The Euclidian: When Worlds Collide (uncut)

by Jay Cannon

  “Funny you should say that. Her white blood cell count has gone down, which is a good sign. It’s too soon to get excited though. If the trend continues I’ll have another CAT scan done on her.”

  “Dr. Turner, there’s a call for you,” said a nurse from the hallway.

  “Okay, I’ll be right there. You two be good. I hope to see you tomorrow.” Denise walked out to the nurse’s station to pick up the phone.

  “This is Dr. Turner.”

  “Hi, doc. When’s the last time you saw your brother?” said a raspy voice on the phone.

  “Who is this?” questioned Dr. Turner.

  “The name’s Louie. Let’s just say that I’m a business associate of your brother.”

  “Is he in trouble?”

  “That’s putting it mildly. He’s into me for about five grand.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Let me explain it to you,” said Louie. “Your junkie brother was trying to get some product off of one of my neighborhood distributors with no money. My employee goes to shoo him away and your brother grabs his bag and disappeared down an alley. We feel there was about three grand worth of product in the bag.”

  “So where’s the five thousand figure come from?” asked Dr. Turner with obvious annoyance in her voice.

  “Let’s just say it’s to cover the mental anguish from having to deal with the whole incident. Plus, it was a nice bag. You being a lady and all, you know how much a bag can set you back.”

  “I’m sure your dealers are not using Gucci bags to carry their drugs around in.”

  “Let’s be clear. My employees are distributors and they sell organic nutrients to the populace.”

  “Whatever. Where’s my brother?”

  “He’s sitting here on the floor next to me, awaiting sentencing. He’ll probably be executed in the morning for his transgressions. However, five thousand dollars could garner him a commuted sentence.”

  “I get it. I can have the money in a couple of hours. Where should I meet you?”

  “Meet us at Joey’s Diner on Eighteenth. Come around four o’clock. The diner’s closed then, but the door will be unlocked. And if you think this is a joke, just remember the guy they brought into emergency last night with his face shot off.”

  “Yeah, I heard about it.”

  “That was Bookhead. Something unlucky befell him due to his inability to understand the code of ethics under which we work down here. I would hate to see Jerome be so unlucky.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there,” said Dr. Turner, exasperated by this new bit of mess her brother had gotten her into.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Louie said and hung up the phone.

  Dr. Turner looked up to see the elevator doors closing on a perplexed looking Morgan

  CHAPTER 20

  ATTACKED BY A ZOMBIE

  Denise was deep in her phone conversation with Louie when Morgan had walked by. Her brother Jerome was a gifted pathologist with a Harvard medical degree. After graduating with honors he started his residency at the Mayo Clinic in the emergency ward. He wanted to learn as much as possible about helping distressed patients so he could be in a position to be most helpful to those in the greatest need, and the Mayo Clinic was the best place to hone his craft.

  Denise looked up to Jerome. He was the reason she became a doctor. Now she found herself spending way too much time bailing him out of jail or other entanglements.

  “She’s in trouble,” said Pico to Morgan through their bond.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The man on the phone told her to pay him five thousand dollars or he would kill her brother. Her brother stole something from the man.”

  “We have to help her. He’s liable to kill both of them once he gets the money.” Morgan raised his head to see Denise looking back at him as the elevator doors closed.

  Morgan sat on a bench outside the hospital.

  “Pico, are you recovering okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m feeling good as new again.”

  Morgan placed a fresh lemon over his hands and gave him another set of nails.

  “We need to figure out a way to help Denise. Tell me everything you heard.”

  Pico recounted everything he gleaned from Denise’s thoughts, excluding the flashback memories, grocery list, and why she kept putting off spending more time with James.

  “I have an idea,” said Morgan. “Are you able to animate someone who is dead?”

  “Somewhat,” replied Pico, not fully understanding the question.

  “Come on. Let’s head to the morgue.”

  ***

  “Margie,” Dr. Turner said to a nurse, “I need to drop by the bank and run some errands. I hope to be back by five.”

  “Okay, Dr. Turner. See you then.”

  Denise withdrew $5000 from her bank and headed over to Joey’s Diner. She arrived in front of the diner just after 4:00. She raised the SUV’s window, stepped out of the vehicle, and locked the door behind her. On the diner’s door was a “Closed” sign, but she tried the latch and the door swung open. The smell of grease from burgers, fries, and dogs hit her nostrils like a shotgun blast from a dumpster. The whir of ceiling fans could be heard over a jukebox playing sixties tunes. Marvin Gaye was singing “I Heard it Through the Grapevine”. The dust on the edges of the fan blades showed that cleaning was not the main focus of the proprietor.

  The diner was filled with booths with red vinyl bench seats. Barstools with the same red vinyl covering lined the counter. On the last stool sat Louie. Louie was a somewhat pudgy second-generation Italian American who stood about 5’9”. He wore blue jeans, a grey polo shirt, and a black blazer. On the floor behind him sat Jerome, looking frazzled, his face a bit bruised. To each side stood one of Louie’s lieutenants. Louie stood up as Dr. Turner approached.

  “You’re a little late, young lady,” said Louie with a smirk.

  “So I guess you’re not interested in the money?” replied Dr. Turner.

  “I didn’t say that. Speaking of which, let me see those dead presidents.”

  “Not so fast, Louie. I want to make sure Jerome is okay. That was the deal.”

  As the drama unfolded inside the diner, Morgan climbed out of the back of Denise’s SUV with Pico. Pico quickly shut down the car alarm as it sounded. Morgan went to the edge of the diner and peaked into the window. He watched as Denise squared off with the man across from her.

  “Jerome, go talk to your sister,” Louie ordered.

  Jerome pulled himself to his feet and staggered toward his sister.

  “Let’s do it now,” said Morgan to Pico through their connection.

  Jerome hugged his sister, “I’m okay, baby girl.”

  “Did they treat you okay?”

  “Sure. Just slapped me around a little bit. I could use a fix though.”

  “You can finish the family reunion later, you two. Right now I want my money,” said Louie.

  At that moment someone entered the door of the diner. As he slowly shuffled toward the counter it could be seen that his clothes were covered in blood and his face was disfigured from what appeared to have been a shotgun blast.

  “Hey buddy, we’re closed,” shouted Louie, not noticing the man’s disheveled condition.

  The figure kept walking toward Louie. Jerome and Denise moved aside to let the figure pass, horrified at the sight of his face.

  “That’s not possible,” shrieked Denise.

  “What the hell?” shouted Louie. “You’re supposed to be dead, Bookhead! Get the fuck out of here.”

  Bookhead continued to advance. Louie turned to his lieutenants who were standing at the back of the diner in shock. “Plug him, you two! What are you waiting for?”

  They reached for their guns. One fired a shot into Bookhead’s chest. Bookhead raised an arm in their direction and they flew up to the ceiling, banged their heads, and fell to the floor unconscious. Louie lunged for Bookhead but was quickly flipped in the air and p
inned on the table of a nearby booth. Bookhead leaned over him and as he did, one of his eyeballs fell out of its socket to swing over Louie’s face.

  Figure 8. Bookhead confronts Louie

  “Your reign of terror is over, Louie,” he heard Bookhead say. “You leave town and you leave town tonight. If you stick around or if anything happens to these people, I’ll find you and I’ll make you wish you had my pretty face.”

  “Okay, anything you say. Just don’t hurt me.”

  Denise and Jerome looked on in amazement. They didn’t hear a word coming from Bookhead.

  But Bookhead continued to speak to Louie. “Now let the couple know they can go, and you get the fuck out of here.”

  “Sure,” said Louie. He slid past Bookhead and stood up, then turned to Denise and Jerome. “You two can go. Just get out of here.”

  “What about the money?” Dr. Turner asked.

  “Keep it. Just go away.” Louie ran past the counter and into the back room and out the back door, leaving his two lieutenants knocked out on the floor.

  Denise hugged her brother. “Looks like we got lucky this time, Jerome. I’d even go as far as to say blessed.”

  “You got that right, little sis.”

  Bookhead fell to the floor and lay motionless.

  “Let’s get out of here, Jerome, before something else strange happens.”

  She turned to go and noticed a familiar looking head turning away at the window. By the time she reached the door, the figure was turning the corner at the end of the block.

  Gosh, that looked a lot like Morgan, she thought. She helped Jerome lay down in the back seat of the SUV.

  “I’m going to the hospital to get you looked after. What’s that smell?”

  “It could be me. I haven’t had a shower in a few days.”

  “No, this smells more like someone died in my car. Let me check the hatch real quick.”

  Denise went to the back of the SUV and raised the hatch door. The odor hit her nose and it was obvious that this was the origin of the smell. She made a quick survey of the area and noticed what appeared to be a blood splotch on the carpet. She wiped it with a tissue, which she folded and placed into her purse. She also noticed a nail in the hatch area. Being meticulous about cleanliness, Denise was certain that someone else had placed the nail there. She picked up the nail and looked at it and thought of Pico and the nails he was always holding.

  “Hey sis, are you coming?” yelled Jerome from the back seat.

  “Yeah, I’m coming. I’m just trying to figure out why my hatch has such an awful smell.”

  She climbed into the SUV and started it up.

  CHAPTER 21

  UAN

  Phoebe pulled out her UCD and pushed the alarm to wake Shisal. The captain stirred in his bed. She didn’t dare approach him to wake him up. That could cost a person an arm or a life.

  “Wake up, Chaell. It’s been six hours. You can’t sleep your life away,” coaxed Phoebe.

  “I’m up. Have breakfast with me and escort me to the bridge. I’ll just have something sent in. What about you?”

  “Sure, I’ll have something.”

  Shisal pressed a few buttons on his UCD and breakfast appeared on his dining room table. They sat and ate in silence.

  “I’m ready,” said Shisal. “Just walk me to the bridge, will ya?”

  “You know your paranoia is going to kill you before your crew does. The ship’s weapons systems are programmed to protect you, you know.”

  “Maybe some smartass learned how to get around the security and reprogram the weapons systems.”

  “Tampering with those systems can cause instant death. Who would risk that?”

  “A greedy bastard, that’s who.”

  They reached the bridge and its doors opened.

  “Captain on the bridge,” everyone shouted as they jumped to attention.

  “You have the bridge,” said the XO.

  “I have the bridge,” responded the captain. He turned to Phoebe and gave her a nod. She turned and disappeared down the corridor.

  “What’s our status, XO,” asked the captain.

  “The mining of the next two planets has commenced. We expect orbital decay to begin in about fifteen days. After that, we will have about forty-two days to continue mining before we risk being caught in the sun’s gravitational well. We will pass by one of the two planets left on this side of the sun during the operation. Mikael is in the mining command ship, monitoring operations, and will inform the mining officer when we will need to remove the mining vessels from the planets.”

  “What about risk to our ship?”

  “We are sufficiently far away to avoid any risk, but close enough to minimize material transfer time.”

  “Good work, XO. You may take your leave.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  ***

  Forty-eight days later, Captain Shisal was on the bridge, going over reports of the interviews from the spies that were recruited on Earth. Something about the UN ambassador jogged his memory.

  “Security,” he yelled, startling the occupants of the bridge.

  The security officer’s image appeared on a screen in the communication panel. “Yes, captain.”

  “Whatever happened to that creature that escaped to the inhabited planet?”

  “We sent a security guard after it, but he was discovered and came back before it could be recaptured or killed.”

  “So what’s the plan to retrieve it?”

  “It’s a very small creature, sir, and is unlikely to survive in that hostile environment.”

  “It seemed to survive just fine on this ship,” replied the captain angrily.

  “This ship isn’t that hostile,” the security officer responded, unaware of the impact of his reply.

  “Really?” Shisal pushed a few buttons on his console and the security officer materialized on the bridge. The captain grabbed him by the chest, dragged him to the floor, and started pounding on his head with his fist. “Does this seem hostile to you?”

  The captain sat down in his chair, pushed some controls, and an energy beam disintegrated the security officer except for his feet, which were still lodged in his boots. The captain shouted into his console, “Security? Who’s in charge down there?”

  “You just killed him, sir,” said a voice from the security office.

  “Is that so? Well, now you’re in charge. Come up here, get these damn feet off the bridge, and then get me that alien.”

  The captain was remembering a time when he was a crewmember on a run years ago. The captain had sent a spy to reconnoiter a planet. The spy was discovered and the planet’s inhabitants learned of the impending invasion. Though they were no match for the invasion force, they poisoned the planet with some sort of chemical, making it unminable. The company lost months of work and a huge investment. The captain lost his commission and retired with less than what he needed to live comfortably. He was currently working a salvage dump on his home planet. Captain Shisal wasn’t going to let that happen to him.

  The captain’s thoughts were interrupted when the new security officer materialized before him.

  “Take these feet and place them at your station. If you drop the ball on this little project it’ll be your feet that someone else will be carrying around. Use Uan for this project. He’ll get the job done. I need this taken care of cleanly, quickly, and discreetly.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  Aboard the Andrea, Uan trained fighters and on rare occasions got to practice his skills on prisoners, sometimes to the point of killing them. Most prisoners were sold for profit and thus were too valuable to kill. At times, though, there was a prisoner who was just troublesome. That’s when Uan got an opportunity to work out his frustrations.

  Uan was a being from the Ossuary System. The Ossie race lived a tribal existence. They had elements of high intelligence but had never evolved an advanced civilization. When off-world settlers attempted to provide technology, the O
ssies resisted violently. They killed the settlers, took their weapons, and destroyed every building and piece of technology.

  Ossies could cloak themselves, using some sort of mental energy field, for as long as fifteen minutes before suffering brain fatigue. One could stand right in front of one of a cloaked Ossie and even touch it without registering its presence. Ossies could also distort the light reflecting from their bodies to make them look like grey blurs to any monitoring devices. Because of the randomness of the distortion, in combat it was difficult to target the beings.

  Many combat forces had lost troops by trying to fire on Ossies that had infiltrated their camp or vessel. They would sneak aboard a spaceship via a shuttle or other mechanism and take the ship out, killing themselves along with the crew. Suicide had no negative connotation for the Ossies, nor did they waste any effort thinking about what harm might come to them while taking out an enemy. They picked a target and went after it without any concern for their own safety. There was no pre-kill conversation, bargaining, or negotiation with a target. They enjoyed the kill. That was their passion, and their weakness.

  The Ossies had no natural predators, and they were smart enough not to have hunted the other animals, their main source of food, into extinction. Ossies weren’t farmers, gatherers, or herders. They were hunters, full stop.

  The Euclidians considered Ossuary to have military importance because of its location in its galaxy. It could be used as an outpost to warn of possible attacks on their own solar system, so it was crucial to work out an agreement with them. Eventually they found something to offer the Ossies that aligned with their own interests: being assassins. They were given the opportunity to serve as elite law enforcement units on newly settled planets. The Ossies agreed to the arrangement and even permitted small settlements to be built on their planet. In return they were permitted to kill violent criminals with impunity. Their favorite duty was going into enemy camps and killing all its inhabitants with their weapon of choice, the short spear. They competed against each other to see who could get the most kills in the shortest amount of time. Not for trophies. Just to prove they could do it. This competition sometimes caused them to take too many chances and get themselves killed.