Noah Zarc: Mammoth Trouble (Noah Zarc, #1)

by Pease, D. Robert

“Once we know when we want to go to and where a specific point in space will be, such as the earth at any given time, we can jump from Earth to Earth to Earth all the way back, as far as we want.” He pulled the thread tight and brought all the dots together.

  “Make sense?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” I said. “Earth’s a big booger in the handkerchief of time.”

  “I give up!” He’d stormed out of the room.

  I looked over at my brother, who sat poring over his monitor. Maybe I’ll have to quit giving him such a hard time. I laughed out loud, saw the way he and Sam looked up at me, and reconsidered.

  Purple and green pulses enveloped the ARC, and we jumped again. Once more Earth appeared below us. At first I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was different but I knew the planet would keep changing the further back in time we went. It would become wilder, less developed—and that’s what was different. Earth this time was greener.

  We jumped like this for over two hours, until our final jump. For several minutes after it, the ship fired reverse thrusters and slowed, while Hamilton pored over some charts on his screen.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  “Earth isn’t where it’s supposed to be.”

  “What?” Sam unbuckled and moved to the window. “Where is it?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Hamilton snapped the image to the main screen. Several planets appeared as well as a flashing light he pointed at labeled ARC.

  “We’re here.” He pointed at another image. “And Earth is here.”

  Sam studied the screen. “I can see that.”

  It didn’t really look all that far to me.

  “Computer, please calculate distance to Earth,” he said.

  “Two point eight three million kilometers.”

  “Not as bad as I thought.” Hamilton scratched his chin. “But it still doesn’t make any sense. We should have entered this spacetime just outside the orbit of the moon.” He ran through more screens, checking and rechecking his numbers.

  “Well, there’s not much we can do about it now,” Sam said. “Let’s get moving. Noah?”

  “I’m on it.” I brought my monitor back and punched up the coordinates for Earth.

  “Computer, take us in.”

  It took a little over three more hours to get to Earth, but somehow it felt much longer. We passed the moon and zeroed in on the blue planet. Finally the ship’s computer began preparing to enter Earth’s orbit. I exhaled loudly. We’d made it.

  “Engage the light-deflecting shields,” Sam said. “No sense panicking the locals by letting sun reflect off our hull.” She tilted her head toward me and smiled. “Check on the pods again, then meet me in Hangar Bay One. I want to get down there as soon as we can. Hopefully Mom and Dad have kept themselves warm.”

  Twisting and spiraling, I flew down a tube through the center of the whale habitat. Good thing I loved zero-g.

  I didn’t need to check on all the animals—just the biggest, the ones who seemed to struggle most with disorienting changes in gravity. The whales sometimes had trouble knowing which way was up so they could surface for air.

  I slowed and looked down through a window at the miniature sea. Small swells rolled back and forth on the surface as the artificial ocean spun around me. Within moments, the spray from all three whales spouted up toward my perch hundreds of meters above them. They didn’t seem to be having any trouble at all. I’d have loved to stay and watch, but I still had a few more animals to check on, and we had to get moving.

  I checked the elephants last. A great expanse of African savannah spread out before me. It took a few minutes to spy the two gentle gray giants, both of whom acted as if nothing had changed. I was always amazed at how graceful the elephants were, how such a huge animal could walk without making a sound. I smiled while Fathiya laid her trunk across Elimu’s back. The pair seemed content with their new life aboard the ARC.

  It occurred to me—not for the first time—how huge a thing we were doing. For the past several hundred years, no one had been able to watch elephants play or hear whales sing, hear a lion roar or see a horse gallop. We had to get Mom and Dad home so we could all carry out our mission: filling Earth with creatures once more.

  I watched the elephants a few minutes longer, then headed to the hanger.

  When I got there, Sam and Hamilton stood outside the hatch of a small ship called the Morning Star. She was the most beautiful ship we had—gleaming silver and built for speed. The wings curved forward, like a hawk about to unfurl its pinions after a dive. We had bigger ships—maybe even faster ships—but the Morning Star was special to me. She was the first ship I’d ever flown.

  “Someone has to stay here,” Sam said. “What if something goes wrong?” She turned toward me. “Would you stay on board while Ham and I get Mom and Dad?”

  “Why don’t we just radio down?” I said. “Surely we can get through from orbit.”

  Hamilton shook his head. “Moses has been trying ever since we entered this time-stream. There’s been no response. We have no option but to go down to the surface.”

  “I think you should stay,” Sam said.

  “No way,” I said. “Neither one of you knows how to fly the Morning Star.”

  Sam scowled at me.

  “At least, not as good as I do.”

  “Precisely my point.” Hamilton glanced at our sister. “Autopilot could take us down, but what if something goes wrong? Noah has flown hundreds of hours more than we have combined, and frankly, you’re the best acquainted with how to handle a somewhat unrefined populace.”

  “Are you saying I’m the only one who speaks caveman?” Sam sighed. “I just don’t feel right about all of us going down. If something happened, there’d be no one to rescue Mom, Dad, or any of us.”

  “The greatest danger will be leaving the ship to search for Mom and Dad,” Hamilton said. “Noah can take us down, and once there he can stay on board the Morning Star. If something happens to us, he can return immediately to the ARC.”

  “Now, wait a minute—”.

  “No,” Sam said. “Either you promise to stay on the Morning Star or you don’t go down at all.”

  I knew she wasn’t going to change her mind on this.

  “I promise.”

  She smiled. “Besides, if we get eaten by a cave bear, you can be the hero who saves the universe all by yourself.”

  The ship’s computer chimed. “Entering Earth orbit, 8512 BC.”

  I pushed my chair past Hamilton and Sam and boarded the Morning Star.

  Despite all the trouble I manage to get in, I really am a great pilot. Mom said I should’ve been born a bird.

  But I admit, my stomach was in knots as I sat in the pilot’s seat ready to go. I told myself it wasn’t nerves, just anticipation—and awareness that this flight couldn’t be more important.

  “Nothing fancy,” Sam said. “We need to get in and out as quickly as possible.”

  “Actually—”

  “Ham! As quickly as possible.” Sam’s gaze drilled holes into Hamilton, who snapped his mouth shut.

  I could sync my neuro-implant with the Morning Star’s control and navigational systems. And because I spent my whole life controlling my magchair with my thoughts, I was better equipped than most at piloting a ship. You could fly manually, sure, and there was something satisfying about gripping the yoke with my hands, but I couldn’t imagine flying without my implant.

  Sam swallowed. “Computer, open the bay doors.”

  Two large steel doors opened at the end of the hangar. Stars glittered against the black canvas of space, but they were somewhat obscured by a shimmering energy shield that protected the hangar from depressurization. I released the holding pins on the Morning Star. With soft touches to the maglifters, I rose off the bay floor and pushed the craft forward. Once we were in the air, the artificial gravity dissipated, and we were again floating in zero-g. Matching the spin of the doors as I nudged the ship
through the bay doors was the hardest part, and it took all my concentration. I lined up precisely and gave it more thrust. The nose of the Morning Star pierced the energy shield. Seconds later, we were through.

  I looked at the glow of the earth below and gasped. “There’s so much white!”

  “Well, it is the Ice Age,” Sam said.

  “Technically, it’s the end of the last glacial period.” We glared at Hamilton, but he never seemed to get how annoying he could be. “If we’d gone back another thousand years, nearly half of the northern hemisphere would be covered with ice.”

  North America passed several kilometers below us. Ice covered a good part of what would one day be considered Canada, but below that was a landscape filled with millions of lakes and lush green terrain.

  I gave the Morning Star a little more power and moved away from the ARC. When we were clear, I fired up reverse thrusters to slow the ship. Within minutes, we dropped into the atmosphere.

  The edges of the ship’s wings glowed.

  Sun glared off the ice and snow blanketing the top third of the planet. Red and yellow flames flickered past the windows. This is where my years of practice paid off. I knew a degree or two off in either direction would be catastrophic. The friction of entry would burn a hole through the hull in a matter of seconds. Of course the shipboard computer wouldn’t let that happen, but you never know when computers can go haywire.

  The Morning Star vibrated. Bright flames flickered past the windows. The temperature in the cockpit rose noticeably. I glanced at Sam, who looked a little worried. Hamilton on the other hand seemed oblivious as he concentrated on his monitor, plotting the course to Mom and Dad. Moses gave us exact coordinates, but Hamilton double- and triple-checked everything.

  Moments later, the flames around the ship abated, then vanished. The Morning Star glided through a blue sky with only small pockets of clouds obscuring Earth below.

  The ARC should have arrived in this time-period almost the exact moment Moses rocketed after Haon. Still, it would probably take us an hour or two to get down to the surface. Sure, Mom and Dad could handle themselves, but the sooner we got there the better.

  As we began our final descent I thought I could make out Europe. Sam shivered and rubbed her arms.

  “It’s going to be really cold down there. Why couldn’t Mom and Dad pick a warmer era to get stranded?”

  Hamilton flicked a switch, and a grid popped up over the image on the monitors of the European continent below. A flashing light indicated the spot where Moses left our parents.

  “There it is,” Sam said. “Take her down as fast as you can—safely.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, I think I’ll take us down dangerously.”

  She just rolled her eyes.

  I nudged the yoke forward. The nose of the Morning Star dipped nearly straight down. For a moment we were weightless again, plummeting toward Earth.

  A blanket of clouds obscured the continent, and we hit a bit of turbulence.

  “Hang on!” I shouted.

  I banked left and headed for a clear patch of sky. Sonic booms enveloped the ship when it smashed through the air, shaking the three of us as we sped through the clouds. We burst back into sunlight and saw northern Britain approaching fast. I leveled off and slowed, preparing the Morning Star for landing.

  “Keep your eyes out for a good place to touch down.”

  Hamilton flicked a schematic over the windshield. “Moses specified the clearing where Dad landed the DUV II.” A bright arrow appeared on the screen, pointing straight ahead.

  Soon we were skimming over the ancient British countryside. The arrow pulsed on the display.

  “There!” Sam said.

  I saw a flash of sun on metal. I pulled the air brakes wide and banked left. There, in a clearing below, were the remains of a campfire with a shiny metal pot hanging over it. I turned the ship and drifted down. With a slight bump, we hit the ground.

  “A perfect landing,” I said.

  “I don’t see them anywhere.” Sam’s face was at the window.

  Hamilton frowned at the monitor in front of him. “They’re not within range of our scanners, so I doubt you would.” He pushed the monitor away, stood up, then grabbed the monitor and yanked it back.

  “I see something—two life-forms approximately three kilometers due east.”

  Sam headed for the door. “It’s got to be Mom and Dad. Let’s go.” She glanced back at me. “Remember, Noah, stay in the ship. Any sign of trouble and you get this thing in the air, got it?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Minutes later I watched on the external monitors as they headed off into the woods, dressed from head to toe in every stitch of clothing they could find.

  “Hamilton, can you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Noah. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

  “Just keep me posted. If you come back telling stories of fighting off lions with your bare hands and I missed it all, I’ll be very unhappy.”

  “I told you, “ Sam said. “There aren’t any lions in this part of the world.”

  For the next forty minutes I watched the holoscreens. A couple of red blips marked Sam and Hamilton’s steady progress towards the two blue blips that had to be Mom and Dad. The blue dots moved in a line, sometimes seeming to run, sometimes stopping for several minutes. Sam and Hamilton were nearly on them.

  “Do you see them?” I said.

  “Not yet,” Sam said.

  I moved my chair back and forth, back and forth, my eyes fixed on the screen. The dots seemed to crawl.

  “We see Dad,” Hamilton said just when I thought I’d go crazy from waiting. “It looks like he’s following an animal of some kind.”

  “Dad!” Sam’s voice yelled over Hamilton’s comm link.

  Just then, I heard a loud thud outside the ship. I tore my gaze from the red and blue blips and looked to the window. Another thud as something smashed against the pane.

  “We’ve got him, Noah!” Sam said. “We found Dad.”

  I flipped the screen to exterior monitors.

  “You’d better get back here,” I said. “We’ve got company.”

  I nearly laughed at what I saw outside the ship. It was like one of those so-bad-it’s-good movies from the middle of the twentieth century, the kind Dad loved. A half-dozen men with long shaggy hair and beards, dressed in heavy animal furs, were throwing everything they could find at the ship. A couple of boys were doing their best to follow the men’s lead.

  “I’m being attacked by a bunch of cavemen.”

  “What?” Sam sounded out of breath. “What do you mean, attacked?”

  “Attacked as in they’re throwing rocks at the ship.”

  “Noah?”

  “Dad!”

  “Are they doing any damage, son?”

  I studied the scene from each external camera.

  “Hard to tell, Dad.” Man, I loved saying that. “I can’t see outside the ship so good, but I don’t think so.”

  “Fine, just sit tight for a minute.” I heard him whisper for a few seconds. “Noah, I think the best thing to do is just stay there. If it looks like they’re starting to do any damage, fire up the engines. That should scare them off.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the sound of Dad’s voice. “Can I talk to Mom?”

  He was silent for a moment. “Didn’t Moses tell you?”

  “Tell us what?”

  I could hear Sam and Hamilton asking the same question.

  “Haon has your mom. He took off with her in the DUV II.”

  Dad said something about explaining once they got back to the ship, but I barely took it in. Mom was fine in the video we saw. At least she sounded fine. How could Haon have kidnapped her?

  I tried to distract myself by watching the men outside. They’d realized they weren’t doing any damage and were standing around the ship, either staring at it in disbelief or arguing.

&nb
sp; I turned on the external microphones. Just as I reached for the translator, Sam’s voice came over the comm.

  “Noah, get the Morning Star in the air! Something big is headed your way.”

  I launched myself to the pilot’s seat and grabbed the yoke.

  “You heard her, let’s get going.” The shipboard computer ignited the lifters. A cloud of snow and steam billowed from under the Morning Star.

  Outside, the cavemen backed away. Then, just as I was about to ease the ship off the ground, I heard thudding over the roar of the engines. The men outside heard it too—they ran back toward the ship and huddled together. I hovered a meter or two off the ground. Before I could give the ship more thrust, I heard a thump and the Morning Star tilted.

  Turning to the external monitors, I saw a boy splayed across the ship’s left wing. His eyes were wide with panic.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled.

  Quickly, I eased off the thrust and settled back toward the ground, but before I touched down, the source of the thudding became all too clear. A giant, brown, fury animal burst through the trees beside the ship and headed straight for the Morning Star—and the caveboy clinging to the wing.

  “Get out of here!” I yelled. But he was frozen with fear, and couldn’t hear me anyway.

  A flash of tusks made up my mind for me. I twisted the yoke clockwise. The Morning Star swiveled right, taking the boy with it. A crash rocked the ship when what could only be described as a huge, hairy elephant smashed into the rear of the ship. I jerked the joystick sideways, and the wing dipped to the ground.

  The boy slid off.

  I tried to level off, but the Morning Star wouldn’t respond. The external monitors at the rear of the ship showed the elephant was still there, thrashing about. Each jerk of its head sent shudders down my spine. One of the elephant’s tusks had pierced the skin of the ship—it was stuck.

  I had no choice. That thing would shake the Morning Star apart, and if it did we’d be stranded.

  “Fire rear thrusters at five percent.”

  Gouts of flame erupted from the back of the ship and engulfed the elephant. In two seconds its fur ignited in a ball of yellow fire. The Morning Star lurched forward, and the panic-stricken creature pulled free.