Legion's Riddle Trilogy Box Set

by K R Sanford

The ensign adjusted his ear piece. “We're reading faint energy signatures emanating from light particles. It's not enough to support the kind of visual we're looking at here, sir.”

  “Then it's not real?” said Bradley.

  “Our instruments are not detecting science we understand, sir,” replied the ensign.

  Bradley chattered his teeth and made a clucking sound. “Track it until we find out what's with that visual,” he ordered. “Follow that star system. Send in a probe. No, no, send a dozen probes and be quick about it. Get me Admiral Shrub and tell him to leave one ship behind in case this is a trick. Leave no star unturned. I have a feeling Miller is in that mess somewhere.”

  The flagship and heavy cruiser reversed course. They give chase. The pursuit reached warp speed. The warships narrowed on the clocked ship.

  “There, you see, Doctor Stokes, it's only a matter of time.” Bradley patted his knuckles and pushed out his chubby lips.

  He turned when a boy in a white steward's uniform placed a serving tray on his table. The tray held several tall crystal goblets filled with a bubbly beverage. The boy smiled and bowed. Bradley looked at the boy. He poked his tongue in and out of his mouth. He lifted his index finger and said, “Care to indulge, Doctor Stokes?” He reached for a goblet and lifted it to himself.

  Stokes raised his head. He eyed the young man. “Yes, I could do for some beverage.” He drew out the words as he took the goblet from the tray. His eyes glared lifeless at the steward.

  The Ensign stepped forward and reported, “Excuse me, Commissioner. The star system has disappeared.”

  “And the energy source?” replied Bradley. “Are you following that?”

  “There's no trace of them anywhere, sir,” replied the Ensign. “They've vanished.”

  “What!” cried Bradley? “Find them!”

  “Their ship must have a cloaking device,” replied the Ensign. “It's the only explanation.”

  Bradley scratched his chin. “A cloaking device, ah; very clever, and there's no trace, you say?”

  “No, sir,” replied the Ensign. “No trace at all.”

  Bradley raised his eyebrows. “Expand the search,” he screamed. “Dead or alive, I want that device!”

  Bradley turned to the young steward and set the goblet on the tray. The boy smiled as Bradley offered a wink. He pulled himself from the map table. He escorted the young steward out of the map room. He left Stokes holding his drink beside the Ensign.

  * * * *

  “I can't hold it any longer!” said Clorissa.

  Sparks danced over the hologram platform. Again, Hector through his arms over his face. “You could have warned me,” he cried. “Reset the breaker, hurry!”

  “In a huff she thrust her leg over the top of Hector's curled up body and stomped after the magnavator.

  Grantham looked down at Hector struggling to his feet. He shook his head. “What say we go with her? I'm curious to find out what's going on.”

  “No,” replied Hector, looking over the pieces of the broken projector. “You go ahead. I need to clean this mess up.”

  “You sure, Hector?” said Grantham. “The Captain might be hurt.”

  “Well, if he is, he'll be with that obnoxious cyber program in the infirmary. No, thank you. You go ahead.” Hector waved him on then began reassembling the pieces of the broken projector.

  * * * *

  “Help me get him in the infirmary,” said Ryan.

  The white physician's staff and wings illuminated the wall. The door hissed and slid open. Devin and Ryan set the Captain on the examination table. A ceramic-beige medi-pal stepped out dressed in a Hawaiian aloha shirt. It wore crisp white shorts and sandals. Devin jumped and Ryan laughed. “That's a drone.”

  The robot arched its neck in offence to Ryan's description. “Excuse me, I'm MT-Nine. I will be your human medibot technician for today.”

  “Wonderful,” said Ryan.

  MT-Nine held its index finger and thumb in an effeminate pose. “I see we have a patient,” it continued. “Please stand back until I assess, then I will ask for you.”

  Devin cocked his head to one side; he couldn't tell if the MT-Nine was male or female. He leaned into Ryan and posed the question.

  “Both,” whispered Ryan. “It's an eclectic autobot.” He held up a hand and said, “Never mind right now, Your Majesty, I'll explain later.”

  Devin and Ryan stepped away from the examination table and watched. The Hawaiian medibot perform a scan from head to foot. MT-Nine paused after completing the scan.

  “Captain Miller will need some rest,” he said. “He has sustained a slight head injury as well as the broken tibia. I will wrap the leg and administer a sedative. That should keep him down for several hours at least.”

  MT-Nine administered the treatment to Marco's leg.

  Devin turned to Ryan and asked, “Who's in charge of the bridge?”

  “Our people are on their way,” said Ryan. We will all meet there right now. Please, with me.”

  Clorissa and Grantham stepped out of the magnavator and walked onto the bridge. They looked around. Seeing Elsinor and Lucia seated at Hector's systems console, inquired.

  “Who's flying the ship?” said Clorissa continuing to her station. She checked the ship's course, made minor adjustments then took her seat. Turning to Elsinor and Lucia, she inquired further, “What went on in here, ladies?”

  Elsinor put her hand to the side of her face and gasped, “Oh, it was horrible, completely horrible.”

  “Now we're getting someplace,” replied Clorissa. “You don't know how difficult it's been for me to talk to anyone aboard this ship.”

  Grantham's mouth fell open. He stood while the ladies helped each other through their experience. He walked into the magnavator and waited inside. He smiled for an awkward moment then tapped the sensor on the icon tile and shut the door.

  C H A P T E R 12

  _______________________________

  THE VISION

  “You comfortable, Marco?” asked Ryan.

  Marco pulled up the covers and slunk back against his pillows. His bedchamber framed his pale face and half open eyes. He replied, slurring his words, “I'll be all right. You go ahead with the meeting.”

  Ryan, responding to Marco's medicated state. “Okay everyone, here it is. If we don't take the device offline soon, our supply of tantalum crystals will deplete. That means we'll be without our shields and some of our life support.”

  “We will be visible to attack,” said Hector.

  “He's right,” replied Ryan. “Plus, we'll need the device online again if we're going to make it to the Island Planet. The only thing we've got going for us is our speed and the element of surprise.”

  “If it's the only way then,” chimed Clorissa. “We'll take the device offline and keep running. But, if we're caught out here alone, let’s everyone understand, we won't get taken prisoner. They will torture and executed us. Bradley's faction wants our heads as well as the cloaking device.”

  Clorissa stood tall beside Grantham and Ryan. Marco lay back, admiring his fellow travelers form into a cohesive unit.

  “What are you going to do, Marco?” asked Ryan.

  Marco threw up his hands. “I guess I'll stay right here. How can I go anywhere like this?”

  “Then it's settled,” said Hector. “Commander, you'll temporally be Commander. And Clorissa,” Hector stuck his finger within an inch of her nose.

  Clorissa turned to Marco, ignoring Hector's mockery. “Captain, everything will be all right. Try to get some rest.”

  “Thank you everyone for coming. You all better get back to the bridge. The Eagle doesn't like being alone and there's a lot of work to do.”

  The ship's company began removing themselves from Marco's quarters. Lady Lucia loitered in front of the paintings on the wall.

  “Just a minute, Hector,” said Marco. “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Sure buddy,” replied Hector. “What's up?”
>
  “Double check the apparatus on my weapons cradle,” said Marco. “And make sure it's tied into my station on the bridge. If I'm in my quarters alone, you know if we come under attack. I'd hate to get caught without putting up a fight.”

  “Hey, I'm on it, man, not to worry,” replied Hector. “A good gun is hard to find out here. Besides, these weapons are state-of-the-art. If you liked the cross-caster, you're gonna love this monster.”

  “Okay,” replied Marco with droopy eyes. “One more thing: did you reposition the hologram back the way it was? I'd like to go down later and try to relax if I can.”

  “Sure,” replied Hector. “I have the platform cleaned up and ready for your next diversion. You can take Lucia with you. Take a moonlit walk along the beach or watch the sunset at the end of Paradise Pier.”

  “Okay, Hector,” said Marco. “Thank you. I wanted to know if it’s put back the way it was.”

  Hector raised a hand. “You're all set.”

  Lucia reached out to Hector. “Thank you, Hector. That was very nice.”

  “Well, okay,” replied Hector. “I'll leave you two, if you will excuse me.”

  “Thank you, Hector,” said Marco.

  Hector gave a knowing grin and he went out the door.

  Lucia turned to Marco. Marco offered her the chair at the foot of his bed.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable,” he said.

  “I was looking at the Ghost Painting on the wall.” she replied.

  “Oh yes,” he said. “It’s said the painting has a life of its own. The artist captured a landscape that reflects the state of mind of the observer.”

  “We worried about you for a while.” She pulled her hair away from her slender neck and smiled.

  Marco studied her elegant features and said. “That’s very considerate. The thing is; you need to recognize the painting is an entity to mirror your subconscious.”

  Lucia gave a slight nod. “Ah ha, when you are feeling better you can show me. I wanted to talk about when you passed out.”

  “Ah, yes,” he replied, pulling himself up in his bed. “I guess I haven't thanked you for saving my life.”

  “You weren't going to die,” said Lucia.

  “We are very grateful, very grateful indeed. If it wasn't for your bravery under unusual circumstances, we may not have come out of the wormhole alive. We are all in your debt, and I thank you.”

  “Captain,” said Lucia with a puzzled look on her face. “I don't know what to say. At my ranch we care for many animals, and I dare say we've had a rider or two fall, brave warriors. We've had to survive wars and disasters. Most Vallians can cool a fever, draw a virus from the blood or set bones. Our remedies are simple enough. We use things like herbs, medicines and natural treatments.”

  “I understand,” replied Marco. “I lived with Balrug for a season.”

  “There is still a lot we need to learn from you,” said Lucia, “as well as the Amedans and now the Marillians. Captain, we want to survive, as do the Marillians. We live on the same planet. We share the same air, the same water and soil. We want to have children; so do they. I hope you can appreciate this. You see, Marco, I'm not so sure you have tied yourself to this moment in time. And, if l may be so bold, I'm not convinced you see your destiny.”

  Marco stared into a haze. He felt a tingling sensation run down his spine. His heart was pounding. He looked into Lucia's green eyes. They were beautiful and noble. Her skin was white like the lily, her lips simple with the color of rose. Her body was slender, almost frail, and her poise and grace was of a lady. It was small wonder she was best friends with the King and Queen. “It's hard to imagine you riding that chestnut stallion.”

  “That's Charindil. What's wrong with him?” she asked.

  “Well, nothing,” he said.

  “He's not a wild animal,” replied Lucia. “He is a mystic and an ancient spirit. He has the feet of the Vallian lineage.”

  “I'm sorry, Lucia,” pleaded Marco. “I'm a little dizzy. Our damn medibot, that is, I'm under too much medication.”

  Lucia stood to her feet. She put her hand on Marco's shoulder. “Marco, how rude of me,” she said. “I have distressed you; all this talk of our people and horses. You should be resting, not debating, and I should be leaving. Thank you for your kindness.” Lucia turned and scurried for the door. She turned one last time. “Marco, I hope I can leave you with this thought: This moment in time is like a thread that binds us all together.” The door hissed and she was gone.

  Lucia left before Marco had the chance to offer her a drink. He sat up. He swung his feet to the floor. He grabbed the crutches next to his bed and slogged across his stateroom. He slipped out his chamber door and went into the corridor. The corridor was empty. No one was in sight. He looked both ways, still no one. The corner of his lip turned up a grin. He raised his eyebrows with the promise of intrigue. The thrill of mischief on his own ship gave him an irresistible sensation of adolescence. It intoxicated his head with the twisted lure of immaturity. He laughed out loud and bit his lip. He gripped his crutches tighter.

  His crutches, possessing the soft rubber feet of a cat, and with only socks on his feet, he calculated. He could sneak to the stairwell and walk down the back way to the hologram platform. There, he was free from detection, and no one would be the wiser. After all, everyone would be expecting him to be resting in his quarters. No one could know his escapade as long as he kept quiet. He could secure the door and program the holograph projector for a secret rendezvous.

  Marco, aroused by the thought, glided down the hallway. He rounded the corner beside the magnavator and pushed back the door. Being ever so quiet, he eased himself into the stairwell. He pulled the door closed until he heard the latch seal click. He set the soft rubber feet of his crutches down on the first step and followed with one step of his own. Then, as he went on to the second step, he applied the same process as before. He moved to the third step then to the next. He went on, step by step until he descended two full decks.

  The descent was easier than he thought. Now, he had only one more deck to hologram platform. He got distracted for taking his eye off the rubber footpad. It was only a fraction of a second. He caught by the edge of the metal step. His hand slipped on his crutch and it turned him sideways. He threw the crutches out in front of him. He began grabbing at the wall. It was hopeless. There was nothing to grab to. He was clutching thin air. His body flew on the hard metal steps eight feet below. He tried to brace himself as he hit. The edges of the steps stopped him flat. His hands and arms folded underneath him. He rolled on the edges of the steps until he stopped. His head was against the bulkhead. Marco felt a pain searing at the back of his head. A sharp sting ripped across his right eye. He sucked a coppery taste off his tongue. He knew he had broken something but he did not know what. He brought his hand around to feel the damage to his right eye. His hand was shaking. Skin tore from his knuckles. He touched the goose egg on the back of his head. He brushed his thumb against the injured eye. He brought it back around and saw blood. A stitch or two and it would be fine, he thought. His hand was shaking. He lay upside down on the deck with the gray foam cast on his leg staring back at him. He contemplated his precarious predicament. He looked back up the stairwell at the light stabbing him in the face. He burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. He rolled over in a state of shock and checked his legs. His pant leg tore, his knee bruised, and his shin had a six-inch scrape. He reached for his crutches. The shock was wearing off and he pulled himself to his feet. He slid open the door to the hologram platform and hobbled inside.

  Marco felt a sickness in his stomach. He turned on the light to the simulator and thought he was no longer feeling like a rendezvous with anyone. He might have to explain the coppery taste in his mouth or the tore bloody knee.

  “Well, I could say I'm shipwrecked,” he thought. “That would do it Ah,” he groaned. The trauma of his fall woke him from his lapse of reason.

  “What am I
doing down here? I'm not tied to my ship! The crew are not mine. They are a group of forthright beings, willing to make up the difference for my weak performance. And me, I'm not taking care of myself. Lucia is right. I'm not tied to this moment in time. But what does that mean?”

  Marco's brow began to sweat. He placed a program cube in the simulator. The hologram platform activated. He stepped away from the simulator. He watched the holographic simulation fill the platform with the cinematic illusion. The platform changed to wooden planks. Beyond the planks, sand stretched out to cliffs in the distance. The cliffs edged up to a grassy hilltop. On the hilltop appeared a cluster of trees surrounding a glass enclosed pyramid.

  Marco walked along the planks to Paradise Pier. He followed the nightlights to the end of a row of quaint shops and restaurants. He could hear the sounds of sea lions barking below. Large ocean swells rolled through the barnacle-encrusted pilings. The waves broke behind him. Foam hissed as it ran on shore. At the base of the cliffs, waves thundered on the rocks, sending spray into the moonlight.

  Marco looked out into the clear night sky. He soaked in the sights and sounds, and the smell of seaweed and the salt sea air. He contemplated his journey, a passage through the endless stars. At that moment, at that instant his crutch began to slide out along the railing of the pier. He tried to take a short hop on his good leg but his knee jammed against the post. He cried out in pain. He clutched the top of the rail. He looked at his hands and saw he placed them in a squat of pigeon dung. He shook his head. He tried to center himself but anger welled up inside him. He looked around at the drama unfolding in the cove. He took a look at himself clutching pigeon dung. He was standing alone with his cuts and scrapes, his bruises and his broken leg. He looked up to the swath of stars across the midnight sky and he called out in a blinding rage:

  “If the thread that binds is so, let it be without a doubt!”

  Fuming from his nostrils at his thoughts,

  his jaw was set.

  His eyes flamed red of burning coals that cut broad paths through the black of the night.