Gulliver's Fugitives - Keith Sharee [3]
Troi felt some of her strength come back. She wasn’t alone here after all. Whatever this being was, it could only improve matters.
“What is this place? Who are you?” she asked evenly.
“You know all that already, if you’re here.”
“But I don’t. I can’t remember.”
“Before I’ll tell you who I am, you’ll have to at least remember your purpose in coming here.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m old, I’ve seen a great deal, and I know what’s best.”
“Can you tell me how I can get back to my ship?”
“No. That I can never do. I might help you accomplish whatever it is you came here for, if you can remember what that was, but how you come and go is your own affair.”
Troi concentrated on the voice. She suspected that it belonged to a female. It was an unyielding voice, but not unkind—the voice of a matriarch.
Troi felt something wet on her knees. Liquid had started to well up through the sand in the arroyo. It looked like water. She hoped it was water and not something poisonous like trichloroethylene, because her body was going to make her drink it no matter what it was.
She leaned over and tasted it. Water. She drank greedily.
“Slowly, slowly,” said the voice.
Troi sipped the water until she felt sated.
“Oh,” she breathed afterward, “that was lovely. Thank you.”
“I’m going to help you get to the mountains,” said the voice. “I’ll give you the water you’ll need. If you make it to the mountains I’ll give you shade there.”
“I guess that means you aren’t going to tell me anything else.”
“Not now. And you’re welcome, for the water.”
Troi nodded to herself. She guessed she’d just have to play by the rules of this strange world, at least until an alternative plan came along.
The Matriarch did live up to her promise. She provided Troi with water, making it well up from the dry sand, but only at those times when Troi was too thirsty to go on, and then she provided it silently, without comment.
When the mountains were closer, Troi became aware of another presence besides the Matriarch. It was the unmistakable vigilance of a predatory animal. She could sometimes hear the predator’s feet crumbling the sand-crusts behind her, and catch fleeting impressions of it in her peripheral vision. Troi finally saw it when she stopped near a small mesa to request water from the Matriarch.
At first she looked right at the predator without being aware of it, because though it was only a few meters away and very large, it blended in with the stone and stood absolutely still. Then she saw through the camouflage. She felt her whole body stiffen in fright.
The creature moved. It opened its mouth and let out a long coarse howl.
It was perhaps ten feet tall. There was a carcass of some kind at its feet, and other carcasses, bones, and its own droppings nearby.
It had the head of a lioness and a body shaped like a baboon’s. From its mind Troi received an impression of predatory blood lust so powerful she was transfixed, like a rabbit before a snake. But within the impression was a clear, cogent message. I am a First Cause, it said to her. I determine the life and death of all in this desert. Your will means nothing here.
It seemed to be true, as Troi couldn’t even move her feet.
But something in her rebelled, broke the inertia, and she found herself running. The sand seemed to suck at her feet as she heard the cat-exhalations of the Lioness close behind her. She tried to dodge to the side, but the Lioness’ paw swatted at her legs and she tripped, landing on her back on the sand. Troi could smell the beast’s carrion-stink breath on her face as its head leaned close and eclipsed the sun, and its awesome dripping jaws opened. In the last instant, she managed to roll away, and was back up and running again. She realized the Lioness was merely playing with her. A feline with its prey.
But as Troi ran she sensed the Lioness dropping far behind. When exhaustion made her stop running, she looked