“Hey, you okay, Cuddy?” Kyle asked, looking concerned. He’d returned from the sub-deck and, like Cuddy, his arms were stained with Rufus’s blood.
Almost as quickly as the pain had struck—it vanished. Cuddy stood up and took in a deep breath. “I’m fine, Kyle.” The spaceship had already reached an altitude of several thousand feet.
“Wicked! I can see the whole town below us,” Tony said.
Kyle threw in, “I’m only sorry we didn’t tell Momma … didn’t say goodbye to her.” Cuddy, glancing over at him, said, “We’ll be back.”
“We’d better come back. I didn’t sign up for any one-way trip,” Brian said, still standing at the entrance to the bridge.
No one replied to his comment.
Cuddy only knew he was mentally directed to perform the job at hand—getting the Evermore ever deeper into space. Now, as he became more and more familiar with the board—the controls, the information dump he’d last received from the orb not only became crucial—but relevant. As if inwardly glancing, not dissimilar to looking at a computer’s hard drive file system—Cuddy saw the type of information that had been transmitted in to his brain … into his very DNA. Certainly every aspect of how to pilot this ship as well as what would be required for its maintenance—it was all there.
The others had now moved away from the windows and were staring at the Viewscape display. Looking over his shoulder, he saw them studying both him and the display. He leaned over and pulled on the diagonal ends—increasing the virtual display size—making it easier for them to view. The nearly transparent outline of the Revenge let them know that it too was ascending, and was close by.
“So why don’t you tell us what you’re doing … what’s going on?” Jackie asked.
He wasn’t aware she’d moved, was now standing so close to him. He smelled the faint scent of strawberries—probably from the shampoo she used.
“I’m being guided by the orb, doing what it instructs me to do.”
“You mean … like mentally … psychically?” Brian sneered cynically. He stepped up close behind Jackie, cupping his hands on her shoulders. A possessive gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Cuddy.
“Yes, the orb mentally … speaks to me; provides me with mental images. That sort of thing.”
“That’s impossible. Take it from me. I’m a doctor … a neurosurgeon, to be more specific. I’m sorry, big guy, but humans simply aren’t capable of doing something like that.”
Jackie shrugged Brian’s hands away from her shoulders and glared up at him. “Well, maybe he’s not entirely just human … did you ever consider that? There’s a lot you don’t know, Brian. Being a pompous ass is only going to alienate you more from everyone here.”
Brian raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, easy does it, there … just getting the lay of the land around here.”
Cuddy, scanning the Viewscape, noted multiple icons now making their way off the surface, heading toward the Evermore. “That’s not good. Incoming missiles! Best everyone sit down and strap in.” Cuddy then looked over to Kyle and said, “Um … can you get everyone out of the bridge … have them strap in out there? I need to concentrate.”
“Sure.” As Cuddy watched Kyle usher everyone off the bridge, he knew they weren’t really interfering with his concentration—except for Brian, who was already getting under his skin. He really didn’t like the guy.
The orb again was communicating within his mind.
Cuddy … I need to break away for a while. It seems my makeshift repairs to the cloaking system on the Revenge have failed. Added to that, the one remaining functioning drive is becoming problematic, as well. My sensors tell me there are numerous incoming projectiles … missiles … coming from various strategic land, sea, and air locations around the planet. It’s a full-on attack, Cuddy. They have locked on to this spacecraft. Unfortunately, without functioning shields, I now need to separate from the Evermore and fend off the attack on my own. Fortunately, the Evermore is fully functional; its shields and propulsion readings are optimal. Cuddy, you have everything you need to progress to the upper atmosphere then beyond into distant space. Increase your rate of ascent, Cuddy … do that now!
Before Cuddy could object, the Revenge was banking away. He tried reaching out to the orb with his mind but knew the physical distance apart was already too great. He suddenly felt alone and vulnerable, but doing as the orb instructed, he increased their rate of ascent. His eyes stayed locked onto the Viewscape display, helplessly watching as numerous missiles approached the Revenge. The Howsh ship took decisive evasive action—spinning off to the right then reversing its direction—then going into a spiraling downward roll. The Revenge next fired off its plasma weapons and two missiles exploded simultaneously.
“There’s … too many!”
Cuddy glanced back over his shoulder to see Kyle standing there. He’d come back in.
“Can’t we do something? He’s being overwhelmed,” Kyle groaned.
“I don’t think so. The Evermore doesn’t have weapons on board … the Pashier were pacifists,” Cuddy told him. Like his brother, he felt increasingly powerless.
Cuddy glanced out the window and noticed the surrounding darkening blue of the upper atmosphere. Soon they would be reaching outer space.
Now staring at the Viewscape with relief, they saw that the orb was getting the upper hand with the ongoing air battle. One after another, all of the incoming missiles were being destroyed.
“Get ’em … get ’em all!” Kyle cheered.
Cuddy smiled at his brother’s enthusiasm and also began to breathe a little easier. Noting they’d now entered space, he brought the ship into a low orbit.
“Um … what’s that, Cuddy?” Kyle asked.
Cuddy turned back to the Viewscape display—something was approaching the Revenge.
“Why doesn’t the orb just get away from there?” Kyle questioned.
“That Howsh ship’s got mechanical issues. The orb mentioned its one working drive was having problems,” Cuddy said.
It was now apparent that the object approaching the Revenge was not a singular thing but a huge foray of multiple missiles—certainly no less than one hundred.
Cuddy’s stomach sank. He whispered, “Come on, orb … just get away from them … do something!” He was aware the others had quietly crept back onto the bridge and were silently watching the Revenge too. No longer maneuvering this way and that, the ship no longer deployed countless plasma bolts to protect itself either. As the first incoming missiles descended upon their intended target, a bright flash at the center of the display indicated a tremendous explosion had occurred. And then nothing could be seen on the display. No missiles … and no Howsh spacecraft. The Revenge had been destroyed, the orb now … gone.
Cuddy slowly turned and stared at all the other stunned faces. No one spoke.
Finally, Brian broke the silence. “The flying robot thing … it’s destroyed, right?”
Cuddy nodded.
“And it was the intelligence behind everything, what you were trying to do … right?”
When no one uttered a word, Brian added, “You need to turn back. You do know that, don’t you? Take us back to the ranch and, with luck, nobody’s jacked with my car yet.”
“You’re a major tool, do you know that?” Tony said, leering at him.
“Look … you may not like what I’m saying, but at some level you know it’s true. I’m the oldest one here and have the most real-life experience. I make life-altering decisions on a daily basis, so it’s time now you let a grownup make the big decisions. I’m telling you, take us back to Earth.”
Cuddy shifted his eyes toward Jackie. Still focused on Brain, she seemed to be considering what he was saying, and he could see indecision in her eyes.
When Cuddy spoke, his words were barely audible. “I’m taking this ship to Primara. Neither you, nor anyone else, will get in my way of doing that. You chose to come along so you’re going to have to deal wi
th it. Now get off my bridge … all of you!” Cuddy turned his back on Jackie and studied the console. He wondered if the orb was right—that possibly he already knew what was necessary for them to reach Primara. He honestly didn’t know. What he did know was that he already felt the orb’s loss. His thoughts turned to another … how can I do this alone, Tow?
Chapter 40
His official title was Lorgue Prime Eminence Norsh—but the standard, less formal way to address him was simply Lorgue Norsh. Currently, he was making his way forward, toward the Pintial’s command center. Normally, he’d stop and converse with officers and crewmembers along the way, but not today. Norsh was in a hurry, and also in a foul mood. He fumed thinking about the news he’d received only that morning—an interstellar dispatch, coming from a distant quadrant that typically was of little concern to the Howsh.
Lorgue Norsh entered the Howsh Marauder-Class star fighter’s command center. Like the spacecraft itself, the command center was voluminous. Norsh strode toward the principal dais—a raised section at the center of the command center—where only the most senior officers were permitted to enter. Norsh spotted the officer he was looking for off to the right of the dais—Sub-Forgue Molth, his second-in-command.
There were nearly sixty command-center deck officers present, and they nervously watched their principal commander make his way toward his first officer. Lorgue Norsh was an impressive sight. Like all those on board this Marauder-Class vessel, he appeared well manicured. His golden-colored body fur was trimmed down to a quarter of an inch in length. He wore a smart white uniform with an angled crimson sash that had row after row of ornate metals and ribbons—each symbolic of some past act of either valor or bravery in battle. Although Lorgue Norsh’s bearlike snout had turned silver, it was the only evidence of his advancing years. There was none other on board the Pintial, young or old, who could match the commanding officer’s capacity for close-quarter combat.
“Sub-Forgue Molth!” he said.
The first officer turned as the Howsh commander strode toward him. “Yes, Lorgue Norsh.” The lowly deck officer who had been conversing with Sub-Forgue Molth, lowered his head in submission and backed away.
Norsh towered over the smaller, slighter, Molth. Staring down at him, Norsh tried not to stare at a pinkish, mole-like growth between the Howsh officer’s eyes. Like a third unblinking eye, it had been growing—its overall mass ever-expanding over the past year. He was ready to order Molth to deal with it; get it removed or die trying. It was that distracting. That revolting.
“Who ordered the three scout ships into the Sol System? More importantly, who gave them permission to enter a primitive’s world’s atmosphere? To actually land there?” Norsh asked.
Sub-Forgue Molth exhibited the appropriate expression of confusion, mixed with dismay, and replied, “Scout vessels are intended for pursuit only … certainly not engagement.”
Molth was spouting the obvious and Norsh didn’t buy his act. He already knew that Molth had given the interstellar order. The real question was why? Crews manning the many thousands of Scout-Class vessels, dispatched throughout the galaxy, were one step above barbarians. Norsh had determined earlier that the filthy, ghastly beasts weren’t actually Howsh, but more like the cave dwellers seen on many of the worlds he’d come across over the decades. The ingrates defecated indiscriminately—anytime—anywhere! No, they didn’t have the necessary genetic makeup to string two thoughts together, let alone make war with other life forms. Clearly, Howsh Scout-Class vessels were good for one thing only—menial pursuit duties, and they were required to report back. Scout ships and their crews were disposable—trash.
“Unfortunately, their action will reflect poorly on my jurisdictional command. Something our High Eminence will have little tolerance for.”
Sub-Forgue Molth said, “I am immensely sorry, Lorgue Norsh … but there may be a silver lining to this turn of events.”
Norsh grunted, waiting for him to continue.
“We are already en-route to Primara. Destruction of that foul world is a forgone conclusion. What we do know is that the elusive Pashier spacecraft, the Evermore, has returned to space—is back on course, heading toward Primara. We will easily accomplish what three ineffectual Scout ships could not. Primara and the Evermore will soon come to their appropriate inevitable end—two problems solved.”
Lorgue Norsh thought about that. Sub-Forgue Molth was conveniently omitting the fact that the small fleet of Howsh Scouts, over the span of several years, had been decimated by an equal-sized fleet of fleeing Pashier ships, ones that were, for the most part, defenseless. Decimated not by reciprocal acts of violence, but by other means—most of which seemed to have stemmed from telekinetic acts—resulting in mechanical sabotage, often leaving Howsh ships adrift in space. The last Pashier—the one called Tow—had been far more resourceful than ever thought possible. Especially being the product of an inferior race. It was generally assumed that the heritage pod too had survived, which was unacceptable. Admirable as it was that Tow managed to evade the Scout ships over vast distances of the cosmos. Yes, Tow was certainly worthy of admiration, but it didn’t change the fact that his destiny would follow that of his world, Mahli, and his fellow Pashier compatriots, in destruction and death.
Lorgue Norsh and Sub-Forgue Molth walked together toward available officer seating in the principal dais area. Norsh sat down first and surveyed the surrounding Pintial’s command center.
Irritably, he gestured for Molth to sit. “There can be no more losses. Our High Eminence has little tolerance for ineptitude. We can only hope he has not learned of the latest series of blunders. Being in his good favor is not a given.”
“Lorgue Norsh, you command the most powerful warships within known space. Ten Marauder-Class fighters are a far cry from fifteen inconsequential little Scouts. I will not displease you again, Lorgue—”
“Fine. We will split the fleet. Five stealth Marauders will stay back and await the Evermore, traveling along its current course. You will command those ships, Sub-Forgue Molth. Perhaps an opportunity for redemption, yes?”
“Thank you, Lorgue. Yes … the Evermore will finally be destroyed. Once and for all we will finally put an end to the Pashier.”
Norsh, glancing again at his subordinate, caught him nervously picking at his disgusting growth. Grimacing, he looked away and said, “Go now and make the preparations for what I have outlined. We will reunite the fleet at Primara.”
Norsh watched as his second-in-command quickly headed for the Command center’s exit. As revolting as the Howsh first officer was in person, one-on-one, he was an adequate commander, both driven and ruthless. Two admirable qualities.
Chapter 41
Cuddy sat at the console, scanning the myriad of buttons and switches across the board. He knew what each was used for—its purpose—as well as how to configure it. Apparently, the orb’s final mental download still had a far-reaching effect on him.
He entered in the navigational coordinates to their final destination—Primara—knowing much work would need doing over subsequent weeks. Requirements that went far beyond what Cuddy felt capable of completing on his own. The Evermore’s five independent systems were autonomous to a certain degree, but the vessel was designed to operate best with a supervising AI interface—an AI orb. As part of his mental download, Cuddy now possessed the basic knowledge of where to find the necessary parts within the hold and how to initialize a new AI orb. He was excited to get started on the project. To have something creative to do—to think about—other than of Rufus and the orb, now gone, or how much he was missing Momma. Or how annoying Brian was steadily becoming, by the minute.
Cuddy heard Brian’s grating voice within the main cabin, complaining again about one thing or another. Cuddy rose from his seat to stare outside into the darkness before him. Space seemed so cold and impersonal. Several hours had passed since they’d left Earth, and they were quickly making their way through the solar system.
“Hey … how you holding up?”
Cuddy spun around. Jackie, standing at the entrance to the bridge, then asked him, “You get us on course, and all that?”
“I think so. Best I can figure out, anyway. I need to assemble another AI orb. That’ll give me a bit more reassurance.”
“I think I saw the parts for them down in the first hold … when we were working on the propulsion system.”
Cuddy nodded.
“So … you up for giving everyone a quick tour? I’d do it, but I’m not as familiar with the ship as you are,” Jackie said, smiling.
Cuddy was pretty sure the request had come from Brian. “Yeah … sure, I can do that.” As he approached her, she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“What was that for?”
“Rufus … mostly, I guess.”
He stepped past her and entered the main cabin, where Kyle and Tony were seated. Their feet were up, and they were talking and laughing about something. Cuddy didn’t see Brian, at first, then saw him aft, coming up the passageway.
“Well … okay … I guess you figured out this is the Evermore’s main cabin.” Cuddy said, inwardly checking his memories to see if there was anything to add concerning this section of the ship. There was! “There’s seating in here for about ten people and an entertainment feature too.” He strode over to a round, padded thing that looked somewhat like a big donut, which Kyle and Tony were using to prop their feet up on. He gestured for them to remove their feet and placed an open palm on its top surface. A holographic-type display suddenly appeared, emanating from the donut’s open area.
“As you can see, you can view the display from anywhere in the compartment. What you’re looking at now is the main menu. I don’t really know much about what’s available to watch, or see, so you’ll have to play with it. It will respond to your voice prompts although that’s not how the Pashier typically used it.”
The Simpleton: An Alien Encounter Page 21
