Resurrection Dawn

by Marc Secchia

  Bursting through a screen of foliage, Samodeé bugled a jubilant welcome. Red, Goldie, Gold, Platinum and Emerald reacted as if they had been stung. Mewling at the top of their lungs, they flitted over to mob Mama Dragon and their big sister. Emerald wriggled so hard she could not even fly. Alodeé had to execute a swift catch. Well, that was before Red’s enthusiasm knocked her right off Samodeé’s back. He caught her by the hair, Goldie by the leg and they wrestled her back onboard again.

  Not entirely appreciated.

  Red licked her chin twenty times in an apologetic frenzy. Oh, fine. Her forgiveness was far too easily bought, clearly.

  “Hold still,” she said.

  He sniffed at her backpack, flared his wings and bared his fangs.

  “Red, this is an important job,” she said. “Can you help?”

  Apparently not, but it was Emerald who pressed forward to show that he was a complete wuss and she was the brave one and … yep, she very nearly set off a minor draconic war. Samodeé calmed the overwrought dragonets while Alodeé touched the medbot probe to Emerald’s tongue to take a sample and set the algorithms running. Isska and Asmurti, her partners in crime, had prepped this recursive algorithm to yield a much faster rough result within about 10 mins or so, as opposed to the standard 3-5 hours for genetic matching. They had also hacked the med records to pinch Dymand’s genetic print off the Central database.

  Best friends ever!

  Sweet that they had turned into criminals just for her, too.

  Gold and Goldie now proceeded to insist that they provide samples as well, while Platinum gave her an uncharacteristically fiery-eyed glare and acted like Alodeé had stuck week-old carnoraptor meat underneath her armpits. She uploaded the two additional samples to her rascal friends via the interface – which actually worked through the usual interference, to her surprise.

  Now, the terrible wait.

  Poor Samodeé; she smiled on the outside while nearly dying on the inside. The sec the machine pinged, she nearly shed her scales. What? Speak to me, Alodeé.

  Shaking, she scanned the output. Ugh, come on, where’s the overall –

  Please!

  Confirmed match to Dad. Mom, it’s 99.5% already.

  Holy Resurrection Dawn! Alodeé – her Mom let out a long, shuddering gasp – how’s this even possible? I’m delighted. Of course! But …

  No idea. Her Comms peeped. “Asmurti? Report.”

  “Stat. You slicing bits off your siblings out there, or what?” her friend’s tiny picture demanded. “99.6% match and rising as the recursion routine runs through. You want us to initiate full statistical analysis, all vectors?”

  “Please. Dad will – freak out! Yep, he likes the detail. Do it.”

  “Initiating.”

  Samodeé put in, “Asmurti, do you think we’ll need a resuscitation machine on standby?”

  The image giggled; she heard Isska’s deeper laugh through the encoded link as well. “No, Samodeé, but I do think you’re mean to tease him and Tomaxx like this.”

  “We like to keep our men hopping, don’t we, Alomonster?”

  “Sure do. Just a little tease,” she said. “Won’t let them stew too long, anyways. Asmurti, any ideas or data that shed any light on how Mom could have had babies twelve years after she and Dad last … you know?”

  “Nope. You’re one freakishly amazing Dragoness, Samodeé – with respect,” her friend chortled. “Asmurti out.”

  Samodeé tickled her beneath the chin. “You are beyond terrible, do you know that?”

  “Yep. Got it from both sides, I guess.”

  She bugled, “Up to Settlement Central, everyone! Let’s meet the Humanoids!”

  “Funny bunch, for sure,” one of the other Dragons murmured, as best she could tell in her fledgling Pyromelodic.

  The Dragons picked up the pace, rising into the lightening violet hues of the day. Some flew slowly or even with support, due to their recent injuries and so the return journey took nearly four times longer to complete. By then, the equivalence values had ticked up to 99.8187%.

  Dad’s in trouble.

  Samodeé glanced down at her paw. Got a good view there?

  Tucked up in Mom’s paw, Alodeé peeked through a crack between her knuckles. I’m good. Let’s do this.

  The Dragons glided quickly down toward the plascrete apron of the Spaceport, which really ought to be called the Dragonport nowadays. Certainly, the Dragons that used it outnumbered the Humanoid vessels by a couple of orders of magnitude.

  Spying out Dymand and Tomaxx with her exceptional Dragon eyesight, Samodeé directed the dragonets toward them. She had alerted Emerald to a ‘game’ they planned to play. The men waited together with a number of Dragons on the apron near Controller Yazin’s tower. Asmurti whirred up to them in her hover chair, along with Maruski and Isska, who had sprouted no less than eight legs for the occasion. Far too flexible for their own good.

  Her Comms link came alive. Isska said, “Oh look, Samodeé has little ones? What do you call baby Dragons, Dymand?”

  “Eh?” he spluttered.

  Tomaxx said, “They’ve got four wings and – Holy Resurrection Dawn! That one’s –”

  Her Dad’s mouth opened in a perfect, round ‘O’. “My – what the – Alodeé?” He spouted a stream of colourful imprecations. “Surely not? Alodeé?”

  Her boyfriend echoed, “Alodeé?” at a soprano pitch of amazement she would have sworn no man his size could ever produce.

  Wicked laugh!

  The two men gasped and vied with one another to zoom off to totally the wrong conclusion, while Alodeé tried very hard not to kill herself laughing. Emerald really did look a great deal like her, didn’t she? Similar size, too, which was the genius of this little joke. She might better have slugged Tomaxx in the gut with his own photonic hammer, the way he responded. Which, ah …

  Guiltily, she squirmed inside her Mom’s paw.

  “One min,” Samodeé chortled. “I’m having far too much fun with this.”

  Changed your tune a touch, Mom?

  Dymand and Tomaxx gasped again as one through the Comms link her co-conspirators had established. “It is her!”

  Then, they stared at one another and spluttered, “You heard that?”

  Men in stereo.

  Touching his temple, Tomaxx said, “I … yep. I believe you do the same?”

  “I do!”

  The dragonets landed alongside Samodeé, staring curiously at the two men. They stared right back, especially at Emerald, who preened, looking mightily pleased with the effect she was having. Dymand had something approaching a coughing fit as it clearly dawned on him what this might mean. The Dragoness opened her paw.

  “Surprise!” Alodeé said brightly, standing upright.

  Tomaxx looked rather more relieved than she felt ready to forgive just now. After all, it was entirely possible that she’d sprout two pairs of wings one of these or those days, too. One great reason to try to figure out how this Dragon business worked, but … not just yet. Tomorrow’s job.

  Today was for celebrating.

  Dymand choked out, “Samodeé, explain?”

  So many emotions! So brittle, so lovely that a note of hope immediately touched his voice as he gazed at the curious dragonets. Gold ruffled his wings importantly, while Red acted aloof. Goldie and Platinum, perhaps sensing the gravity of the occasion, peeked from behind Samodeé’s legs. Emerald rubbed against Alodeé’s legs as if to stress how similar they looked – very similar, judging by Tomaxx’s huge eyes!

  With a rasping inhalation, Mom said in a rush, “They’re ours, Dymand. I … I don’t know how. Born just a couple of weeks ago – tell him, Alodeé.”

  “Ours?” he croaked.

  Clearly, his mind was going, ‘One, two … uh, four … five! All mine?’

  She said, “Isska and Asmurti helped me prep a medbot to run genetic testing just now, on the way up. We are – well, you can see on my holo here, up to 99.8301% certainty that you a
re the father of these dragonets. We –”

  “Give me that scan! Twelve years – it – it just doesn’t –”

  Dymand stopped rasping and growling as he and Tomaxx pored over the data. His breath hitched as the Oraman pointed out the bottom line figure.

  A tear dripped onto the screen.

  Oh, Dad! Awesome, right?

  “Five is … amazing!” he gulped. “That’s, like, quintuplets? Samodeé! This is just the most incredible news! I mean, who would have thought, after all this time – aren’t you just the most – I’m overjoyed, obviously!” He capered over to throw his arms around her nose. “You! How do I even hug you properly? You rascals, you led me to believe – and this? You’re all mine?”

  Samodeé beamed, “Well, I just – this is Red and Platinum … come out, darling and meet your father. Here’s Emerald …”

  “Daddy?” Red chirruped, in Pyromelodic.

  Speech came early. What took her breath away, however, was the way that Red sniffed her Dad’s hand, before moving immediately to make friends with him, demanding a back scratch. Absolute certainty. Emerald did the same, giving him a cursory one-sniff approval before moving in for a cuddle of her own.

  Her father took a sec to whack her arm. “You troublemaker! Can’t believe you didn’t breathe a word about this. What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”

  “I guess that officially makes you the father of the Dragon,” she grinned.

  “I am. I am!” He danced off again.

  Wow, Dad. Happy much?

  Tomaxx stooped to kiss her cheek. “You so had me going there, Alo – you little brute!”

  “Brute?” Leaping up to grab his shoulders and planting her feet above his knees, she deposited an emphatic kiss on his lips. Grief. 64 cents height difference? If ever a relationship needed a ladder for kissing … she growled, “None of this on-the-cheek nonsense, Tomaxx. I’m very demanding. Comes with being the daughter of a Dragoness.”

  “Huh,” he said, “we still need to check your genetics, don’t we? What if you have additional crystal elements in your DNA, Alodeé?”

  “What are the chances?”

  Her boyfriend tipped her chin to point her at Emerald. “Is that even a question?”

  They both chuckled as Dymand danced by, grabbing Alodeé’s arm. “Come on, isn’t this just the best day in galactic history? After all, what would Resurrection Dawn be without a real resurrection story?”

  “That’s for sure, Dad!” she cried. “Come on, everyone! Join in!”

  With that, there was a very silly family dance involving five delightful dragonets, one overjoyed father, a totally awesome Dragoness of Emerald, Mister Scrummy-to-the-Maxx and … Alodeé.

  Alodeé the Dragon? That would be freaking amazing!

  THE END

  About the Author

  www.marcsecchia.com

  www.dragonsglory.com

  Marc is the bestselling author of over thirty-five books and is published in five languages. Born in South Africa, he lives and works in Ethiopia with his wife and 4 children, 2 dogs, a rabbit and a variable number of marabou storks that roost on the acacia trees out back. On a good night you can also hear hyenas prowling along the back fence.

  When he’s not writing about Africa or dragons, Marc can be found travelling to remote locations. He thinks there’s nothing better than standing on a mountaintop wondering what lies over the next horizon.

  If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review on Amazon.com. Every review matters and I read them all!

  Where you can find me:

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  Twitter: @marcauthor

  Email: marcsecchia@gmail.com

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