TROPHY

by Paul M. Schofield

  A few moments after VanDevere left, Kolanna appeared in the doorway. She was unusually somber, showing only a hint of her infectious smile.

  “Kolanna, come in. How are you feeling?” Rogerton said, trying to conceal her fatigue.

  “I'm fine, Lieutenant, just some radiation burns and nausea. The skin coating meds help me feel better, but it smells awful!” She wrinkled her nose with a disgusted look. “I know you're tired, I'm only here for a moment. How are you feeling? Did the Star-Commander tell you about our crew mates that were lost? We all feel so badly about them. Their poor families, this is such a shock. It makes us all so angry.”

  “I'm angry, too, Kolanna. My heart truly hurts. They were under my command and that makes the pain even deeper. The Star-Commander was comforting and gave me valuable advice.”

  “She's a great leader, I'm proud to serve under her,” Kolanna said. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

  “I feel no pain, just very tired. When the meds wear off, no doubt I will feel much worse,” she said, laughing weakly. “That was a good bit of flying, Pilot. I was starting to tunnel vision and blacked out. You pulled us through. Well done!”

  Kolanna smiled a little wider. “The Star-Commander hinted that a new ship might be larger. I am thinking a Cutter, perhaps, in place of the Patrol Craft. And a Cutter is commanded by a Lieutenant, not a Lieutenant-Warden. Perhaps a promotion possibility?” she said, giving her a sideways glance.

  “You're too much. That's the last thing I want to think about. What I want most now is sleep and then a real vacation, even a short one, on real ground, breathing fresh air scented with living plants and flowers. That's all.”

  “I hope you get it soon,” Kolanna said as she quietly left the room. The nodding Lieutenant-Warden quickly fell asleep, fully realizing the first of her requests.

  Chapter XVIII

  Everything hurt. Her skin was painful and her body ached when she moved. The meds helped substantially, but Rogerton limited their use in favor of a sharp mind. There were too many new questions to be answered, and she didn’t want to keep the Star-Commander waiting.

  Rogerton walked to Repair Bay Two to meet VanDevere at 09:00 hours. Rogerton was early but the Star-Commander was already there assessing the damage to the decontaminated patrol ship.

  “Reporting for duty, Ma’am,” she said in her cheeriest voice.

  VanDevere smiled. She liked this officer – smart, tough, punctual, and not afraid of personal discomfort. She also appreciated her sensitivity to situations – when to speak, and when to keep quiet.

  “It is good to see you up and moving about, Lieutenant, although somewhat labored. Are you in much pain?”

  “It is manageable, Ma’am,” she said without complaint, although the Star-Commander knew it barely so.

  “Your ship is essentially gone from the blast shield back and the engine is destroyed. An ion phase pulse-cannon is a formidable weapon.” They walked along the side of the ship, examining the blackened and twisted hull. “Here is where the hull was breached. You can see how it damaged the Specialists compartment. Without bulkheads on each compartment Bestmarke’s attack would have destroyed the entire ship, killing everyone. The synch-shielding helped protect you, but it was thin at that distance. Another blow while your ship was tumbling would have been even more deadly.”

  “My crew and I are thankful you were there to help us, Ma’am.”

  VanDevere looked at her and smiled again. They continued to circle the damaged ship noting the levels of destruction. “I am pleased that the Octopus unit is still attached with surprisingly little damage. Those units are expensive and difficult to replace.”

  After finishing their inspection of the ship they walked into the storage bay where the two heavy wooden pedestals were. The pedestals had been placed immediately into a sealed blast proof chamber, and VanDevere herself had locked it with a retinal scan. The Specialists guarding the chamber stepped back as the two officers approached. VanDevere opened the hatchway and they both went in, closing it behind them.

  The chamber was cube-shaped measuring ten meters on each side. Every action was closely monitored and sensors for every possible condition were employed although none were visible. The chamber appeared plain and unencumbered. The two pedestals were sitting near the center about a meter apart. An almost invisible shimmer, like clear glass, sparkled faintly above each one. The two officers just stood and stared. VanDevere was the first to speak.

  “I can see why you were puzzled, Lieutenant. We have been scanning these since we brought them aboard. The sensors are showing life signs, but have failed to identify what they are. Most unusual, they match nothing in the data-banks. Franelli’s hand in this is obvious so we must be cautious.”

  “Do we know how they are powered?” Rogerton said.

  “The pedestals have chambers and some sort of mechanism in them that appears to be nuclear, as best we can tell. Sensors show them to be stable with no radiation leakage, essentially inert. They are doing something – we just do not know what it is. And here is the small shiny plate on the side that you mentioned in your report. Upon close inspection it is really two plates very close together, perhaps switches of some sort. Would you like to try one?”

  Rogerton remembered what happened the last time she touched the plate. Her heart began to beat faster. She knelt down and closely examined the plate of the first pedestal, it was indeed two plates. With a deep sigh she touched the upper plate and quickly stood beside VanDevere. They watched as the nearly invisible shimmer turned to a sparkling sheen. It grew darker like a thick fog and gradually dissipated, giving way to a form that became more defined, distinct, and utterly recognizable.

  There was no noise, no frightful surprise, only awe and bewilderment. The two officers could only stare and then look at each other. With eyes wide open, they gazed at the large head and neck of a majestic black panther. Its eyes were shut as if asleep, and its mouth was partially open revealing enormous yellowish-white fangs and teeth.

  “What a magnificent animal!” VanDevere said. “This is not the way for it to live, trapped as nothing more than an oddity, a toy for degenerate men. It should be in a forest, running, and hunting with room to breathe, to live freely. What a great sadness this is.”

  “This flies in the face of everything the New Victorian Empire stands for!” Rogerton said. “Will this kind of behavior ever be eradicated from the human race? For five centuries we thought we had this bloodthirsty dominance under control. Even now it springs to life again in this beast of a man, this Bestmarke! The earth wide work to restore the nearly extinct species has been applauded for centuries. And now we have men like this who care nothing for the freedom and welfare of these beautiful animals, but only want to dominate and kill them. To make matters worse, there are others like him out there on the fringes which we know nothing about. Will we ever see an end to this brood?”

  “Someday, perhaps. For now our mission is clearly defined, and all the more so as we see abominations such as this. Shall we see if the lower switch awakens the creature?”

  “I am tempted not to, especially after my frightening experience with the lion,” Rogerton said. “This animal may not be as aggressive, though. If we are quiet and stand farther back, perhaps it will perceive us as less threatening.”

  She nervously glanced at VanDevere, reached down and touched the lower plate, and quickly backed to the wall of the chamber where VanDevere had moved. They stood still, lowered the lighting level, and waited. Thirty seconds passed with no change. A full minute passed. Suddenly the golden feline eyes of the panther snapped open. Yawning widely it revealed all its fearsome teeth in their glory. It licked its mouth with its large pink tongue, and began to look about. It had only gazed for a moment until the sight of the two officers brought it to rapt attention. It silently stared at them with intense concentration.

  “What do we do now?” Rogerton said, staring at the panther.

  “I am quite at a loss,” V
anDevere said, her gaze also fixed on the great cat. “They do not teach this situation at the Academy.”

  The panther continued to stare at them.

  “Unless there is a timer on that switch, we will have to get closer to turn it off,” Rogerton said. “I will try it myself, one person will be less of a threat.” She glanced again at VanDevere.

  “Very well,” VanDevere said, content to remain at the wall.

  As Rogerton moved forward the panther growled with a low rumble. She stopped, and so did the panther. Rogerton again began to move forward, inching her steps. The panther growled again, a little louder. Rogerton stopped and turned to the Star-Commander. “What now?”

  VanDevere just shrugged, a grimace on her face. This was definitely unfamiliar territory.

  Rogerton knew the panther couldn’t hurt her, but she wanted to keep it as calm as possible. She continued to inch forward, speaking softly in a monotone. “We do not want to hurt you. We want to help you. We know that you are trapped. We want to help you.” She repeated her words and avoided eye contact, not showing her teeth as she spoke.

  The panther continued to growl, although not as strongly. She continued her slow advance and soft speech until she was close enough to reach down and touch the bottom plate. The panther was now growling and panting intermittently. As Rogerton stood up, she risked a look into the big cat’s face. She expected a fierce roar or scream, but instead sensed a depth of understanding in its big yellow eyes. A feeling of fear, loneliness, and even gratitude seemed to pierce her heart, as if she really understood its terrible plight. The sensation was fleeting and over quickly as the big cat fell asleep again, its eyes shut, and its mouth open as they had seen at first.

  The Star-Commander approached and both continued to stare at the beautiful animal. “Good work, Lieutenant.

  “It seemed to touch my heart,” Rogerton said, struggling to control her emotions. “I feel so sorry for it. I did not know you could sense such feelings from animals.”

  “There is much we still do not know about them, and perhaps never will. But not many have had an experience such as yours. Remember it – it may be useful to you in the future.” Vandevere walked to the other pedestal. “Let us see what this one holds, now that we know a little more what to expect.”

  Her words were not reassuring. Rogerton wasn’t looking forward to another emotional roller-coaster ride, but professionalism to duty and obedience to her superior officer were paramount, so she reached over and touched the top plate. The nearly invisible shimmer above the second pedestal turned to a sparkling sheen and grew darker as the first one had done. The darkened fog-like sheen gradually dissipated, showing a somewhat different form, but left them no doubt as it cleared into horrifying reality.

  They were quite taken aback. They stood speechless with their mouths open and their eyes wide with shock.

  “Great heavens!” VanDevere said. After a lengthy pause she said: “What is it? Who is it? What has Bestmarke done?”

  They both continued to stare at the head and neck of a man, a man with a full head of hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His hair was auburn with flecks of gray and white and his skin was lightly tanned and freckled. Tiny crow’s feet wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the beginnings of forehead wrinkles indicated a man used to spending much time out-of-doors. The widow’s peak and high cheek bones gave him a distinctive, pleasant, masculine look. He probably would have been close to two meters tall and thirty to forty years old. But at the moment his eyes were shut and his thin lips slightly separated. Like the panther, he appeared to be sleeping.

  “How and where did he get this man?” VanDevere said, her face white with shock. “It would seem the appropriate question would be ‘When did he get this man’? No man alive today has hair! Do you realize what this means, Lieutenant? Bestmarke has somehow traveled through time! Franelli has figured it out! The laws of physics, as we know them, say it is impossible. Franelli has discovered the secret! This is why CENTRAL was so insistent to capture him. This is profound! How are these heads being kept alive?” she said, her color beginning to return. “Have you ever seen anything like this man before, Lieutenant?”

  “I have never seen a living man like him. Only in the pictures of the ancient times, in the archives at CENTRAL University, do you see images that resemble this man. What has Bestmarke done? This is both profound and hideous. And what do we do with him? Do we awaken him? Can we speak with him and understand him? Can Bestmarke go back through time again without Franelli? Is the programming built into his ship? This has enormous implications!”

  “Enormous, indeed.” VanDevere looked at Rogerton, and then back at the man. “He must be taken to CENTRAL. We dare not awaken him. He is obviously the result of Franelli’s twisted genius and Bestmarke’s arrogant ambition. The experts at CENTRAL will want to question Franelli before they awaken this man. I hope we can be there when they do awaken him.”

  “If Franelli has discovered how to use the Keyhole to go back in time, it could open up some dangerous complications. It could change the very fabric of our society, and undermine the Empire,” Rogerton said, continuing to look at the man. She turned back to the Star-Commander with a fearful look. “If Bestmarke indiscriminately removed people living in the past, it could instantly change our reality and send us along a totally different time thread. Even the smallest change in the time-space continuum would have profound affects upon society, even the human race itself! We could each be standing here one moment, and then the next – totally gone – never having existed at all. That is indeed frightening. And worse, some killer like Bestmarke could be indiscriminately controlling it, manipulating countless lives, with no concern for the consequences.”

  The Star-Commander looked thoughtfully at her young officer. “For a long time, CENTRAL has suspected that Franelli was working on time travel through the Keyhole. Years ago he was a top researcher at CENTRAL, vigorously studying the Keyhole’s secrets, and all forms of nuclear engineering. His brilliance was profound, and a bit frightening to some in authority.”

  “What happened to make him leave? I heard it was a Compu-Court decision, but I know little else.”

  “Is that what you have heard? That is something most know nothing about, it is highly classified. But I can tell you this, Franelli was held responsible for a situation that cost many lives. He was sentenced and was being transferred to Luna One when Bestmarke attacked the cruiser carrying him. I was serving as Lieutenant-Commander on that very ship. We were soundly beaten in a bloody battle. Bestmarke escaped with Franelli. Our ship was not destroyed but we lost many lives and I nearly lost my leg in a laser fight. However, I did gain something, a potent hatred for Galen Bestmarke.”

  Both paused and stood quietly, lost in memories of past battles. They looked at the sleeping heads of the man and panther, somehow kept alive by an ingenious mechanism located in the base of each pedestal.

  “Ma’am,” Rogerton said, breaking the silence. “You said there were compartments in the pedestal. Can we see what is inside the one for the man? Hopefully, it will not awaken him.”

  “Let's try. I see little risk at this point. Perhaps we will find some additional clues.”

  Rogerton carefully searched the surface and finally found a small round plate, the size of a button, near the bottom at the rear of the heavy cabinet. She looked up at VanDevere who nodded in approval to touch it. A large panel opened smoothly, revealing a spacious interior with more compartments. The largest of them was obvious as to how it opened but the smaller ones seemed more inert, probably housing the power mechanism for the living head above. The large compartment gave up a number of interesting articles, the first being a rifle with a wooden stock.

  “This is an interesting weapon, and heavy,” Rogerton said, holding it in both hands. “It is a projectile weapon of sorts.” She put it down and picked up a bright yellow plastic container, removing the cover. “This must be the ammunition – brass cartridges with lead tipped c
opper ends. Bullets they used to call them. They look painful and deadly.” She delicately touched one.

  “What else is there, Lieutenant?”

  “Here is a coat. It is covered with stains, probably blood stains.” She grimaced as she looked up at VanDevere. “Look! There are bullet holes in it!” She held it gingerly with one hand and searched the inside with the other. “There is an inner pocket, zippered shut. Something's inside it. Here it is, Ma’am, a leather clutch or wallet.”

  “Let's see what is in it,” VanDevere said, opening it up. “Here is a plastic card with his picture on it – not a good likeness at all! Old English, but readable. It says Driver’s License, State of Montana. Are you familiar with the old geography?” She looked at Rogerton, her eyebrows raised.

  “It also gives us a name,” VanDevere said. “Martin Charles Bucklann, born in 1938. This document is dated 1975, so that would make Martin 37 years old when Bestmarke captured him. The New Beginning was in what year?” She looked up again at Rogerton.

  “It was 2065 of the Ancient Calendar.”

  “So this man is from 90 years previous to that pivotal year. That should be significant. I wonder how CENTRAL will use this information.” VanDevere paused and looked at Rogerton. “All that we have seen here is strictly confidential. All the records taken are classified 50-C1 and will be given to CENTRAL.”

  “Are there any other records from my ship that are usable?”

  “A minimal amount. The Specialist would have had the most important information and she is tragically gone. The only other first-hand information is what is in your memory, Lieutenant. I am quite certain the experts at CENTRAL will want to talk to you personally. You will accompany me to CENTRAL when we get back to Earth.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Rogerton said, feeling somewhat overwhelmed.