Omnigalactic

  That might have sounded ridiculous, but after that day, I didn’t know what to believe anymore. I had to find out. I had to look inside that book.

  ****

  The next three days were fairly mundane. I had to maintain an appearance of not caring about Glennsworth's hidden knowledge. I left him alone, and when we did run into one another, I kept it to small talk. He didn't catch on — at least, he didn't appear to. But that night, I would hatch my plan of getting a peek at that book.

  After a depressing dinner of dehydrated fish and berries, I relegated myself to the cockpit for the next few hours and read my dad's book to pass the time. I’d slacked on it, due to the events of the last few days, so I caught up on maintaining loyal clients, and the chapters discussing business upkeep and accounting. Some of the information stuck, but I couldn't keep my mind from drifting toward Glennsworth and that book.

  I set my dad's book on the console and put the Lady Luna on autopilot. I hopped down from my chair and crept down the main corridor. Silence. Only the dull hum of the engines resonated against the steel walls of the hull. My boots made subtle thuds as I continued to creep through the ship. Jord was fast asleep on the bottom cot in the crew cabin. Good; he wouldn’t ask what I was up to.

  Since Glennsworth wasn't in the crew cabin, that meant he was in the only other place onboard - the engine room. I hoped to the Pantheon that he was asleep, as well.

  Further down the main corridor, I went. I lessened my already slow pace and paid careful attention to the sound of my footsteps. Like a ghost, I drifted silently into the engine room. There he was, nestled under the console of the engine calibrators, snoring like a giant, cave-dwelling rizzonet during the rainy season. I knew he hadn't carried on any luggage, so all his personal belongings were under those damn robes. My heart thudded and my throat dried out. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead and cheeks.

  I took a deep breath and lifted one of the flaps at the front of his robes. Ever so carefully, I folded the flap back, revealing one of his arms. Clutched in his hand was the book. I lifted his fingers from their soft, relaxed grip.

  He didn't wake. So far, so good.

  The beads of sweat condensed into a droplet, and it splashed onto his chin. No! He stirred, snorted loudly, and rubbed his chin with his hand. Busted. What should I say? I had to think of something quick.

  But, he returned to his slumber. I exhaled hard in relief. The book was free from his grip! I grasped it between my hands and tucked it under my arm. What if he woke? I couldn't scuttle off with it. My whole plan would crumble. I decided to sit down next to him; that way, if he woke, I could put it next to him and act like nothing happened. I would tell him I’d heard a funny noise in the engine room and came to check on it.

  The book pulsed with heat in my hands, as if emitting some sort of energy. On the cover was a golden tree with hundreds of branches, and on each branch was a different kind of symbol, all unique. Underneath the tree was a crimson circle. A gold, five-pointed star was in the middle of the circle, with tiny symbols at each of the points.

  I opened the book and was greeted by the scent of stale paper. How old was this thing? I turned the pages carefully, fearing it would crumble in my hands.

  Strange, alien inscriptions lined the pages, and some of them were accompanied by illustrations of creatures. Some had evil faces with fanged mouths and horns. Some had hooved feet with wings and tails. On some, I couldn't distinguish which end was their head and which end was their tail. There was a page with harpies on it. A-ha! That one I know! There was an inscription in red lettering. I wondered if that was the passage Glennsworth read. If only I could have interpreted the language…

  A klaxon sounded. I slammed the book shut and placed it on Glennsworth’s chest. He shot up and slammed his head on the console. I leapt up to my feet and tried to make it look like I was just walking in. “Morning, Professor! I was trying to wake you before the alarm went off.” I gave a fake chuckle.

  He rubbed his head. “You were too late, I'm afraid,” he mumbled. “What is happening? Are we under attack again?”

  “No, Sir. That's just a routine alarm. We're approaching the Harland System. We're almost to Melville.”

  He nodded. “I see. Shouldn't you be at the helm, then? I didn't offer fifteen-hundred bitcreds to crash into an asteroid.”

  I laughed nervously and socked him in the arm. “You're funny when you want to be! Anyway, Jord should be getting breakfast ready while I take us in. We'll be there in no time.”

  “Right,” he said, looking around. “Do you have a hygiene chamber onboard? I am much in need of washing.”

  “Yes, Sir. Just ask Jord where it is, and he'll show you. I'll head back to the cockpit and make sure we don't hit any of those asteroids you're so worried about.”

  I walked away casually and exhaled in relief. He hadn’t suspected anything. At least, I hoped he hadn't.

  Jord was busy adding water to the dehydrated breakfast meals in the kitchenette. His back was turned, so I scampered out of the crew cabin and down the corridor. I manned the controls and disengaged autopilot.

  As I activated the Lady Luna's Realspace beacon and locked her in for transition, images of the book bombarded my mind. All the symbols, creatures, and red text swirled around in my head. What was that secret knowledge? I had no reference point with which to even begin to understand it all. Maybe with the proper teacher — like Glennsworth —I could unlock its secrets. I shook the thought out of my head. The guy was a quadruple-locked vault with security lasers and armed guards. No way he'd share it with an idiot like me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  You Crazy Psycho

  That was the longest short Interspace jump of my life. For the three days we spent inside, I was either sleeping or reading more of my dad's book. It was the only thing keeping my mind off Glennsworth's weird book — despite how often it wandered there. Glennsworth kept to himself, save for his meals. But even then, he was a person of few words. He was aloof, uncaring. His mind must have never stopped turning. I wondered if he was just as obsessed as I was. (Me, obsessed? No way, I wasn’t obsessed. I meant interested.)

  Jord interrupted my train of thought with a plate of steamed algae patties and reedberry juice.

  “Here's your breakfast, champ,” he said. “By the way, nice flying back there. I knew I made the right choice, going into business with you.”

  I grabbed my breakfast, set it on my lap, and mashed a whole patty into my mouth. Mmmm. Nice and foamy. I washed it down with the sweet and tart juice. “Thanks. You didn’t do too bad a job shooting.”

  “We almost there? I'm ready to get you-know-who off this ship. I've had enough weirdos to last me the rest of the year.”

  “Another half-hour, give or take.”

  “Good; I'm ready to make some real money and do some real work. I forgot how boring space travel was. Anyway, let me know if you need anything else. I'll be putting some last-minute touches on the weapons.”

  We passed through the Wyn Gate, and the watery world of Harland appeared in full display. It was like a gem of sapphire against a sheet of black velvet with little holes of light peeking through it. I typed the coordinates provided by Doctor Rupert into the route tracker. The greenish-yellow rings careened around to the far side of Harland. I followed them in.

  Once we hit the atmosphere, I told Jord and Glennsworth to hold on over the intercom. The internal temperature rose, and flames arced all around the ship. I shook violently in my chair and hoped to the Pantheon that the Lady Luna wouldn't explode, burning us to a crisp. She’d gotten us that far. She couldn't give up on me yet.

  We made it through! I sighed in relief and wiped the sweat from my forehead and neck. Hopefully, she'd make the return trip, too.

  For a planet lacking any visible swamps, marshes, or bogs, Harland was actually kind of beautiful up close. Waves crashed and churned, foaming white. Birds dove under the ocean and came screaming back to the s
urface with mouths full of fish. In the clear, bluish-green water, I could see schools of fish — hundreds of thousands of them — being chased by much larger creatures of the deep. I started to think about how much fun it might be to deep-sea fish out there. Those things were huge. Much bigger than the dinky little fish back home.

  Up ahead, tiny islands littered the ocean, each filled with tropical trees and lush, teal, alien vegetation. I assumed the birds must have lived on the islands and flew out for hunting. There were some tiny communities nestled on the beaches, getting progressively larger as we flew overhead.

  At last, we reached the biggest island. Fifty or so moss-and-sand-covered structures flanked a short stretch of paved road. A few construction vehicles and mechanized suits traveled back and forth, hauling heavy equipment and supplies. At the end of the road was an octagonal landing pad, big enough for about three freighter-class ships, maximum. A transport ship was busy unloading personnel and supplies. I reduced the prograde thrust and took us in to land.

  We assembled near the boarding ramp and departed the ship. Doctor Rupert jogged toward us, waving her hands, her golden locks of hair blowing in the wind. I waved back.

  Jord leaned in and mumbled, “So, that's what she looks like up-close. Not bad for the science-y type.”

  I nudged him hard and told him to shut up before she came within earshot.

  “Mister Cadel!” she said as she slowed her jog to a stroll. “I'm so glad you're here. How was the trip?”

  “The usual.” I tried to act cool and collected, as if I had done it before. “Nothing extraordinary.”

  She looked at Jord, and then at me with confusion. “Is it only you?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “Is that a problem?”

  “No. I assumed there would be more of you. And, I wasn't expecting you to be here physically, Mister Cadel.”

  “Well, I come from the hands-on school of business management,” I bullshitted. I couldn't look like a chump in front of our first big client. “We are the best in the business; I assure you.”

  “And who is this?” she asked, regarding Jord.

  Jord took her hand and kissed it. “Jord Pirt, Co-Founder and Director of Ordnance. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Doctor.”

  Doctor Rupert's sun-kissed cheeks blushed red. Jord, you sly bastard, I thought. Putting the moves on her. I had to break that up. “Why don't you show us around? I need to stretch my legs.”

  “Of course. Follow me,” she said.

  She led us down the stretch of road and pointed at the various structures. There was the main research laboratory, temporary community housing, some smaller, private housing for long-term residents, storehouses, construction equipment, an infirmary, and a makeshift recreation area.

  When we reached the end of the tour, I asked if there was any available lodging. I tried to deflect and say we needed a place for quick access to our weapons, but really, it was because I was tired of sleeping in the crappy cot aboard the Lady Luna.

  She showed us to the community house called “the Brick”. It was a simply designed, long, brownish-red, four-story, rectangular structure with plasteel windows in every room. We were assigned a corner room on the third floor. It was filled with two beds, a wooden table and chairs that looked like they were carved from the local trees, a dinky kitchenette, and a closet. The walls were the same brick-red as the exterior, and the floors were bare steel. I won't lie; we might as well have slept on the ship.

  I sat on the bed and bounced to check its softness. Never mind; the bed would do.

  “Will this be okay, gentlemen?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” I said. “Although, this is only enough for two. We need a third bed.”

  She looked at me, tilting her head. “I'm sorry. Are you expecting company?”

  “Yes, he's right—” I turned to point at Glennsworth. But, he was gone, nowhere to be seen. My head jolted back and forth around the room. It had to be a joke of some kind. “Where did the Professor go?”

  Jord looked around. “What the…? Where'd he go?”

  “Who are you talking about?” Doctor Rupert asked.

  Glennsworth must have moved on to his next goal, his next destination, wherever that might have been. He was a mysterious guy.

  My PCD pinged. I looked down and read a message from Glennsworth himself.

  Glennsworth: The fifteen-hundred bitcreds has been deposited into the Omnigalactic account. Thank you for your help.

  Me: It was a pleasure, Professor. Good luck to you.

  I had a feeling that even if I pressed him about where he went or what he was up to, he'd simply ignore my message. I guessed I'd never find out any more about his weird magic. Sorry, what was it again – “the occult arts”?

  I shook my head. “Never mind,” I said. “Thank you for the accommodations, Doctor.”

  “You're welcome. I don't mean to pry, but when are you planning on… completing the contract?”

  Thankfully, Jord jumped in — after I just stared at her with a blank face. “We'll get to work as soon as we're settled in. Once we have enough information on what we're dealing with, we’ll set out to take care of the animal.”

  She flashed a pretty smile and thanked us, then left.

  I hopped down from the bed. “Looks like Glennsworth has already moved on. He just sent a message saying he paid us the fifteen-hundred.”

  Jord leapt onto his bed. “Good. I'm glad that asshole's off the ship.”

  I started thinking about that book and how I'd never lay eyes on it again. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

  “C’mon, let’s unload our stuff. Grab the brew, too. I get the feeling this place is dry.”

  ****

  By the time we’d finished unpacking, it was midday. The white sun beamed down on Melville — and directly onto my head. Anura was often cloudy and rainy, so I wasn't used to the constant sunlight. Jord suggested we should go to the infirmary and pick the brains of the physicians and surviving patients — if there were any. So, we headed down the road.

  Hidden between the lab and one of the larger storehouses, the infirmary looked as plain and minimal in appearance as the Brick, and most of the other structures in Melville. If it weren't for the red, wooden cross out front, I'd have never known the building's function. We entered the automated door and followed the sounds of agitated moans down the hallway. The hallway ended, and we entered a giant room, filled with fifty or so beds. Every single bed was filled. Had every patient there been a victim of the animal attack? Doctor Rupert was next to a patient in the center of the room. She waved us over.

  She was assessing a middle-aged Human with salt-and-pepper hair. He babbled whenever she asked him a question. She checked his pupils, tested the strength of each limb, and asked him to follow a series of commands. He wouldn't follow her commands (or maybe he wasn't even aware of them). It was like he was adrift, floating in dreamland. I tried looking him in the eyes, but he stared through me like I didn't exist. I snapped my fingers in his face to see if he'd react. Nothing.

  “Mister Cadel, Jord, what brings you here?” Doctor Rupert asked. She scanned the patient's body with a beeping, handheld device.

  I cringed when she referred to Jord by his first name. I said, “We're here to gather some information that will help us understand—”

  “—to understand what we're dealing with,” Jord cut me off. “That way, we will understand what level of firepower and tactics to use against it.”

  She nodded and looked impressed. At least, that was good for our brand. My dad had harped on branding and public image a lot in the last chapter I’d read. But, I had to say, I didn't appreciate Jord cutting me off.

  “I see. I'm willing to help in any way I can. What sort of information do you need?” she asked.

  Screw it, I thought, and just let Jord talk. I would have botched it, anyway.

  “We need to assess the type and severity of their wounds and
gather some eyewitness accounts of the attacks,” Jord replied.

  I couldn't help myself; I had to cut in. If I was going to pose as the CEO of Omnigalactic, I needed to act like it. I pointed at a crusty, elderly Human in a bed marked “30”. “How about this Human? Is he a survivor?”

  “Yes, but his current state is unrelated to the attack.”

  “That's strange,” I said. “I mean, I'm no doctor, but he looks psychologically traumatized.”

  “That was my first thought, but imaging scans revealed he has early-onset frontotemporal dementia,” she replied. “Somehow, he slipped past our pre-op health screen.”