Charles rewound the recording and listened to those last words again – and again. They were the last words his friend said. The original long-range scans of the planet came back negative. No life, except some small foliage animals and several types of birds could be found, but nothing else, not even insects. Vincent tried to tell him that was impossible, on most worlds some vegetation could not flourish without insects – yet the scans did not lie. Listening to the recording one last time Charles swore he heard a deep growl in the distance. But on another listen he didn’t hear a thing.
Could some other lifeform have arrived on the planet after the original scans? Charles wondered. Or were there indigenous life on the planet that the scanners couldn’t register?
“Have you heard?” Jonna Grace asked when she came into the office tripping over a stack of ancient journals she didn’t see in the middle of the floor.
Charles stood from his chair, tucked down his brown vest, straightened his tie and arched his back. He’d sat in the desk chair too long and his bones reminded him he wasn’t twenty-two anymore. He cleared his thoughts of Vincent and studied his student, staring at her down his narrow nose. “You don’t have to yell girl.”
Jonna looked up at Charles who stood much taller than her. She brushed her light chocolate bangs out of her eyes. “Sorry prof.”
Charles forced a smile. It wasn’t his idea to bring the girl on as a student. Vincent knew how to get what he wanted, and Charles gave in, like he always did. He hated to admit that the girl possessed a keen aptitude for history and she picked up on things with ease. There weren’t many girls at sixteen that had total recall. A photographic memory came in handy and could be a damn nuisance when Charles wanted to win in an argument.
Charles picked up a stack of paper maps from top his desk. He filed them in place on a dusty shelf, from top to bottom in alphabetical order, he noticed Jonna staring at him.
“Uh, you know you could use a hand device to store your maps. No need for filing that way.”
“I like old things,” Charles said not looking at Jonna. “They remind me of things we’ve lost.”
“Like your desk,” Jonna said wiping her fingers across the top of the neat and tidy surface. Of all the clutter throughout the room, Charles’ desk remained pristine and clean most of the time. “This is the only real wood I've seen before.”
“You’ll see plenty of wood soon enough – when you go planet side on Kepler 369.”
“Oh… oh that’s what I meant to tell you prof. We’re headed back to Earth.”
Charles stopped filing his maps and dropped them back to the top of his desk. “What do you mean we’re going back to Earth?”
Jonna nodded her head. “Word came down from flight control. Guess Requiem’s getting a new master before we go to Kepler 369.”
Charles hardened his stance and turned away from the shelves. He had half the nerve to rush up to flight control and demand they go to 369 at once. How could they? He should make them listen. He knew that wouldn’t work, and he’d end up being thrown into confinement – or worse. Then what would come of Vincent?
“Damn it!”
“I’m sorry prof.”
Charles looked at Jonna and gave her a thin smile. “I’m just worried about Vincent. After fifteen years of excavating worlds we knew it would only be a matter of time before something like this would happen.”
“You mean not hearing from him?”
“No, that's not what I mean. Over the years we have found and surveyed worlds where the populations died. Our hypothesis is they died in a war... or something. Maybe Vincent found a world where the inhabitants weren't killed.”
“Are you sure that’s what happened?” Jonna asked.
Charles didn't reply. At this point he hoped he was right, though he knew he probably wasn't. He was just grabbing for anything that could be used to figure out what happened to Vincent.
“Charles did you hear?” Doctor Hyta Winter stormed into the office. She hobbled on her old brass cane, sidestepping the stack of old journals as if she was the one that put them on the floor. “Charles!” she snapped again. Her wrinkled face smooched together.
Charles looked at Hyta. An older woman, Hyta had a hip replacement several years ago. She’d never walked the same since. If it wasn’t for the old woman’s knowledge of history, the Tannadors might have returned her to Earth. Where she would have ended up on Ioshia station and forgotten about. “Yes, I heard.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Hyta asked, annoyed.
“Do? What do you mean… do?” Charles asked. “We go back to Earth and wait.”
“Whose damn idea was this? Probably Hek’Dara – the old man is more a fool with every passing year.”
“Hyta,” Jonna said is a deep whisper and pointed at the ORACLE system pulsating near the door.
The old woman sat down in Charles’ chair and slammed her cane onto the wooden desk. “We wait while every minute Vincent might need our help. A new master for the ship – Hek’Dara is too old!”
Again, Jonna snapped, “Hyta!”
“The longer we wait, the better chance Vincent will be dead.”
“You think I don’t know that Doctor Winter?” Charles snapped.
Hyta’s old wrinkly face went flush. “Sorry, Charles, I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just upset at the situation.”
Charles’ voice calmed. “We are all upset, Hyta and your apology is accepted.”
“With no contact from Vincent for nearly two weeks you’d think the urgency would be to get to him,” Hyta said. “He might have found something – and what do the high-born do about it – nothing!” She choked on her words and looked at the ORACLE.
“You think it might be aliens?”
“Aliens? Charles, are you filling this young girl’s head with stories?”
“I’m doing nothing of the kind. I’m stating facts,” Charles replied.
“Then tell us some.”
Charles wasn’t sure if telling Jonna everything he knew was a good idea. With the ORACLE system always watching, he kept most of his information to himself. It took him and Vincent several years to come up with a working theory and keeping their discoveries a secret was a feat.
“Well?” Hyta asked. Her old, reset eyes peered at Charles.
Charles cleared his throat and talked in a whisper. “It’s common knowledge that every world we’ve encountered has had decaying civilizations with remnants of long dead empires. Whole cultures simply died out.”
“How simply?” Jonna asked.
“Presumably over night, they didn’t put up much of a fight. Sometimes the populations just stopped, lay down and died. We’ve found the same instances on many worlds. No matter what the people were doing, cooking, working, making love – any action they just stopped and died.”
“Was it a plague of some kind?” Jonna asked leaning on the desk next to Hyta.
“We don’t know,” Hyta said. “But it’s unlikely. Not a single hospital appeared to be treating a large number of patients.”
“Which would indicate whatever happened, happened quickly,” Charles added.
“My DNA examinations have been inconclusive,” Hyta said, sitting up in the desk chair. “There were no medical reasons they should have died – other than they did.”
“So, you think maybe an outside influence?”
Both Charles and Hyta looked at one another.
Jonna smiled. “Am I right?”
Hyta shrugged and Charles glanced over at the ORACLE.
“If you’d rather not tell me,” Jonna said when she saw Charles studying the watcheye.
“Let me show you something,” Charles said and motioned for Jonna to follow him to the back of his cluttered room.
In the corner under stacks of dusty leather-bound books and reams of paper, Charles uncovered an old trunk. He pulled it out away from the wall and brushed off the dust with his hands. He’d acquired the old chest during his first archeological
dig. “I found this old trunk on Earth in the desert, in an old city called Las Vegas, located in the western part of North America. What was once called the United States.”
“I thought Las Vegas was forbidden,” Jonna said.
“It is… didn’t stop Vincent and me from joining our instructor there,” Charles said. He opened the crate, remembering the first time he found it, tucked away in an old cellar, hidden much like it was in the back of the office. Charles took certain measures to make sure the trunk, considered contraband made its way back up to the ship. If it weren’t for his mentor arranging for it to come up to the ship unhindered, he wouldn’t have it now.
From that moment, Charles became obsessed with rare priceless objects. The chest became an invaluable treasure. “What better place to hide precious belongings, but inside something precious,” Charles opened the lid on the trunk.
Chest filled to the top, Charles pilfered through a collection of trinkets including old pieces of china, rare useless coins, and old photographs of people long since dead. Buried deep under everything Charles lifted out a large object wrapped in a dingy old cloth. He held the heavy object in both hands and looked at Jonna.
“What is it?”
Charles moved his back to the ORACLE system; resting on his knees he laid the object on his lap. “What do you make of this?” he removed the cover to expose a large stone tablet. He supported it with his large hands.
Jonna leaned over, and Hyta leaned in behind her, her weight supported on her old cane.
“I’ve never seen markings like these before.” Jonna said and reached out for the tablet but retracted her hand.
“Go ahead, touch it,” Charles told her.
“The first rule of archaeology – never touch a relic with an exposed hand.”
“Which I have done many times,” Charles said. “Go ahead… touch it.”
Jonna rubbed the ends of her fingers along the indented markings on the rough stone. Three lines ran slanted across the rock, with three more lines inclined on the opposite side. It looked like a Z formation. “What do these three lines represent?” she asked.
“I think they symbolize the three levels of the universe,” Charles said. “I’m not sure what the sphere at the top of the symbol stands for. Hell, I’m not even sure what any of it means.”
“But you found it important enough to store it here,” Jonna said.
“Go on, tell her,” Hyta said shifting her footing.
“On every one of the planet’s we have visited this symbol has been present on uniforms, flags, even jewelry," Charles said.
“And not just our expeditions,” Hyta intervened. “The other houses have documented this symbol. It’s everywhere.”
“Except Earth,” Charles said and glanced up to Hyta. “And in all the photographs sent back from Kepler 369, this symbol hasn’t been recorded.”
“But didn’t Doctor Abernathy mention he’d found no sign of cities or buildings of any kind.”
“That’s right Jonna,” Hyta said with a pleasing voice. “You’re a smart girl.”
Jonna smiled.
“Just because there are no signs of a city, doesn’t mean the markings aren’t there,” Charles said and pointed at the stone tablet on his lap. “Vincent and I chipped this away from a cliff basin fifty kilometers from the nearest city on a world called Asendren. If this symbol is on Kepler 369, we will find it.”
Jonna’s face brightened. “Then –”
The ORACLE system gave a warning. Sirens sounded, and the voice of Captain William Kevka blared over the ship intercom. “Make preparations for acceleration into the wormhole. We have been recalled to Earth. Cycle time back home six hours... mark!”
Charles wrapped the stone tablet back in its dingy cloth and stored it in the chest. With Jonna’s help they pushed the trunk back against the wall.
“I guess all of this will have to wait,” Hyta said hobbling out of the office. “I’ll be in my bunk. I hate wormhole travel.”
Charles brushed off his trousers when he stood up from the dirty floor. He saw Jonna staring at him. “Why don’t you go lay in your bunk too?”
“I’d rather be here with you,” Jonna said. “I’m afraid I might miss something.”
Charles sat in his desk chair. “I wouldn’t let it worry you. The longer you hang around me, the more likely you’ll be in the thick of it before too long.” He closed his eyes, hating the thought of leaving Vincent behind. Requiem’s inline engines powered up, Charles felt his back teeth hurt, as the ship slipped into the wormhole.
Gatehouse, High Earth Orbit
Home of the family Xavier, April 15, 2442
No other high-born family could trace their lineage back a thousand years. The Xaviers once owned a vast majority of the Russian homeland that secured their heritage from one generation to the next. With pride, they took their rightful place among the nine families. Their influence stretched deep into the good graces of many of the low-born families. Protecting assets and securing loans gave the Xavier family a higher profit margin and support when needed.
The other prestigious families were not as well versed or as popular, the low-born rallied to the Xavier’s time and time again. Not because the head of their family, Havish Xavier cut interest rates so borrowers could pay back loans easier. Or because Lucinda Xavier, Havish’s lovely wife visited hospitals for terminally ill children and pledged funds to expand research toward the rare cancer Hycons disease. These philanthropic effects helped entrench the Xavier’s legacy. The low-born however, were in love with the family’s first son, Gregaor.
Gregaor Xavier embodied the next generation of the high-born. The poster child that smiled at the right times, said the right things and never reflected a bad light on his family. Gregaor Xavier, the man women and children idolized, the high-born son who never shirked his responsibility – Gregaor Xavier – who hated every minute of his popularity.
The afternoon chimes rang twelve times when the shuttle arrived in the landing bay aboard Gatehouse. The security reception stood at attention. The detail dressed in their finest formal uniforms, decorated in the family’s colors, black and gold. They held long silver scepters at arms-length, pressing the hilts against their polished boots; their gold helmets gleamed from the lights overhead.
The shuttle came to a rest just inside the protection area behind the force field. The honor guard took position by the exit ramp. The door of the shuttle opened. It slid up out of the way. Gregaor stepped into view. He took a deep breath when he saw his parents standing on the deck.
Havish straightened his posture and tucked down his white waistcoat, he pulled his long dark jacket closed in front. He ran his fingers through his thin hair to cover his bald spot.
Lucinda took a step forward, the azure dress she wore fit tight against her body and she struggled to walk without looking like she was having difficulty. Her large breasts pressed against the low-cut seam of the garment on the verge of popping out. She slinked forward and stood, pandering for the hovering telecom cameras that recorded Gregaor’s arrival.
The muster of cameras revolved around the landing bay, beaming his return throughout the network of orbiting stations around the Earth. The return of Gregaor from deep space after a year excited high and low-born alike. Gregaor held his head low when he stepped clear of the shuttle. The lights from the cameras flashed in his face and he blocked it with the palm of his hand. He hated the spectacle.
Dressed in wrinkled and mismatched clothes, he wore a flight jacket caked with mud and carried a scruffy duffle bag flung over his left shoulder. Gregaor’s tawny hair, mussed and uncombed had lost its luster.
Before Gregaor reached the bottom of the ramp, Lucinda rushed to meet him almost falling forward. She placed her arms around him. Not hugging him too tight. His mother didn't like dirty things. He chuckled to himself.
“Welcome home,” Lucinda said forcing a smile.
Gregaor also returned a forced smile and greeted his father with
a handshake while he kept his back to the cameras that felt like unwanted insects buzzing about.
Gregaor grew up in the public eye, he understood at an early age that the people loved his family. They were the closest thing to celebrities the low-born had. He didn’t like it, but he understood his family’s influence. Their notoriety saved them many times from bankruptcy. Even during the times of immense wealth there were worries of financial collapse. His family might be the most popular, but they were not the wealthiest.
Like a good son, Gregaor turned to the cameras and waved, he widened his smile.
Lucinda stepped forward. She held her hands against her flat stomach and said with authority, “Today is a great day not only for our family but for all of Earth. With the new acquisitions processed by our oldest son we will be able to provide many lower families the equities necessary over the next fiscal year. There is no truer meaning in life than to make sure that our families are provided for. I only hope that the family Xavier will bring joy to our constituents.”
The cameras buzzed around, changing positions and re-setting themselves. An electronic voice came from the nearest floating camera focused on Gregaor, “Can you say a few words to the people at home Lord Xavier?”
Gregaor looked over to his mother who gave a reassured nod. He licked his lips and said, “I’m glad to be home. I look forward to spending time with my mother, father and…” he looked around his words caught in his throat. “…My brother, who I hope to see soon. I intend on recounting my recent exploits in the Xavier name as soon as I can.”
The camera spun away, clicking and beeping like it got the interview it wanted.
Havish went to step forward but Lucinda stepped in his way and cleared her throat, saying with dignity, “I want to thank all of those who support the family Xavier. We will strive to prove our value to you all.”
Gregaor interlocked his arm inside his mother’s and led her toward the transparent elevator on the other side of the landing bay. Havish rushed behind like a lost puppy. When the elevator doors hissed closed, and the lift moved upward toward their private chambers, did Gregaor’s demeanor change. “Where is he?” he asked, removing his arm away from his mother.
Origin Expedition Page 4
