Origin Expedition

by Charles F Millhouse

  Now, regardless of all that, Hek’Dara felt it would be a better way of sweeping the problems with his daughter under the rug. In hopes everyone would forget what she’d done. Because Hek’Dara knew sooner or later her actions at the breeding facility would come to light. He hoped he could remain in good standings with the other families of the Union once the information came out.

  A chime over Hek’Dara’s personal com-device rang out. A bewildered voice from the central command deck spoke, “A Lexor shuttle is coming alongside and requesting permission to dock Lord Hek’Dara… Should I allow it to land?”

  Hek’Dara seemed as confused as the person in central command. A visit from the family Lexor did not go without notice – from anyone. He thought for a moment. What are they doing here?

  “Lord Hek’Dara?”

  “Who’s on board the shuttle?” Hek’Dara asked.

  “The Lady Iris Lexor is aboard.”

  Iris Lexor, the family mother, hadn’t left the watchtower in fifty plus years. Iris? At one hundred and thirty years old, her longevity rivaled that of Moyah Everhart, the reclusive head of family Everhart whom Hek’Dara had never seen. The thoughts of Iris’ arrival at Tannador House baffled and worried him at the same time.

  “My Lord?” the voice from the central command asked.

  The words stuck in Hek’Dara’s voice. “Yes – yes of course allow her to land,” he said with an excited tone that turned to caution. “Before anyone from that shuttle disembarks I want a full scan. Make sure their ORACLE system isn’t active… And make sure no personal ORACLE device is present on the Lady Iris. Then have her escorted to my suite.”

  “As you command my Lord,” the central command officer replied with a strange lilt in his voice.

  Hek’Dara’s mind, a fury of speculation, why are you here? Why now, instead of waiting until the next Union meeting. There’s only one reason, he thought. Da’Mira.

  Hek’Dara returned to his workstation and pressed a button. The lights in the room came on fully illuminating every nook and cranny of the room. The high vaulted ceiling crisscrossed with elaborate steel girders and looked like a ribcage. They always reminded him of being inside a monster. The alcoves built into the walls were filled with live plants and decorative adornments collected from the countless worlds the Tannador explorer ship visited.

  Hek’Dara ran his thin fingers through his white hair; he stroked his dark beard while he stood in the middle of the room; his feet danced back and forth on the olive carpet.

  When the suite door opened the Lady Iris entered, escorted by Hek’Dara’s personal assistant; a tall well-dressed slim-girl who kept her eyes peeled to the floor. She stepped aside to allow Iris to enter followed by four of her défenseur security men. The elite specialists were more assassins than protectors. Everything about them looked militaristic, from the pulsar pistols they carried at their side, to the way they conducted themselves. Even the Lexor crest, a running gazelle displayed in the center of their breastplates reeked uniformity. No other Union security teams were as well prepared, except maybe for the Orlanders. If they’re not one and the same.

  “You may go,” Iris told her guards in French, her rough old voice cracked. “I doubt I am in any danger here… wait outside.”

  The guards snapped to attention and obeyed their orders. Hek'Dara's assistant nodded and followed the men out of the room. The door silently whooshed closed.

  Hek’Dara stood at attention allowing himself to be inspected by the boney, frail Iris Lexor; her sapphire eyes unwavering while she studied him. She stood crooked, her old body seen better times. Hek’Dara eyed her back, surprised she didn’t use a cane to steady her legs. She wore azure slacks and a matching blouse, layered in blues, a gold belt tied her clothes together. Her gray and black streaked hair lay hidden under a small beret.

  “Let me look at you,” Iris said. She curled her nose. “The bastard in league with my son – the bastard that used him to save your family from embarrassment,” She said, spitting on the floor; it pooled on the carpet. “Do you understand the quandary you’ve put me in? If word ever got out you made a deal with my son to hide your daughter’s act of sabotage, there will be consequences. Sanctions, fines and who knows what else.”

  Hek’Dara cleared his throat but Iris raised her hand.

  “I came here because although my appearance will not go unnoticed, I could not allow someone to intercept a direct communication. I have disciplined my son – but you are outside my control… or are you?” Iris jabbed a finger toward Hek’Dara. She drew in a deep breath and steadied herself. “My son refused to tell me what you and he have done together in the past to support each other like this. And you bluntly repudiate my request.”

  “I assure you Lady Iris I meant no disrespect. You understand how it is to protect your children… I couldn't allow anything to happen to my daughter. Your son and I have an uneasy alliance but it’s mutually beneficial… there is nothing more I can say, other than, I had to protect my daughter.”

  “In that, we are alike,” Iris said still struggling to draw breath. “When I die, my son Avery will become head of the family. Only he is not ready. Not if he continues to pull stunts like he did today. What arrangement did you and he come to, to save your daughter’s reputation?”

  Hek’Dara bit his tongue. He never considered him the man to betray an ally. His father taught him that. He also taught him that all decisions are connected. Good and bad. If Hek’Dara were to betray Avery the consequences could come back to him.

  “Well?” Iris leaned forward on her cane.

  “Lady Iris, that business between me and your son is just that, between me and your son. I will not destroy his confidence in me. If he is one day to be ruler of your family as you say, I need him to know he can trust me.”

  Iris walked away from Hek’Dara; her slow steady pace took her over to his workstation. She sat in his chair and stared at him. “This chair feels nice. Warm and comfortable, much like your home here. It’s a shame you jeopardize it to protect my son,” she said with a narrow glare. “It’s commendable. You are a trusted man Hek’Dara Tannador. But you are merely a man – and men can be replaced. Da’Mira might have thrown a spanner in the already fragile operations that keep our society from crumbling. Revolutionaries on the Earth have struck against our breeding houses, giving the slaves here in orbit hope. And although they are not organized, many houses have reported a rise in disobedience and the slaves have taken the symbol of the clenched fist as their banner. Perhaps you should increase the drug in the slave’s food disks to keep them from uprising, instead of finding ways to compromise our way of life.”

  Hek’Dara kept his composure even though he wanted to toss the old woman out of his chair. He’d seen and heard of the things she spoke of, but Hek’Dara refused to betray Avery. He knew that he walked a fine line with Iris. In charge of the watchtower and the ORACLE systems, she held the power to make things difficult for him and his family. “I thank you for your visit Lady Iris. I’m sure the trip over here couldn’t have been easy for someone of your considerable age. I know what needs to be done to keep the operations of Earth flowing and I also know how to protect my family. You would be wise to watch over yours.”

  Iris stood with a struggle. Her jawbone tightened. She pointed a sinewy finger at Hek’Dara, and gave a dire warning, “Things might have just gotten worse for you Lord Hek’Dara. Sooner or later I will learn why you and my son have become trusted friends – and when I do… guards!”

  The door hissed open and the security detail rushed in; their hands resting on the hilt of their holstered guns.

  “Take me home to Watchtower. There is nothing more to be said here.”

  Hek’Dara stood alone in his suite and watched the door close. The silence overcame him, and he heard his father’s words in his head. Every action, good or bad has consequences.

  Watchtower shuttle –

  High Earth Orbit April 15, 2442

  Iris Lexor orde
red the shuttle pilot to orbit around the Earth so she could see the mass of habitats that encircled the planet. In high orbit, above all the lesser-born orbital rings were the platforms of the nine great families. She chuckled at the notion that any of them were great, including her own. Money, power and prestige were just words in her opinion. For three hundred years the human race strived to be nothing more than overstuffed pigs, choking on their wealth. The great families weren’t the only ones infected. It seemed their influence on the low-born drove them toward their own desires.

  The low-born looked to the Great Houses for inspiration. They idolized the high-born with their promise of a golden age of prosperity. To many, the Great Houses delivered on their promise. From the known corners of the galaxy the riches of long dead alien cultures were brought to Earth and distributed, sold and loaned to whoever could afford them. Mankind bartered and gambled away their status in a twisted society. The old saying, those with the most toys in the end – wins, were never truer.

  The high-born had station, the low-born wanted to be a part of that station, no matter the consequences. Each Great House had its supporters, those who rallied to their banner. Iris saw the massing of low-born orbital rings moving close to their respected family. She knew the time approached when the fragile society they built, would finally breakdown. That delicate balance hinged on one thing: the slaves.

  “Shall I make another pass Lady Iris?” the pilot asked.

  “No,” Iris said while she stared out the observation window, she saw Watchtower looming near. “I’m tired. Take me home.”

  The shuttle banked and changed course. Iris heard the pilot communicating with the landing bay and the shuttle engines decelerating. She sat back, rested her head on a silk cushion behind her and closed her eyes. For a woman her age she shouldn’t concern herself with the future. How in the short remaining time she possessed, could she change the inevitable outcome of the human race? People had been trying that for centuries with little result. Iris on the other hand, hoped she may have figured it out.

  When the shuttle landed on watchtower, Iris gripped the armrest of her seat. Her brittle fingernails dug in; she hated shuttle flights. Iris laughed at herself. She lived her whole life circling the Earth at a thousand miles an hour, spinning in the vacuum of space. One minor mistake from anyone would be catastrophic, but a simple trip in a shuttle scared the hell out of her.

  The door of the shuttle opened with a hiss and lowered onto the awaiting deck. Iris found her servant, Eesh waiting for her when she stepped out of the shuttle. Although a slave, Eesh proved himself loyal to her. More than Iris could say for her children.

  Eesh stood much shorter than Iris, his odd shaped face gave him a troll-like appearance. As a loyal servant he never looked directly into her eyes. “You had a good trip my lady?” he asked with a lisp.

  “The outcome is what I expected,” Iris said while she took slow steady steps toward a railcar. The monorail system ran throughout the Watchtower. Installed when they built the platform three hundred years ago, Iris never used it until the age of one hundred. Until then she never considered herself old. Age, it seemed, had a nasty way of sneaking up and before long she found the railcar invaluable. Used to move from one side of the space station to the other, it also worked as an elevator system that took her straight up to the top of the tower, where her family lived, in the penthouse.

  “Doctor Odak awaits you in your apartment Milady,” Eesh said as he climbed in the back of the car.

  Iris insisted that Eesh ride in the railcar with her, the only slave on Watchtower allowed to. Other servants would use the elevator system built for slaves.

  The original term of servants referred to paid members of staff, but as time passed and the low-born became too wealthy, their desire to work diminished. Other arrangements needed to be found. The implement of robots proved cumbersome and high maintenance. The only other resource left were people lower than the low-born. They became slaves out of necessity. They rebelled at first, but when the original slaves realized they wouldn’t be able to survive without food and shelter, they gave in, but with difficulty. To quell their disobedience the high-born developed the passive drug, Lotoson. Given to the slaves in food disks it made them docile and cooperative.

  The railcar entered the top level of the decorative penthouse. An old crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling and sparkled from the lights embedded in the walls. Holographic paintings hung throughout the room, and were referred to as new art. Iris wasn’t sure she considered it art. More like paintings by idiots.

  The railcar came to a rest just inside the apartment and it parked up against the tan carpet before it powered off. Iris stepped out of the car; her feet sank into the carpet. She gave Eesh a slap on the arm for holding her too tight. The frail man recoiled, but gave no reply. The carpet bled into a granite floor that led Iris across the room to her private sanctuary.

  A waterfall in the corner of the elaborate room cascaded downward out of the top of the wall; replica stone placed to look as if the water cut away at a hillside. Fake algae grew over portions of the granite and looked natural. Iris would not allow the decoration to be a holographic piece. She wanted to feel the splash of the water on her when she stood near it and watch the different courses the water took daily. She knew a holographic image could never replicate those patterns. As a girl she often wondered what it would have been like to grow up on Earth. To run in the green grass and smell the fresh air. Her childhood desires carried over into her adulthood but the reality of being grownup smothered her dreams.

  Iris learned early that the wishes of children were irrelevant to the important things. Her father told her, “The family Lexor is the most powerful of the nine families. We may not be the richest, but we hold the secrets. Remember that.” Her father prepared her to lead the family, which she did with success. The family Lexor kept the breeders and slaves in line, watching their every move. With aide from the watcheye ORACLE system, down to the personal armbands worn by all slaves, regardless of their rank, the Watchtower saw everything.

  When the Watchtower first went online its directive seemed clear, monitor all slaves. Feed the information to the great families. The Lexors received compensation for their reports, but the money paled in comparison to the wealth the other families were securing from their expeditions. The family Lexor felt like second class citizens if not for their Watchtower. So, the directive changed. The other great families became scrutinized by the thing they started and funded. Though an ORACLE system could not be placed in a family domicile, the slaves would be their link.

  Over the last one hundred years the family Lexor became the most powerful member of the Nine. Not through monetary means, but through information. Keeping and selling secrets.

  Iris stood at the wall opposite the waterfall. With a wave of her arm the wall came alive with holographic images, beamed to the Watchtower through the ORACLE system, observed every minute of the day and night by members of the security team. Secrets exposed and categorized in importance. Iris saw it all. Every family, from the Tannadors to the Cromwells, all their secrets for the taking. The family Everhart however escaped their scans.

  Entrenched, the Lexors held the power. The great families needed slaves, and they needed the ORACLE to keep them in control. It became a no-win situation. The other families needed the Lexors and the Lexors kept everyone in check.

  No secrets, Iris thought. A vicious circle, but not as vicious as the game my son is playing. It seemed the secrets taken from the great families were easier to get than those Avery kept from Iris. One day her son would be head of the family, and Iris wasn’t sure she trusted him.

  “Milady–. I wasn’t aware you were leaving Watchtower,” Doctor Ragan Odak rushed to Iris. In her hand she held a scanner near her heart. The young doctor, in her mid-thirties, stood much taller than Iris. Her honey hair sat twirled atop her head and gave the doctor an appearance wiser than her age.

  “Is it working d
octor?” Iris asked with a forced smile.

  “Please, Milady, this is serious. If anything happens to you before we are ready… we wouldn’t be able to save you. If your brain is starved of oxygen for less than three minutes, at your age there wouldn’t be hope of saving –”

  “Mother?” Avery stormed into the penthouse his hands held out in front of him, his face twisted in awe. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. They say you left Watchtower.”

  Doctor Odak stepped behind Iris and continued to run her scans.

  “I did,” Iris told her son and turned away from the ORACLE displays not looking toward Avery. She waved off the doctor.

  “Lady Lexor,” Doctor Odak protested.

  “Leave us, Doctor. I’ll call for you when I am finished here.”

  Ragan Odak nodded, exhaled with a sarcastic huff and left the apartment via the elevator.

  Avery followed Iris, his lean build towered over her. “May I ask where you went?”