Chapter 17
An End to Hostilities
She’s unbelievable, she’s beautiful and she’s mine. She doesn’t walk, she seems to glide toward me arms outstretched, welcoming me into an embrace that promise unlimited bliss. There is love and comfort in her eyes. Her lips seek mine, her body aches for me and projects total submissive to my every whim. We are lovers, we are inseparable in love and life. I have known her always, I can’t remember when we were not one. We have always been close, touching and caressing with subtle looks and, ah, she, she, she’s melting. She’s melting, oh no, this can’t be, she’s melting. The stench, a part of me is melting, the loss is unbearable, my love, my beautiful love, my darling, my aahhhhhhhh.
Scott screams as he catapults into a sitting position. Sweat was running down from his forehead into his eyes causing them to sting and tear. These tears were added to the tears already there from the shear loss he had felt from the dream. This addition of tears caused a small trickle to turn into a river that dripped onto the bed clothing.
“Arduous at best, it was another nightmare about the android.” Mutters Scott. “I swear that damaged implant recorded the experience and is playing it back whenever I get completely rested and relaxed for any length of time. As a matter of fact, I think it only starts when I am well rested. What an alarm.” He continued out loud to no one but himself. “Ok enjoy, here’s your nightmare to wake you up, you’ve had plenty of rest.”
As Scott dressed he reflected over the past few day’s activities while here on this small but exceptionally busy planet. The busy is caused by the number of transients looking for their own personal way to make a fortune. The planet Carrier had ties with the whole universe in all types of endeavors. If it entailed anything shady like bogus real estate, ore, illegal drugs, entertainment, rare jewels, exquisite fabrics, unusual vacation spots, prostitution, slaves, warmen or assassinators, Carrier had it or dealt in it.
Carrier had a serious screening ritual for protection. This process insured that those searching here were actually searching, on a quest for themselves and their own personal fortune, not some type of policing authority looking to shut down an illegal supply point or activity. Whatever it was and how it was designed doesn’t matter, the fact that it really worked was paramount, and it did.
This was the reason Scott had chosen this place to hide. He was sure he could still keep up with the progress of the galaxy. He had only heard one person mention anything about Coordinators. When it was mention he saw two bar patrons go into some type of seizure. One of the victims had been the one who had idly brought up something about the faith of the Coordinators.
Scott thought there must be some common type of animosity toward his organization. What else could explain this concentrated effort to rid the galaxy of him and his associates? Everyone must subconsciously and violently hate them and what they try to do.
“What the heck did we do?” Scott thought and said out loud. “Our goal and mission were establishing an organization that is dedicated to peace and preventing the wars that had and again could cause the death of millions of people. Is that so bad?”
The view-phone screen went black and prompted in amber at the top, ‘Transmit video----Y/N.’ Scott thumbed the ‘N’ which prevented his picture going out but allowed the incoming video on screen.
The screen showed the lovely face of Jacque Cleboe, smiling, friendly but curious.
“Hey! What’s the matter Scott, not dressed?” The face with some sarcasm questioned.
“Dressed enough for the likes of you I guess.” Scott quipped while he flicked the video transmit key enabling his picture’s transmission.
“That’s better, I like to see who I’m talking to. I like to see their reaction as I speak.” Jacque smiled as he said reactions.
“Ha, reactions, reactions to what? Since I have been staying here, at your invitation, I haven’t seen nor heard anything worth reacting too.” Scott said as he continued to dress. To keep out the chill of the planet, Scott donned a lite thermal under garment that covered the full length of his body, neck to feet. This was by no means the normal wear of the well dress coordinator. As a matter of fact, nothing he wore was coordinator equipment. He had stashed all that with his ship hidden away in a place known only to Jacque, Fortried and himself.
“Reactions will come. There is a transient in the Crown Bar talking about coordinators and their being wiped out to the last man. He evidently is not affected by whatever affected the others and neither is his crew. There…”
Jacque started to continue but Scott was evidently reacting.
“Where are you?” Snapped Scott.
“I’m at my office.” The smile said.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Oh, is someone watching these individuals?” Asked Scott in a businesslike manner.
“Not to worry, he and they are being watched very close by one of my associates.” As he finished Scott was gone from the screen and the connection was broken.
In just nine minutes, thirteen seconds and six nanoseconds later, if you are keeping detailed accurate data, Scott entered the foyer of Jacque’s office. The secretary, a Credidon female named Noonac, seated behind her desk by Jacque’s office door, said. “Go on in, he’s expecting you.”
She spoke with a severe accent that brought back memories of his childhood so long ago. Her speech had all the flavors and tones of the old English cockney used by a street urchin in old London, England, 1700AD time frame. She sounded so much like his nanny, who had the same accent, it gave him flash backs and caused many warm memories to surface.
Scott paused as she continued. “You sure do look good to me.” She stated as she let her eyes rove over his body, top to bottom.
“Oh yeah? That is because I have had plenty of rest.” Scott said, then in his mind he thought, ‘so my dreams tell me.’ “You look good too.”
Scott said and winked at her as he open the door to go into Jacque’s office. He knew she could not wink in return because of the design of her eyes. A Credidon’s eyes are opened by a process similar to electronic light sensors that are sometimes used to turn on night lights automatically. In other words, when it is light out a Credidon’s eyes are open, when it is dark out they are closed. There is no in between. You would think they would be blind and helpless at night but nothing could be further from the truth. True they are sight blind but not helpless. They use a sonar/radar system in order to function in the dark. By bouncing an ultra high frequency emission off objects they are able to see. With this ability they are considered almost nocturnal, functioning quite well even when it’s dark.
“Mr. Cleboe, how nice to see you again.” Scott said as he entered.
“Knock off that mister crap or I will have Noonac seduce you in a bar somewhere in front of everyone I know.” Jacque explained.
“I don’t think I would mind that at all. Just kidding, What’s the skinny Jacque?” Scott asked a little more serious and sat down to hear the answer.
“You know how you requested me to keep asking travelers about those attacks on Coordinators and how that person, you had captured, reacted when you questioned him about those attacks. I understand he had almost died, going into convulsion when you questioned him about his attack on you.”
“I remember.” Scott said.
“About three times a day I have been questioning transit personnel ever since you asked me to and their reactions have been similar to your experience.” Jacque explained. “They would turn pale, if that was possible, convulse and if I pushed they would become unconscious. Well that has been the case up to today.”
“Today these three new transients from the ship, Climate, traveling from the Beltar Sector, were in one of the bars raising a little hell. They were not paying any attention to my subtle reminders of my rules and code of conduct expected in my establishment. I thought I would get their attention by asking some question about the attacks. They fielded all my questions without batting an eye or two or four or whatever nu
mber they had.”
“No reaction at all?” Scott asked.
“The only reaction was their joking about being in on those attacks but didn’t know why. They said the Coordinators were wiped out to the last man. They remember this strong urge to go and kill Coordinators and they lost about two weeks of time while under that urge.”
“Two weeks looking for a Coordinator to attack. Unbelievable.” Scott shook his head as he commented.
“They woke one day and the inclination to attack and kill was gone. The whole crew was affected at the same time both at the beginning and at the end of that urge. They were somewhere in the Beltar Sector when they recovered. I questioned two other non residents today after that and they showed no ill effects from my questions. They were not from the same ship and I could find no way that they might be connected. Sure, they had attended a party where the other crew was present but no contact was made.” Jacque paused and then asked. “Is it possible that this Climate crew might be a catalyst, a cure?”
“I guess it’s possible, a cure would be nice but I would like to find out the cause of these attacks. Is there anything else you can tell me about this turn of events?” Scott asked.
“I think it would be best if we go over there and see, maybe you can ask them some questions that would shed a little light on this intriguing problem.” Jacque replied.