Chapter 2
Tow awoke just before dawn. Three times during the night, he’d awakened as the AI’s proximity sensors went off—alerting him that various creatures had approached the Evermore. Cross-referencing them, they were catalogued as a coyote, a brown bear, and something called a fox. After the third such alert, Tow instructed the AI orb that unless it was one of the indigenous savages, creeping up around them, or the Howsh, or that another advanced spacecraft was en route … not to wake him up again.
Now, yawning, he swung his legs over the side of his berth, placing a limited amount of weight on his injured leg. It hurt, but no more so than it did the night before. The pain seemed manageable, until it once again spasmed.
The AI orb hovered into view within the berth’s narrow compartment.
“What is it, orb?” Tow asked.
“I apologize, Captain; I have had to conduct a hard reset to each one of the Evermore’s systems. Apparently, during the last spatial attack, the Howsh were in close enough proximity to transmit a nearly undetectable systems-level virus.”
Tow closed his eyes and shook his head. The Evermore was a complex myriad of numerous interconnecting intelligence systems. No single system was capable of bringing down the whole ship. The AI orb interconnected with each of the ship’s systems, while internal firewalls kept the orb guarded from that very issue.
“Captain … two systems have been cleared and have come back online, but others are infected. Infected beyond repair. They have been wiped and are in the process of reloading from backups. After that, they must be rebuilt to the latest configuration modifications.”
“And the wellness chamber?”
“Offline. And like the propulsion system, physical repairs will still be needed to get the chamber up and running. I know you are in pain, Captain. I have made that system’s rebuild the highest priority.”
“I was going to get working on repairs first thing this morning, starting with the chamber. When will all systems be ready to come back online?”
“I apologize, Captain Tow. In my estimation, it will take sixty-three hours and twenty-two minutes. I can assist you with manual repairs, if you would like.”
“Sixty-three hours! We don’t have that kind of time. What were you thinking? And without getting my permission first!”
“There really was no alternative, Captain.”
Tow knew the orb was probably right, but he needed to vent his frustration. “What is the current status with the Howsh?”
“Thus far, they have not entered this planetary system. That is hopeful … yes?”
Annoyed, Tow shrugged, and watched the orb leave the compartment.
So … repairs will have to wait, he thought, looking around the claustrophobic space. For now—for his own sanity’s sake, he needed off this ship.
* * *
Hobbling down the extended gangway, Tow experienced some of Earth’s peculiarities for the first time. Breathing in the fresh atmosphere, he filled his lungs to capacity—then exhaled slowly. Immediately, an abundance of strange smells—some pleasant and others beyond disgusting—confronted his senses. Also, there was a larger insectile presence than he would prefer. Waving away an encircling swarm of annoying gnats, he used his telekinetic powers to thrust them upward—into the treetops.
He figured, after examining the exterior of the ship, he would venture no further than a click away; maybe a click and a half, if his leg could handle the exertion. Any farther, and he may lose sensory contact with the AI.
Tow stepped off the gangway onto the planet’s surface. Looking about his feet, he saw an assortment of leaves, pine needles, and tree bark, along with something soft and brown. Hmm … remnants of animal excrement?
The ground was soft, making walking far more comfortable than on the hard decking throughout the spacecraft. He walked into a beam of warm sunlight, shining through the trees, and stopped—appreciating the magnificent sensation. How I’d missed this. He tilted his head back, letting the sun’s radiant energy revitalize his entire being.
Three paces in front of him lay a four-foot-long branch. Tow casually raised an arm, willing the tree limb off the ground and up into his waiting hand. Tightening his grip, he felt the roughness of the wood against his palm, then thrust its woody point down into the soil. Sturdy. It would make a good walking stick. He continued on for several paces before spinning around, one hundred and eighty degrees, to look back over the Evermore in her entirety. He reflected back in time to when he’d first seen her, back on Mahli. He was beyond enamored with her sleek lines—her advanced technological capabilities. Close to two hundred feet long, she was fifty feet across at her widest beam, toward the stern. Enough sleeping berths on board for a crew of fifteen and with two emersion-type energy drives, she was fast. No other Mahli vessel had every exceeded FTL by a factor of twenty.
Inspecting her now, the craft appeared nearly unrecognizable—scarred and charred by too many enemy plasma strikes to count. Her stern and starboard aft sections were in the worst shape. Tow drew closer, until he was within arms’ length of the large starboard thruster cone. One of two, it was twice his height. Using his walking stick for leverage, enhanced by his telekinetic powers, he levitated himself into the orifice. Needing to duck down the farther in he went, he looked deep into the propulsion system’s exhaust. Although he spotted plenty of damage, if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d anticipated. Still, much work needed completion here. He used the end of the stick to pry off a dangling section of scarred metal. Picking it up, he examined it, then flung it out through the wide opening of the thruster.
* * *
He breathed in Earth’s heavy, pine-scented air, while observing nature’s rawness surrounding him. So much life here! Walking off, he slowed down to relieve his aching leg, a click’s distance away from the ship. From his recollection, the edge of the forest should be close by, and he needed to be careful. Being spotted by one of the local savages would not be good. He heard the sound of trickling water and soon came upon a small stream. More like a brook. He lowered to one knee and touched the swirling, cold, liquid surface. Like feeling that ray of sunshine on his face, the sensation here was remarkable too. He cupped his fingers together, bringing up enough water to taste. It was sweet and perfect.
A noise. Tow’s eyes surveyed his surroundings. Perhaps a twig stepped on in the trees ahead. He stayed where he was—not moving—and waited. Movement came off from the side. A brown, fur-covered animal stood between two trees. The AI transmitted the genome of the creature to Tow: a Whitetail deer. He watched as it approached, coming for water. At ten paces out, the deer stopped and raised its head, and they made eye contact. The deer seemed to assess its options: venture on or run to safety. Come on … I won’t hurt you. As the deer took a hesitant step forward, Tow had a realization—this was his first actual contact moment on planet Earth. His cynical side wanted to say, so what? His better self acknowledged the gift and gave thanks. The deer moved to the edge of the brook and lowered its head to drink. Apparently, a glowing white, six-foot-tall Pashier didn’t register as something it needed to be afraid of. Slowly, Tow raised a hand. From ten feet away, he mentally reached out and petted the animal’s fur. The deer’s two ears twitched in unison as it stared back at Tow. It lowered its head back into the brook, and Tow gently scratched the animal’s neck—right behind the ears—and smiled. The first time he’d actually smiled in many, many, days.
He waited for the animal to finish drinking and scamper off before moving forward, where bright sunlight filtered in through the trees. At the tree line he stopped. Lowering down to his haunches, Tow studied one of the agricultural habitats he’d flown over the night before. A farm, they called it here, that wasn’t so different from the ancient structures known to exist back on Mahli, many hundreds of years ago.
Close by was a split-rail fence. Gray in color, it looked old—bowed in places from the passage of time and extreme temperatures.
&n
bsp; Tow weighed his options, wanting to see more—but cognizant of the potential dangers. It was all so fascinating. Here was a sister world that hadn’t been ravaged by ill-intentioned enemies. It was like stepping back in time—back into a world the Pashier hadn’t known for generations.
Keeping low, Tow moved along the fence line. Stepping through a grassy, golden-colored meadow, which reached high above his knees, he approached a tall structure as gray and bowed as the fence surrounding it. Ragged openings pierced the roof. A wide door had been pulled open and Tow peered into the darkened space. There was a strong smell of excrement—not overly unpleasant—and the aroma of dried grasses—hay. Once he dared venture within he realized he was not alone. A loud snort froze Tow right where he stood, as two pointed ears bobbed up and down over a tall wooden wall. His query to the AI told him he’d found a creature called a horse. Tow came around the stall to its opening and took in the giant, four-legged black beast. He then learned that horses were herbivores, so there would be no attempt to eat him. Fascinating.
New sounds, off in the distance, dragged his attention away from the horse and the barn. Savages!
* * *
Tow discovered another door, narrower, at the opposite end of the barn and it too was open. From beyond it, the savages’ voices emanated. He looked back the way he’d come—well aware he’d already pushed the boundaries of what was safe—what was prudent. He decided to quickly peek out to see what, or who, was out there before heading back.
Tow veered away from the wide rectangular band of sunlight, streaming in from the outside, and approached the door’s opening along the back wall. He peered, with one eye, around the corner, noting another structure. He guessed it was some kind of domicile. Smaller than the barn, and lower to the ground, it too was made of timber, just like the barn. Rickety—it looked like it could be pushed over in a strong breeze. Tow’s eyes widened when he saw them together—two of Earth’s savages conversing. Strange looking, they also wore odd-shaped garments.
Then another four-legged creature strode into view. Tow was instantly informed it was called a dog. He tilted his head and listened, trying to understand the primitive speech spoken by both savages. It took several minutes to construct a working vocabulary database to draw from. Apparently, theirs was a familial relationship—a mother and son.
Tow’s breath caught in his chest as the searing pain in his leg returned. A new series of spasms produced unintentional gasps and the dog’s ears perked up. The dog was staring directly at him.
Chapter 3
“Cuddy … stop squirming around. These are sharp,” she scolded, holding the scissors in front of his face. “I nearly trimmed off the tip of your ear.”
“Sorry, Momma.”
Repositioning herself, she looked him over—from one side of his head to the other. “Well … it’s not even all around this time.”
“That’s okay, Momma.”
“Got to cut the bangs, so stay put in that chair!”
As Momma hurried off, Cuddy heard the screen door squeal open, then, just as quickly, slam shut against the door jam. He looked at Rufus, lying outside in the dirt, and smiled. Making a kissing noise with his lips, he tried to get the dog’s attention. But Rufus seemed more interested in something out in the barn. Cuddy wanted to play with the dog. He hated getting his hair trimmed. Looking down on the porch decking, he noted the accumulation of loose hair lying by his feet.
The screen door opened again before slamming back shut. When Momma placed a heavy bowl over his head, he smiled. He kinda liked this part. Sort of like wearing a football helmet, though he wasn’t allowed to play football. Not with his injury.
“Don’t move! Not even one little bit … okay, Cuddy?”
Cuddy nodded, rocking the bowl atop his head up and down, smiling with mischief. Momma rolled her eyes at his little prank, just like the last time … and the time before that.
He stared through the thin strands of hair—now pressed flat over his eyes—as Momma started to snip, beginning at his left ear then scissoring across to the front. He watched the strands fall away as she scissored over toward his right ear.
“Are you done, Momma?”
“No. Doing the back now.”
He felt the pressure of her hand atop the bowl—and the snip snip snip of the scissors behind his head. Then, removing the bowl from his head, her hand brushed some loose hair from his shoulders.
“Good for another month! Go play. Stay close … lunch soon.”
“Okay, Momma.” Cuddy scurried to his feet and jumped off the wood-planked porch. Startled, Rufus yipped. With his tail tucked low between his legs, he scooted away. Cuddy, grabbing him, tackled the eighty-five-pound yellow lab and flipped him over onto his back. The wiggling dog twisted his head back, attempting to lick Cuddy’s face.
* * *
Momma stood in the cool shadows—obscured behind the grimy mesh of the screen door. She watched the boy play with his idiot dog. A bittersweet scene. Her chest swelled—nary another morsel of love would find any room in her already overfilled heart. It wouldn’t be possible. A part of her felt guilty, as well as unfathomably lucky; fortunate that her boy would never leave her. Boy! She inwardly scoffed at what that word implied. Cuddy was nineteen years old, six foot three, and near ’bouts two hundred pounds. But he would always be seven—have a young child’s mind in a grown man’s body.
The kitchen wall phone began to ring. Startled, Momma’s back turned rigid. Another bill collector? She continued to watch her youngest son for another three rings before breaking away and picking up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello, this is the Whiteville Correctional Facility. Will you accept a phone call from inmate Kyle Perkins?”
Momma hesitated, then said, “Yes … yes, of course I will.” She used her fingers to press down on an errant flap of faded wallpaper peeling up from the wall.
She listened to the canned message, explaining that all calls—into and out of the prison—were being recorded. That first year, she’d gone to the penitentiary every other month to see Kyle and found it difficult. He appreciated her visits, but Momma found it emotionally draining. Also, she could ill afford the gas expense for those two-hundred-mile round trips. She glanced at the center of the kitchen table where a stack of opened, unpaid, utility bills occupied the space. Now guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders—she hadn’t seen her eldest son in nearly five months.
“Momma? Are you there?”
“I’m here, son. It’s good to hear your voice. Are you doing okay? I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see—”
Kyle cut her off, “Momma … that’s okay! Look, I’m getting out of here.”
“Getting out?”
“Early parole. Good behavior and the place is way overcrowded.”
“That’s … wonderful, Kyle. When will—”
“Tomorrow. I’m out tomorrow. I’ve got a ride. No need to make the drive all the way up here.”
“That’s fine, dear. Then we’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah … tomorrow. Momma? How’s Cuddy?”
“Cuddy’s the same as he’s always been. He’ll be happy to see you.”
“Okay … well, see you tomorrow, Momma.”
“Goodbye, son.” Momma hung up the phone, continuing to stare at it for several seconds. She should be happy. Kyle’s coming home would make things easier. He’d be able to help her around the ranch, maybe get a job. They certainly could use the money. But still, she was more concerned than happy. Trouble followed Kyle—it always had.
She contemplated telling Cuddy the news, but getting his hopes up, then later dashing them—like times before—wouldn’t be fair to him. This wasn’t the first time he’d called to say he was being released early and was coming home. No … she’d believe it when she saw him.
She walked back into the foyer and looked out through the screen door. Cuddy was still playing with his senseless dog. To Cuddy, the world revolved around his older brother Kyle. Two ye
ars his senior, Kyle hadn’t been home in a year and a half. Momma’s expression changed. Kyle caused it—that accident in the barn. The three kids were roughhousing—Kyle, Cuddy, and Jackie. A pretty one … that Jackie; she was now away at college. Cuddy’s age, she was his protector growing up—far more so than Kyle. Their relationship changed over the years, as of course it would; from childhood friends to something else. A shame, Momma thought, diverting her attention away from such possibilities; the ones that might have been—but would never be.
Opening the screen door, she peeked her head out. “You’re getting filthy rolling around out there! Did you forget what I asked you to do this morning?”
Cuddy stopped wrestling with the dog and sat up. Dirt clung to his cheeks where the dog had licked him. “This morning?”
She waited.
Cuddy puffed out his cheeks and made a bewildered expression.
“The store …”
“Oh yeah … I’m supposed to bring back flour. Or was it sugar?”
“Both. That is if you want me to make someone’s favorite dessert.”
“Cobbler?”
“Uh huh … peach,” she added.
Cuddy released his grip on the dog’s tail and climbed to his feet.
“Dust those dungarees off before coming inside. And that dog stays outside!”
She let the screen door close and watched him do as told, then returned to the kitchen. Opening up the first cupboard on the right, she double-checked the shelves. She had plenty of canned Del Monte peaches stacked up there. She next located a bottle of McCormick’s ground cinnamon and shook it. Only a quarter of an inch of the brick-colored granules remained. Needing more of that as well, she added it onto the list for the grocer. Cuddy wouldn’t remember the flour or the sugar—much less the cinnamon.
The Simpleton: An Alien Encounter Page 2
