Chapter 19
Chris asked the Saint Marie’s computer for a picture of Ek-clar. The computer provided a holographic image of a moon as it circled a planet roughly the size of Jupiter. The station floated on the dark side of the moon, using it as a natural shield against the planet’s intense radiation. To one side of the image, there were a few paragraphs describing technical data about the station. It used satellites to collect radiation from the planet and convert it into energy for the station.
Chris directed the computer to zoom in on the station. It was an alien design. A sphere at the center extended several armatures outward in all directions The armatures ended and split at right angles creating the impression the station was oval in shape.
A wave of excitement and anticipation washed over Chris. A smile spread on his face and his eyes lit up. “This is where we’re going, Homer.”
“This is Ek-clar station?” Homer asked.
“Yes. It should prove interesting. They’re a trading outpost, so I’m going to assume they’re not going to blast us out of the sky.”
A pleasant thought occurred to Chris. The ambulance traveled at much faster fatal speeds than a normal ship. He was guessing they would pass Javis and arrive at Ek-clar a few days before him. He knew he would have to be prepared for Javis’ arrival, and exploring the station was certainly one way to prepare. Life was starting to become fun again, instead of simply hectic. Chris was looking forward to arriving at the Belarian station.
A concern entered his mind.
“Computer, access Belarian protocol regarding emergency visits into their space by an alien ship. What kind of problems will we encounter?”
“There is no information available regarding Belarian protocols,” the computer responded.
“What info do you have about Belarians?”
“There is a thirty minute documentary available, as well as three magazine articles discussing future trade agreements between Mars and Belaria,” the computer responded.
“Homer, do you mind if I switch the holoscreen from the map to a documentary?” Chris asked.
“No, not at all. Please prepare yourself for your arrival at the Belarian station. I shall observe your preparations.”
“Thanks, Homer,” Chris said with a grin. “Computer. Begin playing Belarian documentary.”
The holo picture changed to the Belarian home world spinning on its axis, and a narrator’s voice began describing Belaria. “Belaria is roughly the same size and makeup as Terra. It has eight major continents and seventy-five percent of the planet is covered with water. Belaria has a matriarchal government with a hierarchical system. The planet is governed by ten regents, each of whom represents a geographical area of approximately the same size, and who meet regularly four times per year. There is no class or caste system outside of governmental designations and the government seems to have little direct control over the individuals of its population. The government is responsible for coordinating military training, educating the young, and providing for the medical needs of its people.”
The picture changed to a nude Belarian male and female. “Belarians are humanoid and have many remarkable similarities to humans.”
Chris noted they had two feet, two hands, one head and the appropriate sex organs. But one feature struck him as odd. “Do the males have permanent erections?”
“Yes, the Belarian penis is supported by a bone. It does not rely on a system of fluid expansion as the human penis does,” the narrator answered.
“Does it get any bigger?”
“There is some variation in size from one male to another. However, the Belarian penis does not expand. The sample shown is the average size.”
“How about the female’s sex organs. How are they different from a human’s?”
“The female ovulates four times a year and is fertile for approximately two weeks during these times. The females have the equivalent of a ‘G’ spot on the posterior side of the vagina and do not have a clitoris or its equivalent.”
“Continue with the basic documentary,” Chris directed.
After the documentary was finished, Chris decided to try clearing up some of his anxiety about transferred memories before they arrived at the station. He wanted to examine his fears of the newly acquired memories. Homer had been right. His fears could distract him to the point where he might blow the mission.
He explained to Homer he was going to meditate and would probably be gone for about thirty minutes. Starting with the bow position, Chris performed a series of easy stretches to get the energy flowing smoothly through his body.
Lying down on one of the beds in the sickbay, he focused on his breathing for several minutes, feeling a familiar distance between himself and his body develop. The distance not only minimized physical sensations, but separated him from his emotions, as his body relaxed and tensions dissipated. He was in a quiet, empty space with no distractions.
Although he doubted his fears of the future were invalid, he didn’t want to be distracted by them while he was on the station. He also had to admit to himself he was intensely curious about his donor. He had been since his parents had told him of his genetic origins, but there had never been any info available to begin researching.
Chris decided to take control of the situation. Rather than going through the next three months constantly inhibiting the memories, he decided to risk examining them, to incorporate them into his sense of identity. One memory had intrigued him. It had been of a summer spent with his grandfather (or Casey’s grandfather).
He allowed himself to sink into the memory of a summer long, long ago.
There was the smell of clean, fresh air, the sound of a breeze rustling the leaves in the trees, causing shafts of sunlight to play and dance with the shadows. His grandfather was talking about patience.
His grandfather was an old man in his seventies, but still strong in his mind and body. Somehow his long, braided, white hair seemed to fit with his faded denim shirt and jeans. His weathered, wrinkled face displayed character and inner peace. He was a man who was content with the life he had lived. He was of the old ways. Ways without technology. An uncomplicated, nearly extinct lifestyle .
Casey’s parents had sent him to spend the summer with his grandfather in the hopes it would calm him down. Casey had gotten in trouble with the law and had been hanging around with a gang of young thugs. He wasn’t happy about leaving his friends to spend a boring summer with his grandfather.
“Hunting is all about patience and focus,” his grandfather said. “The hunter waits for his prey, using all of his senses. Sight, hearing, smell, all are opened to the world as you wait. In this way you become one with nature. Impatience is your enemy. Not only does it disturb your hunt, but it will disturb the harmony of the tribe.”
Casey heard the words, but didn’t understand them. He had no experiences relating to hunting or patience. From his perspective this was all nonsense. His grandfather didn’t even hunt with a gun. “But, Grandfather, it could be hours before a deer comes near here. You want me to remain quiet and motionless for hours.”
“If you want to eat something besides vegetable stew tonight, yes, that is exactly what I want.”
The first week had seemed like a living hell. He sat around waiting for wild game, bored out of his mind. His frustration was intense. Twice deer had wandered by and he had missed his chance. The first time he hadn’t been prepared. He had shot in a rush and missed the buck he had been aiming at. During his second opportunity he had made a noise and the doe and her two fawns had bolted.
He hated his grandfather. He hated the watery vegetable stew for dinner every evening as they waited for him to kill some sort of wild game. He hated the gnawing emptiness in his stomach, even though it caused his senses to become heightened. The importance of the hunt began to take on a new meaning for him. A successful hunt meant a full belly.
He began to lose track of the days after the first week, as one day merged with the next. There were no clocks or calendars in his grandfather’s small cabin. He had no television or radio for distraction or entertainment. There were none of the time oriented pressures from the civilized world. Casey’s sense of time became dependent on the movement of the sun.
Gradually, his mind became calmer and his sense of reality shifted. Colors and sounds became crisper and more vibrant. The forest became a mystical place full of life and the rhythms of nature. He became used to quiet, to the lack of constant conversation or activity. Each day as he hunted, he became more and more comfortable with spending time alone, his thoughts and beliefs becoming the source of his identity. His need for stimulation came to be satisfied with the beauty and wonders the forest provided. He started to become more and more sensitive to the subtle changes in the forest as one day moved to the next.
In the evenings Casey and his grandfather would play checkers and talk. His grandfather did most of the talking, telling stories of his life and experiences, and sharing words of wisdom.
“Never tell a lie, Casey,” his grandfather said one evening. “You have to tell a hundred more lies to cover for the first one, and you have to remember the lies to keep your stories straight. When I was a young man, about your age, I lied to my father, telling him his bow had been stolen. Actually, I had lost it. I was afraid to tell him I had lost it, so I lied to him. At the time it had seemed like an easy way to avoid his anger. But he asked questions and with each new question I had to tell another lie. Other people approached me, concerned by the theft. Soon, I had lied to several of my tribe. I never did tell my father I had lost his bow, and I had to live with the constant fear someone would find it. After my story had been accepted, I swore I would never tell another lie. The truth is much easier.”
One morning during the second week, Casey was hunting, waiting for a deer to cross his field of vision. He had done all the things his grandfather had instructed him to. He was downwind from where the deer often slept. He was near a stream. He was quiet.
To pass the time he practiced some of the exercises the old man had taught him. He felt the air blowing ever so lightly against his skin. He listened to all the sounds of the forest simultaneously, trying simply to accept them without identifying them. He expanded his field of vision, with nonfocused eyes, trying to see peripherally. He smelled the rich variety of forest smells. The idea was to expand all of his senses simultaneously, with no specific focus, while keeping his conscious mind in a state of rest. In this way, he would become one with nature.
He smelled something in the air, an animal smell. He heard a twig snap and he became totally focused on his immediate surroundings.
He saw the doe, its brown fur contrasting against the sunlit field in the background. Slowly, he raised his bow and arrow. He could feel the tension in his arms and shoulders. The string pressed hard against the tips of his two fingers as he lined up the target. Fear and excitement caused his heart to pound and he hoped the deer wouldn’t hear it. At the right moment he let the arrow fly. The arrow went into the doe’s throat and the animal leapt away, leaving a trail of blood.
“Grandfather! Grandfather!” he yelled.
After a few minutes his grandfather appeared through the woods.
“Did you get something?” he asked.
“Yes. I got a doe,” Casey said excitedly. “I shot it through the neck and it ran away!”
“Yes, I see the blood. Well, let’s track it,” his grandfather said patiently.
They followed the blood trail for almost half an hour, occasionally losing it, but his grandfather always finding it once again. His respect for his grandfather’s ways, which had been growing in spite of Casey’s determination not to recognize it, could no longer be denied.
As they came upon the body of the doe, his grandfather knelt and explained to the doe why it had been killed and thanked it for the use of its flesh. “After every successful hunt, you must always explain to your prey the need for the hunt and express your gratitude,” Grandfather had said. “In this way you will not become full of the ego and you will remain in harmony with the world.”
He instructed Casey to perform the same ritual.
Life changed after his first kill. His grandfather gave him an Indian name meaning ‘patient hunter’. He learned patience. He learned to appreciate food was all the sweeter because he had provided it. And he developed a sense of harmony. That summer turned out to be one of the most spiritual adventures of Casey’s life and he had come to love and respect his grandfather. They had bonded.
It was a wonderful memory and Chris was pleased to have the opportunity to share it. He decided to skim through some of the other memories to find out who this man was.
In high school he had recieved a report card in which he was amazed to see he had gotten a ‘D’ in trigonometry. The teacher was being kind. He didn’t deserve a ‘D’.
He discovered being a bounty hunter suited him. He was paid well for his services and he became a highly skilled tracker of men.
Later, Casey became a county sheriff, something he always found astonishing. Casey was surprised at the number of people who knew of him and apparently respected him.
Chris was leaping from memory to memory, skipping over years at a time. With each leap, he could feel Casey’s mind and philosophies expanding and maturing.
By the time Casey was fifty he had worked out a basic system of principles he lived by.
-Avoid lying. It causes nothing but trouble.
-Follow through. Complete the things you have committed to.
-Be responsible for yourself. By giving responsibility for your problems and solutions to others, you gave away your personal power.
-Strive to achieve quality and excellence in all you do.
-Don’t be afraid to ask for help.
Chris pulled away from the memories and returned to the quiet space. He decided he would have liked Casey. He knew he had only skimmed through the man’s surface memories, but in Chris’ opinion Casey had been a good man.
Chris was also completely aware people had a tendency to approve of like-minded individuals and he couldn’t deny the strong similarities in the way the two of them viewed reality and in the experiences they had chosen to include in their lives. Chris could only conclude the obvious, they were genetically predisposed towards certain tendencies.
They both maintained a positive outlook and preferred an easy going attitude rather than a complicated one, seeing these behaviors from a big picture perspective. Physical disciplines and sensory expansion exercises had attracted both of them. Neither of them had an intuitive grasp of any of the more complicated forms of mathematics.
There were differences as well. Different experiences had resulted in different abilities and beliefs. Chris had received special training in mathematics and Casey had not. Casey had enjoyed woodworking and Chris had no experience with wood. Casey had been a Christian and Chris was a New Age Friend. Casey had married and had children, and had lived in a monogamous relationship for several years after the children were gone. Living in a monogamous relationship until....until the memories ended. Chris could not remember the events leading up to Casey’s death or how he died. The memories just seemed to stop as he was driving to Detroit one morning. Chris had no idea how Casey had died. In fact, there were a large number of holes in Casey’s memories.
Chris intuitively felt he had meditated for long enough. It was time to return. Coming out of his meditative trance, he increased the speed of his metabolism and opened his eyes. He liked Casey and was no longer opposed to having his memories. They actually felt comfortable and seemed to belong.
Chris sat up and looked at the room around him. He felt calmer and more relaxed. As often happened after coming out of a meditative state, colors seemed brighter and outlines crisper. The symptoms of coming out of a meditative trance are the same as the ones Casey developed during the summer spent with his grandfather while hunting. The difference is Casey was living in an altered state for the entire summer. The effects of a meditation generally disappear after an hour.
There was something else. Chris noticed he felt more solid, more grounded. Casey’s experiences during the summer so long ago had affected Chris psychologically. He felt more confident, but he also felt more... certain of who he was.
Feeling a need to be busy, Chris decided to take inventory of the ambulance’s contents.
There’s all kinds of medical equipment here, he thought, looking around the ambulance sickbay. I wonder what might be useful when we arrive at Ek-clar Station. Chris went through the entire inventory of equipment. Some things he recognized, many he did not. Whenever he came across something he didn’t understand he asked the computer.
The therapy bay consisted of two beds, each with its own treatment and scanning equipment. Both beds had basic equipment capable of scanning for broken bones and damaged tissue. Combinations of electromagnetic and ultra sound techniques were used. Each bed also had regeneration resonance generators, which included DNA scanners as a preliminary step in adjusting the generators. One bed was set up for computer coordinated laser surgery and the other had equipment for emergency life support.
After a little over an hour, he concluded the ambulance would make a great forensics lab. The DNA scanners by themselves would be invaluable.
The chemical analysis lab setup in the corner could provide information ranging from drug analysis to the chemical makeup of an individuals body oils.
But there was very little in the Saint Marie useful as a weapon. Chris did discover a very expensive League language translator and stashed it in his bag.
He wondered if some of the equipment might be of interest to the Belarians and decided to trade anything in the ambulance the Belarians might want in return for their help. Hell, Chris thought, I’ll give them the ambulance, if it will secure the corbinite for me. Just so long as the stuff doesn’t get turned into a bomb.
Chris realized he was hungry and remembered the last time he had eaten was on Corbin III. The food storage unit was near the control panel, right behind Homer. Opening it, he found nutritionally enhanced bananas. They were larger than the normal banana and loaded with vitamins and proteins. He decided Kelly must have stocked them and figured they must be one of her favorite emergency food rations.
As he ate, he looked at the three dimensional map above the holo projector in front of Homer. A red dot in the center of the map indicated the ambulance’s position. Stars and galaxies moved past the red dot at a moderate rate, although Chris understood they were traveling at about 100 times the speed of light.
Chris felt his energy level begin to soar as he finished a second banana. He was rested and well fed. Now he was feeling a need for physical stimulation. “Homer, have you read anything about the biorhythms of human beings?”
“Yes. Why? Is something wrong.”
“No. I just have a really high energy level right now. It’s nothing to worry about. I’m feeling very dynamic, and a little wired.”
Chris breathed slowly to keep himself from becoming fidgety and to allow the energy to spread itself evenly throughout his body. He was relaxed, but alert and aware.
On his own ship, Javis finished reading the rules and regulations of Ek-clar Station. As a chief of security (or former chief of security), he had a special interest in the rules and regulations of other organizations. He noted with satisfaction his security system had been far superior to what the Ek-clar Station was using. They didn’t even bother to inspect ships to find out what was being carried in their cargo bays. They just took people at their word on what they were transporting.
He scoffed at trust systems. They were so easily abused by people like himself. People who used trust systems deserved to be cheated. Trust was for fools. Trust no one. That’s my motto. Which includes the bloody great asshole Ginyit, he thought.
Javis had sent two carrier pigeons to his contact at Intergalactic Mining, knowing if one didn’t make it, the other probably would. The messages were the same in both carriers.
He didn’t know if he would receive a response, but he did feel some sense of loyalty to the individual who had stood by him through all the wrongs Intergalactic Mining had plagued him with.
Javis thought back to his conversation with Raymond Ginyit as they discussed the delivery of corbinite to the Ek-clar Station.
“There is no doubt in my mind you will be able to complete this mission,” Ginyit’s voice had told him soothingly. “Your expertise in capturing Black and bringing him here shows your intelligence and adaptability.”
Having someone recognize his abilities was all Javis had ever wanted. “After I’ve delivered the corbinite, then what?” he asked.
“Then you return here. You’ll receive the 50,000 credits we already owe you, plus another 50,000 credits. After the Sanine home world has been destroyed and the evidence leads them back to Corbin III, the League will ban Earth and, hopefully, Mars from space travel. Our efforts to take control of Earth will begin then. You’ll be my assistant. You’re familiar with how Intergalactic Mining operates. They will be our vehicle for controlling Earth. Only we will be able to provide them with corbinite.”
Javis had wanted to believe. He could see himself as a crusader, saving Earth from the influence of League minds and ending all contact with alien life forms.
During the time he had been on the station, he had fallen under Raymond Ginyit’s charismatic powers of persuasion. With Javis away from Ginyit, the effects were wearing off and his own self-interests were once again becoming a priority. He did agree with Ginyit’s views on aliens, though. Humans would be better off without them.
One of his newest self-interests was a drug the doctor had introduced him to at Cavanaugh Station in preparation for his trip to Ek-clar. The doctor had stated it was a mild antidepressant and might be useful to counteract boredom during the long flight he was about to undertake.
Unfortunately, he was bored again. He had used little of the drug, and was trying to ration it out. He didn’t know he was becoming addicted to it.
He was starting the third day of his journey. The first two days had been fine because the drug had been a wonderful way to ward off the tedium of solitary space travel. But now he was beginning to suffer from the isolation and the lack of stimulation on the trip. Javis didn’t realize the effects of isolation were becoming exaggerated by the absence of the drug. He still had three more days before he reached Ek-clar.
His mind retreated to familiar patterns. Reviewing the injustices he had suffered recently, and over the course of his life was a favorite pastime.
One of his favorite wrongs to relive was his job just prior to transferring to Corbin III. He had been promoted to chief of security there and told he would have a free hand in making sure no corbinite was stolen from the planet. But within just two days of implementing his program to strip search the miners after they came out of the mines, he had received orders to stop the practice. On the third day he received notice any procedural changes needed approval by the colony manager, Mark Broder. Broder would now be his immediate supervisor. He was certain the women miners had complained about him. They didn’t understand he had just been doing his job. His enjoyment of the searches was irrelevant.
And how had he been rewarded for doing his job? With disrespect. Any ideas he had were immediately negated by the liberal wimp, Broder. Finally he had put in for a transfer and received Corbin III. And Henry Lee wasn’t any better.
Soon after his arrival on Corbin III he had been approached by Frank, one of the transport workers from an independent cargo ship, and asked if he was interested in earning some extra money. He had known immediately an opportunity was presenting itself. He was no virgin when it came to accepting bribes. He had been on the take before and accepted it as normal operating procedure. He had no real loyalties to the company or to Henry Lee. Not after the way they had treated him.
The infractions had started out small. At first, it had been letting small amounts of corbinite slide through the inspections with certain transport workers. Then there was the request for information about the planet’s security systems. He had received 10,000 credits for the information.
When he had received orders from Frank to rearrange the schedule of the guards, so one specific evening a minimal number would be on duty, he had known immediately a heist was going to happen. This was not problem for him. He was in too deep already and took a perverse pleasure in the idea of Intergalactic Mining suffering a major financial loss, with Henry Lee being embarrassed in the process. The offer of another 50,000 credits didn’t bother him either.
When the private investigator had arrived his schemes started to crumble. He was supposed to meet the man who had assaulted Black, and the two of them were to discretely transfer Black to the Allurian transport. Javis had questioned Black’s assailant before he committed suicide. The conversation had been one-sided and useless, with Javis asking questions and the prisoner remaining silent. Javis had realized, for some reason, Black was to be captured, not killed. Javis understood the man had been sent to capture Black and had failed. There was no doubt in Javis’ mind he had been sent by Frank’s employer.
When Frank’s dead body was discovered in the abandoned pickup, Javis recognized his plans, and his career, would soon be destroyed. He had been surprised to find Frank dead. The man still owed him 50,000 credits.
Once, Frank had tried to convince Javis to accept payment in the form of paintel. Javis had wondered about Frank’s odd skin tone and, after the offer of paintel, Javis understood. He figured the paintel addict was certainly better off now.
Javis knew the investigation would uncover the credits transferred to his account. With Black snooping around it would only be a matter of time before they discovered his role in the corbinite theft.
After Kelly plugged in the coordinates for Cavanaugh Station, Javis decided it was time for action. He would deliver Black to Cavanaugh Station and prove his worth to his new employer. He also hoped to collect the 50,000 credits owed to him.
His own genius astonished him. By deciding to deliver Black to the station he would become one rich bastard.