Origin Expedition

by Charles F Millhouse

  Colin smiled and nodded his head. What was one more death at his hand as long as it didn’t affect the others in the clan? He couldn’t think of one person that would shed a tear over a dead adjudicator.

  Locklorn reached out his hand and Colin clasped his into Locklorn’s. “Good luck, Colin.”

  “And to you my friend. If we never meet again…”

  The two said their goodbyes in a silent nod.

  Colin hid near the landing site at Four Corners and waited. From his vantage point he watched Avery’s shuttle land. For the longest time he waited and watched, but he saw no sign of Avery or his pilot leave the ship. A quarter of an hour passed when Colin decided to investigate. He approached with caution, listened for movement. He heard the low soft hum from the shuttle’s auxiliary backup and felt the vibration of the ship when he touched the hull.

  “Avery – Avery Lexor?” Colin said in a whisper and stepped back when Avery appeared in the entrance. The high-born looked frazzled and out of sorts.

  “I didn’t think you were coming,” Avery said when he appeared.

  “You weren’t worried about me,” Colin asked. He noticed that Avery looked less refined than usual, disheveled and distraught.

  “I need your help.”

  Colin’s brow knitted. “My help?”

  “Seems my mother is upset over what happened to the breeding facility. Somehow she figured out my involvement.”

  “I did what you asked, Lexor…”

  “You did more than I asked. You destroyed the complex.”

  “I had nothing to do with that. Seems the Orlanders don’t like unwanted guests. They destroyed the complex. When I entered I triggered an explosive system.” Colin could tell by the look Avery gave him that he didn’t believe Colin’s outlandish story. “I’m done with all of this, high-born. Where is she – where is my sister?”

  Avery’s face flushed. “Gone.”

  Colin tightened his lips, and snarled, “Gone! What do you mean gone?”

  Even as Avery explained, Colin didn’t believe his story. “How – why would she go with the Tannador woman?”

  “What am I – your personal informer? How the hell would I know why she went with Da’Mira Tannador? All I can tell you is that she’s light years away from here. I can’t help you.”

  Colin lunged forward but backed away when Avery produced a pistol.

  “Seems I can’t rely on you either… get back.” Avery straightened the gun and backed up into the shuttle. “I thought we could help each other but it seems I’m wrong.”

  “We had a deal,” Colin snapped, his arms tightened like a snake ready to strike.

  “I can’t help you – she’s out of my reach or are you too stupid to understand that?”

  “People have called me many things, but smart isn’t one of them.” Colin jumped toward Avery, the pistol fired, prematurely and the bolt went astray.

  Both men fell to the shuttle deck. Colin grabbed Avery’s pistol and struggled to take it from his hand. Another shot fired and ricocheted off the ceiling. The blast hit the control board at the pilot position and the panel came alive. Lights blinked, an alarm rang out when the shuttle engines fired. Moments later the hatchway slid close.

  Avery kicked up and wrapped his leg around Colin pushing him away. Scrambling to his feet he pointed his weapon at Colin, who lay on the floor.

  The ship rocked and shuttered – the sound of the turbines whirled, and the ship blasted away from the ground.

  “No, no, no,” Avery raced to the control panel. “The blast activated the failsafe. The ship is in flight back to the Watchtower. You fool!” he looked back at Colin.

  Colin’s legs were unsteady on the ships vibrating deck. The tremendous speed sent a queasiness barreling through his stomach and thunderous pain reeling through his head.

  “I should kill you now.”

  “Yes, you should.” Again, Colin jumped at Avery but this time the blast from the gun caught him in the shoulder. The excruciating pain wrenched at his side, but he didn’t stop charging forward. He threw his body up against Avery and the two men exchanged punches over the damaged controls. The clear daylight sky outside the main window gave way to the cold unrelenting darkness of space as the ship spun out of control spiraling into an unsafe orbit.

  They battled each other out of the cockpit and into the passenger area. They flipped over cushioned seats and landed on the floor.

  Avery pushed Colin off him. The gun tore from his hand and spun across the floor.

  “You fight good – for a high-born,” Colin mocked.

  More sparks popped and cracked out of the controls. Fires erupted, and more alarms sounded.

  “I will not die here!” Avery said. He pushed passed Colin, again the pair exchanged blows and Colin knocked Avery back to the floor. He felt his knuckles crack.

  Avery landed next to the pistol, and he scooped it up in his hand. “I’d love to kill you, Highlander. But I’d get more pleasure knowing you burned up in the planet’s atmosphere or survived long enough to feel the impact on the planet. Now get back!” Avery ran toward the escape pod in the back of the ship and turned. For a moment Colin thought Avery would gloat. Instead he stepped back into the escape pod. The doors closed, and Colin heard the pod blasting away from the doomed shuttle.

  Out the main view port a red glow formed around the ship. Reentry. He’d never been on a spaceship before, let alone understand all the controls in front of him. He watched out the view port, the heat from the friction caused a protective shield to slide close over the glass window.

  Blind and unsure what to do, he moved to the rear of the ship. He took the broadsword from his back and laid it on the floor and then strapped himself into a passenger seat, pulled the harness tight against him. His hands gripped the arm rests and Colin waited for it all to end.

  Requiem – Deep Space Between Wormhole Jumps

  The lower Levels – Archeology Department – the Office of Charles Long

  April 19, 2442

  The casket markings taunted Charles. The more he studied them, the less he understood them. The symbols were unlike any he’d seen before, except for the Z marking.

  “This cask destroys years of my research,” Charles said rubbing his face.

  “But if you can’t read the other symbols how can you disregard years of research?” Jonna Grace asked.

  Charles kept his eyes fixed on the casket. He’d cleared the clutter off his desk, the first time in years he’d seen the top. He rested his elbows on the surface; his head cradled in his hands, he mumbled, “Before this casket, we found the Z symbol etched in stone, embroiled on uniforms and flags, never with other symbols like these.” He pointed at the casket. “Vincent’s initial hypothesis when we first discovered the symbol was that it might be a governmental crest. When we found the marking on other planets we assumed it to be a federation of worlds. Nowhere have we found the Z marking accompanied with others. It upsets our entire hypothesis. We might well be wrong, or right. That’s what science is about, Jonna.”

  “But if you don’t know.”

  “I will – once I learn what the other symbols are.”

  “I might help you with that,” Hyta Winter said when she hobbled into the room struggling with a thick brown book pressed up under her left arm. “Help me with this.”

  “What is this?” Charles asked. He placed the large book on his lap. A thick layer of dust covered the top. When he opened it some of the grime fell off onto his tan pants.

  Jonna moved of out the chair opposite Charles to allow Hyta to sit down.

  The old woman eased down in the chair and rested her hands on the cane, said, “When you brought the casket in the lab I couldn’t stop thinking where I saw markings like those. It took some time to find that book, but I think it’s interesting.”

  “Hyta this book is about Sumerian religion.”

  “Yes, I marked a page there with a slip of paper.”

  Charles found the mark and
flipped open the book. He scanned his eyes over the pages, and then glanced back up to Hyta, said, “The Akkadian Empire. Hyta these people died out over two-thousand years before Christ.”

  “Turn the page,” Hyta said with a smile.

  Charles couldn’t believe his eyes when he turned the page. He leaned forward, eyes fixed on the book. He gasped, smiled, gasped again and looked up at Hyta.

  “What is it?” Jonna asked, and she leaned over Charles’ shoulder. “Isn’t that – that’s the Z symbol.”

  “It’s a religion. All this time it’s been a religion. How did we miss that?” Charles slammed the book on the desk, grabbed his digital pad and made notes. Although the symbols weren’t identical to those on the casket, they could give him a base on which to begin.

  “So how does this effect our war theory?” Hyta asked.

  “It doesn’t change a thing. We know from human history that many wars are fought over religion. This strengthens our hypothesis.”

  “Can you read it?” Jonna said hanging on Charles’ shoulder.

  “Archeology doesn’t come to you in a flash, Jonna, especially trying to match three-thousand-year-old text to alien hieroglyphs. This will take longer than you think.”

  Jonna sighed, and leaned on the corner of the desk, said, “Sometimes archeology can be boring.”

  Hyta chuckled, her eyes brightened, and she said, “I remember impatience. You have to wait until things fall into place. You’ll be amazed at the outcome.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Could be in five minutes,” Hyta said.

  “Could be in fifty years,” Charles joked.

  Jonna came around to face Charles, and in an almost whiny voice, said, “Well, I hope I’m not old like you when we discover something.”

  “Age is only a number,” Hyta chuckled and then coughed.

  “Not funny.”

  Charles pushed back the digital pad and flopped back into his desk chair staring at the casket, said, “It’s useless. It’s right there in front of me and I can’t see it. I wish Vincent was here.”

  “Yes, he could help,” Hyta said compassionately.

  “Hell, we’re not even sure if he’s alive. We’ve spent too much time going back to Earth. Too much time catering to the high-born and their childish politics.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more,” Da’Mira said from the office entrance.

  Charles jolted to his feet, his last words stuck in his throat. He used his body to block the casket. He reached over and pulled Jonna up next to him and helped Hyta from her chair. With a raspy voice he tried to speak, said, “Lady Tannador… I… I never thought to see – what I meant to say is I didn’t think you’d be coming down here. Because…”

  “My brother never came down here,” Da’Mira finished for him.

  Charles licked his parched tongue over his lips, and he stammered over his next sentence, saying, “Was… is there something I can help you with?”

  Da’Mira walked into the cramped office; she ran her index finger across the layer of dust on a shelf and inspected them before saying, “We will arrive at Kepler 369 in two more jumps. I’m interested in what it is you and your team do down here, besides collect dust.” She smiled and smeared the grime between her finger and thumb.

  “I thought that was apparent,” Jonna said in a sarcastic tone.

  Charles touched Jonna on the arm and gave her a stern look, and apologetically said, “What my assistant meant to say…”

  Da’Mira raised her hand, and said, “I know what she meant to say, Professor Long. You are Charles Long?”

  “Yes, Milady. This is Hyta Winter one of my partners and my assistant is Jonna Grace.”

  “I came down here Professor, because I figured what better place to learn.”

  “Learn?” Charles asked.

  “Yes, there’s a lot I want to know professor. Before I go down to Kepler 369 I want to be prepared.”

  “Go down?” Charles asked puzzled.

  “I’m not my brother. I’m a doer, not a high-born aristocrat who’s afraid to get her hands dirty. If I was, I wouldn’t be on this ship. I was forced to make this expedition and I mean to set foot on an alien world and get my hands dirty. It’s still two days before we reach the planet. In the meantime, professor, I want you to teach me all you can.”

  “If I can,” Charles said. He eyed Da’Mira; unsure what to make of her. Most high-born weren’t worth the tissue it took to wipe their ass, but he could tell the Lady Tannador seemed eager and smarter than the ones he’d met.

  “I’d like you to tell me something else, professor. What it is you’re looking for?”

  “What I’m looking for?”

  Da’Mira placed her hand on Charles’ shoulder and gently moved him aside. She gestured at the casket, said, “Tell me what that is.”

  Charles’ jaw hardened, he said, “I’m not sure. But it’s magnificent isn’t it.”

  Hyta coughed trying to direct his attention.

  Charles ignored her. He wasn’t good at lying, and decided not to, saying, “I recently picked it up. It has markings I’ve not seen before.”

  “But?”

  “They resemble hieroglyphics found on Earth.”

  “But they’re alien?”

  “Yes, Milady. Perplexing isn’t it?”

  Da’Mira reached over and touched the casket; her index and middle fingers traced along the Z symbol.

  Charles saw something in Da’Mira’s eyes. She recognizes the symbol. “Have you seen this symbol before, Milady?”

  “No –” Da’Mira replied dismissive. Her green highlighted eyes glanced at Charles. “But you have – haven’t you professor?”

  Stunned by Da’Mira’s straightforwardness, he pursed his lips, exhaled and said with a straight face, “No, I haven’t.” He hoped it sounded convincing. He’d spent his whole life mistrusting high-born. Sooner or later he knew he had to trust at least one of them. He looked at Da’Mira, her eyes studied him, and it appeared she didn’t believe his dismissal of the hieroglyph.

  “It seems there is a lot for both of us to discover,” Da’Mira said with a coy smile.

  “Yes –” Charles felt an awkward tension in the air.

  “Come, child,” Hyta said leaning her weight on Jonna. “Take me to my bed – I’m tired… if Milady will excuse me.”

  Da’Mira nodded and stepped aside.

  “You must forgive my assistant,” Charles said once Hyta and Jonna were out of the room. “She can forget her place.”

  “Here, I’m the outsider, Professor. I can wager there aren’t many high-born who venture into the lower decks.”

  “I dare say,” Charles said holding his tongue. He knew his place and even though he didn’t trust a high-born he’d never tell them that. He didn’t want to be jettisoned out of an airlock. The Lady Tannador looked honest enough, but he’d learned his lesson one too many times. His mothers trusted them and because of that, they were both dead.

  “I’ll let you get back to work. We can talk more after dinner tonight.”

  “Dinner?”

  “There will be a formal dinner on the main deck this evening after we have made the jump into the wormhole. I’m sure the view of the journey will be breathtaking while we dine.”

  And there Charles heard the inflection in her voice, the high-born upbringing that all the upper class had. No matter how hard they tried, he knew they would always consider themselves better than his kind.

  “Is there a problem?” Da’Mira asked.

  Charles cleared his thoughts. “No – no problem. I’d be happy to attend.” He dared not refuse even though he’d feel out of place in such a setting. The pressing matter of his friend Vincent sat forefront on his mind. The sooner they reached the planet the better. He hoped Kepler 369 would give up its secrets.

  Gatehouse, Home of the Family Xavier

  High Earth Orbit

  April 19, 2442

  Van Xavier stood in front of a
mirror and admired his new clothes. The blue, sharp cut garment made to his measurements fit him perfect. He ran his pudgy fingers over the lapel and he straightened the dark tie around his neck. The wrinkle free synthetic called memory cloth flexed and moved with the wearers every movement. Van smiled and ran his hands over the material.

  “Do you like it?” Gregaor asked.

  Van looked over to his brother and offered a toothy smile and he said with a snort, “Yeah.”

  Gregaor noticed the intercom system on the wall flashing but he ignored it. “Good, little brother, because I’ve had a whole new wardrobe made for you. I’ve thrown out all your other clothes and had them jettisoned into space.”

  “Why?” Van asked still fancying his clothes in the mirror.

  “Most of them didn’t even fit you, nor have they been cleaned in a year. Plus, I did it to piss off mother, which makes me happy to no end.”

  Van laughed and snorted again.

  “Now that I’m back you’ll no longer be treated like that.” Gregaor snapped his fingers and two female slaves ran into the room. They picked up empty boxes that the new clothes arrived in and cleaned up the bedroom. Gregaor saw the slave he’d slapped around. She gave him a fleeting glance and he turned away.

  Van looked at the slave and then at Gregaor.

  “What’s going on inside that head of yours, brother?” Gregaor asked.

  “You never apologized to her,” Van said pointing at the slave who was busy cleaning.

  “Apologize to a slave?” The idea never entered his mind. In fact, even talking to a slave was foreign to him. Even when he had sex with one, he didn’t talk to them.

  “It would make you feel better.”

  Gregaor shook his head. The only thing he knew that would make him feel better would be another hit of gold. His promise to Van not to use the drug, proved to be more daunting than he thought.

  “Do it for me,” Van said with a coy smile.

  Gregaor drew in a deep breath. He said to his brother with a stern voice, “After the stunt the slaves pulled the other day I’m surprised we still have them. I can’t apologize to her and neither can you. There are some things we can’t do… At least not yet.”