Noah's Ark

by Vijaya Schartz

As she climbed the three steps to the platform, Trixie nodded to the council members. Tabor rose from his seat. The handsome leader of the equine tribe wore burgundy pants tucked in black boots. A black leather baldric across his chest, and a wide belt held his many knives and a sword, as well as guns. His sleek black hair hung straight back, down below his shoulders.

  All the chairs at the high table faced the room. Not a convenient arrangement for conversation, but this was not a meeting. So, Trixie smiled as Tabor directed her behind the table. At the center, McLure, already seated, barely acknowledged her arrival and kept talking to a representative to his right.

  Trixie forced a smile. Tonight was McLure's turn to shine. Tonight was all about his work, so she suppressed a sarcastic comment. Besides, she didn't want to provoke him. Kostas' life might depend upon it.

  “Allow me.” Tabor, solicitous as usual, pulled out the other central chair for her.

  “Thank you.” When Trixie turned, she met Tabor's mustached grin and dark gaze glinting with more than friendship. Wraith!

  Instinctively Trixie searched for Kostas, then reminded herself that it was useless. Clones had no feelings. Tabor's incorrigible flirting couldn't possibly affect him… although she remembered her favorite soldier acting jealous, on occasions. But it must have been an act, like everything else she used to believe about him.

  “I missed you at the last riding class,” Tabor said with a slight accusatory inflection in his smooth voice. “I would gladly make myself available for private lessons to accommodate your busy schedule.”

  “Thank you, Tabor. I just don't have much time right now,” Trixie lied. She felt her face grow hot and stared straight at the festive crowd below her.

  When Tabor sat next to her, where Kostas always sat, she wanted to protest but stopped herself in time.

  Servers brought and served the food. Trixie ate but couldn't taste the delicious smelling dishes. Her mind remained on Kostas. Where was he? What was he doing? Her obsession with him started to annoy her.

  Beside her, Tabor smiled and talked, laughed, and complimented her, but all she could do was nod politely, and force a laugh when the joke called for one.

  After the main course, she rose to speak, and held up her hands to calm the applause. “I just want to welcome you all to this feast. I hope you are enjoying Fedora's cooking.”

  A round of cheers forced her to pause for a moment.

  “I want to introduce our hero of the day, Professor McLure, who will explain the reasons for this celebration.”

  McLure barely glanced at her as he rose and straightened his impeccable dark blue silk suit.

  “Dear friends,” he stated, in a surprisingly strong voice. “I am delighted to report the Noah’s Ark's project, despite a shaky start, has now been implemented. The containers have been deposited and timed for automatic release at the ideal moment, when the conditions are perfect. This planet has been officially seeded with life.”

  Under the onslaught of applause, McLure stopped and gave a slight bow.

  “Within a few weeks, the first animals will emerge. If all goes according to plan, within a decade, this planet will become a paradise for wildlife... at least in the warmer areas, and these areas are growing exponentially.”

  Whistles and another round of applause interrupted him.

  “Tomorrow, we will plant the genetically enhanced seeds that will thrive in this rich soil. And come summer, we shall finally live off our own crops.” McLure raised his mug of hot kawa. “Thank you for appreciating my work. I was glad to contribute. To Noah’s Ark!”

  “To Noah’s Ark!” The guttural response came from a thousand enthusiastic settlers.

  When the general roar abated, the musicians executed an energetic tune, and a number of couples met in the clear space at the center of the hall. Moving in simple patterns, they danced to the joyous rhythm of the music.

  “Would you care to dance?” Tabor's caressing voice suggested from her left.

  As hard as Trixie tried to ignore Tabor, she realized she couldn't refuse without creating a public incident. She didn't want to alienate Tabor, an influential member of the community. She forced a smile and nodded.

  Tabor took her hand and led her down the platform steps, and around the tables, toward the dance floor. Trixie knew how to dance. Her father had paid the most reputable teachers extravagant sums of money to make sure she did. Her social skills had served his purpose… until she ran away.

  Tabor proved to be an excellent dancer as well. Slimmer than Kostas, he had stamina, rhythm, and an innate elegance, mixed with a wild streak that probably came from working with spirited horses. She struggled not to withdraw when Tabor's hand lingered on her waist after each turn. She noticed the way he smiled at her when they faced each other, the way he winked when she forced a smile back.

  This was a real man, not a clone. The kind of man Trixie should be considering, but her entire being rebelled against the idea. Everything about Tabor only reminded her that he was not Kostas.

  No electricity tingled between them. No tendrils of desire took hold of her when they touched. She couldn't imagine Tabor naked, although she had no doubt he was magnificent. The looks of envy and admiration from the other women confirmed it. As much as she tried, however, Trixie found no pleasure in Tabor's company.

  * * *

  Kostas couldn't believe Trixie had replaced him so easily. She smiled at Tabor, and at everyone else but him. How he longed for her to smile at him, just one more time, before he faced the execution squad. For that's what would await him as soon as the word of his true nature spread among the settlers. He wondered why they hadn't come to arrest him yet.

  Each day without Trixie seemed like an eternity. So much so that he couldn't stay away from the mess hall despite the possible consequences. Keeping to the pools of dimmer light created by the limited illumination of the torches inside the refectory, he watched them. The term unusual and cruel punishment came to mind.

  He wanted to squish that pretty boy Tabor into a pancake. Make him swallow his tongue. How dare he take advantage of the situation and steal his woman! Kostas couldn't stand the possessive way the man held Trixie's waist as they walked toward the exit of the mess hall.

  Kostas followed them outside. Like a Ninja on a stealth mission, keeping to the shadows, blending with the stone walls, balanced on the rooftops, silent on padded feet, he trailed them, unseen. He strained his enhanced hearing to capture Trixie's clear laugh. He cursed Tabor's audacity. Hot rage exploded in his chest each time the man spoke into Trixie's ear or pushed back a strand of her short blond hair.

  Part of him realized that Trixie would be better off with Tabor, an honorable man and respected leader. But the part of him that missed Trixie so much didn't listen to reason. He loved her, and love, he realized, was an irrational, dangerous emotion. To think of it, all emotions were irrational and dangerous. So, what he experienced was part of being Human... except that he wasn't.

  But Trixie was. And she laughed at Tabor's jokes and smiled when it was expected, but Kostas could also read her body language. She remained guarded. She didn't trust Tabor. She didn't want him. She only told him what he wanted to hear but she never looked into his eyes. She never faced him squarely, never came closer on her own, even stepping back slightly each time he encircled her shoulders to pull her closer.

  As they stopped in front of her lodgings, Tabor's body language grew more forceful. He brought Trixie against him for a kiss. But Trixie pulled away, although not as fast as Kostas would have liked. Then Tabor grabbed both her arms and forced her to face him.

  Leaping down from the outside stairs of an adjacent building, Kostas walked casually out of the shadows and into the moonlight, toward Trixie and Tabor. He saw relief in Trixie's face when she spotted him. She did not protest his presence, didn't order him away.

  “Hey, Tabor. Isn't it a great night?” Kostas kept his voice friendly despite the rage eating at his gut.

  “Indeed.�
� Tabor straightened and cleared his throat.

  “If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to steal my girl while I'm working my butt off.” Kostas casually walked up to Trixie, kissed her cheek and encircled her waist.

  “Your girl?” Tabor's expression turned worried. “I'm sorry, Kostas. I didn't know. I thought...”

  The bastard thought that because he'd been accused of being a clone in council, he would relinquish any right to a real woman. But until he faced execution, Kostas wouldn't relinquish anything. “We've been discreet. I just wanted you to know that she's spoken for.”

  “Trixie? Is that true?” The shock on Tabor's face turned to horror, probably at the thought that she was dating a possible clone.

  “Thank you for the dance, and for walking me home, Tabor.” Trixie leaned into Kostas and smiled. “We can take it from here.”

  She offered Tabor her hand.

  Tabor took it and briefly kissed her fingers, his uncertain gaze darting from her to Kostas and back. “The pleasure was all mine.”

  Tabor turned on his heel and walked away at a good clip. Kostas smiled inwardly. Not even the bravest of men ever wanted to piss off a Space Marine. And apparently, despite McLure's accusations in council, Kostas hadn't been proven guilty yet, or Tabor would have reacted very differently.

  Kostas had no doubt he owed that respite to Trixie. She could have told everyone, but she'd kept his dark secret. That warmed his heart.

  As soon as Tabor disappeared around the corner, Trixie detached herself from Kostas. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

  “I know. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  Trixie smiled. “Thanks. I was trying to get rid of him nicely, but he doesn't seem like the kind of man who can take no for an answer.”

  “Always glad to serve.” Kostas intentionally used the dedicated clone phrasing. Then he saluted and walked away.

  “Kostas, wait!”

  Something cheerful and buoyant bubbled inside him. He turned back, his chest welling with hope. “Yes?”

  “I'm sorry about the way I reacted the other day.” She bit her lips. “I was distraught, and out of line.”

  “I understand. Strong emotions can make you irrational.” Kostas found himself grinning. “Thanks for not telling the council.”

  “I wouldn't think of betraying you.” She smiled back.

  His world suddenly flared brighter.

  “I hope it doesn't come to that,” she added. “And it probably doesn't matter to you, but if McLure ever comes up with proof of your origins, I will be devastated.” There was a tear trembling at the brim of her eye.

  Kostas wanted to kiss that tear. His throat clenched. His voice croaked. “I miss you terribly.”

  “But how can you possibly feel that?” Her eyes widened slightly.

  “I don't know why or how. I just can.” And it hurts like hell.

  She rose on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He leaned into her kiss and hugged her svelte body, savoring her closeness.

  “Hiding makes you look guilty,” she said, slightly out of breath. “You should make yourself more visible.”

  “I will.” He wanted to kiss her like she deserved to be kissed.

  But she knew what he was. And since she seemed more accepting of him, he didn't want to push his luck. If friendship was all she offered, he would take it. He would not ask for more. He didn't want to scare her away. He would take it one look at a time, one hug at a time, one kiss at a time, until she trusted him again. Or until he died.

  Chapter Fourteen

  McLure considered the simple earthenware mug resting on the immaculate white counter of his lab on the Goddian ship. It seemed incongruous among the array of rainbow crystals and the slick, white instruments lining the shelf above it. With his part of Noah’s Ark's project completed, he still had one more task to accomplish.

  It hadn't been easy to collect a DNA sample. The soldier jealously guarded his secret as a clone, and probably made a habit of destroying all hair cuttings, nail clippings and other incriminating biological matter. But McLure had managed just the same.

  At the spring planting he had cheered the workers who'd volunteered extra hours of work in the plains, beside their shifts in the mine. Kostas had dismantled and refitted the blades from the snow plow, now useless without its power pack. Tabor volunteered his sturdiest steeds to pull the blades through the fields with a contrivance of padded collars and harnesses.

  After the kitchen drudges set up trestle tables and benches in the rutted path bordering the fields, they brought the food to the workers, to speed up the schedule. McLure, playing the congenial scientist, had shared their communal meal in the outdoors. Seated among the sweaty workers, next to Kostas, he smiled and talked about his genetically engineered seeds, and complimented the settlers on their hard work.

  Toward the end of the meal, when a tribal leader had called Kostas away from the table, McLure switched kawa mugs with the soldier. Amongst all the activity and excited conversations about the planting and the future crops, no one noticed.

  Now, McLure must unlock the precision instruments of this fantastic lab... without Prince Ktal's knowledge. Then, he would be able to obtain the irrefutable proof he needed... proof that Kostas was a clone.

  With that concrete evidence, he would make sure the council passed judgment and condemned the AWOL clone soldier to death. No matter how useful Kostas had been on this expedition, his crime was unforgivable. It was a matter of principle, for the protection of the Human race.

  * * *

  From the top of the ramparts, Trixie gazed upon the pregnant fields in the amber glow of sunset. The plains below bared their dark soil, striated with long furrows. She could smell the earthy fragrance of freshly planted fields.

  Within a few days, the fields had been plowed, the grain sown. The fruit trees, accelerated to maturity in McLure's lab onboard the Goddian ship, were dutifully planted in their dedicated orchards. Tabor personally oversaw the layout and the planting of the vineyards, on the low southern slopes of the mountain range. Apparently, the horseman was also an expert on growing grapes and making wine.

  A peaceful routine settled over the entire community. It almost reminded Trixie of home. Finally, a sense of belonging, a sense of peace had descended upon the citadel. The days warmed and lengthened, and spring showers moistened the ground. She slapped at a buzzing mosquito. McLure's first insects had also made their appearance.

  Each day Trixie felt more and more comfortable in the citadel. Tabor had scaled back his ostentatious flirting. Kostas seemed to have accepted her friendship. McLure still hadn't brought up proof of his cloning, and Trixie suspected he didn't have it. Through all this, she dared to hope lasting peace and harmony would reign among this Human community.

  A thundering roar made her look up to the sky. An enormous spaceship pierced the clouds and decelerated for a vertical landing above the mine site beyond the northern gate of the citadel. And it wasn't the familiar Goddian ship where she'd negotiated with Prince Ktal. This was a boxy, unadorned, forbidding black vessel.

  A twitch of uncertainty twisted Trixie's gut. Wraith! She suspected this was one of the barges sent to collect the ore from the mine.

  She ran down the stone steps lining the inside of the fortress wall. Once at the bottom of the stairs, she un-tethered her gray mare, still saddled from her evening inspection of the fields.

  “Easy, Philomena,” she crooned as she caressed the long nose of the animal, frightened by the noise and the vibrations.

  As the rumbling lessened, the mare finally calmed down and Trixie was able to mount. Then she clicked her tongue, pulled the reins and spurred the gray up the streets, iron clad hooves clattering against the cobblestones. She rode toward the upper part of the citadel, where the roar of engines had now ceased.

  The barge had landed. Trixie realized the square mile, stone platform by the mine shaft, was a landing pad. Of course, it would be.

&nb
sp; As she negotiated the narrow streets on horseback, now quite accustomed to Philomena's gait, Trixie wondered how the Godds were going to load the behemoth. The extracted ore was stored deep underground, and the lift seemed only fit to carry workers.

  * * *

  In the privacy of his chambers onboard his spaceship, Prince Ktal looked down to his lap where he twisted his six-fingered hands. “But, My Lord Emperor, I promised these Humans that the Goddian Empire would treat them fairly, I gave them my word.”

  “It doesn't matter. We have no other choice.” Emperor Kobel's obsidian glare pinned him from the height of the amber and gold throne image suspended in midair. “The survival of our race depends upon it.”

  Ktal nodded politely to the hologram of his sovereign. “I understand, My Lord Emperor. Still, enforcers...”

  “Are a necessary evil.” The sanguine face of the emperor relaxed. He pushed back a long strand of glossy raven hair, the movement making the black silk of his robe shimmer under the lights of his throne room in faraway Godda. “If we do not get that ore to our shipyards immediately, we might as well hand over our lives, our colonies, and our home planet to the Reptoids. They are squeezing our borders a little more each day.”

  Ktal shuddered at the thought of the lizard-skinned humanoids dragging their swishing tails through Godda's white palaces. “I will not fail you, My Lord Emperor.”

  “I am counting on you, dear nephew.” The emperor's gaze softened for a moment, and Kobel looked like the kind uncle Ktal remembered from childhood. Then the hologram fuzzed out of focus and vanished.

  Ktal let his shoulders drop and sighed, then he glanced up at the opening iris door.

  Kuhr rushed in, out of breath, his crimson robe slightly askew. “The first barge has landed, My Prince.”

  “I know. And I curse the day I accepted this mission.” Ktal's new orders weren't part of the original plan.

  “What's wrong?” Kuhr's brow knitted. “Everything looks good. Despite many setbacks, we are almost on schedule.”