Last of the Treasure Hunters

by Warren Dean

  LAST OF THE TREASURE HUNTERS

  WARREN DEAN

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  Lucania Publishing House

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  Edited by Jennifer Blaine

  Cover by Brhi Stokes

  https://www.brhistokes.com/

  Copyright © 2019; All Rights Reserved.

  Warren Dean asserts all rights to be identified as the author of this work; no part of it may be copied or distributed in any way without the prior written permission of the author. The events, names, and characters depicted in this story are fictional and any resemblance to any person, black hole, or alien, is unintended and purely coincidental.

  For Luke

  The best six-year-old ever

  Contents

  Title Page

  Seeker's Log: 327 AD

  2054 AD

  Ten Days Ago

  Ten Days Later

  Meanwhile...

  The Next Day

  Six Months to E-Day

  As Azee Slept...

  Three Days Later

  Sometime Later - or Earlier

  Seeker's Log: 2054 AD

  Calculating...

  Seeker's Log: 2549 AD

  Four Months On

  One Small Step

  Seeker's Log: 1603 AD

  More by Warren Dean

  Review

  Afterword

  The Forever Gene (Sample)

  SEEKER'S LOG: 327 AD

  Seeker swooped over the fissured landscape of the desolate orange planet, its infra-radiation scanners set to maximum.

  The crumbling mountains and bone-dry sea beds belonged to an ancient world which had long ago passed through any life-bearing cycle. The only noteworthy geological features were the towering crystalline formations which pocked the planet's surface in gigantic clusters.

  Carefully avoiding these towers, the survey drone executed its sub-surface scanning protocol.

  Had it been capable of emotion, it would have been happy to find no evidence of life on the planet, which greatly simplified matters. An uninhabited planet could be surveyed without concern for the mission directive which prohibited harm to sentient life. Although the directive was subject to override should such life engage in active obstruction, the time it took to escalate through the various levels of dissuasion always slowed things down considerably.

  And time was not a commodity the drone's constructors had to waste. Without liberal infusions of the life-sustaining yellow metal alloy, the last age of the once mighty civilisation would soon come to an end.

  Seeker's regeneralloy could keep the drone going indefinitely, but the Constructors' clock was ticking. For that reason, their deep-space probes, and the survey drones which followed after them, were kept on a tight schedule. The continual search for the precious metal was paramount, and not even the random discovery of hitherto unknown civilisations could be permitted to hinder it.

  The drone completed its zonal scan and ascended to the edge of the planet's thin atmosphere. Powering down all but its core systems it hovered motionless, comparing the scan results with the data collected by the deep-space probe. The probe's superficial scan suggested that significant quantities of the yellow metal were to be found near the surface of the dying planet. But Seeker's deep scan had uncovered little sign of this.

  Unable to register puzzlement, the drone scudded across the sky to another location and generated new search parameters. It began a new scan, methodically quartering large zones in a pattern designed to maximise the probability of striking any seams which might lie beneath the surface. Many of the planet's long days and short nights went by, until enough of the surface had been scanned for another assessment to be made.

  It was inconclusive. The scan results showed that there were indeed traces of the metal below the surface, but these were minimal and would not justify a mining operation. In many places the traces were to be found lining the sides and bottoms of fissures, tunnels, and caverns; an indication of extensive seams having been there in the past.

  The planet had been rich in the yellow metal at one time, it seemed, but those riches had already been mined. Instances such as these were uncommon, but not unprecedented. Probes occasionally found planets whose reserves had already been plundered by other space-faring races seeking the metal for its inherent value.

  But here, Seeker was confronted with an anomaly. The workings on the ground were thousands of cycles old, while the probe's scan was recent.

  The drone consulted its mission directives for guidance. They were not helpful. They covered methods of prospecting, the assessment of scans, and the determination of a planet's suitability for mining. They did not contain instructions on how to proceed if metal that should be there was inexplicably missing.

  Seeker solved the mystery almost by accident. In an attempt to obtain more data, the drone returned to an area it had already scanned, one with a high concentration of hollow seams. In order to achieve maximum penetration it executed the scan from a lower level than before. The manoeuvre turned out to be treacherous, however, due to the fact that the selected area was heavily blanketed by crystalline towers of great height. The drone selected another area with a proliferation of hollow seams, but found a similarly dense forest of towers there. It tried a third such area, with the same result.

  Logic dictated that the hollow seams and the towers were linked in some way. In an attempt to verify this, Seeker scanned one of the largest towers. The results would have startled a sentient entity. Embedded within the tower were large quantities of the yellow metal. Scans of adjacent formations yielded similar results. Thorough to a fault, the drone repeated the exercise in various zones around the planet.

  Scrolling through possible explanations for the peculiar phenomenon, Seeker assessed as most probable the notion that the towers were not natural geological features, as they had appeared to be at first, but were instead the creative construct of some long forgotten civilisation. Whether that civilisation had died out, or had abandoned the planet for some reason, were irrelevant and the drone wasted no time seeking data which might answer that question.

  Having confirmed the presence of sufficient quantities of the metal to make mining viable, and having mapped the most prolific clusters, Seeker moved on to its final task. Selecting a particularly imposing crystalline formation, it scanned the structure to ensure that it showed no sign of disintegration. Then it etched a physical representation of its survey data into the face of the structure and deployed a beacon in geosynchronous orbit to mark its location.

  Without so much as a backward glance at the odd little planet, Seeker triggered its departure sequence and soared out into space, automatically plotting the vector that would take it to the next survey subject on its schedule.

  To conserve power, most of its systems shut down. Fast asleep, the little drone hurtled through space, relying upon its sensors to warn it of impending contact with any space debris which its regeneralloy shell couldn't withstand.

  Once it was well clear of the planet and its nearby star, it calculated a fold-space jump and generated the necessary floating portal. Emerging from the other end of the portal, the drone's systems kicked back in. Metaphorically opening its eyes, Seeker found itself caught up in an immense gravity field. The pull was so strong that not even the portal was able to resist it. Unable to close as it would ordinarily do, it was pulled along on the heels of the drone.

  Trying to make sense of what was happening; Seeker quickly perceived that it was in the grip of a black hole. It was one of the perennial risks of jumping through uncharted space; the possibility of a close encounter with celestial hazards such as black holes, supern
ovae, asteroid fields, and the like. It was not a risk usually faced by survey drones, however, as they were almost always following vectors blazed by deep-space probes and it was the probes that usually bore the brunt of any such hazard.

  Seeker's systems had no capacity to waste on considering how the probe that had preceded it through this sector had evaded the black hole. They were fully engaged in attempting to find a means of escape.

  Re-entering the still open portal seemed the only way out, but the drone did not have the capacity to generate enough propulsion to get anywhere near it.

  And when the portal winked out of existence, dispersed by the gigantic gravitational forces, all hope was lost.

  Mercifully unable to experience terror, Seeker plunged into the void.

  2054 AD

  Despite everything Christina had told him about what lay on the other side of the fold-space portal, Connor still felt that he had no idea what to expect.

  Putting on as a brave a face as he could manage, he hugged and kissed his mother goodbye, helping her wipe away her tears at the same time. Although Molly was crying, as mothers do when their sons leave the family nest, she refrained from begging him not to go. She was well aware of what was at stake, and understood why he was intent on following a red-haired Spanish girl into a hole in the sky.

  Patrick's eyes were moist too, but shone with a fierce pride as he gave his son a firm hug.

  "For goodness sake, guys," said Connor in an attempt to reduce the tension, "I'm not leaving for good. A few months, that's all, and Christina says I can come back through the portal any time I want."

  "Yes, but you can't expect us not to worry," grumbled Molly.

  "I'll be alright, Mum," he said, putting his arm around her. "Some of the Nerds have already sent messages back saying that it's perfectly safe. And anyway, I'm the one who should be worrying about you. After all, you're the ones who will be in danger if this doesn't work out."

  Movement caught his eye, and he looked up at Christina approaching the family huddle. She stopped a little way off, not wanting to intrude, but glanced meaningfully in the direction of the portal. Connor looked across at the ragged-edged little zone and saw that it had finished descending from its holding position above the auditorium. It now hovered about a foot above the turf, and was growing steadily brighter.

  He turned back to his parents. "By the way, Dad, Ant told me yesterday that the Journeyman has already taught the Nerds how to use a telepathic mindmeld."

  Patrick groaned in mock horror. "The Nerds babbling in your head? That can't be good!"

  He and Connor laughed, and even Molly managed a smile.

  Taking advantage of the lighter moment, Connor gave his mother a final kiss and then shouldered the backpack she had insisted on packing for him. It weighed a ton and he grunted in surprise. "What have you put in here, Mum? Rocks?"

  "Just a few things you might need," Molly replied gruffly.

  Shaking his head and smiling, he joined Christina, and together they walked towards the portal.

  "What's this 'nerdsbabbling' your father speaks of?" she asked him in her accented English.

  Connor laughed again. "That's something you're going to have to experience for yourself," he said. "Come on, the suspense is killing me, shall we go?"

  He offered Christina his hand and she took it.

  It was hard to believe that it had been only a week since their first meeting in the banqueting hall at the Alcázar. It felt like they had known each other for years. After the events of deadline day, he had kept his promise to her. Leaving his parents in Seville to enjoy an impromptu holiday, he had commandeered the family jet and they had flown to Brazil. Once there, he had taken her out to the island in the Honey Bee, and then spent two days teaching her the basics of diving.

  In the evenings they had swapped stories; Connor told of how Patrick and Molly had found the wreck of the Christina de la Fuego, that of the similarly ill-fated U-857, and the diamond map, and Christina recounted all that had befallen her when she had crossed the Atlantic in search of her father. Connor was particularly fascinated by her discovery of the fold-space portal in the mountains beyond Lake Maracaibo in Venezuela. The idea that Earth had been visited by sentient beings in its past was not new, but not one he had ever given much credence to.

  He still found it hard to believe that the story of her life had begun more than four hundred years ago.

  On the third day, they dived down to the sunken galleon and, taking great care to avoid the worst of the current, he had spent some time showing her around the eerily preserved stone ship. After they surfaced, and he had helped her take off her diving gear, she sat on the gunwale and cried, her tears mingling with the waters of the ocean that had claimed the life of her father. To console herself, she sat and told Connor all about him, her tears drying up as she reminisced about what the dark-haired adventurer had looked like, the fashionable garments he had worn, and the kindly things he had always done for her.

  They had spent two more days at the island, content to forget the troubles of the world while they explored every nook and cranny of the old ship.

  When it came time to return to Seville, it was with sadness that the interlude was over, but Connor was at least able to console himself with the thought that his adventure with Christina was just beginning. How that adventure might turn out was something he was less comfortable thinking about. A lot was riding on the Nerds and their collective ability to solve seemingly incomprehensible riddles.

  Director Carney at NASA planned to go ahead with his original proposal to put together a team of more conventionally experienced scientists from across the world, and to send them through the portal to assist. But how long that would take, and whether the Constructors would even permit it, was unknown.

  Standing in front of the dazzlingly bright portal hand-in-hand with the oldest human being who had ever lived, Connor felt a momentary pang of hopelessness. If the most advanced race in the universe had been unable to solve their conundrum in thousands of years, how could a bunch of adolescent geeks be expected to do it in a few months?

  "It's time," said Christina, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "And don't worry, it's like…"

  "…stepping off a boat into the water. Yes, you told me, but it isn't that," he replied. He looked back at his parents, who were watching anxiously. "I was just wondering whether I'll ever see them again."

  She turned to face him, looking into his eyes for a moment. "That's something you can't predict," she said, "but I've learned a new truth these last few days; something that you've helped me understand by taking me to my father's final resting place. All my life I've searched for him, or at least for what became of him, believing that once I succeeded, he and I would be reunited. Not physically, of course, but spiritually in some way. But when you and I sat together after diving to the wreck that first time, I realised that what I've sought for so long is not to be found there. Where he died is just a place, and the Christina de la Fuego is just a reminder of the past. What remains of the person I once knew is within me and has been all along. And he will be there for as long as my memory of him waving goodbye at Guadalquivir lives on."

  Connor nodded slowly. "Yes, I know what you mean," he said. "Whatever happens, I'll always carry a little part of my parents with me."

  She smiled, and let go of his hand. "I'll go first," she said. "You may be a little disoriented at first, but I'll be there to steady you." She stepped into the portal and disappeared.

  Resisting the urge to glance at Patrick and Molly one last time, he shifted his backpack into a more comfortable position over his shoulders and followed suit.

  The light of the portal enveloped him, and he had to close his eyes. He tried to put his foot down in front of him, but could feel nothing there. Had it not been for the backpack unbalancing him momentarily, he might have stepped back again. But its weight forced him to continue going forwards and, for an instant, it felt like he was falling. But then he found
himself standing on solid ground, the portal now behind him.

  The first thing that struck him was the different tang to the air. Although Christina had warned him to expect that, the shock made his throat want to close. Then he jumped involuntarily as a hand touched his shoulder.

  "Connor," said Christina, "all is well; you can open your eyes now."

  He had forgotten that his eyes were closed, and felt a little silly. Opening first one, and then the other, he had to blink a few times before her face swam into focus. He felt dizzy, as if he had been on a merry-go-round for a long time.

  "Don't worry," she said, "it'll soon pass." She helped him take off the backpack and guided him gently away from the portal. Its light began to fade as she found him something to sit on. He closed his eyes and held his head in his hands until he began to feel a little less woozy.

  When he opened them again, he found himself staring into the ice-blue eyes of a giant butterfly, all lit up in bright neon colours. Oh great, he thought, now I'm hallucinating. The brilliance of the apparition hurt his eyes, and he was about to close them again, when the thing moved. A long slender appendage, tipped by razor sharp claws, stretched out towards him, poised to strike.

  Connor leapt to his feet with a yell, sending whatever he had been sitting on spinning away.

  "Don't be alarmed," said Christina. "This is Xzaroth, my oldest friend here on Aquasolis. He wishes only to check your vital signs."

  The shining creature glided closer, its diaphanous wings vibrating so quickly that their edges were blurred. Connor couldn't help flinching as its claws lightly caressed the side of his face and rested momentarily on his neck.

  "--He looks ill. Pale and weak. Perhaps it is best for him to go back where he came from.--"

  "--No, give him a moment, he'll recover. You forget how weak and afraid I was when you first found me.--"

  Connor was sure that Christina and the apparition hadn't spoken aloud, and yet he had clearly heard what passed between them. He tried to take a deep breath, but coughed violently as the unfamiliar tang bit into his lungs. "How… how long will I be able to breathe this air?" he asked.