Origin Expedition

by Charles F Millhouse

  “I’m sorry old friend. I’m afraid it will be a little while longer and you’ll be free,” Charles said and leaned on the ice. “I wish you were out of there. I could use your help.”

  Startled, Charles heard someone crying out. He looked at Vincent, but his mentor remained suspended; his frozen hollow eyes stared at him. Again, someone shouted, and he looked up the hall.

  “Professor!” My Own called out. She raced up the hall, slid on the ice.

  When Charles joined her, My Own looked at him, eyes wide, fear etched across her sun-soaked face. “You need to come back to the chamber. Something is happening, something bad,” she said, her Scottish dialect hard to understand over her panic.

  Charles knew My Own didn’t frighten easy. He gripped her by her arms to steady her. “What’s happened?”

  My Own fought to get the words out, but they caught in her throat and she shouted them at Charles. “You… need… to… come back!” Her brow tightened.

  Without further inquiries, Charles followed My Own back to the chamber. He hated to leave Vincent, ready to chisel him out of the ice with his bare hands if need be, but they needed him.

  “Come on, Professor,” My Own said and pulled Charles along.

  Charles rearranged his thoughts and put his worry about Vincent aside, again. He followed My Own back up the hall. She didn’t tell him what was happening in the Origin chamber, saying: “You must see it for yourself.”

  The sound of her voice was reason enough for him to worry. Charles grimaced when he entered the ornate chamber. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The stone had chipped away from the base of the statues and they had come alive. The others of the expedition team stood awestruck, Charles didn’t blame them he was just as wonder-struck, his heart raced.

  Da’Mira ran toward Charles, her eyes tight.

  “What the hell is going on?” Charles shouted.

  “Charles, thank goodness you’re here,” Da’Mira said taking hold of his arm. She told him what happened after he left the room.

  “Prisoner?” Charles looked at the open box on the floor. He remembered the voice that whispered from it back at Earth – his heart pounded in his chest. He pondered a moment. Could the casket have been a receptacle? He shivered at the prospects.

  Charles picked up the casket and studied it. He checked for any signs of secret compartments or hidden inscriptions. Prisoner… Prisoner? He pondered and before he could ask Da’Mira another question, a woman’s screamed filled the room. Charles wheeled around toward the smaller statue to find the crumpled body of a frail human woman breaking free from the stone. She folded to the floor.

  Da’Mira ran to the woman’s aide but Colin McGregor reached her first. He looked at Da’Mira. “Alive,” he said. Charles knelt down next to the woman. My Own hovered over his shoulder.

  The woman was frail and under nourished. Her appearance, although young, looked sullen and weak. She opened her sunken eyes. They were gray and lifeless. She tried to speak but failed at every attempt.

  Da’Mira stroked the woman’s straw thick, brittle hair, and said worriedly, “She’s so cold.”

  “I don’t understand,” My Own said.

  “Nor do I,” Charles replied. “It’s time we get some answers.”

  “Something tells me you better hurry, because I think something bad is about to happen,” My Own said.

  “This is all madness,” Colin said, disheveled.

  My Own followed her brother as he moved away from the small group.

  “You are Origin?” Charles asked.

  I AM ORIGIN> the computer said without emotion.

  “Is this a prison?” Charles asked.

  THIS IS THE ACCUMULATED KNOWLEDGE OF THE AGES – I AM THE KEEPER OF THE PAST – I AM ORIGIN>

  “Then what is this?” Charles asked and pointed at the statues.

  Origin didn’t reply.

  “You are Origin?”

  I AM ORIGIN>

  “Then what are those?” Again, Charles pointed his finger at the statues.

  Again, Origin did not reply.

  “You’re wasting your time,” Gregaor said from a distance.

  Charles ignored him and asked another question, “What is Origin’s primary function?”

  TO PROVIDE THE LEARNERED HISTORY OF THE AGES – I AM ORIGIN>

  With a raised voice Charles asked again, his finger pointing at the statues. “What are these?”

  Origin didn’t reply.

  “Charles,” Da’Mira called out.

  Charles knelt down next to the frail woman. Gregaor paced back and forth out of the corner of his eye.

  “She’s able to speak now,” Da’Mira said.

  “Who are you?” Charles asked and lowered his head close to the timid woman; his ear close to her mouth.

  The sickly woman grabbed a hold of the back of Charles’ head with her wiry hand and tightened her sinewy fingers. She spoke in a rustic version of old Earth German that Charles comprehended. “He mustn’t get out… stop him,” she said. Her inset eyes rolled over to the other statue. The larger figure, still a prisoner in decaying rock, was becoming stronger.

  Charles’ brow knitted, and he replied in German, “Help me to understand this… who is he?”

  “This is a waste of time!” Gregaor shouted. “Leave her she’s almost dead anyway.”

  “Quiet, Gregaor!” Da’Mira yelled.

  “Yes, or I will quiet you myself,” Colin warned.

  Gregaor tightened his hands and stepped away, pushing past Van.

  Charles kept his attention on the sickly woman, and said, “Please help me to understand. Who is he?”

  Between coughs the broken woman forced out a final warning, “He is Uklavar – the… the… world eater…” she passed out.

  Da’Mira checked for a pulse, and said, “She’s still alive.”

  Charles sat back and rubbed his chin. He studied the giant statue. The voice from the casket said, Uklavar. He remembered the term, world eater, encountering it on a world called Pralax IV. But it had been so long ago that he couldn’t recall where or in what context the phrase had been. After surveying fifty planets they all ran together in jumbled memories. If he had access to his files on Requiem he knew he could find the information on World Eater – even then, that would be a long shot.

  The second statue rumbled. Charles stood. The floor quaked. Several of the people in his expedition team shouted, some screamed while others watched in anticipation. The remaining layers of stone on the statue broke and cracked away like an eggshell and fell to the base of the figure. The veins in Charles’ neck harden. Goose bumps tingled up his skin. “Everyone, remain calm!” he shouted, but his words went unheard.

  Da’Mira laid the head of the strange woman on the floor and she stood next to him. She tightened her hand inside of his and stood close.

  Charles looked at Da’Mira, squeezed her hand tight and waited. He fought the instinct to run, the scientist in him begged to know more.

  A searing white noise tore through Charles’ head. He let go of Da’Mira and cupped his hands over his ears, trying to block the intense sound that sliced through his head. His teeth felt like they were vibrating out of his mouth. He fell to his knees, screamed – he went unheard. The white noise blocked out every sound – destroyed every thought and sucked away his desire to live. His vision blurred and before he blacked out, he saw Da’Mira collapse to the floor next to him.

  Kepler 369

  The Temple – Inside the Origin Chamber

  May 7, 2442 – Earth Time

  “This is wrong,” Colin said. No matter how hard he tried to shrug off the inevitable feeling, he couldn’t. His existence hung in a balance of life and death. The gut-wrenching pain that tore through him seconds ago faded. A warm sedation washed over him like a hot summer day. He saw the overgrown flora in the valleys of Scotland laid out before him; tall cottongrass blew in the warm summer breeze. “This is wrong.” Not even in his lifetime had the valleys been so aliv
e.

  Colin felt a hand on his shoulder. Corah stood behind him, her face tight, and her eyes red as if she’d been crying. He looked at his sister; he’d never known her to expose her feelings to anyone – even him. This is wrong. He turned toward her. “What is it?” he asked unsure if she would reply.

  Growing up, Corah kept emotions like sorrow, anger and fear to herself. Even when their father died she did not shed a tear and it confused him. How could he have been so distraught and his younger sister so callous?

  Colin stared at Corah. Her lips, swollen purple and her flesh shaded white. “What is it Corah?” he asked and reached out for her, but she stood just out of reach. When he moved toward her they became even further apart. “Take my hand –” he reached out for her, but Corah remained still. Her image became translucent.

  Now Colin ran toward her, but his legs slipped as if running on loose rocks. He looked down to his feet. They ran in place. Angry, Colin shouted, “No! I won’t play these games.”

  “This is no game,” Corah spoke. “He has come.”

  Colin’s dark eyes flung open, his vision blurred. Lying on the cold hard floor of the Origin chamber, the Highlander struggled for a breath – his lungs stabbed with each inhale, the pain shocked him awake. Disorientated he pushed himself up. The muscles in his arms were on fire. The room spun around while he searched for Corah. He found her on the floor near him. She didn’t move.

  Dizzy, nauseous and on weak legs Colin stood. The others in the chamber stirred. The air thick and arid, the bitter taste hung in the back of his throat. Colin coughed trying to clear the taste, but it made him sicker.

  Corah woke, as did Avara, who shunned away from everyone. Dread in her eyes; her face twisted into a knot.

  “Everyone,” Charles Long called out in a calm voice. “Everyone out of the chamber now… before Uklavar…”

  “You know my name,” the creature’s voice resonated throughout the chamber.

  Colin grimaced, he noticed Charles gazing at a new figure in the room. An immense being stood among the remains of the crumbled statue. Colin studied the creature – it’s back turned toward him.

  Colin reached down for his sister and helped her up. He motioned her to move toward the exit, along with everyone else.

  “You sound like insects when you move,” the creature’s voice echoed – he turned toward Colin. The hairs on the Highlander’s arm stood on their ends.

  My Own reached out for Colin, she tried to speak but her voice wouldn’t come.

  Da’Mira gasped, “Charles –” She pointed.

  Gregaor Xavier ran past Da’Mira, grabbed hold of his brother’s arm and ran, pulling Van behind him and out of the Origin chamber. He didn’t look back… his eyes hardened like a wild animal being chased.

  Colin thought of doing the same thing. A deep laugh filled the chamber. For the first time, he got a glimpse at Uklavar’s face when he turned toward him.

  Uklavar’s dull green skin stretched tightly over, what appeared to be an external skeleton. Narrow facial bones outlined the contours of his head. Sharp thin horns pierced through the skin and flexed with the slightest articulation. “They still run like rats fleeing a doomed ship when they see me. The infancy of lesser races still delights me,” Uklavar said with a pleased tone.

  Uklavar had well-defined muscle tone after being trapped inside a stone prison. For how long, Colin didn’t know, he assumed more than his lifetime, and perhaps many more lifetimes.

  Charles continued to usher his team out of the room, but most of the archeologists refused; disregarding their safety to feed their scientific knowledge. It didn’t surprise Colin that Charles didn’t flee either but tried to encourage Da’Mira to run. She refused and stood defiant next to him.

  “You won’t be going either… will you?” Colin asked his sister.

  My Own squared her shoulders, narrowed her eyes and replied, “What do you think?”

  Charles looked over at Avara, who didn’t run because of bravery, but from sheer fright.

  Uklavar clapped his hands together with delight; his blood-red lips drew up into a disturbing smile. “You bipeds haven’t changed, still obtuse after all this time. Even under the threat of death you remain arrogant beyond comprehension.”

  Charles took a skittish step forward and said, “We don’t mean you any harm.”

  Colin stood ready. They were well-past the time for talk and he saw the sentiment in Uklavar’s eyes. The alien mocked Charles, exposing his sharp incisors.

  Charles spoke again, this time more informal, “We are people of science who explore this world.”

  “No, you’re not,” Uklavar said. His ruby eyes flared.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You are fodder. You were the moment you entered this room.” Uklavar reached out. An unseen force captured Charles. His flesh boiled. “The moment you took possession of the casket I manipulated your every move.”

  Colin prepared to attack. He tightened his muscles, increased his grip on his sword and picked out Uklavar’s weak spot. Before he rushed in he heard, “Enough!” he craned his head and found the frail sickly woman from the other statue standing – leaning against her staff.

  Charles fell to the floor with a thud. He cried out and Da’Mira rushed to him.

  Uklavar’s posture changed from the aggressor to the subjugated. He cowered, but his presence did not weaken. “The time you were imprisoned with me, has made you weak Azalum,” he said; his thundering voice now less threatening.

  Azalum’s hollow eyes peered at Uklavar with purpose. She replied, “I might be weak, but I doubt if you’re much stronger than I am.”

  Uklavar took a step forward. He licked his lips with a slimy thick tongue, said, “Shall we put that to a test?”

  Colin took a step back, took hold of My Own’s arm and pulled her along with him. He looked over his shoulder for Avara, but she’d disappeared. Frantic he turned looking for her, but to no avail. He kept a firm grip on his sister and watched Azalum, ready to fight. Her staff no longer used as a crutch.

  “I can see the struggle in your face, the pain. You can barely stand – how do you propose to fight me?” Uklavar said. He advanced and stretched out his bony arms. A ripple of superheated air shot out across the room.

  Azalum took a step into it, her staff out in front of her. The blast passed around her, ruffling the yellow robes she wore.

  “Impressive, you fell to that attack in the past,” Uklavar said.

  Colin saw the strain in Azalum’s face. The counter of the attack weakened her. Near Uklavar, Da’Mira urged Charles away from the fight. Colin looked at his sister. He couldn’t believe it when he told her to, “Wait here.”

  Colin sprinted across the floor. Keeping his body low, hoping not to be noticed, he reached Da’Mira in a few seconds. She gave him a nod when he grabbed a hold of Charles and pulled him away from the fight.

  “You see Uklavar, I can withstand you,” Azalum said. A bright peach color returned to her face and she stood regal.

  Uklavar snarled. “It’s a farce and one I don’t intend on remaining to watch. I have slept long enough, and the galaxy will be sorry.”

  “You don’t think I will allow you to leave do you?” Azalum asked.

  Uklavar waved his hand. “You might have enough strength to keep me here under the current circumstances. But unlike you I’m willing to make sacrifices so I might survive.”

  My Own shrieked and Colin’s heart sunk when Uklavar reached out for her. An invisible force pulled his sister into Uklavar’s waiting hand.

  Uklavar tightened his grip around My Own’s torso. “This one is young and full of strength, it nourishes me.”

  Da’Mira stood, Charles lying at her feet. She pleaded, “Take me… Take me instead.”

  My Own’s skin became a dark gray – her eyes a mellow white – lifeless.

  Uklavar stared at Da’Mira, his eyes ablaze. “You have possibilities – but you are too old and wouldn’t last long. Thi
s young child has the vitality and stamina to help me rekindle my power.”

  Colin heard enough and charged Uklavar, he shrieked a war cry and held his sword poised above his shoulder.

  “No –” Azalum warned.

  “Impressive – he reminds me of Alvenzar. Bold but brazenly stupid,” Uklavar said. He raised his emaciated hand out in front of him and released another blast of superheated air – this time more powerful than before. The shockwave tore into Colin’s body with hurricane force and threw him across the room.

  The impact against a wall cracked several of Colin’s ribs. A knot formed above his right eye when his head hit the floor. He heard his sword clamoring next to him. Colin shoved himself up onto his arms, he pushed through the anguish. Blood dripped from his nose. Corah – he looked for his sister.

  “He still lives – remarkable. He is like Alvenzar.” Uklavar said and turned away from Colin.

  “Leave the child,” Azalum ordered. “Or…”

  “Or you’ll what? Right now, I am more than a match for you. Soon I won’t need a surrogate to help replenish my strength and when that happens I will remind everyone who I am.”

  “Remind who?” Da’Mira spoke up. “We’ve been excavating these systems for more than a hundred years and all we’ve found are dead worlds.”

  “You see Uklavar you’ve left nothing but death and destruction in your wake a millennium ago. Destroying worlds wasn’t good enough for you – you had to wipe out entire cultures,” Azalum said. She propped herself up against her staff. Her voice still weak, the pinkish color faded.

  Uklavar turned his back to her.

  “What would Elista say?”

  Uklavar whipped around; his teeth exposed. “Don’t invoke her name ever again,” he snarled and walked toward the back of the Origin chamber. My Own gave a weak scream and stretched out her arms away from Uklavar but they withered like a dying plant and she folded in on herself.