MissionSRX: Deep Unknown

by Matthew D. White

  “All in time,” Fox interjected, waving off the comment. “Any thoughts on what they are wanting with us?” Silence returned as the team considered the question, looking among their companions.

  Othello addressed them first. “They must regard us as something very special. For some reason, they kept us together and allowed us to communicate with them. I get the feeling this is all scripted and rehearsed,” he added, waving about the cabin with his hands.

  They continued only a short time longer before the Emissary cut in again. I’m afraid this must be cut short. We are nearing our destination. The Bloodline will further enlighten you.

  Scott looked out the window as they approached a planet. Either the system was extremely small or their version of a sublight engine was more refined than anything he had seen before. “Is this your home planet?”

  Not at all. This is a dead, rocky world. It holds The Bloodline’s fortification in this system and nothing more.

  “So you occupy multiple star systems?”

  Yes. Many.

  “Why is The Bloodline way out here?”

  It is the safest place in the system for him. He came as soon as he heard about you and has been eagerly awaiting your arrival.

  “I stand by my hypothesis,” Othello declared while a thin haze of atmosphere began to form outside the ship. Star and sunlight was dim at best, but they could see wide swaths of twisted mountains far in the distance on both sides.

  “The planet would need active tectonics to build ranges like this,” Scott surmised before adding, “A magnetic field and neighboring planets to guard against bombardments.”

  Fox nodded. “Yes, extremely different from the last one.”

  They continued to descend to the endless range of dark, frosted mountains and slowly the ship leveled off. It followed a track above the highest distant peaks and came to rest alongside a towering ridgeline.

  The ship landed silently on a small pad inset just a few meters from the rock face. Looking side to side, Grant nearly lost his balance between the mountain wall to the left and the endless expanse on the right.

  Their cabin’s skin again evaporated and the humans felt an inrush of chilled air. Without a breathing mask, Grant felt his heart jump.

  The Emissary caught the sense of concern. Our oxygen and atmospheric requirements are within operational parameters of your own. We will make sure you are not adversely affected; he continued and stood in turn. We have arrived. Please follow me.

  Retrieving his crutches, Scott unsteadily got to his feet. The pain in his joints had subsided slightly although it may have only been an endorphin rush; he intently wanted to see what was waiting for them. They passed back through the cabin and down the ramp built into the ship’s skin to the installation’s landing deck.

  The ground was unmarked stone, uniform colored a deep gray and so flat Scott assumed the platform was carved out with a laser. It was the first time he had seen a processed surface in the system that hadn’t been polished and ground to a pearly white finish. Silently he wondered if the mountain’s milling was due to style or security. Although beautifully finished, it would have been damn near impossible to find the entrance among the thousands of peaks that spread in all directions.

  He changed focus from the horizon to the ship since he could finally see it. Incredibly graceful, every sweeping curve along its shape was perfectly proportioned and suggested it was more a jewel or flowing liquid than a spacecraft. The body was shaped like an elongated lifting wing, with the massive windows of the cabin taking up nearly half its length. At the rear, the ship widened to make room for a series of engines that Scott could have sworn he never heard ignite.

  Together they followed the alien to a stone overhang that led into the face of the mountain. Every surface was made of rock, roughly hewn and carved until they got about fifty meters back. There, tucked into the corner was a massive metal vault door, reminiscent of a missile silo from the First Cold War.

  With hardly a sound, it slid aside as they approached. Grant could see it was well over a meter thick but didn’t show any telltale indentations of where pins would have protruded to seal the installation. Of course, he thought, why would he assume they used such an antiquated mechanism?

  They barely cleared the threshold before the door swung back in place. Inside, the walls and floor were still the same carved stone, but as with the other architecture, several strips of white material ran along the ceiling, glowing with a cool light. A few white panels stood alone on the walls, covered with dense arrangements of symbols that none of the visitors recognized.

  Together they hobbled onto a wide, circular platform to the side of the hallway. Stand strong, The Emissary ordered. We’re about to go down into the depths.

  Scott looked about, saw nothing to hold onto and tried to brace himself to the floor. He heard a gentle hum and the platform unlocked with a light jolt. The others looked around, shocked and concerned, but the alien stood motionless. The hum grew louder and they dropped straight down.

  The stone walls whisked by in a blur as they descended into the heart of the mountain. Fox shifted his weight on his feet, thinking if they gained any more speed, they’d go into free fall, but they remained solidly planted. Their platform must have incorporated its own gravity field.

  As quickly as they started, the platform came to a stop beside a shallow ramp. Grant stepped off and saw the hall immediately opened into a wide cavern, stretching far in every direction. He could only think it resembled a cathedral, with lines of massive stone columns supporting the roof above. Tall, glowing panels decorated the walls like stained glass, casting long shadows of multiple colors across the floors and nearly resembling daylight.

  More imposingly, at least fifty more of the same cloaked aliens waited for the team to arrive. They stood at the ready in two lines on each wall, still and at attention. Unlike their guide, the newcomers’ white garbs were interlaced with splashes of red stitching resembling a finely woven tribal tapestry.

  Do not be afraid, The Emissary’s voice cut in. These are The Bloodline’s guard and are here for your protection.

  Scott felt a hundred sets of eyes upon him as he approached with the others, but wasn’t about to slow down or show fear in front of the whole group. More questions continued to pour through his mind. How could he ever explain what he had already seen? If they survived, would anyone believe him?

  As they passed the guards, they came to a set of shallow stairs that led up to the center of the cavern and the guide stepped aside. I have taken you as far as I have been ordered, he proclaimed. Take the stairs up and The Bloodline shall meet you at the dais.

  Grant, Fox and Kael exchanged glances and with a faint shrug, awkwardly ascended the steps. Mason, Scott and Othello closely followed. Together they stumbled through the pain and made it to the top, where an exquisitely etched, round stone floor waited.

  Hardly a few meters away stood a taller alien, dressed this time in a deep blue cloak. It turned to face the humans and Grant caught its glare through the layers of fabric. Instinctively, he laid the tattered aluminum crutches at the edge of the platform and cautiously approached the imposing being.

  Although limping, Grant tried to keep an air of strength that at least the others could follow as they approached in kind.

  “Are you The Bloodline?” he asked, as if there was any question, in the hope it would be able to understand.

  I am. The voice came through Grant’s mind, louder and more melodic than the Emissary’s before. I knew you’d be the ones. Blessed I am to stand before you. The creature’s head sunk in what appeared to be a bow.

  While the team filtered up and took their places around a semicircular arc, the Bloodline looked between the travelers. As it was said, you are strong enough to stand with us. If you are ready, I no longer need this. He grasped the edges of his cloak with gloved hands.

  Grant nodded. “Of course, do what you must do.”

  The Bloodline snapped the expa
nse of fabric away, letting it fall behind his back. No longer encumbered by the charade, he stood taller and looked down at the humans with clear sight. Their eyes grew wider and a few took small steps back.

  Do not be afraid.

  The command was easier stated than followed. The alien now cleared Grant’s height by almost a full meter, thanks to a multi-jointed pair of legs covered with armored plates -- or scales. Taking most of its chest were a complex set of shoulders, to which were set two massive arms per side.

  The alien’s lower set had been tucked against its abdomen and it now unfolded them like the upper pair. While utterly striking and clearly of unearthly origin, the being had hints of human similarities but those stopped at the head.

  Set atop the Bloodline’s abnormally long neck was a large cranium coated with a light gray skin. There was no sign of a mouth but a line of blank, soulless eyes ran 180 degrees from side to side and set in the center was a tall, straight bridge of a nostril. While thin, it still gave the impression of a strong leading edge.

  Additionally, a series of thin lines crossed its face, from where a human mouth would have been located, across its cheeks and around the row of eyes. They glowed with a pale blue light, nearly from within and Scott tried to gage whether they were reflecting the rays from the false windows or were somehow producing it from within.

  Matted against its scalp were hundreds of small, tightly packed spines, slicked back and down to its neck. As the cloak fell, they flickered and pulled themselves down tighter in response, as if reacting from the chilled air.

  “Why the blankets?” Grant asked, feeling he already knew the answer.

  It was decreed upon our betrayal that we should cloud our faces until you cast your eyes upon me.

  Or not. “What is this decree?”

  The Bloodline looked down at Grant. It is the great history of our civilization. It is our instruction from The Omniscient. It is my purpose to impart our wisdom onto you and beg you for your assistance.

  It was an odd request but the commander wanted to get a gauge of their reach. “How big is your civilization?”

  We stretch across the galaxies.

  Grant looked between the others. “What did he say? Right there?”

  “He said they’ve colonized their galaxy,” Fox replied.

  “Same here, galaxy.”

  “Galaxy.”

  “System.”

  “That could mean thousands of worlds; tens of thousands, even!” Scott added, thinking out loud.

  Grant looked back at the alien, “We’ve clawed our way to a few stars and have a couple dozen permanent settlements. It takes us weeks for our best ships to get across our tiny galaxy. What could we do for you?”

  More than you can imagine. The response came without added inflection, but within the verse was carried a deeper meaning, as if a grand feeling of hope and longing was interspersed in the silence between the words. We hold a great debt, one we are unable to pay, but that is why you have been sent to us.

  “You may be mistaken; I don’t think we were sent by anyone. We’ve been thrown about in the wind halfway across the universe,” Grant responded, walking the line between sounding cold or respectful.

  I absolutely understand, but you must keep an open mind. There is more structure to the universe than what is readily visible.

  “I might have to take your word for it,” Grant continued. “So what is it you expect us to do?”

  Ah, I’m afraid the entire context of that might be a bit much right now, but know that my civilization is fighting for our right to exist. Our creator gave us the hope that one day; another race would arrive to help us in our time of peril. You came as it was foretold. And specifically, The Bloodline pointed the fingers of his upper right hand, You have been chosen by our wisest scholars as the strongest and most incorruptible among your force.

  The group of humans looked between each other, digesting what they had just heard. Grant was still forming a response when their host stepped forward, its hand pointing menacingly at his face. And as the finest warrior among the crew, it shall be your duty to lead.

  Grant’s mind went blank. He was half expecting another shoe to drop, on some level he supposed Fox would be given the greater responsibility. “Lead who?”

  Your crew; whoever you choose. All of us; to salvation! To victory!”

  The last few words rang out through Grant’s mind louder than the rest. “I don’t consider myself anything special. Is it possible you’ve made a mistake?”

  It is always possible, but not in this case. The Bloodline stood face-to-face with the commander. In your case, the decision was unanimous.

  Before anything else could be said, Fox stepped forward. “It sounds like you’re asking for a lot without giving us much of anything in return. If you want us to help you, I want to see my ship and my entire crew. They’re my only responsibility here.” While he spoke, Kael and Mason nodded along.

  The Bloodline nodded. I agree; you are reasonable in your request. I believe such an event can be arranged. They are not far away.

  “Also, if we are to fight a war for you,” Grant added, “your faith might be misplaced. I’m sorry, but there are only six of us here. Even if you still have our ship, it’s not nearly enough to defend a galaxy.”

  You should save your concerns. The Omniscient shall provide for all things and we have made our preparations in kind.

  “Who did he say would provide?” Grant asked his team.

  “The creator.”

  “God.”

  “God.”

  “Lord.”

  Grant shook the answers off. Never on this side of his life did he consider himself among the faithful and it certainly wasn’t trending in a positive direction. The fact that an unknown alien would quote its excuse for a religion among a war plan was more disconcerting.

  If you’re ready, a ship is standing by to take us to your crew. The alien said, snapping Grant from his wandering thoughts.

  “Actually, Sir, I’d like to know something,” Scott interjected again. “You were only referred to by our guide as The Bloodline. Do you have a name?

  The creature standing before them cocked its strangely-shaped head to the side and looked down at the engineer. The question caused him to pause, as if he had never considered the words that had just arrived in his mind before.

  I have no terminology within which to place my personal being. My ancestral line has been referred to in this way all the way back to antiquity without regard to individual forms. With the fulfillment in your coming, I am the end of that line.

  “Wait,” Scott said. “What did he call himself there?”

  “The end.”

  “The end of the line.”

  “Completion.”

  “The Omega,” Othello added at the end. The team turned to him and shared a collection of fleeting glances.

  “Can we call you Omega?” Grant asked the figure before them.

  The alien thought a moment longer. In my understanding, I believe Omega to be a reasonable reference to my being. You may refer to me thusly if you wish.

  The rest of the group nodded in concurrence. “Then Omega it is.” Grant continued, “You said we’d get to see our crew?”

  That is correct. Omega gestured back down to the entrance. If you’d follow me back to the surface, we’ll be on our way. Again he stopped while the humans went for their aluminum crutches. You may leave those here. You’ll no longer need them.

  Grant skeptically looked back and caught the alien’s glance. Trusting the strange being’s judgment, he took the first step off the dais and found the pain within his joints had subsided to nothing but a dull throbbing. He hadn’t thought about the fading sensation while they had been talking, but now the void was impossible to ignore.

  Before them, waiting on the walkway below, stood the Emissary. Like Omega, his cloak was now thrown back, revealing a similar assembly of long appendages and a skull with multiple dark ocular sensors an
d blue, glowing striations. He was attired in light, form-fitting armor dusted with shades of gray in contrast to their leader. From a few meters back, Scott couldn’t immediately decide whether the coloration was due to extended wear or tactical camouflage. Due to the apparent importance of their arrival, he was inclined to side with the latter. Although he didn’t see any weapons, it wasn’t something he wanted to experience.

  Their guide looked over the human guests at last with unveiled vision, undoubtedly reading deeper into them than before. At once Fox could sense him nodding subconsciously in approval of them, as well as putting off an air of relief now that the hood was removed.

  Visitors, a ship has been prepared to take us to your companions and your vessel. His voice now fell across their minds like a low bit-rate audio recording, compared to the relative fidelity and richness of Omega’s.

  Grant nodded in response and glanced between the two aliens. “Thank you.”

  You have that wrong, Omega replied. We owe you everything we could dream.

  The works struck Grant hard once again and he kept trying to tie the events together. Farther down the walkway, he could make out the lines of other aliens were still fully clothed by their red garments. “Your guards are still covered?”

  Yes. It is in everybody’s best interest. Omega answered first. Grant and Fox shared a glance and led the way back out of the chamber.

  The group followed the passage out and took the same extravagant lift back to the planet’s surface. Both aliens stood in silence without movement, putting the rest of the group on edge. Scott looked between the pair, hoping for a clue as to what would be expected. Maybe that’s it, he thought. They’re sharing a private dissertation while the rest of the team’s in the dark.

  His focus changed again as they reached the top of the lift. The small, sleek, white ship was gone and replaced by a larger vessel that was covered by a shimmering skin that blended precisely with the rock around it. Although it retained the flowing lines of their previous mode of transportation, the control surfaces were thicker which gave the impression it was built to sustain a heavier beating over a longer distance.