“What is the alternative, father?”
Hek’Dara drew in a deep dreadful breath and on release, said, “When can your security force be here?”
The Exploration Ship Requiem – Travelling in Wormhole Space
One jump away from Kepler 369
April 20, 2442
Charles Long sat at a stretched dinner table on the main deck of Requiem with twenty other people that included flight officers and members of the Tannador family who traveled onboard ship. Charles held in a gut wrenched laugh while he listened to the conversation around the table. It didn’t take him long to figure out that most of the passengers didn’t take the journey because exploration excited them, but because traveling in space was the fashionable thing to do.
“Showers once every other day… once, it’s appalling,” a pale-skinned man said with distain in his throat. “My skin becomes so dry if I can’t wash more than twice a day.”
“I never imagined the tennis courts would be on the level above the slave quarters. It’s bad enough I have to pass them in the elevators, but to see them so often,” an athletic woman with silver hair said.
A ridged man with hawk-like features leaned away from Charles, but said in a loud whisper, “Yes it’s bad enough we have to sit at the same dinner table of a low-born. If I knew it would be so unaccommodating I would have told Uncle Hek’Dara I’d stay on Earth.”
Charles straightened himself in his chair and arranged his dinner jacket. He realized how out of place he looked, stuffed like a turkey inside his old dress clothes outdated by a hundred years. He took a whiff of his jacket sleeve. His clothes carried the same musty odor as the bottom of his dresser cabinet.
Da’Mira reached over and touched him by his wrist and smiled.
He returned her gaze. Had he misjudged her?
Relaxed he sat back letting his shoulders slump. He surveyed the dining area. On the raised platform, near the dinner table, Charles saw the flight crew of the Requiem at their controls. He heard commands given, orders confirmed and every once in a while, he saw a crewman glance in his direction. Their looks made him uneasy. Charles looked away ashamed. He waited to be served while they toiled away at their stations and he sat with people he’d never have associated with under normal circumstances.
He glanced up, his attention drawn to the transparent dome above him and the wonders outside the ship. He felt inconsequential next to the endless swirls of colors and blazing light from the wormhole. They frightened and humbled him, and reminded him of a late twenty-second century poet, Jason Radik, that best described what he saw.
How fragile is man, no suffering, no pain, no endless night can compare to the cascade of light and eternity. Words written for the pilots of the first wormhole test ships lost in their attempt to travel into manmade wormholes.
How simple we are, Charles thought, and he drew his attention to the meal placed before him. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate real food. His pallet had become bland, a product from the tasteless food disks.
Lamb was served with a lemon caper sauce. Charles didn’t mind the gamey tang from the fresh meat and he asked for seconds and decided a third plate might be too much. Even the soil flavor of root vegetables overpowered his taste buds, but he didn’t mind. After several glasses of wine, he didn’t care what he ate.
Charles noticed stares from the other guests and although he couldn’t hear what they said, their whispers were directed toward him. He looked away, feeling out of place, unimportant.
After a full stomach and too much wine, Charles was talkative near the end of the night, though many at the table didn’t speak to him, except Captain Kevka, who wore his pressed dress uniform and looked like a dignitary. He and the captain had little in common, though Kevka’s childhood mirrored his. The captain spoke of Ioshia station and the Arvon Eclipse, a haven for smugglers that avoided detection in its dangerous orbit, just inside the upper atmosphere. Charles and Kevka knew too many of the same people, for them not to grow up in a similar lifestyle. Charles wondered why their paths hadn’t crossed before.
Fascinated that Da’Mira Tannador took interest in his work, Charles forgot about Kevka and leaned in toward her. She wore a long tight-fitted dress made of synthetic rogga jewels that sparkled and adhered to every part of her body, transfixed to her robust shape. The artificial radiant jewels absorbed her new yellow skin dye and reflected its color – she sparkled. A ringlet of copper bands spiraled up her left arm like a snake. They matched the tiny hoops that coiled through her earlobes. He’d never met a woman so beautiful.
Charles and Da’Mira whiled away the time, he explained his studies, and she listened attentively. In the back of his head Charles told himself to shut up but he spouted more and more information. In all his years he worked on Requiem he’d never talked to anyone in real authority besides Kevka. The master of the ship never came to him, let alone invited him to dinner.
After midnight the dinner party concluded. William Kevka saluted Da’Mira with his hand, palm down across his chest before he dismissed himself. The other guests bid their farewells as well, but ignored Charles, or gave him an eschewed glance or sneer. Charles would tilt his head. He refused to stoop to their level.
“I must apologize for my guests’ behavior.”
Charles pushed himself away from the table. “You mustn’t apologize for the actions of others, Milady.”
Da’Mira offered an apologetic smile and said, “Still, I asked them to do something they aren’t used to doing. Many people of high rank never speak to their servants, let alone dine with them.”
“It was a first for me as well. I rarely leave my chambers below unless I’m going planet side. I find my associates and relics more to my liking if you’ll forgive me for saying so.” Charles stood and tossed his napkin to his seat.
Da’Mira looked at him, her eyebrow raised. “Are you going somewhere?” she asked.
“It’s late. I have much to do tomorrow and I assumed you’d be retiring to your chambers.”
“You assumed wrong, professor. Please sit down, you were telling me the most interesting of things before the party ended. I wish for you to continue.”
Charles found it anomalous that a high-born seemed interested in dig sites and old relics. He didn’t even know where to begin. How could he instruct a noble like Da’Mira? Charles did not know what her formal education was. Most elite educated in business, amass of more acquisitions. The dirty work went to someone like him.
“You seem tense around me, Professor Long, I assure you, you don’t have to be,” Da’Mira said. Her eyes glistened, and her lips curled into a thin smile.
Da’Mira’s peaceful stare calmed him, and Charles said honestly, “Forgive me, Lady Tannador. I’m relaxed in dirty digs sites, my body covered in mud, more than a setting like this.”
“What can I do to make you more relaxed around me Professor?” Da’Mira asked. Her eyes brightened, and she said with the hint of a chuckle, “Would you like to fire Requiem’s rail guns at some space debris?”
Charles cocked a smile and replied, “Those guns haven’t been fired in a long time, Milady. I doubt they would even work. I know they’re on board to clear space debris away from the ship if need be. But there hasn’t been need of them – not as long as I’ve been on board.”
Da’Mira nodded. “I’m just trying to get you out of your shell, Professor. I wish to learn anything you wish to teach me.”
“For a moment there I thought you were giving me a chance to blow the hell out of space junk,” Charles said with a smile, hinged on a laugh.
“There – see I got you to relax. And who knows, I might just let you fire those guns sooner or later. Please sit back down.”
“Are you sure you want to hear what I have to say about my job. It might bore you to death, Milady,” Charles said. He popped the buttons from his dinner jacket, picked up the napkin and lowered himself back into the chair.
“Not at all. I want to know all I can b
efore we make planet fall. I intend on accompanying you and your team to the surface.”
“You said something about that before,” Charles said. The lines of his mouth hardened.
“You don’t like that idea?”
“To be honest I’d never been on an excavation with a high-born before. The master of the ship comes down after we have found and catalogued anything of importance. Your inventiveness is unsettling.”
Da’Mira smiled, replied, “Yes, sometimes I can be unsettling… You don’t have to accept me professor, but nonetheless, I will go down to the planet with you.”
Charles heard Da’Mira’s stubbornness and knew she wasn’t the person that liked to be told no. He couldn’t think of any high-born that did. Charles swallowed hard and leaned in toward Da’Mira, said, “I’ll take you down to the planet with me, Milady. But let’s make one thing clear. I’m not going down there just for you. My partner and my closest friend is down on that planet somewhere and I mean to find him… if he isn’t already dead. I’m afraid our recall to Earth might have sealed his fate. But I won’t give up hope. I intend to find him, and I’ll be damned if I do anything else before that.” A thin layer of sweat covered Charles’ face. He swallowed in a dry throat. He’d never spoke to a high-born in such a manner before and he blamed it on the wine. Da’Mira gave him an emotionless stare, but he didn’t regret his frankness.
“I wish I had loyalty like that in a friend.”
Charles looked at her dumbfounded. “What would you like for me to show you, Milady?”
Charles led Da’Mira into his private chamber. The lights in the tiny cramped quarters flickered to life. Unlike his laboratory, Charles’ living space was neat and organized.
“I’m impressed, I thought – well I thought…”
“It would be a junk pile?”
“Something like that,” she said. She took time studying the objects on his desk. Da’Mira pointed at a model ship on a shelf. “What’s this?” She reached out for it but withdrew her hand when Charles pushed ahead and took it off the shelf.
“This is a replica of the Cosmos, the first wormhole test ship lost with its crew of twenty-five, two hundred years ago. I’ve studied its mythology since I was a kid.”
Da’Mira cracked a thin smile, and said, “You’re one of the believers then?”
“That the ship wasn’t destroyed?”
“And it traveled in time,” Da’Mira said. She bit her lower lip.
“Time travel is an almost proven theory you know.” Charles chagrined and sat the model carefully back on the shelf. “You of all people should find the history of the Cosmos interesting.”
“Why – because my ancestor piloted the ship?” Da’Mira rolled her eyes.
“Rachel Tannador, captain and pilot of the ship… you know what her last words were before they lost contact with the Cosmos?”
Da’Mira shook her head no, and Charles saw in her expression that she didn’t care. He told her anyway. “Seconds before the communication went silent, Captain Tannador said, “It’s incredible… infinity is a mirror.”
Da’Mira’s eyebrows rose. And she said in a guffaw, “That could mean anything. How do we know what she meant so close to death?”
Dismissive of her comment, Charles said, “Anyway, this is why I brought you here.” A large holo-screen dominated an entire wall. It flashed alive when Charles waved his hand in front of the screen.
In all the years of his research, he never once told a high-born what they had found on their excavations. Da’Mira seemed different. Against his better judgment he decided to share his research.
Different categories popped up on the screen. Charles selected a file labeled planets – it opened and revealed a list of subcategories and names of the visited worlds. “Requiem has surveyed nineteen planets in the last twenty years. I have been on fifteen of those digs. On all the worlds, we have found remains of civilizations dating back a million years or more. On each of them, no matter the culture or the evolutionary process they all ended around the same time.”
With a stolid stare Da’Mira asked, “How can you be so sure?”
Charles opened a sub-file to reveal more pictures of lost civilizations. He waved his hand, shuffled through the photographs of desolate barren worlds, and said, “Carbon dating taken at the sights show each planet ended around ten-thousand years ago. Some of the planets like Kepler 141 were destroyed leaving us to believe there had been a great war. All the worlds were involved in the war or they were destroyed because of the conflict. Whatever the cause, on no world have we found life.”
Da’Mira asked, “These worlds are connected?”
Charles closed the file and opened another folder marked symbols. He selected a picture of the Z symbol. It expanded on the holo-screen. He walked around the 3D image and sounding as if he was teaching a class, said, “On all the worlds, no matter how ancient or contemporary, this symbol has appeared on them all.” He saw the slack-jawed look on Da’Mira’s face. “Have you seen this symbol before, Milady?”
“No.”
Charles could hear the less than honest sound in her voice. He cleared his throat and continued, “Recently my colleagues and I discovered the symbol to be part of a religion, which would be highly unprecedented since there is evidence to prove some of these cultures never knew of other worlds, let alone space travel.”
“Then how can that be possible?”
“That’s the missing link. If we could find a reason behind this symbol we would open up the entire history of the planets we’ve visited.”
“You seem apprehensive.”
Charles snapped his fingers and the holo-screen blinked off. He flopped in a chair and relaxed. His features thinned, he said, “With every planet, we get one step closer to the truth. I’m just afraid the truth might be something that’s better off left alone.”
Da’Mira sat in another chair. She folded her hands in front of her and said, “You don’t sound like an archeologist. I thought your field of expertise was finding the truth.”
“We don’t know what we’re dealing with. Vincent is fond of saying, ‘Truth must not be confused with your beliefs’.”
Da’Mira’s eyes narrowed and she asked, “Then, what are your beliefs?”
Charles’ voice darkened, and he said, “I believe that sooner or later the truth will catch up. And none of us are prepared for what’s out there, that’s what scares the hell out of me.”
Charles sat alone in his office staring at the cask after Da’Mira departed. He stared at the engraved symbols. His eyes heavy, like little weights hung on his eyelids, he struggled to keep awake. It’d been days since he had a decent night’s sleep and the wine he consumed at dinner didn’t help. He became delusional and slipped in and out of consciousness. The alien symbols from the cask twirled around in his head. Charles saw and heard the oddest things as he dropped in and out of consciousness. The casket images became stacked on top of one another like a child’s building blocks and the symbols oddly made sense.
Charles jerked his head, and he woke. Adrenaline coursed through him and he found himself wide awake. He looked at the box, shifted it on his desk and ran his callous fingers over the letters. He grabbed an electronic note pad and scribbled the symbols. Some made sense while others remained a mystery. He formed a basis and connected some of the cryptogram to Earth’s alphabet. He arranged and rearranged the letters until he wrote them in the only possible order. U–K–L–A–V–A–R
He stared at them for a moment saying the word in his head over and over again. He spoke the word aloud, “Uklavar.”
A hushed whisper came from the casket and repeated him, “Uklavar.”
Charles shoved the casket back and leapt to his feet. He stared at the box, his heart tightened. He let out a dismissive laugh and rubbed his hand over his face, saying, “No… that’s impossible,” he said. The wine from dinner must have affected me more than I thought. He drug his hand through his hair. “No more alcohol t
his late at night,” he said. He grabbed the casket and placed it inside his desk. He hoped a good night’s sleep and clear thoughts would allow him to see reason. Either that, or things were becoming more complicated.
Watchtower – High Earth Orbit
The ORACLE Mainframe
April 21, 2442
The mainframe ORACLE system took up a third of the watchtower. The self-regenerating, self-thinking computer maintained its own repairs. While it scanned low-born platforms, shuttles, cargo vessels, slaves and anything not associated with the high-born or their property. It’s what people believed, but it was far from the truth.
ORACLE analyzed and passed on security reports to its human benefactors, who processed the information and categorized it for further investigation and exploitation. Sentient, ORACLE’s creators denied it the ability to spy on or harm anyone in the Lexor family. The architects also limited its capacity to outgrow its programming by a special processor fitted in ORACLE’s memory engrams. A protected nullifier existed inside its matrix. Held by a force field that changed a hundred-million different combinations and reset itself every tenth of a second, it disabled ORACLE to gain access while focusing on its initial programming.
Built fifteen generations ago, Roderick Lexor understood the need to allow ORACLE freedom enough to understand what it scanned while refusing it to act on the information it gathered. Roderick believed that his computer watcheye should be limited. Little did he know however, that without the potential to evolve, its internal systems would weaken and corrode. Like Iris Lexor, ORACLE neared the end of its life.
The outlandish plan came when Iris gave the order to her scientific team to repair ORACLE without allowing it full access to its potential. The answer came from a dubious source. Iris accepted her limitations. Before long, her bionic heart would fail. She prepared herself for death until approached by Doctor Ragan Odak.
The unorthodox procedure gave Iris hope again, hope for life and hope ORACLE would continue. At her age, she decided it couldn’t hurt to try. Merging her memories, her life lessons and her essence with the computer would ensure that she would continue to run the family and be in total control of the watcheye. A combined collection of knowledge between Iris’ understanding of human nature and ORACLE’s endless data would give the Watchtower a power it never had.
Origin Expedition Page 21