Maya

A Science Fiction Odyssey

Part Four

By A. D. Jackson

If you missed previous chapters of Maya, please check the archives.

COLD

The Valkerie swung slowly around planet Pluto. The crew stood huddled around nearly every view port they could. The planet was small yet impressive, a pinkish haze upon the surface diffused by a thin yellow atmosphere. Pluto did not look as icy as Truman had thought it would. Instead it appeared rocky, alternating with smooth sheets-seas of ice. It was brighter than one would have thought as well. The sun was billions of miles away and yet it shone as brightly as Earth's moon on a clear summer night. It looked still, and ominous. If not for the fact that he was searching for his daughter, Truman would have preferred to avoid the planet all together, let alone the entire mission.

The coldness of space creeps along the curve of my back. It clings to my skin, drilling into my pores, grasping at my skeleton. I am not a man. I am something less. Fear consumes the hollow of my soul. I cannot weep for I do not feel. There is no fear. I am fear.

He could feel the ship rumble slightly. Small attenuating rockets fired, adjusting the large craft in order to maintain its orbit. The vibrations shivered though Truman's arm that was clenching tightly to a support strut next to his cabin's observation window. He had been in the small room for three weeks, four...he couldn't remember nor did he care. The dreams had come to him every night. That was all that occupied his mind. And now that he was at Pluto, he knew the real trouble was about to begin.

A light rapping of someone's knuckles against the metal door of his quarters shook him from his thoughts. He let go of the strut, pushed off lightly and floated toward the door. He reached for the small intercom on the inside left panel. Pushing a small red button in, he spoke through the meshed metal microphone. The low hum of the ship's engines sounded in the background. The fabric of his uniform brushed against his body feeling cold. The ship's lights were on night rounds. A low-level spectrum of luminescence emitted from the overhead lamps. A sound came in through the intercom to his quarters. It was familiar. He'd heard it during the dream. Another dream. Someone was at the door.

He paused for a moment in front of the door rearranging himself. In his sleepy daze he'd forgotten his shirt and reached over grabbing up from a small cabinet near the door. Quickly he threw it on, tucked it in incase it was the Captain or Brickstone, the only other officers who ranked higher than he was. A quick glance in the mirror and he saw that he was as ready as he thought he'd ever be. He noticed his eyes. They looked more tired than he imagined they could be. They were swollen and puffy, dark rings faintly showing around the wrinkled crevasses.

He even looked slimmer than usual. It wasn't that much of a surprise, but to see himself in this condition added to his weary visage. No wonder no one had any faith in him. He was a wreck.

"Come in," he said backing a bit away from the door. The red neon panel above the door turned green and slid open. It was Henrickson.

"Can I come in?" he said.

Truman could have been mistaken, but the look on Henrickson's face actually looked like one of concern. "Of course," Truman said after making a severely conspicuous pause. He'd been caught of guard. Henrickson grasped the inside corners of the door and pulled himself in. He casually floated inward, supporting himself against the wall, then the dresser, then finally Truman's bed panel. Leaning back against it, he folded his arms, and crossed his legs, leisurely standing as if he were a street-smart thug on some street corner.

"We need to talk to you," he said. Truman looked back at him puzzled.

"What?"

Henrickson looked around, as if he were keeping some deep secret that no one should know. "After the confrontation with those Marauders, Kristal did a standard systems check of the ship."

"And?"

"And she found something strange."

Henrickson pulled a small data recorder from behind a pouch in his belt. He handed it to Truman, then folded his arms again, waiting for his reaction. As Truman read the information, Henrickson slid an arm past him and closed the quarter's door. Now they were sealed inside, silent and alone.

"This can't be..." Truman said looking up in astonishment. "They would have informed me."

"Well apparently they didn't," he replied. Truman would have taken it as a wise crack if the situation hadn't been so serious. "Since when did the UNASA Expeditionary force begin transporting Assimilator missiles on Search missions?"

Hearing the name aloud grounded the situation even more into reality. Assimilator. It could mean the end of everything they knew. "Did you check with the Captain?" Truman asked.

"Wait," he said. "There's more." He reached over to the data recorder and punched a small flashing blue button. A comm log of the ship's last twenty-four hours scrolled by. Taylor stopped it when it reached the vicinity of the encounter a few hours before. "See here?" he said pointing to a highlighted line on the small screen. "This is the primary communiqué feed. One transmission by Kristal, here, and the other by Roberson here." He scrolled a highlighting bar down to show Truman which ones he meant. "Now look here," he said. "There's a secondary code hidden on the first pattern. Barely detectable..." Henrickson stood back, almost triumphant. "To be honest I don't know how Kristal could have spotted that one. She's pretty damn good."

Truman nodded. Then he turned toward Henrickson, realizing what this meant. "So," he said. "We have a saboteur on board."

"Nailed it, man." Henrickson said, flippant even in a crisis. "There's some serious something going down and we're caught in the middle of it."

"So why come to me?" Truman asked. He already sensed it, but wanted to hear Taylor say it.

"It could be anyone of us. But by process of elimination, I'd have to narrow it down to only those present on the bridge at the time. The transmission came from one of those two transmissions, sent from the operations station."

"Can't there be an override or dummy terminal somewhere else on the ship?"

"Sure," Henrickson said. "But taking into consideration this is a new vessel where security is a priority it would take some serious know-how and time to override something of that nature. Time is one thing they wouldn't have had. The override protocols would take at least three months to program." He then paused. "And that would be a minimum."

"That would leave only three other stations then," Truman said picking up Henrickson's thought. He knew where he was headed with it. "Engineering, navigation, and Communications itself, or..."

"The Captain's chair," Henrickson said looking Truman in the eye. He was treading on very thin ice by even suggesting it, let alone saying it. "That's not what I'm thinking, so don't worry," he followed quickly. "But I did have my suspicions about someone else."

"Who?"

Henrickson hesitated, not wanting to say it. But he could not hold himself to silence. It wasn't in his nature. "Well, it could have been Kobayashi, but I've known him too long. I'd know if there was something up with him. Kristal has the skill, but not the time to do it. She would have had to somehow make the transmission while somehow simultaneously making a dummy transmission. She's good, but not God."

"Continue," Truman said. He knew who was next in line for the firing squad.

"There's me, but I for one know I didn't do it," he smiled. Truman did not smile back. "That leaves the three other senior officer's onboard. You, Brickstone, and the Captain. You...well you were in no shape to do anything then," Henrickson said attempting to tread lightly over that subject.

"And the Captain wouldn't do anything like that. I'd vouch for her," Truman said before Henrickson could speak the words. "So that leaves Brickstone."

"Something's up with him anyway," Henrickson said. "I don't like the guy."

"What's Kristal got to say about it?"

"She's still going over the logs," he replied. "And she's trying to decode the encryption." Henrickson paused. "But I just wanted to let you know before we get back to the bridge. I don't think all of the players are on the same team."

Truman remained silent as Henrickson casually floated backwards and exited the room.

"See ya on the bridge," Henrickson said. He saluted. Truman snapped a salute back. The doors hissed closed. Truman remained alone again. The command crew meeting was in an hour. Suddenly he was dreading the event.

***

THE TEMPLE

As she plunged backward off the edge of the research boat, Jenna would rather have forgotten every last second on the last twenty minutes of the trip to the area where she thought she had found the temple before.

They'd arrived an hour before making preparations to dive. Jenna avoided McGrath as much as she could. She checked the regulators on her breathing apparatus, then suddenly became engaged in a discussion with whatever person who was unlucky enough to be standing near her. But avoid him she could only do for so long. Finally he had cornered her at the far end of the boat. She had no escape other than jumping into the water. A bit drastic she had thought, but appropriate nonetheless. Dr. McGrath laid a hand on her shoulder. She physically felt the cold shiver's racing through her body as his stale tobacco smelling breath breezed across her face and ears.

"It's good to be working with you again," the doctor said. He face betrayed the sentiment. He looked cocky and arrogant. An evil smirk hidden beneath his lips.

"I'm sure you'll understand if I don't return the sentiment..." Jenna replied. She brushed his hand violently from her shoulder. "...Doctor."

The coward she thought. He couldn't even look her in the eye.

"I just want to make one thing clear" McGrath said. "Any findings we discover, we share and split fifty-fifty. Publication goes with my name first and you remember that the University and me as well as the department head are the ones who got you here."

Jenna began to chuckle.

"What's so funny," McGrath said.

"You," she replied. "A month ago...hell, a week ago you were ready to pull all funding from the dig. Now you want to take credit for all of my..." she paused looking around at the crew scattered on the boats. "All of our work. You've got a lot of nerve. I'll give you that." She picked up her heavy SCUBA gear and began to strap the heavy metal canister on her back. She was hoping he would gesture to help her. She was going to break his arm off right then and there. "Besides," she continued. "That cameraman standing behind you got everything you just said on film."

McGrath turned, shocked and immediately hollered at the young army cameraman. Jenna stood behind them both laughing. The doctor, panicking, shuffled backward launching into a question filled session that Jenna hoped would last until they submerged into the water. Lucky her. She got her wish.

The saltwater bubbles tickled her legs as they gingerly danced upward toward the surface. As she swam downward she could feel the pressure in her ears slowly increase. The sound of the under water ocean, water pushing against her ears was a peaceful change to the loud motorboats she head earlier above the surface. Fifteen other bodies swam with her in the water. Palmer, McGrath, and Mikitrick swam toward the front of the procession. The young cameraman was off to the side. The green-blue soft light illuminated the scene. At her side inside her ragged leather pouch sat the orb. She could imagine it's strange hum reaching through the bag, calling out to her. Calling for its return. Before she knew it, she had began to slightly veer off from the rest of the party.

The water was a rich glowing blue. Sunlight shimmered through the rippling surface. Off in the distance she could see the area where the Bimini Road lay. She could not actually see the large stone blocks, but she could see the light color sand swirling and moving along with the ocean's movements.

A terrible feeling grabbed her. A sinking feeling in the stomach. The orb seemed to be more present now, making itself known to her, reminding her that it was still there.

The vision she had seen-the dreams of men holding the orb filled her mind. The men in long white robes called back for her. "Return" she heard them say. They reached high with long wrinkled and gnarled fingers, stretching for the orb. It was the same gesture as she had seen the statue making in its eons long pose. Reaching for the orb. Grasping for it.

She checked the pouch again to make sure it was there. She could feel it's smooth surface across her fingers. It was slippery yet clung snuggly to the wet leather pouch. She took care to fasten the case again, stopping in the water and glancing around. Palmer swam ahead of her along with McGrath and one of the army soldier's she hadn't had the pleasure of meeting. A thug no doubt is what she thought. She was glad they were underwater so that she did not have to talk to him. Dr. McGrath too for that matter.

They swam along for twenty minutes, a slow procession outward into the sea. The ridge where the wall met a sudden drop off had led them to a hulking black abyss. Jenna didn't know why she could not have known it was there before. It was the orb she thought. It had to be. She swam toward Palmer and looked him in the eye. Downward she motioned. They had to go down.

Palmer's eyes widened. She was sure he was more than reluctant to go down into such an unknown dangerous situation, but Jenna know him well enough to know that the spirit of the adventure would push him forward.

He shrugged his shoulders. Jenna smiled. Palmer kicked his legs and bent his body downward. Jenna followed him. McGrath and the soldier soon were taking up the rear. Jenna struck a flare lighting the water in an eerie orange-blue hue. They headed downward.

***

The temple was as Jenna had remembered it. Sticking inconspicuously above the silt, an ancient stone monument looking as though it had not aged a day. The surface was surprisingly smooth and free of erosion. Jenna ran her hand across the surface, remembering the tactile sensations she had had a week before. Calmly she closed her eyes, validated by the finding in the presence of Palmer and especially McGrath. She didn't worry about who would take credit at the moment. For now at least she know that no matter what they found she would be considered "right." They swam around the corner of the temple that peeked above the sand. Jenna's memories returning steered them toward the small entrance of the temple. She turned to look at their faces before going in. All looks of wonderment combined with fear. She had felt the same way before. But she didn't care. She was going back in.

***

She wound her way through the lazy labyrinth inside. Taking care to make subtle movements so that she would not kick up too much silt making it difficult to find their way back. Even so, Palmer was swimming in the back of the group dropping flares at every fifty feet or so. He wasn't taking any chances. Smart boy, Jenna thought. Suddenly they entered the chamber.

Except for the missing orb in the hands of the statue in the center of the room, it looked exactly the same as when Jenna had left it. Fish swam through the room, lazily floating in the water, perhaps serving as the temple's eyes, or maybe they were minding their own business. Jenna didn't care as she pushed herself off the wall and swam toward the outstretch hands. A metallic rod looking like golden glass rested between the hands and reached high above into the chamber's ceiling. She doubted anyone else could hear it, but the humming was even louder. It resonated within her head, a singing, ringing, cacophony of melodious voices and the purest white noise. Floating upward she reached into her pouch for the orb.

Sliding her hand across the wall she felt something. Metal, a rusty clasp. She held it tightly, not believing it was true. No civilization here? she thought looking at McGrath. Not likely. The hole was small, but wide enough for what she intended to do. She slid her outstretched arm through the ring, then hooked it, holding her steady while the waves swirled and bubbled around her. She held the orb tightly reaching it toward the outstretch hands She lightly placed it in the statute. The humming ceased.

Through the murkiness she saw Palmer's silhouette. He swam fast toward her, kicking and holding the spear gun. When he stopped his eyes grew wide. Slowly, Jenna realized he was not looking at her, but behind her. She turned quickly expecting to see some predator. Instead she saw the altar brightly lit, a cascade of rainbow colors radiated in a subtle pattern. She turned to Palmer, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

She only needed to nod her head. He nodded back. Slowly they swam toward the statue. Jenna was shaken with fear. But assuredly she neared the orb and the statues hands examining the event closely.

Inside the room grew a bright white. Palmer touched her shoulder and when she turned toward them he pointed upward. She followed his gesture and looked toward the ceiling. It was covered in a strange crystal that had a distinct, metallic-gold color. Through the rod that fell from the ceiling a strange reddish glow seemed to travel down its length. The orb sparkled and glistened in the light. Large stone pillars ancient supports covered in sea vegetation were clearly seen in the light. A thick crust of coral made it appear beautiful. The sand, sediment from centuries at least, lightly floated, suspended in the water.

It was them that she noticed the water was colder than it should be. Much colder, as if a stream of cold flowed from somewhere within the room. Palmer noticed it too. He scanned the floor as if searching for something in particular, Jenna assumed an opening of some sort. They were small, in comparison to the large supporting pillars, stands, empty, but looking as though they once held something, showing of some ancient secret. At the end of the room was a large altar, a stone edifice rising up from beneath the silt. From the top of the room a bright beam poured down from an unknown source.

She felt the orb. It was pulsating, vibrating. Slowly she realized the pulses were in rhythm with the lights cascading around her. She knew it then. A hunch. Something she might have read in some hoaky fifties science fiction magazine. But she swam closer to the light. She reached into the pillar of light emanating above the orb

When Palmer saw what she was going to do, he almost panicked and swam frantically toward her. At the entrance to the back of the room, the tiny points of light grew brighter. Jenna placed her entire body directly into the beam of light. She was frightened, but fascinated. Acting rashly she knew-but didn't want to let this opportunity pass her by. She acted without thinking. She swam all the way into the light. There was an intense bright flash. Intense cold surrounded their bodies. The water seemed to be electrified, but Jenna knew it was something more than that. It was energy. She felt her mind slipping away from her body.

Beneath her, through the small opening in the back of the room, the rest of the army divers began to pour into the room. Mikitrick was in front. He swam assuredly toward her. His visage, stern. She could see the camera crew at the entrance, there faces in awe at what they saw. She sensed something. It seemed to taste their minds.

The light was an intense white. Then suddenly there was another bright flash. She could no longer see Palmer. He was a dull gray silhouette amidst a pure white backdrop. She couldn't keep her eyes open any longer from the luminas. The energy tingled her body. Then, almost as soon as it began, there was nothing.

Jenna Munro was no more.

© 1998 A. Diallo Jackson

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