by GARY DARBY
“No kidding,” TJ declared, “would’ve saved us a whole lot of grief.”
Dason stared at the XTs with hard but puzzled eyes. “It would appear that what we’re doing, or about to do, has caught their attention. There must be something behind one of these doors that they don’t want us to see.”
He turned and pointed toward the nearest hatchway. “Especially when we got close that particular hatch. Let’s see what’s behind the mystery door.”
Reaching out, he and passed his hand across a tiny aperture set to one side of the doorway.
The hatch slid aside, and Dason entered the room, followed by Alena and Shanon. In the center of an otherwise empty chamber sat a large, silver hemisphere.
Upon closer inspection, Alena called over to Dason, “There’s a fine line bisecting this thing. I think it’s meant to open. There must be something inside.”
Dason examined the half-globe a little closer and found what he was looking for. He turned and called out, “Bring the Mongans in here.”
With a not-so-light shove, Jadar pushed the Mongans into the room. Dason paced over to inspect their neck rings before going back to the hemisphere.
In the same sequence as the dominant Mongan’s ring structure, he pressed on the small indentations that he found centered just above the base.
As he pressed the last one, the two halves snapped back into the base. Inside sat a large cube of a purplish granite-looking substance. “What is that?” Shanon asked.
Jadar took one look and pronounced with a hint of amazement in his voice, “I know exactly what it is. That is a solid block of Kolomite.”
“You can tell just by looking at it?” Alena asked.
“Yes,” Jadar answered. “There’s no doubt, whatsoever.”
“Yowee,” Sami yelped. “That’s a lot of Kolomite. How much would that be worth on the Luna Free Market?”
Nase asked in a dry voice, “What Free Market? The Imperium is gone, remember?”
“Okay, okay,” Sami retorted, “in that case, how much on the Luna ‘Not So Free Market’?”
“A better question, Sami,” Dason replied, “is what do the Mongans intend to do with it?”
“I doubt seriously if they intend to sell it on any market,” Shanon declared.
“I agree,” Dason replied. “In the meantime, keep looking. We need to find the translator room.” He motioned to the Mongans. “I suspect that they only way we’re going to find out is through them.”
The group trooped back out into the passageway and a few minutes later, Sami called out, “I think I found it.”
One look at the high-backed metal chair, the Mongan devices lying on the dull gray tables that lined the room, and Dason knew that Sami was indeed correct. He marched over to one side, and within seconds, found what he was looking for—the Mongan translator device.
He held the headpiece in his hand staring at the needle-sharp prongs, remembering the pain from the last time. Shanon, seeing his hesitation, came over and murmured, “Are you still sure about this, Dason? Alena told me what you went through before.”
Dason blew out a long breath and gave her a quick half smile. “Not really, but it’s got to be done, especially after what we just found.”
He strode over to the Mongans and held the device out. He pointed at it and then pointed to his head, his meaning unmistakably clear.
For a second, the Mongans stared at him, an indifferent expression on their faces before they began to speak to each other. For several seconds, their birdsong clicks filled the room.
Then one of the Mongans walked over to the translator device, adjusted the machine, came back, took the headpiece from Dason’s hand, and as before, slammed it into the side of Dason’s head.
Jadar sprang forward to level his L-gun at the Mongan as Dason bent over from the initial pain. “Don’t,” Dason gasped to Jadar, “I’m okay.”
“You sure don’t look okay,” Jadar answered gruffly.
From overhead, the clicks and chirps of the Mongan language sounded in the compartment as the device translated Dason’s comments into the Mongan tongue.
Dason straightened, wiped at the blood that seeped down the side of his cheek and spoke to the three Mongans. “You seek Sharers of Memories. Among my people, I am the Master Sharer of Memories. From me, you would get a richness of memories such as you have never experienced before.”
He gestured toward Jadar. “With me, you do not need a collection device such as he wears. Instead, we can join and share directly. But what I would share with you comes at a price.”
For long moments, the Mongans only stared, not speaking until the one that had applied the device to Dason’s head stepped forward. “The People do not negotiate with a Kurang dai—”
“Stop!” Dason roared in a thunderous voice.
The Mongans recoiled and took several steps back.
Dason’s voice was hard, menacing. “Do not call us nothing. We have life. We have value. We have worth! Call us Kurang dai again, and so help me, I will throw you to your devil dogs. Do you understand?”
The Mongans stared with open eyes and mouths before the triad’s dominant Mongan spoke in a hesitant voice, “What would you have us call you?”
In an excited voice, Sami asked, “Hey, what did he say after you told them to close their traps and not insult us?”
“He wants to know how they should address me,” Dason answered.
“Tell him to call you ‘The Great One, Lord of all—”
“Not now, Sami,” Dason replied.
He turned to the Mongan. “Call me Scout Thorne. Now, do you wish to enrich your life by sharing memories or not?”
“Your price . . . Scout Thorne?” the Mongan asked.
Dason pointed toward Jadar again. “You planted a device in his head. You will remove it without harming him in any way.”
The Mongan walked over to Jadar and studied his neck for a few seconds. He turned impassive eyes to Dason. “It can be done.”
Dason moved so that he could face Jadar and smiled. “They can remove the device without hurting you.”
Jadar took a deep breath and replied, “That’s great news, thanks.”
Dason turned back to the Mongan and asked, “Have you implanted such a device in others?”
“Yes, what of it?” the Mongan replied and blinked several times.
“I want to know the locations of all those that have implanted devices,” Dason decreed. “Every single one of them and before I share my memories with you.”
The Mongan stared at Dason, his face expressionless for several moments before saying, “How do we know that you will do as you offer?”
“Because I am a Star Scout officer,” Dason stated firmly. “And we keep our word and our promises. If you keep your word, on my honor, I will keep mine. You can have my memories.”
Dason and the Mongan stared at each other for long seconds before the alien said, “We agree with one condition. You will spare our lives and set us free.”
Dason considered the Mongan’s demand for several moments before he gave a curt nod. “Agreed. But if you try and trick us, or fail in your part of the bargain . . .”
He left the implied threat hanging in the air to let the Mongans contemplate what their fate might be.
The alien turned and went to one of the console-looking tables. After a few seconds, he turned and gestured toward Dason. “Here,” he stated.
“Nase, Sami,” Dason ordered, “keep your weapons trained on those two. First sign that something’s wrong, don’t hesitate, put’em down, and the other one, too.”
With Nase and Sami standing guard, everyone else followed Dason over to where the Mongan stood waiting. The XT turned and pressed several times on the console’s flat surface.
A large holographic sphere filled the room, expanding until it almost touched ceiling and floor. Tiny pinpoints of light started popping inside the sphere, faster and faster until Dason felt as though he were inside a bursting fir
eworks display.
After one final shower of dazzling lights, the lights steadied and became still.
Dason turned in a full circle, his mouth agape at the hundreds of stars that sparkled inside the sphere. “Dason,” Shanon gasped in an incredulous voice, “this must cover at least half of our galactic spiral arm. They can’t be doing this just to humans.”
Dason turned to the Mongan and asked, “Each of these star systems has at least one being with a mind device?”
“It is so,” the Mongan replied.
“Are they all similar in appearance to us?”
“No,” the Mongan replied as if that explained everything.
Dason turned to the others. “You’re right, it is more than just humans. This encompasses other sentient races.”
Stinneli spoke in an excited voice, “If that’s right, do you realize what this is? This is a star map to other extraterrestrial worlds, other alien civilizations.”
“He’s absolutely right,” Alena affirmed. “We’ve got to record this, somehow get it to General Rosberg.”
Nase stepped forward and swept an arm upward at the ceiling. “How do we know this is factual? This may be nothing but their version of a star chart for all we know. What proof do we have that they're truthful?”
Several seconds of silence ensued as the scouts exchanged uneasy glances among themselves. “I guess we don’t,” Alena replied in a blunt voice. “But, what choice do we have?”
“I have an idea,” Jadar said to Dason. “You told them that we would spare their lives and set them free, right? Now say to them that we’re going to leave them on this planet and go looking for our people in those planetary systems. If we don’t find them, we’ll be back, and their lives will be forfeit for deceiving us.”
Sami clapped Jadar on the back. “Uncle Jadar, I like the way you think, especially with these characters.”
Dason shook his head slowly at the two. “Yes, it’s a good idea, but I think I have a better one.” He paused before a little gleam came to his eyes, “One that will really get their attention.”
Turn to the Mongan, he pointed at the hologram. “We will take this and search for the others with the mind devices. If you have lied to us and we do not find them . . .”
He turned to motion toward the two Mongans who stood just inside the doorway. “I will take those two and leave you alone on the planet below. Completely, utterly alone.
“And having seen one of you alone before, I know and you know what that means. You will have life, but you will be dead. And you will never, ever, be able to share memories, again.”
The Mongan stared at Dason and for the first time, Dason saw fear in its eyes. The alien turned and ran its slender fingers over the console.
In an instant, the sphere erupted with new stars until the whole ball seemed engorged and infused with waves of rippling, sparkling light.
The scouts could only stare in awe. The scene was stunning, overwhelming, and close to incomprehensible. No one could speak until Dason stammered, “This must encompass our whole galactic arm.”
“And then some,” Jadar returned. “Incredible and terrifying at the same time that they have done this to so many people, and not just humans.”
Dason turned and ordered, “TJ, Shanon, get your mini-cams out.”
He stepped forward and for a moment felt as if he were swimming in a shimmering pool of stars. He pointed to one star that was bigger and brighter than all the other pinpoints of light.
“I’m guessing, but from the location and proximity of surrounding stars, I think this may be Deneb. Use it as your center point and lay out a grid from there.”
The Mongan came up next to Dason and stated, “We have done our part.” He stood in an expectant manner, his eyes centered on Dason.
“You’ve done your first part, now take the device out of his head,” Dason commanded and pointed at Jadar.
The Mongan hesitated before beckoning to the other aliens. “Come, sisters.”
The dominant Mongan went to the chair and pressed several points, causing it to fold out flat. He turned to Dason and motioned to the level table. “Have it lie here, face down.”
“Uncle Jadar,” Dason explained, “they want you to lie down face first on the table. Doctor Stinneli, this is your cue.”
A moment later, Jadar sat on the table facing Dason. “You still okay with this?” Dason asked.
Jadar took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, but we better get going before I lose my nerve.” He settled himself, with his face jutting into a small aperture at the table’s head.
The Mongans busied themselves gathering several implements before they grouped themselves around the table. Stinneli took out a micro air gun from his kit and pressed the tip against Jadar’s neck.
“This will make you sleepy,” he murmured to Jadar, “but you won’t lose full consciousness. If the pain gets too intense, I’ll give you something stronger.”
Dason gestured at Jadar, his hard eyes matching his voice as he spoke to the Mongans. “He’s ready, begin.”
Less than thirty minutes later, Stinneli held up a tiny, oblong cube for Dason to see. A dozen hairlike threads streamed from one side and two small pincer claws jutted out from the other side.
“I have to admit,” Stinneli commented with an air of professional respect, “absolutely amazing technology. It clamps onto the spine’s first vertebra, and these threads pass up the spinal cord and into the brain.
“Until I can take it apart, I have no idea what powers it, nor how it stores memories, or—”
“Doctor,” Dason asked hastily, “what about my uncle?”
“Sorry,” Stinneli replied quickly, “he’s doing fine. Vital signs are stable; brain waves are normal.
“He’ll be drowsy for a few more minutes before he completely wakes up. The surgical wound is quite small, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he wakes up with a severe headache.”
The three Mongans came around the table to stare at Dason, their body language stating the obvious. “I guess it’s my turn.” Dason sighed.
The Mongans brought out a second chair for Dason and with a quick squeeze of Shanon’s hand, he sat down.
The Mongans raised the seat but did not clamp Dason’s arms down as before. He willingly held out his hand as the Mongans put themselves in their back-to-back position.
Seconds later, the three aliens linked themselves together, and a fleshy tentacle snaked its way toward Dason’s finger. Knowing what was coming, his hand trembled, and Dason had to fight an overwhelming desire to whip his finger away.
Knowing what was at stake, Dason tightened his jaw and forced his hand not to move even as eyes widened. His breathing quickened as the appendage touched him and . . .
The blackness seemed to hold Dason forever until he heard as if from far away, “Dason . . . Dason . . .”
He struggled to fight his way out of the overwhelming darkness that pressed down on his mind in an unbending and immovable weight. With one last effort, he pushed the shadow away and consciousness returned like a vicious jolt to his mind.
Dason sat straight up, gasping for breath. He struggled to speak before he was able to spit out, “We’ve got to get out of here, now.”
Shanon held Dason’s shoulders in a tight grip and asked anxiously, “Dason, are you all right?”
He swallowed before rasping, “Yes, but we’ve got to leave, now.”
“Dason,” Shanon asked intently, “What is it? What did you see?”
Dason looked around in a wild fashion. Standing in a semicircle, peering at him with concerned expressions were the scouts, and off to one side stood the Mongans, who stared with their cold, impassive eyes.
Pushing himself off the table, he stomped toward the aliens.
He stabbed a finger at the XTs and in a fierce, accusing voice declared, “I know why they have that Kolomite.”
He whirled around to the scouts. “And those two ships that left the system? They’re loaded
with Kolomite as well, and so are dozens and dozens more that are headed to the nebula or are already there. Doctor Stinneli, do you think you can drive this tub?”
Stinneli gave a quick nod, “I believe so.”
“Good,” Dason replied before he turned to the group. “We’ve got to get out of here and sound the alarm. We’ve got to contact General Rosberg and Elder Tor’al.”
His eyes were stone-hard. “Once before in the images I saw what they planned to do, and I didn’t understand it. Now I do, and it’s far, far, worse than any of us could ever imagine.”
“What, Dason?” Shanon implored. “What did you see?”
His eyes blazed; his voice a snarl. “The end of our world . . . our galaxy.”
Chapter Ten
Star date: 2443.114
Aboard the INS IntrepidX, near the Sarpens System
Peering at the two asteroids that lay just off the Intrepid’s bow, General Rosberg begrudgingly offered, “I admit that they resemble the two that hit Alpha Ryujin, though I’m not totally sure why we have to have lookalikes.”
“Better safe than sorry, general,” Shar Tuul replied.
Rosberg grunted and turned to Shar. “Compared to this idea of yours,” he muttered, “riding a comet bareback without a P-suit would be saner. I have to admit, when you first proposed this I thought you were nuts.
“But, after agreeing to it, I began to wonder who’s more looney, the guy with the idea, or the guy who goes along with the notion?”
Shar shrugged in response. “A penetrating, philosophical question, sir, and one, when we have time, I would gladly sit down and debate with you.”
“Right,” Rosberg returned and rubbed stubby fingers over his jaw. He turned to Captain Federov and asked, “Now that we have two likely candidates, what does your chief engineer say?”
“He and my chief boatswain’s mate have been working on a plan,” Federov replied. “The initial numbers look good, but as you might suspect, there are some, uh, interesting challenges.”
“Go on,” Rosberg prompted, “I’m listening.”
“Well,” Federov replied with a little grimace, “it’s not feasible to use the Intrepid to push or pull those things, but our landing craft corvettes should be able to ramp up enough newtons to get both of them moving.