by Jim Laughter
Stan held out his hand and George handed the carving back. He noticed what appeared to be writing on one side.
“I know a few captains that fly them.”
Stan’s thoughts turned to Leatha, then to Delmar.
Crossing the room to a desk with a bright light, Stan carefully studied the carving. He took out a pocket magnifier and examined the tiny script closely.
Stan let out an involuntary gasp. George got up and came over to see what had alarmed him. Stan handed the magnifier to George and pointed to the script. In lightly carved letters he read AR-237 in Axia script.
Stan turned and faced George, looking him directly in his eyes. He had to be sure the scout captain wasn’t playing some kind of trick on him. The expression on Citti’s face assured Stan he was as surprised at the script revelation as he was. A glimmer of hope began to form on his insides.
“Now George, I need you to be completely honest with me. No tricks. You understand?”
George nodded.
“This could be a matter of life or death. It’s very important.”
Again, George nodded.
“I need to know exactly where you got this,” Stan said intensely.
“Like I said, back on that planet I just left,” George answered. “Why?”
“Because I think I know what this is an image of,” Stan said.
He pushed up out of the desk chair and began to pace.
“I believe this is a carving of an FAR ship that belongs to a friend.”
“You mean your friend has already made contact with these natives?” George asked. “I detected no other ships in the entire system.”
“As well you shouldn’t have,” Stan answered, coming to a decision. “Because my friend is listed as killed in action and his ship destroyed when the last Sector 2046-W mothership was destroyed.”
∞∞∞
“So you haven’t seen him either?” Walter asked the doctor.
“Not since yesterday morning. And he seemed fine. He said he had things to do.”
“I wonder what sort of urgent business this could be?” Walter asked. “Do you think it may have something to do with Abby Henke?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Doctor Murphy answered as he took his hat and coat down off of the rack.
Discussing the situation with both Mrs. Milton and Abby yielded no additional information.
“Do you think something happened to him?” Abby asked anxiously.
“That’s hard to say,” Doctor Murphy answered.
By unspoken consent, he had become the unofficial leader in this investigation.
“No one else has seen him since yesterday. Only Walter has any evidence that he was in town this morning.”
“And that must have been pretty early, judging from the fire,” Walter added. “I would say the latest he was at the shop was probably an hour before sunrise.”
“I think we need more help,” Abby said.
The two men rose as Abby grabbed her coat and scarf out of the cloak alcove.
“I’m going to see Sheriff Stoddard and then check the airpark.”
∞∞∞
The ever-increasing search for Del failed to turn up any sign of the young man. Abby checked the hanger where the flyer he was working on was stored. There was no sign of him there either.
“Maybe he remembered where he came from,” Walter suggested.
“No, that doesn’t fit,” the doctor replied. “He would have said so in the note. He and I have an agreement concerning any recovered memory clues. I’m afraid he may have suffered a relapse. It happens sometimes in cases of extended amnesia.”
“I wonder if those varmints that attacked him could have something to do with it?” the sheriff asked suspiciously.
“If so, why would he leave a note?” Abby asked rhetorically.
“Maybe he ventured back out into the foothills and they attacked him again,” the sheriff countered. “In any case, I don’t like it.”
“None of us do,” the doctor concluded for all of them. “I guess we’ll find out when Del shows up and tells us. In the meantime, I think we best all go back to whatever we were doing and wait.”
∞∞∞
ERT, Stan typed into George’s onboard computer console. Sitting back, he waited a moment for his computer friend to reply.
HELLO STAN, the screen printed. HOW CAN I HELP YOU?
“How did you do that?” George asked. “And who is Ert? And how did he access my secure computer?”
“He’s a friend,” Stan answered. “As for how he accesses any computer system is beyond me. He just does.”
Stan turned back to the keyboard.
I THINK WE MAY HAVE ANOTHER CLUE CONCERNING WHAT HAPPENED TO DELMAR, Stan entered excitedly. CAN YOU RECEIVE GRAPHIC VISUALS ON THIS CONNECTION?
OF COURSE, Ert replied. USE YOUR SCANNER AND I’LL DO THE REST.
While George watched, Stan set the carving on the desk and arranged the bright desk light to shine on it. He then waved the desktop hand-held scanner wand over it. Completing the scan, Stan turned it over and repeated the process. Finally, he had George hold it while he scanned it from both ends. He paid special attention to the tiny script on one side.
I HAVE SEVERAL GOOD IMAGES. I CAN SEE WHY YOU’RE SO EXCITED. WHERE WAS THIS ARTIFACT FOUND?
Stan looked at George who rattled off the coordinates of where he’d bought the carving. Stan quickly typed the information into the computer.
THANK YOU, Ert printed. I’VE BEEN ABLE TO LOCATE THE PLANET AND THE GENERAL AREA. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO ABOUT IT?
Stan thought for a moment and then began to type. I WANT TO START A COVERT SEARCH. IS THERE ANY WAY YOU CAN CONTACT LEATHA? THE SPEED AND CAPABILITIES OF A FAR SHIP WOULD HELP CONSIDERABLY.
I’LL SEE WHAT I CAN DO, Ert replied. SHE’S CURRENTLY ON A MISSION, SO IT MAY TAKE SOME TIME.
THAT’S ALL ANYONE CAN ASK, Stan entered. PLEASE KEEP ME POSTED. GEORGE AND I WILL TRY TO GET STARTED ON A SEARCH FROM THIS END.
UNDERSTOOD, Ert printed. GOOD LUCK.
Stan switched off the computer as soon as Ert had logged off. Looking at George, he grinned and stood up. “Well, I think I have a visit to make.”
“What’s this I business?” George asked. “I’m in this whether you like it or not.”
A half hour later found both troopers in the office of the mothership commander explaining the details of their unusual find.
“Sir, we request temporary detachment to conduct a private investigation,” George said.
“What sort of investigation?” the commander asked. “The search and recovery of everyone onboard that mothership was completed months ago.”
“That’s correct, sir,” Stan said, entering the conversation. “But we have new evidence that there may be one trooper who was somehow not on that ship when the final explosion took place.”
“But all ships were accounted for,” the commander replied. “Including the one that reported in only hours before the battle.”
“That’s the ship we’re interested in,” Stan said. “Are you willing to at least hear us out?”
“Of course, I’m willing to listen. But it better be good.”
The commander leaned back in his chair and Stan looked over at George who began the narrative of his recent planet-side visit.
After several minutes, he finally he came to the part where he’d purchased the carving at the gift shop.
“It struck me how similar the carving was to an Axia patroller,” George said.
He handed the carving to the commander. The officer turned on his desk lamp and examined the carving. His eyebrows arched as he too was struck by the likeness.
“This looks like a pretty good model of one of the new FAR ships,” he commented. Then he looked up at George. “But you fly a galaxy patroller, don’t you?”
“Yes sir.”
The commander returned to his examination of the carving. Discovering the tiny script, he took a magnif
ying glass out of his desk drawer and used it to read the tiny letters. George and Stan both saw his reaction when he read the script.
Without a word, he turned to his computer terminal and brought up the files of the investigation. Looking over his shoulder, Stan saw him consult the ship registry list. The commander then accessed the visual records of the debris. In moments, the picture of the hull plate appeared on the screen.
“What about that?” the commander asked, indicating the picture.
“If you’ll magnify the part of the picture showing the edge of the hull plate, I want to show you something,” Stan suggested.
The commander did as requested and the enlarged image appeared.
“Please note sir,” Stan said, pointing, “that this piece of hull plate bears no signs of explosion or burn. The edges show signs that it was possibly ripped off of the outside of the ship, not blown off.”
The commander studied the edges for a moment and then looked up at Stan.
“There’s more, sir,” Stan continued hastily. “If you’ll check the autopsy records, you’ll find that human remains were found of all crewmembers assigned to the ship. Even if only a fingernail was found they were able to cross reference it genetically to one of the crewmembers.”
“And I suspect you’re about to tell me that the only exception is the captain of this particular ship,” the commander said without taking his eyes off of Stan.
“Yes sir, I’m,” Stan said with conviction.
The commander turned his chair and stared out through the view port for several seconds. Finally, he turned back around.
“Even a little hope at this point would serve to boost the morale of the service,” the commander began. “All right, you’ve convinced me. Go ahead and do your search. Captain Citti here knows the usual precautions to take.”
“Thank you sir,” Stan and George both echoed.
“One more thing before you go,” the commander said as the two started to rise. “I want to be the first person you tell when you get back to this ship. Several of my crew had friends on that other ship.”
Chapter Seventeen
The morning air was cold. Delmar had been walking for hours before finding a small cave to protect himself from the wind penetrating his thin jacket. The terrain was rough and rugged and it felt so alien to him. He looked at the sky, and even the hue of the atmosphere didn’t feel right.
He didn’t know how, but he knew this world wasn’t his home. He had no idea where he was at the moment or how he had gotten here. He only knew he was cold and he wanted to feel warm again. Although flashes of memories had invaded his mind, he could remember no conscious decision to hike out alone into the wild on a cold winter day. All he knew was that one minute he was lying in his bed and the next he was here in this cave.
From somewhere in the depths of his mind reverberated a male voice admonishing him. A vague image of a powerful man wearing a strange brimmed hat seemed to accompany the voice.
“If you ever find yourself in an inhospitable situation, find shelter wherever you can. If wet, seek dry shelter, and if cold, seek or create a source of heat.”
The voice faded away as Delmar tried to take stock of his situation. Thinking of heat, he found his hand sliding down his side as if in search of a weapon. But what kind of weapon could he possibly have that would serve as a heat source? Annoyed at the involuntary action, he pulled it back against his body. Then systematically, he began emptying his pockets to see what supplies he might have with him.
Besides a few scraps of paper, he found he had a box of matches from the shop. Delmar looked at them and a plan began to form in his mind. Putting the precious matches back in a safe dry pocket, he scoured around the area outside the cave, looking for wood with which to build a fire. The morning sun overhead offered little comfort and even less warmth as he began his search.
∞∞∞
Leatha was just finishing a complicated departure from a particular base when her onboard communications board activated. She’d been on a rather demanding series of runs and had finally logged out of the transit base. The next leg was less urgent and she looked forward to a more relaxing pace.
“Now what do they want?” she asked herself while the computer continued its insistent call. She reached over and flipped the comm system and answered the signal verbally.
“This is Aurora, go ahead,” she said, her annoyance reflected in her tone of voice.
“Leatha,” a mechanical voice said. “This is Ert.”
Leatha was surprised to hear from the Horicon computer. It wasn’t unusual for him to contact Stan, but she couldn’t remember the last time he’d called her directly.
Something must be wrong.
“What’s up, Ert?” she asked, suddenly thinking of Stan. She’d been worried about him and their relationship since the last time they’d been together and had separated on uncertain terms.
“I have good news for you,” Ert continued. “Your student Melissa discovered a clue that might indicate Delmar survived the attack on the mothership.”
“What!” Leatha cried. “That can’t be possible!”
“I’m afraid it is,” Ert said. “I forwarded the information to Stan and he confirmed its accuracy. He has since contacted me with more evidence that indicates the Cabbage Patch may have crash landed on an obscure closed planet called Panay.”
“Are you sure?” Leatha asked fearfully.
“Yes we are,” Ert answered. “If you’ll activate your viewscreen, I can show you.”
Leatha pressed a series of buttons on her control console. Immediately, the image of the woodcarving appeared. Leatha was struck by its likeness to a FAR ship like her own, or Delmar’s.
Ert continued.
“This carving and others like it were just discovered on this isolated planet. It was definitely not a likeness of the scout ship that recovered it. Stan discovered the other important clue.”
The image enlarged until Leatha could see tiny script on the side.
“Now look closer,” Ert instructed as he further magnified the image. Immediately, the letters spelling out AR-237 appeared.
“The report of the scout captain said this carving was made by a tribe of local aborigines on the planet,” Ert said. “Stan and the scout captain are en route to investigate. They request your assistance.”
“But I’m on assignment! I’m due at Shalimar the day after tomorrow.”
“I’ve already put a call through to Shalimar. You should receive new orders releasing you for temporary assignment to Sector 2046-W.”
As if in response, the screen on her comm center displayed an order. Leatha was able to read it as it scrolled.
“The orders just arrived,” she informed Ert as she hit the acknowledgement key. “Tell Stan I’m on my way.”
“I’ll feed the coordinates of the planet and search grid into your navigational system.”
As she swung the Aurora around on the new heading, she had an afterthought.
“Ert, contact Jake and Sherry Sender. I think they’re going to be needed on Erdinata again.”
“Understood,” Ert replied. “I’ll keep you and Stan posted.”
The comm signal ended with a click as Ert disconnected from his end and the Aurora accelerated into the vastness of space.
∞∞∞
The day was already starting to wane when George Citti brought his Galaxy Class scout ship in over the countryside where the town was located. Outside sensors told him the weather had turned considerably colder since he’d left only a few days ago. The greater speed of the Reacher was much faster than the rendezvous ship that had dropped him off and picked back up on his last mission to the planet. The journey out from the mothership had only taken two days instead of the usual six.
Being careful to avoid being seen, he set the ship down in a box canyon outside of town. Using his topographical sensors, he located a cave large enough to hold the Reacher and expertly glided the ship through the opening
. After shutting down, he went back to a storage locker.
“Here, put these on,” he said to Stan, tossing him a set of rough clothes. “If we’re going to search, we better fit in as best we can.”
Without a word, Stan pulled the clothes on over his utility uniform. George suited up in similar fashion and they prepared to go out into the cold.
“I haven’t had time to teach you any of the local dialect, and they don’t speak Axia Standard, so you better keep your mouth shut,” George advised. “In a pinch, I’ll pass you off as a visitor from overseas.”
“Understood,” Stan said. “Let’s go.”
“I guess the best place to start our search is the gift shop where I found the carving,” George commented as he activated the automatic transponder on his ship. That way Leatha would have no difficulty finding them when she arrived overhead. Even at a FAR’s best speed, she was still at least a day away.
Together, the two troopers exited the scout ship and ventured into the cold afternoon. It only took an hour of determined hiking to reach the small flag station on the rail line.
Consulting his pocket watch, George looked down the track.
“If the train is on schedule, it should be here in about ten minutes,” he said. “It will take us into Fern Gulch where the gift shop is located. I just hope the old man knows where the aborigine tribe is that made that carving.”
“And I hope they know where that ship is located,” Stan added.
A short train ride found the two troopers stepping off at the station in Fern Gulch. George led the way in the gathering twilight toward the gift shop. The streets and walkways were mostly deserted at this hour. It had turned bitterly cold and everyone was home trying to stay warm.
Arriving at the store, they found the proprietor had already closed up shop and gone home for the evening. By pressing his face against the window, Stan could barely make out a selection of other carvings similar to the one George had displayed on a shelf aboard his ship.
“That does it for tonight,” George concluded.
He turned back toward the street.
“Let’s find food and shelter so we can begin the search in the morning.”
