“My Own!” Da’Mira shouted. She took a few lumbering steps toward Uklavar but froze in her stride. She looked back at Charles.
Colin fought to keep on his feet. He picked up the generational sword; heavier than usual he readied himself. He followed Corah. Every bone in his body ached. He spat blood, it tasted brackish. He wasn’t able to take a deep breath, but he refused to give up.
“You mustn’t follow him,” Azalum warned Colin when he struggled past her.
Colin gave her a wry stare. He straightened his stance and picked up his stride. The pain riddled through him more intense than anything he’d ever experienced. He wished Shane was at his side. He needed a good friend like him, someone to trust – someone that had his back in a time of trouble. Colin hacked and coughed. He spat more blood to the floor and reminded himself that Shane died because he didn’t have his back. Perhaps he was better off without a trusted friend.
“Please – listen… there is nothing you can do to stop him,” Azalum explained, but her words trailed off when Colin ignored her.
“You are Origin,” Da’Mira asked, her voice heavy.
I AM ORIGIN>
“Stop the creature Uklavar at all cost.”
I CANNOT COMPLY>
“Why?”
I AM NEVER TO INTERFERE IN THE ACTIONS OF SENTIENT LIFE – ONLY TO OBSERVE AND CHRONICLE FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS – I AM ORIGIN>
Colin looked over his shoulder at Da’Mira and then back toward Uklavar who headed toward the chamber where he and Avara arrived. Colin quickened his pace. Uklavar meant to escape through the portal and he had one final chance to stop him.
Uklavar had a good head start on Colin, but he saw the alien’s shadow ahead of him and he continued on. Using his sword as a crutch, Colin skipped two or three steps at a time to gain ground on the creature and his sister. He just found her and did not intend on losing her again.
He mustered up enough hidden strength, driven by fury and anger. The rage burned in him. He hoped it was enough to give Uklavar a contest he wouldn’t forget.
The Omni presence of the creature filled the chamber. Colin’s skin crawled. He hid himself and prepared to attack. The hilt of his sword in his hands, he charged into the room – weapon held high.
Uklavar turned; he glared but didn’t seem surprised that Colin followed. The creature didn’t offer a defense and it let out a pleasing sigh when Colin drove his blade into the creature’s chest. Uklavar’s wet teeth glistened; he licked them with his thick slimy tongue. He turned. With a wave of a hand, he opened the dimensional portal.
Colin shoved the sword deeper into Uklavar. The creature roared and swatted toward Colin sending the Highlander spinning end over end across the room. The sword snapped in half. Part of it fell to the floor while the rest remained lodged in the green titan’s body. Colin landed on the floor with an unpleasant thud. Something in his back cracked and popped and he could not move. Uklavar’s eyes wrenched with pain. He pulled My Own close to him. As if orchestrated the black brick wall turned in on its self. The portal spun alive. The vortex churned and throttled like a long endless snake alive with rage.
Colin rolled over but still wasn’t able to get up, when he heard his sister calling for him. With a hidden strength he staggered to his feet. His legs wobbled; it was a struggle to remain upright. He narrowed his browbeaten eyes and yelled, “You – bastard!”
Uklavar looked back toward Colin, blithely giving him a glance.
Broken and beaten, the Highlander refused to appear defeated, even though he knew he couldn’t fight anymore. He squared his shoulders, though it hurt to do so, and said with conviction, “You should have killed me.”
Uklavar didn’t reply. He turned and stepped into the vortex.
Colin’s eyes locked onto his sister. His gaze gave her a silent promise he would come for her. My Own’s face faded into eternity until he could no longer see her. After the portal closed, Colin tumbled to the floor, sobbing into his hands. His heart pounded in his chest. His grief turned to anger. He steadied his emotions, his world ripped away from him he was lost. When he looked up he saw Avara standing just out of arms reach. They exchanged a long quiet look.
“What are you doing?” Colin asked when he saw the dark crystal in the palm of Avara’s hand. He must have lost it from his pocket in the fight.
Avara stared at the stone, her eyes mesmerized.
Shaking and distraught Avara said with a trembled voice, “I don’t belong here… I know I shouldn’t have come with you… I want to go home.”
“I’ll see you get home,” Colin assured her.
“How can I believe you? You couldn’t save your sister.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I’ve decided that I need to watch out for myself. I want to get back to my daughter, hold her in my arms, kiss her… tell her I love her. I need to do that now.” Avara turned toward the brick wall that had reappeared after Uklavar disappeared.
Colin tried to get up, but he no longer had the strength. “Think about this, Avara. You don’t know that this vortex will take you back home. It could take you where Uklavar went, or, or, it could throw you out into space. Are you willing to take that chance?”
Avara turned away.
“Avara, listen!” Colin shouted, trying to get up – his strength abandoned him.
Slamming the crystal into the wall the wormhole tore open the fabric of space time. Avara turned toward Colin. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and raised a hand of farewell. A blinding white light reached out and pulled her into the swirling mass of colors. She disappeared into eternity.
Colin wanted to reach out for Avara, but stayed his hand. She was beyond help. He collapsed to the floor, his strength spent, all he could do was watch the wormhole close behind her. He hoped Avara made it home. The alternative frightened him. For the first time in his life, he no longer had control of anything. He’d always known what to do. Away from Earth and everything that made sense to him gone, Colin knew he couldn’t find his sister without help. He looked to the stairs. Da’Mira Tannador, he thought.
Kepler 369
Outside the Alien Temple
May 7, 2442 – Earth Time
The alien sun blinded Gregaor when he pulled Van out of the temple into the new daylight. He heard Hyta Winter speak to him when they ran through the main chamber of the complex on their way out, he ignored her. He should have stopped and warned her to get out. Hell, he shouldn’t have run. He’d never run and abandoned others before. To say he ran because he felt compelled to, seemed more of an excuse than the truth. The voice of the creature filled his mind and Gregaor scooped up his brother and ran. He hated himself.
Van pulled away from his brother with a jerk of his arm. “What are we doing?” he asked.
A sweltering pulse of energy tore through Gregaor’s mind. He focused, but wasn’t sure if he was thinking. “We need to get away, little brother. We need to be safe,” he said and saw the disappointment in Van’s face. He’d seen that look when Van discovered him taking gold.
“We left Da’Mira and the others behind. We need to go back and help!”
Gregaor ignored him even if he was right. He told Van in a clear unwavering voice. “We need to get back to the Seeker.”
“How – our shuttle is crashed. We’re stuck here.”
The communication link on Gregaor’s belt buzzed. He looked at Van with an ironic smile and answered the signal.
“The electromagnetic field around the planet has diminished,” a voice from the link said. “We are sending a shuttle down now. Sending coordinates to your link, Milord.”
“Copy,” Gregaor replied. He switched the link off and glared at Van. “There, you see. We are going back to the ship.”
Defiantly, Van shook his head and backed away from Gregaor. The trepidation in his eyes widened and his lips trembled. “What is happening?” he asked. His voice wrenched.
Gregaor moved toward his brother. He’d spent most of h
is life protecting Van. To see him cower away like a stranger confused him.
Van stumbled backward, tripping over a clump of dirt. He maintained his footing, shoved a finger toward Gregaor and said, “You… you… you… aren’t the man I thought… thought you to be. You’ve been mean to people, including the woman you claim to love. All my life I’ve looked up to you – wanted to be like you. But… but… I’ve opened my eyes to who you are.”
Gregaor’s silver eyes flashed and in a commanding tone said, “This is who I am, little brother. I am our mother’s son. She taught us to be ruthless and forceful, to be persistent and to win. I like to win, Van. It’s what a Xavier is supposed to do, be a winner.”
“I hate you!” Van yelled. His face tightened, and he glared at Gregaor in betrayal. “I hate you!”
The sonic boom of the approaching shuttle thundered across the sky.
Gregaor waved his hand at the sky, said, “There. The shuttle is coming. It will be here in a few minutes. Let’s talk about this on the ship.”
“I’m staying,” Van said adamant.
The blast from the shuttle’s engines echoed through the valley. The narrow craft landed in a clearing near the temple. Its wings turned upward, and landing struts lowered from the underbelly. The tall gray-green grass throughout the valley drunkenly swayed back and forth as the turbines whined to a stop. Gregaor waved toward the craft. A man emerged from the hatch and returned the gesture. “Don’t you understand once I leave you’ll be stuck here. I won’t be coming back for you.”
Van shook his head and stood steadfast, said, “I’d rather stay here where I know I’ll be happy. On Earth, with mother I’m treated worse than a slave.”
The malevolent voice of Uklavar tore through Gregaor’s head – it growled, Leave him.
Gregaor ignored the command. He wasn’t sure if it was the creature in the temple or fatigue setting in.
I said leave him.
A sharp pain cut through Gregaor’s mind. He grabbed his forehead with his right hand. An incredible red-hot pain burned behind his eyes. He screamed, “Van please come on,” he begged one more time. The urge to run to the shuttle overpowered him.
Leave him now or I will destroy your ship in orbit. The relentless voice said in a deep ominous threat.
Gregaor took one final look at his brother. “I’m sorry, Van,” he said and raced toward the shuttle. He turned back to give Van one final glance, but he’d gone from the meadow.
Gregaor strapped himself in the seat behind the pilot when the ship blasted away from the surface. His stomach lunged forward, and it felt like it would catch in his throat. The shuttle shuttered once it hit the upper atmosphere and the bright afternoon blue sky faded to charcoal and to space black.
From the front window of the shuttle, the Seeker hung in orbit alongside Da’Mira’s ship, Requiem. The shuttle arced across the oval configuration of the planet until it came into trajectory with his expedition ship.
Flight crews were at the ready when the transport entered the bay. The ship shook when the landing grapplers took a hold of the craft and brought it the rest of the way into the landing bay. The shuttles main engines cut and the noise in the cabin decreased. Gregaor cleared his thoughts. He wondered how he would explain to his mother that he left Van behind on the planet. Then he realized he was thinking about his mother. She wouldn’t give a damn where Van ended up, long as she didn’t have to deal with him.
Once the ship completed the landing procedure he departed the shuttle and made his way toward his personal cabin. He waved off his captain’s attempt to give report saying, “It can wait. I need a hot bath, something to eat and some sleep.” What Gregaor meant to say was, “I need a hit of gold.”
“Will your brother not be coming, Milord? Did you abandon him on the planet?” the captain asked trying to keep step with Gregaor.
Gregaor wanted to ask the officer what he meant. He didn’t abandon his brother. Van stayed. Yes, of his own choice. “Set a course for Earth. I’ve had about all I want from this damn planet,” he said not listening to the captain. “Make preparations for a wormhole jump.”
“As you command,” the captain said with a snap of his boots.
Gregaor entered his quarters. The lights were dim. He found an aerosol hit of gold in the top drawer of a desk near the back wall of the room. He cracked it open and deeply huffed in the vapors. The dose surged through his body. It tingled, and he achieved the rush he needed. His heart raced. Gregaor took a deep breath – he relaxed.
When Gregaor heard movement behind him, he spun around on the balls of his feet and called out, “Lights.” The room brightened.
My Own sat in a large cushioned chair on the other end of the room. Her lavender eyes were red and swollen. She sat with her legs pent up under her.
“How did you get in here?” Gregaor asked before he realized who he spoke to. “You’re Da’Mira’s slave. How did you get on this ship?” he noticed her coveralls ripped and hung on her wiry body by threads.
My Own’s fitful stare drew Gregaor’s eyes to the archway between rooms. His chest tightened seeing the creature step from the shadows.
Uklavar walked with a rigid stance; his shoulders squared and regal. He studied Gregaor.
Gregaor couldn’t talk. Not that he wanted to say anything to the creature. He closed his eyes and opened them again hoping not to see Uklavar standing there.
“What do you want?” Gregaor asked in a gulp.
“Assistance,” Uklavar replied.
“Why would you – you need my assistance?”
Uklavar leered down toward Gregaor, his nostrils flared, and he said, “I have been trapped on the planet below for a long time. My prowess is weakened, and I cannot travel a long distance. I need your help to find my way home.”
“Why?”
“Don’t provoke him,” My Own said. She curled herself up into a tight ball.
“The Cosmea defeated my army at their own sacrifice. Their combined powers trapped my fleet and ground forces in a temporal alcove. I need your help to free them.”
Gregaor took a hesitant breath and asked, “What’s in it for me?”
Uklavar gave a sardonic grin. His teeth glistened, and he asked, “What do you want?”
“Earth – I want to rule Earth.”
My Own sprang from the chair. She charged Gregaor and yelled, “You’d sell out your own planet!”
Uklavar shot My Own a deadly gaze. In a thunderous tone he commanded, “Silence! I need you alive for now. Your actions will choose the manner of your eventual death.”
My Own recoiled, her eyes fixed on Gregaor. He knew what he was doing, or at least he hoped he did. If he gave in too easy, Uklavar might think his cooperation a ruse. “I want the Earth.”
Uklavar’s skin flushed a light green. He struggled to say, “I will rule all, including the Earth. But you could proctor my will as a prime minister.”
Gregaor noticed Uklavar’s changing appearance – his sickly demeanor. “I would like that,” he said, but he wasn’t sure Uklavar heard him.
“Come here, child,” Uklavar reached out for My Own. The Highlander obeyed.
“What’s wrong with you?” Gregaor asked.
“A minor problem that will soon rectify itself,” Uklavar replied and added, “it’s none of your concern.”
Gregaor saw My Own’s face fade a deadly gray. He swallowed hard and wondered, is this what’s in store for all of us? “If you need medical attention…”
Uklavar cast My Own aside. She dropped to the floor gasping for a breath. His posture stiffened. His gaze narrowed with purpose and he snapped, “Enough of this prattle. We have work ahead of us.”
Kepler 369
The Origin Chamber
May 7, 2442 – Earth Time
Da’Mira hated not knowing – not following the Highlander after he took off after Uklavar. She let My Own down, even after she swore she’d protect the girl, she didn’t even try to save her. She tried to justify he
r inactions by telling herself, what could I have done against that alien creature. I would have been killed. Even after telling herself that repeatedly it didn’t make her feel any better. She failed, and it ripped her up inside. Da’Mira considered herself somewhat of a champion of the people, the low-born and the breeders. Had it all been a ruse? Something she told herself to feel better for all her privilege.
The members of the expedition recuperated. Most of them were in shock. After many years of excavating alien worlds, none of them were prepared for something like what had taken place here. All the members were accounted for, all except Gregaor and Van who ran from the chamber at the first sign of trouble. Da’Mira never thought Gregaor Xavier would be so cowardly. Even someone heroic, must have a limitation, Da’Mira considered. Still she never thought it would be Gregaor. If she thought anyone would be so weak, she thought it would be Charles Long. Perhaps it’s true what they say about judging a book by its cover. Charles remained resilient, and she liked that.
Da’Mira looked at Charles, who remained unconscious. He’s braver than I. She couldn’t stop blaming herself for My Own, but hard as it was, she pushed aside the guilt and looked after Azalum. The frail woman was much older than Da’Mira in appearance though she’d gathered that both Azalum and Uklavar were trapped in the statues for more years than she even dared to calculate. Pouring water from a canteen, Da’Mira found food cubes and sat down next to the woman. She gave her a warm smile.
Azalum sat with her back against a wall, she returned Da’Mira’s smile with a weak one of her own. Da’Mira tilted the cup up to Azalum’s lips and said, “Rest.”
Azalum laughed; some water leaked out of the corners of her mouth. She coughed, used her tired hand to wipe the water from the crook of her mouth and said, “I’ve… been resting for thousands of years. I think I’ve gotten all I’ll need for a long time.”
Da’Mira brushed her scarlet hair out of her eyes and gave Azalum a puzzled look, said, “There’s something familiar about you. Something I can’t put my finger on.”
Origin Expedition Page 39