Mosar (Bright Horizons Book 3)

by Wilson Harp

  “That’s why the cattle mutilations?” Alex asked.

  “No, no mutilations, but we did gather quite a few animal specimens to experiment with.”

  “And humans,” Williams said.

  “Yes, and humans. Although we generally took them in a way so it appeared they were already dead.”

  “How considerate of you,” said Alex.

  Jii shrugged. “You know how it is, Ramirez. When you’re fighting a war, sometimes there are casualties you regret, sacrifices you always question.”

  “But you don’t,” Alex said.

  Jii shrugged again.

  “Call it a failing of mine. Or a lack of a moral compass. That is what you’ve said about me isn’t it?”

  “Stop reading my mind, Jii.”

  “Settle down, Alex,” Williams said. “Okay, Jii. Why don’t you tell us what you think causes our moon to stop the spread of mosar. Your best theory.”

  “Your moon creates several frequencies of electromagnetic radiation, as you know,” Jii said.

  “Yes, as does almost everything. Even our bodies produce an EM field. So?” Williams asked.

  “The moon, even the smallest speck of dust, produces a particular wave length. This wave length disrupts mosar at its earliest form. It doesn’t seem to harm the more advanced stages of mosar, but the earliest stage can’t take hold.”

  “What kind of wave length are we talking about?” Williams asked.

  “One ten thousandth of a hertz in your physics understanding.”

  Williams leaned back on the bed. His jaw slid open and his eyes widened.

  “What does that mean?” Alex asked.

  “It means the wave completes one oscillation every two and a half hours or so. None of our equipment would’ve been able to pick it up.”

  Jii nodded. “You see why I was excited when we discovered this. The disruption of mosar is the theory behind most high-end galactic weapons. But much higher, not lower, frequencies are used to disrupt the next stage of mosar.”

  “And by the time the next stage has developed, the infection has already taken hold,” said Alex.

  “Exactly.”

  “I understand you had some moon dust as part of the construction of the ship,” Williams said. “Why?”

  “The wave frequency also tends to dull the transmission of data among mosar.”

  Williams nodded. Then his eyes went wide.

  “If the wave length disrupts mosar from taking hold in its most primitive stage, and it inhibits communication, then you think you can discover a frequency that prevents it from spreading.”

  “That is correct, Doctor.”

  “And if we can stop it spreading, then we can eradicate it over time,” Alex said.

  “Or at least slow it down enough so we can prepare a nasty surprise for what’s coming.”

  “What’s coming, Jii?” Williams asked.

  “Yeah, let’s hear it.” Alex said. “And anything else you might want to fill us in on.”

  Jii smiled at the men and sat on a bunk.

  “I might as well tell you. An invasion fleet, or maybe an occupation fleet, is heading toward the Milky Way.”

  “When will it get here?”

  “We estimate another ten thousand years. Give or take a few thousand.”

  Alex stood and closed his eyes as he stretched.

  “But we can stop mosar cold in the next couple of weeks?” he asked.

  “Yes, that is my hope,” Jii said.

  “Then why now? Why this moment?”

  “Because we have finally found another race which can comprehend the vast danger and the vast challenge that mosar presents without becoming fatalistic at the thought. You Earthmen are all about the lost cause, the unwinnable fight, the unvanquishable tyrant. Your history and mythology is rife with those tales.”

  “You said finally,” Williams started. “Does that mean you have told others in the past?”

  Jii nodded. “Yes. And it ended poorly. The Esura held a vast empire. They were technologically advanced. They had made great strides in engineering and chemistry. We thought we owed them the truth. They couldn’t handle it. They panicked and all of their research crumbled as they didn’t see the point in continuing. There was civil unrest and mass deaths within days of the news. Thousands of Otina were killed.”

  “What happened to them?” Alex asked. “I mean the Esura. Where did they end up?”

  Jii shook his head. “None still live. They haven’t for over eight thousand years now. It was the loss of Esura which caused A’nacal to organize the Galactic Council.”

  “You use the council to guide the different races into accepting the truth.”

  “I don’t. A’nacal does. He acts outside of the approval of the other Otina.”

  “What about you?”

  Jii frowned. “If there were still enough of us to make a difference, I would be acting outside of their approval as well.”

  “What happened to the Otina, Jii? I mean, I get you are beyond ancient, but where are the young Otina?”

  “About three thousand years after mosar had saturated our people, the birthrate began to collapse.”

  “It altered your reproductive abilities?” Williams asked.

  “No, it can’t create physical modifications,” Jii said. “Mosar affects our minds, our knowledge.”

  “So it killed your procreative drive.”

  “In a sense. It developed urges in us to focus in other areas: exploration, technology, knowledge. It even focused us to study mosar itself. Anything which would slow our birthrates. Subtle. But all too effective.”

  “Why?” asked Alex. “What would be the point?”

  “Because it was done with them,” said Williams. “If the Otina didn’t have an incredibly long natural lifespan, and the technology to increase it many multiple times, they would have probably died out by now. As it is, there were probably not more than six or seven generations of Otina after mosar decided it was done with them.”

  “You are close in your calculations, Doctor. Nine generations, and then a few lines after. But no more. There hasn’t been a new Otina born in over fifteen hundred years.”

  “And this is what mosar will do to everyone? Once they have taken a race far enough to help saturate the galaxy, they will just stop letting that race continue.”

  Jii nodded. “That’s it precisely. Mosar acts as a parasite, then develops a symbiotic relationship, and eventually becomes a predator.”

  “And this fleet is the predator form?”

  “That’s unclear. We don’t have enough information.”

  “Why not? How’d you get this information anyway?” Alex asked.

  “Our great leader, Daolus, was taken by mosar as he listened to the plan we were developing to fight back. I was at the podium when Daolus pulled a weapon and started killing the members of my team. His own security forces subdued him, but several of them were taken by mosar at the same time. There was a dreadful battle in the great hall. When Daolus was restrained, mosar started taunting us through him. It told us of our doom. It told us how futile our efforts were. It said the fleet was already on its way. That the fate of our galaxy was sealed.”

  “It spoke through him? It controlled him?”

  Jii nodded. “Yes. When it matures, it tries to take control. Most races will never live long enough to experience it. But the Otina know mosar as more than a general, future threat to the galaxy. We know it as a personal threat. One which can strip away our will should we ever break.”

  “It fights for control inside of you?”

  “Yes.”

  The room grew silent. Alex knew he had a question to ask, but he didn’t know how to ask it. He looked at Williams and saw the furrowed brows of the former marine. He wondered if Williams struggled with the question as well.

  “What question is mosar blocking?” Alex asked.

  Jii jerked back as if struck.

  Alex started to turn and leave the room, but h
e forced his leg to stay still.

  “You want to ask if I am taking this mission because I am afraid mosar will take me soon,” Jii said.

  Williams exhaled. “Yes, that is the question I couldn’t put into words.” He turned to Alex. “How do you know, Alex?

  “I could feel it. Jii explained a few things to me on the day we dropped warp at Ancelon. He told me the mosar in us can be affected by the mosar in him. That if we are careful, we can identify when it is manipulating us.”

  “Mosar was preventing us from asking the question?”

  “It had identified what you wanted to know and was causing your neural pathways to think of other things,” Jii said. “What Ramirez did was shocking to mosar. He ignored the block rather than try to overcome it.”

  “Warlord Jii, report to the command rom,” Cowboy’s voice came over the ship’s comm.

  “Excuse me,” Jii said as he turned on the intercom in William’s cabin.

  “I take it they are leaving, Captain.”

  “They are, Jii, just like you said they would. We’re ready if you want to start the engines.”

  “No engines, Captain. Use thrusters to move us to another location in the field. Let’s see if our sensors pick up any ships they may have left behind.”

  “Will do,” Cowboy said.

  Jii turned off the intercom.

  “I came here to let you both know we will be on our way soon. The Otina have scanned for us and while they did not see us leave, they may believe we have slipped away from them by now.”

  “The moon dust in the ship’s design prevents the mature mosar from sensing us.” Williams said.

  Jii nodded.

  “We are prey on the run and they know they must keep us in sight. If we elude them for too long, they fear we will reach our destination,” Alex muttered.

  “You have a new course plotted?” Williams asked.

  “I do. It will take us a few weeks longer, but there is little chance we will be intercepted.”

  “What if we are?” asked Alex.

  Jii smiled at the marine. “Then you will have to blast our way clear again.”

  The alien left the cabin and turned toward the cockpit.

  “Another few weeks of waiting,” Alex said. “This has already been the longest I have been ship bound.”

  “When I was on the Colorado, it was almost two years. But we surfaced every ten to fifteen days. It wasn’t really necessary, but just breaking the surface and knowing we could get clean air helped with the crazies. This is different, and not just because we can’t surface.”

  Alex nodded. “It is. And did you notice he never answered the question?”

  “Did he need to? I think we all knew the answer. I’m sure Jii has to choose which battles to fight and which ones to give in on.”

  Alex shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the case, Carl. I think Jii is at the point where he can’t give an inch. He’s stretched too tight. The slightest move could snap him.”

  Williams leaned back on his bunk.

  “How can we trust anything anymore?”

  “We have to trust ourselves,” said Alex. “Even if we suspect mosar might be influencing us.”

  “That isn’t going to be easy. How can we discern between our own instinct and mosar’s influence?”

  Alex didn’t answer. He didn’t know.

  Chapter 11

  Kyle answered the call on the second ring.

  “Martin. Go,” he said.

  “Ambassador, there’s a problem,” McAllen said.

  Kyle’s liason with the Global Science Foundation sounded stressed.

  “What is it, Greg?”

  “Have you seen the news from New York?”

  “No, I had a late night and turned off my alarm. I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”

  “Pull up a news source.”

  Kyle had pulled up his system and had pulled up the news as he answered Greg.

  “A collision at JFK?”

  “Two planes, a 777 and a DC-14.”

  “That’s horrible. But why call me?”

  “The 14 was a private plane. It was the British Ambassador’s plane. Ambassador Hutchins was on board along with Ambassador Valaskov.”

  Kyle shook his head. He wanted to make sure he heard it right.

  “The British and the Russian Ambassadors were on one of those planes?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Casualty reports in yet?”

  “No survivors from either plane according to sources at the scene.”

  “This is bad news. I’ll head to New York immediately.”

  “No, sir, that’s why I called you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Chancellor Wu called an emergency meeting of the Security Council ten minutes before the accident. They’re meeting now.”

  Kyle froze.

  “They’re going to remove Kitch.”

  “That’s what I believe, yes.”

  McAllen had been an attaché for Kitch during the Otina war. He had retired from Earth Forces less than six months later and had found his feet as part of the PR team for the Foundation.

  “You know, or you believe?”

  “Sir, it’s too dangerous for you to come to New York. Except maybe by train.”

  “Understood, Greg. I’ll stay put.”

  Kyle hung up the phone as he hurried to the kitchen. He still needed coffee, but he suddenly had a very busy day in front of him. He called his daughter as he prepared the fresh grounds.

  “Sara? It’s dad. When you get this message, just come over to the house. The plants need watering.”

  Kyle hated he had to speak in code to his own daughter, but the news out of New York made him fear for her safety. When she heard the message, she would know their house was not safe. The safe house she would need to get to was Davies’. The retired general and his wife had agreed to shelter Sara if there was any need. Her new fiancé would be welcome there as well. Kyle had been out late helping the happy couple celebrate setting their wedding date.

  He drank his coffee as he packed his bag. A quick call to a neighbor would secure him a ride to the bus station. There were two ways Kyle could travel to New York in a situation like this, by bus or by train. McAllen had mentioned the train, which meant it wasn’t safe. The bus would be safe, though. No one would look for the Earth Ambassador to the Galactic Council on a passenger bus from Virginia to New York. At least Kyle hoped not.

  The security at the bus station wasn’t as good as those for planes or trains, but Kyle still chose not to carry his sidearm. He had put it in his nightstand when he returned from the Iltia’cor surrender at the end of Earth’s first interstellar war and hadn’t touched it since.

  His instincts told him to take it, but he pushed them aside.

  “I am a diplomat now, not a Marine,” he muttered to himself.

  He pulled his phone and called his neighbor. Harry and Cathy were on vacation, but Kyle knew the code for their garage. And he had a spare key to their car.

  Their land line picked up after the second ring. “Harry, this is Kyle. Not bad. Hey, I’m out of creamer. Mind if I run over and get some? Great. Thanks.”

  Kyle left the house in a sweatshirt and jeans. He had a black backpack slung over his shoulder as he walked through his backyard gate and to the side door of Harry’s garage. Kyle punched in the access code and stepped inside. A quick exterior check of the car made him feel both foolish and safer.

  A couple of minutes later, he was on the road and on his way to the bus station in Springfield.

  He turned on his tablet to listen to the news as he drove. The stations were just announcing who was onboard the DC-14 and there was speculation there was a mix-up with air traffic control. The DC-14 was told to taxi onto a hot strip and the 777 was already cleared for approach.

  Kyle shook his head as he drove. If Wu didn’t know there would be an accident, then the plane could have turned back and both the British and Russian Ambas
sadors would have been able to make the meeting in time.

  He kept trying to find a scenario where Wu wouldn’t have known about the accident beforehand. He couldn’t.

  Kyle parked the car at a meter and dashed into the bus station. He bought a round trip ticket using an ID from his backpack under a false name and took a seat on the bus near the front. He wanted a clear view of anyone who entered and wanted a quick way to exit the bus. When the bus left the station, Kyle pulled up his tablet.

  The bus traveled through the Metroplex as Kyle scanned for any information about the wreck or the Security Council meeting. They had just entered Baltimore when news broke that the Council had reconsidered its decision from two weeks earlier and had removed General Kitch as Commander of Earth Forces.

  This was what he feared. He would arrive in New York too late to do anything about it, but he still hoped to surprise them by appearing at the building unannounced and unexpected.

  Twenty minutes later, a news flash popped up on Kyle’s screen.

  There was gunfire heard at the United Nations compound.

  Kyle pulled the live images to full size and stared.

  People ran from one particular building and Kyle felt panic seize him. It was the headquarters for Earth Forces. Then he saw four men, all in black tactical gear, go into a side door of the building. He saw another soldier lay down suppressive fire as they entered. The reporter detailed the sound of flash grenades and pointed to the fourth floor. The window on the southwest corner was broken and black smoke flowed from the shattered structure. That was Kitch’s corner.

  Kyle gritted his teeth. Wu didn’t just want her removed from office, he intended to kill her.

  He wished he hadn’t left his sidearm in the drawer, but if they were going after Kitch with tactical troops, it wouldn’t do him much good.