“Little brother this is the only way out… you have to trust me. You trust me, don’t you?”
Van nodded and followed Gregaor’s direction. The interior of the shuttle folded in on itself, weakening from the crash and the heat from the fire. Gregaor burned himself on the back panel when he touched the outer casing. He withdrew his hand, but with determination he forced the small casing open. An ejection handle lay behind the opening. Also, hot, Gregaor refused to let the handle go, giving it a hard jerk. An outer escape hatch blew away from the hull. The fresh oxygen fed the fire, smoke bellowed from the opening.
Gregaor pushed Van through the hatch and followed him. The two escaped the shuttle before the craft exploded. The force from the blast shoved them both to the ground. Van let out a yelp, and Gregaor called out a loud “Huh!” when he fell.
Van scrambled away. Gregaor called for him, pushing himself off the ground. He limped forward, glimpsing Van bolting into a crop of tall weeds, where he sobbed in terror.
“Van,” Gregaor said in a calm voice. He understood how timid his brother could be. “Van… it’s over. We’re out of danger.”
“Are we?” Van’s question filled with doubt.
Gregaor looked to the pale pink sky. The sun already disappeared in the horizon and it wouldn’t be long before night settled in. “We need to find shelter for the night,” he told Van.
Van peaked out from behind the tall weeds, fixed a pale stare at Gregaor and walked out from the wild plants, his clothes and face covered in black soot. He gulped and asked, “You have an idea where we are?”
Gregaor saw the mountains, their only chance was to find shelter there. The sky looked clear so there didn’t seem to be any danger of bad weather. It would be night before they reached the mountain’s base and its protection, but he thought it the best option. Van wasn’t use to being in the wild, and before coming to Kepler 369 he’d never been on a planet. Gregaor logged enough time planet side, that he understood the risks of staying a night on an alien world. He couldn’t count all the times he’d been on expeditions. Sleeping on the cold hard ground, drinking water out of recyclers and eating food he’d killed. His parents would think him mad. He never had to leave the comforts of the Seeker let alone drink urine from a purifier or eat creatures killed by his own hand.
Gregaor didn’t want to brag, but Van couldn’t be in better hands. Being on an alien world came as second nature to him and he feared nothing. Nothing until he heard the howl in the distance of something very large and menacing. He stepped forward, his legs were swelling from their injuries and he struggled to walk. Again, a roar came from the distance, but sounded closer.
He reached for his hip, but Gregaor lost his plasma pistol in the crash. He looked at the fire still burning inside the gutted ship. Its amber hue haloed over the wreckage like a dome. Another howl cried in the distance, as the fire drew the creature toward them. Gregor guessed it might be further away than expected, but he didn’t want to put his theory to the test.
“We need to go,” Gregaor said. He hobbled on his sore legs and wished he had a hit of gold to get him through the pain.
“Gregaor – I’m – I’m scared,” Van said in a broken tone.
“It’s all right, little brother,” Gregaor said wondering if his reply sounded believable. He reached out for Van and pulled him close, said, “It will take more than some nasty planet to do in the Xavier brothers, believe me.”
“Yeah –” Van said with a renewed bravery and a lilt of trepidation in the back of his throat.
Gregaor gave a fake smile, uncertain if he made the right choice for either of them. He turned them toward the mountain. There he hoped to find safety.
Kepler 369 – Inside the Ancient Temple
The Expedition of Charles Long
May 5, 2442 – Earth time
Charles looked at the huge structural beams that canvassed the vaulted ceiling like giant spider legs that prevented the top of the temple from falling in on them. He tried to imagine the reason for the place. It looked like a museum, a library, or a governing estate… He studied a grouping of statues around the main hall. They wore sleek suits of armor. Their faces covered with long masks that fitted against ornate ceremonial helmets. They carried tall staffs, clutched in their fist, while the ends remained planted against their boot. He studied paintings that hung throughout the room. Holographic images that showed gleaming cities, lovely seascapes and beautiful valleys, yet, he saw no images of the indigenous life forms.
Befuddled, Charles didn’t know where to begin. If he had his equipment and his team, they would be busy categorizing and scrutinizing every little detail. Lost without his team, Charles doubled his efforts without them. Just their presence and comradery strengthened him. Comradery...
Charles gasped when the thought hit him. Not a museum, but a sanctuary. He circled around the room. A meeting place… but for who? He bit his lower lip. Its meaning remained an enigma.
Charles needed to access the computers… if they worked – which, by the condition of the complex, he believed they did. The information could not only shed some light on the planet… but all the planets he’d visited before.
Without power however, Charles found himself at an impasse. His thoughts excited him even if they were just a working hypothesis. Besides the information he might get from the use of the computers, he believed he could learn how things worked throughout the center.
On all the worlds he’d surveyed, he found that all the technology functioned with the same basic mathematic logic, a logic that didn’t seem to apply to Kepler 369. Still, with the power off he would just let his wild imagination get carried away.
The only thing he knew for sure was that his friends remained frozen down the corridor – everything else was speculation.
Remember the most logical thing in front of you is the least likely to work, Charles remembered Vincent Abernathy telling him that. Vincent had a knack for seeing things no one else could. “Wish you were here to help me set you free, old friend,” Charles muttered.
“Did you say something, Professor?” My Own asked. She’d sat quiet on the floor staring at a plaque of alien writing on the wall.
“I’m just feeling a little – stupid right now.”
My Own stood and stretched. “You said yourself you can’t do anything without power.”
Charles looked at the dark-haired girl, never thinking she heard him talking to himself. “Yes, I said that,” he chortled and stared at her with a relaxed face.
My Own returned the smile. “Well then, let’s concentrate on getting the power back on. It could be something simple as a bad receptacle or something.”
“I doubt it was a bad receptacle that knocked all of our probes out of orbit. It’s more like a dampening field,” Charles said. His eyes whirled in their sockets. “Dampening field…” he drew in a deep breath, ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair, whistled and smiled.
“You have the answer?” My Own said in adulation.
“No – but I have an idea,” replied Charles.
Several hours later after Charles and My Own tore through the back of every computer terminal in the main room; Charles sat on the floor against a wall, his resolve less than adequate. Alien tech wasn’t his strong point. He had to examine the computer in the ice chamber.
“It’s freezing in there… you won’t last long,” My Own said. Her face twisted.
“We’ve looked through every computer in here,” Charles explained. “I have to make sure what I’m looking for isn’t in there.” He pointed.
“That’s just it, Professor, I’m not sure what you’re looking for.”
“A dampening field has to have a power source. No matter how small. It wouldn’t show up on any scans, but it would be enough energy to send out a pulse to a relay station – probably on the mountain. Then from one relay station to another the signal passes until the field encircles the planet. It’s sort of un-energy.”
“Un-energy
,” My Own said stupefied. “You know, Professor, you sound more and more like my brother by the minute.”
“Something tells me I shouldn’t be flattered,” Charles replied.
“How long will you need to be in there?” My Own asked. She followed Charles toward the long corridor.
Charles shivered. “I’ll need at least twenty minutes.”
“You’ll get a good case of frost bite from being in there that long.”
Charles agreed. The corridor wasn’t bright, and even with a flashlight it wouldn’t be any faster. “If I had a coat and…”
“And some tools?” Hyta Winter asked standing in the complex door.
Shocked, Charles spun around. My Own jumped and cursed under her breath. “Professor!”
“I see her –” A lump formed in Charles’ throat. Relieved and elated when he saw Hyta. He scooped the old woman up in his arms, careful not to hurt her. Over Hyta’s shoulder he saw others of his group entering the temple, surprised to see Da’Mira Tannador among them.
Da’Mira, haggard and dirty greeted My Own with a wide smile. “I’m glad you’re well,” she said taking hold of the girl by her arms and pulling her close, though forgoing a complete hug.
“When the creature attacked us, I feared the worse,” Hyta told Charles.
They all exchanged stories of their journey to the temple. Charles filled in the rest of Hyta’s team about what he believed to be a cryogenic system encasing the others attacked by the creature. “I took some time to figure it out, but I think that creature isn’t a creature at all, but a protective security system.”
“So, it’s a guard,” Hyta said.
“But protecting what?” Da’Mira asked.
“That’s a good question. But what’s more to the point is – why didn’t it come in here?” Charles asked.
“If what you say is true professor, maybe it’s not programmed to come in here,” My Own said. “Which means…”
Charles finished her sentence, “Which means there’s other guards in the temple – something more dangerous than what’s outside.”
Charles’ words cast a silence in the room. He even caused goose bumps to quiver up his own spine. He surveyed the room, his defenses went into overdrive. Every shadow drew his attention. He brushed off the ominous feeling and turned to Hyta, fixed on the task at hand, rescue his friends. “What supplies were you able to bring?”
Hyta showed Charles digging and mechanical tools. Blow torches and hand powered scissor jacks. Charles found an assortment of heavy jackets and gloves he needed to enter the cryogenic area. He suited up, and drew Hyta away from the others. “I want you to keep an eye on this while I’m trying to restore power.” Charles took out the wooden casket from his duffle bag.
“You kept a hold of it,” Hyta said with a wide grin.
“Unfortunately, that’s all I could save.”
Hyta took hold of the casket and held it close. “You still think it’s important?”
“I do –” Charles saw the worry in Hyta’s face. He took her by the arm and led her away from the others. “What is it?”
“You and I have been on a lot of digs before.”
Charles nodded. Hyta’s voice sounded old. It concerned him. He’d always known her to be youthful and vibrant. This planet, he feared had a way of destroying one’s resolve.
Hyta continued with a low but firm tone. “This is the first time I’ve felt overwhelmed. Everything we have done since we arrived on this planet has been… been blocked, for lack of a better word. We are over our heads on this one.”
Charles grimaced. “What are you saying? You want us to… to what, cut our losses and get off this planet. Leave our colleagues, our friends trapped in the ice? I’m not prepared to do that.”
“Then you must watch the rest of your team die. Because that’s what will happen if we stay here – are you prepared for that?”
Livid, Charles spoke with conviction, said, “I’m willing to do whatever I can to free our friends, but I will not sacrifice any others in the attempt.”
Hyta inhaled and took hold of Charles’ arm. “Then I’m sorry, my boy, but that’s precisely what will happen if we stay here much longer.”
Besieged, Charles hoped he wasn’t making a crucial mistake. He’d never had a responsibility like this.
Kepler 369 – Near the Mountain Base
May 5, 2442 – Earth time
Gregaor struggled to keep Van motivated while they traipsed along the far side of the eclipsing mountain. He drug his feet along the tall green-yellow grass and lagged behind. Gregaor understood why his mother hated Van so much. His simple mind and isolated thoughts were more than distracting, they were annoying. Yet Gregaor understood his brother in ways his mother couldn’t. Despite his simpleton manner, Van was loyal. A loyalty he never gave Lucinda, and sometimes Gregaor wondered if he deserved his brother’s allegiance.
“Come on Van, keep up.”
“I’m cold and tired.”
“It will only get colder. The sooner we get to some shelter the better,” Gregaor said and for the first time noticed Van’s ripped clothes, no doubt from the shuttle crash. Foolish mistake bringing him here, Gregaor thought. He took off his jacket and put it around Van. It swallowed him. “This should keep you warm,” he said and walked ahead.
Van picked up his pace and joined Gregaor. “Why we going this way?” he asked. His face smudged with smoke and dirt. He wrapped himself in the jacket.
“Before our scanners went out, we detected a contingent of Da’Mira’s people moving toward the mountain. If that is where they are, that’s where we will find help,” Gregaor said. Though he didn’t want Tannador help, it was better than no help at all.
When the sun disappeared behind the peaks an hour ago, Gregaor knew the challenge that lay before them. With no supplies, no torches to light their way, it would have been better to hunker in for the night and continue in the morning.
Gregaor detected a presence nearby that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Whatever was out there moved closer to them, so, he tried to keep his brother moving along.
By all rights Gregaor should have stopped. His feet were cold, and his fingers numb. He had dried blood on the palms of his hands from a cut in his side. Pain caught in his back, he kept the ache to himself. Van couldn’t help him. His brother had hard enough time keeping focused and not getting lost in the dark.
“What’s that?” Van pointed toward the mountain.
A light pulsated ahead. Gregaor stopped to get his bearings. It wasn’t coming from the mountain.
Van ran ahead like an insect drawn to the light. He stumbled ahead in the tall grass and for a minute Gregaor thought about letting him go and remembered the specter dogging them.
“Van, wait for me. We’re not sure what that might be.”
Van turned toward him, eyes afire with excitement. His mouth turned up into a gaping smile.
Gregaor took hold of Van by the scruff of his shirt. “Let’s approach quietly.”
“All right,” Van replied and lowered his shoulders defeated.
The tall grass thinned as Gregaor and Van neared the backside of a towering temple. The ground around the construct, littered with fallen stone, chipped away with time. He reached out to touch the wall, his hand hovered inches away. Energy radiated from the stone.
“What is it?” Van asked.
Gregaor saw the concern in his brother’s face. “It’s nothing,” he said, knowing Van wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t even sure he did. “Keep close… be quiet… and don’t touch the wall,” he warned Van in a low, but firm voice. The one thing he’d learned from the archeologists on the Seeker was to touch nothing without studying first. Gregaor eyed the building and considered this structure something that needed to be studied – in detail.
Van backed away from the building but stayed close to Gregaor.
The pair rounded the temple. A glow from inside shone through the entrance, voices came from beyon
d the door, Gregaor motioned for Van to stop. He placed his index finger to his mouth.
Van nodded, but asked in a low whisper, “Who are they?”
“It’s the Tannador landing party.”
Van’s expression lightened. “Da’Mira,” he said in loud adulation.
Gregaor placed his hand over Van’s mouth and pulled him close. “I don’t want them to know we are here. At least not until I’m ready for them to know it.”
Van’s breathing became hardened.
Gregaor let go of him, and whispered, “Sorry, little brother. Now keep quiet and follow me.”
Inside the door Gregaor pointed to a corner behind a stone statue. They hunkered down. Gregaor saw Da’Mira. The others in the party he didn’t know. He waited, listened, and bided his time. He heard two of the scientists, a middle age man and a much older woman in a heated discussion. Then he noticed the wooden casket in the man’s grip. Covered in ancient writing and symbols it no doubt was of great importance. The man handed the casket to the old woman – she had a hard time holding onto it.
“Just keep it safe,” the man said. “If I don’t come back I expect you to figure out what it does. It could be more than just a wooden casket.”
The old woman held it tight, said, “I’ll make sure it gets into the right hands… to people who will put it to good use.”
Gregaor broke cover. “You should consider it in good hands with me,” he said snatching the casket from the old woman’s hands.
The male scientist tried to wrench the casket back out of Gregaor’s hands, but he stood taller and had more strength than the man did. Gregaor shoved him to the floor.
“Gregaor!” Da’Mira called from across the room. “You’re alive.” She positioned herself between him and her archeologist, who scrambled to his feet.
Gregaor clutched the casket in his arms and replied, “Yes… alive. No thanks to you.”
Da’Mira’s face flushed red, and he figured he might have chosen the wrong words.
“Me? You must have hit your head in the crash Gregaor Xavier because you launched toward the planet long before I even left Requiem. And for your information my captain lost his life trying to get me to the surface.”
Origin Expedition Page 31
