by S V Hurn
Henry attempted to break the ice. “Our friend Magnus here thinks tea is a cure for everything.”
Dorathy looked from face to face and locked eyes with each of them before accepting her hot tea. She sipped it slowly, an odd, unfamiliar taste lingering on her tongue, her senses trying to ascertain her current circumstances. “Where is this place? Where am I? What happened to me?”
Henry glanced at Brenda for help, but she only nodded back for him to continue. “You may find this hard to absorb. Tell me, what is the last thing you remember?”
Dorathy struggled to regain her memory. She looked around in hopes that something looked familiar. Her eyes came to rest on the cryotube that was resting quietly in the back corner of the med lab. Her eyes grew wide as memories started to flood in. “That, I built that.”
“Good,” Henry said in a comforting voice. A few seconds later Dorathy reached up to her head, but the moment was gone. “I can’t remember.”
Impatient as usual, Brenda spoke up, “Honey, you died. You died and you were cryogenically frozen for a long trip into the unknown. Can you remember any of that?”
Dorathy wore a blank stare, but slowly a shimmer of light broke through. “That was my project . . . my husband Alex Mason . . . I was just with him.”
“Yes, you died, and he was with you,” Brenda was saying.
Dorathy shook her head. “No, I was just with him, just a moment ago . . . we were on the other side. I died.” She said, her voice cracking as reality sunk in.
The group looked at one another and with that statement they were reminded of their mission. That the place existed and wasn’t just a myth or legend. It was real and tangible and was waiting for them to discover it.
Dorathy put her cup down and ran her fingers through her damp hair to find it had been cut unevenly to her chin. “Please help me up.”
Brenda helped her to her feet, the floor reacting to the touch of her bare feet. Dorathy looked down at the strange sensation. Brenda grabbed some coveralls from an adjoining shelf and held them out. “Here, put these on.” Brenda helped her dress and walked her over to the cryotube.
Dorathy stared down at her creation, memories flooding in, and spoke, “You revived me . . . how far did I come? Who are you?”
“Well girlfriend, that is a long story.”
Dorathy spread her hands over the hull of her creation and noted the amount of deterioration from a constant bombardment of solar radiation. “How long was I out there? This place . . . I don’t . . . recognize it.” Dorathy turned her gaze to Brenda’s almost-too-perfect face then back to the three men, “Who are you?”
Henry rolled over a chair and sat straddling it, “My name is Captain Henry Tinman and I’m the commander of this ship. This here is Dr. Brenda Hyden and those two scruffy individuals are mission specialists Dimitri Asania and Magnus Connery. We were sent here on a . . . search mission in the year 2063 . . . approximately twenty Earth years ago. I gotta ask, what the hell took you so long? We had instructions to pick you up, which tells me you left Earth some time before we did, yet you only just arrived.”
Dorathy’s head started to ache and she propped herself up against the cryotube. This convoluted nightmare hadn’t even begun to penetrate her thought processes. “I don’t understand, why are you here—for me?”
Magnus approached with his bright-eyed, utterly positive composure. “My dear, we were sent here to find the origins of human life and you just happen to be the only person who can get us there. You are of great importance to the success of this mission. Our instructions were concise: pick you up and we have ourselves a mission specialist in space warping with certain inherited capabilities.”
Dorathy wanted no part of this madness, “I . . . I just would rather go home.” Somehow, she knew the moment the words came out of her mouth that this crew was not able to grant her that request. She searched each face for support, but there was none to be had.
Henry said, to offer a bit of comfort, “Well, the way I see it, we have a little bit better chance at finding our objective now that you are on board. Then your wish to return home . . . ,” he shrugged.
Dimitri laughed. “You are stuck with us, and we are stuck with you. Hope you are a good cook.”
Henry came to his feet and held out his hand. “Welcome aboard. Speaking of food, it’s probably a good idea to get something in you.” Dorathy reached out her hand and accepted this band of characters as new friends, friends that in a short time would be her family.
They sat for hours after dinner telling Dorathy of the worlds they had encountered and the beings that occupied them. Dimitri talked of his discovery in the un-coded human DNA. “You’re telling me we have coordinates buried in our DNA. Then what you have been looking for is a starting point in a higher reality, a prime reality for humankind?”
Henry shook his head. “No, not just humans . . . we used to think that but now we know that almost every being we have encountered, regardless of its evolutionary track, carries the same code. What we have learned is that the beings that left us the code have also left us a portal. That is our starting point and that is what we and countless others have been looking for.
“The reason we were engineered the way we were, is that it was believed the beings that created us came from a higher existence, a different dimension; the specimen that was found was governed by a whole different type of matter that vibrated at a completely different frequency. A mission to the Antarctic found evidence proving the theory of directed panspermia; the intentional seeding of Earth. What Dimitri discovered buried in the specimen was alien DNA, but it wasn’t alien at all; it was us, it was human, but it predated us by over a billion years!
“Ever since this discovery, scientists have been pushing to find a pattern in our un-coded DNA. The thinking was how could over 99% of our DNA be nothing but junk? There had to be something more to it; to think it had no real purpose other than offering some assistance to the coded DNA was unreasonable. Dimitri’s team thought it seemed to have a pattern that resembled language.”
Dimitri explained, “My team could see there was a pattern and kept trying to decipher it as a hidden message. It was believed to be similar to ancient languages, but finally one day it became clear to me; it wasn’t a cryptic message at all, it was star coordinates!”
Brenda added, “We have traveled into a higher dimension. Everything here vibrates at a completely different frequency than it did at home. Our reality now is the same as from the DNA that seeded our planet.”
Dorathy asked, “And what of the people of Earth? If we came from this DNA, why are we so different?”
“In one word,” Dimitri said, “evolution.”
Dorathy was struggling to absorb and assimilate all the information being presented. She knew only too well her father’s involvement had paved the way for them being here and felt responsible. She knew the Illuminati would stop at nothing to gain control over the planet; this mission would be their turning point for world dominance, a New World Order. Dorathy was saddened by the thought of her father and the brutal way he had been killed. She tried to explain, “The Illuminati were paving the way to control the planet, and eliminate the ones that were de-evolving and threatened an everlasting peace.”
Brenda shook her head. “No, you have it wrong, they weren’t looking to control the planet, they were looking to leave it. The planet was rapidly approaching a breaking point with overpopulation. Advancements in technology had caused a tipping point for our species, and simply put they were planning to jump ship. They felt it’s the path towards evolving past what we are now, to what we can become, to get to that higher existence. We can move one step further up our evolutionary track so that we might become like the beings that created life eons ago. That is their New World Order. Quite literally.”
Dorathy knew she was right, and a sense of grief settled in with the realization of their circumstances. “Our home and everyone on it might be gone by the time we’re done with this
quest . . . it might already be gone.”
The group had mused over that often through the years. Henry spoke. “So we press on, we find this Holy Grail. It’s out there and we are not the only ones looking for it.”
CHAPTER 30
Jobar was a wise old fellow from a flat, swampy world. Its beautiful, sprawling cities covered the landscape with a dazzling display of eco-conscious architecture so as not to detract from the surrounding natural beauty. Slightly larger than our own Earth with denser gravity, this ancient planet and its tropical climate accounted for Jobar’s short stature and the brown leathery skin that had evolved over time into a layer of protective cooling scales. Home for the harvest holiday, his work this season took him four sectors away. Space mining was becoming harder and harder these days with all the regulations being imposed on independent contractors, but he managed to save and put enough aside so that he didn’t have to worry for a while. Jobar was happy to have time off to spend with the friends and family now gathered around him at the dinner table.
Jobar’s brother was an annoying fellow, shorter than most, with opinions that made those around him groan in either disgust or anger. “Tell me, Jobar, how can you afford to take this much time from work? I think your work council contracts reek of favoritism!”
Jobar grew tired of Patsup’s insinuations. “You know what it’s called? It’s called hard work and professionalism. That’s what keeps me busy despite the fact our minister has made it nearly impossible for self-employed miners to make a decent living.” Jobar knew he had just opened a can of worms he did not wish to open, not now, as he hadn’t the strength to talk politics with his brother, especially not on Harvest Day.
Patsup slammed his mug down on the table. “There you go again attacking our minister, and he had a lot on his plate to fix once your warlord got voted out!”
Jobar countered, “Our minister has had plenty time to mend a few loose ends, but instead he’s managed to unravel the whole economy!”
Jobar’s sister stood taller than most at almost a meter and a half, and shouted down at her brothers, “Both of you shut your mouths. I will not have this discussion tonight, not at my table!”
When Mares spoke, everyone listened. She was not to be messed with. It was said she was a whiz in the kitchen and was skilled at wielding a knife. She was known to throw her knives in anger and was a good aim. Mares sat and poured herself another mug of ale. “That’s better. Now eat before it all gets cold.” Her children whispered amongst themselves and started to giggle. Mares gave them a death stare and they straightened up immediately. “Tell me Jobar, have you seen the Travelers lately? I haven’t heard you mention them for a while.”
“Yes I ran across them in the Dorian sector. They were on their way to intercept an addition to their crew, a female who had died and had been cryogenically frozen to preserve. They had instructions to intercept with aid of a tracker.”
Mare’s eyes widened. “A woman from their home planet? It seems so unlikely that they can find a person coming from their past and their part of space, yet they have such difficulties for returning themselves?”
Jobar shook his head. “No Mares, they are unable to reverse their course. They are basically lost and all the star charts I have given them have no resemblance to their home. But what worries me the most is their ship and their safety. There are unscrupulous sorts that would kill to take that ship of theirs.”
Mares rolled her eyes. “Here we go again, and there is nothing wrong with the ship you have . . .”
Jobar cut her off, “No woman. Their ship is unlike any I have seen . . . it is made from the Otherlings!”
All eyes were now wide and fixed on Jobar. He continued and everyone around the table hung on his every word as his tone became almost a whisper, “They say they grew the substance after finding it during a secret expedition. Their planet was seeded by the Otherlings in their part of space, no doubt delivered in a protected shroud, which I think is what they grew their ship from.”
Patsup was skeptical. “You say their ship is from the Otherlings; no one has ever proved their existence, let alone believes a ship can be made from their essence. I call danca dung on the whole thing! I doubt they even exist at all.”
Jobar reached for more ale so he might endure the evening with his narrow-minded, foul brother. “Then tell me why we all have the same code, with the same instructions. Why, for so many countless years, people have been searching for the portal? I, for one, believe the Travelers’ ship will find it.”
Mare’s good friend Shepa, with her scaled skin loose with age, patted Patsup on the back. “I think that what Patsup is saying is the Otherlings sound more like fiction than reality. An ancient myth and a bed-time story for children . . .”
Patsup chimed in, “A waste of time if you ask me.”
Jobar thought, what narrow minds, and said, “Absence of proof is not proof of absence . . . and I see more proof than the lack of.”
Jobar’s best friend Coolie, who had been a miner for as long as he could remember as his father before him, calmly said, “The portal is out there, it is cloaked . . . not visible by detectors; its golden beam only can be seen once you have crossed its path. Many mining ships have traveled through its wake and suffered substantial damage caused by the collision. Metal has been twisted and elongated, bent and fused. Oh, I guarantee it’s out there and from the sounds of it our friends will find it.”
Patsup rolled his eyes and wished the night would end, growing tired from listening to the nonsense.
After everyone had gone home and the table was cleared Jobar sat on his sister’s front deck looking up at the stars. It had been a long time since he had seen them from this vantage point, and he thought how much more there must be out there. His only wish was he could find the ancient portal in his lifetime.
Night after night, Dorathy lay in the small bed in her little cabin. Other times she sat going through the personal items that had been placed in the cryotube with her prior to her launch. Athena and Alex had carefully placed photos and other mementos in the storage compartment of the tube—they even put the small wooden box containing the ashes and some fur from her little dog of years before.
She sat alone with only her thoughts and a handful of belongings. Everything she had and loved was now gone, separated by vast distances and time. She was stricken by the grief of having had her life stripped away. She needed to gather and control her emotions and try to grasp her situation.
She could still hear Alex talking to her, telling her something very important, but his voice was becoming a dim chime of a bell through the mist of her mind. A ship leaving its port for the vastness of the deep oceans. She missed her family; she missed her life. But now she was given a new life with new people and she was planning on grabbing onto it, for she knew her journey had just begun and when she was done her family would still be waiting for her on the other side. She wondered how she was going to get there—would it be through the back door like she and Alex once discussed? Anything seemed possible considering her current circumstances. She sat and wondered why the group had deemed her so important for this mission that they had killed her and then arranged for her retrieval.
She gazed in awe of the technology surrounding her. The ship was a living, breathing creature that had stumped even her ability to comprehend. She lay awake at night, talking to it as if it were a friend, “So tell me, do you run on dark energy, or are you able to just gather up hydrogen particles and somehow use that as fuel? Hmmm . . . somehow I think you totally understand exactly what I’m saying.” She stroked the wall next to her bed and it gave her comfort during the long lonely nights, almost as if a big furry dog was sharing her bed. “I think I’ll name you Ruby . . . think I’ll bring that up with Henry . . . it’s bad luck for a ship not to have a name.”
The next morning Henry was performing his normal exercise routine of martial arts with a holographic image when Dorathy asked, “You want a real partner to work out wit
h, or is the hologram doin’ it for you?”
Henry laughed, “Okay, sure show me your moves.”
Dorathy stretched while remembering her time spent training in the Far East. She went after him with a couple of approaches that he successfully blocked. She smiled and figured that since Henry was a former Navy Seal, she could probably go at him with everything she had, and he could hold his own. She cracked her neck and said, “I’m a little rusty.” At that moment she attacked, and Henry found himself on his back smiling, “Ah, so that’s how it is.”
Dorathy bit her lip. “Sorry.” She offered him a hand up that he took and put her on her knees in the process. She smiled. “I should have seen that coming!”
They continued, the difficulty level increasing with each blow. Henry was not accustomed to sparring with a woman. Normally he and Magnus were sparring buddies, so he had to be careful not to inflict injury on Dorathy. Just then, she kicked him square in the mouth and his lip began to bleed. “Oh crap, I’m sorry!”
“Nope, don’t apologize. I wasn’t paying attention and out there, like the place we’re going, you’ve got to be alert or you can die really quick!”
“Speaking of that, I want to go out there with you guys. I don’t want to stay in the ship.”
Henry refused her request. “Those things are right bastards, like some kind of prehistoric- looking, thorny-winged apes with huge sharp teeth and claws to match.”
She hesitated a moment. “Why don’t you shoot a couple of them—won’t that scare them away?”
Henry shook his head. “Nope, just seems to piss them off and they come back with reinforcements.”
“So, these are intelligent beings?”
“Oh yes, highly intelligent, on a fast evolutionary track!”
“And you have to go down there to gather more of those poppies?” She queried, pointing to a container in cold storage.
“Yes. We learned years ago that the demand is ever growing, and the price per kilo has skyrocketed. We were given a tip about this planet years ago when we came to the aid of a mining ship in distress. When we run low, we come back to restock so we have something to trade for goods and supplies. We’ve found a few much smaller sources that are slowly being tapped out, but this planet has an abundance of high-grade product—albeit with the downside of having to deal with these mean bastards flying around.”
