Worlds Without End: The Mission (Book 1)

by Shaun Messick

  Skip was impressed with what Doc and Sean were able to do, but he was still confused.

  “Perhaps you are wondering why we didn’t let you know about this fail safe in your leg,” said the image of Doc.

  Skip smiled at the coincidence that the holographic image of Doc seemed to know what he was thinking.

  “We didn’t tell you everything about your leg because the fail safe program installed in your leg is hardwired into your subconscious. In other words, if we had have told you, the program wouldn’t have worked. We needed to keep you in the dark about the total potential of your leg. Also, if you had known, any scans performed by the Gnols on your leg would have revealed everything about it, including the technology of the Mind Inhibitors used to block the Gnols’ brain scans.”

  Skip was astonished. “Brilliant,” he whispered. No wonder the Gnols couldn’t get any readings on my leg, he thought.

  The image of Doc continued. “Now that you know a little more about the computer you use as a leg, I want you to press the button that was emitting the red light earlier four times with exactly one second between each press.”

  Skip looked behind his leg and placed his finger on the button. He pressed it four times, timing each second between each press of the button. As soon as he pressed the button the fourth time, the artificial skin around his thigh enveloped and disappeared, leaving the metallic thigh exposed and revealing a numeric punch pad.

  Skip slowly guided his finger to touch the pad.

  “Don’t touch the pad!” demanded Doc.

  Skip looked up and pulled his hand away quickly.

  “If you type in any numbers besides what I tell you to type, the code will never work, and your leg will self destruct.”

  A lump formed in Skip’s throat, and he sat up a little straighter.

  Doc cleared his throat and spoke, “Here’s the code. One … seven … zero … five … one … zero … six … four … two.”

  As Doc rambled off the numbers, Skip carefully punched in the code, careful not to make a mistake so that the miracle of his new leg wouldn’t self destruct. Just as he finished punching in the final number, the top portion of his artificial thigh containing the numeric pad slid away. His jaw dropped with what he saw.

  Inside his leg was a compartment, and inside the compartment were the tools that he desperately needed to escape the slave camp of Zikf. Skip reached inside the hollow part of his thigh and pulled out a small gun. He examined it for a few minutes and then set it down next to him. He then pulled out a bag with what he estimated contained about one hundred Mind Inhibitors.

  Skip slowly sat the bag of inhibitors next to the gun and was about to reach into his leg for the third and final key to freedom when the door to his quarters suddenly slid open. Startled, Skip jumped, and his hand hit the gun and the bag of inhibitors, causing them to fall between the bed and the wall.

  He turned around quickly and met the angry, red eyes of Captain Belzar.

  **********

  Adrian’s head ached horrendously, and the left side of his face throbbed in pain as he sat in the darkness of what he assumed was the brig of a Gnol spacecraft. He wasn’t sure, however. After his capture, he had been severely beaten to unconsciousness.

  When he awoke, he was in the very place he was sitting now. The small cell was totally dark, and the only food that was provided to him in the two days since his capture had been the small slivers of bread already in his cell. The only water he was able to obtain was from the droplets of condensation that dripped from the pipes that crisscrossed along the ceiling of his cell. The pipes were the clues that led him to believe that he was aboard a ship because the pipes contained a cold liquid that he guessed cooled some sort of nuclear reactor powering the ship.

  Adrian licked his dry lips and swallowed as he tried to ease the dryness in his throat. He slowly stood, but nearly fell from the dizziness in his head. When he regained his balance, he stood on the only piece of furniture in his prison – a small wooden stool. He inched up on his tiptoes and licked at the condensation on the cold pipes.

  He continued to lick as much moisture from the pipes as he could. When he couldn’t scavenge for any more water, he stepped down from the stool. As he was doing so, the doors of his cell slid open. The brightness of the light outside of his cell pierced his eyes, causing him to wince in more pain. His heel caught the edge of the stool and he stumbled backwards, cracking his head on the wall behind him.

  He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs as he opened his eyes. He saw two blurry images approach. He felt muscular arms grab him from under each armpit and lift him to his feet.

  As the two Gnols pulled him from his cell, Adrian tried to keep their quick pace, but the weakness in his legs wouldn’t allow him to keep up. He stumbled and decided to conserve his energy as he let the Gnols drag him through a long, sterile corridor.

  Adrian’s eyesight began to improve. When they reached the end of the corridor, they turned right and made their way down another long corridor, and into what Adrian assumed was an elevator. When they entered the elevator, the door behind them slid shut.

  “Bridge,” one of the Gnols said.

  Adrian felt the elevator lift upwards for about a minute. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Adrian’s vision was back to normal, and he wished it wasn’t, for his worst fear was in full view in front of him. Through the elevator doors and beyond the protective plasma shield of the bridge was the blue and green image of Earth. Adrian felt a lump form in his throat as he saw his home for the first time in twenty-five years.

  He swallowed and felt a small surge of energy flow through his body. He shook loose. “Where’s your commanding officer!” he said angrily.

  The Gnol to his left looked angry and stepped forward to throw a punch into Adrian’s face. But the Gnol on Adrian’s right stepped around Adrian and stopped the Gnol before he delivered the blow. He glared at Adrian and gave him a knowing smile then he pointed to the left of the bridge and said, “He is through that door, and he is expecting you.”

  Adrian looked in the direction the Gnol pointed and made his way to the door. The thirty plus crew members working at various stations on the bridge immediately stopped working and stared at him as he walked to the door. Adrian felt the anger surge through him, for he knew what they were planning to do. He looked at Earth through the bridge and stopped just in front of the door. The door slid open.

  Adrian stepped into a spacious office about half the size of the bridge. The door slid shut. The office was dimly lit, but Adrian could see a large crystal desk to his left. On the desk, were two computers and behind the desk was the long back of a leather office chair. The chair was swaying gently back and forth as its occupant stared at the planet outside of the giant plasma shield separating Adrian and his companion in the office from the vacuum of space.

  “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” said a familiar voice from behind the chair.

  Adrian stepped closer to the desk and replied, “Yes, it is, but—”

  Adrian was cut off by the familiar voice. “Twenty-five years. Has it really been that long?”

  Adrian moved in closer. He recognized the voice as Dorange Gar’s, Koroan Chast’s right hand Gnol, but was confused and wondered what Dorange was talking about.

  “Twenty-five years. Where has the time gone, Adrian? We were so young back then, and we had so many dreams of greatness.”

  Adrian’s mind was reeling. The voice of Dorange Gar was so familiar and almost reminded him of an old enemy from his past, but how could that be? Adrian began to step around the desk when the chair slowly began to turn his way. Adrian stopped as the chair turned.

  His jaw dropped after Dorange turned the chair around to face him. Adrian met the tear -filled eyes of Dorange and spoke in almost a whisper of shock. “D … Don!”

  **********

  “I can’t believe you’re playing that thing while we’re here.”

  Adam stopped playing his hologra
phic video game, looked up at his sister, and rolled his eyes. “What else is there to do? Dad has been in that meeting with the President for nearly three hours now.”

  Ashley sighed. Her brother had a point, but she also knew what an honor it was for the President of the United States to invite her father and his two children to spend a week in the White House while their father attended meetings in Washington D.C.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” said Ashley as she rolled off the bed and strolled across the Lincoln bedroom to the portrait of Abraham Lincoln. She stared at the portrait for a few minutes and then turned to the flat-screen television that hung on the wall. “Maybe there’s a good movie on. Television … power on.”

  The television came alive, and a female reporter appeared on the screen. Ashley nearly fell over. “Adam!”

  There was no response.

  Ashley turned and looked at her brother, who was fully engrossed in his video game. “Adam! Put that thing down and look at this.”

  Adam rolled his eyes, stopped playing the game, and looked up at the TV. The video game fell from his hand as he stood up and moved closer to his sister. “What the … turn it up.”

  “Volume up,” Ashley said.

  The volume on the television went up, and both Ashley and Adam were able to hear the reporter’s voice.

  “It is still unknown who is behind this attack. There are rumors that a terrorist group is to blame, but that is not yet confirmed. … Again, for those of you just joining us, twenty minutes ago, just after midnight Paris time, an unknown enemy viciously and heinously attacked Paris, France. The attack has left nearly half the city in ruins.”

  Ashley gasped as the next image shown on the television was of the famous Eifel Tower. The tower was in flames and was about to topple over. Again, the reporter spoke.

  “Wait … we’re getting reports now of smaller aircraft coming in … wait … no … get a shot of that!”

  Adam and Ashley watched as the cameraman focused in on what seemed like thousands of aircraft swooping down from the air. The aircraft were spewing what looked like red laser fire all over and laying destruction in their paths.

  “Are those laser bolts?” Adam questioned.

  Ashley was speechless. She continued to stare at the television with horror in her eyes. Suddenly, there was a deafening explosion just outside of the White House. The power inside the Lincoln bedroom went out, and the room shook violently. Adam dove for his sister and tackled her to the floor just as hot, flaming fire burst through the windows.

  The door to the bedroom flew open and two secret service agents bolted in. The agents grabbed Ashley and Adam and hurriedly escorted them down the hallway and down into the Oval Office where their father was along with Michael Konrad, the President, and what seemed like hundreds of U.S. military personnel.

  When they arrived in the Oval Office, Ashley broke free of the secret service agent’s grip and rushed toward her father. She enjoyed the embrace of her father for a few seconds before she looked back up at him. “Dad … wh … what’s going on?”

  Kevin was about to speak, but was interrupted by a tall, lanky man with snow-white hair. The man stepped forward and looked directly at Kevin when he spoke. “That’s just what we were discussing with your father before these attacks occurred.”

  Ashley looked at her father as he bowed his head in what seemed like defeat, and then back at the tall, lanky man. She glared at him and spoke. “With all due respect, Mr. President, why would my father have anything to do with this?”

  President Clifford Galbraith first glared back at Ashley with his dull, gray eyes and then flashed his trademark smile, which always sent chills up her spine. “I am sorry,” he said. “We’re not blaming your father for this. It’s just that there are no other explanations for what is happening here.”

  Ashley was confused and gave the President a look to show it. “It still sounds like you're blaming him.”

  President Galbraith stepped closer to Ashley while maintaining his same smug smile. “No … no … we are not blaming your father. It’s just our satellite images have verified more than three hundred unidentified spacecraft in orbit around Earth, all of which are similar to the space shuttles your father helped design and build.”

  Ashley looked back at her father just as a secret service agent whispered something into the President’s ear. “Dad, is this true?”

  Kevin looked at his daughter with a look of despair that told her that he knew this would happen. “Yes, Ashley. The ships are similar to the design I helped NASA with, but—”

  Suddenly, there was another loud explosion, but this time it wasn’t outside. It was within the White House itself. Ashley heard gunfire as her brother pulled her by the arm and onto the floor. Ashley looked up and met the tear-filled eyes of her father, who was lying on the floor in front of her. They ducked their heads again as the gunfire penetrated the Oval Office.

  Just as Ashley turned her head to see where the gunfire was coming from, a secret service agent fell to the floor, clutching his head and screaming in pain. She jumped to her knees and turned around.

  “Ashley! No!” Kevin shrieked as he grabbed her ankle.

  Ashley’s eyes met the black boots of the enemy that had penetrated one of the most secure rooms in America. Her eyes followed the body of the enemy up to its face. To her surprise, she met the eyes of what looked like a human male, not a grotesque alien.

  The man looked past Ashley. Ashley followed his eyes and noticed that he was looking directly at her father.

  “Are you Kevin Palmer?” the man said.

  Kevin staggered to his feet and replied, “Yes, I am.”

  The man gave Kevin an evil smile and began to raise his weapon.

  “No!” screamed Ashley as she jumped to her feet and instantly felt the burning sensation of the weapon’s blast as it penetrated her chest. Everything went silent as she stumbled back into her father’s arms.

  **********

  Dorange stood up from his chair and wiped the tears from his eyes. Adrian staggered backwards and fell back over another chair. He quickly regained his composure and stood up as Dorange stopped within inches of his face.

  “That name no longer means anything to me,” said Dorange with a quivering voice.

  Adrian clenched his jaw and balled up his fists. “How could you … Don? How could you betray your own kind?”

  Dorange narrowed his eyes and clutched Adrian by his flight suit. “I told you. That name no longer means anything to me.” Dorange then lifted Adrian off the floor and hurled him about twenty feet across the room.

  Adrian screamed in pain as his back slammed against the cold, metal wall of Dorange’s office. His body fell, crashing through a small wooden table and finally resting on the floor.

  Adrian closed his eyes, grimaced in pain, and wondered how Don had managed to fling him across a large office.

  Dorange laughed as he approached Adrian. “You know … it’s funny, Adrian, how things can come full circle.”

  Adrian staggered to his feet in pain. “Wha … what do you mean?” he asked, meeting Dorange’s angry eyes.

  “C’mon, Commander. You should know.”

  “Know what?”

  Dorange laughed, turned, and walked away. He walked to the large plasma shield with Earth in view. Adrian looked as well and could see small fireballs dotting the entire planet.

  Dorange stared at Earth for a few moments and then turned to meet Adrian’s gaze. “Revenge.”

  Adrian furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head in confusion.

  “Oh … I always knew you were as intellectually challenged as you were void in leadership abilities, Commander. Revenge. Revenge on you, Adrian. That’s what I am talking about.”

  Adrian ignored Dorange’s first comment and stepped forward. “Revenge? Revenge for what?”

  “Hah, like you don’t know,” seethed Dorange as he looked back at his former home, which anyone could tell was under full attac
k by now.

  Adrian walked a little closer to Dorange. “Don …”

  Dorange shot a look of pure hatred toward Adrian.

  Adrian ignored it and continued. “Why would you want revenge on me?”

  Dorange gave Adrian a wry smile, placed his hands behind his back, and began pacing back and forth with the fiery image of Earth behind him. He ducked his head. “Revenge,” he whispered. And then he looked at Adrian with intensity. “If it wasn’t for you, Commander, I would have been a hero. I would have been the first human to set foot on Mars. I would have been looked up to as a hero back home … but no … NASA had to pick you as Commander of the Mars I mission. As a result, you took my hopes and dreams away from me.”

  Adrian stepped closer and, with frustration in his voice, he said, “How is that my fault? You know I had nothing to do with the selection process. When NASA chose me, I couldn’t believe it. I thought for sure that they would choose you. That’s why I made you my copilot on the mission.”

  “Copilot!” roared Dorange as he turned and flung one of the computer monitors off his desk.

  Adrian ducked, turned, and looked as the computer monitor crashed into the wall behind him. He turned around and met the sweltering eyes of Dorange within an inch of his own. Dorange spit and gritted his teeth as he spoke.

  “Copilot! You insulted me when you appointed me to that position. You knew who the better leader was, who would have led us safely to Mars and back home again. By making me copilot, you took everything away from me that I worked so hard for … everything!”

  Dorange then grabbed Adrian by the collar with his left hand and set his left arm back into a punching motion, ready to strike. Adrian’s eyes widened as Dorange’s fist cut through the air to his face. He ducked and felt Dorange’s fist skim the top of his head. Adrian dropped to his left knee and swung his right leg out, striking the back of Dorange’s legs.

  Dorange fell flat onto his back, and Adrian heard the air rush out of his lungs. Dorange rolled around for a few seconds, trying to regain his wind. Adrian stood up and looked over to Dorange. For a brief moment, he almost lent Dorange a hand to help him up, but ignored the instinct, for he knew that Dorange would attack again. Instead, Adrian asked the question that had weighed heavily on his mind for nearly twenty-five years.