D'Mok Revival 1: Awakening (2 page)

Mencari turned to Osuto. "And what about the leader you told me about, the one called D'mok. When did he come into the picture?"

"About two years later—publically. When our government tried to explain those reports concerning manifestations of strange powers."

"Like yours?"

"Yes, except mine was years later. D'mok, he was the first, and the most powerful. They said he and his warriors were the key to our salvation."

"How did you end up here? "

"The D’mok Warriors were sent to protect our colonies. We knew the Nukari were coming for us from their ever-encroaching pattern of attacks. After my manifestation and training, I was assigned to a remote colony."

"That doesn't explain why you're still here. You should be hundreds of years old, right?"

"My craft malfunctioned and crashed. I was in stasis--for a very long time. I never made it to my assignment."

"Then what happened to the colony?"

Osuto shook his head. "It's quite fine. For reasons that I do not yet understand, after destroying our homeworld, the Nukari left our space before completing their genocide. Perhaps because of a concealed presence, my assigned world was spared."

"Where is this colony?"

"Earth, Rhysus. The colony I was supposed to protect was Earth."

Mencari looked to Osuto in disbelief. “My Earth?”

“Yes. And you also have D’mok abilities. There may be more like you from other former colonies. We need to find them. It’s our only hope for stopping the Nukari.”

Mencari nodded.
Good enough—for now.
He spotted a deeper tunnel. Curiosity led him toward it.

“I’ll help you with this one,” Osuto said quickly, and moved ahead of him.

He didn’t understand what Osuto meant until they rounded a bend and stood before a hulking, crusty-looking creature with a dozen tentacles like a giant octopus that turned and towered over them as they approached. Mencari only had time to gasp before it rushed them.

Osuto raised his hand and projected a force barrier, which pushed the creature back. Seeing his teacher’s confidence, Mencari quelled his panic and was able to manifest another light globe. Shaky nerves skewed his aim this time, but the blast still managed to pound the beast against the wall, breaking loose several boulders. Swiftly recovering, the creature wrapped its tentacles around the large rocks and began hurling them at its attackers.

Mencari and Osuto dove in opposite directions as the boulders flew past, and fired back with a steady stream of plasma balls, alternating their shots, first Osuto then Mencari. The fight went on for what seemed like a long time to Mencari, but the beast finally toppled and lay still.

“Good,” Osuto said, and patted his companion’s arm. Mencari jerked away at the sudden searing pain.

“What’s wrong?” Osuto said, alarmed.

Mencari rubbed his arm. “A piece of boulder hit me.”

Osuto used his abilities to block off the newly cleared area of the mine, then said, “Enough for today. Let’s head back, get you checked out. When you’re ready, there are other things we should be doing.”

They backtracked to the airlock, Mencari occasionally wincing. As they emerged, Osuto said, “We’ll continue our training, but first I have a short trip I’d like you to take. I need a few things for the station to help track the Nukari.”

Mencari stopped walking. He was in a bad mood, his arm aching, his energies nearly deleted.
I’m an exterminator
and
an errand boy?

Then again, the prospect of a trip away from the small mining asteroid caused him a little twinge of excitement.

Osuto saw his expression and smiled. “Yes, I think you’re ready for your first liberty. You’ve done well. I’ll prepare my ship.”

He grabbed a few medical supplies from a storage locker and began to work on Mencari’s arm. “When you’re ready, come see me in the planning room.”

Mencari nodded.

Ready.
Would he ever be that? The aching of Mencari’s body made him long for a regular weapon, something with a button he could push. It was not easy being the warrior and the weapon too.

But he knew he had to learn and understand his new abilities. Given what he’d learned so far under Osuto’s tutelage, he had the feeling this was only the beginning.

“Start at the trading post. It’s the central hub for this region of space.”

Osuto’s words echoed in Mencari’s mind when his ship—actually Osuto’s—started its final approach to the station. Entering the landing path, he swung over the top, passing a grand, crystalline dome which capped the station. Beneath it, a whole city teemed with life. For the first time, a tightness ran across his chest as its shadow cast him into darkness. This errand had sounded like a lark when first assigned to him. Now, he was nervous. There could be tens, if not hundreds of thousands of aliens inside. Sure, he had interacted with a few alien species back on the Plutaran colony, but this would be on a whole new level.

Rolling the ship into the prescribed trajectory, he saw the full, menacing, nearly arachnid-like structure of the alien station. The crystalline dome capped an understated central body, that supported three massive, leg-like appendages. Towards the middle of the station he noticed what seemed like an unusual amount of defensive shielding. He wondered if something important like the power core was housed there.

Docking rays cut into the darkness, recapturing his attention. Engaging the autopilot, he lifted his hands from the controls. At least the docking procedures seemed familiar. The ship gently glided into a small bay inside the station, just big enough for his vessel. Osuto’s vessel. As the docking ring approached, Mencari Rhysus reviewed his objectives.

Mencari needed to find an expert with advanced computer skills to help build out the base’s capabilities. That, and Osuto had requested additional information on a few worlds he was investigating. But first, they needed an infusion of money to fund their endeavors.

Finding money wasn’t anything new for Mencari. The Coalition had always been shorting his resources and budgets. Only there, he understood the system and knew how to work around it. He was alone now, just him and an old alien, cut off as far as he could tell from any of the Coalition’s funds. In a place as huge as this trading post, there must be something that paid well enough to cover the extensive list Osuto had given him with a look of embarrassment.

Is this really ‘a liberty,’ or just grunt work?
The cynic in him chided. But the strategist recognized the importance of understanding a new environment. This should be a fairly low-risk assignment in a contained and fairly secure environment. Still, he would rather be back with Osuto, just the two of them, where he could focus on developing his abilities and tracking down the Nukari instead. And nothing else.

The Nukari.
What he’d read about them in Osuto’s reference archives only frustrated him more. All old information. Nothing usable.

The ship jostled as the docking ring pressurized. No telling what he was about to find inside. He gripped his hand and felt the slight tug of the phaser that sat atop his hand. One of the few prototype Coalition devices he was allowed to take with him, he hoped it would perform like the models he had helped test during its development.

The hatch opened, and he made his way through a narrow tube that opened into an empty corridor, much like every Coalition outpost he’d visited. What was different was the foot-tall, bug-like robot that skittered around the bend just as the entrance doors closed behind him. The diminutive object on some sort of hidden wheels careened toward him, making strange clicks and chirps.

The bug-bot stopped in a flash at his feet and began to whistle and groan. If it wasn’t so cute, it might’ve spooked him.

“You still in beta, little guy?” Mencari grinned.

He lifted his foot to step over it, when it blurted out: “Greetings!”

Mencari lowered his foot. “Uh, greetings back at ya?”

“Coalition-standard dialect detected,” it chirped. “Welcome!” Was it really quivering with delight, or was that a brief flicker in the lights overhead?

“Welcome to the trading post. I am . . . Bob . . . an official greeter brought to you by the Commerce Federation of the Be’Inaxi! Your signature has not been recorded here before. Is this your first visit?”

Mencari looked around for anything humanoid to rescue him. Finding nothing, he sighed and retuned his attention to the bot. “
Bee-in-ax-E
what?”

“Not familiar? The Commerce Federation of the Be’Inaxi are the gracious providers of these facilities. All hail to their great wisdom and commitment to customer service that meets or exceeds expectations!”

Mencari chuckled. “Ah. I see.”

“Since this is your first visit, are you aware of the offerings here?”

Great. My first alien contact here, and it’s a customer-service cockroach named Bob.
“Uh, no. Never been here, don’t know the layout.”

“No problem! There are over 3,000 languages from across our glorious sector represented among our patrons, vendors and service providers. As a welcoming gift, the Be’Inaxi would like to present you with  this . . .”

A tiny hatch popped open in one of the bot’s beetle-like wings, and two minute, fleshy blobs rose on a small pedestal.

“Simply place these in your ears,” Bob said, “and this neurotransmitter will translate any audio-visual sensory stimulus to Coalition-standard communications.”

Mencari took the blobs and worked them with his fingers. They felt as fleshlike as they looked. Somehow, that didn’t reassure him. Yet the robot had the same markings he saw on the outside of the station. A friend, not likely a foe. But what guarantee was that?

Bob chirped, “In the event no Coalition-standard equivalent exists, you will hear or see the communication in its native form.”

Was that a tone of impatience in the bot named Bob?

Okay, Mencari thought. Maybe he could try one. How bad could it be?

He eased the mushy blob into his ear. It came to life. “Hello . . . Hi . . . Yo . . . I see that Death has yet to take you! . . . Greetings, sack of mostly water . . . Light to you . . . Heeeeeey Gurl!”

Mencari looked at the bug-bot and wondered if it had just blown a circuit.

“You have just heard equivalent translated greetings in seven of the 3,000 standard languages provided.”

Mencari smiled. “I get it. I guess it works.”

“Do you have any interest in particular I can direct you to?”

He thought a moment. “Where can I learn about other races here?”

It chirped with what seemed a hint of pleasure. “The Antar Deck, three levels up, has numerous species with which you could converse to freely obtain information of interest! In addition, I’m sure as a wise customer interested in value that you’d appreciate the cultural repository, which has data cards on countless worlds that you can purchase for a fair price. Or—” again Bob had that quick shimmer of delight, “if you’re in need of exotic or rim-galaxy languages for your translator, you can quickly and easily purchase expansion matrices from the communication gallery.”

Mencari nodded, then caught himself. Bob was so friendly, he’d forgotten for a moment that the cockroach was a bot. “What about making money?”

Bob chirped out the answer, each sentence separated by at least one click. “The Derator Deck, two levels below, offers numerous ways to earn funds. Check the Wanted Boards for items others are willing to barter or pay for. The Add-Ur-Skills Board can be used to advertise your skills, for a small fee, to those in need of them. Please refrain from posting illegal skills.”

With a double-click of disapproval, Bob added, “Warning: Prostitution should be relegated to the Pleasure District four decks above.”

Mencari couldn’t help his snorted laugh. But apparently his reaction offended Bob’s sensors; the bug’s tone was less cheerful as it continued. “It is also common for independent solicitors to frequent the common areas with unlisted jobs. To this, our policy is ‘Buyer Beware’ and caveat emptor, and so on, and so forth.”

Yellow sensors along Bob’s back flashed, then turned blue.

Its voice noticeably cooler, Bob said, “A weapon has been detected on your person. All such devices must remain in a cool, inactive state. Any violation will result in armed expulsion from the station.”

“Wasn’t planning on using it,” Mencari said, impressed at the detection of the device on his hand.

“Very good. May I be of additional service today?”

“No. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome! Have a beneficial and profitable visit! The Commerce Federation of the Be’Inaxi welcomes you again to the trading post. To obtain further help at any time, simply call out. Good day!”

The bug-bot scuttled away, disappearing back around the corner. Mencari found the mentioned lift, entered and pressed the Derator Deck button. Even in artificial gravity, his stomach went to his throat at the speed of its descent.

As the doors opened he saw hordes of aliens waiting in lines before a bank of consoles. Above the wall was a large sign that read, “Add-Ur-Skills.” A cheery voice filled his ears when he stepped out of the lift.

“Welcome, Rhysus Mencari. You’ve reached the Derator Deck. Here you can find the Wanted Boards, where galactic citizens just like you have posted items they’re looking for. In the last five minutes, there have been 230 new postings, totaling over 50 hecta-coins to be earned! Or, add your own solicitations for items.”

He scowled and touched his ear, and groaned.
Free advertising with the ear-buds? Some gift
, he thought.

“And don’t forget to check out the Add-Ur-Skills Board,” the voice continued. “There, for a reasonably small fee, you can advertise your skills for potential employers to see. If you are an employer seeking specific skills or experts, we welcome you to search our vast, ready-to-hire resources—for free!”

The Wanted Boards seemed like a good place to start. He peered over the shoulder of an alien using it and watched listings of data scroll across the display. Stopping on an entry of interest, the alien pushed a thin plastic card into the machine.

What’s that card?
Mencari wondered.
I don’t have one of those.

The display went blank again as the creature pulled out its card, turned and shuffled away. Mencari stepped up to the display.

“How do I do this?” he muttered.

A familiar voice rang out. “Greetings, Coalition visitor! You have called for assistance?”

He looked around the floor for Bob somewhere underfoot, but didn’t see him. Then he noticed a small image of Bob in the corner of the display.

“Uh, yeah, I could use some help.”

“From your previous request, you were interested in money acquisition strategies. We have over 672,000 short-term postings requesting services for compensation.”

Listings began to madly scroll across the display, far too fast to read. “Hey, slow down!”

The scrolling slowed, and Bob’s voice said, “It would help to provide more concise search terms.”

“How about the greatest value for the least amount of work?” he said half joking.

The display flashed as a shorter listing appeared. “Due to your time constraints, I have found the top five entries estimated as best compensation for least effort. Of these, only the first one appears not to have a Statement of Intent required.”

“What’s that?”

“A Statement of Intent is provided from a prospective service provider, such as yourself, to the posting party informing of your willingness to fulfill their prospect.”

Mencari nodded. “Like a job application. Got it.” He glanced at the first listing. “Fire marbles? What are those?”

Bob’s voice turned cool again. “I’m sorry, you will need to visit an encyclopedic inquiry station for that answer. Would you like me to remember this inquiry for future use?”

“Yeah. Do that.”

“The nearest inquiry station is one deck above, Ein Level.”

Mencari reviewed the posting, shaking his head at what seemed a lot of money being offered for a handful of “fire marbles,” whatever they were. He glanced to see who had posted the ad. “A gemologist from here?” he muttered under his breath.

“Antar Deck, five levels up from your current position.”

“Thanks, Bob. You’ve been very helpful.”

The bug-bot happily chirped in response. He turned to leave, and Bob inquired, “Would you like me to remember the current listings so you can review them again later?”

Mencari grinned. “Yes. Thanks. And nice meeting ya, Bob, you’re pretty handy.”

“I am here to serve! But human pleasantry accepted. And the same to you!”

* * * * *

He slowed his pace, eavesdropping on passing conversations for anything that might be of use. If he hadn’t, he may not have noticed out of the corner of his eye the dark figure keeping pace with him. But when he turned his head to get a better look, the figure had disappeared.

A cloaked alien stood at the doors to the lift, nervously shifting from side-to-side. The doors opened, the alien entered, closing the doors before he could get there.

While he waited for the next lift, he looked over the crowd. He’d never seen so many species in one place.
Makes the Coalition’s Plutonian colony seem homogenous in comparison,
he thought. Yet even with all this diversity, everyone seemed to get along. He wondered if this was just a good area of the station, or if it was this way throughout.