- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
Chapter Two: That Which Cannot Be Named
Operating under the meticulous eye of Officer Malak was something of an enigmatic experience amongst the military. Little was known about the man; especially by low-ranking soldiers such as Arken and his friend. Rumours circulated, never particularly pleasant ones. Nonetheless, they found themselves on his vessel and heading with haste towards the border zone.
The synthesised enclosure was nice and calming, although their uncertainty as to what would befall them was not. Overhead, a large, projected bird blotted out what little sun sifted through the canopy of the forest; nearby, a deep pool was half hidden from view by light reeds.
It was, however, unnaturally humid. Maratt sat completely still on the bench, Arken was leant against a tree. It had been but thirty cycles since they had defeated the rebels on the ringworld, a pampered experience had ensued. General Kers had ensured the entire military that such an outbreak would not happen again. Maratt just hoped that the Commander survived through whatever fate his superior had bestowed upon him. A sudden breeze caught his dark hair and ruffled through it.
Moments later, a man of medium height and build strode out of the air and presented himself in front of them. He was clad as per a usual Officer; the insignia panel blazed against his otherwise grey uniform. But his face was emotionless. His eyes seemed never to blink, and he had no age. His hair was dyed white and was short; the stubbles of a beard were his most distinguishing feature. Every word he spoke was deliberate, pronunciated with exceptional accuracy, yet he was not trying to intimidate. He would be a ferocious combatant if a need ever arose again.
“Corporals Rajewitz and Uther, last engaged six cycles ago on the Delta ring. I’m impressed that you managed to save us all from too much embarrassment. But things are about to get rather more difficult for you; nay, for all of us. Two cycles ago, w e received an emergency transmission from an outlying BADSE expedition. This is most irregular, I hope you realise. Our mission is one of reconnaissance. We’re to find out what is transpiring at the excavation site.” He looked at a gadget on his wrist, “We’re about to enter the system and I don’t know what to anticipate.”
“We’re ready,” Arken spoke up.
“Glad to hear it.”
With that, he vanished into the air from whence he had come. The small area was again tranquil as Maratt formed an expression of trouble.
***
The small vessel had been suspended in orbit for several cycles now. From the outside, it appeared as per usual; internally it remained untouched – but it lacked one thing. Private Harshal was first on the scene and swiftly reported his findings to Malak.
“Professor Umor is not aboard the vessel.”
Within seconds, Malak was reviewing the Intrepid’s logs on his own cruiser.
Eventually, he carefully began, “the Council did not inform me of Umor’s findings.”
It was clear to the crew that he was displeased at this. His muscles tensed and his face seemed to shrink ever so slightly.
“The records end as he goes to the surface. Prepare to drop to the excavation site. Arm lightly.”
Arken glanced once more at the intricately designed bridge before his module encased him in shimmering energy and delivered him to the surface.
It was placid. Not a thing stirred, save the leaves of a tall tree as the wind graced it. The sky was a delicate shade of blue, blurred between fluffy clouds; the sun shone down brilliantly and the light was unnaturally enticing. It was as though stepping out of the hologram had thrust the two soldiers into a dream, and they progressed across the dirt groggily.
The village was up ahead, but sensors they’d taken showed no movement. The operation display had mapped out the entire area; atop a small plateau a few hundred metres from the last mud hut was the excavation camp, enclosed within a large, dull metallic capsule.
Two grand doors dissolved into the air to allow the unit entry. Malak strode in with the utmost confidence. The scans were again correct; nothing stirred inside. Light still passed through the roof, but it was greatly dimmed by the material’s enigmatic properties. The dream had ended, reality beckoned once more.
A glowing gravity lift connected the currently invisible dormitories above to the level Arken and Maratt were on; a seemingly natural cave and several deep, artificial crevasses supported by gravity fields led the way beneath the surface. Their presence was greeted friendlily by a welcoming and enthusiastic voice.
“Greetings! I am BADSE Monitor 13, assigned to observe this mission and log all relevant data. How may I be of assistance?”
“Monitor,” Malak demanded, “Recall the events of the past ten cycles.”
“Certainly. Opening logs at Chorvan 00, Cycle 13.”
The rounded monitor paused for a moment, and it’s blue screen was dull. Suddenly it burst into life and a projection flared onto the ground. The figure of Messies Umor strode forward and was greeted by another man. Their faces were indistinguishable due to the poor quality of the hologram.
“Messies, I’m glad you’ve arrived. We’ve established that the tribe’s most recent activities happened near this cave. But this whole issue appears to be but the tip of the iceberg with what the scanners have deduced.”
Their projected selves made their way over to a large screen. Arken could tell that it was not switched on; blue light recreated the images that Lor had brought up. A large circle filled it, with the outlines of large holes contained within.
“As you can see, the structure of this planet is quite incredible for a natural formation. Intricate caverns stretch for miles beneath the surface; rocky plateaus and other such compositions are supported by irregular yet sturdy columns. We’ve identified the crust to be rich in a wide variety of ores, but we have been unable to determine the elements. It is fantastic.”
The hologram ceased.
“Re-opening logs at Chorvan 00, Cycle 15.”
A man rushed out from the cave. His movement was ecstatic and he held a scanner in his hand.
“We’ve found life!”
Umor and Lor followed him to the cave hastily. The former turned to face the monitor and dismissed it to contact the Council. A cloud temporarily dimmed the sun as the two men hurried into the cave’s gullet.
The sound, unlike the picture, was remarkably sharp; a woman’s scream resonated about the enclosure. Plasma shots were fired and voices shouted. They could hear the soil being uprooted and within seconds the shots and struggling faded.
“At this point, I took it upon myself to emulate a beacon.”
Curiously for a machine, it appeared to be waiting for some form of approval; and it’s tone was that of half-hidden resentment when it received none.
“I strongly suggest that you follow protocol and await a better equipped unit.”
“Suggestion noted,” Malak spoke thoughtfully. He spun on his heel to the rest of the party. “Okay. We need to contact the Council about this at once. Private Thorpe, please report to the Denizen at once.”
She tapped a device on her wrist. “Denizen, open a streaming channel with the lower Council at once. I’ll fill you in.” Moments later, she was gone.
Harshal was about to speak up as a groan reverberated out of the nearest hole. Malak was there in an instant, his scanners mapped the area in thermal for his vision aid. A single life form, humanoid but changed, lay just out of the range of the gravity field. As the Officer approached, the underground lighting system engaged. He slid down and inspected the manifestation that lay twitching on the ground.
He did not recognise the face but knew he would not forget it; it was a mask of anguish. The white uniform he had worn was covered in blood stains, and a huge hole was torn in his chest. Yellow tissue and entrails lay scattered around the wound, mixing with the red mess. Their eyes met and there was only one thing the victims’ desired.
***
[Edited on 12/4/2005]