“What do we do about Spilor?” Jackie asked, unenthusiastically.
“I guess we take that bot back to the ship. Maybe the robot can somehow be revived.”
“We’ll check Spilor out,” Kyle said. “Carry it, if we need to.”
“There can’t be that much heft to the thing,” Tony added.
Cuddy, noting that Marzon was signaling to get his attention, gave Haffan a wink. She smiled at him conspiratorially.
As Cuddy approached the soldiers, he watched as they unslung their weapons—the muzzles pointing at his chest. At four paces out, one of the Howsh said, “Far enough, human.”
Cuddy stopped, assessing the designated leader of the group. He looked identical to the other seven, with one distinction: Most of his left ear was pure white in color. Cuddy got right down to it. “I’m assuming that you will be taking the scrolls?”
“Those are our orders. We are prepared to fight for them, human.”
“No fight necessary. Those aren’t the ones we came for, anyway. They’re worthless.”
The only reaction from the one with the white ear was an almost indistinguishable flinching of his snout muscles, which Cuddy noticed. “There are no other scrolls in that vault,” the Howsh said.
“Did you look up higher, overhead, at the storage locker in the rafters? Anyway…we’ll bid you farewell now. Marzon, can you help me collect the other scrolls above the vault. With your height, you should be able to reach the locker. And let’s make sure we get all twenty.”
“Halt!” White ear raised his energy weapon. Over his shoulder, he barked off a series of orders and the seven soldiers hurried into the vault. “We will check to see if there is a higher-up locker. If so, and there are other scrolls there, then they will be coming with us.”
Cuddy shrugged—appearing unconcerned. As the last of the seven Howsh disappeared into the vault, Cuddy, using TK, swung the big vault door closed. He heard its internal gears spin, the latching mechanism engage.
The white-eared Howsh ran for the door and frantically tried to open it. Enraged, he spun around, pointing his weapon at Cuddy. “Open the vault! Do so now or I will shoot!”
“You could do that…but then who will open the vault? You?”
The lone Howsh soldier glanced about the cavern then realized both Haffan and Jackie were gone. He also noticed all nine scrolls were gone—no longer strewn around on the ground.
“The way I see it, you have two choices here. One, you can shoot me, and the rest of us, and return to your ship…the Dubon. Of course, you’ll then have to explain to the Howsh high council how you came to be duped. Not only losing all nine scrolls, but seven of their finest Howsh soldiers in the process.”
White ear glared at Cuddy, hatred in his eyes, but waited to hear option two.
“Or you can lay down your weapon, trusting that your fellow soldiers will be released,” Cuddy said.
“Released when?”
“As soon as we complete our business here. In fact, you can help to speed things along. The faster we get going, the sooner your soldiers will be freed.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You can, because I am honest,” Cuddy said with conviction.
“And the scrolls?”
From across the caverns, Tony interjected, “Do you really need to ask, dude?”
White ear fumed silently, contemplating his options. Cuddy thought he could hear, just barely, yelling coming from behind the locked vault door.
As the Howsh soldier bent down and placed his energy rifle on the ground, he said, “This isn’t over.”
Marzon retrieved the weapon then pointed it at the enraged Howsh.
Cuddy yelled, “Jackie! Haffan! Come on out!”
Tony and Kyle somehow managed to get Spilor vertical. The robot, standing on its own; was now in the process of cycling through a myriad of projected facial expressions. Jackie, then Haffan, quickly reentered the cavern, each holding an armful of scrolls.
Tony asked, “What now, boss…back to the ship?”
“Still one more thing to do. There’s a heritage pod needing transporting out of here.”
Chapter 36
For the fourth, nope, fifth time in the last hour, Cuddy stopped cold in his tracks. Fighting against the inner distraction, growing within him. What is going on with me?
The already embattled heritage pod, now ascending, was several feet off the floor. Using telekinesis, Cuddy maneuvered it around obstacles—including clusters of mannequins and mock dwellings—within both the Pashier and Howsh Historical Halls. Again, halfway up the stairs, he was confronted with strange thoughts. Remembrances he was unprepared for; unexpected scenes from the past. Apparently, there were longer-term effects from his sessions with Tow, many weeks ago within the wellness chamber. New effects he was having a difficult time processing. All those earlier years—starting with that fateful day, at age seven, when he fell from the hayloft, up until recently—that he thought were lost. Lost, like grains of sand in the wind. Not so.
“Hey, are you still with us?” Kyle asked.
Cuddy, brought back to the present, realized the pod was listing to the right and about to careen into the banister railing. Righting it, he directed it back toward the middle of the stairs.
“What’s wrong with you?” Kyle asked.
“Nothing,” Cuddy replied, increasing his TK influences over the pod in order to speed things up a bit. Another two minutes and the pod crested the top of the stairs. He let it levitate there as he ascended the last few remaining steps.
The problem was, more and more older memories were coming to him in streams—both abstract sounds and visuals—arriving with little or no reference point. Since those memories weren’t tied to any grounded recollections, there was a dissociative aspect to them. Like those unbidden memories belonged to someone else.
Cuddy, Tony, and Kyle gazed up at the dark-brown underside of the large heritage pod. Cuddy didn’t recall ever seeing a heritage pod from that same perspective before. There was a cool symmetry about it—the way connecting fronds were all bundled together.
With another mental TK push, the heritage pod glided forward. Tony helped guide it—giving the pod a little nudge, first one way then the other—as they moved away from the open vestibule toward the building’s entrance.
Tony, humor gleaming in his eyes, said, “It’s kinda weird.”
“What’s that?” Kyle asked, walking alongside him.
“That Brian’s in there. Or some part of him is…up in that pod.”
Kyle, giving the pod a wistful look, smiled, but didn’t reply.
In that moment, Cuddy was picturing Kyle, in a different time and place. Younger perhaps by three or four years, Cuddy wasn’t exactly sure. Another new memory was taking shape within his mind. The three of them, Kyle Jackie, and himself, were down at Tamper’s Gorge, which looked more like a small pond than a gorge. Taking turns, they swung out over the murky water below straddling an old knotted rope. It was all about timing. Letting go of the rope at just the right moment to get the farthest distance out into the water. Memories were now coming back to him with amazing clarity—a bombardment of sensations—the feel of brisk water on his skin; the mossy smell off the surrounding trees; the pungent taste of filthy pond water in his mouth. Cuddy was the next one up to swing. Slippery at the water’s edge, he lost his footing, which sent him sprawling into weeds along the shoreline. Only by chance did he glance back to see the others together—treading water—their faces mere inches apart. Their eyes held each other’s gaze. In that moment, Cuddy realized the two loved each other—that his third-wheel presence there wasn’t even noticed. Cuddy then wondered how many times he’d seen them together just like that. Witnessing their deep feelings for one another, only to forget about it, as he always did, minutes later.
In that moment, Cuddy felt betrayed. Betrayed by Kyle, but perhaps more so by Jackie. He wondered how long after the accident that he, the pathetic retard brot
her, lost Jackie to Kyle? Embarrassment warmed his cheeks as anger rose within him. He considered the possibility that the pair were still a couple today. Oh god—had he been too oblivious to even notice? He silently prayed that no more memories—memories of those forgotten years—would return to haunt him. Drip drip drip… another memory posed—just out of reach—water dripping off a pipe. Cuddy didn’t want to think about that. Not now, perhaps never.
Jackie and Haffan were sitting on the floor by a wide span of glass panes, close to where they first entered the building some hours before. Both sat Indian style, speaking in low tones, the scrolls stacked next to them. What Cuddy normally would consider a tender scene, he now averted his eyes. He couldn’t look at Jackie. Not like he once did, prior to his recent recollections.
“We still need to deal with those security bots outside…any ideas about that?”
Kyle asked Cuddy, now lowering the heritage pod until it rested on the floor. “Have you seen Spilor?” Cuddy asked.
“Um, I think Marzon took the robot…somewhere,” Tony said. “Wait, it was to a maintenance depot here in this building. Spilor needed a new leg, or foot…maybe both. Guess there’s robot spare parts available. I wasn’t really listening.”
“Here he comes,” Kyle said.
Sure enough, the eight-foot-tall Howsh, armed again, along with the whisper-thin robot were approaching them from the opposite end of the building. Spilor was no longer limping, nor unsteady on his feet. A good sign—whatever caused the problem was now fixed.
Too impatient to wait for them to trek over, Cuddy yelled, “What do we do about the security drones? We need to get out of here…in one piece.”
“If we make haste, we should be safe,” Spilor said, projecting a fairly normal-looking facial expression. “I have initiated a mandatory maintenance recall.” Studying the large pod, Spilor said, “Oh my, I will open additional glass panes,” then moved across to an access panel on the wall. Within seconds, afternoon breezes billowed through the open glass panels.
“Are we leaving now?” Jackie asked, getting to her feet.
Haffan stood and looked at Cuddy, who had the oddest feeling they had just been talking about him. “Yes, Haffan. Can you open the vault door, again, from here?”
“Think so.” Haffan stared back at the open vestibule and stairway and closed her eyes. Several moments later, she said, “It is done. The furry beasts are free.”
“Then we really do need to hurry. Haffan, stay close to Marzon, okay?”
Haffan nodded. That Cuddy didn’t make the same suggestion to Jackie probably wasn’t lost on Jackie. But he was still mad and found he didn’t really care how she felt.
Cuddy rallied his ability to concentrate and brought the heritage pod up off the ground. With Tony’s help in guiding it, they maneuvered the pod through the opening into the late afternoon heat. Moving outside quickly in pairs—first Kyle and Tony; then Cuddy with the big elevated heritage pod; then Haffan and Marzon; then last, Spilor alongside Jackie, carrying an armful of ancient hide scrolls. In the distance, Cuddy saw the distinctive lines of the Farlight. The vessel was docked on one of five empty circular landing pads within the cloverleaf-shaped formation. It was a beautiful ship. It struck him for the first time—at least until someone took it away from him—that’s my ship.
Both Tony and Kyle ahead were scanning the sky for security bots—so far so good. Again, Spilor had come through. As Cuddy’s intense concentration began to waiver, the pod dipped closer to the ground. He fought against new intruding memories, fighting for his attention. What was it with the pipe? Drip drip drip.
Chapter 37
Halfway to the landing platform, he heard the same telltale buzzing noise he’d heard before—distant security bots were en route.
“Don’t wait for me…get to the ship!” Cuddy yelled to the others, while mentally propelling the heritage pod to soar faster. So fast, he was now running along behind it just to keep up. Ahead he watched the group, now sprinting, reach the Farlight. Yelling over the ever-mounting noise, he shouted, “Oh, and Spilor…I take it there’s a freight access lift somewhere on that ship, right?”
Spilor didn’t answer, disappearing from sight at the top of the aft gangway. Perhaps he thinks that was a rhetorical question, Cuddy mused.
Several moments later, Marzon appeared. Descending the gangway, he clutched an even larger energy weapon than the one he carried before. As the enormous Howsh got his bearings, focusing in the direction of the sound he was hearing—the approaching security bots—he pointed his weapon toward the sky.
As Cuddy approached the ship, he eyed the gangway and reaffirmed the pod would be far too large to fit through that entrance. Then, hearing the high-pitched sounds of hydraulics, he watched as a section of the ship’s belly began descending.
Marzon fired non-stop. The security bots, dodging and weaving, were fully upon them—all around—as Marzon returned fire. Cuddy ducked as their crisscrossing energy fire filled the air. One wayward bolt clipped the upper left side of the heritage pod, igniting several of the ancient fronds.
Cuddy noticed Spilor, now riding the freight lift down. Realizing it was arriving into deadly hellfire, the robot facially projected an expression of sheer terror—almost enough to make Cuddy laugh out loud. Tony and Kyle hastily clamored down the gangway, followed by no fewer than ten armed Howsh crewmembers. Finally!
The sky was ablaze with energy fire as the battle progressed in earnest. Three loud explosions followed in succession and three security bots were eviscerated. But for every bot going down, another Howsh crewmember fell, as well.
While propelling the burning pod forward toward the lift, Cuddy used a hand to make several TK swatting motions above his head, rocketing several attacking security bots high up into the upper atmosphere. But more kept coming. Far more than there were before. At this rate, their odds of survival weren’t looking good. Still thirty feet away from the underbelly lift, Cuddy suddenly felt an incredibly hot searing pain on his upper back. He’d been hit. Knees buckling, down now on all fours, he fell the rest of the way to the ground then experienced a hard, face-planting hit against his left cheek. Incapable of standing, let alone walking, he did manage to send the pod roughly forward, toward the lift’s direction. And then the pod, he realized, was under someone else’s control.
I got this, Cuddy… Haffan communicated telepathically.
Cuddy didn’t know just where, exactly, she was. Perhaps somewhere inside the ship; perhaps looking out a porthole window? His relief was short-lived as Kyle, the next to get hit, was struck by an energy bolt in the groin area. His brother screamed out in agony before he dropped to the ground, curling into a fetal position.
Cuddy glanced back the way they’d come and noted…movement…off in the distance. The Howsh, those recently released by Haffan from the vault, were emerging out the front of the building. Undoubtedly, upon seeing the distant, ongoing battle with the security bots, they kept low. Scurrying off in the direction of one of the other landing pad clusters, they headed toward their ship—the Dubon. Cuddy wondered how long it would be before that ship was airborne and joining in on the attack? He needed to get inside the Farlight.
Placing his hands beneath his chest, as if ready to do a pushup, he tried to raise himself up. Renewed pain in his back brought him to the verge of almost blacking out. Persevering through it, he slowly rose. Through blurry vision, he watched the heritage pod bobble as it was lowered onto the Farlight’s freight lift. The fire was now out and smoldering smoke drifted slowly into the air. Two sets of strong hands suddenly gripped his shoulders and legs and he was lifted off the ground, just as two other Howsh crewmembers lifted up Kyle. The security bots’ attack had not diminished in the slightest. Cuddy could see several more prone Howsh—also exhibiting scorch marks on their bodies from direct weapon fire. But they were moving some—like him, they were injured, not dead. Cuddy passed out as he was being carried into the ship.
* * *
He awoke with a start. He’d been slapped—not once, but twice. Groggily, he muttered, “Stop already!…I’m awake.” He peered up to see who was slapping him. “Jackie?”
“You need to wake up…all the way up!”
“Why…what’s—”
“Apparently, since you’re now the captain of this ship, you have to let the ship’s AI know that the rest of the crew can also pilot the ship in your absence.”
“What do you mean? I don’t under—”
“We’re being attacked, Cuddy, by the Dubon! Say these words…Crew succession parameters resumed.”
Cuddy tried to make some sense of what Jackie was saying. She looked so angry. Frantic, even. Where am I? he wondered. What was happening around him didn’t make sense. Then he recognized the Farlight’s bridge. He could see crewmembers’ legs all around him—some human, some Howsh—as he lay on his side atop the deck.
“Damn it, Cuddy…repeat this now! Crew succession parameters resumed. Say it!”
He could hear distant weaponry fire that definitely was not the small energy blasts from security drones. They were big gun sounds. Then he instantly remembered the Dubon and the Howsh running from the building. In a croak, he ordered, “Crew succession parameters resumed.”
Immediately, the Farlight came alive. Through the decking, Cuddy felt the propulsion system begin to wind up. Overhearing bridge crewmembers, speaking rapidly in excited voices, he heard something about bringing up the shields—engaging weapons.
“We’re going to have to put you back into a wellness chamber,” Jackie said.
“I don’t think so,” he muttered, having already spent more time in a Pashier wellness chamber than was prudent. They weren’t designed for humans. His mind flashed back to Brian, and the grotesque, distorted, effect it had on him. Too much time spent in a wellness chamber could play havoc on their genetics.
He blinked away the fog and Jackie’s face came into focus. Showing deep concern in her eyes, he felt her fingers stroking the side of his head.
The Simpleton QUEST Page 17
