Return to Dakistee (A Galaxy Unknown, Book 8)

by Thomas DePrima

  "Obviously, Dr. Peterson feels we're uniquely qualified to handle this problem, whatever it is. I can't be gone for six months and Eliza is out on patrol, so that leaves only you for this special assignment, Commander."

  Christa understood from the use of her rank that it wasn't a request. And, sister or not, one doesn't argue with an Admiral when given an assignment. "Okay, sis. When do I leave?"

  "The Quartermaster vessel Roberts is scheduled to depart in a few hours. They're expecting you to be aboard. I've ordered their route altered so they'll pass Dakistee. They'll drop you off near the planet so you won't have to make other connections. As it is, you'll be underway at Light-9790 for almost fifty days."

  "Aye, Admiral. Uh, I trust I won't lose my position aboard the Hephaestus while I'm on this temporary duty?"

  "I understand your concern. Each time I was assigned temporary duty off the Prometheus, I feared I would never return to the job I really wanted. I promise you that if you complete this assignment within six months, your post will be waiting. You remain part of my command, so if something unexpected happens to delay your return, I'll find you another ship as soon as you're available for a posting. I've notified Admiral Holt that you'll be on special assignment in his sectors and asked him to provide whatever assistance is within his ability to provide."

  "Then I guess I'd better get going," Christa said as she took a large gulp from the mug and returned it to the beverage center for automatic cleansing. "I don't want to cause a delay in the Roberts's departure."

  Jenetta rose and came around the desk to walk Christa to the door. "Christa, be careful. If this is another cloning lab, I'm sure the Raiders know about it already. The war out here has displaced many of the ships that were on patrol in Region One, so help may not be as close as you'd like when you need it. Report to me as soon as you know what the situation is and I'll do everything I can to provide the support you need."

  Christa smiled. "Okay, sis. Ya know, I'm already warming to the idea of returning to Dakistee. It's been a long time since we were there. I bet things have changed a lot."

  "I'm sure you're right. When our books were published, Dakistee became the place to be for every archeologist in the GA. I understand the Expedition Headquarters staff on Anthius was inundated with applications for a while. They were said to be approving requests and assigning at least two new dig locations every single day. I wonder what the original planetary occupants would say if they could see how the scientists fawn over stuff they probably considered garbage, just because it's old."

  "Well, that's nothing new. When we went to museums back on Earth when we were small, I remember seeing ancient pottery shards, broken arrowheads, and shattered bone knives. But I think the low point on Dakistee came when a publication ran a picture of a twenty-thousand-year-old disposable diaper, complete with fossilized fecal matter."

  Jenetta chuckled. "Yes, I remember that. But who are we to say it doesn't have some archeological value?"

  "At least it was long past the odorous stage."

  "Yes. Too bad. That could have made for an interesting adjunct to the museum display. Imagine the display's audio introduction just before they activated the scent generator." After the two women shared a chuckle, Jenetta continued with, "But I'm sure they never seriously contemplated putting the find on display. Its usefulness is probably limited to providing dietary information from the period."

  "Perhaps, but I always get a laugh out of imagining the excitement of the archeologists who made the discovery."

  "Just think, in two months you'll be able to observe them up close," Jenetta said, giving her a slight push towards the door.

  "Okay, I'm going," Christa said with a grin, then turned and hugged her sister for a couple of seconds.

  "See you when you return, sis," Jenetta said.

  * * *

  There was a transport waiting outside and a special shuttle waiting at the palace landing pad. Upon reaching the Hephaestus, Christa hastily packed her spacechest and then reported to the Captain. He was in his ready room on the bridge and the door opened as she approached.

  "Come in, Christa," Captain Powers said as she entered. "The Admiral has notified me that you've received a special assignment and that you'll be leaving immediately. She said you won't be back for at least four months, but offered nothing else. Can you talk about it?"

  "I don't know very much yet, sir. An archeologist on Dakistee sent an urgent request beseeching the Admiral to come as quickly as possible. She's asked me to go in her place since she can't get away."

  "Dakistee, huh? Probably another cloning lab. Still, that's a long way to go when you don't know why you're going. You were born there, were you?"

  "Yes, sir. I'm one of only seventy-nine citizens of the planet. I'm looking forward to seeing it again, but I hope to make the trip and return quickly so I can resume my duties here."

  "Now that the war has ended, things are calming down. If your return should be delayed, I'll do everything in my power to keep your post open for you. You're a valuable member of this crew and I'd hate to lose you."

  "Thank you, sir. I would much rather be here than going to Dakistee."

  Captain Powers smiled. "You're just like your sister. You want to be aboard a ship more than anything in the galaxy, but you go where sent without complaint and do your best. You're an excellent officer, Commander, and I'll miss your services until you return."

  "Thank you, sir. I'll be back just as soon as possible."

  * * *

  Upon reporting aboard the Roberts, Christa was escorted to guest quarters in officer country. As she settled in, the enormous Quartermaster ship left orbit at Quesann with its next planned stop being Dakistee. A special shuttle, delivered to the Roberts for Christa's use while she was on Dakistee, was parked in one of the Roberts' flight bays.

  * * *

  "Welcome to my humble retreat, Excellency," Sebaqd Gxidescu said to Nordakian high priest Kledoujk Vejrezzol as he opened the front door of his vacation lodge to the visitor.

  "It is my honor to be welcomed here," Vejrezzol replied in customary fashion as he stepped quickly inside and pushed the door closed. While approaching the building he had ascertained that, as ordered, all windows were shuttered, so he felt comfortable pulling back the hood that shielded his identity from anyone who might be watching from the woods or via satellite. He knew his home was being watched and delighted in knowing he was always able to easily evade the people who tried to follow him.

  "The others are already here, Excellency," Gxidescu said.

  "Good," Vejrezzol said as he removed the heavy cloak and draped it over his arm. "Show me the way."

  Gxidescu turned and walked towards the rear of the house with Vejrezzol close behind. Although Gxidescu called it a vacation lodge, the house was massive and seldom used, if the sheets covering the furniture were any indication. It was just one of the innumerous perks typically afforded to those who, although not members of the nobility, were important business leaders with close ties to the church. The land was part of the estate belonging to the family Ukaloctqul, but had long ago been 'assigned in perpetuity' to the church for their use.

  Their route took them almost to the kitchen at the rear of the house and then down a flight of stairs to the basement. Gxidescu shoved open a huge door and then pushed it closed after he and Vejrezzol had entered the large room. Ten men seated around a table in the center of the room jumped to their feet as Vejrezzol entered.

  "It's safe to talk openly in here, Excellency," Gxidescu said. "The room has been swept for bugs and no sound can pass through the door or walls."

  Vejrezzol nodded and took time to scan the faces of the men at the table as if searching for signs of nervousness or doubt. Finding none, he said, "Be seated, gentlemen."

  The high priest took his place at the head of the table, while Gxidescu took a seat at the opposite end. From their vantage points, both leaders could establish eye contact with any of the others who constituted t
he inner circle of Vejrezzol's dissident sect. "Report," was all Vejrezzol said as he looked at the first man on his left.

  "The freighter is in orbit and ready to begin loading. The captain has been well paid and is prepared to take on twenty of our followers as crew."

  Vejrezzol nodded and looked at the next man, who immediately began his report.

  "The containers that will hold our five-year food supply have been delivered and loaded. This includes the emergency rations. As planned, the fresh food will be loaded in refrigerated containers just before we're ready to leave."

  Vejrezzol nodded again and shifted his gaze to the next man.

  "The medical equipment and supplies have been loaded into containers and are ready for transport. The supplies with expiration dates will be delivered just before we're ready to leave to ensure they're as fresh as possible. All suppliers have been compensated for the supplies we've ordered and are only awaiting notification of our ship date. All will be ready."

  "The 'farm equipment' and 'seed packs' have been procured and loaded into the special containers," the next man said in turn. "We're ready to send the loads up."

  The last man on that side of the table spoke up as Vejrezzol looked towards him.

  "The home furnishings and personal possessions of our followers are ready for transshipment, except for what they will bring as carry-on luggage."

  Vejrezzol shifted his eyes to the other side of the table and the reports continued.

  "The complete knowledge base of our people has been downloaded from the Royal Library and is securely stored in several containers."

  "I assume it doesn't contain any copies of the new Almuth?" Vejrezzol asked.

  "Of course not, Excellency."

  "Very good."

  Vejrezzol continued around the table, receiving reports on building materials, power generation and water purification equipment, livestock, communications equipment, clothing, and necessities such as paper and pens, cookware, sewing supplies, etc. The last man to report said, "The people who have traveled off planet in anticipation of this day have been collected from their locations and are all aboard. To the best of our knowledge, no one outside this group knows just how large the flock is."

  "Excellent," Vejrezzol said when all reports were complete. "The day we have planned for and worked towards for so many annuals is almost upon us. When Azula Carver delivered the blasphemous document she alleges to be the original Almuth, we all knew that our ancestors would never have followed such a vile lifestyle as is espoused in that text. Why the nobility supported it and the leaders of our church accepted it as genuine we shall probably never know. But we do know that once we are out from under the thumb of the royal family and their puppets in the church, we will be able to live the lives God intended for us. I shall notify you all very soon of the departure date."

  "Has the government given any indication that they intend to stop us or attempt to stop us?" Gxidescu asked.

  "None, nor should they. We are free citizens of Nordakia and the Galactic Alliance, exercising our right to travel outside our home solar system. Slabeca has no planetary government and is not protected by the Galactic Alliance Bureau of Alien Affairs, so they cannot require us to secure advance entry permits. My friends, I promise you this— when we reach our destination, the entire galaxy will know of the sacrilege that forced us to abandon our homes on Nordakia and travel to a distant solar system. They will understand the reasons for the acts we have perpetrated and support our cause as just, no matter how many die in our struggle. Anything is acceptable when it's done by the hand of the righteous in the name of God."

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  ~ April 24th, 2285 ~

  "That's him leaving now," one of the analysts said to the group of senior officers watching the monitors in the command center.

  Images from satellites and 'oh-gee' floating surveillance cameras filled an entire wall of the enormous operations room. Special housings, employing the battle armor technology used by Space Marines that rendered the wearer almost invisible, left little chance the cameras would be spotted. Images of the panorama behind the unit were projected onto the housing front, but a slight rippling effect might be detected if the camera was being repositioned. At night, the surveillance equipment was virtually undetectable. With the right sensors, it could be located by heat signature, but, due to the cooling feature built into the armor, chances of identifying the presence of the equipment were infinitesimal. The floating cameras had become the favorite tool of people performing surveillance work, although satellites still had a place.

  "How can you possibly tell who's beneath that cloak?" one of the officers asked. "It could be almost anybody."

  "The equipment uses a number of measurements when attempting to identify a suspect," the analyst said. "It has estimated his height and weight using the dimensions of objects in the environment and the impression he's left in loose soil surrounding the lodge, plus it can compare the gait of the subject with those of previously recorded instances where identification was positive. Every person walks in a different manner, and you can't fool the system for long, even if you're trying. The computer lists the probability of accuracy in this surveillance to be 99.99%. It's him, sir."

  As the oh-gee vehicle departed the site, the computer announced that a routing plan entered into the vehicle's GPS device would take it to the home of Nordakian high priest Kledoujk Vejrezzol, albeit by an indirect route.

  "That would seem to leave little doubt it was him," one of the senior officers said. "Shall we continue our conversation in the secure conference room?"

  As the door to the conference room slid silently shut, Admiral Cjolaku spoke first. "From what we know of their plans, the dissidents are ready to depart the planet. The Prime Minister has expressed his firm belief that they'll attempt to initiate a great catastrophe on our home world timed to occur after they've gone. He said he has excellent reason for his speculation, although he can't name the source. Our job is to ensure it doesn't happen."

  "Sir, did the Prime Minister mention what type of catastrophic event they might be planning?" Commander Rlerqsop asked.

  "He suggested it might be a mass poisoning or a pandemic. We'll have to be extra watchful of people who work in any field dealing with mass distribution of products, especially pharmaceuticals and food. All water reservoir security forces must be placed on heightened alert."

  "Every agent on the planet, including a cell composed of retired agents reactivated just for this operation, are watching all known members of this group," Rlerqsop said. "I'll update their orders immediately to include this latest information. If the dissidents attempt anything, we'll know."

  "Hopefully in time to stop them," the admiral said.

  "Yes, sir."

  "If they do perpetrate a great disaster, they won't escape justice," Commander Bloljuxa said. "A Space Command vessel will be monitoring their progress for at least their first month after leaving Nordakia to ensure they really are headed for Slabeca."

  "Whatever made them choose Slabeca as their destination?" Rlerqsop asked. "It's a hot, dirty little planet with limited mineral resources."

  "They say they intend to follow the plan of our ancestors who colonized this world millennia ago," Bloljuxa said. "On Slabeca, the dissidents will be free to establish a colony where they can follow the dictates of their false Almuth. There's no government, and the existing colonies are small and widely scattered. They say the lack of mineral resources makes the planet unattractive to mining operations with their corrupting influences."

  "Yes, but Slabeca? Most of it's an arid wasteland because it orbits too close to its star."

  "They believe the planet is ideal for their intended agrarian society because it's of so little value for anything else. It's certain that it will never be a tourist destination. The dissidents have purchased massive irrigation system supplies, in addition to their farm equipment, seeds and agricultural supplies. They believe they'll
turn it into a lush paradise."

  "Lotsa luck with that one. I think they'll be on their way back to Nordakia within two years."

  "Vejrezzol has made everyone sign papers renouncing their Nordakian citizenship and the documents will be filed officially after they depart. They can't come back."

  "They're all Nordakian born," Rlerqsop said. "If they petition to come back, I'm sure the government will restore their citizenship, unless they've attempted to perpetrate crimes during their absence, such as attempts of mass poisonings of Nordakian citizens."

  "The only thing I don't understand," Bloljuxa said, "is why the women among the dissidents wish to go. The false Almuth stripped women of all privileges and made them virtual slaves in the household. The Royal family had worked at reforms long before Azula Carver returned the One True Word to our people. If the dissidents follow the dictates of the false Almuth we've reviewed, the situation on Slabeca will be ten times worse than at any time here during the past century."

  "I can't answer that one," Rlerqsop said, "other than to say that I don't think they fully understand what they're getting themselves into. I think they might have romanticized this back-to-basics philosophy. It's one of the reasons I believe they'll be begging to come back within two years. Life on Slabeca won't be easy for anyone, but I pity the women most."

  * * *

  Prime Minister Kulhwolpk hurried to the door and pulled it open. "Come in, Most Holy," he said to the distinguished-looking Nordakian who had just arrived in his outer office as he stepped back to allow entry.

  "Thank you, Prime Minister," the priest said as he stepped through the doorway. As a Jtagual, Chlakqu Rtjweefkla occupied one of the five highest positions in the Nordakian priesthood.

  "Shall we sit in my informal area, Most Holy?" Kulhwolpk asked, gesturing toward the oh-gee seating in a side alcove. "These seats are far more comfortable than the office chairs."

  "That would be most satisfactory," Rtjweefkla said and walked in that direction.