Psaurian:a novel of semi-intelligent design - first three chapters by Donald Carr

Psaurian: a novel of semi-intelligent design

By Donald Carr

Published by Black Rhino Books www.blackrhinobooks.com www.psaurian.comCopyright © 2009 by Donald Peterson CarrCover Art © by Andrew BrynjulsonISBN: 978-0-615-27158-3Psaurian: a novel of semi-intelligent designEbook version 1.3 PDFEdited by Patrick Lobrutto All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informationstorage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’simagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, orevents is entirely coincidental.

- Prologue -

He had slept for nine years, deep in a cavern below Lake Tele, while his brother enjoyed theoutside world. He did not know of the Congo or Africa, he only knew this swampy jungle was hishome. His brother’s VOICE had wrested him from slumber, though, and he obeyed his brother’s VOICE. He was not like his brother. It was difficult for him to receive and transmit themessages. After several attempts, however, he received his instructions. His first task was quitepleasant. He was to float in the center of Lake Tele and bask in the hot sun for the span of sixdays. Before, the VOICE strictly forbade such a public display. His brother’s VOICE assured him,however, that exposing himself this one time served a distinct purpose.For six days he lounged in the tepid brown water of Tele. He chased tiger fish. As instructed,he ate his fill of turtles, gnilla, and the sacred liana. His brother wanted him strong for thecoming task. Once, on the third day, he noticed men on shore observing his actions. He huggedthe bottom of the lake for several hours. When he surfaced, the men were gone. Then as themoon lay directly overhead on the night of the sixth day, he left Tele for his destination. It took him a half a day to traverse the thirty miles to the mouth of the Likoula, a large isthmus created by the divergence of two great rivers. During the journey his brother’s VOICE was close, nearly in his ear. Now, resting before him in the Likoula’s confluence was the boat he was looking for.He could see the men on its deck. His brother’s VOICE had specific instructions about what wasto happen next.Stacey Krenshaw stood on the deck of their Bertram Sportfisher and peered into the night. A lantern mounted to the foremast cast a glow that was able to battle twenty or so yards into thedarkness. He should be using the night vision goggles on his forehead, but his fifty-four year oldeyes had trouble adjusting to them. Thimble-sized drops of rain popped off his water proof slicker. Under his breath, Krenshaw cursed the weather and Africa. He shifted the weight of theassault rifle to avoid hand cramps.He was surprised the boat still floated. It looked like it was on its third life after tours of duty as garbage scow, flagship of the Congolese Navy, and ferry over the river Styx. It was forty-six feet in length, with three berths, a head, and galley below decks. The Bertram sported a tunatower and a haul deck, so even though it looked like a liver-spotted hand and had thenavigational capability of a Cuban refugee’s raft, the expedition took it.“Do you see anything?” Julius Tabor asked from behind. Tabor took a final drag from acigarette and dropped it with a hiss to the deck. His Goliath sniper rifle was slung across his back.“Nothing. Fucking zilch,” Krenshaw said. “You’re sure they said it was headed our way? Who called it in…the grad student with intense hatred for deodorant?”Tabor shrugged. Krenshaw looked down at the inert form of Doctor Jack Asop. The doctor was sprawled on the deck. His shirt was soaked red. He still clutched a half empty cup of ketamine-spiked Kool Aide. Krenshaw turned to Tabor. His partner was full head shorter.