by Ted Blasche
Outside, the port-lights blink out. Quinn startles, fear rife in his eyes as he plucks the gem from the slot.
“—the ghosts.”
Box and crystal clatter to the marble floor.
Utterly alone, Juliette sits in silence for what seems an eternity. Slowly her form relaxes into its alien shape, a luminous mass of dancing light, a prism without hard edges, enclosed in an ethereal skin. Her castle is unchanged, candlelit, rich in detail, a sensory paradise. And devoid of all life but hers. She rises from the chaise and moves fluidly, rippling like water to the port. Outside the galaxy glimmers like diamond dust on black silk, and in the dim light of distant suns, she can make out the ragged edge of one broken ring on a dead ship.
She flows toward the data-crystal, examining it and finding what she expects, a faint crack through its center, the world inside irreparably corrupted. Two centuries ago, she discovered the interstellar ark of corpses, her own ship damaged by the same spraying debris of a white dwarf gone supernova. Phasing her command module into the holocell took mere moments, but accessing the ark’s memory, making repairs, and encapsulating the data took more than twenty-four Earthling years. She didn’t have any data-crystals large enough and improvised, using sixty teardrop crystals from the chandelier she found in the ship’s amphitheater. They serve, but far from perfectly—each works only once.
She sighs and smiles, human gestures she’s no longer free of, among other habits collected over time. She resumes her human shape, better for climbing on the chair that she drags to a spot below the chandelier. From the hearth, she retrieves the fireplace poker, and then standing on the chair’s seat, she reaches up to hook and retrieve a crystal, one of five large teardrops remaining.
With the poker returned to the hearthstone, she picks up the ivory box, relieved to find it intact. She walks to the port, and with trembling fingers, inserts the crystal in the slot. Before her eyes, the slowly rotating rings reappear, their pearls of light sweeping slowly through a dark void. With a sigh of relief, she quickly returns the box to the mantel and pours two crystal goblets of Artemisia.
The portal chimes and glides open. Outside, in the corridor, light-nodes glow softly on the tan walls and the ventilation system hums. A pair of wide-eyed crewmen in blues, gape at her with chins hanging. Between them stands a handsome young man, tall and broad-shouldered with sparkling blue eyes and a long mane of chestnut hair.
A smile crosses her lips as her heart leaps ahead. In the center of the vaulted room, in her sheer silk shift, she lifts the goblets and offers one.
The captain steps into the room and waves a hand across the sensor, the door clipping the noses of the gawking crewmen as it closes. “You’re not exactly what I expect to find when investigating a virus.” He accepts the goblet.
“I’m Juliette.”
“Captain Caspar Chevall at your service.”
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About the Author of Ghost Ship
D. Wallace Peach lives in the coastal mountain range of Oregon amid the moss and rain and giant forests. She shares a log cabin with her husband, two dogs, and Pinky the cat. For excerpts and updates on her work, or to ramble through her blog, visit her at www.mythsofthemirror.com.
Fantasy novels by D. Wallace Peach:
Myths of the Mirror
The Melding of Aeris
Sunwielder
2015 Releases:
The Bone Wall
The Sorcerer’s Garden
Dragon Soul Series
(Sequel to Myths of the Mirror)
Eye of Fire: Book One
Eye of Blind: Book Two
Eye of Sun: Book Three
Peace Treaty
By Sheron Wood McCartha
Captain John Hennessy struggled against his bonds while glaring at the smug alien who stood in front of him. At least, he suspected the straight-line gash near the mouth area and the squinting angled orbs on the upper quadrant of the triangular face reflected that state of mind. Alien body language was tricky to read at best.
Three limbs waved in the air before him, the appendages extending and contracting with apparent glee.
The Captain’s translator burped. "... have found the hidden stash of Earth weapons proving that your species is violent and not to be trusted. The Overlord will refuse to sign the treaty." The alien glowed a pale, sunshine yellow.
Hennessy closed his eyes in chagrin, thinking of the hidden ion disrupters and atomic fission fuse hidden in a bulkhead of his ship, primed and ready. Their discovery would surely destroy any chance of a trade agreement at the upcoming peace treaty between the Iilijahas and Earth.
But Hennessy played a mean game of poker and frantically cast about for a way to save the situation.
"I demand you release me!" You three-armed freak. But of course, he could not say that aloud. He shifted back and forth, testing the bonds, but nothing gave. Then he gazed about the bridge of the Intrepid, supposedly one of several benign consort ships tasked to accompany the flagship carrying the conference delegates. Unfortunately, a quick diversion on a secret spy mission, meant to map out hidden parts of the alien planet or discover any hidden weapons, had resulted in this cock-up. He laid the blame for his current predicament squarely in the lap of Admiral Townsend who had insisted that he hide the weapons on board as a preventive measure.
"Do you comprehend that if you damage or kill any member of this ship, a treaty with Earth will be forfeit?" Hennessy tossed out the threat, hoping for positive results with the gambit.
The translator sparked and fizzed. "Do you comprehend that, as a member of clan/unit Torhuath, I don't want this treaty to succeed?" Two arms crossed while a third pointed straight at him. The glow took on a burgundy hue.
Hennessy blinked. "What?" His mind raced over all the intel recently ported to him. Admiral Townsend suspected a plot to sabotage the treaty and had warned him. Hennessy's mission had been to divert to a certain sector to ascertain if hidden missiles or weapons existed there. And indeed, he had found them. However, the extra time it took to further scan and photograph the area had resulted in his ship being grabbed in a tractor beam, boarded, and subsequently captured while hovering over the suspected area.
Now his crew of three sat in the brig while he was tied up in his own captain's chair, facing a hostile alien.
The alien's arms uncrossed and flailed around. Again the translator sputtered or possibly the sound was the alien laughing at him. "You humans understand so little of us."
The creature glided over to the captain's board to study its blinking lights and array of switches and buttons. Hennessy held his breath, watching intently, as multiple arms waved far too close to critical controls. Rotating around, the alien elongated his eyes and formed a "v" in the top quadrant of its face. With a sound like a throat clearing, the alien explained, "For some ignorant reason, your Earth diplomats have picked the Secuilom clan/unit to negotiate this treaty."
Hennessey could swear the creature took on a puce color and any glow dulled out. The slashed opening at the lower quadrant of its face transformed from a straight to zigzag pattern.
"The Secuilom are on the lower rung of the Iilijahas species but plan to leap to mighty power through this treaty. They have convinced the Overlord that the treaty is good for the Iilijahas. Except, my clan/unit now holds the most power on our world, and we do not plan to relinquish that position to any lowly others this treaty might favor." The zigzag tightened inward.
Hennessy's mind spun furiously with thought. So a powerful faction did not want to relinquish their current dominant position that this treaty might challenge. How could he stop any disruption of the treaty and possible deaths of the Earth delegation? Surely, such a result would spark an Interstellar war that Earth did not need in its current fragile state. Maybe that was the alien's plan.
"Your clan/unit might become even more powerful through trade with Earth," he suggested, trying another play, though the hand felt weak.
"Snumphs! The Secuilom are f
ar too clever with words and language. They have devised a treaty that favors them over all others. They have convinced the Overlord that Earth wants peaceful trade, but I have proof the situation is otherwise."
At his signal, two underlings brought in three sturdy plastic containers and wedged them about the bridge.
Narrowing his eyes, Hennessy regarded the containers. One held training material, one held miscellaneous items for storage, but one held various Earth artifacts that he and his crew had smuggled on board. Several outer world museums had offered rich sums for the items. Gads, I'll be in trouble if the Admiral finds out I’ve been smuggling contraband.
The zigzag pattern on the alien's face smoothed out and curved up at each end. The sallow puce edged toward a pleased periwinkle blue as it regarded the boxes.
The creature is smiling at me.
At a gesture from one of the limbs, the two helpers began to tear at the boxes. One grabbed a crowbar affair and grunted as he tried to pry the top off. A hammer appeared and the other banged on one side and then on another to no avail. The boxes stayed secured. When an alien ignited a torch on his bridge, Captain Hennessey frantically leaned forward. "Wait. Untie me and I'll open them. They are handprint-secured, and only my handprints will open them.”
A buzz sounded and the ends of the bonds encircling him released. He rubbed circulation back into his hands and eyed the containers around him.
"This one first,” the alien demanded, pointing at a faded brown box. Hennessy's heart sank. The box of artifacts.
"Open it. I have been informed you have hidden weapons on board your ship." Three twining arms braced the rigid stance of the alien facing him.
Hennessy laid a palm over each template and heard a click as the top released. The alien bent over and withdrew an item, chortling with success. "A molecule disruptor. I knew it!" Two orbs in the upper quadrant angled in glee.
Hennessy studied the gun-shaped piece in the alien's appendage and could see where it might leap to such a conclusion. The dangling electric cord, however, gave away its identity.
Leaning back in his chair, Hennessy smiled. "That's a hair dryer. It's an old Earth artifact, twentieth and twenty-first century.
"An air dryer! It changes the very molecular structure of the atmosphere we breathe, squeezing out hydrogen and oxygen. An awesome weapon indeed! You would have our world gasping for breath." The alien flourished the item triumphantly, the cord swinging past Hennessy’s nose.
"No, a hair dryer. Changes human hair from wet to dry." Hennessy rubbed his thick, dark locks and grinned.
The lower quadrant orifice formed a jagged circle. Hennessy could swear he saw aversion ripple over the alien's face. Evidently, extensive human hair was not a thing the Iilijahas valued.
Dropping the item back into the box, the alien rooted around once again, retrieving another artifact. "Surely, this is a weapon. We have guards that carry laser staffs such as these used for the de-molecularization of our enemies."
Leaning forward, Hennessy squinted at the vicious looking staff. At one end, a heavy cast iron point split off into a sharp, curved hook. At first, he wasn't sure what it was, and it did look like an ancient weapon. Then he remembered the itemized list the dealer had afforded him and realized that he was looking at an antique fireplace poker.
Hennessy scratched his head. "That is just a modified stick, which long ago humans used to poke and stir fire." He gave the alien his own smug smile. "Hardly a weapon...unless you plan to bash in your enemy's head.” A wicked grin emerged. “Here, hand it to me, and I'll show you how that works."
The Iilijahas shook his head, edged back, and thumped the fireplace poker with a limb. His lower quadrant became a round circle that pursed tighter as he considered the explanation. "No laser capability?"
"Not a flash."
A noise erupted from one of the other aliens. While the captain had been explaining the artifacts, the other two had been unloading objects out of the remaining containers. Captain Hennessy peered over to see a holographic training projector. Currently, it contained discs on the Iilijahas culture that Admiral Townsend had suggested he study. The Admiral had highlighted the Torhuath clan. Swiveling around, one of the aliens grunted and pushed a button on the machine. The projector began to power up and throw out a full-sized holo right behind Hennessy's interrogator.
An ear-splitting shriek erupted from one of the helpers who promptly threw himself to the floor into a prone position, pushing air rapidly in and out of its body. "Ilyeth, Ilyeth. Ancient ancestor. Oh Revered One, I bow before you..." The other helper also emitted hysterical garble and dropped to a prone position next to his companion.
A holo of an elder Iilijahas sprung into being. The holo moved and gestured in a ghostly manner, wavering in the dim light of the bridge. Hennessy’s interrogator spun around as the line in his face’s bottom quadrant became a fully expanded circle, and the slanted eyes jumped high and round. All color drained from the creature.
The translator sputtered and screeched due to an influx of high decibel noises erupting from all three aliens mouths.
Captain Hennessy slapped the power off button, and the hologram winked away.
In a shaky voice, a Torhuath clan member whispered, "Grandfather's ghost! That was Ilyeth, great ancestor to our clan, come to bless our mission." He raised a reverent face to the others.
Captain Hennessey bent down to come face to face with the quivering beings. "Rather a warning for you to cancel an ill-fated mission."
Three terrified aliens stared at him.
"Put this stuff back where you found it. None of these boxes contains weapons that prove Earthlings are violent or treacherous. Nothing in them will convince the Overlord to stop the treaty. You tread the wrong path with this foolishness." He sat back up as the aliens lifted slowly off the floor and peered around. Small squinting circles searched for the vanished ghost.
Trying not to catch their attention, Hennessy peered across the bridge to the red, round, blinking light that indicated the ion disruptor's current state.
Still primed and ready.
The translator crackled and burped, as it warbled, "I, Trilon, of the Torhuath clan of Iilijahas, have vowed to stop this treaty.” A quick pop and the sound cleared. “If the Secuilom align with the Overlord and gain power, their first move will be to crush my people. I have been ordered not to let that happen." A fizz punctuated the translation.
The two other aliens began packing up the containers. They headed out the hatch with the boxes, clearing a path to the primed board.
Captain Hennessy played one last card. "You have no argument to present against the Earthlings. If you attack their treaty ship and kill any of their diplomats, you will start a war with them that may destroy your own clan, even your entire planet. Your species could be wiped out. Stop now before it is too late."
Swaying back and forth, Trilon cackled disagreement. "Our hidden warheads stand ready to fire at the Earth delegate's ship upon a given signal by me. However, no one will know that I activated them. My clan/unit will blame the Earthlings. All will blame this ship."
The lower quadrant curve reappeared with a sinister twist. A dusky color suffused its face.
"I will tell them otherwise,” Captain Hennessy threatened.
A flat line etched its way across the lower quadrant, and echoed its shape into two eye slits at the top. "You will be shot down for trespassing into Torhuath territory with hostile intent. You, your ship, and all your crew will be blasted out of the atmosphere. There will be no telling by you." The translator relayed the message with chillingly clarity.
The alien bent toward Hennessey’s bonds. "I must proceed before the treaty is finalized, or my mission will be in vain." One hand gestured for Hennessey to lean back while the other two fumbled with the straps.
Grasping his only opening, Captain Hennessy lurched forward to his control board. He tapped the target map, still set for the Torhuath missile base, and placed his handprint over the
activating sequence. The light went from red to green, activating the atomic fission fuse, releasing the bombs as two arms grabbed him and threw him painfully back into his captain's chair. His head cracked against the back of the chair.
"What have you done?" the translator barked and screeched.
The two departing aliens returned in a frantic stumble, weapons drawn, each shining a bright red. "What has happened?"
A deep "v" formed on the alien’s top quadrant, the lower orifice an upside down curve as it turned to press its face to the viewport.
From his vantage point, Captain Hennessey saw in the distance, large mushroom-shaped explosions rising up into the atmosphere from the planet below. He lurched forward toward the stunned alien. "Harm me and this ship explodes. I have set the ion disruptors to detonate at a given code word." He hoped his poker bluff would prove convincing.
Gasping noises emitted from a now small, round orifice. "You have wiped out my clan and home!" The alien appeared to shrivel in size, his color a pasty gray.
Sitting up straight, Captain Hennessey decided to enlighten the alien on the human species. "Yes, I have. You see, Earthlings are a peaceful people until threatened and backed into a corner. Then, I do admit, we may turn violent. If you wish your world to survive, you will let the treaty happen. Humans have more than hair dryers and fireplace pokers to fight with, although they can make profitable trading items."
The Captain smiled, his own mouth a curve of triumph.
>>><<<
About the Author of Peace Treaty
Sheron McCartha lives in The Northwest in a three-story home amid tall, stately pines. She shares her home with her tech savvy husband and two rambunctious, snowshoe cats, Beau and Bubba, who flick wall lights and explore trashcans in order to satisfy a curiosity of how the world works. Her beautiful daughter sails the world, translating for the deaf on cruise ships while exploring warm ports.