Eesh stayed close to Iris when she walked slow and weak into the mainframe center, the heart of the watcheye. Her servant kept one hand near her at all times. He begged her to allow him to help, but Iris refused to be handled like a child. So Eesh stayed close.
Iris wore a white one piece lose-fitting suit. Her bald head caught a glare off the ceiling lights. In the center of the room near the watcheye interface Iris met Doctor Odak. Two technicians, seated at holographic ORACLE access points, prepared to activate the procedure. Iris saw a bed waiting for her. The base of it connected with sensory adaptors that ran throughout the lower half of the soft cradle. It hummed and emitted a calm white light. The hum from ORACLE added to the tranquil soothing mood.
Iris reached the bed and looked around the chamber at the sharp lines of ORACLE’s outer housing. She gave a relaxed smile and said, “I always liked coming here as a child. My father would bring me when he needed to get away and think. I’d be quiet, and the white noise soothed me. It still does.”
Doctor Regan Odak stood over Iris. Her honey hair tied into a long ponytail and hung over her right shoulder. “Eesh, help Lady Lexor to the bed,” she said.
Eesh did as instructed and gripped Iris’ arm.
“Not so damn tight, Eesh,” Iris snapped. She lowered her head to a soft pillow and took an ample breath. The bionic heart whirled in her chest.
Regan took out a handheld mechanism, held it over Iris’ head. It made a humming noise drowned out by the underlying sound of the ORACLE system. “I’m running scans first, I –”
“You’re always running damn scans. Can we just get on with it? You told me yourself my heart has a day or less left. I’m running out of time.”
“Perhaps less once this process is complete. Linking a mind with the computer would take its toll on the strongest of person. In your...”
Iris grinned, and in a mocking voice said, “In my weakened state, I might not survive. I’m ready for death, Doctor. Get on with it.”
Ragan placed a patch on Iris’ neck and she explained, “This will administer a relaxant into your system, Milady. It will help you focus on all the things in your life and allow ORACLE to draw that information. The interface should take just a few minutes. But you’ll find the rush of memories disturbing. I set the rate at which ORACLE will draw the information at its lowest setting; even then it will be at an alarming rate. You might not survive it. Do you understand?”
In a state of euphoria, Iris nodded.
How do you feel?”
“Comfortable… relaxed,” Iris said.
Ragan spoke in a low calm tone, instructing, “Let your memories take you back, Milady, to your earliest memories. What is the first thing you remember?”
Regan’s soft calm voice jarred Iris’ memories. Her father came into her view; his silver luminescent eyes peered at her like jewels suspended in time. She heard his voice. Everything he’d ever said to her flooded through her thoughts. Every praise, scolding and promise he ever made her. That even included his hardhearted remark, “Because of you the Lexor line will end. I never wanted a daughter.”
Then she saw him. Young, full of life, but saddened. Iris’ eyes turned to the casket holding her mother’s body. She shivered. She never really knew her mother, only faint memories. Dead when Iris turned four, the memories were like shadows, figures and outlines. Even the woman in the casket remained hidden in ether.
Ragan called out for Iris. It sounded distant, and she turned away. “Hold on, Milady… focus on my voice – don’t wander away from it!”
Iris gripped the side of the bed. Her soul lifted from her and she fought to hang on. The memories ripped from her subconscious. Names, places, faces she’d forgotten over the years came back to her in a cascade of images that flashed through her conscious memory.
Her long dead husband flashed before her. His narrow dark features and sullen stare filled Iris with unscrupulous memories. She’d never treated him with the respect he deserved. A good father, though she kept the children distant from him. She refused to allow Avery and Candace to take his name because the Lexor line needed to be preserved. Iris was obligated to her father.
Her husband never complained, though distant he was a proud man, who loved her, even though she refused him everything except physical interaction. They were magnificent lovers. A simple touch and single word drove them into ecstasy. His death bed confession that he longed for death, “If to be rid of you,” did not surprise her – but now, fifty years later, the words tore at her. His image turned away.
“Corbin!” Iris yelled and reached for him. The tears raced down her cheeks. The images of her children became forefront in her thoughts. Her daughter, Candace – beautiful and talented with such potential – she squandered her life as nothing more than a useless plaything for men… a wasted life.
Then there was Avery, conceited and conniving, the future head of the Lexor family who’s ambition in life came in the pleasure of the pain he inflicted on others; a trickster, full of hate, who relished in turmoil and anarchy.
Neither of Iris’ children were worthy of her legacy, nor were they laudable enough to become the custodian of Watchtower. The images of her traumatic life swirled around her. Iris refused to allow her children to destroy what she, and the Lexors before her, built.
Iris didn’t consider herself a saint, nor was she innocent. Her father once said, ‘Everyone needs to be herded in a way that makes them believe as if they are in control.’ Iris lived by those rules in her triumphs and her shame. Victories, defeats, plots and conspiracies of a hundred years spun out of Iris’ mind like an unraveled ribbon. Love, pride, hate, fear, the emotions were indistinguishable, and Iris tried to find a place to hide from her own mind. She felt like an outsider looking in at someone else’s victories and defeats. Never in her life did she have the perspective of seeing her years from the outside.
Hard pressed to find happier memories Iris could find nothing but obscurity. A squandered life filled with secrets and lies… a life not yet complete.
Iris gasped for air. The ordeal ended, but the moments of her long-tormented life still lingered like a fog around her. She opened her reset eyes and looked at Ragan. Her face knotted. Iris forced herself to speak. The words came out broken and unrecognizable.
“Rest, Milady, you have been through a great deal.”
“Have… did… were they…”
“The imprint worked. We will have to wait to find out if ORACLE accepts or rejects it.”
Iris closed her eyes. The inrush of faces and events still forefront on her mind she flung them back open and called, “Eesh…”
Eesh hovered near her and smiled. His yellow dingy teeth filled his mouth.
“Home… Eesh…. Take me home.”
Ragan grabbed Eesh’s arm, and warned, “Milady, you need to stay still for a time. Allow your mind and body to recuperate. Then we will…”
Eesh pushed Ragan out of the way.
“Eesh will follow my… my instructions.”
Ragan backed away but still insisted, “Moving you now could be fatal.”
“Doctor if I’m to die I want it to be in my surroundings, listen to my waterfall, watch the turn of the Earth. I just want to enjoy the simple pleasures in the time I have left.”
The rush of water cascading from the waterfall echoed throughout the living chamber when Iris entered the room. Eesh pushed her out of the lift in a hover chair; a large gray blanket covered her frail cold body. She instructed him to move her over by the water. Eesh did as instructed and lit several candles at the water’s base. Iris smiled. After years of faithful service, Eesh knew what she liked. It’s a shame she didn’t treat him any better over those years. Upbringing taught her slaves were to be treated with a different authority, to let them know their place.
“Would you like to lie down, Lady Lexor?”
“No Eesh. I just want to sit here and enjoy the water.”
“If you’ll forgive me for saying this Mila
dy, you should have had Doctor Odak accompany you up here.”
“So, she could keep poking at me? No, I’m broke Eesh, old and beyond repair. I just hope what I did today will allow part of me to live on.”
“I’ll fix you a nice cup of calamine tea,” Eesh said; his voice faded as he left the room.
Iris fell in and out of consciousness. She didn’t realize how long she’d been asleep until she found the cup of tea sitting on a table near her. She reached for it. Her hand shook out of control and when she touched the cup, cold. With a weak struggling tone, she called, “Eesh?” No answer came. She called again. Footsteps came up behind her. She knew by the footfalls it wasn’t Eesh. Still Iris called for her servant anyway, “Eesh.”
“Eesh won’t be coming,” Avery said when he stepped into view.
“Avery… Avery…”
Avery’s dark suit was tattered, dirty and wrinkled. A contrast to his normal appearance. His coffee hair matted and looked black – slick against his scalp. He leaned in close to Iris and said in a taunting tone. “You don’t look as spry as you did the last time I saw you, mother.”
Her mind clouded, Iris tried to figure out why her son sounded belligerent. She asked, “Where is Candace?”
“Who knows? I’m sure she is on her back somewhere. She’s never been one to care about you, mother. Not like I care. Candace is the black sheep of this family even if I’m the one treated in such reverence.”
“Eesh…” Iris called again.
“I told you mother, Eesh won’t be coming. He’s in his quarters… dead,” Avery said and leaned in even closer to Iris’ face – the odor of his rancid breath intoxicating.
“Why…” Iris tried to speak. The words lodged in her throat. She knew what she wanted to say, but her mind was tired and empty.
“All my life I have lived in your shadow, mother… waiting for you to die, for my chance to have my moment in the limelight and now that time is here.”
Avery grabbed the back of Iris’ neck. She didn’t struggle when he pulled her from the hover chair. The cold rush of water filled her lungs as Avery forced Iris’ head under the water. Seconds later he jerked her back out and whispered in her ear, “You always liked this waterfall – it’s fitting then that you shall die in it.”
Iris released her final breath as Avery submerged her again. Her body starving for breath – Avery tightened his hold on the back of her neck until Iris succumbed to – blackness.
Durum Station – Food Processing Plant
Earth orbit April 21, 2442
Have we come to this? Hek’Dara paced back and forth on the lower warehouse floor of Durum Station surrounded by several hundred men from Lady Anders’ security force. The warehouse floor, ten thousand square feet of sealant crates and mover’s equipment, towered more than a thousand feet up, encircled with a catwalk and observation galleries. Several dozen soldiers took up position along the catwalk waiting for the Orlanders.
Hek’Dara scratched his thick beard. The gray showed through. It mimicked his disposition. He fought the rage building in him for days, like something controlled his actions. Hek’Dara refused to allow it to take him over. At first, he chocked it up to all the stress he’d been under since Da’Mira left Earth. The timing of her actions happened at the most inopportune time.
Hek’Dara joked to himself that there never had been a time when some kind of conflict hadn’t been happening. He tried to face his life head on, to live the moment and hoped everything would turn out all-right on its own.
He prepared himself for the approaching moments when everything in his life would change. He bore a path between the rows of sealant crates pacing back and forth, back and forth. The crates stacked six high and provided a sufficient barrier for protection. Back and forth he walked, his brow heavy with worry, Hek’Dara tried to sum up the previous days in one word. The only thing that came to mind was – madness.
Never in his wildest thoughts did he think it would come down to a fight between the great families. All his life he tried to find diplomatic ways to resolve conflict. With words – not guns. While there still might be time to end the conflict, Hek’Dara readied himself for the upcoming confrontation.
He sent Quinton and the Lady Anders to safety on Tannador house against their wishes. Hek’Dara didn’t want it on his conscience if something happened to either of them. While he hoped he could keep the situation from exploding into a full-scale war, Hek’Dara foresaw a skirmish spreading through the great families, beyond Durum Station. If that happened, he predicted no place could be safe.
The Orlanders over the years grew from a small security force to an army, well trained, armed and fortified. When Havashaw Orlander assumed lordship of his family their position in the Union changed. Hek’Dara saw the Orlanders power growing inside the Union and kept quiet hoping his fears weren’t true. No one said it out loud, but everyone knew that the Orlanders were becoming the army of the Watchtower.
With his thoughts anchored in the past, Hek’Dara tried to think of a time when the Watchtower didn’t hold a secret or two on the other families, or a time where the Orlanders didn’t run to Iris Lexor’s aide. It’s not that he turned a blind eye to their control, or that the other members of the Union didn’t see it coming. No one cared as long as it ended in profit for them.
Those with the most wealth – wins. It was a way of thinking that Hek’Dara endorsed.
In that blindness the Lexor and Orlander alliance grew. Not unlike the new alliance forged between the Tannadors and the Anders. Sides and boundaries would soon be picked by everyone. Like in the times of nations, where conflicts would rise over land rights, weapons, religions and a countless number of other insignificant things that the nine families set out to eliminate.
If things went bad, Hek’Dara hoped his children would have sense enough to remember the reasons man moved off Earth. He hoped they could keep the Union together.
A well-mannered officer approached Hek’Dara and snapped to attention. He wore a clean and pressed green uniform with a plasma rifle, one of the short snub weapons used for close quarter combat hung at his side. Ridged and stout, he drew a breath, eyed Hek’Dara and said, “Milord, my name is Martin. I command here.”
Hek’Dara eyed the young man. He noticed all the soldiers had the same build, the same stance, and the same chiseled features. They were rugged, yet handsome, as if all the troopers came from the same gene pool. Hek’Dara wondered if any of them had seen any kind of combat. Despite the officer’s ingenuousness appearance, he had a stalwart and unyielding disposition. “Yes, officer?”
“I’ve activated a communication dampening field throughout the station, Lord Tannador.”
Hek’Dara looked up at the ORACLE systems at various places through the warehouse. “And what about the watcheyes?”
“The dampening field is keeping them blind – for now.”
“Let’s hope it’s long enough to put an end to this,” Hek’Dara said, uncertainty lingered in the young officer’s eyes.
A signal from one of his men drew Martin’s attention away from Hek’Dara. When he turned back, he said, “An Orlander shuttle has landed at the platform now, Sir.”
“A troop transport?”
“No Sir, it’s a smaller craft, possibly a small contingent of men on board – light armaments.”
A cold chill raced up Hek’Dara’s back, he looked at Martin and asked, “Are your men ready?”
“They are in place and awaiting your orders.”
“My orders,” Hek’Dara said. He wasn’t a soldier. He knew nothing of commanding men, especially into battle. “Martin, I yield to your judgment. You command, but after I try to talk with Havashaw.”
“Face to face, Milord?”
“It’s better if I try to talk, to reason with him.”
“Sir, you just said you’d yield to my judgment. Meeting out in the open is asking for trouble.”
“Martin, I have to believe that there is hope for us. If I begin
this with violence, then what will happen to us all?” Hek’Dara felt a nervous twitch behind his eyes. He knew sooner, or later blood would be spilled. He hoped it wouldn’t be tonight.
Hek’Dara stood in the open and faced the warehouse’s entrance door. The Anders security force hid placed throughout the storehouse waiting to follow their orders. The chamber door opened and several Orlander troops, dressed in blacks and grays, poured into the stockroom. Their weapons raised.
Havashaw followed his men in. He approached Hek’Dara unarmed, with dark eyes and a narrow brow, the middle-aged man looked young. He wore an all-black military uniform, the crescent moon sigil on his left breast. With his thumb hooked in his trouser belt, he eyed Hek’Dara and said, “Are you prepared to surrender control of your facilities, Lord Tannador?”
Hek’Dara matched Havashaw’s stare and he replied, “My family has been feeding everyone since our ancestors moved into Earth’s orbit, Havashaw. Surely you understand tradition?”
“I understand, the moment we decided not to have order our society will crumble.”
“For three hundred years the Union has maintained order without your type of heavy-handedness. You know this is against our charter.”
Havashaw motioned for his men to move forward. “I’m here to put a claim to your assets Lord Tannador. Will you allow a peaceful handover – or do I take it by force?”
Hek’Dara’s heart pounded and his mouth went dry. His voice steady, he said, “I guess you leave me with no other choice.” He motioned for the Anders security force to show themselves. The sounds of charging weapons filled the warehouse floor.
Havashaw’s steel-blue eyes thinned.
“I won’t be relinquishing my proprietorship today Havashaw. There are men placed at all of my key processing plants, both in orbit and on Earth. I suggest you withdraw,” Hek’Dara said with an anxious voice.
Origin Expedition Page 22