One camp wanted to build a huge fleet of interplanetary rockets and intercept all the asteroids – moving those they could, and blowing up those too big to move.
Another camp wanted to build huge vessels and abandon life on Earth for a new life among the stars. They were limited by the speed of light, but traveling close to light speed would make relative time go by relatively slowly. They would live long enough to explore many new planets around different stars. Perhaps they would find a new home.
A third chose a different solution. Just before the new crisis, saurian science had advanced enough to penetrate time itself. They couldn’t go backward in time, but they could go forward. What this group proposed was jumping forward a million years, long after they were sure the asteroids had passed by. They could then recolonize Earth, even reseed it with life if necessary.
Long arguments raged; no agreement was reached. Finally, it was decided to try all three.
The group that wanted to build space arks did just that.
Those who wanted to fight off the asteroid threat with rockets hated those building the space arks. They said the space-ark saurians were using up valuable resources. Those determined to stop the asteroids did build the rockets, but grumbled that they weren’t enough. Tempers flared. War broke out for the first time in centuries.
The third group – the time-travel group – pulled away in secret. They hid in a mountain fortress and made plans and preparations. By harnessing the power of a volcano, they knew they could make their great leap through time.
The battles raged on Earth. The star-questing saurians were only able to build five of their giant interstellar craft when they’d wanted to build 20. This triggered more fighting. But finally, those who could find a place on the star vessels left to find their own destiny.
On Earth, those who proposed destroying the asteroids built as many rockets as they could muster. They took to their task like demons. They diverted and blew up one giant rock after another. Streaks of space rock tore through the sky, more numerous every night.
Years went by. The debris field of space junk dimmed. It seemed the plan to defend the Earth would work.
Then, the final calamity – a giant asteroid was missed until it was too late. It was discovered only a day from impact. The rockets swarmed around it, setting what charges they could. Some pilots drove their craft straight into the asteroid in a last, futile gesture to save their world.
Miraculously, the asteroid was split in two in a final attack. Half continued on into space. But it was not enough. The remaining space rock was not enough to destroy the Earth, but it was still enough to wipe out most life on Earth, and certainly all intelligent life.
And as the giant rocks hurtled down from heaven, the third group, the time travelers, made their desperate gambit. They pushed their fortress far into the future.
“And it succeeded,” Pashera said. “You are here.”
“It succeeded too well,” Tol’zen said grimly.
Perhaps it was the shockwave of the asteroid. Perhaps the energy level of the volcano spiked just as the time machine went into action. The saurians didn’t travel a million years into the future. They traveled 64 million years into the future.
“Oops!” Pashera said.
Tol’zen didn’t show anger at her outburst. He just shrugged. “Truth be told,” he said, “time travel was never an exact science. Whole sections of the Time Fortress disappeared in the Great Leap Forward.”
Those who made the Leap found every trace of the former saurian civilization was wiped out.
The time travelers discovered that whole new forms of life had developed. Earth was not a place for saurians anymore.
Their time was over. Hence, they no longer called themselves whatever their name had been – a name since lost. Instead, they were now the Remnant.
But the Remnant set out to make a life for themselves. They plowed their fields. They planted crops. They built a new city on the slopes of the now-dead volcano that had once powered their time machine.
Because they no longer had nearby volcanic power, the saurians at first used other power sources: sun, wood, water, wind and more. But the saurians brought their science with them in their fortress. And to jumpstart their new civilization, their scientists created their greatest power source: A total matter converter. Installed in the heart of the fortress, it produced more power than any city could use.
Time passed. The Remnant prospered. And a new prophecy arose. This one said that in 10 Grand Cycles, or 10,000 years, the star-folk would return to find their Earth-bound kin.
The prophecy gave rise to a third religion which rose to join science and earth, indeed surpassed them. The new religion was the cult of reunion between Remnant and Star-Folk. And this religion surpassed the other two. Science – and care for the Earth and its creatures – got less resources and interest.
And throughout the next cycle, the cult of reunion became fanaticism.
“A Grand Cycle is one of the standards of our civilization,” Tol’zen explained. “At the end of a Grand Cycle, our race takes stock of all we have done in the last thousand years. What is good, we keep. What is bad, we reject. And we rebuild based on those good principles.”
By tradition, rebuilding takes place in a literal sense. The capital city moved.
“How do you move a building?” Pashera asked.
“They moved themselves,” Tol’zen said. “For our technology was supreme then. Now, don’t interrupt.”
The city rebuilt. The plot of territory right next door would do. While important buildings could move themselves, others were knocked down and their materials recompiled into new structures.
One Grand Cycle went by. Then another. Then another. The old city of Guadalquivir was knocked down and rebuilt, slowing moving its position around the mountain.
“Wait, wait,” Pashera interrupted again. “The city moves?” She struggled to get her brain around this concept.
“It used to, every thousand years,” Tol’zen said. “The larger buildings can move themselves, or could. Many smaller ones are made to be broken down and moved.
“But all that stopped in the last Grand Cycle. I’ll tell you about that another time.”
As the city moved around the mountain, old traditions were forgotten – new ones taken on. But one thing stayed – the rock-solid belief that at the start of the 10th Grand Cycle since the time travelers had jumped across millennia, the Star-Folk would come.
And shortly the start of the 10th Grand Cycle, the priests of the Reunion religion were pretty desperate.
“Then they announced another revelation,” Tol’zen said, then he laughed bitterly. “That the Reunion would come only AFTER 10 Grand Cycles were complete.”
Fanaticism intensified. Any who openly doubted the new prophecy were burned alive. Citizens of Guadalquivir were called upon to strive harder to prove themselves worthy for the Star-Folk.
Still, the Remnant waited. And waited. The 11th Grand Cycle came around, and Guadalquivir moved again.
Still, the prophecy was not fulfilled. And then finally, one day early in the 11th Grand Cycle, the citizens of Guadalquivir rose up as a mob, marched up the holy mountain, and found every priest of the Reunion, and tore them apart, limb from limb.
And then the Remnant ripped their feathers out of their heads, and clawed at their skin, and then they wept for being so wrong for so long.
“What happened then?” Pashera asked.
“Well, life goes on,” Tol’zen said. “Free of the Star-Folk cult, we still had a thriving civilization – thousands of years of it. Our cities stretched from Guadalquivir to the Great Salt Lake. We watched over the Earth. Our scholars pushed the limits of science.”
“But something happened,” Pashera said.
Tol’zen nodded. “The Great Salt Lake,” he said, “is what your people now know as the Inland Sea. Our cities along the coast and on the islands all drowned in what is known as the Kaledonia Calamity.” He
sighed. “But that disaster is a story for another day.”
“Now, we are in the 12th Grand Cycle. At the start of the cycle, our city didn’t move again. Some spark went out of the Remnant after the Kaledonia Calamity. Our civilization was exhausted by that crisis.
“Some say,” Tol’zen said. “That the lifecycle of Guadalquivir is complete. Finished.
“Importantly, part of the soul of my people died when the Reunion religion was proven to be a lie. And that hope of reunion is a yearning … a hunger … that we’ve never been able to give up.
“Not even now.”
Tol’zen lay back quietly. He seemed melancholy. And Pashera was sure he’d talked himself out.
Well, back to her plan. After all, it was so much fun.
“I know how to cheer you up,” she said.
She reached out and took his thick black faroos in hand. She stroked it, and it swelled to life. She licked her lips greedily.
“So you do,” Tol’zen said, and reached for her.
After another round of enthusiastic sex, and yet another bath, Pashera was exhausted. Tol’zen made her put on a skirt and brought her into the kitchen. He fed her some food, then brought her back to his room. He put some cushions on the floor and told her to sleep there.
She was going to argue that she should sleep on the bed, but she passed out as soon as she’d taken her skirt off and her face hit the pillow. Tol’zen covered her with a blanket, patted her on the head, and went about his business.
She woke up to the sound of talking in the food-prep area. There was also the sound of plates clattering, and the smell of cooked food.
Pashera tip-toed quietly out of the room and down the hallway. Her groin ached from her earlier exertions.
Light shone around the corner. She peered around to see Tol’zen sitting at the table with another saurian. A third busied herself - yes, it was a female, Pashera could tell by the elaborate head feathers – making food.
“… plans are coming together,” Tol’zen said. “And my expedition against the sky pirates will give you a chance to search the Sumsentia thoroughly. We know the answers must be there.”
“Asking for dedicated Sumsentia time was a stroke of genius, brother,” said the other saurian. Now that Pashera peeked at him, he did share a resemblance to Tol’zen. In fact, it was the same saurian who had met Tol’zen at the city gate.
“I can’t believe Kro’tos gave it to you for an entire moon-span,” the other saurian chortled. “What a mistake.”
“He was so mad, he couldn’t think straight,” Tol’zen said. “And he wanted to appear generous in front of the mob.”
The female saurian scooped food onto two plates, brought it over to the table, and put it in front of the males. “Eat,” she said. “Scheming takes a lot of energy.” Her head twitched as her eye lingered on a shadow by the corner.
Pashera ducked back and made herself small. She’d almost been seen!
The men laughed. “You should eat too, Sai’tan,” Tol’zen said. “You’re part of our family, too.”
“Huh. Don’t say that too loudly, in case Kro’tos, the old monster, takes both your heads,” the female said. “He’ll want mine next.”
“You keep all our secrets, Sai’tan,” the other saurian male said, “including that we are brothers. You shall be rewarded.”
“That old monster’s head on a platter, that’s reward enough for me,” the female said. “Well, if you gents have enough to fill your tummies, I’m off to bed. I’ll clean up in the morning.”
Footsteps came closer to the hallways. Pashera scampered back down to the room she shared with Tol’zen. She threw herself onto the cushions and covered herself up with her blanket.
She felt, more than heard, someone at the door. Then the female said in a low voice: “A human, huh. This one will be trouble, mark my word.”
Then the footsteps receded into the darkness.
Pashera was still awake when Tol’zen returned to the room, but she pretended to be asleep. She didn’t know how she could possibly sleep after such a day.
The next thing she knew, light streamed into the room through the skylight. Tol’zen knelt beside her, shaking her gently.
“Time to wake up, sleepyhead,” he said “You better come eat, it’s going to be a big day.
“Today,” he said with a grin, “today we prepare for war!”
Chapter 7. The Hall of the Night King
The war council met in a fortress near the Dragon Gate, the gate through which Tol’zen and Pashera had first entered the country of the Remnant. Kro’brin was there, resplendent in a new uniform. Other warriors had seats around the table, including Commander Dal’ger, the leader of the guards at the Dragon Gate. His guards would form the main body of the attack force. Other military commanders sat the great table. Thal’tos led the scientific contingent, barely able to conceal his fury. The saurian Tol’zen called “brother” was also at the table, as were other scientists.
Pashera now wore a collar around her neck. It was loose-fitting, almost like a necklace, and fashioned from silver. It was adorned with two circular devices, one on either side, showing a purple dragon against a yellow sun; Tol’zen’s colors. When he’d fitted her with the collar this morning, he’d told her that it was for her protection – an uncollared human could be claimed by anybody. But she still chafed against the soft leather on her neck.
Other humans stood around the table, behind the individual saurians they served. But most were men, and none of them were the women Pashera had met last night.
Many of the humans had dumb, glazed looks in their eyes. Others preened and fussed over their saurian masters. Pashera knew she would find no allies among the humans here.
Tol’zen stood in front of board on which he listed the enemies’ forces. Dal’ger had a battle map unrolled in front of him, and Tol’zen referred to this often.
The sky pirates had control of an old fortress near the river city of Tartessos. They had 300 of the giant hellecker birds, and twice as many riders. They also had at least another 300 human renegades and rogues, now acting as an auxiliary. The river cut near the fortress then fell over a cliff; the waterfall and cliff made any foot attack impossible on that side. Attacking over the river had its own problems. So that left only one way to access by land. The military commanders, each in turn, laid out the obstacles to victory.
“What of the new wonder weapon?” Commander Dal’ger said.
Tol’zen led them outside, where some of the younger scientists had set up a dozen targets and laid a row of the wonder weapons laid out on a bench.
“What’s this weapon called, anyway?” Dal’ger said.
“It’s a molecular disruptor,” Thal’tos said. “The colloquial term is a ‘disintegrator’. “
“Relic Arkhein technology,” Dal’ger said. He unsheathed a weapon from his hip. It was hand-sized, faroos-shaped with a handle where the testicles should be. It was made of some metal, but the colors flowed together, shimmering across the spectrum as it caught the sunlight. It was beautiful.
“This is also a disintegrator,” Dal’ger said. “So I’m told. I’ve never seen it work, and no one has for more than a thousand years.”
“We rediscovered that old technology,” Tha’tos said. “Or rather, we’re in the process of rediscovering it. It’s not quite ready, as you’ll see.”
He indicated for Commander Dal’ger to take one of the disruptors. Thal’tos explained how it worked, then stepped back as Dal’ger took aim at the first target and fired.
The target, a statue so worn by time that its features had softened with age, crumbled into dust. The statue behind it did the same.
“It SEEMS to work well,” Dal’ger said to Thal’tos. “How many of these weapons do we have?”
“We have built 70 of them so far. Shoot the next one,” Thal’tos told him.
More statues cascaded into dust across the plaza, tumbling into individual molecules.
“This is
a fine weapon,” Dal’ger said. “It’s downright terrifying.”
“Shoot again,” Thal’tos urged him.
Dal’ger aimed and fired. On the third attempt, one of the remaining statues blistered, and half of it – the front half – boiled away. Dal’ger looked at the gun, then took aim again. More of the statue vaporized, but not all of it. A skinny spire of stone still stood. Then it fell over with a clatter.
Dal’ger considered what the weapon had done. He looked at Thal’tos, looked at the weapon, and then looked at Thal’tos again. “It’s a power problem,” he said finally.
“Exactly,” Thal’tos said. “The molecular disruptor is ancient Arkhein technology that we’ve retro-engineered. But we haven’t been able to duplicate the power system of that diabolically brilliant race. Each molecular disruptor, as it is now, will give you a maximum of three lethal shots.”
“How is the range?” Kro’brin said, speaking for the first time. “Can we dissolve the sky pirates’ fortress from a safe distance?”
“No,” Thal’tos said bleakly. “The range is very short. And rightly so. Otherwise the weapons would simply be too dangerous to use.”
“Surely you could build a long-range version,” Kro’brin snorted.
Thal’tos laughed mirthlessly. “Surely. But building a suitable power source could take a while. And portable? No.”
“Not to worry,” Tol’zen interjected. “I just wanted you all to see the challenges before us.
“Now,” he added, “come back inside and I’ll show you how we’re going to get it done.”
Pashera lagged behind so she could look at the destroyed statue. The stone that remained looked like it had boiled away on the surface. This kind of magic was beyond her comprehension. One of the younger saurian officers saw her looking over the ruined statue and smiled. “Amazing, isn’t it?” he said.
“I find it terrifying.”
“Honestly, I think we all do,” he said, smiling. “We just hope the enemy finds it more frightening.”
“In truth, all the weapons your race has are amazing,” Pashera said. “How many different types are there?”
Slave in the City of Dragons (Dinosaurs and Gladiators Book 1) Page 13
