Solomon's Arrow

by J. Dalton Jennings

  “Computer, show me Dr. Levin’s cell.”

  The image of Mona Levin reappeared on her view screen. The woman must be bored out of her mind, Katherine thought as she realized Mona was still humming that idiotic nursery rhyme.

  “Computer, activate the intercom in Dr. Levin’s cell. Perhaps she knows a way to disable the shuttle without doing it any harm. Dr. Levin …”

  She continued to hum, Row, Row, Row Your Boat.

  “Dr. Levin, I have a request of you.”

  Still no response.

  “Computer, is the sound turned off in Dr. Levin’s cell?”

  “No, Admiral.”

  Katherine was starting to become irritated. “Dr. Levin, this is an emergency! Please respond.”

  Mona continued to lie there with her hands behind her head, humming that blasted tune.

  Miller, the security officer, spoke up. “Sir, I sent a man to check on Dr. Levin. I’ve just been informed that she’s no longer in her cell.”

  “What?” Katherine yelped. “But I see her right there on my bloody screen! Damn it to hell! Computer! Answer me directly: is Dr. Levin currently in her cell?”

  “No, Admiral.”

  “Is she onboard the stolen shuttle?”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “That bitch!” Katherine was beside herself with fury. “Miller, fire the pulse cannon!”

  “Aye, Admir—”

  “Belay that order!” bellowed Dr. Singh.

  Furious, Katherine rounded on the arrogant asshole. “You have no right to countermand my order, Doctor. Now get off my bridge.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Admiral,” he insisted, standing his ground. “In fact, according to article 21 section A of the Arrow’s charter, I have every right to countermand your order.”

  “Article 21 section A? But that involves medical competency.” Katherine was in shock. How dare Singh question her mental fitness. “You’re overstepping your authority, Singh. After the ordeal you’ve been through, your confusion is understandable. But this is out of bounds, even for you.” Katherine contemptuously snorted. “Miller, exercise my previous order.”

  “Lt. Miller,” barked Singh, “you will do no such thing. I hereby invoke article 21 section A of international charter that commissioned this vessel. Admiral Katherine Axelrod, you are hereby relieved of command.”

  Katherine seethed. “What are you waiting for, Miller?”

  Miller’s eyes were locked on Singh. “In order to relieve the admiral of command, you must have proof of her incompetence. Do you have that proof, Doctor?”

  “Of course he doesn’t,” Katherine scoffed.

  “Check your SID, Lieutenant,” Singh advised sadly. “You’ll find a file from my department that explains everything.”

  Katherine was at her wit’s end. “You’re daft, Singh. What is this, some kind of power grab? Are you trying to take command of this ship?”

  “Far from it, Admiral,” he said. “According to the charter, it would be a direct conflict of interest for me to relieve you of command and then take command for myself. No, I believe the duty will fall to Commander Allison … if I understand the chain of command correctly.”

  Katherine laughed, which caused a look of concern to cross Singh’s face. “The commander’s under arrest in New Terra—for espionage. He’s in no position to assume command. On top of that, Lt. Commander Albans is dead; so you’re out of luck, Doc.”

  At first, Singh looked confused but then shrugged. “Not necessarily. From what I understand, you’re next in line, Lt. Norwood.”

  The communications officer gave him a hard-edged stare. “The only way that’ll happen is for your proof to pan out, Doctor.”

  Raising one eyebrow, Singh clasped his hands behind his back and attempted to suppress a smile. “Lt. Miller, have you completed the assessment of the aforementioned file?”

  He received no response. Singh and Katherine turned their attention to the young security officer. Miller was staring off into the distance, a look of disbelief written on his angular face.

  “Well, Miller?” Singh pressed, a note of worry entering his voice.

  Another couple of seconds passed before Miller replied. With a resigned shake of his head, he faced the admiral. “Under article 21 section A of the Arrow’s international charter … Admiral Axelrod, you are hereby relieved of command.”

  With her mouth hanging open in utter shock, Katherine stared blankly at the security officer, finding it difficult to process his statement. What effrontery! She was “The Battleaxe,” one of history’s most decorated military leaders—such a thing wasn’t supposed to happen to her.

  •

  Each long, purposeful stride took him closer to the dimly lit horizon. His mind was focused. The hiss of steam where his bare feet touched the ice was mere background noise. The bitter cold would’ve felled another man, but not him, not Bram Waters—his naked body was untouched by the frozen wasteland.

  Patches of bare ground were appearing more frequently, which told Bram he was almost clear of the planet’s ice sheet. He picked up his pace, running toward the group he sensed up ahead. Bram never questioned his footing, each step finding purchase on the ice without once threatening to slip. Ice turned to rocky ground then turned to soft soil. As he ran, his velocity increased to the point where, if seen from a distance, he would’ve appeared as merely a blur.

  Before the targeted group could register his presence, he was upon them. A flash of fists and feet; then all but one lay unconscious on the ground. The fourth member of the group stood with hands bound behind her back, screaming with fear. He came to a halt and the screams abruptly stopped.

  “Oh my god, Bram, how did you … what just … holy freaking shit!”

  Standing in front of a shell-shocked Gloria Muldoon, Bram glanced around at the creatures sprawled on the ground. He cocked his head. They were covered from head to toe in a woolly, almost thatch-like, substance. The same substance covered Gloria. She was barely recognizable, yet Bram was in no need of visual identification; he would’ve sensed her spirit if she’d been on the other side of the planet. As for the creatures, they weren’t creatures at all—they were human.

  “Um, Bram … why are you naked?”

  Looking down at his body, Bram felt a lack of shame, though he was somewhat surprised; his body appeared decades younger. The slight paunch he’d carried around for nearly twenty years was gone, replaced by clearly defined abdominal muscles.

  Mona noticed the difference as well. “You look … different.”

  “I feel different,” Bram replied, gazing into her dark eyes. “These men, did they hurt you?”

  “Not really,” she said, again assessing his body. “You must be freezing. How’d you end up way the hell out here in your birthday suit? And where’s Solomon? I thought the two of you were captured by the chancellor’s security guards?”

  “We were.” Bram was uncertain how much he should tell her. “As for the rest, it’s a long story—one that’ll have to wait. We need to return to the city as fast as possible. Our people are in trouble.”

  “OK, but you’re not gonna stroll into New Terra buck naked, are you?”

  Bram chuckled. “What about you? It looks like you’ve been wrestling with a tumbleweed.”

  “It looks like a gilly suit,” she replied, fiddling with the dry, furry grass covering her body. Noting his confusion, she explained: “A gilly suit is a type of military camouflage used to hide in underbrush.”

  “Mhm … from what I gather, these creatures use this camouflage during their travels back and forth from the forest to their homes, a network of tunnels located under the ice pack,” Bram said. “I sense their presence. They live austerely, scraping by on what remains of New Terra’s harvesting operations in the forest. For what it’s worth, they are as human as you or I.”

  Mona’s attention shifted back and forth from Bram to the unconscious men at her feet. “Do you think they’ll, uh … I mean, will
they, um, wake up soon? I’m sorry, Bram, but you need to cover yourself. Seeing you like this is very distracting.” Her eyes darted down to his crotch then quickly up to the sky. Her cheeks and neck were flushing a bright crimson.

  Bram sensed her building desire, which caused a reciprocal effect in his own body. When his member began to swell, a frown crossed his face. This was no time for sex.

  “You really need to cover yourself,” she reiterated, noticing his arousal. “Maybe you can use some of what these strange men are wearing to make a grass skirt or something.”

  Despite his curious lack of shame, Bram knew Mona was right; he couldn’t arrive in New Terra unclothed. A peculiar idea suddenly occurred to him, one he’d never imagined was feasible a few days earlier. Holding a picture of what he wanted to create in his mind, Bram shifted his attention to the material he needed and, in the space of a heartbeat, willed the item into existence.

  Mona staggered backward, her eyes wide with shock. “What the fuck?!”

  Bram was no longer nude. A pair of khaki shorts had appeared out of nowhere. One second he was naked and the next he was clothed. Judging by the distressed look on her face, he could tell Mona was overwhelmed by their sudden appearance.

  “I created them from some of the dried grass your captors were wearing,” he said, as though that was supposed to explain everything.

  “W-what are you?” Mona stammered. “How did you do that? Are you some sort of wizard?”

  Bram took a step closer, which caused Mona to back away. Her fear was palpable. Holding up both hands, he said, “I assure you, it’s not magic. I used my psychic powers. My mind has advanced to the point where I can now take one substance and transform it into another.”

  “Sounds like magic to me,” she said, warily.

  “I can see where you might think that,” Bram admitted. “However, you must trust me, Mona. What I did falls under the category of neuroscience. Humans are capable of astounding feats, most of which would take a lifetime to learn even for the most adept psychic. However, if placed under extreme duress, areas of a powerful psychic’s mind can awaken, allowing access to powers unfathomable to the average person—not that you’re average. It’s just that … I’m not doing a very good job of explaining this, am I?”

  Mona offered a tentative smile. “I think I get the gist of it.”

  One of the brutish-looking men began to stir, a low moan escaping his cracked lips.

  “They’ll be waking shortly,” Bram said. “Climb aboard my back and we’ll leave.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll be running, you’ll be riding,” he clarified. “It seems that my legs can now reach speeds that would make a racecar driver jealous.”

  One of Mona’s former captors rolled over to his side, lifted himself on one elbow, and began to shake his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs.

  “We need to leave,” Bram said as he grabbed hold of Mona’s hand and moved away from the strange group of men. Sensing that Mona was no longer frightened of him, Bram stopped a few feet away and bent over at the waist. Without further prompting, she climbed aboard, riding him piggyback style. She felt light as a feather.

  “Hold on tight,” he ordered. “We’re gonna be haulin’ ass.”

  With that, Bram broke into a trot. Seconds later, he picked up the pace, running and then speeding in the direction of New Terra. It wasn’t long before Mona’s former captors were left far behind, wondering whether they’d been attacked by a new kind of forest demon.

  •

  “Isn’t there any other way out of here?” Richard asked, staring irritably at the blank foldway.

  Lorna shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  Richard scanned the audience chamber hoping to spot a way out. His gaze stopped on the domed ceiling; it seemed as if the mural of the silver-haired goddess was peering down at him from the corner of her eye, in mocking amusement.

  “Sir, we only have so much time before the machine-mind sends a squad of Minders after us,” Floyd said. “We need a plan.”

  Lorna poked her finger in his chest. “Our God is not a machine,” she vehemently claimed.

  Richard’s heart swelled with pity. The New Terran people had been tricked into believing a lie designed to control the populace, developed by a cold, methodically intelligent machine. “Lt. Sullivant is right, Lorna. We have evidence proving your god is phony. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but—”

  “No! She speaks to me, Richard.” Lorna clutched her stomach, tormented by this revelation. “She can’t be fake, she simply can’t. I won’t believe it, I just won’t.”

  “The evidence is indisputable,” he snapped. Looking deeply into her eyes, Richard saw the hurt housed within and knew his words were killing a dream. “A transceiver was inserted into your brain during fetal development. The machine speaks with you by way of that device.”

  Lorna looked distraught. “But–but, if that’s true then … my entire life has been nothing but a cruel deception.”

  Richard was no longer capable of loathing the woman. It saddened him to think that she and the people of New Terra had been used as pawns in a twisted game of intergalactic conquest.

  “Sadly, you’re not the first person who’s been tricked by a lie,” he said. “The thing is, this lie is a helluva lot bigger than most. But we can’t dwell on that point right now, we need to devise an escape plan. Are you sure you can’t think of anything helpful?”

  Lorna pondered the question. “No, but my office is over there,” she said, pointing toward a set of curtains behind her throne. “We can barricade ourselves inside. That might give us more time to think of something.”

  While he and his crew followed her across the dais, Richard glanced at the foldway they used on their first visit to the Basilica of Knowledge. It was as blank as the large foldway they tried to access moments earlier. He wasn’t surprised.

  Upon entering Lorna’s office, Richard saw something that caused his spirits to soar: a set of double doors, each decorated with six ornate windows, positioned to allow the weak western light to filter into the office. Striding with great expectancy toward the doorway, he anxiously gripped the set’s doorknobs and flung them wide open, then stepped onto a balcony. When he gazed over the edge, however, his spirits sank like a lead balloon. The balcony looked upon New Terra from a height of two hundred feet. There was absolutely no way to climb down to the street below.

  •

  “What are you planning, Lorna?”

  Seeing Richard’s shoulders sink in defeat had caused Lorna to ache with longing. She was so focused on his disappointment upon realizing the balcony offered no escape that the Lord’s words gave her a fright. Being incapable of formulating a response that didn’t entail an outright lie, she blanked her thoughts, hoping the Lord’s attention would shift to other matters.

  “I fail to understand why you are helping the Earthlings, Lorna. Answer me.”

  A sharp stab of pain lanced through her skull. Clenching her teeth, she barely prevented a gasp from escaping her lips. The only outward sign she felt any pain was the grimace that flashed across her face. Luckily, the others were watching Richard, and her pain went unnoticed.

  “Answer my question, Lorna, or the next Pain of Compliance you feel will land you on the floor, screaming in agony.”

  Lorna’s eyes lost focus. “I’ve decided to help them. They aren’t bad people … they don’t deserve to be used, then discarded like so much trash, which is what you have in store for them.” Lorna heard the others in the room talking, but her conversation with the Lord took precedence, keeping her from focusing on their words.

  “So, you have made a unilateral decision, is that it?” The Lord’s voice flowed through her mind like a soft breeze. “Have you been corrupted by sentiment, by your emotional attachment to the dark man?”

  “Richard? Um—” Lorna paused. She had a decision to make. If she lied to the Lord, she would be admitting to herself that the v
oice in her mind was a machine and not the deity she’d worshipped all her life. Conversely, if she admitting the truth, the forgiving, loving God she’d always believed in might understand her motivation and spare Richard’s life. It pained her to think that she and everyone else in New Terra, living and dead, had been fooled by a machine. Her eyes sparkled with tears. Her faith was everything—she had to trust in the Lord’s generosity. “I–I’ve fallen in love with him, Lord.”

  “You are in love with him? But Lorna, love is a weakness, one which I have endeavored for the past twenty-five hundred years to breed out of the human race. It serves no purpose in the grand scheme of things.” She heard bitter disappointment color the Lord’s voice. “Your answer is unacceptable; therefore, you must make a choice between your love for him and your love for Me. One of us will bring you physical happiness, and the other will bestow everlasting joy.”

  The voices of Lorna’s companions had grown louder. Her attention began to waver as a loud pounding intruded upon her conversation with the Lord. Something was happening in her office. Richard and his shipmates were in trouble.

  “As much as I love you, Lord, and you know that I truly do …” Her heart was pounding, her decision made. “… I’m sorry, but I can’t live without Richard in my life.”

  The Lord’s voice sounded cold as ice. “So be it.”

  An intolerable lance of pain blasted through Lorna’s very being. The small cylindrical device installed in her brain during fetal gestation sent an induction signal to every section of her brain before shooting down her spinal column, activating all the nerves in her body. The pain was so pervasive, so overwhelmingly complete, that Lorna didn’t have time to voice a scream before her mind overloaded and she crumbled to the floor like a marionette whose strings were suddenly cut. After that, she felt no pain, no emotions, no sense of time—her synapses had shorted out, turning her brain to jelly.

  29

  Thirty seconds before Lorna’s death, Richard was busy with his shipmates lugging her heavy desk over to block the office door. Though it had gone unsaid, the four had made an agreement to die rather than return to the Room of Atonement—since they’d be tortured for information and put to death anyway. To make their last stand in Lorna’s office would be ironic, seeing as it sat at the heart of New Terra and its government.