“Sprout?”
“The child Pashier. Don’t play games with me, human…” his voice suddenly faltered. Leaning forward, his eyes now narrowed, he continued, “Not human…at least not entirely. Mutant?”
“For lack of a better word…I suppose I am.”
And so…you understand then, what I am saying to you now, mutant?
Cuddy was momentarily caught off-guard by the Howsh’s use of telepathy. At one time, thousands of years ago in their ancient past, all Howsh shared the same capability. Back when the two cultures were reversed—when the Howsh were the beneficent and enlightened species, and the Pashier little more than savage killers. A secret long buried within the vaults of Calirah—on the nearby planet of Darriall—for over 8,000 years. Why were the planets reversed? What happened to the Howsh that they can’t telepath anymore?
Pashier ancestors, both recent and old, wanting that fact to never become public knowledge, buried the information. Cuddy’s near-perfect memory flashed to a video Tow had made when he was traversing space alone—trying to evade his Howsh pursuers. Made out of something resembling old animal hides, the video showed ancient-looking scrolls. Each scroll was highly detailed, with beautiful diagrams illustrating how the ancient Howsh once appeared. Magnificent beings, with luxurious, shimmering, long hair—like the silky long manes and tails on well-groomed show horses. On one of the scrolls, Cuddy recalled seeing six Howsh, stooped—lowered to one knee—gazing skyward, their arms raised in reverence. Each one was glowing. Another scroll showed a lone, glowing Howsh standing on the shore of a large body of water. With his arms raised high, a giant boulder levitated above the water. Three Pashier savages, concealed in the rocks behind him, held raised spears. Their murderous intent clear…
Cuddy knew hundreds of scrolls had been unearthed in the vaults of Calirah. Pashier elders would not divulge what had been discovered there, so only a few knew the truth—that the Howsh were once great and wondrous beings: benevolent and highly spiritual. They introduced, instructed, primitive Pashier tribes in the ancient rituals of mind and spirit.
Returning to the present, Cuddy raised his chin. Yes…I understand you perfectly. And I hope you understand…that you are not getting anywhere near Haffan. Best you return to your ship now…be airborne and gone while you still can.
Irritation flashed in the old Howsh’s eyes, then was quickly replaced with something else. Surprise…perhaps incredulity?
Cuddy heard the robot communicating again. As it stepped closer to Calph, Cuddy watched the way it moved—like an elderly man with a hesitant gate. The thin leg appendages looked as if they could snap under its own insignificant weight any moment. The robot’s face was more of an artificial projection than having actual features, such as eyes, nose and a mouth.
“I’m not here to harm the one you call Haffan,” Calph said. “On the contrary, she is immensely important. Far more than you could possibly know.”
The Howsh had spoken vocally, in near-perfect English. Cuddy, taken aback by the alien’s surprising ability to throw one curve ball after another, replied, “Let me ask you a question. Why destroy your own ships…your own kind?” Cuddy let his eyes drift toward the smoky remnants of the still-glowing ships’ superstructures.
“Feculence of the cosmos…any association I once had, other than genetic, with the Howsh has long since passed.”
“Then you side with the Pashier?”
Calph sneered at that. “You arrive at childish binary conclusions. This or that…good or bad…Howsh or Pashier. You, yourself, a freakish hybrid of human and Pashier genome, exemplify my point. Rise above all that, Earthling, and you may one day elevate into something more than…the present, poor excuse of organic protoplasm standing before me.”
Cuddy, unsure how to respond to that, said nothing.
“I do not wish to destroy you and your cohorts. Your ship has no weapons; you come before me unarmed. I am not sure if that is a sign of bravery or stupidity. Hand-over Haffan. She will not be harmed.”
“I’d die before I let that happen,” Cuddy responded back flatly. The Calph appraised him wearily. “I am sure you would,” he said. “Commendable.”
Cuddy shrugged. He didn’t need or want the alien’s approval.
“There is one other choice,” Calph offered.
“I’m listening.”
“Come with me. Come with me…and help fulfill the prophesy.”
“Prophesy?”
For the first time, Cuddy saw the old Howsh smile. “The Prophesy of Harkstrong…”
Chapter 18
Seven years earlier…
Once they’d left the cabin—drove away in his American Motors Rambler a half- mile along a winding, two-track lane—Slatch made a right turn onto the main road. He glanced over at the boy, sitting quietly next to him on the bench seat. Slatch recognized so much of the youngster’s father in his eyes.
Everything about the boy was awkward; Cuddy’s bowl-cut bangs needed to be trimmed. He wondered if that was Dotty’s way of telling everyone the boy met that he was a retard. Slatch knew that word wasn’t used anymore. Wasn’t…what did they call that? Oh yeah, politically correct. There were a slew of telltale signs that this eleven/ twelve-year-old kid wasn’t playing with a full deck—like the magic-marker arrow on only one sneaker; the t-shirt worn inside out and put on backwards, and that ridiculous, home-cut hair.
“Where are we going?” the kid asked.
“We talked about that already…twice now.”
The boy nervously fiddled with his sock. “Momma says I’m not supposed to go anywhere without telling her first. Does she know where I’m going?”
“Sure, she does…you’re going to meet your pa.” Slatch rolled down his window and spit tobacco juice into the wind. He felt the boy’s eyes on him as he wrangled a can of chew out of his pocket. Thumbing open the lid, he secured a pinch of the stuff deep along his lower gums.
“Every boy needs his pa. Things a pa can teach you ain’t the same as what your ma teaches you. It’s called balance. You understand what I’m saying?”
“I guess. Um…what’s your name again?”
“Slatch.”
“I don’t remember much about my pa. Will he know who I am?”
“Of course, he will. Word has it, he’s stopped with the boozing. Got his temper under control.”
Cuddy looked back at Slatch with uncomprehending eyes. “Why doesn’t he live with us anymore? I don’t remember much…but I know he doesn’t live with me and Ma and Kyle. Oh…and Rufus.” Cuddy looked into the backseat with sudden alarm. “Where’s Rufus?”
“Dog’s fine. I’m sure he’s home with your ma. Why don’t you quiet down for a spell? We got a ways to go and I need to think.”
* * *
Jackie replaced the receiver back onto the ancient-looking wall-mounted telephone. Her father would arrive to pick her up in about twenty minutes. She turned and stared out the kitchen window. Another cruiser had just joined the mix of police vehicles out front. Sheriff Bone, standing center stage, was making exaggerated hand movements, like a general directing his troops on where to make the next attack. Only this was no military action—it was a full-out search for a missing kid. A special-needs boy she’d left alone in the middle of a field. This was all her fault. Sure, Kyle said it was his doing—since Cuddy was his brother, but she knew different. Cuddy was her best friend. How could she have been so…
“Is he coming?” Kyle asked from the hallway.
Jackie nodded. “On his way.”
The screen door’s hinges screeched, followed by a loud clap, as the door slammed shut. Momma Perkins strode into the kitchen, her face flushed, inhaling long, deliberate, gulps of air.
“What’s happening now, Momma?” Kyle asked.
Joining them at the window, she replied, “They’ve sent a patrol car around to all the neighboring farms. All six of them.”
“He wasn’t there?” Jackie asked.
Momma shook her head
—still wringing an old dishtowel in her hands. “Well…no one was home at one farm. The old McFarland place…Slatch’s farm.” Momma’s brow furrowed—as if something new had occurred to her. She looked from Jackie to Kyle, then asked, “You see anyone working the fields when you were out there?”
“Sheriff already asked me that,” Kyle said.
Jackie considered the question. No one had asked her. “There was puffs of smoke.”
“What do you mean puffs of smoke?” Momma asked.
“It was pretty far off. Only reason I noticed was because I heard a distant sound…could have been a truck.”
“Or a tractor?”
“Yeah…but I didn’t see it. And I know the McFarland farm. I’m not supposed to go anywhere near that place. Not sure why. Weird. My dad just reminded me again the other day.” Jackie watched Momma’s face suddenly lose all color
Chapter 19
Cuddy used telepathy to reach out to Bob. Stay with the ship and watch over Haffan. Instruct the others to join me out here. Surprised, he heard the Howsh grunt under his breath. How is it my telepathic communications are so easily eavesdropped into, even by aliens? Cuddy mused.
Jackie was the first one to join Cuddy’s side. From her expression, she was appraising the alien with a mixture of distaste and fascination. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the robot, standing several paces behind Calph.
Kyle and Tony arrived next. Both, standing somewhat taller than normally, were undoubtedly trying to look bigger and tougher than they actually were. Last to arrive was Brian, acting bored and disinterested, though Cuddy had learned a long time ago they were simply defense mechanisms. Distrust, also an inflated ego, influenced much of Brian’s outer actions.
Cuddy said, “This is Lorgue Supreme Eminence Calph. Apparently, he’s come here for Haffan.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Jackie said with alarm.
“Why’d he torch his own ships?” Tony asked. “Not that I’m complaining or nothing.”
“It seems he no longer associates with the Howsh…or any single race, creed, or doctrine.” For Calph’s benefit, Cuddy pointed to the others. “This is Jackie, those two are Kyle and Tony…that one over there is Brian.”
“And this is Spilor…my assistant,” Calph said, without so much as a gesture toward the spindly-looking robot behind him.
Jackie’s nostrils flared wide. Clearly, she’d just gotten a good whiff of Calph’s stink. She asked him, “So, what do you want with Haffan? How did you even know she was here…here with us?”
“It does not matter how or why I do the things I do. What you should be more concerned with is your own survival.”
Brian gestured toward the Marauder ship. “He has a point. I say we give him the brat and be done with it. Not our circus…not our monkeys.”
Jackie waved off his ridiculous comment. “Again, what do you need her for?”
“Her involvement with the quest was foreseen 8,000 years ago. Without her, it all stops here, Calph said. “Ten years of my life in seclusion. Wasted…all for nothing.”
“What quest?” Cuddy prompted. “Is this related to that Prophesy of Harkstrong - thing you spoke of earlier?”
“Correct. She must accompany me to Calirah—to the vaults there, on the nearby planet of Darriall.”
“What are you after?” Kyle asked.
“It is where ancient scrolls were unearthed decades ago by Pashier elders…the hidden history of both Pashier and Howsh. That…also writings referencing Harkstrong, but only in vague…nonspecific passages.”
“Why do you care, Dude? Eight thousand years ago is a long time. Maybe time to move on. Namaste and all that…“
Calph assessed Tony a few beats before replying. The alien looked tired, in no mood to be answering all their questions. “That, human, is a good question. Why should I care? Do not think I haven’t asked myself that same question a thousand times across a thousand light years of space. The Howsh are intent on nothing short of full extinction of the Pashier race. On the other hand, the Pashier are content to excuse their own past crimes; to let them go unaccounted for. The destiny of the two races are woven together…neither cognizant of the fact that their own survival depends on the continuance of the other. It is so written.”
Kyle said, “Well…we need to get back. Have an important delivery to make. Time is ticking and as interesting as your quest appears…“ he let his words trail off.
Cuddy was reminded that Kyle’s singular driving purpose was to lessen his own guilt in bringing the chicken pox disease to Primara. But he was right. The Pashier were in dire need of the wellness chamber, sitting within the hold on the Evermore’s lower deck.
“As I’ve stated…you are all free to go. My interests lie with the alien child. Bring me Haffan and you can be on your way,” Calph said.
It hit Cuddy in that exact moment that his own future was, somehow, inexplicitly tied to this strange alien being. Perhaps something tied to telepathy or perhaps the last prophetic words spoken to him by Tow: Soon I will travel to the other side of Rah. There I will better assist you and my people….
Cuddy said, “Give me your word…on your honor…that nothing will happen to Haffan.”
“Wait. You can’t be considering handing her over to him!” Jackie said.
“I do…I give you my word…she will be safe.”
“No!” Jackie said, defiantly.
Cuddy turned to Jackie. “I will go with them. The rest of you return to Primara.”
“Sounds good to me,” Brian said.
Jackie pursed her lips, attempting to grasp the quickly unraveling situation. “Are you sure about this, Cuddy? Following such an extreme course is necessary?”
“If feels right.”
Calph said, “As we speak, the imminent demise of Primara is underway. That vessel,” he gestured toward his ship, “the Marauder…belongs to Lorgue Prime Eminence Norsh.”
“We know perfectly well who Norsh is,” Kyle said.
“That is his warship. A prototype, outfitted with new technology, having advanced capabilities…ones that even shield against telekinesis.” Calph looked at Brian. “As powerful as you are, human, your powers are useless against that kind of passive induction shielding.”
Brian merely shrugged in response.
“How did you acquire the ship?” Cuddy asked.
“I stole it.”
No one said anything for several moments.
“The world you call Primara…the Pashier Promised Land…will be attacked soon. An entire fleet of Marauders is being retrofitted with the very same technology. Your Earth may, soon, be next. Perhaps not immediately, but the Howsh are well aware of the ancient writings. The reference to an azure and emerald planet make Earth the obvious one.”
“Why would Earth be of any interest to the Howsh?” Jackie asked.
Her query seemed to amuse Calph. “It isn’t so much Earth…as it is you humans. A secular band of young humans, you are chronicled about in the ancient writings. A band of redeemers, is the more accurate phrasing…a small band of redeemers, dwelling on the third world beyond the yellow star…an azure and emerald planetoid. It is so written that the band of redeemers will deliver upon the soil of Primara a heritage pod and new Pashier life will thence reemerge.”
“So, we’re like famous?” Tony asked. “What else do those ancient writings say about us?”
“More than I can share with you at this time. Let me just say this…as the destinies of the Howsh and the Pashier are closely intertwined, so too are yours. But the final fate of the Pashier, as well as the Howsh, is not set in stone. Nor is yours. The decisions you make today…here and now…may very well have immense repercussions later on. I have been careful to let such decision-making be yours and yours alone.”
“What’s your angle in all this?” Brian asked. “What do you get out of meddling in everyone else’s business?”
“As I said, we’re talking about the fate of two intertwined civili
zations. I simply am a warrior turned scholar. Their ancient past was inscribed onto animal hide scrolls. Or chiseled into stone tablets. So too is their future. The Howsh and Pashier civilizations may have come to their respective ends…a crossroads is now upon us…one where billions of lives lie in the balance. How could I not become involved with such an endeavor? What could possibly hold more importance for me…for anyone?”
“How long before Primara is attacked?” Cuddy asked.
“It could be days…possibly weeks,” Calph said.
“And this quest of yours. How exactly does it help? Stop an attack?” Cuddy asked.
“By the dissemination of knowledge, human. I want you to listen to me carefully…because this is important.”
“I’m listening…” Cuddy said seeing the seriousness on Calph’s face.
“As it presently stands, few Howsh know of their forefathers’ true natural capabilities; that Howsh life forces too can re-cycle over many lifetimes, via heritage pods. Like the Shain Ritual of Awakening, of the Pashier. What you do not know, could not know, is the simple truth…that the Howsh are dying out. Becoming extinct. They are unaware, as a species, of the need to re-cycle their life forces—the only solution to their impending demise as a people. They need to return to their old ways.”
They let that sink in.
“You say certain Howsh higher-ups…elders…know about this,” Jackie said. “That they’ve read the ancient writings too, and know about their commonality with the Pashier, right? I would think they would see it as a good thing; a way to save their species and live on forever having incredible telepathic and telekinetic powers. Why keep it a secret from the masses?”
“The answer is simple,” Calph replied. “Hatred.”
“Hatred?”
“The Howsh elders…those who comprise the Howsh High Council…rule with an unforgiving power. They are a deeply religious…sectarian, bunch. They have followed a doctrine of hate for millennia. Where their differences with the Pashier have been an ongoing, timeless, drumbeat, the mere future prospect of developing a closer bond with their interminable enemy…well…that cannot be allowed.”
The Simpleton QUEST Page 9
