping jaws, into annihilation. In my terror I seize Mother—to protect her or myself, I know not which.

  The creature’s waving head suddenly swivels from side to side as we fly into its field of vision; and tiny bubbles of blue blood appear as several of our laser bursts penetrate the armored body.

  An expulsion of breath from Kendra: seemingly inches from those teeth, Janel’s craft veers sharply away, flies up and over the creature’s head. The creature lunges at the craft, its teeth crashing together like a crocodile snapping at escaping prey.

  “Kill it! Kill it!” Kendra shouts. “All EVs fire! Kill it!”

  “No,” Megan says in a voice of forbidding command. “All EVs to sector six, full speed. And do not, absolutely do not look at that creature.”

  “Whatever you do don’t look at it.” Janel speaks from EV-four, in a whisper of compelling conviction.

  I am Minerva the historian, and as we speed past the creature, of course I look at it.

  I am overwhelmed by the desire—no, the need—to come to those viridian eyes; my body is anaesthetized with tranquility and joyful willingness to be absorbed into those viridian eyes . . .

  I am shaken out of my trance by Mother, who is saying in irritation to Megan, “Minerva was always the least obedient of all my girls.”

  I exclaim to Megan, “It’s telepathic!�
��

  “Yes,” she answers, “I know.”

  “Let’s kill it.” Kendra’s voice is low growling fury. “Megan, we’ll cover the lake with laser fire from high altitude—”

  “No, Kendra.” Mother is patting my cheek. “Are you all right, dear one?”

  “Yes Mother,” I murmur, still somewhat dizzy and confused.

  “Mother,” Kendra grates, “that horror almost killed my daughter.”

  “And mine. Demeter is on board EV-four. But all of you are my daughters. And we did not come to this new world to kill. Minerva dear,” she says gently, “would you mind getting off me?”

  Feeling supremely foolish, I release my grip on Mother and sit up and ask Megan, “How did you know it was telepathic?”

  “I realized when I heard Janel call Kendra’s name. We had distracted it—it had glanced at our craft—enough so that its telepathic grip on EV-four was broken for that moment. Then I knew our only chance was to cause distraction again in some way so that Janel could escape. Well-armored as it was, there wouldn’t have been enough time to mortally wound it before—”

  “Yes,” Mother says. “You know how I dislike detail, especially gruesome detail. Megan dear, if you had not vindicated our choice of you before—”

  “Ariel,” Jolan interrupts in a shaking voice from EV-four, “what was that thing?”

  “It’s like nothing I’m familiar with, Jolan. It somewhat resembles tylosaurus—a bizarre variation.” Ariel speaks calmly. “With its own highly effective method of food gathering—the rudimentary hypnotic powers of the reptilian species developed to a much more elevated state. First it attracts its prey with the vivid green of its eyes, then draws it with hypnotic trance—”

  “Green eyes will do that to you,” Venus murmurs. She is gazing at Megan, but strokes Miri’s tawny hair. At the height of our peril, Miri had flung herself into Venus’s arms; now that the danger is over, she shows no indication of extricating herself; she sits with her head on Venus’s shoulder.

  “Mother,” Augusta asks with a chuckle, “will this satisfy your wish for dinosaurs?”

  “Most definitely,” Mother says.

  Megan’s eyes rest briefly on Venus and Miri. Then she runs a hand through her dark hair and says, “A vital question. How prevalent is this lethal creature on this planet?”

  “I can make an educated guess about this continent,” Ariel ventures. “I would say very likely it is the only creature of its kind. From its size, it requires vast territory from which to draw food, such as that great lake in sector seven. We know there are no other lakes nearly that size on Femina. Another major clue is the ridge of land that separates it from the ocean. It appears to have been upthrust by sudden geological force—”

  “Correct,” Erika interjects.

  “Eons ago,” Ariel says, “our creature’s ancestors were probably separated from the sea by that ridge of land—”

  “We’ve named the creature GEM,” Astra says from EV-three. “Acronym for Green-Eyed Monster.”

  We all laugh. Ariel continues, still smiling, “From the appearance of its keratin scales, GEM appears to be of great age. If we’re correct in our theory that Maternas is following in its own unique fashion the general evolutionary path of Earth, then the equivalent age of dinosaurs has ended, and GEM is the last of its line.”

  Augusta speaks. “I agree completely with Ariel’s hypothesis.”

  “Very well, my dears,” Mother says. “But I want you both to know if we run into any more of these creatures, I’ll be seriously annoyed.”

  Grinning, Megan consults the topographical map. But she has swiveled her chair, I notice, so that its back is squarely to Venus and Miri.

  “I believe it would be good to feel land under our feet,” she says. “And to take a good look at our ocean at the same time. All EVs,” she orders, “set course for sector one. We land on Maternas.”

  XIV

  1.1.1

  MATERNAS DATE

  All our craft have landed, softly, amid waving fields of ivory-blue grass.

  “Mother,” Megan says, “you will of course be first to set foot upon your namesake planet.”

  “Don’t be silly, dear,” Mother responds, reaching up to pat Megan’s cheek. “Someone young and agile should assist the aged. Besides, something may very well be waiting to bite.”

  And so it is that Megan, laughing, first sets foot upon Maternas.

  We have visual recordings, of course—in addition to our preserved transmissions sent to those waiting on Amelia—of Megan leaping lightly from EV-one, and then standing proudly against the coral sky, her dark hair blowing in the wind, to survey our new world. Then holding out both hands to Mother. And Mother in her green cape, shoulders thrown back, grapefruit breasts thrust forward, stepping with indomitable dignity into the high grass of her namesake planet.

  I am next. After all, I am Minerva the historian.

  I step onto the wonderful firm land, into the sunlight, and walk weeping into rows of thigh-high bent grass, stroking the lovely blades of it, each blade a distinct pattern of ivory-blue, hearing behind me cries of joy as the others of our landing party also set foot upon our new world.

  The soil is a warm red, thickly covered between its strangely regular rows of grass by leafy growth and tiny buttercup-like blossoms. There is the hum of insects, the chittering of small animals, the distant thunder of surf. The air is caressingly soft, and smells richly—intoxicatingly—of grass and flowers and rain and ocean. My step is springy, and I must remind myself sternly of the dignity of my years to resist joining those who like children leap and cavort in the grass. Such considerations, however, do not inhibit Vesta or Diana or Demeter . . .

  I come upon Megan already at work, kneeling with Erika and Venus and Miri; they examine a shaft of grass they have pulled from the soil—and evidently with some effort.

  “Rainfall is plentiful, conditions ideal,” Miri is saying, “the root structure utter simplicity. Why then is it implanted in the soil with so very high a degree of security?”

  “Wind,” Erika answers.

  Megan asks with a smile and a playful tug at the auburn locks that flutter around Erika’s face, “Like this breeze, Erika?”

  Erika answers somberly, “All evidence points to wind, Megan, including surface configuration. It’s less severe here, more erratic, because this continent lies close to the equator. But the winds do blow here—in patterns we must study for our own safety.”

  Megan nods and takes the shaft of grass from Miri, whips it in a snapping motion to test the tensile strength, then lifts it to her mouth.

  Venus seizes Megan’s wrists in a grip of such strength that her fingers turn white. “Did you not listen to my instructions before we left Amelia?” Her voice is flat with anger.

  “I was only testing its properties, Venus. I didn’t intend to ingest it.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You must not touch anything to your mouth. You’re our leader, you have a duty to us not to be foolish. The immunization shots protect only against bacteria, not—”

  “I apologize.” Megan is looking down at the hands that slowly release her wrists. “Thank you, Venus.”

  “The grass is strong enough for many uses,” Miri says in the silence. “To create fabric, for one thing—”

  Miri has placed the grass in her analysis unit, and we turn our attention to insect life. “Coleoptera,” Miri says. “Many of these species are strange to me, but there are many beetles in just this area. If there is any kind of life so perfectly constructed and adaptable, that permeates the universe and will probably inherit it someday—”

  “Mother!” someone shrieks. “Something’s attacked Mother!”

  We run pell mell through the grass . . .

  A tiny furry creature is sitting on Mother’s arm, feet curled around it, looking up into her face. “Phosh, control yourself Astra,” Mother says.

  “Mother, stand perfectly still.” Kendra walks carefully toward her.
Megan approaches cautiously from the side.

  But Mother shoos them off with an impatient wave. “This dear creature won’t hurt anyone, I can tell by looking at him. If it is a him.” She grasps the creature, which makes a sound of whoof, and turns it over. “And assuming,” she says, looking down, “that the same rules apply here, then yes indeed, it is a him.”

  As Mother turns it right side up the creature whoofs again as if in total agreement.

  “Mother, it could bite.” Megan is smiling in spite of obvious effort to appear stern and concerned.

  Augusta is laughing. “Mother’s right. A tiny thing like that would never attack anything larger, and he leaped right into her arms. He’s just curious, that’s all.”

  “He’s much too cute to bite,” Mother states.

  Perhaps a foot in height, the creature has soft dark fur, four long clumsy-looking limbs, and huge dark eyes that gaze limpidly at me as it cocks its head and whoofs again. It is, indeed, adorable.

  Kendra walks to Mother and stands towering over her, hands on hips, grinning down at the tiny creature. “What is it, Augusta?”

  “A primate type, probably with a great many brothers and sisters of similar genus, none very large. His chest-beating descendants will come along eons from now, I would guess. And his sabre-rattling descendants eons after that.”

  Whoofing, the creature plucks at Mother’s sleeve as if puzzled; gently Mother touches, then strokes its soft fur. It utters more whoofs, gazing at Mother with its huge dark eyes, and curls up against her.

  “This Eocene period that all of you continually refer to, that this planet supposedly is in now,” Mother says, stroking the creature, “how long did it last?”

  Erika answers, “About twenty million years.”

  “Excellent,” Mother says, beaming. “Simply excellent.”

  Venus shrieks, “Vesta! No!”

  I no sooner see that Vesta has lifted to her mouth a berry she has found on a low fruit-covered bush than Carina has launched herself in a flying tackle and brings Vesta to the ground, then picks her up by the feet. In spite of my fear for Vesta, it is a hilarious sight, Carina shaking the upside down and thoroughly outraged Vesta until the berry pops from her mouth.