The Otherlings and the Crystal Amulet

by S V Hurn

  They sat in silence, struggling to make their next move. All the pieces were falling into place and Kore was surely waiting for them—somewhere she would be lurking in the dark shadows planning her attack. They would have to stay one move ahead of her if they were to succeed in their mission. The task at hand was overwhelming for Henry, his command they respected, his resolve was teetering on the brink of collapse, wondering how the five of them could rescue their friends—but try they must.

  The silence was interrupted by a faint ping on the control panel. Henry turned his gaze as the ping was interrupting his thoughts and punched a few keys. “Hmm, that’s unusual.”

  Magnus looked and a spark of recognition washed over his face, as he would never question himself again. He said, “The signal has the same configuration as that of Dora’s cryotube.”

  Brenda moved forward to see the data that was coming through on the panel. “My God, you’re right. Now what could that possibly mean?”

  Henry had grown so accustomed to changes and surprises over the years, that dealing with this new bit of information was just another irritant. “Shit, well, let’s go check out whatever it is.”

  The cargo hold of the ship was instantly re-pressurized. They now stood above it as Brenda moved over the familiar controls. “Well guys whoever is in here has been cryogenically frozen. It has the exact same components as Dora’s cryotube.”

  Henry felt a pang of fear in the pit of his gut, leave it alone, I don’t like the looks of it. Whoever it is in there, they can wait.

  Brenda stood to face Henry hoping she could read what was going on in his mind. His face was a perfect blank; his emotions had been buried deep, too deep for even her. Brenda stopped him before he could turn to leave. “We can’t Henry, you know we can’t wait, we have to revive whoever is in there now. The liquid nitrogen has boiled off . . . ,” her voice trailed off.

  Henry turned to leave, not wanting to hear the reality. “We have a far greater task at hand and I say we get a move on it because our friends are relying on us and we are short on supplies and the means of getting them replenished.”

  Brenda gently insisted, using a voice of reason. “Whoever is in there was clearly sent to us. We need to do this.”

  Henry stopped and turned to face her and with a heavy sigh he reluctantly agreed. “Fine, help me open it up.”

  Brenda and Henry worked together to remove the heavy panel of the outer casing to get to the dewar inside the cryocapsule. Removing it completely, they opened it only to find it empty. Whoever was in there had been removed likely years before.

  Henry straightened his stance and twisted his neck to relieve the tension building. “Well I’d say things just got a bit more complicated. We were gone for quite some time so who the hell knows what has transpired in our absence. This ship of ours has taken us back in time then forward to leave us here, but the question now is, as it seems it is always the same damn question, when?”

  Magnus’s brain was churning with the thought of time travel and with a heavy sigh he said, “Yes very true, in our absence time here has ticked away; we can only assume we have arrived sometime in the future. Magnus nodding towards the empty dewar. “Furthermore whoever was in there was important enough to be sent to us. That person may have had something further to add to our ever-growing predicament.”

  Brenda searched around in her mind, her thoughts coming to a likely conclusion. “Perhaps our adversary in our absence found an important clue leading to this moment—quite possibly finding this person and apprehending whoever was in there.”

  Magnus chimed in, “Bait . . . , Kore could quite possibly use this person as bait to lure us into a trap. We need to keep our wits about us and never let our guard down.”

  Henry blew out a heavy tired sigh, slumping his shoulders. “Okay, we keep this possible scenario in the back of our minds. We must get started with our mission of getting this ship restocked and the greater mission of rescuing Dimitri and Coolie. That much we know for sure.”

  Jobar chimed in as his attempt to agree with Henry. “Yes we need to restock this ship first if we are to attempt a rescue for our friends that have been captured and taken from us, and we need to find where.”

  Patsup looked at Jobar, giving him a knowing glance and announcing, “I have reason to believe they have been taken to the NWO prison moon of Starlock.”

  Jobar nodded his head. “I agree . . . unfortunately I agree with my brother for once. There is no doubt in my mind that they have been taken to the maximum-security prison facility. The good news is I know a pair of ruthless individuals who can get us in . . . for a price.”

  Henry ran his hand through his hair as he always did when faced with a difficult decision. “How do you know these guys?”

  Jobar held his breath and blew it out slowly. “Coolie and I have had business dealings with them over the years.”

  Henry’s eyes narrowed, along with Patsup’s, whose mouth now hung open in anticipation of the knowledge he was about to gain to the mystery of how his brother had acquired his wealth over the years of being a simple deep space miner.

  Jobar sat his weary bones on an empty cargo crate. “It’s the poppies . . . we sold them poppies you had gathered for us over the years. The ones from the forbidden planet got the most credits . . . It was our early retirement fund.”

  Patsup drew in a sharp breath. “You are a drug dealer! I knew it!”

  Jobar shook his head as he was too exhausted to control his brother’s over-reaction. He merely managed to say, “Ah, put a sock in it already!” He continued despite the irritation of his brother, “These guys would buy our poppies and then sell them within the prison. Most of its occupants and caretakers are addicts.”

  Henry let the information wash over him like a wave of water, then threw his head back in a stressed laughter. “Okay, that’s great . . . just great. So how reliable are these characters?”

  Brenda said, with the voice of reason, “Jesus Christ Henry, you can’t be serious!”

  Magnus held her elbow. “It might be our only chance at getting them out.”

  Brenda shook her head. “Oh, for God’s sake, you’re suggesting we join forces with a couple of criminals?”

  Henry weighed the odds. “Who better to get us in and out of a prison than a couple of criminals?”

  Brenda eyes were incensed. “You’re serious, you really are serious.”

  Magnus asked the obvious. “Okay Jobar, what is our first line of attack?”

  Jobar looked up with a twisted smile. “More poppies . . . lots of poppies.”

  Magnus leaned against the hull. “Well, shite I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  Henry knew it was the only way. “Look everyone we have depleted our supplies and have stripped the ship—we need to get more than just the poppies at this point.”

  Brenda added, “With the government upheaval we have caused, chances are we shouldn’t be getting the usual attention, but I suggest we still stay away from heavily populated systems.”

  Magnus added, “We still have a good amount of credits, but with the upheaval might come a certain amount of price gouging.”

  Jobar added, “I think we will have enough with what Coolie and I had saved over the years. He walked across the cargo bay to a huge securely tethered crate they had retrieved from his home and kicked it. There are enough credits in here to resupply, and get us some decent weapons . . . we are going to need them for more than picking poppies.”

  CHAPTER 52

  The very moment Dorathy had touched the sarcophagus in the pyramid that was built so many lifetimes ago. The structure hidden for thousands of years buried under a mile of ice; exposed now to the cold desolate place it had become. It sat alone waiting for her, as everyone else had perished. Her frequency had traveled through dark matter, bending the fabric of space and time; it moved across the vast distances and across the ages. Her signal had set in motion the beginning of the master plan, the foundation of what h
ad been laid down since the beginning of time. All of mankind’s achievements, all that had been and ever would be, all of the sacrifices made, came down to one single act: a simple touch of the cold granite surface, by the only person who was left to join the others. They had waited for her to complete her mission.

  At that very moment when Dorathy touched the stone coffer, deep within the catacombs of the Lost City, the lights flickered alive, the energy source powered up. The forgotten tomb filled with a cloud of cold vapor, hissing as it was emitted from the chambers holding the essence of life, life that had been planted across the universe so long ago. The glass and metal casings vibrated, shaking a cloud of dust collected over the millennia. Slowly, one by one, each of the twelve cryotubes opened with a hiss, exposing the chosen ones within.

  The crystal amulet holds the key to the gates of heaven and the gate keepers have been waiting patiently for their Key Master to return. Together they will find the path to the portal and finally continue their journey to join The Otherlings . . .

  The adventure continues!

  EPILOGUE

  Personal Journal:

  I sit in my treehouse overlooking the clear warm waters of the South Pacific, the sun sinking below the horizon casting its reds and pinks, color washing the clouds. As long as I live, I will never grow tired of the fragrant air brought by the gentle trade winds. The sound of the calm water lapping against the shore, the breeze ruffling the palm fronds, has been my lullaby for many years.

  I feel my mind fading as I desperately try to hold together the last remnants of my sanity; my life seems to drift on as the currents shift with the changing tides of my life. I hold onto the thoughts of how things could have been different if not for my predicament but know the path I am on is the path that had been chosen for me for a greater purpose. I have been stripped of my existence and my life, such as it is, has shredded me to the core.

  I have been left alone on this world, this distant planet a mere speck, an insignificant piece of space dust floating in the empty cold darkness. I often wonder about the people that once inhabited this world as they departed for the unknown. I think about all that they left behind and the corruption that led to this deserted beach, this deserted paradise. They left on mankind’s greatest adventure into an unknown future. To explore what might be. Only to recreate what had already been.

  I think back to the time of the first explorers that set out charting a course to their great unknown, enduring great hardships aboard their trusted ships—the lands they discovered along the way, the people that befriended them or fought against them. The cultures they encountered, expanding their views or leaving them to question their own beliefs—at the end of the day, it was and always will be a redundant act.

  I think back to my life, my journey, and I can’t help but compare myself to those first explorers. What would Magellan, Drake, or Columbus have to say about my adventure to the unknown? Would they applaud our efforts or condemn us for the blasphemous idea of approaching the gates of heaven as a conceivable place: a physical place, rather than the place that only the worthy may pass through?

  Throughout mankind’s existence we have looked to the stars for the answers to the most basic of questions, what is our true origin? We have always hoped that we were somehow a part of something bigger than ourselves. Somehow knowing, would make us feel just a wee bit better about our lives, giving us a purpose so that we might achieve greatness in knowing the truth. Our need to know, and our ability to evolve, had been left in the core of our very existence and to ignore it I think is unforgivable.

  So here I am having gone to depths so unfamiliar and so unknown, so far from my home and my life, to be left completely alone on this beautiful speck of space dust. I go up to my deck above the trees and lie under the starry night sky with my eyes fixed upon the tiny twinkle of the middle star of Orion’s sword. I cry up to him as he taunts me, and I think that one day I will find my answers as I pass through the gate to the place, we all call paradise. Is paradise a place where there is no pain or suffering, or is it merely a different way of living? I think to the wars we had fought, the lives taken in vain all in the name of religion, I pray that one day we shall have the answers that have haunted man back to the time when some long-forgotten antecedent in the path of our evolution, tilted his or her head back and looked upon the stars wondering what lay behind the twinkling points of light, with his or her curiosity building from somewhere within their very being. Is it a place of myth or a place of reality, and is that reality something tangible or is it just a place for spirits to congregate? I would venture to say from my short time visiting, it is a place not so different from my little strip of sand.

  My precious Zwicky is now sleeping comfortably in his bed. He has been my constant companion and is growing to be an old man now with the white of his whiskers only matched by the grey in my hair.

  Every day I have sat here reflecting on my life, my accomplishments and my failures, my love and love lost. My life has been quite a journey filled with an adventure like no other. But I grow weary and I feel it is time to rest now; my equipment has been taxed by the salt air, my hibernation unit, such as it is, I believe to still be functioning properly as I have devoted so many of my resources to keep it protected from the elements. I can’t help but think about how much more time will pass before they are able to come back for me—will it be tomorrow or the next day or will it be many more years from now? I will never know what the tide might bring in. I suppose if I were to die waiting, I would have ventured off to the place I seek . . . so either way I will pass through the gates to heaven or whatever one might want to call it.

  I wonder sometimes what is beyond the gate, beyond the Otherlings. Is it someplace that we might come to explore someday? Who knows what great adventures still lie ahead? It’s that old song that keeps turning in my mind

  Somewhere over the rainbow way up high there’s a place that I heard of once in a lullaby . . . Someday I wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me . . .

  Depths Unknown

  Written by Trevor Bystrom

  I suck the juices from the sweet little weeds

  I tell the stories I don’t even complete

  I carry on . . . no time to delay

  The Earth feels like its movin’ and I begin to stumble

  I try to speak but every word turns to mumble

  I am gone my mind starts to fade

  I have gone, to depths unknown

  So far from home, to be all alone

  I feel the wheels turnin’ but I can’t go no where

  I reached the pulpit but there’s no one even there

  I carry on . . . no time to delay

  I climb the trees till I reach the starry sky

  Look in the jungle give out my darkest cry

  I am gone, my mind has faded.

  BOOK TWO

  Coming soon

  THE OTHERLINGS AND THE LOST CITY

  Acknowledgments

  First and for most this book never would have happened without the great talent and inspiration of Deirdre Van Collie. She is responsible for taking my jumbled-up mess of dyslexic thoughts and with patience and care ironed out something extraordinary. The knowledge I gained from her will follow me through to the rest of my writing career. There are no words to thank her for the help she offered. I also thank my friend Bob Beck for giving me the much-needed push to start the writing process with his gift of the book by Stephen King “On Writing”. I thank Dr. Nick Szegedi for his praise and support of my aspiration to better my knowledge of science and physics and guiding me down the right path of research. I thank Carol Mason for her constant support and for whipping me when I came close to giving up, offering little gifts to force me to continue along the way and Martha D’eramo for dreaming big for me. I thank W. Scott Renner Captain, US Navy, Retired for his description of cold war era Navy submarines. I thank my niece Laura for her help and support and a big thank you to my very special
physicist friend in Houston. I thank George Newell for sharing with me his time spent at McMurrdo Station in Antarctica. I thank Austin Nichol for his incredible cover art and Trevor Bystrom for allowing me to use the lyrics of his song ‘Depths Unknown’ which offered much inspiration. A big thank you to Stuart Thaman and Sarah Ferguson for taking me under their wing and getting it done. I thank the subreddits of Reddit to Daniel Chivvis of Harvard and all the Scientist, Physicists (even the smartass ones, you know who you are), Geneticist, Egyptologists, CERN, Self- publishing and the list goes on. What an incredible resource.

  Finally, a huge thank you to my husband, family, friends and clients. You all know who you are and how you helped me. There is not enough paper in the world to write about how much you all mean to me. Whether near or far you were always there for me and always believed in me. Thank you for lifting me up when I was down and telling me repeatedly, “you got this girl!” I would be NOWHERE without your love and continuous support.

  And I thank my beloved little dog Wicky for keeping me company at my desk all those countless hours and for my cat Lucy for her continuous help on the keyboard of my laptop, without her help I would have finished sooner. Mama loves you both.

  About the Author

  S.V. Hurn, that’s me. Born on March 16th, 1964. I grew up on the central coast of California and always looked to the stars dreaming of far off adventures. Having the greatest desire to learn about the physical world that surrounds us, I grabbed as many science books as possible. A tall task back in the days before the internet. My dream was to be an Astrophysicist but my inability to grasp even the simplest math equations was my one true obstacle.

  I remember watching Sar Trek with my mother. I announced I was in love with Spok and not the Captain, this mystified my mother. Of course, when I grew up, I was going to marry Carl Sagan. He unfortunately married someone else.