Peacekeeper- God Complex

by Doug Farren

  Tom appeared next to Lashpa and tilted his head. Kirth and Shava flashed out, gently flicking his neck. Since Terrans lacked a long tongue, he returned the greeting by swiping his fingers along Shava’s neck then touching them to the tip of his tongue. He repeated the procedure with Kirth.

  “Very enjoyable,” Kirth replied. “You did not have to fly us here first-class.”

  “Only the best for my grakch’s family,” Tom replied. Looking around, he added, “Speaking of family, where’s everyone else?”

  “We are the only two who could take the time to make the trip on such short notice,” Kirth replied.

  “That’s too bad,” Tom admitted. “I was looking forward to seeing Heshgerv again.”

  “She and her mate are expected to arrive late tomorrow afternoon,” Shava said. Looking at Tom, she added, “Are you sure you will be okay in this gravity field?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Tom replied. “The gravity here is only a little more than what it was on Fanish. My cybernetics will compensate and I’ll be spending the nights in my ship.”

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Kirth said. “We haven’t quite adjusted to local time and it’s a few hours past when we are used to eating. We’ve found a restaurant we’d like to try but wanted to see you first.” Looking at Tom, he added, “We couldn’t find a place that serves Terran food, but they do have a large variety of plant foods and pastries.”

  Tom was acutely aware of the subtle hint behind Kirth’s statement. Rouldians tended to eat most of their food uncooked—the fresher the better. When they did cook their food, it was often done in a manner that created a dish most Terrans would have a hard time looking at much less eating. Kirth was aware of this and was giving Tom the opportunity to gracefully decline their invitation.

  “I would be happy to join you for dinner,” Tom replied, smiling.

  “I’ve been craving a freshly prepared Rouldian meal for weeks,” Lashpa said. “Let’s go!”

  Kirth turned and began walking towards a low, flat vehicle parked not far away. “We rented a four-passenger car. Tom, I hope you don’t mind sitting in a Rouldian chair.”

  “I’m not expecting to find any Terran furniture or comforts while I’m here,” Tom replied. “This gravity is enough to discourage even the hardiest Terrans. Please, don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

  The automated six-wheeled car was built to accommodate the Rouldian physique with wide doors and padded, curved benches that served Lashpa’s race as chairs. Krish gave the vehicle their destination while they settled into their seats.

  “So, what have you two been doing while you were waiting for us?” Tom asked, sitting down on one of the benches.

  “We weren’t sure when you would be arriving, so we’ve been spending a lot of time exploring the area around the starport,” Kirth replied. “We were afraid we might miss you if we strayed too far.”

  “We spent all day yesterday walking around the space museum,” Shava added. “They have some of our earliest rockets on display. I didn’t realize how big they were until I saw one up close.”

  “I can imagine,” Tom said. “I’ve visited the old NASA launch site on Earth. I saw a working version of the rocket that took Terrans to the moon the first time. It’s gigantic. With a gravity of almost twice Earth’s, your people probably needed a rocket at least that big just to put a satellite into orbit.”

  “You used a single rocket to take you to your planet’s satellite?” Kirth asked.

  “It was a behemoth,” Tom replied. “It was launched as a single rocket and discarded sections as it achieved orbit.”

  “We could never have done that,” Kirth replied. “Our first manned mission to Muth, Roulda’s closest satellite, was accomplished with four launches and an orbital assembly of the vehicle.”

  They were approaching the edge of Glurshvy, Roulda’s capital. Tom could see an assortment of low, squat vehicles moving along the lightly traveled highway. Glancing up through the transparent roof, he could see several types of aircraft making their way through the clear blue sky.

  “Is today a normal workday?” he asked.

  “It is,” Shava replied. “Why?”

  “There isn’t much traffic. Even with the near total automation of travel, Terran cities are notorious for their traffic jams—especially in the larger cities.”

  “It’s because most Terrans prefer to live in small containers stacked on top of one another in crowded cities,” Lashpa replied.

  “Don’t be so quick to judge Terrans,” Kirth said. “We haven’t always had such a respect for nature. There was a time when Glurshvy might have resembled a Terran city.”

  “What changed?” Tom asked.

  “Our scientists began seeing evidence that our rush towards industrialization was having a negative impact on our planet. Our climate was changing and the way we were stripping the planet of its resources was proven to be unsustainable. Even though the various nations on our world back then had their disagreements, they all agreed that it was in their best interest to work together to change what we were doing to our planet. Our disagreements wouldn’t matter if we became extinct at our own hands.”

  “Earth faced the same issue over a century ago,” Tom replied. “We didn’t handle the evidence quite so well until it almost became too late. The disagreements over climate change and how we were rendering our planet uninhabitable was even the cause of several wars. Earth is still trying to recover.”

  “When we realized what was happening, our governments began fostering a closer connection with Nature,” Kirth said. “We still build cities to conduct business and commerce, but now they’re designed to exist in harmony with Nature as best as possible. Our homes are places of tranquility and are designed to keep us connected with Nature. Do you remember our house on Fanish?”

  “I do,” Tom replied, recalling the memory of his visit to Lashpa’s home planet.

  Turning to his mate, Kirth said, “Dear, would you mind telling Tom about our floor.”

  “I had the seeds imported from Roulda,” Shava replied, pride in her accomplishment tempering her voice. “It took me months to grow it to the proper length and consistency. We have one of the best floors in our neighborhood.”

  Tom’s jaw dropped. “I thought it was artificial!” he finally managed to say.

  “I was shocked when I left Fanish,” Lashpa said. “Terrans, Shandarians, Tholtarans, and even the Omel all seem obsessed with finding ways to keep Nature out of their lives. It bothered me for a long time while I was at the academy.”

  “That’s why you liked to spend all your free time in the park,” Tom said. “Why have you never told me this?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess it never came up since we declared gragrakch. I’m used to it now.”

  Tom had the distinct feeling this was something that had bothered Lashpa for a long time and made a mental note to discuss it with her when they had more privacy.

  Turning to his daughter, Krish said, “Tell me more about this promotion you two received. Do you think you’ve been asked to work together because you are gragrakch or do all peacekeepers work in pairs?”

  “Peacekeepers normally work alone or in close cooperation with local authorities,” Lashpa replied. “The condition placed upon our promotion to class-III status was the result of a recommendation made by our ship’s computers.” Tapping the armor surrounding her head, she continued. “They have access to our deep brainwave patterns and have been conducting research into the deeper meaning of gragrakch.”

  The car had come to a stop while Lashpa was talking. Getting up, Kirth announced, “We’ve arrived. Let’s get something to eat.”

  Tom’s presence at the restaurant created quite a stir with the staff. None had ever seen a Terran and only one knew anything about Terran eating habits. Moments after they were seated at a table in the corner of the room, the manager arrived, his tail sticking up and vibrating with concern.

  “It is an hono
r to have a Terran visit our restaurant,” the manager said, after introducing himself. “I must apologize for our lack of Terran cuisine. Had I known you would be- - -”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” Tom interrupted, even though it was considered rude.

  The manager dipped his head for a moment, then said, “If you like, I would be happy to have my staff alter any of our meals to make it more palatable for you.”

  The AI in Tom’s ship—the Orion—had already pulled up the restaurant’s menu and performed an analysis of its contents. Using Tom’s biolink, a complex web of electronics built into the underside of the armored helmet that served as his skull, the AI informed him there were several items he would be able to eat.

  “That will not be necessary,” Tom replied. “I will have a glass of hurifoon, an order of braunich, and a side of mixed vegetables, all plain please.”

  “Excellent!” The manager replied, his tail shooting into the air with pride. “I shall personally deliver your order to the kitchen.” Looking at the others, he asked, “And what would everyone else like?”

  After the others had placed their orders, Kirth said, “Earlier, you mentioned that your ships were researching gragrakch. I would like to know more about the nature of this research.”

  “The biolink can monitor our deep brainwave patterns,” Lashpa replied. “Both our ships have identified a subtle shift in our brainwaves that seem to indicate our belief in chuloogranack, two bodies—one soul, might be provable.”

  “This is exciting news!” Krish said.

  “Have you discussed this with the Department of Genealogical Archives?” Shava asked.

  “The research is far from conclusive at this point,” Lashpa replied. “Our ships have asked us not to share this discovery until they have had a chance to gather more data.”

  “How long has this research been going on?” Kirth asked.

  “A little over a year,” Tom replied. “I can’t wait to find out the results.”

  A server arrived with their drinks and appetizers. After setting them on the table, he turned to Tom. “May I ask a personal question?”

  “Of course.”

  “There is a difference of opinion among the staff. They want to know if you are a peacekeeper or if you’re wearing an external suit to compensate for our higher gravity.”

  “I’m a peacekeeper,” Tom replied, smiling.

  “How are things back on Fanish?” Lashpa asked as the server turned to leave.

  The family updates continued. The guests were served, their meals consumed, and the traditional after-dinner treats and drinks were enjoyed. Despite being the only Terran in the entire restaurant, Tom felt at home. The conversation and warm feelings continued until he was dropped off at his ship. Even though he was a cyborg, the high gravity still had an effect on his internal organs and it was a relief to be back aboard the Orion where the gravity was maintained at a more tolerable level.

  Lashpa, on the other hand, was happy to be able to spend the night in a luxurious hotel room with real grass flooring. Tomorrow, they would be taking a tour of the countryside. She was looking forward to seeing the planet her people called home; a planet she had never set foot on until today.

  Chapter 3

  “I have established a link with the satellite network,” the comm-station reported. “Uploading stored data.”

  “Thank you,” Captain Harth replied. “Helm, hold the fleet’s position at 40,000 kilometers.”

  “Yes sir,” the helm replied.

  The fleet of five Rouldian warships—three battleships and a heavy cruiser all under the command of Admiral Shurvith aboard the dreadnought Tharveth—slowed until they were dead in space at the prescribed distance from L103-021. Captain Harth tapped a few commands into his console causing his central screen to display the status of the data upload as well as all available images of the grounded Chroniech battleship that had so far been received.

  Admiral Shurvith looked over the Captain’s shoulder. “Computer, keep the latest image of the Chroniech ship on the display at all times.”

  A few seconds later, the image shifted slightly as a newer one was downloaded from the satellites. Captain Harth touched the screen and said, “Enhance and enlarge.”

  The computer instantly responded. “Look at that!” the Captain said, glancing up at the Admiral. “The ship is being dismantled.”

  The enlarged image of the aft end of the massive vessel clearly showed where large sections of the outer hull plating had been removed, exposing the interior of the ship. Dozens of small drones could be seen around the ship, some of them carrying away pieces of hull plating and internal components.

  “Increase magnification,” Captain Harth said.

  More details became visible. Admiral Shurvith pointed to an area where the exterior of the ship had been removed. “Look here. There’s nothing left inside except the supporting frame. It must have been gutted before being exposed to the elements.”

  “That means this ship has been here for a while,” the Captain said.

  Raising his voice slightly, Admiral Shurvith asked, “Do we have control of the probes yet?”

  “We do,” the comm-station replied. “All remaining probes have reported in and are in good condition.”

  “Assign two to follow one of those drones in a staggered pattern. Keep them at an altitude of at least 1,000 meters. I want to know where they’re based.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Captain Harth’s tail was in a constant state of motion. “How did that ship manage to get to the surface without breaking into a hundred pieces?” he asked.

  “Even though we can’t see it, it had to have sustained heavy damage,” the Admiral replied. “The entire bottom half of that vessel is probably crushed flat.”

  “At least we know what happened to the ship the Komodo Dragon lost track of a year ago,” the Captain replied.

  “We can’t be sure this is the same ship,” Admiral Shurvith pointed out. “It’s the same class, but we have no way of positively identifying it.”

  Raising his voice, the Captain said, “Tactical, any sign of an advanced installation anywhere on the planet?”

  “No sir. The computer has been going through the data uploaded from the Vartha’oon’s probes and has found nothing indicating where those drones originate.”

  “Why not?” Admiral Shurvith asked. “Survey probes are modified military probes. They should have no problem tracking those drones.”

  “The probes were left in surveillance mode,” tactical replied. “They’ve been mapping the surface, tracking weather patterns, and analyzing the composition of the atmosphere. Tracking drones is not part of their civilian programming.”

  “Do you suppose the crew are still alive?” the Captain asked.

  “I don’t know. Even if their ship had been damaged, the Chroniech would never have set it down on the surface. That ship was captured.”

  “What kind of technology can capture an undamaged Chroniech warship and yet remain undetectable from our scans?” Captain Harth wondered.

  “Whatever it is,” the Admiral replied, “it’s not something to trifle with. We must proceed with the utmost caution. Comms, are you detecting any signals?”

  “No sir. All bands are clear.”

  “Begin transmitting a standard first contact series on multiple frequencies. Inform me if you receive a reply.” Turning to the closest of the four science stations, the Admiral said, “Activate another survey probe and bring it down to 500 meters at a distance of five kilometers from the grounded warship. I want to get a closer look at those drones and what they’re doing.”

  “Yes sir,” the operator manning the station replied.

  Addressing the Captain, the Admiral said, “It’s obvious the Chroniech warship is no longer a threat. But whatever brought it down most certainly could be. Knowing the Chroniech, they probably provoked them. We’re not going to make that same mistake.”

  “I agree, sir.”
>
  A few minutes later, science station one reported that the survey probe had reached its designated position. The Admiral walked over to the station. “Maintain current altitude and slowly bring the probe closer to the warship. Keep a close eye on the drones. If one of them heads toward the probe, hold position.”

  The image transmitted from the survey probe’s camera showed that the probe had begun moving. Even though it was near dawn, the probe’s sensitive camera made it look as if the sun was shining. Below was a vast expanse of green, a magnificent forest of densely packed trees. Off in the distance, a snow-covered mountaintop could be seen.

  “It’s a beautiful planet,” Captain Harth remarked. He had remained in his captain’s chair and had slaved several of his monitors to those of the science station’s.

  “It is indeed,” Admiral Shurvith replied.

  “Three thousand meters,” the science operator provided an update.

  The forest below abruptly came to an end as the probe crossed over a wide river. On the other side was an open field. The grounded warship could be seen off in the distance.

  “Two thousand meters.”

  An alert tone on the tactical station created a flurry of reports. “Captain! We’ve lost contact with the lead probe following one of the drones. The trailing probe picked up a short but very intense EM burst the moment contact was lost; possible weapons fire.”

  “Bring the second probe to a stop,” Captain Harth ordered. “Did our sensors pick up anything?”

  “Nothing sir. The probe is over the horizon from our current position.”

  “Captain, one of the drones is approaching,” science station one reported. “I’ve halted forward movement.”

  “Hold your position,” Admiral Shurvith reinforced his earlier order. “Let’s see what it does.”

  The drone rapidly approached the hovering probe, slowed, and came to a stop at a distance of a little over ten meters.

  “Zoom in,” the Admiral ordered. “Let’s get a good look at it.”

  Data appeared on one of the screens as the probe’s computer analyzed the object blocking its path. The drone was a machine measuring a little over four meters long, one and half meters wide, and a meter thick. Four large manipulators could be seen folded against the undercarriage and at least ten smaller appendages attached to various places around the open frame.