by Thomas Stone
The supplies would last a few days but he knew he’d have a hard time convincing any of the men to stay in the desert any longer. Without resources, they were headed back to Boomtown in the morning.
A noise on the wind turned Luther’s attention to a nearby building. It was falling down but had considerable size to start with; half of the two-story structure remained aloft while the other half lay in sandy heaps of broken boards that had been hauled there from the forests surrounding Jennings Bank. Luther began to walk towards it at an angle that would not expose him to surprise. In the falling darkness, he began to see a faint glow arising from the rear. With more curiosity than caution, he stepped around the side of the building.
Before him, hidden by the building, was a medium-sized orbital lander, large enough to move heavy equipment. Soldiers and technicians gathered around the craft, working under muted lights, setting up an assortment of devices.
Luther froze but it was too late. A beam of white light shot out and bathed him in a spotlight. An amplified voice asked for identification.
Luther held up a hand to shade his eyes. “I’m Luther Cross. Who are you?”
Ignoring the question, the voice said, “Come forward. We’re here to help.”
At that precise moment, two of Luther’s men stepped around the corner and, bringing their weapons to bear, stopped in the lights.
Luther held up a hand to his men, gesturing for them to point their weapons down. A tall man dressed in a combat suit but carrying no visible weapon walked to Luther. “I am Major Denforth. I’m here with a combat research team in pursuit of criminals. We also wanted to make contact with any remaining colonists.”
“You with Braithwaite?”
“Braithwaite is part of a consortium now, but to answer your question, yes, we’re with Braithwaite.”
“Well, you found some of the colonists and I can help you find the bad guys you’re looking for. I know where they are.”
Cross stared at Denforth while the Major sized him up. “All right, Mr. Cross, I’ll accept your offer. Any others with you are not invited along, however. They’ll only be in the way. If this operation turns ugly, I won’t be responsible for the lives of civilians.”
Luther shrugged. “They’ve about had their fill of the desert anyway.”
“Very good,” said Denforth. The Major turned and called to one of his men. “Ramey?”
A young trooper came forward. “Sir?”
“Fetch my geo-locator. And get some coffee for Mr. Cross and myself as well.”
“Aye.”
Ramey spun about and headed for the transport, hoping there was still coffee in the small galley. The geo-locator was a mapping device stored in Denforth’s command vehicle which had just been unloaded. Ramey would have to rummage through the gear in the rear to find it.
As Ramey stepped up the shuttle ramp, he had to wait a moment to allow other troopers to pass. “Hey, Ramey,” said one, “after you’ve fetched the Major’s coffee, I could use a pedicure. And some pancakes too. I’m hungry.” The soldier laughed. “Chop-chop, boy.”
Ramey nodded, forced a grin, and went up the ramp. As the lowest-ranking member in the group of soldiers, he was used to getting the shit-work. But you never got used to being reminded about it, he thought. Additionally, he hadn’t enlisted to be a gofer.
*
While young Ellis used the washroom facilities, Fagen and Jennings sat at a table in the locker-room.
“We need to get going as soon as Ellis is done.”
“Where?” asked Jennings.
“Minerva will give us a report on what she’s seen, then we’ll decide which direction.” Fagen lowered his chin and spoke into his mic. “Harry? You got her online yet?”
Harry’s voice came over his transceiver implant. “Systems are up, but still blocked from our comm link. Need to move her outside to get a signal.”
“All right, we’ll be there shortly.”
Jennings shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” asked Fagen.
“We’re out here in the Great Wahabi without back-up against these creatures. Our people are missing, one of us is infected and he seems to be leading us more than we lead him. Seems to me our chances of survival are slim at best. How’s that for starters?”
“I’ve been in worse spots.”
“Yeh, well, maybe so, but it seems to me your reputation has been greatly exaggerated.”
“Take it easy, Jennings, before your mouth gets you in more trouble.”
“Never been one to bite off more than I can chew. How do you think I’ve maintained control over my people all these years? Not by being indecisive, I can guarantee you that.”
“Unless you’ve got something meaningful to suggest, why don’t you shut up?”
Across the table Jennings fixed his stare on Fagen. ”Don’t think I‘m so old I couldn’t give you a run for your money.”
The two men stared at one another for a long moment. Suddenly, they rose to their feet. With a sweep of his hand, Jennings knocked the table away. As they squared off, Ellis walking into the room, carrying his boots. Ellis saw what was happening and froze. He asked an unnecessary question: “What’s going on?”
Fagen didn’t take his eyes from Jennings, but Jennings looked at Ellis. “Nothing,” he said, “just a little disagreement.”
*
Harry had not been completely truthful with Fagen. While it was true he had been unable to establish a comm link with Minerva, he had established a link with Arai. As usual, Tringl had snoozed as Harry spoke to Arai.
“How is Minerva adjusting?”
“Minerva? She’s thrilled, extremely happy. Bart is another story.”
“That was to be expected.”
“Looks like the Corporation has caught up with us. A new F-T-L ship popped in from hyperspace. They saw us, but we went invisible and changed positions, so they lost us. I would have liked to have been a fly on the wall in their control room when I switched Minerva over to stealth mode. Anyway, from the configuration, it looks to be outfitted with hyperspace drives and it has weapons ports. A shuttle has already made its way to the ground.”
“Where? To Jennings Bank?”
“No. To the Boomtown location.”
“Then they’re farther along than I would have guessed. It’s a complication. We’ll have to deal with them sooner or later.”
“Did they come for you?”
“For me, for Fagen, for Minerva, for the kitzloc.”
“Harry?”
“Yes?”
“I want to ask you a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why me? Why did you choose me for the mind enhancement? What if it turned out badly? You know, like scrambling my brain?”
“But it didn’t turn out like that. I knew it wouldn’t. You’re the only one who was capable of stepping in for Minerva. In any case, the systems are still there automatically functioning. Minerva was an autopilot with a personality. We haven’t lost anything, instead we’ve gained two new crew members.”
“I was pretty bored,” admitted Arai. “I didn’t understand.”
“I know,” said Harry.
“But now I do and I feel as if I’m more alive than at any time in my life. Thank you for what you’ve done. I think. Where do we go from here?”
“In a marvelous new direction,” said Harry.
The comm link suddenly dropped and the line disconnected, including digital downloads of telemetry data. The connect light on Harry’s console turned yellow and began blinking as the system tried to re-acquire the signal.
*
The four men and Tringl stood outside their trucks under the stars. An uneasy silence filled the space between Fagen and Jennings. Predictably, there were no tracks to follow although Harry assured them they would pick up a sign.
“A sign?” asked Jennings sarcastically. “Maybe a fire in the sky or a voice in your head?” Jennings kicked at the sand.
“
They know what they’re doing,” said Harry.
“They? The kitzloc?”
“Yes.”
“They are animals, Mr. Irons. Your friends, your woman, and my men are gone. You can’t seem to get it through your rotted brain that they’re lost for good. Once the creatures get a hold of ‘em, they’re gone. I know, I’ve lived through it and seen it plenty of times.” Jennings faced Fagen. “I told you to get a handle on this one,” he pointed at Harry, “before things got worse.”
Moments before, Harry privately admitted to Fagen that Minerva was no longer in control. Fagen was at first incredulous. Then he hoped Harry was wrong, lying, or crazy. Presently, he wasn’t interested in another argument with Jennings.
“So what are you going to do?” asked Jennings as he pressed the point. “Stand around out here until we get a sign? Your data didn’t come through, did it?”
“No signal, in or out,” admitted Fagen, preferring to keep the rest of the news between Harry and himself.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m moving my truck inside. Doesn’t make sense to stay out here.” Jennings returned to his truck.
He had parked just outside the open ramp and, now, twenty minutes later, he backed the vehicle down the ramp again.
“Come on,” Harry said to Fagen. “Let’s move Minerva-Too inside.”
Fagen looked at Harry. “I’m not even going to ask how you did it, but why did you do it?”
“It was necessary. The effects will ripple out and change the quantum perspective. That uncomfortable feeling you are experiencing is the loss of your illusion of control.”
“I don’t like being talked down to, Harry, so cut the crap. I’ve got enough to deal with already. This is serious. Minerva’s my ship.”
Harry smiled. “I didn’t mean to talk down to you. With Minerva’s help, I created a simulation of a kitzloc Crevah. The simulation works enough like the real thing to allow real world changes. One of those was the enhancement of Arai’s intelligence. Another was Minerva’s transformation from the digital medium to the biological. The ship is in no danger, at least no more danger than when Minerva was in control. As I indicated before, all systems are still intact and functioning normally.”
“Apparently not the comm systems.”
“That has nothing to do with Minerva or any of our gear. Communications into this area of the Wahabi has been effectively jammed by the kitzloc.”
“How do you know that? More visions?”
“No. I surmised it.”
“Okay, let’s assume for a moment that I accept everything you say. What is it the kitzloc have in mind for us?”
“I can’t say.”
“Because you don’t want to?”
“Because I don’t know.”
“Was it the kitzloc that made you create the simulation and then change Arai and Minerva?”
“I think it’s safe to say they gave me the idea, but you’ve got to understand, Edward, the human side of me liked the idea of raising up Arai and giving Minerva what she always wanted.”
“Even at the risk of putting us all in danger?”
“We are actually under the same amount of duress we were before. We create danger ourselves.”
“There you go again, speaking all sage like. If you know so much, why don’t you tell me where Bobbi is? Don’t you care what happens to Kathleen?”
“I do care but I believe both are safe. I don’t know where they are. If I did, we’d be headed there right now.”
“All right. But I still don’t know whether to believe you or not. Maybe I should say I don’t know how to believe you. Get the truck back inside for the night. You and Tringl drive it down. I’ll get the door. And just remember…” He paused for effect. “Minerva is my ship.”
“Sure,” said Harry. He nudged Tringl and the two climbed aboard. Harry backed into the gaping hole as Fagen watched.
Fagen didn’t follow the truck inside. He remained where he was for a moment before walking up the nearest dune. Sand fell away, slowing his progress as he climbed. From the top, the view was as if he looked out across an ocean, its waves frozen in time. Below, light shone from the open ramp. The sound of the truck braking to a halt came from the underground garage.
Fagen had walked the soil of numerous worlds. Facing unknown dangers as well as his own fears, he had always persevered. He hadn’t missed the company of other men or the restricting confines of Earth’s corporate structures. In exchange, he had a woman and a crew to share his adventures and his life – what else could a man ask for? Was it all slipping away or, as Harry would say, simply changing? Nothing remained the same. Change was constant, perhaps the only thing any one could expect. They say hope arises from the certainty of change. Otherwise, all is despair.
A breeze came up and Fagen caught the creeping feeling of being watched. He turned a full three-sixty but saw nothing. Alertly, he picked his way back down the dune and entered the garage, shutting the ramp behind.
As he walked toward the loading docks, he saw Harry and Tringl standing outside the truck. Harry was motionless. Beside him, Tringl scratched himself.
“What’s the matter now?” said Fagen, walking up.
“Something’s different in here.”
“What do you mean? The garage?”
“Yes.”
Fagen looked around. “Looks the same to me.”
“Something’s out of place,” murmured Harry.
The door at the loading dock slammed shut as Jennings and Ellis came out, each carrying a handful of gear.
“Going somewhere?” asked Fagen.
“We’re sleeping in the truck, but I guess you should know we’re pulling out in the morning.” Ellis glanced sharply at Jennings, unaware of Jennings’ new plan.
“That’s your choice.”
“Damn right it is.”
Ellis dropped the gear he carried. “Wait a minute,” he said, “I’m not leaving my father out here.”
Jennings turned to him. “Come on son, there’s nothing we can do for him now.”
“No,” Ellis said as he took a step backward.
“I won’t lose the both of you. You’re coming back with me in the morning.”
“I won’t,” the boy said, raising his voice for emphasis.
“Leave the boy alone,” said Harry, “he’ll be all right with us.”
“Stay out of it, Irons,” growled Jennings.
Harry took a step toward Jennings. “I was just trying to…”
Jennings dropped what he was carrying and brought his Vimbacher to bear on Harry.
“You stay the hell away from me.”
Harry raised his palms. “There’s no need to…”
“I’m not listening to you. He…,” Jennings motioned toward Fagen, “can listen all he wants, but I’m not following someone who’s zoned out all the time. You’re a danger to us all.”
Fagen finally spoke. “Calm down, Jennings.”
“I’m as calm as I’m going to get.”
The sudden squealing sound of air released from pneumatics started up, startling everyone. The ramp to the garage began to open. Everyone froze as they watched the widening gap. Stars twinkled in the night sky as a figure stepped slowly down.
“It’s Penbrook,” said Fagen.
“That’s him,” said Ellis, “That’s the guy who grabbed me from the truck.”
Emory walked in as if he’d been out for a stroll. He shook the loose sand from his flowing robe and stamped his feet. Looking up at the gathered group, he said, “Good evening, gentlemen.”
*
Kathleen awoke in a darkened chamber. The floor was smooth and clean, cool against her cheek. She sat up and checked herself for injuries, then stretched out her arms. There was nothing nearby, but from somewhere came the faint sound of gently running water.
She felt overhead and, feeling nothing, she stood, again stretching out her arms into the surrounding dark. Slowly, carefully, she moved about, trying to find som
ething that would give her a frame of reference. Finding nothing, she called out.
“Can anyone hear me? Bobbi? Are you there?”
No reply.
“Anybody?” She sank to her knees. “Oh, Harry,” she said softly.
Without warning, a light flicked on from above, illuminating Kathleen where she sat.
She raised her head. “Who is it?”
“Who isn’t it?” a voice softly responded.
Kathleen peered into the darkness. “What?” she responded.
“Who – isn’t – it?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“What – is – it?”
“The word?” Kathleen remembered Harry’s long-winded discourses on languages. “A referent to an unknown entity,” she answered.
“Entity? Like myself?” The voice was neither high nor low, a mid-tone, but it lilted high and low as if there were a foreign accent behind the words.
“Yes. Where are you?”
“I am here.” Three meters away, another light lit the floor revealing a shadowy figure for an instant before the light went out. “And I am here.” To her left, another spot appeared and in the amount of time it took to turn her head, she again caught only a glimpse of a tall figure.
“Please,” she said, “is this necessary? Can’t we just talk? Face to face?”
The spotlight reappeared in front of her although absent the dark figure.
“You may not like the face. Good first impressions are essential, don’t you think?”
“Why did you bring me here? What do you want?”
“Reality is changed by perception and an integral part of the process is the expectation of the result. You don’t know what to expect, do you?”
“No.”
A tall, middle-aged man stepped into the spotlight. He wore old-fashioned glasses, khaki slacks, loafers worn down at the heels, and a beige sweater over an ordinary white shirt. The sweater had moth holes on the outside of one pocket. In all, it was a retro look Kathleen hadn’t seen in years. But she did find the style to be soothing while subtly maintaining a sense of intelligent propriety. “How’s this?” he said.
“It’ll do. So what’s the point of all this?”