by evil wind
"I can understand that,” he said. “I liked her."
"And she has great fondness for what she calls her Celtic warrior,” Kym told him.
"Bridget would be happy to know the nun is well.” He glanced at the boxes. “Does the good Sister know what those boxes contain?"
"She does. Sejm and Acet could not have cared less about Rysalian history,” Kym said. “Once I read a few of the archives, I saw no reason to share the knowledge with either Sejm or Acet."
Cree felt a cold finger scraping down his spine. “I take it what is in the boxes pertain to me."
"To you,” she stated. “To all Reapers, including the cadets imprisoned here as well as those who were executed right after the rebellion.” She reached across the desk toward him and when he took her hand, she squeezed his fingers. “I tried to talk sense into Acet and Sejm, but they insisted on executing your bloodkin. The fever pitch was high on Rysalia Prime and the women were celebrating their freedom from the Empire. Sanity would not return to the Daughters for several weeks. If I could have saved your kin, please know that I would have. Sejm was furious the virus had no effect on the cadets."
"I bear you no blame for what happened to my kin,” he said. “I do not agree with the course the rebellion took, but I can understand the anger felt by the women."
"An anger they have begun to bitterly regret,” Kym said. “There are less than two dozen men on Rysalia Prime—including you and the cadets—and over twenty thousand women in the city alone. That doesn't take into consideration those women housed on the abandoned space stations or on the satellite moons.
They are beginning to realize what a lonely point in space this has become.” She shrugged. “They now know how the Rysalian males felt when all their women died when the retrovirus was inadvertently released."
"So what do you do now?” he asked as she released his hand and sat back in her chair.
Kym shrugged. “We do what the Empire did except this time around it will be men brought to Rysalia Prime instead of women and the men will be asked, not abducted. We are in contact with Storia which has an overabundance of men to women as well as do the Amhantareans. They both seem a hardy bunch."
"And if they don't want to come here? What then?"
A long sigh undulated from the Chrystallusian woman's lips. “Then I suppose we will have to rethink the abducting part."
"And become like the Amazeen,” he said.
"I don't believe it will come to that but we won't know until we try. Never again will we women allow this world to become a male-dominated place of slavery and despair."
Cree stared at the etched numbers on the front of the black metal boxes. “Okay, so what's in there?” he asked.
"Things you should have been told long ago,” Kym answered. “Revelations that will change your life forever, Kamerone."
The cold finger of dread scratched deeply into his spine and he fidgeted in the chair. “Why do I feel as though that change might not be for the better?"
"It is all in the perspective,” Kym said and tilted her head to one side when he laughed. “You find that amusing?"
He shook his head. “No, it's just that Dorrie said the same thing to me when I was complaining about all the women I'd suddenly inherited on the Alluvia ."
"An interesting woman is one of those,” Kym said. “I had a long talk with the Necromanian princess.
She is a most remarkable woman."
"Zainabu?” Kamerone queried. He wanted to know when Kym had spoken to the Necromani for he hadn't seen her leave the Alluvia before it was transported to the docking bay.
"She is the betrothed of Prince Lares Taborn is she not?” Kym asked. “She will Join with him when she reaches Terra."
Cree squirmed in his chair. “Actually, no, she won't.” His face took on a pained look. “He's already Joined with Beryla Dean. Legally under Terran law."
Kym's lips parted in an ‘o’ of surprise. “That doesn't bode well for Beryla,” she said. “Zainabu is a warrioress."
"Aye,” Cree said. “I'm all too aware of that. Where is she now?"
"We have a few Necromanian women here. She went to meet with them and took along the two Ionarians.” Kym frowned. “I don't care for those two."
"You spoke to them, as well?” he asked.
"Briefly,” Kym said. “Not overly bright women but then Ionarians as a whole aren't particularly intelligent beings."
"May I ask why you spoke to them?"
"Do you think I would leave your safety in unknown hands, Kamerone?” she countered. “I wanted to be sure the three of them were as committed to you and your escape as are the Amazeens and Dorrie. Oh, by the way...” She leaned back and opened a desk drawer, taking out a small leather box and placing it on the desktop. “I have already given one of these to the Necromani and had one taken to Dorrie in her cell. The Ionarians will not be leaving with you when the time comes. Because they aren't, I am having them watched closely. I want no loose lips giving away the plan. I have one each for Kahmal and her crew.” She opened the box and withdrew a thin golden chain upon which hung a small disk. She handed it to him. “Put this on and under no circumstances remove it. Hide it beneath your jumpsuit."
He looked down at the disk upon which strange symbols had been engraved. “What is it?"
"It is a locator. I will hand the codes for each locator over to Kahmal in the morning. All she will need to do is plug in those codes in her retrieval bank and no matter where any of you are on this planet you can be transported to the Alluvia without interference."
"A very handy little gadget,” he said and hooked the gold chain over his head and tucked the medal inside the front of his jumpsuit.
"Now, I am going to leave you alone with my computer for awhile,” Kym said, getting up from behind her desk. “When you have scanned the information in those two boxes—start with the lower numbered one first and read the data in order as you find it; you'll know what needs to be read and what doesn't—you can have Shei-Ling find me. It shouldn't take you more than an hour."
"Do you need to leave?"
"I don't want to be here to see your face as you read,” she said.
He frowned. “Is it that bad?"
"Bad enough, Kamerone,” she said as she came around the desk. She hesitated then bent down to plant a kiss on his forehead. “And when you've read what is in the boxes, there is somewhere I need to take you. The password is Resuello, by the way.” She spelled the word for him so there would be no mistake.
Long after Kym had left the room, Cree sat staring at the boxes. He wasn't sure he wanted to open them. In his youth, he had devoured the history and literature of Terra and the myth of Pandora's Box was uppermost in his mind. He remembered all too well how all the ills, crimes, diseases, and sorrows of mankind had flown from the box when it had been opened and he feared he was about to unleash something he could never control.
He leaned forward in his chair and slid the higher numbered box from the lower. Just touching the thing sent a faint electric shock down his arm. He knew that was nothing but his nerves playing tricks on him but nevertheless it added to his unease. He was getting a headache and he reached up to rub the pain over his right eye for a long time, staring intently at the boxes.
When at last his curiosity got the better of him, he plucked the lower numbered box from the desk and set it in his lap. His face was set, his jaw clenched, as he thumbed the lid up and looked inside, flinching as though he expected a swarm of stinging insects to flood from the interior as it had from Pandora's chest.
There were eight two inch square black computer disklettes lying in a thick foam pad, each disklette pressed into its own cushioned bed. There were two rows of the disklettes and each bore a different name. The disklette bearing Kamerone Cree's name was the second from the left on the top row. The top left label read Dr. Dearing Noah Jarl. Just staring at that name made the hairs on the back of Cree's neck stand up. His fingers hovered over the Jarl disklette for a
long time before he finally plucked it from its foam bed. Not giving himself time to balk, he got up from his chair, took the metal box with him, and sat down at Kym's computer. Placing the box beside the keyboard, he placed the disklette into its designated slot on the CPU, his hand shaking as he reached for the electronic device that controlled the coordinates of the cursor on the vid-com screen.
A bright red screen appeared on the vid-com with the word Warning! in bold red letters. Under that word was a prohibition as to who could view the file on the disklette, restricting its contents to Level 9
and Above Justices. A password box pulsed at the bottom right corner of the screen.
Cree put his hands on the keyboard, hesitated for a second or two then typed in Resuello. The first thing that popped up on the screen was an official photograph of Dr. Dearing Noah Jarl. Beneath his name were the dates of his birth and death.
There was something about the photograph of the scientist that unnerved Cree. A vague memory from his childhood stirred and left him feeling sick to his stomach, his palms oozing with sweat. His headache had intensified, the hearing in his right ear muted because of the pain. He felt cold—something totally alien to a man whose normal body temperature was extraordinarily high at all times.
The next page in the file was a short biography of Jarl: his early education, higher education, and his subsequent assignment to the Bioengineering Labs on Rysalia Prime where the main thrust of his work dealt with enhancing the physical and mental abilities of military subjects placed under his control.
Going back to the photograph page Cree knew he was looking at the man who had been responsible for his placement in the Bio lab when he was born. He stared into the long-dead eyes and felt anger wash over him in waves. The unconcerned stare from the piercing blue eyes seemed to bore right into Cree's soul. There was no compassion in that hawk like gaze, no sympathy or kindness; only a cold, calculating glint that brought a slight elevation to the right side of Jarl's thin lips so that the scientist seemed to be smirking at the vid-cam.
This was the man who had been responsible for untold pain and misery that Cree had undergone from the day he was born. Because of Jarl, he had been taken straight from his mother's dead body and placed in an incubator, kept away from all human contact. Only faceless, sexless, impersonal cybots had cared for him as an infant and those same emotionless, detached automatons had trained him as a toddler, punishing him severely, ruthlessly if he uttered one sob or even if he dared to smile. The A.I.U.s had been the only companionship he had known until he reached his fifth birthday and was turned over to the Ministry of Science. There he had undergone countless excruciating and debilitating tests that had turned his body into a mass of bruises, welts, and hives that had left him writhing in pain. One such test had nearly killed him, pitching his body into anaphylactic shock.
Cree passed a trembling hand over his damp face as he remembered the agony he had endured from the drugs the scientists had pumped into his young body. Unable to express any emotion that would help relieve his suffering, he had endured it while his soul slowly withered within him.
"Endure, boy!” one scientist had screamed at him. “Endure!"
And he had, Cree thought as he felt tears pricking his eyes. He had had no choice but to endure what they had done to him.
Moving away from the photograph of Jarl, Cree skimmed over the rest of the scientist's biography and credentials and found a photo of his laboratory staff. Scanning the faces, the Reaper recognized several of the torturers who had made his childhood a living nightmare. He advanced the file, hating the sight of those faces that had hurt him so deeply.
At the top of the next page was the word Resuello, followed by a date a few years earlier than the day on which Cree had been born. He started to bypass what appeared to be a long narrative but one word caught his immediate attention: parasite.
Something whispered to the Reaper not to go any further, to leave well enough alone. The revenant worm inside him shifted over his right kidney but the movement did not cause him the normal pain such an action usually brought. Burying his face in his sweaty hands, Cree squeezed his eyes shut and sat with his elbows on the computer desk. His breathing was ragged and his headache had become an agonizing throb pounding at his right temple. Steeling himself, he opened his eyes, lifted his head, put his hand on the mouse, and began scrolling down the page, reading every word. It was a page from Jarl's personal journal.
* * * *
As a reward for all the hard work I had been putting in with the military subjects, I was given a ten-day pass to use as I saw fit. Needing a respite from my work as well as from the nagging of my wife and the intrusion of my offspring, I took Brídín, my faithful spaniel, and headed for Meiriceá in the Aneas Quadrant. Since botany is a hobby of mine, I had long wanted to investigate the flora and fauna of the rainforests of Resuello, deep in the verdant green mountains of Meiriceá. The day was overcast—as are most of the days in that humid part of the planet. A light rain was falling but it was not enough to prevent me from venturing out to collect specimens that intrigued me. Brídín was romping ahead of me—chasing brilliantly hued butterflies and flushing vibrantly-colored birds from their nests. The canine was having as much fun among the lush greenness as was I. Unfortunately, that fun was to end tragically for Brídín.
I remember seeing the canine sniffing the plant. It was a fern-like growth, low to the ground, with several spiky stalks jutting up from the center of spiky, serrated-edged fronds. Upon each stalk was a large round seedpod with what resembled a small crown sitting atop the pale green pod. I distinctly recall thinking at the time the stalk and pod looked like a king's royal scepter. I made a mental note to investigate the pods later and continued on with what I was studying. As I gathered a unique orchid for my collection, Brídín began sneezing violently. I turned to see a cloud of what I realized must be spores drifting up from the plant the canine had been sniffing. Brídín was inhaling the spores and with every breath he took, the sneezing became more prolonged and violent. Calling him away from the plant, I saw he was bleeding from the eyes and nostrils. I picked him up and hurried back to the shuttle, hoping what he had inhaled was not deadly. Racing back to Rysalia Prime, I realized my hopes were to be cruelly dashed and in a way no mortal man could have envisioned.
Let me state here that at no time was there a danger to anyone other than me. What Brídín had inhaled in the rainforest had not entered my respiratory tract and when I arrived back on Rysalia Prime, I transported the canine and myself directly to my laboratory and commenced to lock down all entry to it.
Placing Brídín in a secure environment, I stripped down and entered the decontamination chamber to be on the safe side. Nothing suspicious appeared on the scans of my body and clothing so I felt some relief though I was worried sick about my pet.
Brídín was roaming around his secure environment as though drugged and my heart was breaking as I watched him. He ran into the walls, fell down, and had difficulty scrambling to his feet again. His eyes and nostrils had ceased to bleed but he was hassling as though he was either in great pain or was overheated.
A scan of the canine's internal organs revealed a shocking discovery. The unknown spores had invaded his bloodstream and were multiplying at a rapid rate. It became obvious to me the spores were of a virulent variety and the inhalation of them by humanoids might have devastating consequences. In my wildest nightmares I could not have imagined just how disturbing those consequences would become.
Later that night, Brídín began to change before my very eyes. He started to convulse, falling to his side, howling in agony, his paws flailing in the air. His bones began to crack, to elongate, his flesh turning to a leathery consistency, and his canine shape evolving into that more of a lupine creature. What had once been a very tame, gentle animal became a ravaging beast with glowing red eyes, sharp claws, and even sharper fangs that tried savagely to get out through the bars of the secure environment. I had no doubt had Br�
�dín been able to break free of his enclosure he would have attacked me without fail. I sat by his cage with my face in my hands, crying so hard I developed a brutal headache.
Feeling great remorse at what had become of my beloved pet, I knew the best thing to do was to put Brídín out of his misery. Taking up my laser rifle, I shot him, crying the entire time I attempted to put him down. But the canine did not die. Seven times I shot him at close range but I could not kill the beast. I did manage to knock him out with a high-powered narcotic dart and as he lay unconscious I made the most devastating decision of my life. I decided to spray him with a quick-acting combustible and set fire to it. I was in agony as I was forced to end my pet's life. I sat by his cage until his body was nothing but a charred husk.
But Brídín—at least a part of my beloved Brídín—was still not dead. From out of the smoldering carcass of the canine something crawled and lay there slithering on the floor.
Stunned, I jumped up and grabbed my laser rifle, intent on killing this strange creature that had been inside Brídín. I lifted the weapon to my shoulder but something stayed my hand. I lowered the rifle, took up a large beaker, entered the cage, and using the rifle barrel scooped the thing inside. A part of me wanted to know what this thing was that had caused my pet's agony and how it had changed him to a ravaging beast.
Note: I would later discover the highly toxic spores that had infected Brídín were from a strange fungus that grew upon those seedpods on Resuello and not from the pods themselves as I originally thought. I later went back to Resuello and harvested several of the plants that had started it all. I could not identify the fungus growing on the plants; it was unlike anything I'd ever come across. This fungus—like all fungi—reproduced by scattering thousands of spores. Upon each spore, there was a strange microscopic growth and it was this growth that had infected Brídín and that had grown to maturity inside him. I gave the plant a name: lycant and have since issued warnings that this plant is deadly and have advised Fleet Command to eradicate all traces of it.