by Thomas Stone
A voice interrupted Fagen. “That won’t be necessary.” Everyone turned in unison. Emory Penbrook stood in the open door looking none the worse for wear. Tringl stood behind him.
*
The lone Tec’Lissir made no move to rise from its chair. It looked at Jennings with big eyes as he approached.
“Please don’t kill me,” it said in plain English. “I am not a soldier like the others.”
Jennings was shocked to hear it speak and stared for a long moment.
“It speaks our language,” said Ramey finally.
The alien turned its large head toward the soldier. “I speak a number of languages, though I doubt you have heard of any of them.”
Ramey lowered his spear. “I speak a little Spanish.”
“English is good,” said Jennings, moving a step closer. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I am Kaliis, pilot of this craft. I am presently awaiting instructions.”
Jennings looked about the empty control room. With variations for the Tec’Lissir, the ship looked exactly like Minerva. An idea had formed long before Jennings entered the ship, but he had given it up as the events of the last few days had unfolded. Now, it rose to the fore of his mind. “Who’s left to give you orders?”
The creature looked at the console. “The computer.”
“Are you saying the computer tells you what to do?” asked Ramey as he touched the wire that ran from the alien’s head to the console.
“Yes.”
Jennings and Ramey exchanged glances. “And what do you expect the computer to say?”
Something like a sigh emerged from the alien’s air holes. “To prepare for departure. It is all pre-programmed. The mission has failed. We were unprepared for the resistance we encountered.”
“Departure for where?”
“The Tec’Lissir home world.
“I don’t want to go there,” said Ramey.
Jennings held up a hand. “Wait a minute.” To Kaliis, he asked, “Can you override the course destination?”
“No.”
“He can change it if we tell him to.” Ramey raised his spear again and the alien flinched.
“Easy,” Jennings cautioned. “Can you open a comm channel to the other ship?”
“A comm channel to the other ship is presently open. The computer has received data that relates to the programmed departure.”
“It’s stalling,” insisted Ramey.
“Wait a minute,” said Jennings. “What kind of data?”
“I am not allowed to access that information, but I do know my prime directive has changed.”
“What was your prime directive?”
“To serve the interests of the Tec’Lissir.”
“And what is your prime directive now?”
“To deliver the downloaded data to my home planet.” For a moment, the alien seemed distracted, as if receiving a message via its implant. “I have received a message for you, Mr. Jennings.”
“A message? For me? From whom?”
“From the computer. It offers full disclosure to you in exchange for protection for you and your friend.”
“How would that work?”
“Apparently, a great portion of the transferred data contains a simulator of sorts. The computer has told me all that is required is for us to access the simulator within its virtual environment and all answers will be revealed.”
“Us?”
“Yes, it includes me in the proposal.”
“I don’t understand,” said Ramey.
“How can we access this simulator?” asked Jennings.
“Take a position at one of the consoles. Attach lead wires anywhere on your cranium.”
“As simple as that?”
“Yes.”
Ramey and Jennings spent the next minutes arguing whether or not to agree to the offer. “Why would I want to go flying around the universe?” asked Ramey. “I’m a soldier for hire, a grunt...”
“Without a job as of today,” added Jennings. “Look, I’ve been stuck on this planet for years praying for a way to get off. This may be the best opportunity I’ll ever have. And you? Where is your life headed? It’s a miracle you weren’t killed along with everyone else.”
Ramey shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said in a way that showed Jennings he was getting through to the young soldier.
“Come on,” offered Jennings, “you want to live forever?”
As Jennings and Ramey settled into their positions, the electronic connection transported their senses into the Crevah. They stood before the plot alongside Kaliis, their new ally, and the gathering light fell over their upturned faces, removing all fear as well as restoring a new sense of purpose, and finally, removing all knowledge of the kitzloc except for a vestige of dread about a vague creature.
Unfelt by the three, outside the simulator, the ship began to rise. It took only minutes to exit Mirabel’s atmosphere and begin its journey to the Tec’Lissir home world carrying a virtual device with the potential of changing the course of a civilization.
*
After shaking Tringl’s fur-covered hand and watching Bobbi and Bart exchange hugs with Tringl, Fagen eyed the old man suspiciously. “So. You managed to survive.”
Penbrook’s eyes twinkled and again Fagen wondered just how crazy the old man really was.
“Yes, well, somehow I always seem to survive.”
Bobbi stepped forward. “And we’re glad you did, Emory. But what about...? Bobbi stopped herself. She sniffed the air. “Does anybody else smell that?”
“What?” asked Bart.
“I don’t know, something sweet, maybe...”
A rumbling suddenly filled the complex and the floor trembled. The humans peered at the walls and ceiling as if they might come tumbling down at any moment.
“Are we under attack -- again?” asked Fagen.
Penbrook shook his shaggy, white head. “No, no. No cause for alarm. It’s the Tec’Lissir ship. It’s leaving.”
“How do you know?”
Penbrook merely shrugged and looked at the littered floor. Tringl remained at the old man’s side and likewise stared at the floor.
With that bit of news, Bobbi, Luther, and young Ellis hurried out to verify what Penbrook had said. Bart lingered behind.
“What’s going on here?” Fagen asked Penbrook.
“Mr. Fagen,” he began, “we are always in the middle of something, something is always going on. One event leads to another without end.”
Fagen grinned. “You do know that sounds like so much gibberish, don’t you?”
Penbrook chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it does.”
“Who are you, really?”
Penbrook spread his hands. “What you see is what you get.”
Bart yawned, a big, wide, open-mouthed yawn. Fagen stared at him until Bart sheepishly returned the look. “Sorry, I can’t help myself. I’m really sleepy.”
“You need to take care of your people, Mr. Fagen,” said Penbrook. “That’s what you’re good at. It’s time for you to go. It’s time for you to leave this place.”
“Aren’t you going with us?”
“Me? Leave here? Why, this is my home. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“But how will you survive?”
“Just as I have all along, long before you came.”
Fagen frowned. Oddly, Bart seemed disinterested in the conversation and walked up the corridor, clapping Tringl on a hairy shoulder as he passed the orange giant.
“Tringl seems very attached to you now.”
Penbrook looked at his companion. “Yes. We have developed an affinity for one another. He has unusual calmative effects on those around him, you know. He has elected to remain with me.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Quite sure.”
“What about Harry and Kathleen?”
“What about them?”
“Have you seen any sign of them? I can’t believe they’re go
ne for good. If you can give me any hint of where they might be, where I might look for them, if they’re still alive...”
“Stop worrying about Harry and Kathleen. Take care of the things you can take care of. You’ve done your best. Quite commendable, actually. If there’s something you can do about Harry and Kathleen, I’m sure eventually it will come to you.”
“I suppose then, this is good-bye.”
“I suppose it is.”
Fagen offered his hand and Penbrook grasped it. For an instant, Fagen imagined he felt a tingle, an electric discharge like static electricity, and then it was gone.
As he made his way up the battle-scared hallway, Penbrook called out to him, “Tringl and I will take care of the soldiers’ remains. All of them, human and Tec’Lissir were doing their duty.”
Fagen turned and said, “Thank you.” As Fagen turned to go, Penbrook said, “One last thing before it escapes me.”
Fagen stopped. “Yes?”
“The others will not remember much about what has transpired, but you will. You are the only one who will. You will be tempted to remind them, to remember what has happened, but it will be to no avail. Use your knowledge wisely.”
Fagen stared at Penbrook for a long moment. “I still think you’re crazy. You know that, don’t you?”
The old man chuckled again. “Yes, of course.”
As Fagen reached the open airlock, he glanced back for a last look. Penbrook and Tringl still stood at the end of the corridor. Tringl gazed at the old man in what Fagen could only describe as reverence. Then, for the briefest instant, Penbrook’s face changed. He looked innocent, young, almost cherubic, and he radiated light. Fagen blinked hard and the illusion was gone. Emory Penbrook raised a hand in farewell.
*
The first task upon leaving the complex was to return the survivors to Jennings Bank. The reunions were gratifying to Fagen, yet served to remind him that he had lost two great friends and companions. So, it was no surprise to Bobbi and the rest of Fagen’s crew that Fagen chose to not tarry at the colony. The only curiosity noted by Fagen was a change that had come over the inhabitants of the town, including those found at the kitzloc Crevah in the middle of the Great Wahabi. They seemed calmer and therefore happier. Fagen heard no grumblings over local politics nor did anyone say a word about the kitzloc. Of course, the inhabitants of Jennings Bank asked about Gary Jennings. Where was he? Where had he gone? Fagen told them what he knew -- the town administrator had become lost in the Great Wahabi. Many expressed their regret over the loss of their leader and not a few privately applauded. Luther Cross was nominated as his successor but Fagen’s team didn’t stick around for the election results. The Braithwaite survivors were anxious to return to Earth. Although filled with regret over the loss of Harry and Kathleen, Fagen wanted to get away from Mirabel as well. Less than twenty-four hours after returning to Jennings Bank, Minerva and her crew began the return journey to Earth.
Everyone spent the trip resting and the only time Fagen saw the others, except for Bobbi of course, was when he passed them on the way to the chow hall. He intentionally avoided the Braithwaite survivors. Although they remained slightly amnesiac as to the missing time and anything to do with the kitzloc, they were a demanding lot with multiple requests for creature comforts.
Twelve hours into the homebound trip, Fagen wandered up to the control room and found Arai alone at the helm.
The Bedoran was reading from a monitor at his console when Fagen came in. Arai’s tail twitched as he glanced at Fagen. “I found something of interest in the Braithwaite archives.”
“Yeh? What is it?”
“It’s a report on the first expedition to Braithwaite. Penbrook’s group. It verifies the leader as Anita Lopez and says she succumbed to an unknown disease while on Mirabel. Francois Dumont is on the team manifest as well. I think he is among those we took from the Crevah. None of them remember a thing.”
“What about Penbrook?”
“Yeh, he’s on the manifest too, but...”
“What?”
“The report says Penbrook was the first casualty of the expedition. He went MIA just days after the group arrived on Mirabel.”
Fagen checked the report for himself as Arai waited. When Fagen was done, Arai asked what it all meant.
Fagen paused before admitting he didn’t know.
Minerva was one of three interstellar ships in the entire known universe outfitted with a post-lightspeed singularity drive. The unique propulsion system provided a return trip that took something over forty-eight hours for the crew members, although in Earth time, years had passed since their unscheduled departure. When they arrived, they found the Braithwaite Corporation was still a power to contend with and the company had a long memory. As a result, Fagen and the entire crew were summarily arrested and imprisoned.
Fagen was treated especially poorly due to his crimes against Braithwaite and humanity in general. He was questioned at length about where he had been and what he had done. Fagen made no effort to conceal the facts and told them everything he knew. Either because his story was so fantastic or because Fagen had double-crossed them before, they continued to grill him even though he cooperated, up until they needed help accessing the AI aboard his spaceship.
At first, when he explained that the interface required the native Bedoran, they didn’t believe him. After three days of questioning topped off by truth detectors and truth-inducing drugs, his captors admitted that perhaps, there was something in what Fagen continued to insist. Arai was summoned from his cell and taken to the vessel where he did as he was asked and accessed the computer for the Braithwaite authorities. Upon arousing Minnie, the first thing she did was to show the inquisitors her new simulation software. Afterwards, they had no more questions. They released Fagen and his crew and assigned them all to re-assume their duties aboard the Braithwaite frontier space exploration vessel named Minerva.
No one ever asked about the kitzloc again. From then on, Fagen kept his thoughts private, not even mentioning the creatures to Bobbi anymore, although from time to time he did discuss the possibility of returning to Mirabel to search for Harry and Kathleen. It was just as Penbrook had predicted, no one remembered the entire story but Fagen.
Epilogue
A granite block measuring one meter by one half meter floated into a niche that completed a row of similar blocks. Harry stood back to admire his work. Noticing an adjacent block sticking out a few millimeters from the others, Harry focused and pointed a forefinger. The block seemed to move of its own accord into a position in alignment with the others.
The supporting columns for the roof were complete but Harry was uncertain how to construct the slanting roof. He wasn’t an architect or a structural engineer but it didn’t matter. In time, he would figure it out. He had plenty of time.
The granite came from a makeshift quarry half a kilometer from the construction site. Using his powers of concentration, Harry was able to heat the air molecules along lines he hand-drew on the rocks until the facings were sheared into whatever sizes he required. Transportation of the blocks was accomplished by telekinesis, one at a time, day in and day out. It was not, however, drudgery. Harry worked as much or as little as he wanted. He and Kat took plenty of time off by creating holidays and traveling to distant parts of Mirabel via the Crevah located a kilometer to the north. They enjoyed their trips and even built a summer home on the shores of a lake in the northern mountains.
Although game was plentiful, they preferred to live on the lush vegetation and fruits the planet had to offer. The native wildlife innately understood and various species sometimes visited the couple outside their domicile next to the construction site. The Great Wahabi lay a hundred kilometers to the west and two hundred to the south, its edges slowly creeping toward their home at a rate of several meters a year.
Harry walked to his left and entered the chamber through a hole he’d left in the exterior wall. The inscriptions on the walls were not yet comple
te but over the course of the preceding five years, he had engraved an account of his family history and was well into a narrative about his exploits with the future space explorer, Edward Fagen. His drawings were not very good but Kathleen’s artistic talents helped and they presently had rather good portraits of Fagen, Bart, Minerva, Bobbi, Arai, and Tringl etched into the granite.
Not once in their imposed stay on Mirabel had they seen the kitzloc. It was as if they were alone on the entire planet. Kathleen and Harry were in love -- they always had been -- but even so, in their isolation they probably would have driven one another mad if not for an unforeseen occurrence.
A high-pitched shout distracted Harry and he returned to the door and looked toward the house. At the end of a swinging vine strung from neighboring trees was Harry Jr., hanging onto a makeshift basket at the bottom of the tether, laughing with delight as his mother swung him to and fro. Harry watched with pleasure for a long moment before remembering where he had placed a missing chisel Kat used for carving her portraits. Harry exited the chamber and walked to the far side of the incomplete building. The tool was still where it was dropped -- none of the wildlife had carried it off as a trophy -- and Harry bent to pick it up.
From the corner of his eye, Harry caught movement in the foliage at the edge of a stand of trees. Harry straightened and paused as he peered ahead, wondering which of the critters watched him. To his utter surprise, a man stepped from the vegetation. The man stood still for a long moment, staring back at Harry before finally stepping forward.
It was Edward Fagen.
THE END
About the Author
Thomas C. Stone is a lifelong writer and journalist with a penchant for fast-moving, speculative fiction. Stone’s topics cover first contact, new energy sources, quantum reality, and self-aware computers, as well as an entertaining take on how characters react to their circumstances.