“Star? Genesis?” he mumbled softly. Oh, God.
“May my father come in? We won’t harm you, but the enemy will return when they learn you’re here. We have little time.”
Bach stepped sideways, rambling, almost tripping over his words. “We’re from Earth. A space mission failed and our ships crashed.” He wasn’t sure how much to say. “Those others … what are they gonna do to my fiancée and crewmates? We have to stay together.”
The man entered with his hands resting on a utility belt around his waist. He, too, wore a silver jumpsuit with the same glowing golden icon over the heart. His weathered face, framed by white hair and bushy brows, reflected wisdom of generations past.
He stopped in front of Bach, just short of where the pipe could reach. Bach couldn’t help but notice the elderly man’s round wire trifocals and striking ice-blue eyes. The old man spoke, “Friend, my name is Altemus. We know you’re from the blue planet. We monitored the forcefield that brought you in but couldn’t prevent enemy intervention. Your crewmates fell into the wrong hands.”
Bach tapped the pipe against his open left hand. His eyes darted from Altemus to Star. “Where are they?”
“On the continent of Ulwor.”
“Will I see them again?”
“Doubtful,” said the elder.
“What’s gonna happen to them? I’ll rescue them,” he said without waiting for an answer.
Altemus stepped forward, gripped Bach’s shoulders and nailed his steely blue eyes to the earthling’s. “Listen. You’ll not see them again. But you’ll be safe with us in Dura. What’s your name?”
Bach tried to inch backward, but bumped into the wall. “Bach, Bach Turner.”
Wiping his hands on his hips as if to dry them, Altemus looked Bach up and down. “You’re wet from the lake. Call yourself twice blessed my friend, eluding the enemy and escaping the death lake.”
“Death lake?”
“Yes. That’s one of two phases. It’s obviously not in death mode now, but if it were, and you had stuck in even a finger, it would have been liquefied.”
Bach swallowed hard.
“Hurry now. Are there belongings you want to bring?”
Bach scanned the rubble-strewn cabin. “A few.”
Altemus sighed. “Time is critical. May I help?”
“Uh, no. I don’t have much.”
Searching for possessions, Bach noticed Star and her father kneeling beside Faith’s body.
Altemus looked at Bach, “Someone will come soon to bury your friend.”
Bach stared at his lifeless crewmate. “Nothing seems wrong. She just stopped breathing. Are you going to bury her at … at Dura?”
Star helped her father to his feet and shook her head. “We can’t risk contamination. We have stringent prevention measures regarding illness and disease since the Specter’s biological warfare.”
“The Specter?”
“Ulwor’s dark power, the embodiment of evil, a master of seduction, and lord of the Rooks—Rulers of other kingdoms,” she replied.
Rulers of other kingdoms? Bach tried to process Star’s words.
Altemus motioned to him. “Get your belongings.”
Bach tossed a few things into a pillowcase, slung it over his back, and reluctantly took his last breath inside the AstroLab as he stepped from the ship. Two feet out, he stopped short, gawking. The aliens’ ship looked like an oversized, mechanized dragonfly with translucent blue and green wings extending from a long, tapered body. The cockpit’s dark convex windows were positioned as eyes in a bug’s head. “A dragonfly-principled spacecraft?” he mumbled aloud.
Altemus led Bach forward by the arm. “We’ll bring you up to speed on our planet when we reach Dura, our home continent.” He rested a hand on Bach’s back. “We’ll not harm you.”
Struggling to digest what seemed surreal, Bach looked at the lake. “One more thing,” he said, “I’d like to retrieve my journals; two are still in the water. Will I liquefy if I go back in?”
Altemus shook his head. “It’s obviously safe today.”
Bach raised his eyebrows. “How do you know when it’s a death lake?”
“I have a way of determining the phases; or you can find out the hard way. I’ll explain later.”
Star stepped to Bach’s side. “Will your books be usable after submersion?”
“Yes. They seal hermetically when we close them, and we use a space ink and paper unaffected by water, heat, or light. I can’t leave them behind.” He headed to the lake, adding over his shoulder, “That information could help establish a link between our civilization and yours.”
While waiting for Bach to retrieve the books from the lake, Star and Altemus returned to the earthship and wrapped Faith’s body in the blanket that had covered her, then carried her outside to a nearby sand dune and prepared a resting place.
It took Bach seven dives into the hissing lake to find both journals. Emerging waterlogged, breathless, and trailing a froth of bubbles, he put the books in the pillowcase with his belongings then headed to the mound where Altemus and Star had taken Faith’s body.
Altemus poured the final container of sand on the grave.
Bach swallowed a lump in his throat and said, “Thank you for taking care of her. I didn’t want to leave her alone in the ship.”
Altemus steadied himself with a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and struggled to stand. He turned to Bach. “Your crewmate’s upper vertebrae were shattered and her spinal cord was severed at the base of the brain.”
Bach hesitated. “How could you tell?”
He pulled an instrument from his utility belt that looked like a fat ballpoint pen with a clear marble on the tip. A viewscreen ran the length. “Body scanner,” he said.
Filled with sorrow yet relieved to know Faith hadn’t died by diabolical means, Bach closed his eyes for a moment, then blurted out, “Wait, please,” and bolted to the AstroLab.
Huge strides carried him up the ramp. He grabbed Faith’s Bible and ran back to the gravesite while flipping through the dog-eared pages to find a suitable passage to read at his copilot’s wake. But he soon closed the worn leather cover and dropped his arms to his sides. “I don’t know where to look.” Head bowed, he recited the Twenty-third Psalm, “The Lord is my shepherd….” Then he kissed his fingertips and touched Faith’s grave.
Altemus and Star knelt and held hands. Star first prayed aloud, “Almighty Creator of the universe and our hope for eternal life, please save her soul,” then she drew a circle on the sandy grave with her finger. Altemus retraced it.
Trying to understand the significance of the circle, Bach stood with the Bible tucked under one arm and his hands poked into his pockets. But when he felt Faith’s cross and chain in the soft lining, his focus changed. He handed the Bible to Altemus and, without words, pulled the necklace from his pocket. Struggling to speak, he showed his rescuers the cross. “This belonged to Faith. It’s symbolic of God’s love.”
Altemus glanced at Star. He touched the cross and squinted his pale blue eyes as if trying for a better look. “God? Interesting.”
Bach stepped to Star’s side. “I want you to have it. Faith would have loved sharing it with another civilization.” He dangled the chain between his fingers and stepped behind her to drape it around her neck. While fumbling to secure the tiny clasp under her dark hair, a pleasurable, almost intoxicating fragrance emanating from her skin seemed to overpower him. He closed his eyes and pressed closer to her hair. Fresh spring rain on flowers. No, more like the mist from a rainbow, or the blossoms on an apple tree. Wanting to prolong the experience, he used clumsiness as a ruse. “Sorry,” he said, “can’t seem to secure it.”
Star’s hands slid along the chain to his. She fastened the clasp, then lifted the cross in her hand to examine it. “Fascinating.” She caressed its smooth surface, then pulled a golden chain from under the neckline of her jumpsuit. A crystal circle the color of a sunbeam hung from it. The strange circle looked electrified. Sh
e held it up for Bach to see. “This eternity symbol represents the tunnel of light where we communicate with and worship our Creator.”
Bach stared. The golden circle had the same powerful illumination as the one on her jumpsuit. Trying to understand, he replayed her words in his mind. “This eternity symbol represents the tunnel of light where we communicate with and worship our Creator.”
Star slid Faith’s cross back and forth on its chain and positioned it on top of her eternity symbol. The cross fit exactly within the open circle.
Altemus spoke up. “Time to go.”
*****
CHAPTER TEN
Inside the dragonfly rescue craft, Bach sat behind Altemus in a gel-filled jumpseat that instantly conformed to the shape of his body. He’d already overdosed on incredulity, so the weird seat and a cockpit filled with flickering lights, suspended tubes, video screens, something that looked like an empty picture frame, and voice- and touch-activated gadgetry hardly fazed him. With Star at the controls and Altemus manning surveillance, the dragonfly levitated with a gentle swish, then the wings retracted and it shot like a bullet through the dark sky.
On the ride to Dura, Bach felt like a kid wanting answers to a hundred questions but was too bewildered to ask. Everything, including conversation, moved at a pace almost too fast to grasp. But something Altemus had said a few minutes earlier stuck in his thoughts and he wanted to know more. “Altemus. You mentioned that you studied life forms on planets in other galaxies through surveillance technology. What did you think of Earth, the blue planet as you called it?”
Altemus paused before answering. “We found the technology primitive, but saw potential for advancement to a more sophisticated level with proper guidance. We tried repeatedly to make electronic contact with your communications equipment, and easily adapted to your language, but never received a response.”
Bach mulled over the information. How could these guys see details on Earth? They’d have to have something better than our interferometers. A new perspective of his rescuers came with a pang of fear, but he had to ask, “How advanced is your civilization in comparison?”
“If we measured intelligence as is done on your planet,” Altemus replied, “our results would be superior by four times.”
“Intelligence four times higher than ours?”
“Correct. But now our progress is slowed by limited resources.”
Bach nervously digested the information. These people are far smarter than genius level on Earth? He suddenly asked Altemus, “Will you tell me about the lake now?”
“You may find it confusing,” the elder replied. “The death lake has two irregular cycles. They’re identical in appearance, but opposite in consequence. At times, like now, it’s pure with antiseptic properties we depend on for periodic cleansing of ourselves from contaminants—a preventive measure. However, medicinal properties can’t heal once disease sets in. Other times it transmutes to a deadly phase, when ionized microorganisms break into lethal enzymes that feast on living matter. Death is agonizing, but swift. Eventually, the enzymes consume themselves, save a scant few, and the lake becomes pure—but only temporarily. The big boulder out there is a fusion of metals, synthetics, and other undigested matter.”
Bach thought about his time in the lake and squirmed a little. “You said you have a way to determine the deadly phases?”
“We’ll go over that later,” Altemus said.
The trip to Dura may have taken minutes, or hours, Bach couldn’t tell. He’d lost perspective of time in the presence of planet Jenesis’s scientific patriarch, and the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
During his short ride in the dragonfly, Bach got a brief look at a portion of the crater-pocked planet, but when the ship descended through a shallow mountainous region, he tried not to react to the surreal sight dead ahead of three sprawling blue-white superstructures, in a horseshoe configuration, perched on the horizon. The pentagonal-shaped buildings looked like huge crystal prisms. As the ship drew nearer, the prisms’ exteriors lit up and hundreds of spines of eye-blinding blue light flashed across the golden planet like high-intensity searchlights. “Oh, my gosh,” he whispered under his breath, trying to take it all in. “It looks like a theme park’s futureland.”
Altemus chuckled. “Lots of surprises, huh?” He didn’t wait for Bach’s answer. “The three structures are Skyprisms. They comprise the civilized area on our continent, Dura. The one on the left is the operations space center, the middle one’s for shelter and dining, and the third one’s for training and recreation. The blue lasers are surveillance and defense systems that detect emissions of airborne and land-roving craft. We use a unique fuel at Dura, so foreign spacecraft identification is easy.”
Skyprisms? Unique fuel? Bach’s thought processes pegged to the red zone.
“At one time the Skyprisms levitated above the terrain,” Altemus added, “but things here have changed.”
Nearing the space center, Star extended the dragonfly’s layered wings. The ship cut through the air without producing the slightest sensation as it powered down. From the bug-eyed windows, Bach saw that they were heading toward a holographic blue door in the operations Skyprism. But as they came in for a landing he worried that they were flying too fast and the door wouldn’t open in time. He braced for impact. When the ship slowed to a stop, he looked back toward the closed door and mumbled, “Oh, my God. We flew right through it!”
While Altemus shut down the engines and entered a code on the flight deck keyboard, Bach took in all he could from the windows. Inside the huge spaceport several utilitarian-looking spacecraft were parked in formation in the foreground, and a production area with the framework of an enormous spacecraft under construction in the distance.
The three stepped from the dragonfly, then passed through a short metal tunnel ending at an elevator-like door. Star wrote on a touchpad on the wall with her finger then leaned forward and pressed her cheek against something that looked like a blue coin. A tiny motor whirred.
“Determines DNA,” Altemus offered without elaborating.
The door slid open. From there, they rode a tubular transport car to the housing and dining Skyprism. Bach was shown to a spacious private room and left to clean up and rest.
*****
Alone and uneasy, the earthling glanced around the alien room. Deep indentations in the gray stone walls made it seem as if a battle of some kind had taken place there. He moved farther within and sized up a round bed topped with a silky coverlet that seemed woven from spun bronze. He sat on the bed and pulled off his flight shoes. Something strange near the door caught his eye. An odd-looking image of himself reflected in large mirrors that spanned ceiling to floor on both sides of the doorway. He waved his hand. The multidimensional reflection moved in slow motion. Another try came with a breath and a mutter, “Not ready to investigate that yet.”
A silvery jumpsuit, like the ones worn by Altemus and Star, hung over the back of a lounge chair to the right of the bed, and beneath it lay a pair of flexible platinum boots. A doorway beyond the chair led to what looked like a bathroom. Bach’s bare feet slid along the cold, marble-like floor as he ventured toward the room. Inside, he found an alcove on the right with a circular pool fashioned from small transparent rocks that looked like bubble packaging. A transparent toilet and sink to the left appeared to be made from acrylic material, but were soft to the touch.
On the counter, a metal tray held a hefty silver goblet filled with a clear liquid. Above the sink was another of the image-enhancing mirrors. Aha! Now I can check out these mirrors. He stood to one side and jiggled his hand in front of the sepia-toned glass. “Amazing.” He stepped in front of it and as soon as he did, his face took on a depth not bound or limited by the wall behind him. A quick turn of his head sideways then back again created a slow-moving, dimensional image where he could see from every angle until the image caught up. He gulped. “Oh, my gosh. I could watch myself comb the back of my hair.” After leaning f
orward to study his reflection, the thrill faded fast at noting his ashen skin and bloodshot eyes. “That can’t be me.” He touched his face and stared at the image. “It’s a character in a horror movie. ‘Horror movie … horror movie.’” His mirror image’s lips formed the words over and over.
Bach suddenly felt lost and alone, and dread gripped hard. He held his beard-stubbled face in both hands, wanting to scream and yell in frustration, but emotion stayed locked inside. Hunched over the sink, he talked to himself, “Where the hell am I? Friends or foes? Where’s Kaz … and Deni, Lynch, and G.R.? This is a nightmare. I’ll awaken and everything will be normal again. I’ll be home. Kaz and I will get married. But I couldn’t dream anything like this. I am somewhere on a planet called Jenesis, on the continent of Dura.” He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and sighed. “Maybe I’m dead.”
“You’re not dead,” replied a voice. A faint echo followed.
Bach snapped back and looked around. “Who’s talking to me?” He stuck his head beyond the bathroom door and scanned the main room. No one there.
The voice spoke again, “Your new life has just begun.”
He turned back, and saw in the mirror the same gauzy, yellow face he’d seen on the AstroLab. But the glass’s abnormal effects created a more disconcerting image. The anomalous apparition drifted around inside the mirror then stopped—superimposed over Bach’s reflection, appearing as if inside his head. “You’re on the wrong side now,” the copper-eyed face said. “But I’ll let you join me and your crewmates. Come away, my friend. You have yet to experience our pleasures.”
Bach sucked in an angry breath and shouted, “Damn you! I hate you for taking my crewmates. I hate this planet.” He tried to step away, but his energy seemed to drain, and there came a sensation of invisible shackles binding his legs. The silver goblet was within reach. He slammed it against the mirror, sending a spray of liquid through the air. The mirror’s reflective surface didn’t break, but ripples within gave the impression of a liquid core. The distorted apparition faded away. Heart pounding, Bach steadied himself against the sink. Waiting for his strength to return, he noticed a deep indentation in the metal goblet that wasn’t there before.
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