Lokians 1: Beyond the End of the World (5 page)

“
Yeah,” she looked at him,
expectantly.

“
Nothing,” he smiled. “Yeah; you and
Roberts head on out there. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

They saluted one another. The captain watched
them leave. He was the only one left on the bridge. Looking around
the ascetic room, the monitors over which soldiers stood to pass
out readings, the helm, the screen at the far wall; it all looked
so small, cramped. After an exhalation, he marched out.

Just outside the vessel, he heard Fitzpatrick
warning DeReaux that one day biting asses was going to come back
and bite him in the ass. He ignored her admonitions, and as it
turned out his night went rather well; word was he bedded another
beauty. Fitzpatrick didn’t mind one way or the other. She certainly
liked him, but it was widely believed she also preferred the
company of women.

Eventually, O’Hara and Day ran into each
other. A Quartermaster, Navigator Roberts, and Royce, who needed a
break from the lab, joined them. The five crew mates walked around,
breathing in the scents, taking in the sights, the sounds.

“
Wow… this feels so strange,” Roberts
remarked.

She was barely able to walk; with every
couple of steps she had to stop and gaze at golden trees, purplish
hills, the brown clouds drifting overhead. Scaly-looking birds
squawked, chubby, furless rodents chewed plants, and the wind swept
over them.

“
It was an amazing experience the first
time. It’s an amazing experience now,” Royce added.

“
Enjoy it while you can, people. Soon
as results come in, we’ll have a lot of work to do,” O’Hara
stated.

“
Don’t poopoo…Captain,” Day
snickered.

They were all in good spirits considering how
hard it was to believe what was taking place. Eventually, Day and
O’Hara found themselves walking toward the horizon, a wondrous
tapestry of foliage silhouetted by the twin orbs of orange light.
The others had gleaned the L.T. wanted a moment with the captain,
and slowly wandered off.

“
Permission to speak freely,
Captain?”

“
Always.”

“
Good, I can’t describe how amazing
this is. I’m glad we got duty together,” Day commented, knowing
full well O’Hara set it up that way.

He smiled at her, taking in every nuance of
her features; her smooth complexion, emerald eyes, her soft hair.
He thought back to a previous time, and knew she was doing the
same.

“
Been awhile since we had some action,
huh,” he joked. She hit him in the arm and laughed. “No…I’m glad to
be out here with you.”

He peered into the purple sky above. The twin
orbs were separating, indicating the pseudo-night was arriving, and
thick shadows crept over the gray rocks in their vicinity. During
the twilight months, the planet never saw real day or night,
mostly, it was just what the term implied, a brightness equivalent
to an overcast day on Earth followed by darkness reminiscent of
early dawn.

The two walked a little ways further, where
they found a secluded place with small boulders on which to sit.
O’Hara closed his eyes and rested his back against a stone. Day
sidled up next to him. He held her close, letting the scent of her
body transport him to a time prior to his promotion; a time when he
wasn’t in charge of Phoenix Crew, much less his beloved.

“
Thoughts,” her question startled him.
She felt him jump and giggled. “Sorry.”

“
It’s fine,” he chuckled. It was more
than hard to look at her. There was a degree of sadness in her
eyes, or maybe it was a reflection of his. “I…nothing,” he said and
smiled.

She knew. The respect in her eyes was
evident. He looked into her eyes then; they were brimming with
hope, awe. He turned to the scenery.

“
So,” she asked.

“
What?”

“
What do you think?”

“
I think this is great,” he
chuckled.

“
You just completed your first mission
as captain and discovered something practically unheard of,” Day
breathed.

“
We, I should say. I didn’t do it
alone.”

“
What next?”

“
We move to the next closest site and
repeat the procedure, pending Admiral Lay’s permission.”

She nodded as she gripped O’Hara’s arm with
both hands. They sat together with their backs against the rock for
a while. A chilly wind blew across their faces, the gentle caress
they didn’t dare allow themselves. After a few hours of
semi-platonic bliss, fatigue set into both their backs. Slowly,
they rose, and just at that time, O’Hara’s wrist comm. dinged. He
checked it to see the time, 03:00 hours. They looked at each other;
the wanting was there, but there were regulations.

“
Better get moving, Cap,” she said,
politely.

Their night ended, and they returned to the
Phoenix,
where they immersed themselves in duty. Before
morning rolled in, O’Hara received a call on his wrist comm. He
stopped short of his own bed, checked the time, grumbled and sat
down to answer.

“
Yes?” he sighed as his head hit his
pillow.

“
Test results finally came in,
Captain,” Mickelson’s voice responded.

“
On my way,” O’Hara replied in
resignation.

He was definitely intrigued by possible
revelations, but he was, nevertheless, exhausted. He rolled out of
bed, stumbled from crew quarters down the cold, metal hall to
elevator, where he pressed the wrong button. As the car made its
way through the shaft he leaned his forehead to the wall, muttering
his grievance. Then, he moved to the next lift, hit the right
button, and waited. Once the doors slid away, he entered the
cramped space, selected the button for the lab deck, and a moment
later, he arrived, and stepped out.

O’Hara pushed out his bottom lip like a
pouting toddler, and looked at Mickelson, who mumbled, “Uh, glad
you could make it, Sir.” Scraggly hair hung over his face, hiding a
degree of wear. O’Hara looked at him. “Sir?”

“
Well,” the captain demanded. “What do
you have?”

Mickelson pushed his glasses back onto his
face before speaking. “Turns out the beacon is over four thousand
years old, made from Element-115, and the markings Pinter, er um,
Nandy found were cross referenced with all known Human languages
including Cuneiform, Hieroglyphics, Sumerian, and other Native
American pictographs. Nandy and the AMS believed they had found
some commonalities in the Sumerian, story cylinders, and other
similarities from the markings at Machu Pichu.”

O’Hara blinked once before opening his eyes
wide. It wasn’t an expression of disbelief, but extreme exhaustion.
He stared at Mickelson. The implications were not clear.

“
And?” he barked.

“
Um, and Pinter, I mean Nandy thought
it most logical that the markings indicated the locations of the
other beacons,” Mickelson explained as he grimaced, pushing his
glasses back onto his face.

“
We already know the locations. Swain
got aerial photography. That’s how we knew where to find this
one!”

“
There were other markings, too,” he
whispered. O’Hara gave a motion of the hand to explain. “Some were
completely unidentifiable, but Pinter, um, Nandy said they
indicated something about the beacons themselves. The number of
beacons was a recurrent theme.”

That galvanized the captain’s curiosity.
Signs of fatigue slowly vanished, and he took a few steps further
into the lab. He looked around.

“
Where is he,” O’Hara asked.

“
Who, Sir?”

O’Hara tilted his head back and sighed.
“Where’s Nandesrikahl,” the captain asked, dropping his head in
both hands.

“
Oh. I don’t know,” Mickelson
apologized.

“
Never mind, I’ll get him,” O’Hara said
then called into his comm. unit, “Nandesrikahl, you
there?”

“
O’ course, Sir. Where do you need
me?”

“
Labs.”

“
On my way, Sir.”

A few moments dragged by during which O’Hara
glanced over the equipment. There were some machines that were
totally mystifying, like a weird, circular, white machine with a
long, angled arm. It looked like a miniature back hoe only it was
built into the wall and in place of a digging bucket was an oval
attachment with what appeared to be a black lens. The captain was
about to ask, but Nandesrikahl entered the sterile room, bearing a
refreshed countenance.

“
Something about markings,” O’Hara
commented.

“
Ah, best I figured there should be six
beacons, but according to the data Swain provided we only have five
spots with magnetic interference,” Nandesrikahl explained. “So,
that’s what’s rather odd, isn’t it?”

“
Please continue,” O’Hara replied with
a gesture of his hand.

“
O’ course, Sir. You see, unless the
sixth beacon is off world, or broken, it would seem there are only
five here,” Nandesrikahl remarked as he paced around the cramped
room.

The lab was little more than a storage room
with high tech, scanning devices, and the equipment brought onboard
by the science crew. O’Hara scrutinized more instruments. His
fatigued mind rambled aimlessly, yet a question came to him.

“
If the markings give the location of
the beacons, right, are there six locations?”

Nandesrikahl replied, “No, Sir. There are
only five locations, then something I can’t understand, and then an
implication of a sixth beacon.”

“
Implication? Could it mean something
else?”

“
I don’t see how. The language displays
the same image as the others; they’re obviously numbers,”
Nandesrikahl replied. The captain resigned himself to the only
logical step; await the orders of Admiral Lay. He then pursed his
lips and looked at Nandesrikahl, who shrugged. “Is there anything
else, Sir?”

“
Well, alright, Nandy, Mick, you just
keep working on whatever you can. As soon as we get the green light
from the admiral, the rest of us will retrieve the other beacons.
If we split up into small teams, we’ll be able to get all four at
once over the course of a day,” O’Hara stated. “Maybe each beacon
will have more details in that picto-language or whatever,” he
added with a flagrant flick of the wrist.

They saluted him. He saluted back before
everyone returned to their business. For the captain, that business
was sleep. Soon enough, the
Phoenix
was going to dock at
Presh, a moon station. O’Hara managed about two hours of shut eye,
and woke when the AMS stated docking procedures were ensuing.

Rolling out of bed to the snores of his crew,
he ran fingers through his hair, sipped from a glass of water he
kept near his bed, and mentally prepared for a rendezvous with the
admiral. Eventually, he made for the bridge, passing others
throughout tight corridors. That morning at the helm, Day was her
cheery self.

“
All set, Captain,” she punched
clearance codes to open communications on Presh and spoke. “Presh
station, this is Lieutenant Sara Day of the
Phoenix.
We are
here to dock. Captain O’Hara is on board and ready to meet with the
admiral.”

A voice over the speaker replied,
“Acknowledged, Miss Day. This is Ralphie. You are clear to dock.
Admiral Lay is ready to receive the Captain.”

“
You’re all set, Cap. Go show ‘em what
you can do,” she said with a salute.

O’Hara saluted in return. He took the service
elevator down to the loading zone. The ride down seemed faster than
usual, like time was in quick mode. He attempted to gloss over any
pertinent details, but suddenly, the service car opened. He found
the space was desolate; most of the gear had been left on Eon.

At the personnel egress, he waited a few
moments for the docking procedure. The red light over the door came
on and a buzzer rang out, indicating the doors were ready to be
opened. Shortly thereafter, the airlock’s door latch came open with
a metallic clank.

The airlock was a tight room used to regulate
pressure for personnel in standard clothing. That morning, both the
captain, and the admiral, wore dress uniforms, gray slacks, gray
shirt, black tie, and black, peaked cap bearing their respective
insignias. O’Hara stepped forward and opened the door, revealing
Admiral Lay. Immediately, he saluted. The Admiral returned it, and
they shook hands.

Admiral Lay was an older man in his
mid-to-late fifties. All his hair was white, and unless he was
outdoors, his hat was tucked under his arm. His voice was powerful,
but controlled, commanding, yet somehow calm, poised. The old man’s
presence shook the foundation of everyone around him. While O’Hara
had never been frightened of the admiral, he was careful,
respectful.

Fluorescent lights hummed monotonously, as he
waited for the admiral to speak. An inordinately long pause ensued;
it was one of those social nuances Lay manipulated for maximum
drama. The old man said nothing. Instead, he motioned with his head
an invitation to follow. The two men started off side-by-side for a
few moments as they passed some doors. Admiral Lay then opened a
gray, steel door on his left. He motioned with his hand for O’Hara
to enter.

Presh station was more machine friendly than
man friendly. Everything was bare metal, cold and hard, not
designed for comfort. The few men who called Presh station home
were hardcore techies. The bare metal and clicking computer
equipment was home to them. O’Hara didn’t care much for Presh
station, unlike the
Phoenix
it didn’t move, and it wasn’t as
colorful or lively as the asteroid colonies.