There was a short pause between the two men as they studied each other. They both tried to gage the other’s thoughts, but with nothing more to say, the captain of the Mir offered a mock salute and then signed off.
After the transmission ended, the viewer went to a general call screen. Winslow stood for a long time looking at the blue rectangular transparency. He was somewhat disturbed by the short conversation. Things were happening too fast, and a feeling of anxiety and mistrust agitated him. John then wondered how this situation was going to unfold along with the part he was going to play in it.
* * * * *
Chapter 14: Cramer’s World
It had once been toted as a paradise among the stars, where over 20 million human beings had migrated. With an atmosphere and environment comparable to a pristine Earth of the 1st Century AD, Cramer’s World had been celebrated as the most desirable place to live of all of Earth’s colonies.
It was beautiful, picturesque, and with plants and animals that bore a striking similarity to the colonists’ home world of Earth. The only difference was that there was no dominant, intelligent species that existed. It was a curiosity that in reality held a dark secret.
However within a decade of the mass immigration, many of the humans became afflicted with some unknown plague that ravaged the planet. Many died terrible deaths, while the rest were transformed into grotesque and distorted images of their former selves. Even the plants and animals were not spared the ravages of the unknown pestilence and followed their human overseers in the agony of mutation.
Cramer’s World was immediately quarantined. By the penalty of death or total destruction, nothing was allowed to enter or leave the planet. Throughout the crisis, testing and analysis by robots and other remote systems became a daily routine, constantly looking for the source of the mysterious scourge, but nothing was seemingly found.
Eventually, the plague ran its course, and the ban was slowly lifted. However, the planet was devastated along with the once-human population. Only about one hundred thousand survivors remained on the slowly dying world—and their ordeal was far from over.
The colonists of Cramer’s World were at first treated like guinea pigs in a laboratory. They were scrutinized and prodded with all manner of scientific and medical instruments, adding humiliation to their sorrows. When no further information could be gleamed from their bodies, however, interest in their plight waned.
The freaks and their world had simply become a lost cause—and a “waste of funding” by the Earth. This had added to the burden of their grotesque appearance, casting their status and dignity as human beings aside. Even their own relatives had abandoned them to a pretense of death, wanting nothing to do with the freaks of Cramer’s World.
With no means of support on their dying planet, the surviving colonists were forced into hazardous labors to earn a living. They built many types of facilities on harsh worlds for others to habituate, or hauled cargo to farthest reaches of human space, constantly facing the dangers that few others would. But always they returned to their desolate planet, spurned by the prejudice, fear, and hatred of “normal” humans.
However, things were about to change. The hand of fate was extended to the freaks—the hand of Commander Paladin. For help in building the new cities and military bases on Valamars, the freaks were to be given an equal place within the new Martian society—and a chance at life again. So had promised Paladin; and his hand and offer were heartily accepted. And for over seven secretive years, the freaks toiled endlessly, keeping their end of the bargain.
* * * * *
The spaceport terminals on Cramer’s World were empty except for discarded personal items lying on the ground. Only the wind stirred things, as random gusts blew paper and other light objects about. People were nowhere to be seen, save for the corpses of the Earth security forces personnel that lay where they were killed. In a gesture of defiance, the living symbols of Earth’s oppressive rule were struck down as the colonists prepared for their departure from the dying world. The planet was now truly lost to the silence of desolation.
Suddenly, a deafening roar filled the air as the last of several large passenger ships lifted off from their pads. In a slow arc, they rose majestically into the outer atmosphere, heading for space.
Above the planet, a small, makeshift fleet was formed. It was comprised of vessels and crafts of all kind. From freighters to a few police patrol ships, all hovered near the planet. Among these was the freighter Ariana, which took lead position. It was old and archaic, but still very functional. Her passengers and crew were filled with renewed hope and excitement of sailing to a better world and a new beginning.
The bridge of the ship was lit in very subdued tones, hiding the appearance of each individual crewmember that work the controls or monitored the instruments. Only a single, recessed overhead light cut the darkness to illuminate two persons strapped to a round metal beam that was a support between floor and ceiling. One of the prisoners was an old man who wore the black uniform of Earth’s Security Service, while the other was a young woman in civilian garb. Both squirmed to test their confines regardless of the hopelessness of their escape.
Suddenly, the hatch to the bridge opened, bathing part of the compartment in light. Both prisoners turned to look at the figure entering.
She was slightly tall, but a little more than a silhouette in the backlighting. However as she moved, portions of her became clearly visible.
Her exposed portions of skin glistened in a soft tan as she walked. Her neck seemed slightly elongated, however, but nevertheless, her figure was quite athletic and shapely. And although her face retained the beauty it once held in angelic features, her head was bald, slightly wider, and enlarged. But the most obvious feature about the woman was her eyes. They were twice that of normal size, slanted, and as black as coal. Those who gazed uncomfortably into them felt that they were looking into an infinite abyss that could swallow one’s very soul. This was Captain Tara Nargis, who governed the ships of the mutant fleet.
Tara looked both prisoners over as she advanced into the room, yet did not stop. Instead, she went straight to her first mate, who was seated in the command chair. He rose from his perch, revealing his distorted body that boasted a huge hump on his back and imposing arms. He was the very image of a modern-day Quasimodo.
“Captain, the last of our ships have lifted off,” First Mate Martin Pearl addressed his superior.
“As soon as they join the fleet, have all ships lay in the course I gave you,” Tara spoke with her authority.
“That will take us to the last planet in our solar system. Do the Martians know we’ll be there?” Martin voiced his concern.
Tara frowned. “No, but I’m not going to take any chances. Should anything go wrong, we’ll be shielded from any probes temporarily. It should also provide us with enough time to make a quick jump into hyperspace—if that should be necessary,” her answer was candid.
“What about those two?” Martin questioned in a nod towards the two prisoners.
Tara glanced at the duo for a moment. “That is our next problem,” Tara confided with a little disgust.
The captain of the Ariana turned and walked over to the two prisoners with her first mate on her heels. As Tara halted before them, the woman prisoner dropped her head and began to sob.
Tara felt shame and guilt for the abuse the woman suffered in her capture. Janis Avery was a compassionate human being and a good planetary administrator. She didn’t deserve this type of treatment in the least, but the captain of the Ariana was bound to the safety of her people and her fleet. The dependents of those who built the Martian cities were in her charge. And because of that, she felt compelled to do whatever it took to get the information she needed.
“Miss Avery,” Tara spoke in a gentle voice, “I don’t like this anymore than you do. Please, won’t you reconsider your answer on providing me with the access codes for the au
tomatic planetary defense systems? I promise you’ll be set free immediately and reunited with your daughter—and no one will hurt either one of you!” Tara emotionally and honestly assured.
“Drop dead, freak,” the tied-up male security officer interrupted.
Tara, however, ignored him. “Miss Avery, you have been a decent and humane administrator, even with this animal as your security chief. I will not hold you responsible for his acts of terrorism against my people. However, I do have the safety of this fleet to consider. If you do not willingly give me the codes—I will be forced to take them—and I prefer not to do that! Please, give me the codes!” Tara pleaded to the young woman, her hand rose to touch the auburn woman’s face.
Janis Avery slowly looked up into Tara’s deep eyes, and saw sincerity and gentleness. For a moment, she hesitated to answer. But finally she then nodded a “yes” to the captain, voicing a soft “Okay.”
“DON’T DO IT!” Security Chief Earle Nyland shouted out. “You tell these ugly monsters those damn codes and I’ll have both you and your daughter beaten to death when this is all over with!” he threatened.
A look of fear froze Janis’ face as her heart began to pound to the threat of Earle’s words, which created a vivid picture in her mind. Janis knew he would most happily do it.
However, Earle’s threat stirred something different in Tara’s mind: pure hatred. She quickly walked around the metal pillar to face the man whom she loathed the most.
Earle straightened as Tara confronted him. The mutant’s mind pierced the security officer’s soul and looked upon him with utter contempt. She saw a heartless and cruel man, who had been a coward throughout his life. Wisdom and compassion that should have filled his gray and balding head was sourly lacking. Instead, twisted rules and regulations were all that it served, as well as the readiness and desire to inflict his pain, fear, and guilt upon others. For a man of sixty-three, he was simply a childish bully that had been transformed with power into a merciless tyrant.
“I have just about had it with you!” Tara’s voice became harsh. “Who the hell do you think you are? You call us monsters, and yet it’s you and your kind that tortures and kills at merest provocation! And you do this not only to prove your superiority—but for your own perverted pleasure!”
Tara went on. “I know the sorry truth about this world and the real reason why the people were mutated! We would never consider doing what was perpetrated on us! I know it was The Order that exterminated the original inhabitants of this planet so they could use this world as a living laboratory. That’s why they unleashed the plague upon us. I watched so many die while suffering the pain of transmutation. My own husband and children among them! Others became so violent they had to be destroyed! Tell me, what kind of creature can do that sort of thing to innocent and helpless people?”
Earle snickered and then laughed. “I wish I had a video of it! It must have been a real hoot watching your family turn inside-out!”
Tara’s eyes narrowed in an uncontrollable anger that fueled the darkest depths of her spirit. “You think being like this is amusing, do you? Well then, since you missed out on all the fun, maybe I can provide you with someone else to laugh at!”
Nyland’s verbal hazing dropped away into suspicion. The mutant’s dark ocular pits were locked onto his eyes and he knew he had pushed her too far. Suddenly, the middle Tara’s enlarged pupils began to softly glow, which then spread to the rest of her eyes. The glow became and aurora of increasingly brighter and brighter light, bathing the man’s face in their afterglow. Nyland then felt himself becoming uncomfortably hot.
Unexpectedly, the room began to flutter, but he tried hard to hold his footing. In his shoulder, however, Nyland began to feel a pain that increased with every heartbeat. His neck began to throb, and he saw the flesh next to it oscillating up and down. Suddenly, the pain became sharp and unbearable. He gasped for great breaths of air as the pain got worse. Finally, just when he could no longer stand it, a second head bubbled and burst out of his body.
The security officer was petrified as the head turned and glared into his eyes. It carried a contorted distortion of his own face, but one more ragged, primitive, toothy, and bestial. For a moment, it growled quietly while it seemed to be studying him. Then without warning, the head’s mouth opened wide and sunk its large sharp fangs repeatedly into Earle’s face. He clearly felt the teeth rip into his head and begin to tear it into pieces. Earle let out a horrific scream at the top of his lungs.
Martin painfully viewed Earle go into frightful convulsions, screaming and thrashing wildly about as he did. Whatever traumatic illusion Tara had planted in the prisoner’s mind, the first mate knew it had to be terrible, for blood soon sprayed from Earle’s frothing mouth and splatter the deck in large droplets. Within a minute, the man died in the throes of unsurpassed mental agony. It was an appalling scene that could have upset strongest stomach. Martin felt like retching himself and turned away out of antipathy and pity.
As the security officer slumped dead against his bonds, Tara’s head had drooped in self-disgust. She had just become the thing she hated the most; she had become an Earle Nyland.
At first it was total pleasure for Tara at watching him die, letting him experience what The Order had done to her family. But somewhere it the midst of his death, a sickening feeling over-powered her body in a giant wave of remorse. The darkness of hate then vanished and Tara heard herself softly crying out of sympathy. She was absolutely sorry for the act she had committed against another human being.
As nausea agitated her stomach, Tara fought the urge to throw-up. It was unforgivable, and found herself feeling faint. However, after a few minutes and many deep breaths later, Tara steadied her mind and body. After calming herself down, she stepped back around the pillar to face Janis once again.
For a moment, there was nothing said between the two, but their eyes were locked together in an unbreakable tearful stare. Tara, however, finally broke her silence.
“I’m sorry!” Tara’s voice was apologetically soft and trembling, “I didn’t mean to do that! Please, Miss Avery, there is no more time left! Please, give me the codes!” Tara begged.
* * * * *
The corridors of the Quinton were of a rough-finished resin that poorly reflected its grayish charcoal color. Only the numerous instrument panels and recessed lighting illuminated the passages somewhat, but it seemed that it just wasn’t enough. Long dark shadows were cast throughout its entirety. This was due to the deficient lighting being blocked intermittently by various equipment, hydraulic lines, and mechanisms at irregular intervals. They seemed to haunt the dim corridors in weird and unfamiliar shapes.
Yet, there was more to this ghostly quality than was seen. Technological specters sensed, probed, and identified any thing that moved through the course ways. Although invisible, their presence was felt as one move about the ship. They filled the air with a chilling uneasiness that touch the very essence of one’s being.
Not even Commander Trager, with his vast years of experience, was immune to this. As he marched to Admiral Darius quarters, an apprehensive feeling followed him. He was glad that recent fleet doctrines had segregated the real humans from the rest of the ship’s compliment. The section where he was quartered sponsored some feeling of life and warmth. But here it was different; it was cold and ominous—like walking into an underground crypt.
With haste, he approached the cabin of Admiral Darius. Two huge androids blocked the way, however, allowing entry by her invitation only. With some uneasiness, he stopped before the shiny black anodized guards.
“Commander Trager reporting to Admiral Darius by her request,” he announced.
“You are expected, Commander. You may proceed,” the closest metal sentinel dispassionately replied in a heavy male voice.
The huge android stepped aside, and the Earth office walked into the hatchway. It opened automatically
without him breaking stride. As soon as he stepped in, it closed just as fast.
Darius’ office was dimmer than the corridors that lead to it—and she liked it that way. Only the dancing auras of hyperspace travel brightened the office with any effect, streaming through a large window as they did. Still they quickly came and passed, allowing one a small interrupted glimpse of the ultra-modern, industrial décor of the room before they faded back into blackness. Trager thought that the chamber’s mechanized look was most befitting for his cruel and ruthless commanding officer.
Selena herself sat in a huge swivel chair facing the window. Only her hands and part of her legs were visible. They both knew, however, that she simply did not want to look upon him—a lowly human beneath her dignity.
“What do you have to report?” she questioned in her usual irritated tone.
“Admiral O’Donald has tracked the Martian fleet to Apoapsis Three: a system once used as a supply station and transit facility,” Trager dispassionately replied. “It has since been abandoned. He has now, however, new coordinates that indicate that the Martians are heading for a small binary star cluster located at the very outer rim of our galaxy’s corona. He requests further instructions on how you wish to proceed.”
“Excellent!” Selena’s mood swiftly became uplifted. “Have Admiral O’Donald rendezvous with us a Cramer’s World. I want to bring the entire weight of our fleet against Paladin when we move. This way there will be no possibility of any of his ships escaping. Is there anything else?”
“Yes, Ma’am. We will be coming out of hyperspace in a few minutes, behind the farthest moon of Cramer’s World. It should provide us with ample surprise.” For a moment, Trager paused. “Your orders?”