Vengeance of Sukesh: John Mason (Legend of John Mason)

by Barbara J Robertson

  He conducted interviews of each crewman and construction supervisor working on Mars X. The Joint Chiefs wanted their physical, mental, and psychological state evaluated by their “intuitive investigator,” Mason. He was the best at reading between the lines of someone’s psychological condition. Mason recognized every body language sign, each “tell;” even the slightest nuance could reveal a test subject’s true commitment to purpose, loyalty, and trustworthiness. Each answer was evaluated during their recorded interview. Their retinas were continually scanned during the interview while the chair sensors measured the test subject’s heart rate, breathing rate, and several other body metrics designed to break through the subject’s natural defensive mechanisms.

  Those chairs were not nearly as sophisticated as the analysis chairs Mason and Captain Hanson were strapped into at their testimony before the Joint Chiefs. These chairs were designed to look like comfy office chairs, their analytics and sensors undetectable by the test subjects. Mason smiled; Captain Hanson knew the purpose of that chair. She defiantly laid her arms wrist down on either chair arm, and sat fully back in the chair, for a more complete reading. She had nothing to hide from anyone; not any more.

  Mason would clear some crew and officers to return to Mars X immediately; others, he would conduct follow-up interviews to dig deeper into their psyche and persona. Only two crewmen failed and were transported to Earth the same day.

  The Joint Chiefs wanted the most trustworthy and loyal personnel working on Mars X. Mason was not told the Big Secret, not yet. He would be told when they felt he needed to know. Then, they’d probably ship him there, Mason realized. He was fine with not knowing for now.

  Mason stopped at 6p.m. and went for a workout in the gym. He ran for eight kilometers before his workout, and discovered martial arts bots in the gym’s back room. He sparred with one for twenty rounds, and went for a robotic massage. Then he went to his room, slapped the button for his bunk drawer bed, and was just lying down, when his comm link beeped.

  “Captain Mason, this is Colonel Tyrone. Sorry about the lateness of my call. You are to receive an initial briefing on the discovery at Mars X at 0-eight hundred hours tomorrow. Do not go to your interview rooms first. You are to report directly to the base Intelligence Officer, Lt. Commander Schmidt. All information and any subsequent conversation with Schmidt are strictly confidential, TS3. Tyrone out.”

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Mason said vehemently, aloud. If you know, you go. He decided to stay up and finish his written evaluations, preparing for the news tomorrow morning.

  Mason sat in the dark theatre inside the Intelligence section, waiting for Lt. Commander Schmidt. He wondered what their game was; Intelligence knew he was a Prime Marine, with bionic eyes, and could see in the dark. Just get on with it. Schmidt came in with another officer and sat behind Mason. “Begin!” Schmidt said to someone.

  He was looking at a subterranean tunnel, tall, wide, and concrete-fortified. A quad track headed down an unlit part of the tunnel to a very large vault door. The lock wheel was one meter across. The huge door slowly opened into a vast chamber with vaulted ceilings and strange drawings all over the walls and ceilings, with text and figures Mason had never seen before. The wall and ceiling space was covered in these drawings and texts, and the chamber continued for what seemed an eighth kilometer or so. The only light came from the quad track’s headlight.

  The drawings came together at the back of the chamber, as if they sprouted from there and progressed the length of the tunnel. The quad track stopped and the cameraman got out and walked to the start of the texts. But the floor of the chamber did not touch the back of the wall. Rather, the floor stopped about half a meter from the wall, and showed another chamber directly below that one. Steps to the left led down one level to another chamber, pitch black.

  Lights automatically came on in the chamber, and glass drawers and cabinets stood in neat rows, as far as the eye could see. The cameraman walked to the end of the cabinet, and pulled out a very long thin drawer. It contained frozen, small, labeled test tube-like storage containers. Forceps picked up a test tube and held it aloft. It looked empty, but was not. The tube was labeled in strange writing and appeared to contain only a single strand, silvery white, about 10 centimeters long.

  DNA. Mason recognized the coded key on the label. It was a DNA bank. But whose? How old was it? Who collected and stored all these samples? The cameraman walked to his left for some time, past more clear glass cabinets, and entered another chamber. Row upon row of crystals, perfectly stored and aligned were standing in slots all along the vast walls. The crystals were various colors and sizes, all very logically arranged. The remainder of the room was more glass cabinets and drawers.

  “A library? And a DNA storage site?” Mason asked aloud.

  “A Hall of Records, Captain Mason. We have translated the title you will shortly see,” Lt. Commander Schmidt quietly said. The back of the room featured large symbols in a spiral, the same three symbols repeating over and over from the inside of the spiral outwards. They were unintelligible. “We have translated them as Akashic Records,” Schmidt said.

  “Give me a break, Lt. Commander Schmidt. The Akashic Records have been talked about from every psychic medium and counter-culture weirdo since ancient times. They are a myth. Your translation must be incorrect, sir,” Mason said in disbelief.

  “I didn’t believe it either, Captain Mason. Thought it was a media trick, like the rock formation that looks like a face. But this is different, entirely different. Every myth has some fact in its basis, after all.”

  “What’s on the crystals?” Mason asked, trying to get some real information.

  “We cannot read most of them, but the black ones activate upon touch. We think it is the history of our solar system and the Milky Way Galaxy, the history of all our species. The history of man,” he said quietly.

  “Man only goes back a million years or so, according to the anthropology books,” Mason offered. “Isn’t someone reading too much into those crystals?”

  “Man is much older. Man’s common ancestors are hundreds of millions of years older than he is. All history will have to be re-written, if the contents of these crystals are made public,” the Lt. Commander said.

  “Who put these crystals here? For what purpose? And, if you cannot read the crystals, how do you know this?” Mason demanded.

  “I don’t know. We know so little, and can read so little of the texts. But for now, this information is to be kept top secret. ‘Eyes Only’, Captain Mason,” Schmidt said.

  “Why tell me then? Why show me all this, sir?” Mason asked abruptly.

  “Because the Yellow Man told us to tell you, Captain Mason. He wants these records, too. He has already attempted to scan them, but the ONE’s scanners cannot penetrate the upper chamber’s ceiling. Neither can ours, for that matter,” Lt. Commander Schmidt replied.

  “Is that all, Lt. Commander Schmidt?” Mason stood to leave, disbelieving everything.

  “Not quite. Follow me, Captain Mason.” He left with Mason, through a long corridor to his office. He tapped his vid-com and shut his door. “Lt. Commander Schmidt reporting, Admiral.”

  It was Admiral Worthington. “Captain Mason, have you seen the recording?”

  Mason snapped to attention. “Yes, Admiral Worthington. Just now.”

  “Why would the Yellow Man instruct Schmidt to show it to you?”

  Mason replied, “I honestly have no idea, sir.”

  “Very few know of this chamber’s existence. We cannot read the text on most of the crystals or on the test tube labeling. We can’t even play the crystals; but some play by themselves. We are concerned as to why he wanted you specifically to see this, Mason.” His brow furrowed.

  “Admiral Worthington, you saw the recording I sent you previously, sir. Perhaps he is still trying the “Father of a new species” gambit. I really don’t know, sir. I don’t believe they are ‘Akashic Records,’ sir. Not at all,” Mason defended.


  “You will return to Earth immediately, Captain Mason, then appear in our hall for an interview. Worthington out!”

  Mason went to the BOQ to pack out. He called the hangar to ready his fighter for immediate flight to Houston. Great. Here comes another session in the analysis chair.

  The flight home was smooth and uneventful. Mason notified Rachel he was on his way home, and she was overjoyed. “That’s wonderful, John! Come straight home, whatever time you get in. Just buzz me. I’ll wait up for you.” At least somebody wants to see me, and not brand me as a spy or a traitor, Mason thought. He arrived home around 9p.m., and was greeted by Rachel’s loving arms and her kisses. For a while, he forgot all about the situation he found himself mired in. The next day, he told her about his upcoming appointment.

  “Not sure when they’ll call me, but I have to appear before the Joint Chiefs in their hall again,” he told her, dejected. “Any chance of an escort, Admiral? I could use a little encouragement and support.” She wanted to know why, but he was not permitted to tell her.

  “Then let me know what time your appointment is and I’ll go with you, John. Whatever it is, we will get through this, together,” she said decisively.

  “Lunch? At the O-Club?” He asked.

  “I’d love it, John. 11:30,” she said. “Victor, come along, son.” He took his Mommy’s hand and they left for the day.

  Mason unpacked and went for a run, and followed with his kung fu routine. He cleaned up and dressed in uniform, and left early. He walked the entire way to Earth Command Central, consumed in thought, wondering why the Yellow Man asked for him specifically. It put an unwelcomed spotlight on him, thrusting him into a position of questionable loyalty. Would the Joint Chiefs trust him anymore? Would anyone trust him? Would Admiral Mason?

  Perhaps the Yellow Man decided the only way to get him to Father his new species was to discredit him, alienating him from his superiors and peers, and maybe even his own family. He was in a tight spot. Why did the Joint Chiefs always assume he was guilty?

  Admiral Mason arrived at the O-Club, and they got a booth in the back, where they could eat and talk in peace. She looked at him. “I have to ask: did you do something wrong, John?”

  “No, I did not. But that didn’t stop them before, did it? Anyway, all I can do is be truthful, honest, and cooperative. They’ll probably put me in the hot seat again,” he said quietly.

  “Hot seat?” she asked.

  “The analysis chair. They strapped restraints on my head, chest, arms, and legs during my testimony with Captain Hanson. Her, too. At least this time I won’t have a large coffee beforehand!” He laughed. She knew he had been strapped into that chair at his testimony; she was a secret observer. And still, she obeyed orders, and never told him about it.

  They finished lunch, and Mason walked her to the lobby, and then walked home. He stopped at a market along the way to buy something to fix for dinner. As he stopped to look at the meats, he caught a man’s reflection in the window. The same man having lunch across from them at the O-Club. He was being followed.

  Mason casually ignored the man in the Space Forces uniform in the window, and ordered a large chateaubriand for dinner, and a few scallops for appetizer. He chose a pre-made fresh Caesar salad, and fresh bread. He paid for everything and left. Well, let him follow him, then. Pretty lousy surveillance tactics.

  He went inside the house, changed into shorts and tank top, and marinated the beef. He went to get the grill ready. Rachel usually came home between 5:30 and 6p.m. every night. The strange man was still outside, watching him. Mason took his picture for reference.

  Mason was ordered to appear before the Joint Chiefs at thirteen hundred hours tomorrow. He sent a copy of the message to Admiral Mason. They were probably monitoring that, too. He got the coals ready and hot. He heard her and Victor come in, and went to greet them.

  “John, there’s a man hanging around outside. Have you seen him?” She asked, very anxious and worried.

  Following him all day was one thing; scaring his pregnant wife was another. Mason went outside and confronted the Lieutenant. “You’ve just frightened my wife. What’s your problem?”

  “You are, Captain Mason,” he answered.

  “You followed me all day. Why show yourself now?” Mason demanded, pissed off.

  “I was ordered to follow you, Captain Mason. But I think you are innocent. I feel it’s my duty to tell you they’re going to arrest and incarcerate you tomorrow, the minute you set foot in the lobby. They think you’ve turned traitor, Captain Mason. You know what they do to traitors, Captain. They’ll interrogate and torture you, and hang you in the square in the main yard. Your wife will be dishonored and forced to divorce you, and abort your baby. Or they’ll get her, too.”

  “This is outrageous! I’ve done nothing! Nothing!” Mason screamed. “I am no traitor! I capture and kill traitors! I loathe them! Why is this happening to me? What is your name?”

  “John, what’s all this about?” Rachel asked, standing inside the doorway. She heard everything.

  “He is being set up, Admiral Mason. I had to tell him.” He left, running fast as he could.

  “John? Let’s call Admiral Worthington. Right now!” She went inside and called the Admiral on his private comm-link with Mason. She told him about the man outside her door, and the conversation she overheard.

  “I think it is my right to know what is going on, Admiral Worthington. My husband is no traitor, and neither am I. Why is he to be arrested and incarcerated tomorrow?” She demanded.

  “No one has been assigned to follow Captain Mason, Admiral Mason. We have asked him to appear before the Joint Chiefs regarding a classified matter. There are no plans to arrest him upon his arrival, or to incarcerate him,” the Admiral said.

  “Admiral Worthington, that man sat across from Admiral Mason and me while we ate lunch today at the O-Club. He followed me as I walked home from base, and when I stopped at the market. He has been here all afternoon, watching me,” Mason stated.

  “What is his name?”

  “No name badge, sir. But I took his picture. May I send it to you now?” Mason asked.

  “Absolutely. There is something very wrong here, Mason. Very wrong,” the Admiral said. They watched him looking at the officer. His eyebrows went up. “Both of you meet me in my office at ten hundred tomorrow. Worthington out.”

  Mason barbecued dinner and ate his “last meal.” He and Rachel felt a strong urgency in their lovemaking, feeling he could be taken from her forever, unjustly. They both said prayers, each silently asking for justice and truth, and praying they could stay together always.

  Mason was not arrested the minute he walked into the lobby, but he and Admiral Mason were immediately escorted directly to Admiral Worthington’s private office. The man had obviously been up all night. He called for the Commandant to join them; another set of bloodshot eyes. “Captain Mason, the man who was following you has been missing for several months, assumed AWOL. His name does not matter. What does matter is what he said to you. Admiral Mason, did he see you listening as he talked with your husband?”

  “He had to. I was standing in my front doorway, in full view of him,” she answered.

  “And he even involved you, stating you would be dishonored, forced to divorce Captain Mason, and your baby would be aborted?” Worthington asked.

  “Yes, he did. It was horrifying, Admiral.” Her eyes were blazing.

  “I’m very sorry you were forced to go through that exchange, Admiral Mason. There is something much larger at work here, I’m afraid. The late Admiral Tomiko brought it to our attention, as did your late husband, while Captain of the Hesperia. But there was no proof. Until now,” Admiral Worthington stated. “You knew it too, Mason, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. Captain Baines and I communicated primarily with pen and paper the last year on the ship. Then immediately incinerated our notes,” Mason admitted. “We all knew, Admiral Worthington.”

 
; The Commandant suggested, “I think we should show Admiral Mason the Mars X recording now.” Worthington put the recording on his vid screen. She watched in amazement.

  “This is on Mars? At Mars X? I hope the chamber has been sealed, and is under guard, Commandant, Admiral,” she advised.

  “Yes, it is. This recording was made the day of the initial discovery. No unprotected person has gone down there again, just robo cams and droids. The cameraman is in quarantine indefinitely,” he summed.

  “I fail to see what this incredible discovery has to do with Captain Mason,” she said, getting back to the point.

  “The point is this, Admiral Mason. The last day of the previous CO’s duty, the Yellow Man appeared to him, and told them to take John Mason to the chamber,” Richardson revealed.

  “What!” She exclaimed.

  “Yes. He specifically named Captain Mason,” the Commandant said flatly.

  “Admiral, is there a recording of the Yellow Man’s visit to the CO? If so, may we see it?” Mason calmly asked.

  “Yes, there is. I’ll play it for you, now,” Admiral Worthington said. The recording showed the ONE’s bridge and the Yellow Man all right, but his voice was very different. His screwed-up mouth wasn’t in line with his words.

  “Admiral Worthington, Commandant; I have conversed half a dozen times with Dr. James. That is not his voice. And even though his altered mouth makes lip-reading more difficult, his words are not matching the audio track. If you watch the message I sent you previously, you will know I speak the truth,” Mason said emphatically.

  “Very well, Mason. We’ll watch the message you sent me when he appeared in your home.” The message offering Mason the Father of the new species and Mother of the new species to the Admiral played. The two Joint Chiefs looked at one another in silence.

  “If the Admiral were to bring in a forensic sound wave analyzer, I am positive the deception would become clear, sir. It is my area of expertise, sir; forensics,” Mason offered. An immediate forensic sound wave analysis was ordered and conducted in the Admiral’s private office. All known recordings of the Yellow Man were analyzed. Mason was correct.