Annals of the Keepers - Deception

by Christiaan Hile

  I didn’t know if he was serious, because she had just acknowledged my mention of the contact order. But, before I could respond, he was at it again.

  “This esen water sure looks quite quenching, Panu,” Mistuuk said.

  “Yes, it is,” Panu replied as she sipped her drink. “Please, drink up,” she insisted.

  Mistuuk just sat there, staring as she drank.

  “Okay, can we get back to the question at hand?” I grumbled.

  Panu just smiled at me as Mistuuk continued to gaze at her and her cup of water.

  I shook it off and readied my next question, but was cut short.

  “Rels, is it? Why are you looking for these Gashnee Ancients?” she asked.

  The tables seemed turned as our contact was now asking me a question.

  I didn’t have time to give a response when I noticed the Slammer pistol drawn and Mistuuk’s voice yelling, “Get down!”

  “NO, WAIT!” I yelled and dove towards his poised hand, but was too late.

  His finger depressed the trigger.

  Boom! The weapon discharged point blank at Panu.

  The top of the table blew all the contents, along with Panu’s head, off to the wall behind.

  My ears rang from the proximity to the thunderous sound of the destruction in front of me.

  I drew my own pistols, aiming them at Mistuuk, the little alien I thought I was getting to know.

  “Don’t move,” I growled, “What was that for?”

  Mistuuk lowered his weapon, “Take a look, Rels.”

  He gestured me to our downed guest.

  I sat up, not taking my aim or sight off the Cuukzen.

  I took a quick glance at Panu.

  I lowered my weapons.

  Behind the table, on the floor, up the wall, and half-way across the room, sprawled Panu’s once whole body. Pieces draped everything.

  I stood stunned, “Synthos,” I observed. “How did you know she was an artificial?”

  “I didn’t, at first. She looked different from what I remembered when she met us outside.”

  Mistuuk holstered his weapon.

  I replaced mine.

  He began walking and looking around the room as he continued, “The next thing was the jojo fruit. We Cuukzen always have jojo fruit with our esen water, no matter what. Even if I rejected it, or you rejected it for me, she still would have brought some out. It’s tradition.”

  “So that’s when you figured it out?”

  “No. When she drank before me. A Cuukzen host does not drink before their guests.”

  “Another tradition?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s the best synth I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t tell.”

  Mistuuk found his way to another back room from the kitchen as I followed.

  There was the real Panu lying on the floor, dead.

  “I’m sorry, Mistuuk.”

  “No sorry. She was just a contact.”

  “But she’s another Cuukzen.”

  “We separate ourselves from emotions in situations like this, Rels.”

  I agreed with the little guy. Apparently, his nonchalant demeanor actually hid some inner wisdom. How did he pick those things out and not me? Maybe he wasn’t bad to have around. I was still going to keep my eye on him though.

  Mistuuk began looking around the room.

  “What’re you looking for now?” I asked.

  He didn’t say a word. He made his way to the waiting area we were just in.

  He approached some baskets and bags along the wall near the door.

  The Cuukzen started making clicking noises. I thought for sure he had lost it.

  A few automated beeps issued from behind the baskets.

  A basket moved and up flew a personal hover unit.

  “See, Rels. This is what I was looking for.”

  The little bot hovered at eye level. It flashed multicolored lights on the top of its triangular black housing while speaking in a strange Cuukzen dialect.

  “What’s it saying? Since another one of your skills seem to be speaking robot.”

  “She was recording our meeting.”

  “She?”

  “Well, that’s what she said.”

  “Great. I’m talking to a bot that thinks it’s a she and a Cuukzen who thinks he’s a bounty hunter of information.”

  The little bot continued to blink and beep.

  Mistuuk kept nodding his head in agreement.

  I felt like the third wheel on a date between these two.

  I didn’t have time for this, “What’s it saying now?”

  “She said the synth came and killed Panu.”

  “Oh, really? I’m so glad I waited for this information. Tell the bot ‘Thank you,’ and let’s move on. We have bigger issues.”

  “What issues, Rels?”

  “Our contacts have been compromised. We need to figure out another way to our main contact.”

  “Blink wants to come with us.”

  “Excuse me? Blink?”

  “That’s her name, Rels.”

  “No. The answer is no,” I was getting frustrated. It was like herding batwons. The pudgy Cuukzen and now a spinning bot. This isn’t going to happen, I thought.

  His big eyes sappily stared up at me.

  “The answer is no.”

  “She says she knows the Vrae contact.”

  I stood unamused, “Okay, I’ll ask. I’ll regret it, but I’ll ask. How does she, the bot, know who our contact is?”

  Mistuuk smiled, “Panu uploaded it before the synth killed her. She knew we were coming, so Blink’s our backup. We Cuukzen always back up our information. Don’t you, Rels?”

  I was definitely beginning to look like the amateur here.

  “The bot can come with us but you are responsible for it. Got it?”

  “Got it, Rels.”

  Come to think about it, what did I say about a wild tamerak chase awhile back? I should have stayed in bed. We left the underground villa in search of the next contact that Blink, the spy bot with a gender complex, had stored in her, its, memory cell.

  Data Cell 26

  The officer crew assembled on the main deck above the bridge. All stood gazing out the large front windows that arched around the observation room.

  Beyond the windows was the final goal of the Earthiests, planet Earth.

  The planet appeared behind her moon as the Erudition Seven passed the once vibrant heavenly body of so long ago.

  Cheers erupted form the group. Hugs and handshakes commenced. Director Bowlan had tears of joy streaming down her cheeks as she hugged the mission’s captain.

  “I can’t believe we’re finally here,” Shawna said, “It’s like a dream, a wonderful dream become reality.”

  “It’s amazing. You’re to be congratulated, Director Bowlan,” the young captain commended, “This movement has finally been fulfilled and it’s all because of you. This is a great day for Humanity.”

  The jubilant cheers soon settled down as the ship advanced closer to the planet. They were not ready for what awaited their eyes.

  A graveyard of debris was positioned between the orbit of the moon and the planet. This was the remains from the Kryth invasion of the Sol system two hundred and sixty-eight years ago.

  The discarded metal was of a misplaced race strewn throughout space that was once vibrant with life and commerce.

  The Kryth had plundered what they could use and let the rest drift in large, concentrated clusters.

  It was an eerie, almost ghostly, scene of mankind’s lost Golden Age of Peace.

  The Erudition Seven moved passed the silent history of so long ago. The crew was somber and still, watching the pieces drift along.

  The captain broke the muted moment, “Have you decided where you want to set down, Director.”

  Her eyes watered, “No. No, not yet, Captain. I was thinking about Africa, but I’m not sure, considering the last reports. I’ll probably make the decision as we t
ake in live data from orbit.”

  “Understood,” he said, just as his wrist-comm sounded.

  [Captain Ronclar, we have a situation here. We’ve detected Kryth ships near the abandoned Kryth station orbiting the planet.]

  The captain and the director looked at one another before making their way to the lift towards the bridge.

  Arriving, the captain approached a crew member at a tactical board, “What’s the status, Lieutenant?

  The lieutenant keyed up an orbital image of the planet and the Kryth space station, “We have contact with two Kryth ships. Upon our detection, they fled and left the system.”

  “Were they military?” Shawna asked.

  “We’re not sure, Director. We believe they were picking debris from the station the Ordinance attacked when we retook the Earth. They could just be looters.”

  The captain looked at Shawna, “Should we notify Ordinance Command?”

  With a worried guise, she responded, “No. I think that would be premature, Captain. It looks like they’ve left. We should continue with the mission. If anyone is to notify the Ordinance, I’ll be the one to explain,” Bowlan directed.

  Shawna was hesitant to have an impulsive reaction and call the greater powers over any issue, including one like this. She thought they could handle the situation, and had planned for such an occurrence. So soon into the mission and they already had to call the big boys; that’s not something she was going to do unless it was her on own terms and in her own words.

  “I’ll launch some Storm-Tac fighters just to show our numbers,” Captain Ronclar stated.

  “That sounds good, Captain. Let’s get into orbit as soon as we can. We can decide where we want to put her down as soon as we do our initial scans of the atmosphere.”

  “Very well, Director. May I suggest a location, Director?”

  “By all means, Captain.”

  “I was thinking the central part of the region once called Colorado.”

  “Why there?”

  “I noticed the air quality is better than the other two locations listed for touchdown points, the vegetation seems to be more plentiful, and the temperature is stable. I also see an opportunity to explore the old United Earth Defense Force facility located in Cheyenne Mountain. It gives us everything we want for our mission, including history, which would favor the Keepers and their pursuit for ancient Earth artifacts.”

  “Yes. Let’s set down there, Captain.”

  The captain nodded and left her presence.

  Shawna walked to the window to take in the incredible view of a planet she had only looked at in the Annals and in her dreams. This was home. This is where they belonged. She could feel it in her DNA. Destiny wouldn’t stop them from returning to the planet of their species origin. Nothing could stop us, she thought, even some scavenging pirates.

  Data Cell 27

  We arrived at the center of the city, the main dock for Aba-Qun Ta. This is where the traders and barter ships rested until business was done.

  There were ten raised landing platforms. Each one held one hundred small personal vessels for visiting guests. The larger cargo and ore haulers docked on the outskirts of the city, where larger berthing structures were located to offload the vast trading materials brought in.

  When I say we, I mean the Cuukzen, the triangle flying thing that beeped, and myself exited a lift on top of Platform Number Four. This is where my ship, the Relentless, was docked.

  I made a right and the Cuukzen made a left, walking away from me with his newfound friend, Blink, in tow down the center of the line of ships.

  “Wrong way, pudgy,” I corrected him. Despite myself, it was fun to boss the little guy around a bit.

  The Cuukzen stopped and turned, “This isn’t the wrong way. My ship is over here, Rels.”

  I was about to correct him again and direct him towards my ship, but my curiosity got the best of me, “Please, lead the way.”

  We walked our way along various ships, some of which I knew from black market traders I tracked. My job was to keep an eye on these Human traders the Ordinance allowed to secretly trade and barter with outside races. There was always some who decided to do more than trade for themselves, as the lure of greed and wealth showed no boundaries amongst races. They were all the same, always wanting more.

  Mistuuk stopped, “Here it is, Rels. What do you think?”

  My amusement turned to shock when my eyes looked upon a Fossari K-Type gunship. This was the only good ship out of the Fossari lineup of personal vessels. Fast, armored, and able to jam most anything not larger than a cruiser.

  “I’m impressed. Here I thought you didn’t like these troubled people?”

  “They are troubled,” Mistuuk grumbled, “That’s not my ship. It’s this ship here.” He gestured across from the gunship.

  I now laid eyes upon a piece of junk that somewhat resembled a ship. A ship that looked like it couldn’t even fly without the aid of a lift or catapult. I’d never seen anything like it. I couldn’t even place a designation. The closest thing it resembled was a cargo crane loader and a shoe, or maybe a boot.

  “We are not taking that,” I said.

  “Why? It flies well, Rels.”

  I turned and left him, “We need to get off this planet as fast as possible. We are probably being tracked or targeted this moment.” I didn’t have time to argue with him.

  “Blink likes it.”

  The flying robot flashed rapid colored lights with a few squeaks and clicks in between.

  “We don’t have time to discuss it. We’re taking my ship.”

  I made my way down to Pad Forty-Seven. This is where my non-shoe-looking ship was docked.

  The pad number was registered to an off-worlder known as Roc Chancier; an alias I used to defer would-be eyes. This particular alias was set up as a Mertiklask metal tradesman with a good reputation. It always helped me to stay clear from inspectors, as I now hoped it would from the pursuer which now followed our contacts, and us.

  I began the startup sequence to the ship. I just hoped the little guy was behind me. We were running out of time and we had to reach our contact before the ones who got to Panu.

  I dropped the front ramp and did a quick hull scan to clear it of any tracking devices. I didn’t have to wait long to know if he was coming or not.

  “Is that your ship, Rels? That thing is as ugly as your face.”

  I had that one coming, as I retorted, “She’s seen better days than your scrap.”

  “I could have said the same thing,” the Cuukzen replied.

  The data pad beeped, acknowledging no tracking devices were found.

  “All clear. Get on. We don’t have time.”

  I entered up the ramp with party in tow.

  This mission was starting to take a wrong turn. I just hoped we would get a bit of luck, as whoever was aware of us knew what we wanted and wanted the same information we were tracking.

  I just wanted to make it to our next contact, a contact who could stay in one piece at least until we got there.

  We left Aba-Qun Ta, the city that never stops trading, with Cuukzen and blinky bot.

  I was always fascinated with the wheeled city. Once you got up to altitude, her size and scale became apparent.

  The city covered about one hundred miles in circumference. Its districts, or trade sections, each made up a piece of a large pie, which all led to a central trading hub. From space, or a high enough altitude, the city looked like a giant, spoked wheel.

  My ship, the Relentless, broke through to space on our way to the planet Enil-Lok. It was an off-world mess of a planet. It had even more lawlessness than what I was used to. In other words, not a nice place to be; but, here we were, going on purpose.

  I was setting the coordinates when the Cuukzen came into the cabin.

  “Can I come in, Rels?”

  “Sure, have a seat.” I motioned the little guy towards the co-pilot chair adjacent mine.

  He was looking around
, as his curious nature always had him doing. I wasn’t even going to ask, though. I never had too.

  “Hey, Rels, nice ship.”

  “Thanks.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, this is a Vrae Mod-Sprinter, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  Mistuuk smiled as if about to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “The outside of the ship is as ugly as you are, Rels.”

  “You already said that, and I meant it to be like that.”

  “You did it on purpose?”

  “Didn’t you do the same to yours so you wouldn’t draw attention?”

  Mistuuk’s blank face just stared at me, “No.”

  “I see.”

  I decided not to continue down this path of discussion as the little guy seemed naïve of the fact that I had done mine on purpose and he did not.

  I wasn’t sure where this mission was going. I wasn’t used to being behind anyone. The person, or persons, in the wake of this assignment knew what they were doing. They sought the same information we did regarding the Gashnee Ancients.

  I sent my report to the Ordinance when the little guy fell asleep. Actually, I needed some sleep myself. I’m sure our Vrae contact will be just as interesting as our last one was.

  I just hoped she wasn’t dead yet.

  Data Cell 28

  The fluctuation of the greenish Ribbon danced in interstellar space, as if an invisible hand waved a long, thin-tailed flag.

  “It sure is pretty,” Commander Takkar commented as Kason entered the bridge of the Flashpoint.

  “Is this the thing that called my team’s emergency rendezvous?” Kason said as he approached the command chair where Takkar sat.

  “That’s it.”

  “What’s causing the effect? I’m not one for astronomical observations.”

  “Neither am I, Kason,” Takkar admitted as he sat up from his position overlooking the bridge with coffee in hand, “We don’t know the source of the energy, but we know why they appear from time-to-time. Wormhole tendrils are caused by varying sources of energy throughout the galaxy. And they materialize in the same location. Some coincidence, huh?”