::Touchdown,:: the computer's voice said in his mind.
::What's the weather like, Dora?::
Dora was the name he had bestowed on the computer, the name of a woman of a favorable past acquaintance.
::A comfortable seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit.::
::Thank you, Dora. I'll be back in a little while. Don't go anywhere without me,:: he teased, then added, ::and don't go fooling around with any hardware, okay?::
::I shall place all operations in standby,:: the unemotional voice said.
::That's my girl,:: Leumas praised and gently caressed the side of the craft.
As the door slid open, yellow-orange sunlight filled his vision. The rural landscape was composed of red soil, the horizon a mountainous terrain of the same color. Shrubbery and trees were a distinct blue with white flowers in bloom upon them. The air was scented with a cinnamon-like smell. He breathed deeply and thought that, under different conditions, he would have liked to enjoy the colorful scenery and scent of this world.
He quickly headed toward the makeshift shelter his agents had called home for the past six months. The shelter was designed to look like similar dwellings in this area; octagonal in shape and built from the red stone that was abundant. All the sides were of solid stone, the roofs from formed metal. Windows were not included in their homes because of the meteorite storms that frequently occurred.
It was eerily quiet. Leumas’s unease deepened when no one came out to greet him. He had been transmitting the message of his pending arrival continuously for the past several hours. Even if their communications equipment were inoperable, they would have heard his ship's arrival. The lack of anyone to greet him indicated no one was here or they had encountered some form of trouble. He hoped it was the former.
He felt for his small hand laser under his jacket, fingering the switch to ensure it was in stun mode. He left it under his jacket and continued on.
Stepping up to the entrance, Leumas touched his hand to the security plate on the door. It quickly slid open under his touch. A stench assaulted his nostrils; he gagged, removed a handkerchief from his pocket and held it over his face. The smell was uncomfortably familiar, burnt hair or something similar. Leumas tried to remember where he had smelled it before in order to associate the smell with an image, but decided his first priority should be to get some light.
The automatic light did not come on and the darkness enhanced his trepidation. He placed his hand to the right of the inside doorway to where he thought he remembered the manual override light switch was located.
He felt something wet on his hand as it followed the contour of the wall to the switch. Leumas hoped it was just condensation from the lack of air circulation, but the sticky feel of it left him uneasy. He took out his weapon with his other hand.
Soon, he felt the reassuring shape of the wall switch and slid it to on. Bright luminescence filled the room, and Leumas raised his hands to shield his eyes from the glare. Seconds ticked by as his eyes adjusted to the clean white light. Slowly, he began to lower his hands. His eyes focused on the bright red blood that covered them.
The sight of the blood triggered his memory of the origin of the smell—the burnt flesh from a laser blast.
Chapter Four
“At times I believe that we are comprised of two different egos, the one when we are awake and the other when we are asleep. But which is correct?”
Greg Carlson
Greg waited in the Great Hall of the Council, dressed in the long black robe he wore for meetings, as the Council members took their seats. The immensity of the facility amazed him each time he entered. The hall had been carved from the interior of a West Virginia mountain, its ceiling rising several hundred feet above his head. There was a display of the galaxy on the ceiling, symbolizing the Council’s mission: the promise of life to all the races that inhabited the galaxy, a life of peaceful coexistence.
The walls were adorned with each member's contribution, a symbol of their individuality—a piece of art, writings, architecture, clothing—whatever they wished to contribute. Those walls were a symbol of their unity that flourished despite their diverse and unique backgrounds.
Greg was in his usual place at the podium on the center dais where he had a full view of the Council chambers. Everything appeared to be as it should. The delegates, at last count one hundred and fifty-six, sat, stood, hovered or whatever was the case for his or her particular species at designated tables. There were two representatives per planet per table with their planetary designation clearly displayed.
Although the room was full, it was disturbingly and unusually quiet. Normally, the mixed babble of alien dialects was rampant as the universal translators raced to keep up with the conversations. This time the Great Hall was silent.
Can I be dreaming? Greg thought, his insides quivering as he stepped down from the podium and proceeded toward the member areas in the eerie silence.
He neared the closest table where the members of the Colupian delegation sat. Colupia was a water world, its people evolved from sea creatures. Their physical features were those common to a water species: scale-like skin that was always wet, oval mouths and slim head and body. They could live outside of a water environment for a short time, but either had to return to the water or don a breathing apparatus that allowed them to saturate their lungs with water within a few hours. Greg remembered the first time he had seen them and how badly he had wanted to ask where their fish bowl was.
Now, he addressed them in a casual tone. "Members from Colupia." He waited to be acknowledged, but no acknowledgment came. Instead, the two fish-like delegates sat perfectly still. He stepped nearer.
"Delegates of the planet Colupia?" Greg said again in a louder voice, but still there was no answer. They remained sitting, staring straight ahead without any movement or recognition of him. He looked closer, this time noticing they appeared molded in their positions, unable to move.
Their skin was normally lubricated with a liquid that kept their skin damp. He could clearly see the beads of moisture on their bodies. He turned and looked at the adjoining tables; the other members in the near vicinity appeared to be in a similar state. Frozen in time, unmoving. Perhaps dead? Maybe not even real, he thought.
It has to be a dream.
He reached toward the Colupian. As his finger touched its skin, its body collapsed as if ignited by some fuse. It shattered into pieces and fell in a perverse harmony, forming a pile on the ground at his feet. He stepped back quickly, feeling queasiness sweep over him.
My touch caused his death?
He dashed to the next table of delegates, a humanoid group from Zire. He received the same reception. He reached out his hand and touched the still figure. It, too, shattered with an exact precision.
Greg's heartbeat quickened. He ran from table to table in a panic; each time, the result was exactly the same. His touch caused the aliens to fall apart. He made a complete circle of the chamber and ended up where he had started. His Council robes were soaked with sweat as he was inundated with fear and revulsion. The message was clear. Whatever had happened to the Council members, it was caused by something he had done or failed to do.
All my fault! My interaction with these alien races will cause their deaths!
"What is happening?" Greg screamed out loud in frustration and rage.
A sound answered him, a soft laugh that sounded like a little child, but then rose in intensity and depth as the seconds passed. The laugh soon became a long, drawn-out howl of someone who was mad; completely and wholeheartedly mad. The sound sickened him.
"Who are you? Where are you?" he screamed as his eyes jumped nervously in his head, searching for the source of such sickness and madness.
Who could possibly laugh at what was happening?
"Did you really think that you could pull off this sham of yours?" A voice from the darkness demanded. "You and your little group? The crazy alien, Leumas, and your female friend?" The deep voice was frothin
g with indignation. Greg thought he recognized something in that voice.
"Who are you?" Greg demanded. "Why don't you step into the light where I can see you?" His heart felt like it would pound its way out of his chest. Just a dream.
The voice came again from the darkness, this time mocking him again in a childlike singsong.
"The Great Council sat on the wall.
The Great Council had a great fall.
All the aliens in the galaxy couldn't
put the Council back together again and
certainly not a half-breed the likes of you."
The voice ended its recitation and resumed laughing. This time, it sounded utterly out of control and shook the ground Greg stood on. A great fissure opened in the floor and Greg was thrown toward it. He grasped the edge and barely managed to hold on.
Suddenly, there was a burst of light from the galactic display overhead. It looked as if the galaxy itself had been split by some tremendous release of energy. However, the energy had a warm, calming effect on him, as though its emanations were life itself. Entranced, he stared at the glow so far above him, and even as his fingers groped for a better hold, he felt a strange sense of calm envelop him.
The laughter stopped for a moment; voices shouted in his mind, hundreds of them. He couldn't understand what they were screaming.
Am I going mad? Is this the way it ends?
His fingers were slipping. He peered below; the crevice was dark and he couldn't tell where it ended or if it ever did.
"Take my hand," the evil voice said. "Take my hand and you will live, but you must hurry before the light overtakes us."
"What does the light signify?" Greg asked as his grip weakened.
"You worry about the light above instead of the darkness below?"
"I must know!"
"Then die," the voice roared as Greg felt each finger slowly releasing its hold. He began to fall into darkness…
"Noooooo," he screamed as he opened his eyes to face a red sun climbing above the mountains to begin another day.
He looked around his quarters to assure himself he was actually there and not in another dream. His hand reached for the cup of coffee sitting on the table. It was ice cold.
It was another dream! Another damn dream!
He closed his eyes and wept in frustration.
Chapter Five
“We all die at some point, but when murder is committed upon someone we know, it becomes very personal. It changes even the calmest of a species to a raving lunatic who seeks nothing but the act of revenge.”
Leumas
Leumas felt his stomach lurch at the sight and feel of the sticky blood covering his hands. He turned back toward the door he had just entered, trying to regain some sense of calm, fighting back the vomit that rose into his throat. If he met an intruder at this moment, he would surely get himself killed. Better to regroup before going any further.
Just outside the door, he knelt, scooped up some dirt and rubbed it between his hands, trying to remove as much of the blood as possible. As he scrubbed, he tried to refocus his thoughts. There were three agents assigned to this planet—three agents he had assigned to the planet. Until the sudden silence, there had been no indication anything at all was amiss. The influencing process had been advancing according to schedule, the agents confident they would complete the task right on time. The reason for the bloodshed eluded him.
He knew the men were dedicated and qualified for the task. Yes, they were still a little green, but this planet was almost textbook perfect for a beginning assignment. Whatever had gone wrong was not of their doing, he was sure of that much.
When he had mustered enough control, Leumas went back inside and began a search. Nothing had been left untouched. Furniture was overturned, drawers emptied onto the floor. Paper littered the area, some also stained by blood. A desk lay on its back, one leg broken off and nowhere in sight. He found the first body on the other side of a sofa that had been overturned and lay skewed with its back facing the door. It was Snarg; his chest had been burned away by a direct burst from a laser weapon. Leumas felt his stomach protesting again, but fought the feeling back with another, stronger feeling. Anger.
Why? He slammed his fist on the wall. Why would someone do this? He felt his rage trying to wash him away. Tears were burning his eyes, but he fought them. Time to mourn later.
Returning to the search, he quickly checked the remaining two rooms. They were in similar disarray. The other two agents were nowhere in sight, but there was enough blood and signs of a battle to indicate that they, too, had likely been killed here.
But why kill them and take the bodies away? Why leave this one—my friend? Perhaps to taunt me?
He placed a blanket he found over Scarg's body. Before he covered the young man's face he murmured some words, some little things that he remembered of their times together and remembrances of his family. He also said he would tell Scarg's parents their son had died for the betterment of this planet. He would explain the death had not been for nothing and that other agents—Scarg's colleagues, his friends—would learn vital things that would help them do their jobs better and possibly save lives. He ended the eulogy in a broken voice.
"I'm sorry, Scarg."
He picked up the body as gently as he could and carried it to his ship, placing it in storage for the trip back to Earth. He returned to the facility knowing what he had to do next. After all, he had written the procedures for such a situation, never thinking he would ever have to use them.
He opened the control panel for the shelter and keyed in his master override code. His hand moved slowly and nervously, his fingers pressing the number pad, his mind struggling to remember the codes in between thoughts of Scarg and the fate of the other two agents. He paused as he prepared to enter the last sequence of the destruct process.
The rules were quite specific if a planet's inhabitants or other races had discovered the presence of agents and it was likely hostilities were possible or already had occurred. All evidence of the Council’s presence on the planet was to be destroyed and a thorough review conducted by the Council to determine what had happened and what the future direction of action might be regarding the influencing or development of the planet.
Leumas keyed the last numbers in the sequence; the red display lit up with the numerals indicating two minutes remained before destruction. However, instead of immediately moving off to a safe distance, he stood staring, eyes mesmerized by the numerals as they marched downward.
Suddenly, a cloak of paranoia covered him. Whoever had done this might still be here.
There is someone watching me! Watching me right now, waiting to kill me as soon as I move away from the facility so they can get a clear shot.
He turned around, keeping his back to the facility wall. He stared off into the distance, scanning the area, looking for any signs of his sensed observer. He saw nothing; yet the fearful sensation unnerved him so much he began to shake uncontrollably. He grasped his head with his hands. Looking down, he closed his eyes, trying to control the shaking.
Watching me right now, waiting to kill me as soon as I move away from the facility so they can get a clear shot.
When the shaking subsided, his closed eyes jerked open and saw the time display. Sixty seconds remained on the clock. He looked to the left and then to the right. He pivoted around in a half-circle, again scanning the area for any signs of movement.
Watching me right now, waiting to kill me as soon as I move away from the facility so they can get a clear shot.
Thirty seconds. A warning sounded; a low shrill followed by a monotone voice: "Evacuate to safe distance, this is the final warning. Evacuate to safe distance, this is the final warning…"
He couldn't move. Watching me right now, waiting to kill me as soon as I move away from the facility so they can get a clear shot. Better to stay here, they can't get me if I stay here. They want me to move out into the open and then—
::Leumas. Can
you hear me?:: Dora's voice called.
The voice entering into his mind was familiar.
::Leumas.::
The paranoia and fear began to leave his thoughts, washed away by the reassuring voice in his mind.
::Dora?::
::Yes, Leumas. You need to move away from the facility. Do it now.::
::I can't; maybe in a little bit.::
::You must move now, Leumas, or you will be killed. There are approximately fifteen seconds until the hut explodes. While monitoring you, I determined you have been under the influence of a powerful delayed mind push. It took considerable time and effort to initiate a neural block and weaken the push. Now, get out of there.::
His mind cleared enough to understand what Dora was telling him. There wasn't any threat. He was only led to believe there was one. He glanced back at the time display. Ten seconds. He ran.
Once in place, a delayed mind push sat in the mind until activated by some thought or action. His initiation of the self-destruct device had triggered his. Whoever had done this to him had probably affected him on arrival. Someone who knew Council procedure.
Leumas felt time ticking away as he reached an outcropping of rock and jumped behind it. The explosion followed a second later, causing his ears to pop, not from the noise (since the explosion was silent to avoid attracting any attention) but from the release of pressure from the explosive. Fiery debris flew over and around him, disintegrating as it moved away from the blast center.
He stood on wobbly legs and looked. The facility was totally obliterated, all traces of its existence gone. I was almost part of it, he thought. It was too much to comprehend. One agent dead, two missing but probably dead also, a delayed mind push used and he himself almost killed by an explosion he had initiated.
What the hell is going on?
Still, there was nothing else to be accomplished here. Best to return to the Council and make them aware of what had happened and inform the loved ones of the agents that they had been killed. Sadness attacked him once again, but his anger forced the door on his grief closed. It would remain so until he found out who was behind this.
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