Worlds Apart 02 Edenworld

by James Wittenbach

  Keeler took the initiative to lead by example. He jumped over the side, pulling his knees up to his chest and making a cannonball just before he, too, vanished in mid-air. Honeywell jumped a moment later, followed by Toto. BellSouth jumped next, and just as Alkema wondered how Lord Paperlung was going to be talked into it, he realized the lionhead was gone. He jumped.

  The new locale was dark, and reminded them of the abandoned castle on the road to Chiban, but much larger and more intact. They were a great hall. On a kind of altar in the middle of the hall, a great sarcophagus was resting.

  Honeywell stood and helped Captain Keeler off the floor. “I think you’re on the right track, captain. You’d expect the defenses to get more sophisticated as you got close to the nerve center.”

  “These seem more like a world tour than a … defensive system,” Alkema suggested.

  “How long do we stay in this loop?”

  “Looking around, I’m guessing no more than four more jumps,” Keeler guessed. There was a great grinding creak as the lid to the sarcophagus began to open. A creature began rising, a horrible thing with white skin, red glowing eyes, and yellow fangs that glinted in the dark.

  “Orbs,” Alkema cursed.

  “He can’t hurt us,” Keeler muttered, sounding more annoyed than anything else. He pointed to an archway at the far end of the room. “Let’s try that.”

  Keeler, Honeywell, Alkema, Toto, and Southernbell broke for the door. Keeler, Honeywell, Alkema and Toto emerged on the other side. Now finding themselves in a slightly more familiar place.

  “We’re back in Altama,” Alkema gasped.

  Toto shivered. “I got bad memories of this place.”

  Honeywell looked around. Altama at twilight was only a little less raucous than the city they had seen that morning. He could smell a hundred different things cooking in the air as the citizens worked on their evening meals. He had not realized how hungry he was. “Have we considered just staying in place?”

  “Good thought,” Keeler replied, “Unless some sort of teleport mechanism kicks in and sends us wherever we choose to stop. It could explain what happened to the others. I, for one, do not want to end up back in Altama.”

  He looked up and realized Honeywell was gone. “Neg,” he whispered to the dusk. The remaining three walked down the street a bit further, coming to a corner, they turned it, and walked out in the midst of a village of small, very thick trees. Their trunks were as big around as a small house. Indeed, doors, latticework windows with little flower boxes in front were set into the trees; like a village of dwarves from a child’s story-book. One tree-house was set apart from the rest, and where the others were faded and weather-worn, it was bright and new. They had to bend over to make it through the door.

  They passed through to exit on a vast empty plain. They saw peaks in the distance, and all the stars were coming out as the daylight faded away.

  “This is more pleasant,” Keeler said. “Does anyone know any campfire songs?”

  “I don’t want to alarm you captain,” Alkema said. “But, there’s no one behind me right now.”

  “And there’s no one in front of me,” Keeler answered. He turned around to find that Alkema was gone as well.

  “Hallowe’en Planet strikes again,” he muttered.

  Echoes answered him. “Hallowe’en Planet strikes again… Planet strikes again… strikes again … again … again… again…” It built and build into a huge echoing reverberation that made him hold his hands to his ears. The landscape around him faded to blackness. He was standing in the midst of darkness, but had a sense he was back in the labyrinth. He caught a flash of movement in the corner of one eye. He raised his walking stick, and as he did saw some kind of metal weapon flash. He swung and faced himself, staring back at him, holding a walking stick.

  A mirror image of himself, he reached to tough it and it did the same. The mirror effect was clear, but there was still nothing but darkness around him; no light source. Yet, he saw himself reflected on the black pane as plainly lit as daylight. He and his double turned, and he saw a hall of mirrors open up all around, above, and below him.

  Sensing there was nothing better to do at that moment, he began walking, passing himself, and running into himself every few steps. Some of the mirrors were distorted, giving him a bulbous head, or arms that stretched into infinity. He looked into one and saw a tiny bald homunculus staring back at him. He passed other mirrors showing him in blue, green, pink, and yellow. His skin grew tiger stripes and polka dots, turquoise scales and tiny feathers covered him like an Arcadian parrot. A few steps later, he was confronted by a walking skeleton. At another mirror, a naked woman with a face like his met his startled gaze. He passed a small mirror, set at eye level, picture portrait size, in which he saw not his own image, but a naked, crying baby. A pace away from that, a slightly large mirror showed a child. Keeler stared at it. No mistaking the face. He walked to the next, which was a little larger, and saw himself again, about two years older.

  He continued stepping forward, every mirror showed him a little older, but always dressed in his Odyssey Project command uniform. He quickened his pace, passing through child-hood in a few rapid steps, he sprinted through his awkward adolescence, slowed back to a walk through college, young adulthood. He reached an almost full-sized mirror which showed him almost as he was now. The next one, full-size, he bet, would show him his present age. He jumped in front of it.

  Instead of his familiar handsome features, what gazed back were the empty eye-sockets of a rotted skull, ringed by wisps of white hair, wearing a tattered command uniform. Keeler was startled enough to cry out, but before he even heard his own whimper, a louder sound tolled through the chamber.

  The sound that followed was like what was heard when you put ear inside a piano and play the lowest chord, extended and amplified. As it faded throughout the room, a light came up, a primitive incandescent kind of light.

  The eight of them were standing in a circle, equidistant from one another, having simultaneously walked through eight equally spaced doorways.

  A loud cackling laugh filled the chamber, and colored streams weaved through the air and coalesced in the center, taking the form of a bright dragon monster. They had seen a man transform into such a creature back in Altama, except that this image was so much brighter, so much more vibrant than the actual creature had been. It raised itself to its full height, roared and gushed flames.

  Then, the shape shifted again, and it became a man. He was somewhat oversized, although perfectly proportioned. He had high cheek-bones, shining black hair and almond eyes. He was wearing a black and white outfit, with long tails and a bow-shaped tie at his neck. When he opened his mouth, he was clear of voice and his teeth were as white as moonlight.

  “Thank you for coming to our planet,” he said, with enthusiasm at once hearty and breathless. If smarm could power starships, you could have dropped him into Pegasus’s Engine Core and blasted halfway across the galaxy. “However, we are temporarily closed. Please return when we have finished our augmentation and upgraded the entertainment experience. Thank you!” He bowed deeply, then split into five buxom naked women and three hard-bodied men, who jumped out from the ring, gave each of them a warm hug, then vanished in feiry flash, leaving only the cackling laughter hanging in the air.

  Marine Honeywell spoke for all of them. “What the hell was that?”

  “Did you…” Alkema asked.

  “With the mirrors and the …” Scout answered.

  “And they got bigger and you got older…” BellSouth added.

  “Za, that was it…”

  Keeler had a feeling that this was as much as they were going to get. He was pretty sure he understood this place, all the clues were pointing to the same answer. It made perfect sense, and yet he lacked certainty, and he was sure he wasn’t going to get it here. He then noticed the tiny communication node built into his cuff, where it might have been mistaken for a button. "Captain Keeler to Pegas
us. Respond."

  " Pegasus, Spec. Shayne American here, captain, good to hear your voice."

  " Pegasus, we need two... three... four... neg, we need a complete medical evacuation. We also need some Paleo-Engineering teams down here. Send heavy security, Marines. Can you lock onto my signal?"

  "Affirmative, Captain. Two Aves standing by at Launch Ready. Security Teams on board." Another voice came in, Lieutenant Windjammer. "Captain, is that really you?"

  "Za, confirmation code, Mighty-Lovegod-Seven-Something-Something-Something."

  "I think the whole ship just breathed a sigh of relief."

  "Advise when Aves are within two minutes of touchdown." He turned to the landing crew.

  "We reached the temple. We made it inside. Our mission is complete. Let's go home." Eden – The Farside

  “I’m not reading his life signature anywhere,” Eric Molto reported. A blond slab of Republicker maleness, he was leading the search for Lieutenant Redfire, a bit of steam issued from he mouth. Although the day was quickly warming, it was not yet temperate.

  “This is the direction he was last seen heading?” Jordan asked Ironhorse. They had entered an expanse of thick pine-like trees at the eastern edge of the village.

  “Za,” Ironhorse answered.

  “He never was much for nature hikes,” Jordan commented darkly.

  “There is a very weak signal coming from those trees,” Molto pointed toward a copse of low trees with a natural hollow beneath. “It’s not a human life signature.”

  Before the hollow were a faint impression of footprints, too small and with the wrong arrangement of toes for humans, they were profuse on the ground in front of the hollow.

  “Weapons,” Jordan ordered. She and Phillips drew their hand cannons. As if knowing what she would find there, Captain Jordan lifted one of the heavy pine boughs. Tactical Commander Redfire lay unconscious on a bed of leaves, naked and alone. His skin was covered with scratches, and dried blood was smeared around his mouth. “Med-Tech!”

  Phillips screamed.

  Jordan and Ironhorse knelt over him. She reached out and touched his neck. “He’s got a pulse. He’s breathing.” She gently turned his head to the other side. “Are those bite marks?”

  Ironhorse held back. “They … look like, bite marks.”

  “Did something attack him?” Molto asked.

  “He damb well better hope so. Philip John Redfire!” Jordan lightly slapped his cheek. Redfire’s eyes opened. He blinked against the morning light, glanced from one to another of them as though without recognition. He raised himself up long enough to disgorge a sodden lump of blood and saliva from his mouth onto the ground.

  “Phil, Phil… Do you know where you are?”

  “I’m on the Far Side of Eden,” he answered.

  “You sure are,” Captain Jordan muttered. She picked up his landing jacket off the ground and draped it over his shoulders. He looked from one to another of them, eyes squinting against the morning light.

  “Help me up?” Jordan and Ironhorse lifted him from either shoulder. Molto found his pants lying a few meters away in the brush and offered them to him. From the edge of a wood, a she-wolf watched, panting, its tongue reaching out tasting the morning breeze.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By My Estimation, The Date is

  02 Octember 7318

  I am watching from an aft viewport as EdenWorld and its gold mother planet diminish behind us. Pegasus accelerates, and the spheres become disks, become spots, become points of light, and then are swallowed by the infinite darkness of space, leaving only the sun, which in a few hours will be indistinguishable from any other star. I may be the only one watching. Nobody else wants to look back at it.

  Captain Keeler’s Alpha Landing Party was evacuated fifty-four minutes after calling to the ship for rescue. Two flanks of Marines protected them as they left the temple and walked, or were carried, back to the very same ships that had carried them to the planet. (The details of Flt. Lt. Toto and Southernbell’s escape are covered in my earlier entry. I don’t care what anyone else says. I think it’s one hell of a story, even if it doesn’t seem possible. They are alive, aren’t they?) Pegasus – Hospital Four

  Ex. Cmdr. Lear was already in Hospital Four, watching over her son as he lay on his own Mending Bed. Keeler did not realize how bad he must have looked until he saw the horrified expression on her face. “By the Bastard Sons of Enoch, Captain, you look terrible.”

  “Za, Madam, but in a few days, I’ll be healed and you’ll still be… oh, forget about it.”

  “Your hand…”

  “You know, it didn’t even hurt until you mentioned it. Med-Tech!!!” he shouted. The nearest Med-Tech was young, attractive, and female, just as Keeler would have had it. She removed Skinner’s bandage had applied and immersed the captain’s entire hand into a bowl of teal-colored fluid that acted as both anaesthetic and anti-septic wash. “I’ll need six-hundred nano-bots programmed for epidermal reconstruction,” she ordered.

  “Much better,” Keeler sighed. Alkema took the bed adjacent to him. Lear saw that his corresponding hand also was bandaged, and was tempted to ask if Keeler’s mentoring relationship was not going to extremes.

  “I am counting at least seven severe injuries and two deaths among your landing party,”

  she told them. “That’s over fifty per cent casualties, Captain. Why did you not contact the ship for evacuation?”

  Keeler looked to Alkema, saw his own puzzlement reflected back at him. He shrugged. “It never occurred to us. We had to reach the temple.”

  “We had to reach the Temple,” Keeler repeated, and realized he was getting a headache. He looked up at the pretty Med-Tech. “I want to be sedated,” he told her. She obliged him, and he slept for the next seventeen hours. When he revived, he was informed that the Scion Chiban had been demanding an explanation of what he had seen in the Temple, and why the Scion had not been permitted inside. The Scion’s guardsmen had begun to harass the landing parties. Nothing we could not handle, but it made for a tense situation on the ground.

  In the end, there was only one way to placate the Scion Chiban. Reluctantly, the captain made one last trip to the surface.

  Eden – The Temple of Z’Batsu

  They went back to the Temple one last time, Captain Keeler, a pair of Marines, the Scion and two of his guardsmen. They walked through the empty halls for hours before his eminence was satisfied. “An empty shell,” said the Scion, shaking his head. “For centuries, we pledged our honor to guard an empty shell.”

  “And it has brought you wealth, power, and honor,” Keeler reminded him. What he said next would cost the Scion’s two guardsmen their lives. “And so long as you alone know that the Temple is empty, you can preserve your position over the lesser Prefectures.”

  The Scion seemed pleased at this, but still wanting. So, Keeler gave him a little more to chew on. “The Temple is not so much empty, as unfinished. We believe the Z’Batsu intend to return, and finish it. Whoever preserves the integrity of the temple will be … well rewarded I should think.”

  “And what of this machine,” said the Scion, gesturing at George Borrows Things.

  “He has been instructed to guard the Temple,” Keeler explained. “He will remain inside, and allow none to pass except those whom we have chosen.”

  “How will he know?”

  “We are going to give him a riddle. Only those who answer it correctly, shall pass.”

  “Ahhhhh,” you could almost hear the Scion’s satisfied sigh.

  “You will retain your greatness,” Keeler explained. “And one day, your greatness will be magnified beyond your wildest imagining.”

  Or not, you contemptible bastard. Keeler thought.

  The Scion Altama also had to be dealt with. The Captain had no desire to meet with him again, so he sent a detachment of Marines, led by Marine Buttercup (Aside: according to his data-file, Buttercup was raised on a beast station in outer Jutland. When he
was eleven years old, he began lifting a new-born beast over his head. He did this every day until, at the age of fifteen, he could life a full grown beast over his head.) The Marines fought their way into the palace inflicting heavy casualties on the guardsmen. They found the Scion hiding in some kind of armor-reinforced chamber. So, they cut him out with a molecular disruptor and dragged him out into the main square. Buttercup played a holographic message from the captain, informing him that because of his betrayal, dishonor, and deficient hospitality, he was going to be ritually humiliated in the traditional manner of Keeler’s people. At which point, Marine Buttercup pulled the Scion’s underwear over his head and kicked him in the butt. Because of his ritual defeat, the Scion Altama lost all of his status. He was forced to flee the citadel in shame and was succeeded, so I understand, by a nine-year-old child who immediately ordered him hunted down and put to death. As of our departure, this sentence has yet to be carried out.

  The Lionhead, Lord Paperlung, was transported to the Farside, where he became Lord Protector of a Settlement called Looking Glass. He lives in a modest home overlooking a lake and hunts in the woods for game.

  Ex-Commander Lear’s son continues to recover in Hospital Four. His injuries were actually more serious than any of those in the landing party, except the ones who died of course. He received them undergoing some kind of religious ritual. Humans put an awful lot of effort and thought into their religious beliefs, yet one somebody dies, it perturbs them greatly. I don’t get it. Cats are far more practical. Be a good cat, and when you die, go to someplace better. Be a bad cat, and when you die, you go to someplace worse.

  Pegasus – HospitalFour

  Trajan Lear lay on a healing bed in the Medical Core’s recovery suite, nursing a pair of broken ribs, a bruised spleen, internal bleeding, a fractured wrist, a concussion, and bruises from the base of his spine to his neck. He had slept the better part of a day and a half after being removed from the Flight Deck.