The second ship bothered him. Could it be a human one? Historical records downloaded from the guardian indicated that the humans had achieved minimal space travel, barely able to reach their own moon with a manned mission. This craft was clearly beyond the technological level of the planet. They had barely managed to launch a few primitive probes toward the fourth planet and his Ones Who Wait had sabotaged most of them.
While he knew there was nothing he could use effectively against the mothership, this spaceship was another matter. Artad slid his hands into holes on either side of the command chair. His six fingers made connections with the controls.
A portal opened amidships on the Talon. In rapid succession, a half dozen small pods were ejected. The portal shut as the pods moved through space on an interception course with the third spaceship.
CHAPTER 17: THE PRESENT
Turcotte walked down the main corridor, taking note of the activity on board the mothership. He had Excalibur in one hand and the sheath in the other. Directly behind the control room, the Space Command troops were billeted in one of the many large holds. The doorway was open and Turcotte could see that most of the men were asleep, lying on pads they had rolled out on the floor. That seemed like a good idea to him.
On the other side of the corridor, through the open door, he could see Professor Leahy and Major Quinn holed up with their pallets of equipment. He was tempted to go in and ask about the weapon and whether they could do it — and if so, when it would be done. But he held back, knowing his asking wouldn’t make any difference. Either they would get it done in time and it would work, or they wouldn’t. He’d deal with it when the time came.
Turcotte continued down the corridor and stopped at the entrance to the Master Guardian room. The door slid open and he entered. He walked across the narrow metal bridge to the platform on which the red pyramid rested. The surface glowed from within.
Turcotte slid the sword into the sheath and the glow faded. He put the sword down, leaning it against the pyramid. Then he turned to the other objects in the room: the Grail and the thummin and urim.
Turcotte sat down cross-legged, his back against the Master Guardian, Excalibur by his side. He picked up the Grail. It was surprisingly heavy. He placed it right in front of him.
When he reached for the thummin and urim the stones began to give off a green glow and he paused, his hands over them. Gingerly he picked them up, feeling their warmth seep into his flesh. He held his hands out in front, as if weighing the stones. He lowered his left hand toward the Grail and the top irised open, revealing a slight depression in which the stone would fit snugly. His hand hovered over the opening, then he shook his head, putting the stones back down.
“My friend.”
The words startled Turcotte, who had not noticed Yakov entering the chamber. The Russian walked across the gangway until he was right in front of Turcotte, towering over him.
“What are you doing?” Yakov indicated the Grail. “I don’t know.” “It draws you, doesn’t it?” Yakov asked as he also sat down.
“It is a dangerous thing.”
Yakov nodded. “All powerful things are dangerous. And this”—he reached out and tapped the Grail—“this is the most dangerous thing.”
“I believe what I told Aspasia’s Shadow,” Turcotte said. “This will destroy the world if we bring it back to Earth.”
“Yet here you are,” Yakov said. “Yes.”
“What should we do with it?”
“If we partake, it will give us an advantage in our upcoming battles,” Turcotte said.
Yakov frowned. “But you said you believed what you told Aspasia’s Shadow. If we go back to Earth after partaking and don’t bring the Grail then”—Yakov paused as the implications sank in—“you don’t plan on returning to Earth?”
“The thought has crossed my mind. I don’t think any of this”—Turcotte indicated the mothership, the Master Guardian, Excalibur, the Grail and stones—“should be brought back. It’s caused so much trouble over the years and will cause much more in the future now that some of the truth is out. And if we partake, then we don’t belong either.”
“Then we will not partake,” Yakov said simply.
“We might need the advantage immortality will give us.”
“We haven’t yet. It did not help Aspasia’s Shadow much, did it?” Yakov stood. “My friend, do not doubt yourself now.”
Turcotte tapped the side of his head. “What about this thing inside?” “It hasn’t impaired you yet, I would not worry about it.”
Turcotte laughed. “You have very easy answers.”
“It is the Russian way.” Yakov reached down and offered his hand to Turcotte, who took it. Yakov pulled him to his feet. “I say we rest.”
“Agreed.”
She had failed. More than failed.
Duncan numbly watched the tentacle detach from the Swarm orb and enter Garlin’s mouth. He walked over to the gurney and picked up the crown, setting it on her head. Through the dried blood on her face, her tears had cut their own course, leaving tracks of uncovered skin.
She looked over at the tubes. Despite her best efforts, her chest began to heave as uncontrolled sobs tore through her. Garlin noted this reaction and went over to the tubes. He hit a button and the lid swung up on the one that was occupied. A puff of air escaping indicated the tube had been sealed against the outside environment. A body lay inside, wrapped tightly in linen bandages from head to toe. From the form, it was a human male.
“Leave him alone!” Duncan screamed.
Garlin ignored her, taking a pair of scissors and cutting through the cloth covering the head. He peeled back the linen exposing the man’s face. He was the same one from the early images, except very young, with unmarred skin. The man who had escaped the planet with Duncan. His eyes were blank and the body was perfectly preserved. His features bore a striking resemblance to Mike Turcotte, but younger.
Garlin walked over to Duncan, tossing the scissors onto a table. “We destroyed your home world.” Duncan closed her eyes. “When?”
“Seventy-two revolutions around the star after you departed on the mothership.”
She could only hope her son had been dead when the Swarm arrived. The scientists’ calculations had said it was doubtful many of those left behind would still be alive that many years into the future.
“We will show you, through your own memories and records recovered from your planet.” He took one of the lines from the top of the Ark and connected it to a small black circle. Duncan felt a spike of pain and then she “saw,” beginning with what she now knew were her own memories:
Hard times require hard choices. A simple and easy to understand maxim until the time comes and the choices are personal. For those who still survived on the ravaged planet located in the Centaurus Spiral Arm of the Milky Way Galaxy, forty thousand light-years away from the Sol System, the hard times had brought about many hard decisions, and the current one being implemented was not only the latest but also the most far-reaching.
Set in what had once been a desert area, but now resembling most of the planet, a massive alien spacecraft — an Airlia mothership — rested on large struts. Military forces patrolled the perimeter while thousands on the inside of the barriers that surrounded the ship waited on the final lots to be chosen to separate the select few who would be on the mothership from the greater majority who would stay behind. It was hotly debated among the inhabitants of the planet which of the options was the more desirable.