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

by Pease, D. Robert

  “Look out!” I shoved my chair against Adina, knocking her to the side. A blue-green burst of light exploded from the opening. Before the robot righted itself, I grabbed the rock off the ground and smashed the machine three or four times. The assassin-bot buzzed, crackled, and lay still. Adina moved over beside me.

  “What is it?”

  I looked at the smoking hulk of metal and wire. It was the same model that chased me when I went to get the marmosets.

  “Something sent here to kill my family.”

  Dad agreed that Haon must have sent the assassin-bot. He just wasn’t sure if it had been left behind when Haon took off with Mom or sent back to stop us from rescuing her.

  “We’ll have to keep our eyes open tonight,” Dad said. “And the sooner we leave, the sooner these people will be safe.”

  Hamilton stared at him. “That bot could have killed or seriously injured Noah.”

  “I know that.”

  “Is the Foundation’s mission really worth risking our lives this way?”

  Sam and I looked at each other and groaned.

  “Go on, Hamilton,” Dad said.

  “We all agree that there’s a need to repopulate the earth with some kind of life, but doesn’t Haon have a point? Why waste an entire planet, a perfectly viable ecosystem, on animals? Mars is finally getting bearable, but Venus is still just as inhospitable as the day it was colonized.”

  He waved an arm around the cave. “Look at these people. Even with the extreme cold, it’s still far, far better suited for life than Mars or Venus.”

  Sam said, “Mars is getting there—“

  “Getting there, sure. But it’s still hundreds if not thousands of years away from being fully habitable—and again, what about Venus? At least here people won’t die if they leave this cave.”

  “The Poligarchy has their reasons,” Dad said. They’d been down this road dozens of times.

  “So I’ve heard,” Hamilton said. “‘We must atone for our past sins. We must keep Earth from being destroyed again.’”

  It was a mantra we’d had driven in our heads our whole lives by the Poligarchy.

  His voice rose. “It has nothing to do with past sins—they’re afraid of losing power. They’re already struggling with Venus. What would happen if people colonized Earth as well?”

  “We’d be right back in the mess that caused the Cataclysm in the first place!” Dad shouted. “Nations against nations—war, strife, starvation! It’s the single, unified Poligarchy that keeps us together, keeps us from becoming cavemen again!”

  Hamilton was glaring at him. “So we just settle for—”

  “Enough!” Dad said. “We’re not having this discussion here.”

  And it was over. But Adina looked ready to cry.

  “A tale,” an old woman yelled as we were all finishing dinner. Again, just like the night before, everyone picked up the chant.

  Adina managed a weak smile, then looked back at the crowd. The old man I’d noticed the night before stood up.

  “I have a story that will lighten the dark night.” He nodded toward me. “The lad’s tale last night brought to mind an old, old story I heard from my father’s father when I was but a boy.”

  The man spread his arms—his furs flowing behind him like a cape.

  “Back when the world was young and the sun lived nearer Earth, the land was warm and covered with bountiful food. The creator had given dominion of the world to men.”

  A hush fell over the cave.

  “However, men were wicked and did not praise the creator for his goodness.”

  Several people shook their heads. Shadows danced across the cave walls while the man spoke.

  “In his heart, the creator decided he must destroy mankind to cleanse Earth of their wickedness. Yet the thought grieved him. He pleaded with men to put away their evil deeds, but they would not heed him.

  “One day, the creator sat on a mountain, looked over his creation, and wept. His tears flowed down his cheeks like the mightiest river, and Earth flooded. It was then that the creator saw not all was evil. The animals he had made were still beautiful. He did not wish for them to be destroyed, so he gathered his tears and held them behind a great dam. He then searched far and wide for one righteous man to help him.”

  The children of the tribe sat in rapt attention. The story seemed familiar to them, and it was starting to sound even more familiar to me.

  “Long did he toil in his quest. Just when he thought there was not a single righteous man left on all Earth, he found a hunter whose skill was beyond compare. Although the man spent his life hunting, he did so only to feed his family, and he loved the animals and thanked the creator for his blessings each time he slew a beast.

  “The creator told the hunter of his plan to destroy Earth, and the hunter begged him not to do it. Nevertheless, the creator said it would be done. He could not hold back his tears forever. Even then the dam that held the mighty flood at bay was weakening.

  “‘Then allow me to gather up the animals and keep them safe,’ the hunter said. ‘They should not perish due to the evil of men.’

  “The creator smiled because the hunter’s heart was pure. The creator found a huge tree that reached toward the heavens and felled it with one stroke of his hand. Then he gouged out its heart and formed a boat. ‘You and your family will be safe here, along with all the animals.’

  “‘But this will not contain every animal on Earth,’ the hunter said.

  “The creator saw the truth of the man’s words, but the dam was beginning to crumble. ‘Then take just one male and just one female of every kind,’ the creator said. ‘In that way they may at least live on through their descendants.’

  “So the hunter used all his skills and gathered two of every animal on the boat. When the last one was aboard, the creator sealed them in with tree sap, then allowed the dam to burst. His tears covered the whole Earth. So great was his sadness, he sent the sun away so she would not see him grieve. The waters of his tears froze, and the hunter’s boat came to a rest on a sea of ice.”

  The old man looked around, pausing a moment to catch everyone’s eye.

  “We are the descendents of that hunter, and the animals we hunt are the descendents of those saved by the creator. And that is why we must always honor our kills and our creator lest another flood of tears be unleashed upon Earth.”

  The old man sat down. Everyone thumped the ground in appreciation. I looked at Dad—he sat smiling, a bemused look on his face. Of course I’d heard the story of Noah’s Ark before. The whole idea of the ARC project had grown out of Dad’s name and his love of the animals that once roamed Earth. But I’d never have believed someone in 8500 BC would know that story.

  I wanted to tell them what we did, why we were there, but I knew Dad wouldn’t approve. He always said, ‘What if something we say changes events in the future? Just by being here we’re risking making a mess of things back home.’ To which Hamilton usually replied, ‘The leading consensus among astrophysicists is that we cannot mess up future events by our actions in the past. If we have visited the past and changed anything, then it’s already happened, and our present was already affected by it.’ Then he and Dad would get into a heated debate that usually ended with each of them saying that neither stand was definitive, therefore we should be careful when interacting with the past.

  To be safe, I always made sure to steer clear of anyone who looked at all like me. I wouldn’t want to go and do something that might get an ancestor killed so I never got born.

  Still, the idea that these people knew the story of Noah and the flood—and that my family was the modern day equivalent—was something really hard not to talk about. Later that night before we went to sleep, I told Adina I’d heard a similar story when I was a kid.

  “We called it the story of Noah’s Ark.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “But that’s your name, and the name of your father.”

  I thought for a minute. If she fig
ured it out on her own, it wasn’t really telling, was it?

  “Do you have any idea why we’re here? Why we came in our ships from the stars?”

  Adina watched the fire for a minute, then her eyes lit up.

  “To gather animals? Are you collecting animals and taking them on your ship, like the hunter in the story?”

  I grinned, then held up my hands and motioned for her to lower her voice.

  “That’s our family’s job. We travel around and collect a male and a female of every animal, then take them back to our ship—the really big ship I told you about.”

  “How many animals do you have?”

  “You know, that’s a good question. I’m sure Hamilton or Mom would know for sure, but I’ve never heard a count.” I stared at the roof of the cave and thought about all the habitats I had to check before launching the ARC. “It has to be in the hundreds, maybe even thousands.”

  “Oh, I would love to see them.” She gasped. “Wait—why are you collecting the animals now? Is there going to be another flood?”

  “What? No!” Not from her perspective, anyway —it’d be thousands of years before the Cataclysm. I smiled. “I promise you have nothing to worry about.”

  We sat in silence and watched stars beyond count appear in the sky. The warmth of the fire had me sweating again. I wriggled out of my coat and handed it to Adina.

  “I want you to have this.”

  “I couldn’t, Noah. You’ll freeze without it.”

  “We’re leaving first thing in the morning. Then I’ll be back on our ship, safe and warm, while you’re here.” I turned from the firelight to hide my face.

  She was quiet for a moment, but finally she took the coat from me, leaned forward, and kissed my cheek.

  “I’ll never forget your kindness, my hero from the stars.”

  I swallowed a huge lump in my throat.

  “Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other again someday.”

  Tears welled in Adina’s eyes. She jumped to her feet, then dashed off into the shadows of the cave.

  The next morning, Hamilton and Sam went to inspect the Morning Star. When they came back, they said the repair was complete—the expanding gel foam had hardened and they’d got the right aileron working too.

  I searched the cave for Adina but couldn’t find her anywhere.

  “Maybe she’s not big on goodbyes,” Dad said.

  I gazed down the trail toward the Mammoth’s Tusk.

  “Her whole life has been one big goodbye.”

  Dad and I followed the long trail to the Morning Star. It seemed the whole tribe had come to see us off. He put his hand on my shoulder.

  “I know you and the girl have become good friends. Bet it’s hard to leave her.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll miss her.”

  “I’ve been thinking…when this whole mess with Haon is straightened out and we’ve rescued your mother, maybe we should spend time on Mars. Give you a chance to make friends your own age.” He squeezed my shoulder. “What do you think?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Of course your mother has to agree, but I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

  We reached the Morning Star and turned to face the people who’d come with us. Dad raised his hands, palms toward the crowd.

  “We thank you for the hospitality of your cave. May your fires be hot and your stomachs full, all the long days of your life.” He’s always had a flair for the dramatic.

  A cheer rang out from the tribe.

  I looked over the crowd once more for Adina. She was nowhere to be seen. Dad and I turned and entered the ship. The hatch sealed behind us.

  As often as I’d flown with my dad, I never got over what a bad pilot he was. The ride to the ARC was almost unbearable. He seemed to have a knack for finding every pocket of turbulence in the sky.

  By the time we reached orbit I actually felt a bit queasy, and I never get motion sickness. Sam and Hamilton didn’t look like they’d fared much better.

  “I need to lie down.” I unstrapped myself and floated from my seat. It’s hard to believe he’s my dad, the way he flies this thing.

  “Don’t hurl,” Sam yelled. “Be a real mess in zero-g.”

  I glared at my sister and left the cockpit. I got to the cabin, opened the door—and stopped dead.

  “How did you get here?”

  Adina lay strapped in the bunk. Her face looked kind of green and her eyes scared. She said something I didn’t understand, and I scrambled to put my Triple-B back in my ear.

  She repeated herself. “Is it always this bumpy?” Her teeth chattered as the ship bounced.

  “Only when my dad’s the pilot.” I moved into the cabin and closed the door.

  “I thought I’d never see you again.” I pulled myself into a chair and strapped down. “How did you get on board?”

  She tried to smile. “It wasn’t hard when I found the orb in your coat pocket.” The blue ball floated from her hand and she snatched it out of the air.

  I grinned. The ship rumbled.

  “My dad isn’t going to like this.”

  “Well, it was your idea.” She smiled, then her face went white when the ship spun around.

  “My idea? How do you figure?”

  “You gave me your coat and left the blue orb in the pocket. You told me you could take me somewhere warmer. You even asked if I’d miss the people of my tribe.”

  Maybe she was right. I didn’t consciously think about getting her to stowaway, but some part of me might have been hoping she would.

  “Well, whoever’s idea it was, I’m glad you’re here.”

  At last the ship calmed.

  “Adina, you’ve got to take a look at your world.” I unbuckled and pushed toward the far wall. “Computer, open the shield on the cabin widow.” A panel on the wall slid open just as the Morning Star rotated, revealing the planet below. The white expanse of the British Isles filled the screens.

  Adina gasped. “That’s where I lived?”

  “Yup,” I said. “Just wait till we get a bit higher.”

  She sat transfixed by the view while the ship rocketed deeper into space. A few minutes later the blue sky around us turned black. The curvature of the earth appeared below.

  “It’s round?”

  “Earth is round, just like the sun and the moon.”

  She glanced over at me, then back at the screens.

  “That makes perfect sense, now that you say it. Why should our home be any different from the homes of God?”

  I laughed. “Well, I’m not sure I know where God lives, but I do know that every planet we’ve found is round like Earth.” The Morning Star passed through the last remnants of the atmosphere.

  “Look now.”

  Adina sucked in her breath. “It’s so beautiful.” The white and blue ball filled the window.

  Dad’s voice came over the intercom. “Everything all right in there?”

  “Yeah Dad, everything’s great. It was a perfect flight.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, son.” He laughed. “We’ll be on the ARC in ten minutes.”

  “Okay, and Dad?”

  “Yes, Noah?”

  “Umm...” Adina was shaking her head. “Never mind, I’ll talk to you later.”

  I sat in Hangar Bay One as Dad assigned us all tasks that needed to be accomplished before we could rescue Mom.

  “We need to have a ship capable of inner-atmospheric flight before we get to the twelfth century. The patch job on the Morning Star wouldn’t hold up during the burn upon entry.”

  “With the right tools I could have her ready in a few hours,” Sam said. She stood on my left, tapping her foot, and seemed ready to bolt for the fabrication shop the minute Dad finished speaking.

  “Good,” Dad said. “But I’d also like to get the DUV III ready. Hamilton, can you help me with the warp manifold calibration?”

  “Of course,” Hamilton said.

  I eyed the hatch to the Morning St
ar.

  “Noah, why don’t you help your sister?”

  “What? No, I—”

  “Not now. I want to get moving as fast as possible. Hamilton, meet me back here after I get the ARC on course.” Dad looked at the three of us.

  “We’ll find her.”

  With that, everyone dashed off, leaving me in the middle of the hangar bay. I watched Dad leave, then turned toward the Morning Star.

  “What did he say?” Adina sat on the edge of the bunk.

  “I didn’t exactly have a chance to talk with him. Anyway, I think it’s best if I tell him later. For now, follow me.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She stood up but stayed near the bed. “We should tell him now, it’ll be worse later.”

  “Trust me, he’ll be much easier to talk to when he isn’t distracted.” That way he can give me his full attention when he tans my hide.

  Adina followed while I worked my way down to the hatch. I held up my hand and peered into the hangar bay. Hamilton was nowhere to be seen, and Sam was in the workshop across the bay. Her back was to us as she tossed tools into a bin.

  “Come on.” I waved Adina after me and sped out of the ship.

  Minutes later, we entered my room. Obadiah jumped up in my lap, licked my face, then leapt to greet Adina, barking and racing back and forth between the two of us. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him.

  “Calm down, boy.” I laughed as he put his paws on her chest. “You’re going to cover her in dog-slime.”

  Adina grinned while he licked her face.

  “This is Obadiah.”

  “He certainly is friendly. I’ve never seen an animal like this. Is it a fox or a wolf puppy?”

  “He’s a dog—a beagle-hound mix, actually.” I laughed when Obadiah knocked her over. “I think he likes you.”

  Once Obadiah got his fill of face licking, Adina turned and studied my room. A look of wonder filled her face.

  “This is all yours? There’s… there’s so much!”

  “Yeah, isn’t it great?”

  “I can’t believe you need all this.” She bit her lip. “Your life must be much harder than I imagined, if one person needs a room full of…whatever this stuff is… to live.”