Charles followed My Own with his eyes as she walked away from the ship, and looked at Da’Mira, said, “Home? Was she born on Earth?”
Before Da’Mira could answer, one of her security men approached and handed her a mobile device. “Excuse me. Professor,” She said and stepped away.
Charles approached My Own. By her rich accent he didn’t have trouble figuring out where the girl was from, and he asked, “What part of Scotland?”
My Own looked at Charles and flashed him a curious smile. “Dalnaspidal,” she said and picked a flower at her feet and held it to her nose.
“Please don’t do that,” Charles said and snatched the flower from her hand.
“Oy, why did you do that?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just we don’t know what plants here might be poisonous.”
“How could anything so beautiful be poisonous?”
“That’s one thing we are here to find out.”
“Something’s happened in orbit,” Da’Mira said; her voice tight. I have to return to the ship… now! Come on, My Own.”
“Can’t I stay?”
“I’ve no time to argue, we need to go.”
“But I want to stay.”
“She can stay with me,” Charles said.
Da’Mira took a moment, with a reluctant tone in her voice she said, “Yes – fine all right.”
Charles followed Da’Mira partway up the shuttle ramp and asked, “What is it, what’s wrong?”
“The Xavier exploration ship, Seeker just jumped out of a wormhole and is approaching the planet.”
“What’s that mean?” Charles asked.
The security team rushed past Da’Mira, and she followed them, saying as she boarded the ship, “I don’t know. Continue with the work Professor and keep a close watch on My Own.”
Charles stepped off the shuttle ramp just before it slid up inside the belly of the ship. The outer door sealed closed. He jaunted away from the shuttle as the engines wined, powering up. He turned back toward the ship. He shielded his eyes when the engines roared to life. Shards of grass and dirt kicked into the air. Once the ship cleared the surface he turned and watched it blast into the sky.
My Own joined Charles and watched the shuttle get further and further away until it disappeared behind the clouds. A faint rush of its engines filled the sky. “You’re worried about something,” she said.
Charles looked at the girl, and replied, “Things might’ve gotten more complicated.”
“My brother once told me that there’s no such thing as more complicated, there’s just complicated. If we remember that, the rest of the pieces will fall into place.”
Charles’ eyes rolled down and looked at My Own, he said with a smile, “Your brother must be a smart man.”
“My brother’s a drunk and a fighter. He’s also the wisest man I know.”
“The human race would be a lot better off with more men like him,” Charles said. “I just wonder how long the human race has left.”
Low Planet Orbit of Kepler 369
The Monarch Shuttle of the Lady Da’Mira Tannador
May 3rd, 2442 – Earth Time
The Xavier exploration ship was just a tiny speck of light when Da’Mira’s shuttle achieved high orbit over Kepler 369. In a matter of minutes, the Seeker engulfed the shuttle’s front window and flew into a stationary orbit next to Requiem.
The first of its kind, the Seeker, inaugurated forty years before the Tannador’s ship, showed its age. The family Xavier purchased the vessel second hand from the Hyguards and even then, the craft looked beaten and weatherworn. Da’Mira could not fathom how the Xaviers kept it operational.
Not the wealthiest of families, the Xaviers had little resources to keep their ship equipped and functioning and even less capital to construct a new craft. The family sought an existence, gaining more and more wealth from the royalties of their video feeds.
Before Da’Mira’s ship landed on Requiem she received a message inviting her to land on the Seeker. Unprecedented, considering the Tannadors were the legal custodians of the planet and she should receive their emissary. “Tell Seeker we will accept their invitation,” Da’Mira told Requiem’s security officer.
“Milady is that wise?” the security officer asked.
Da’Mira didn’t answer. She trusted Gregaor, hoping he mastered the vessel. Who else could it be? She wondered. There was no love lost between her father and Gregaor’s mother, but Da’Mira and Gregaor were friends, even if she wanted more. The uneasiness between their families made a romantic relationship difficult.
The shuttle landed on the Seeker. Da’Mira stood next to her pilot. Beyond the main window of her shuttle, she saw a cluttered landing bay. She wondered how a vessel so filthy still functioned. Appalled at no resemblance of order; Da’Mira found the flight crews dressed in dirty coveralls and dejected. No wonder they’re the least wealthy of the Nine. This is a shamble.
Her two security men led Da’Mira out of the shuttle. A harsh smell of engine grease and fuel lingered in the air. Da’Mira had never been on a Xavier craft before and wondered if all of their properties were in the same disarray, despite what she witnessed on their video broadcasts. Then she wondered: have I just walked into a trap? Her appearance on the Xavier flagship could be misconstrued as an alliance. “Scan the flight deck for recording devices,” she told one of her security men.
“All clear, Milady,” the officer said.
“Let’s not cause any trouble why we are on board. Keep your plasma pistols holstered at all times,” Da’Mira ordered when she exited the shuttle ramp. She didn’t want to be held responsible for an incident between families. She’d already caused enough difficulty, nor did she want her father to have to deal with more disappointment – he’d already done enough, sending her away from Earth.
Five security guards entered the flight deck and approached her. Da’Mira saw the uneasiness in her own bodyguards. The Xavier men were the cleanest things on the entire flight deck. A lead officer approached, saluted and said, “The Lord Xavier welcomes you aboard and has commanded me to escort you and your attendants to him.”
“Very well, captain,” Da’Mira replied. She felt the pressing looks from the flight deck crew as she walked through the bay. Intimidated, she refused to show her discomfort and held her head regal and rigid. A pungent, sour smell filled the deck. She curled her nose and noticed a dirty – slimy residue under her feet. Her stomach tightened but she refused to show her discomfort.
Into an elevator and out onto an upper deck Da’Mira still smelled a remnant of the odor from the flight deck. Though the higher level looked cleaner, the ship showed signs of age. The walls were dim, the color faded. The low light from the ceiling flickered on and off.
Through a chamber door, Da’Mira found a large bright room teaming with activity. Uniformed men and women, dressed in sterile white, worked with fervor at their duty stations, not noticing her presence.
The door slid closed behind Da’Mira and for a moment she forgot she stood on the Seeker. Surprised the chamber had a different contrast from the rest of the ship. Cleaner, organized and more impressive than what she saw after coming off her shuttle. She commanded her security detail to stand down with a motion of her hand while she stepped further into the room.
Mounted on the walls were large holographic monitors lit up with images of Kepler 369.
Da’Mira watched atmospheric scans beaming back to the monitors from all over the planet, the same readouts Requiem’s scanners reported hours before. Confused as to why the Seeker crew were preparing for planet fall, Da’Mira’s personal defenses went up. Had she walked into a trap after all? Something is very wrong here, she thought.
“Hello Da’Mira,” Van Xavier called from the other side of the room. His smile beamed with delight as he approached her. He wore a black and red matching pants and shirt; the high collar left unbuttoned.
“Da’Mira looked for Gregaor, but spared time to return Van’s smile
saying, “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
“My brother thought it would be a good idea to bring me along.”
“Oh, why’s that?” she asked, her attention waned.
“Because my mother can be a bitch,” Van said with a serious tone.
Da’Mira didn’t reply, but she fought to control her facial expression. She forced her lips into a frown and cleared her throat, said, “Um, where is Gregaor?”
“He’s in the antechamber preparing a landing party and sent me out here to smooth you over… what’s he mean by that?”
“He said that, did he?” Da’Mira asked. She tightened her jaw and squared her shoulders.
“You’re different… your face is bright red.”
“Take me to Gregaor please, Van,” Da’Mira said and instructed her men to stay put. She didn’t need their help to put Gregaor in his place.
Van took Da’Mira’s hand and led her through the control room. Da’Mira caught the glimpse on one of the computer terminals, the number of survey teams preparing to go down to the planet. They looked more like they were preparing for an invasion instead of an exploration force.
In through another door and into a smaller room, Da’Mira caught sight of Gregaor standing alongside a group of his peers. More view screens littered the walls. A thin older woman stood near Gregaor. She took notes on a handheld pad. Even without the telecom cameras near him, his actions were recorded. He turned toward Da’Mira when he saw Van leering toward him. He smiled, his silver eyes sparkled, but his expression changed as he studied her face.
“Da’Mira?” Gregaor said giving her a close examination.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You look different is all. I’m not use to you without body paint. You look so…so… normal,” Gregaor said with a lilt of supremacy in his voice.
Da’Mira broke eye contact with him, looked to Van and gave him a warm smile and then sharpened her stare and looked back to Gregaor, and said with hostility in her voice, “What are you doing here?”
Gregaor brought his eyes up to meet Da’Mira’s, and said, “I’m not sure how to tell you this.”
Da’Mira heard the reluctance in his voice as though Gregaor wished he didn’t have to tell her. “Here,” he said and handed her a data pad. “Read this.”
Da’Mira scrolled through the text carefully reading each line. She glanced up at Gregaor and back down at the pad. The sound of activity in the room faded as she focused on the words. “How is this possible?”
“I wish there could have been an easier way to tell you,” Gregaor said.
Lowering the pad to her side, Da’Mira’s expression hardened, she put a sharp edge on her words and said, “This is ridiculous… my father has always been a man of strong principles, so much that it’s always put us at odds with one another. These claims that he…” she gave Gregaor a sullen stare. The Union wasn’t punishing Hek’Dara for his principles they were holding him accountable for hers.
Gregaor cleared his throat and said in absolute, “At this point your claim to Kepler 369 is void. You’ve ignored the summons back to Earth. Since you were stubborn – as you usually are – I’m here to survey Kepler 369 and report my findings back to my mother. She plans on filing a claim for the planet upon my return.”
Outraged, Da’Mira’s narrow features hardened. Her hazel eyes blinked at Gregaor, and she stared at him – her eyes glazed over. She wished she knew the Union charter better but understood enough to know there were certain protocols to adhere to. In a softened voice she said, “My expedition teams are already on the planet. We have had an archeologist on the surface for several weeks. The Tannador claim to the planet is solid. No Union decree can change that.” She thrust the data pad back at Gregaor.
Downtrodden, Van asked, “What’s happening?”
Gregaor laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and said, “Da’Mira, I’m not cruel. I’m here doing a job…” He swallowed his next words when he remembered the pompous woman near him recording everything he said. He took a step near Da’Mira, Van followed. Gregaor lowered his voice and continued, “That being said, I don’t know why we can’t come to some kind of arrangement.”
“What about your mother?”
Van made a growling sound in the back of his throat.
Gregaor tapped Van and still whispering told Da’Mira, “She’s not here. We’re hundreds of light years from Earth… out here I don’t understand why we can’t make things up as we go along.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Gregaor grinned and before he spoke, looked back at his stately recorder and took a few more steps away from her. Again, Da’Mira and Van followed. “I propose we share the planet… for the time being. Whichever survey team discovers the most interesting artifacts wins the planet. The loser will wait before returning to Earth, to give the winner time to file a claim.”
Da’Mira pondered the proposal for a moment. It wasn’t the idea she wanted to win the planet, the idea was not allowing Lucinda Xavier to win. “Under one condition.”
“Name it,” Gregaor replied.
“A team is already on the planet looking for a missing colleague. They mean to find him. In the interim, allow us to continue our survey in the region where he was lost. That team stays there, and I pull the other groups off planet in the other regions.”
Gregaor took a long moment before replying. His emotionless silver eyes did not waiver from Da’Mira. Finally, he said with a carefree gesture, “That seems reasonable enough. I think we should seal our agreement over dinner… you will host.”
It didn’t take time for Da’Mira to agree. With what parts of the ship she saw and its filthy conditions, she shuttered to think what the galley looked like. “I’ll oversee to the preparation myself. You and your brother will attend I’m sure.”
“Oh yes,” Van said and clapped his hands.
Gregaor smiled, said, “Then it’s settled…”
“We’re losing signal!” a technician shouted. Several alarms blared throughout the room.
“The probes are malfunctioning,” another technician yelled over the alarms.
Gregaor spun around on the heels of his shoes. The holographic images on the screens showed the probes out of control and crashing toward the planet. “What the hell!”
Gregaor ran into the larger control room with Da’Mira and Van chasing after him. On the bigger screens the images sent from all over the planet were the same… each probe plummeted toward the surface – the videos faded and went black.
The main klaxon rang throughout the ship.
Da’Mira backed up; she saw the bewildered glances on the flight crews faces. They were having a complete system failure – even Gregaor seemed at a loss as he and his personnel tried to figure out what was happening. Da’Mira tried to contact Requiem with a device she took out of her pocket. Even it appeared to be malfunctioning. She looked for her guards.
Without warning the Seeker shook out of control. Everyone in the room fell to the floor, pulled when the artificial gravity yanked them, and held them down.
Scared, Van yelled, “What’s happening?”
Da’Mira tried to reach for him but she couldn’t move. Her muscles contracted and contorted, liquid spilled from her eyes. Her breathing became labored.
Instruments along the walls exploded, control panels sparked – smoke filled the room. Alarms cried out. The lights along the wall went out and the red tint of emergency lights lit the room.
In desperation Da’Mira turned her head to look for Gregaor. He lay inches from her. “Gregaor!” she shouted, but her words were muffled by the sensational clamor of the klaxon whaling inside the room. Above the sensory confusion of the alarm, Da’Mira heard a woman’s voice calling to her. She focused, concentrating on the words that echoed in her head.
HELP ME… LADY TANNADOR!
IT’S ALL GONE WRONG…
HELP ME… COLIN… COLIN WHERE ARE YOU?
The
ship shuttered one last time and then stopped. The gravity went back to normal, the emergency lights flashed off and the main lights returned.
Da’Mira sat up, her chest tightened – bile welled up from her stomach, but she pushed it aside and sprung to her feet. In the corner of the room, for just a brief second Da’Mira thought she saw the faded image of a hooded woman – her dark face was twisted and contorted – unrecognizable.
“Da’Mira…” Gregaor called.
Over all that happened, Da’Mira focused on the voice and the form of the woman that appeared in front of her. It didn’t even occur to her to ask if Gregaor and Van were all right. Catching her breath, confused, she regarded Gregaor, but said nothing.
“Are you all right?” Gregaor asked.
Da’Mira offered a nod.
A smile graced Gregaor’s lips and he said, “I guess this means we should skip the dinner.”
Puzzled Da’Mira reached out and snagged Gregaor’s arm in her hand, pulled him close and asked, “You didn’t… didn’t hear her… see her?”
“See who?”
Da’Mira questioned what she saw, concluding that the mayhem in the control room caused her to hallucinate. She refused to allow herself to be swept away by panic and bedlam, dismissing the phantasm as nothing more than her mind compensating for the ordeal.
Again, Gregaor asked, “Da’Mira, are you all right?”
“Yes – yes fine,” Da’Mira replied knowing that was far from the case.
Gregaor turned shouting commands; the stunned crew dazed and baffled over what happened, snapped to attention when he yelled. His strong voice carried throughout the chamber.
Da’Mira looked for her men, she wondered if Requiem suffered the same problem. A cold nervous hand took hold of her arm; she jumped, realizing it was Van, she drew him close. He looked white as a ghost. His worried eyes, glassy and red, stared at Da’Mira with a bemused glare. She turned toward him and held his hand, and asked, “Van – what’s wrong?”
Van shook his head no – his lower lip quivered, and he said in a short timorous reply, “I saw her too.”
Origin Expedition Page 27
