TROPHY

by Paul M. Schofield

  “Greetings, Star-Commander VanDevere and Lieutenant-Warden Rogerton, you are right on time, as we expected,” she said, extending her hand first to the Star-Commander. “Welcome to CENTRAL. I am Guardian X. I have anticipated this meeting with you.”

  “Thank you, Guardian, this is a rare privilege for us,” VanDevere said. She accepted the Guardian’s firm hand shake. Rogerton remained silent, trying to be as obscure as possible.

  “Is this your first visit to CENTRAL, Lieutenant?” Guardian X said, her blue-gray eyes reflecting the low illumination. She extended her hand to Rogerton.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Rogerton said, extending her hand. She was quite unsure whether to say or ask more.

  “Please, just call me Guardian, my dear. There are ten of us here, ten Guardians. I am number ten, the youngest. Our duty, our privilege, is to take care of CENTRAL, the Computer. We are inside of it now, in fact. That is why you were decontaminated before being allowed entry. Please take no offense, it has nothing to do with personal hygiene.”

  The two officers walked along with the Guardian as she explained some of the workings and parts of the vast and complicated technology around them. She tried to put it in simple terms and concepts they could understand, but it was still technical and abstract, even with their high level of education and training.

  “Please, Guardian, may I ask you a question?” Rogerton said.

  “Certainly, how can I help you?” Guardian X said, putting her hands together, turning to face the young officer.

  “I was wondering about historical data. How far in the past do the archives reach? Do they precede the New Beginning? Do they have a record of our ancestors?”

  The Guardian’s eyes briefly met the Star-Commander’s. With a smile she turned to Rogerton. “The answer to both of your questions is mostly yes. The data bases reach back to the earliest days of computer systems. However, before and after the New Beginning there were some system failures, not total failures, mind you, but enough to leave some gaping holes that we have not been able to fill. Most of human history is still there.”

  “But if you could go back in time, those gaps could be filled, couldn't they?” Rogerton said with surprising seriousness.

  The Guardian studied Rogerton. “I am beginning to understand why you recommend our young officer, Star-Commander,” she said and then paused. “Yes, Lieutenant, that seems more of a real possibility in view of what you and Star-Commander VanDevere have discovered. I cannot say more now, but soon we will speak in greater depth on these matters.”

  They continued on for a while until the Guardian stopped and faced Rogerton. “Lieutenant-Warden, in view of your excellent progress and helpful accomplishments, it is my pleasure to promote you to full Lieutenant. Congratulations!” she said, offering a firm hand to the young woman.

  “Yes! Congratulations, Lieutenant!” VanDevere said, also giving her a firm handshake. “Thank you very much, Guardian!”

  The Guardian and Star-Commander both smiled broadly while Rogerton felt her face flush, growing uncomfortably warm. It was difficult for her to accept praise, even when deserved.

  “Thank you – Guardian,” she stammered. “And – and thank you, Ma’am. I have always tried – I mean – it is an honor to serve the New Victorian Empire. I will continue to try – to do my best.”

  “Yes, that is what we expect of our finest,” Guardian X said, continuing her praise. “Let us continue to the Chambers where we can refresh ourselves before our meeting.” She led them deeper into the Computer.

  Chapter XXIV

  The Star-Commander was comfortable in the shielded chambers of CENTRAL. The simple furnishings and color schemes were tasteful and relaxing, yet stimulating to thinking and creativity. A river rock fireplace with a realistic holographic fire gave it a homey quaintness that didn’t feel out of place, but natural, bringing back memories of the house she had lived in as a young girl. A faint essence of wood smoke completed the ambiance.

  Two more Guardians had joined Guardian X and the two officers. All were sitting in comfortable chairs near the fireplace. Behind them at the other end of the room were the two pedestals. A faint sheen sparkled above each of them.

  Guardian II stood up and spoke first. “Star-Commander VanDevere and Lieutenant Rogerton, we thank you for a job well done. Your presence of mind in how you handled this situation has helped us considerably. We have already had the opportunity to talk with Franelli, quite successfully I might add, and to further examine these pedestals. Because you were instrumental in obtaining them, we want you both to witness the awakening of the ancient man, Martin Charles Bucklann.”

  “We have already made some progress in our understanding of the nuclear power units in the bases,” Guardian VII said. “This is crucial for our restoration of mobility to the man and panther by means of advanced cybernetics.”

  “Please, Guardian,” Rogerton said. “Are you saying you can build robotic bodies for them, so they are no longer trapped in these hideous cages?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant, if they will allow that. The choice must be theirs. We truly want to help them, but it is a moral issue, and they must decide.”

  “But Guardian! How will the panther decide? The man will no doubt give his opinion but what about the panther?”

  “This is where your help will be needed, Lieutenant,” Guardian X said. “You have already spoken to it, have you not? There is already an emotional connection, however small it may be, between you and the panther. It could be the beginning of trust and ultimately communication of some sort. We do not have the answers and success could be a long shot, but are you willing to try? The rewards could be great. Indeed, that is what we hope. I believe you are up for this challenge, are you not, Lieutenant?” she said, her eyes fixed intently on the young officer.

  The rank of Lieutenant seemed rather insignificant compared to the four powerful and influential women looking at her now, waiting for an answer. She sighed inwardly, giving the only answer she could, and offered it in good conscience with her heartfelt thoughts. “I will do everything in my power to help this poor creature. I am grateful for this privilege to help.”

  “Very good, Lieutenant,” Guardian II said, smiling broadly. “A program is already in place. You will be working with Guardian VII and her team of Specialists. She will discuss the details with you later.

  “Let us now awaken the ancient man,” Guardian II said. “I think we are all very curious of what we will find. Guardian X will take the lead, but the conversation will be open to us all.”

  The five assembled a comfortable distance in front of the pedestal and Guardian X touched the top plate. The nearly invisible shimmer turned to a sparkling sheen that grew darker. Out of a thick fog a shape began to appear, crystallizing into clarity as the fog dissipated. The head of the ancient man, Martin Charles Bucklann, was directly in front of them, still asleep.

  “Did we ever dream we would see such a man as this?” Guardian II said. The others echoed similar sentiments. “I knew what to expect, but I find him totally fascinating! Extraordinary!”

  “Let us awaken him,” Guardian X said. “Let us be gentle with him, remember who put him into this position.”

  She touched the lower plate and they waited twenty seconds, thirty seconds, and nothing happened. Fifty seconds went by and then sixty. Finally Martin opened his hazel-green eyes and looked straight ahead.

  Chapter XXV

  A faint hum began to pervade his senses. His eyes were shut and they wouldn’t open. He was trying to wake up, but it seemed as if nothing was happening. He felt more energy flowing to his brain, and finally he was able to open his eyes. He continued to stare as the blur in front of him gradually came into focus. He was confounded by what he saw. In front of him were five women of different ages and races, three wearing white uniforms, and two of dark forest green. The eyes of the latter two were tinged purple. They were both Caucasians, the younger being taller with large, blue-green eyes and shoulder length a
uburn hair. She was strikingly beautiful. The other had a look of authority and was likewise attractive with steel-gray eyes and short blond hair.

  The nearest woman in white was tall and looked Italian. Her dark, olive-colored skin complimented her short blond wavy hair and blue-gray eyes. Behind her, also in white, appeared a short, slight, woman with large, dark brown eyes and short black hair. She looked to be South American Indian. Beside her was a somewhat heavy-set, kindly faced African woman. She had deep brown mahogany skin, short white curly hair, and was older than the others. Curiously, each woman in white had a ten-pointed black star by her left shoulder. The authoritative woman in green had a matching symbol in silver or platinum. They were all in a living room of sorts with a fireplace burning at the opposite end. Everyone was quiet. The only sound was the muted hiss and pop of the distant fire.

  The door at the far wall opened and a tall, slender woman entered and walked gracefully to the others. She wore a white uniform, a ten-pointed black star, and intricately beaded leather moccasins. Her gray hair hung in long braids on either side of her finely wrinkled red-skinned face. Her black eyes were alert and full of life. She looked to be American Indian and was, without a doubt, the oldest person there. She stood silently with the others.

  Martin closely contemplated the six women standing in front of him. He waited for them to speak, but the silence continued. He had questions that needed answering, so he finally spoke. “Who are you? Where am I? What are you going to do with me?” he said in a determined voice.

  The Italian woman in white smiled and spoke with a distinct accent, unfamiliar to Martin. “You have many questions, Martin Charles Bucklann. In time we will answer them all, but be assured that we mean you no harm, and that we only want to help you. I am called Guardian X and we have rescued you from Galen Bestmarke’s ship.”

  “Did you kill him?” he said with a snarl, his eyes suddenly full of hatred.

  “No, Martin, unfortunately he escaped, but we will ultimately capture him. We did capture his chief engineer who is responsible for your being here and in your present condition. We also captured one more pedestal.”

  “What’s in the other pedestal? Have you looked yet?”

  “Yes, we did,” Guardian X said. “It is a magnificent black panther, caged as you have been, sadly.”

  “And that’s all? My father’s in one, too!”

  The six women were stunned. They looked at each other and back to Martin with genuine pity. Martin could only groan and cast his eyes downward, feeling thoroughly wretched.

  The African woman in white stepped closer, assuring him in a kindly, comforting voice. “I am Guardian II, Martin. Please, let us help and comfort you. Your loss is indeed great, but we can help. We have vast resources at our disposal and you have given us a great priority to capture Bestmarke and his ship. We truly want to help you.” The assurances and soothing tone of her voice were a healing balm on Martin’s tortured mind.

  “Why’d he do this, first to my father, and now to me?” Martin said. “I want to get my father away from him! He’s nothing but a trophy hunter! I hate trophy hunters! They’re the ones who should be hung up on the wall instead of all the animals they’ve killed! Why do they do it?” Martin raged, his pent-up anger boiling over. He stopped shouting and was quiet for a moment, trying to calm himself. He looked into the faces of all the women standing by him. “He must be stopped,” he said in a subdued voice, his rage turning to dismay, his eyes pleading for sympathy.

  The eldest woman in white stepped closer to Martin and studied his eyes, a gentle look on her face. “I am called Guardian I, Martin. My North American ancestors knew much of trophy hunters. Long ago their lives depended on the bison that roamed the plains in great numbers. Do you remember what happened to the bison or buffalo as some called them?”

  “Uh, yes, Ma’am, I guess I do,” he said, starting to calm himself. “They were hunted nearly to extinction. Sharpshooters killed thousands from the railroad trains and soldiers killed a lot of them, too.”

  “Why did they kill them, Martin?”

  “For sport?”

  “That is partially true. Those hunters were glorified for their actions. But the underlying reason for the vast slaughter was to undermine the whole way of life for my ancient ancestors. Without the bison, they could no longer exist in relative peace as they had for many generations. It was more than the bison that were nearly exterminated. So you see, we understand what trophy hunters are.” She looked him directly in the face. “Are you a trophy hunter, Martin?”

  “No, not me! How can you ask that?”

  “You are a hunter, are you not?” she said, watching his expression. “What is your purpose in hunting?”

  “I hunt for the meat, the food.”

  “My ancestors also hunted for the food. In fact they used every part of the animal, nothing was wasted,” she said, in a matter-of-fact way. “For what other reason do you hunt, Martin?”

  “I – I guess I like the challenge. I guess I enjoy trying to outsmart the animal.”

  “Who has the advantage? You or the animal?”

  “I – I guess I do. My rifle has a scope – I can use it from quite a distance. I can decide if I want to pull the trigger, to kill the animal.”

  “Does your livelihood absolutely depend on your hunting animals as was the case with my ancestors?”

  “No, I guess it doesn’t,” he said, his eyes downcast.

  “Now do you understand why I asked if you were a trophy hunter?” Guardian I said. “Only you can answer that question. It is a matter of what is really in your heart, in your inmost thoughts and desires. What drives men to be trophy hunters? Is it not really what is in their hearts? Or to put it more accurately, is it not really their lack of heart?”

  “But men like Bestmarke love to kill. They're not interested in just getting food – they love the hunt, the glory, the bragging rights, the dominance it brings them. They are violent men, killers that don't want to change.” Martin looked at her for a long moment. “But I guess I can see your point.”

  “I am glad you do, Martin,” she said. “Guardian X will explain how we can safely get your father back.” She nodded at the youngest woman in white.

  “Can you really help me?” he said. “Can you help me get him back?”

  “We will get him back and stop this madness,” Guardian X said. “Our Star-Commander has oversight of the fleet and will concentrate our resources upon Bestmarke.”

  “We will find Bestmarke’s ship,” VanDevere said. “He can only hide for so long.”

  “How can he hide his ship?” Martin said. “What kind of ship is it? He said it was a fast ship. Is it like a submarine? I was just in one room and my father didn’t have the chance to tell me anything.”

  The Star-Commander looked at Guardian X who gently interrupted. “You have many questions, Martin, and we need to start giving you the answers. First, let me briefly explain how you got here. Bestmarke has a star ship – a ship he can use in outer space. Bestmarke’s engineer has figured out time travel. He used his ship to travel back in time to the year 1975, captured you, and brought you back to our time, which is the year 475 of the New Victorian Age. The New Victorian Age started in 2065 of your era. You were captured five hundred and sixty five years ago, as you know it.”

  “Five hundred and sixty five years ago?” Martin said, starting to laugh. “Where are we, really?”

  “We are really five hundred and sixty five years in your future, Martin. We can show you our computer records clear back to your time, if you desire.”

  The room grew very quiet, only the fire could be heard. “Five hundred and sixty five years?” Martin finally said. “Really? You’re not kidding me, are you?”

  “Kidding you? That is an interesting expression,” Guardian X said, mildly amused. “No, we are not trying to mislead you, if that is what you mean. Bestmarke’s engineer, Louis Franelli, whom we now have in custody, used an anomaly, a strange occurring
oddity in space, as a portal back and forth through time. He alone has discovered how to harness it. If he will help us also understand its secrets, we hope to reverse the damage he and Bestmarke have done.”

  “Wow!” Martin said. “This is just like that space show we used to watch on television!”

  The Guardians and Officers looked at each other again.

  “Please, Martin,” Guardian X said. “Ask as many questions as you would like. You deserve to know the truth of this situation.”

  “Okay,” Martin said. “You all have a strange accent. Is this the way everyone talks now?”

  “Our speech has various dialects depending on what part of the Solar System we are from,” Guardian X said. “Our speech sounds normal to us while your speech sounds old-fashioned. It is common for language to gradually change over time.”

  Martin thought about this for a moment and seemed satisfied. He shifted his gaze to the Star-Commander. “Why do some of you have purple eyes? Bestmarke had purple eyes, too. Are you really aliens from another planet or is it some new kind of contact lenses?”

  “We are definitely not aliens,” VanDevere said. “We are all humans, originally from Planet Earth. We have not discovered life anywhere else in the galaxy – at least not yet. Some of us do come from other planets, though, because we now have cities inhabited by humans on the moon and Mars. We also have space stations throughout the Solar System.” She paused, letting this thought sink in. “Our purple eyes are from extended space travel. We create artificial gravity on our ships and the side affect is purple tinged eyes. It is harmless.”