The Simpleton QUEST

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “Got it!” Jackie, now up on her feet, was triumphant. Firing the energy rifle, she’d taken out one of the security bots. What little remained of it crashed down onto the deck several feet before Cuddy. Eight bots were still on the attack. Marzon too was down for the count. They were clearly losing the battle.

  A series of metallic clicks sounded behind Cuddy. One of the large glass panels was sliding upward. Seeming impossible, Tony, Kyle, and Spilor were yelling; beckoning everyone to hurry inside.

  Cuddy scooped up Haffan in one arm as he managed to climb to his feet. With his free arm, he got a good grasp on Calph then noticed much of his robe had turned to burnt cinders or ash.

  Jackie, standing at the open glass panel, fired her weapon non-stop. “Get inside!” she barked.

  Staggering, mostly due to his thigh injuries, Cuddy still managed to heft the weight of both the Pashier child and the old Howsh, and made it safely inside. Kyle, now beside him, helped him lower to the floor, while Tony, back outside, was trying to drag Marzon’s bulk. Like trying to move a mountain, Brian appeared at Tony’s side and helped him. Oh…now Brian helps out…

  The glass panel ever so slowly began to close. The last few security bots ceased firing the moment everyone was safely inside the building. Although that didn’t seem to make much sense to Cuddy, he wasn’t about to argue with their good fortune.

  While Spilor attended to Calph, the old Howsh glared at Cuddy, then said, “I told you not to take action. Now two Howsh are dead and there are injuries. It did not have to go down that way.”

  Cuddy, glancing at Jackie, had seen the same expression on her face before. Oh no…

  “Hey…someone needed to do something!” With fists on hips, she took a step toward Calph. “If you hadn’t noticed, your robot was being demolished. Maybe if you grew a pair, things could have turned out better. But if it weren’t for Cuddy, and that robot you evidently were willing to sacrifice, we’d all be dead. You need to get something clear in your head. We’re not built to be spectators…I think you’ll find that a common trait among this group of humans.”

  Calph stared up at her for several moments when a bemused smile crossed his lips. “I suppose you are right. I apologize.” Then he narrowed his eyes, “Are your injuries serious?”

  Haffan answered for him. “He’ll be just fine. He’s tough.”

  “And you, young sprout…were you struck by any weapon fire?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good, then we need to keep going.” Spilor helped him rise to his feet. Limping over to Brian and Tony, he knelt next to Marzon. From where Cuddy rested, he could see a pretty nasty-looking scorch mark alongside the big Howsh’s neck.

  Standing, Calph asked, “Any of you have medical training?”

  “I do,” Jackie said. Slipping the pack from her shoulders, she took Brian’s place by Marzon’s side.

  Cuddy telepathically asked Brian, What happened to you? I thought you were going to help fend off the bots?

  Brian gave Cuddy a sideways glance before responding: At that point it was just the robot being roughed up a bit. I wasn’t about to risk life and limb over a damn robot…especially one none of us likes. And then the bot exploded and I was hit in the head…with something.

  Helping Marzon to his feet, he teetered a bit and then nodded. “I am fine. Where is my weapon?”

  Jackie retrieved it from where she’d placed it against a nearby wall. “Here you go. It’s a nice gun.”

  He stared at her with something akin to admiration. “Thank you.”

  Spilor said, “We have less than an hour before the Dubon enters orbit.” The robot’s already strange gate was now further encumbered with a decided limp.

  Cuddy hoped their destination wasn’t far. All three—Calph, Spilor, and himself— were only barely ambulatory.

  Jackie asked, “Hey…how did you guys get that glass panel opened? You know, you saved our lives.”

  Tony said, “It was Spilor. We saw the robot crawling along the other side of the building and figured we should do something too, instead of just standing around unarmed and getting shot at. We helped Spilor up and he led us to an alcove. We watched him open a small access panel and, like he did with that security bot, put his arms right inside it…and soon a door opened. Once we were inside, the robot knew where to go to open up the big glass panel.”

  “So where to now?” Brian turned to Calph.

  “We follow Spilor…the robot knows the way to the Vaults of Calirah.”

  Chapter 27

  Seven years earlier…

  Cuddy sat quietly as the old Rambler ambled down one country road after another. Slatch was a channel changer—his fingers spinning the tuning dial, sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right—nearly non-stop. Although he seemed to prefer country music, he’d listen to a Beatle’s song, or some other band Cuddy couldn’t remember the name of.

  “Are we almost there, Slatch?”

  “You just asked me that, boy.”

  “What did you say when I asked you?”

  “I told you soon…we just need to get up on I-24 going west. From there, it’s a straight shot up to Music City.” Noting Cuddy’s confused expression, Slatch added, “Nashville…where your pa lives.”

  “Oh yeah…he’s going to be excited to see me. I’m going to tell him about all the things he’s missed. Like all but two of the chickens are dead. I think we used to have a lot more of them. And Momma sometimes works in town, putting books back on the shelves in the Library. And that the A&W closed down, due to not enough people coming around.”

  Slatch held up a palm.” You can tell him all that stuff when you see him.”

  But Cuddy was already distracted, noticing the rear seat was empty. “Where’s Rufus? I don’t go anywhere without Rufus!”

  The dog is fine…back at the farm. Hey, does your ma ever talk about things…like when she and your pa were young? She ever mention me?”

  “No, why would she?”

  “Because we were friends…the three of us. Oh, forget it. Never mind.”

  As country music continued to play on the radio, Slatch repeatedly opened and closed his window, spitting out then fiddling with the dial some more.

  The car started making a strange noise. Slatch raised his chin and stared out the front windshield, peering down the car’s hood, like he was trying to communicate directly with the old engine beneath it. “Ah shit!” Slatch murmured.

  “What’s that whistling?”

  Slatch didn’t answer. Instead, he turned the volume up on the radio. Glancing over at Cuddy, he pointed to the dial, “Johnny Cash. Folsom Prison Blues…I bet your pa knows this song…knows it real well.”

  Cuddy listened to the catchy melody—a song about a train rollin’ along and a guy sitting in jail. “Is my pa a criminal?”

  “Nah…forget I said anything. I’m sure he’s on the straight-and-narrow these past few years.”

  “I have to pee.”

  “Can’t you hold it for another fifteen or twenty minutes?”

  “I think I’ve already held it that long.”

  “There’s no place to stop…no bathrooms handy.”

  “A tree will do me just fine. Pull up over there. Maybe then you can check under the hood too.”

  “I don’t need to check under there. I know what that sound is…it comes and goes.”

  “If you say so. I still need to pee. Come on…pull over, I’ll be quick.”

  Grudgingly, Slatch slowly turned the steering wheel and the old Rambler moved off the main highway onto a dirt and gravel side road. Cuddy threw open the door and ran down a sloping hill toward a crop of tall pines some thirty yards away. Selecting the first big tree he came to, he relieved his bladder within seconds. In the distance, he heard the constant hiss of cars speeding along the highway. Then wrrrrr. Whatever was going on beneath the hood of the Rambler sounded a whole lot worse. Zipping up, Cuddy turned to head back, then suddenly stopped short. Another car was pulled in be
hind the Rambler. A cop. Flashing red lights on the patrol car’s light bar gave Cuddy pause. Was Slatch in trouble? Was there a problem with the noisy engine? He weighed whether to join Slatch and the policeman or just stay put. He didn’t think peeing on a tree was any big crime but wasn’t completely sure about that either. He decided to wait a spell. As the seconds ticked by, Cuddy’s short-term memory began to evaporate. Confused, he looked about his surroundings—the tall trees, the wet puddle at the trunk of a nearby pine, the sounds of fast-moving cars in the near-distance. Spotting the mud-colored Rambler, Cuddy recollected he’d been in that car before. As he tried to remember, he silently cursed. Just like he’d done a thousand times in the past. Irritated at his inability to recall what’d he’d been doing only ten-minutes before. Well, standing here in the trees ain’t gonna’ do me no good at all, he mused.

  Cuddy walked toward the highway then suddenly cringed, hearing the same awful screeching noise. Up ahead, on the embankment, a police car was backing up. Throwing rocks and dirt into the air, its tires spinning, the cruiser sped away. Cuddy reached the Rambler and saw the old farmer—his head buried beneath the car’s open hood. Slatch looked up when he saw Cuddy. “Best we be going, boy. Seems you’re the center of a big commotion. And before you ask…I’m Slatch. You’re on your way to see your pa in Nashville and your stupid dog is back home on the farm. Now get in the car!”

  Chapter 28

  Present day…

  As the old Howsh limped along up ahead, Cuddy enviously eyed Calph’s sturdy staff. With each step forward, his own legs throbbed from the two energy bolts that struck him earlier. But observing the still out of it Marzon, who’d taken a direct shot to the head—or even Spilor, violently thrashed about at the hands of an out-of-control security bot—Cuddy reckoned he had little to complain about. He supposed things could be a whole lot worse for him physically.

  Not knowing what to expect, once inside the structure, he found an abundance of bright light coming in from the outside. Glass panels surrounded them, and overgrown plants, shrubbery—even out of control tall trees—gave the place a lush greenhouse feel.

  According to Spilor, currently gimping along at Cuddy’s side, Calirah was a cross between a museum and a Hall of Records. Before the war, although the site was open to the public, Howsh and Pashier visitors were never present on the grounds at the same time. Even the few regular employees working there, whether Howsh or Pashier, weren’t scheduled to work on the same days. And even though the Pashier had been exterminated, on the nearby planet of Mahli, few Howsh officials ever visited Calirah. It wasn’t uncommon to be accosted there. Over the years, deaths had racked up into the hundreds at the hands of the protective security bots. It was assumed that one of the last acts of the Pashier, prior to their near total demise, was to program certain safeguards into the security bots—ones that would help keep Calirah safe from plunder.

  Spilor, gesturing toward another empty walk-up counter, said, “I remember…years ago…hundreds would come here every day. Both species were highly academic. Education was paramount. And as you’ll soon see, experiential education was what brought so many parents and their young offspring to Calirah.”

  “I don’t remember ever coming here,” Haffan said, walking beside Jackie, a few paces behind them.

  Cuddy was aware that she’d been listening to their conversation. The Pashier child didn’t miss much—was always absorbing. Again—an interesting contrast to what he was like at the same age.

  “You weren’t born yet, when this place was open to everyone,” Jackie said.

  “If I were…could I have found out more about my relatives?” Haffan asked.

  It then occurred to Cuddy that Haffan hadn’t yet spoken of her parents, or any family members, prior to her being left all alone back on Mahli. He wondered if it was because it was simply too painful to go there, or due to some other, still unexpressed, reason.

  “And not just records pertaining to the Pashier…or the Howsh,” Spilor said, now projecting outward a facial expression showing both interest and patience, “but other alien life forms also, with records pertaining to their own species. Even humans are chronicled here…as they relate to the Prophesy of Harkstrong.”

  Cuddy heard the sound of water dripping, emanating from a low, long planter to his right containing an automated drip-watering system. Wide, shiny-leaved, plants spilled over onto the walkway.

  Calph stopped up ahead then turned to face the group, one sleeve of his robe burnt away. “We are about to leave the administration section of this structure. As we descend to the lower levels, security will undoubtedly tighten. Perhaps more bots, perhaps other security measures. Stay alert. We must find what we came for, then leave this place quickly.” He turned and focused his attention back on Spilor.

  Cuddy and the others approached an open vestibule section in the shape of a square. Four stairways, one at each corner, provided access down to the lower levels. Standing by a thick, glass-like banister, Cuddy noted what looked like a courtyard five levels below them, while the tops of no less than twenty immense trees almost touched the glass panel ceiling, thirty or forty feet above his head. What happens when those trees outgrow this place? He eyed the stairway—around and around it went. Hundreds—maybe thousands—of steps, leading upward.

  Jackie, joining him, commented, “You’d think such an advanced society would have installed a few elevators. Right?” She glanced down at his legs. “I’ve been watching you. Your limping’s gotten worse.”

  “Hurts just to watch you walk,” Brian added, standing several yards away at the banister. “Hey, Spilor…how many levels down are we going?”

  Looking annoyed at their being interrupted, Calph replied, “All the way to the ground level,” then continued his conversation with Spilor in hushed tones.

  “Go stand at the top of the stairs, man,” Brian said.

  “Me?” Cuddy asked.

  “Yeah you…chop chop, before I change my mind.”

  Cuddy exchanged glances with both Jackie and Haffan, who smiled at Cuddy’s mistrust of the situation. Walking to the stairway, he heard Brian coming up behind him.

  “Keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times…” Brian said, laughing at his own humor. Cuddy then felt his body being gently lifted several inches off the walkway. Unconsciously, he continued to walk—placing one suspended foot in front of the other. Moving out over the top steps down he went, keeping a good foot or so above the next descending step. Brian stayed close beside him, taking the steps two at a time. Looking over his shoulder, Cuddy noticed Jackie and Haffan close behind them. Soon, the others, including Spilor and Calph, were also following them down.

  “If you get tired, you can always put me down…” Cuddy said, feeling somewhat guilty for the special treatment he was receiving. But the truth was, he would have had a near impossible time maneuvering down that many steps on his own. Kyle and Tony kept throwing verbal jabs at him, but Cuddy wasn’t listening to them. Instead, he focused on the trees—on the surrounding architecture. A beautiful complex, it was a shame no one visited there anymore—that the ravages of war had, once again, ruined such a positive thing. Cuddy’s musings turned back to what Brian was currently achieving—lifting, and propelling forward a man six-foot-five and two hundred-and-twenty pounds of dead weight. He wondered how Brian had perfected his TK abilities so much more effectively than he himself had. Wondered if he had squandered away similar abilities. Hadn’t given them the time and attention necessary that Brian had. He remembered something Tow had once told him. “Your telekinesis gift must be exercised…strengthened. Your potential capabilities go far beyond that of any Pashier…even those of Brian.”

  “Brian spent more time within the wellness chamber…a lot more,” Cuddy had reminded him.

  “You radiate source power, Cuddy. So does Brian…but yours is on a whole other level. If you were interested, you could do…be more.”

  At the time, Cuddy didn’t know how to inter
pret his comments. Was it an insult? Had he just been told he was an underachiever? If so, he hadn’t cared at that moment. Why didn’t I? They’d reached the second to last level, now descending the final flight of stairs. Why hadn’t I cared? Do I care now? Yes, I think I do.

  Cuddy felt himself lowered to the ground. Once back on his feet, the pain in his thighs quickly returned. Brian stepped off the last step—his face red from exertion as beads of sweat ran tracks down his cheeks.

  “Thank you, Brian. I’ll have to return the favor one day.”

  “You? I won’t hold my breath. Best you leave the heavy lifting to those that…well…can.”

  Smiling broadly, both Jackie and Haffan seemed impressed by Brian’s latest TK feat. He gave Jackie a quick wink and let Haffan give him a high five. Cuddy had never been particularly competitive; had little concept what that spirit was all about. But something had changed, because right then all he could think about was how to out-TK Brian.

  “This way, humans…we must hurry,” Calph said.

  Chapter 29

  Lorgue Supreme Eminence Calph tapped his staff at a point near his feet. “As you can see…we are standing upon solid, uneven, rock. Understand, this whole complex is built directly upon sacred ground, where 8,000 years of combined history are chronicled…conserved within subterranean vaults.”

  “The Howsh, they’re from Rahin…” Cuddy reasoned.

  Calph waited for a question.

  “And the Pashier’s home is Mahli. So why is everything chronicled here? And why together?”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Kyle said.

  “Not always have our two species been at war. Certainly, a turbulent relationship did exist. But it has always been clear that both existences were linked…intertwined. When this complex was first built, it was hoped it would bring forth a new era of unification.”

  “Guess things didn’t turn out that way,” Kyle muttered.