It navigated through the stars like an artificial whale migrating across a cosmic ocean. Crafted in an oblong shape, with the eloquent merger of black and silver segments running along its length complementing its hull. At its center, port and starboard, spun two metal rings revolving around each other that bore resemblance to the theoretical rings of an atom’s shell.
The bold inscription “Ploiarion” shone across its bow, illuminated by hull lights. On its bridge, Captain Mensah stood on the alert as he had been for hours, at the edge of his smooth, circular command console. The joys of life had abandoned this once exalted soldier a lifetime ago. The suffering of over two decades of war with the Horaxians had become for him a carcinogen. His signs and symptoms were the war’s outcome; inconceivable, irreplaceable and inescapable loss, both for mankind and their Horaxian adversaries. The cause of this cancer, the source—mutual fear and hatred. All accumulating into one regrettable act—the destruction of Hope twenty-three years ago, and for him there could only be one cure. That cure became the reason why he joined the expedition project. He would have spent the rest of his day reminiscing on all that had been lost, watching on while the half dozen crew members manning his bridge, dressed in their white uniforms, performed their duties. But a major alert notification shattered his concentration.
“Captain Mensah,” called a dark haired, clean-shaven officer. On the shoulders of his shirt rested a black epaulet with three gold stripes and circular motif. Officer Ambrose held the rank of staff captain, second in command of the vessel.
“Sir, I’ve just picked up an emergency communiqué. It appears to be from Earth Command.” Something on Staff Captain Ambrose’s screen caused the officer to pause a moment, then his lips parted open as his facial expression altered. He rose from his seat and walked up to the captain’s ear.
“Sir, it’s a priority code Avalon,” he whispered.
Captain Mensah’s face turned to stone.
“Isolate the transmission. No one outside this bridge must be informed,” said the man assigned to command and pilot one of humanity’s most precious possessions to safe habitable worlds. His tall physique and thick, overgrown, black moustache added to his demeanor of authority, already denoted by the white and black hat which casted a shadow over his brow. Until now, things were going well for such a perilous journey. Yet in all his years of warfare, Mensah had only ever received one priority Avalon, and that resulted in the last time he ever laid eyes on the planet Hope. “Listen up people. We’ve got a code Avalon,” said Captain Mensah, addressing the bridge crew, then he turned back to Staff Captain Ambrose. “Relay the message.”
“Captain, we’ve been sent space coordinates,” Mensah revealed. “There’s also a request that we intercept and retrieve an object.”
“What kind of object?”
“Unspecified, sir.”
The captain stared at his second in command puzzled. “That’s it?”
“Wait, no Captain, but the rest of the message is encrypted and DNA encoded.”
“For whose DNA?” Ambrose snapped back.
“Unknown, Captain. Just ran a genetic fingerprint scan and it doesn’t match anyone on this ship.”
Captain Mensah looked down to scrutinize the coordinates on his own console. “Those coordinates will take us close to Horaxian territory; dangerously close. This could jeopardize our mission.” The left side of his face scowled at the thought of the Horaxians, of the lives lost under him while he once held the rank of battleship commander, and of the aspirations that would be shattered if they were to be discovered. “Must be one of their traps,” he rubbed his hardened face with his coarse hand.
“Negative, sir. Message has been authenticated,” said Staff Captain Ambrose.
The priority code had been designated after the atmospheric processor of the same name that reduced half of North America to a wasteland at the turn of the century. To Mensah, the irony of its title was sickening.
A young scrawny first officer addressed his superior. “Captain,” said Bailey. “If we intercept, we’ll be dropping in right at the border of the Matelot star system, there’s nothing for a civilian vessel there. The message was probably destined for a military ship. Whatever this is, it’s most likely outside of our scientific directive.”
“Even if that’s true, we’re not authorized to ignore a code Avalon.” Mensah paused in contemplation. “Put us on an intercept course, First Officer.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
***
With stealth, Ambrose’s ship drifted along the edges of the Horaxian Empire billions of light years away from Earth. Only a few of these majestic vessels had ever been built. It was an ark. Stored safely on board were the genetic material of all forms of Earth life; zoological and botanical, as well as nine hundred personnel and millions of human embryos in cryopreservation. Humanity feared the imminent demise of Earth and its colonies, and the arks were their only insurance of survival.
Along with organic cargo, the ark stored geological specimens, art, literature and cultural artifacts which once existed in the museums of old Earth, including detailed records of every field of study—from engineering, to economics, and much more. All so that when the ark reached its destination and began re-sowing the seeds of life, it did not have to start from the beginning. The vessel’s smooth finish and aesthetic dimensions seemed to go beyond its functional requirement. Clearly its architects had more say in the design than pragmatic engineers.
Up until now, the Ploiarion headed towards the recently discovered exoplanet which scientists believed could be a new Hope, a new Earth. But now, tensions on the bridge elevated due to the ship’s new course, though Captain Mensah maintained an unwavering stance.
“I don’t care how important this thing is. Maintain maximum safe distance away from Matelot-6.”
“Captain, we’ve found something,” said First Officer Bailey, concentrating on his smooth, splendid white console’s screen that outputted an ISAR radar image of space. “Starboard, approximately five hundred and forty thousand kilometers away and closing.”
“On screen!” commanded Mensah.
The first officer executed commands on his terminal, which changed the view of space on the bridge-wide observation screen and then amplified it.
“What is that?” asked Second Officer Cannington. The youthful, blonde haired man at the flight controls had just laid eyes on a small dark object roaming across the vast stellar emptiness.
“Can’t make out what it is, but these are the correct coordinates. Could just be an asteroid or debris,” said Staff Captain Ambrose.
Though Captain Mensah’s eyes were more impaired by old age, experience made his perception far sharper than his second in command. He focused as the object drew nearer. “Asteroids don’t have smooth surfaces and sharp corners.”
“Derelict Horaxian craft, perhaps?” pondered Ambrose.
“Sir!” Interrupted Cannington. “The unidentified object is cuboid in shape, approximately ten meters by three meters by one meter. However, long range scanners are unable to identify its physical properties.”
Bailey, the scrawny first officer on the helm controls, spun towards Mensah. “Captain, the object is moving faster than drift speed and it’s headed towards Horaxian space. If we wait for further intel from command, we may lose the opportunity to retrieve it.”
“Bring us in close. We’ll grab it with the arm.” Mensah turned to his staff captain, who looked anxious. “Whatever it is, it’s definitely artificial.”
***
A black, rectangular-shaped object became partially illuminated by faint starlight. It appeared metallic in composition and had unusual, indistinguishable markings. In front of the object’s path, the Ploiarion closed in and locked pincers of a robotic arm on to the object. Once inside the cargo bay’s bright white walls, lined with heavy loading vehicles and metal transport crates, the arm then eased the object down onto the shiny surface. Amongst the gathering of crewmen in the cargo bay, three wore hazmat suits and carried a barrage of handheld sensor equipment. However, most of the crew present were the ship’s security detail armed with rifles in grey armored, pressurized suits. From a secured observation room with a view of the cargo bay via a thick glass wall, the captain, staff captain and first officer looked on anxiously.
“All right,” said the captain, “I want every area of this object scanned. Need to know what we’re dealing with here.” The investigation team in the cargo bay heard his every word via the ship’s speaker system.
“Radiation levels are non-lethal,” said Tawran, the lead crewman in the yellow hazmat suit. He stood closer to the object than his two colleagues in white protective uniforms.
“Non-lethal? There’s no radioactivity or EM radiation at all,” said Castillo, the female crewman, wearing one of the white hazmats. “No electric charge, no lethal emissions, no temperature reading whatsoever.”
Captain Mensah responded from the dark observation room. “What do you mean no temperature readings? You’re standing right next to it. Is it hot or cold?”
“At the least, it must be cold, sub minus two hundred degrees Celsius drifting in outer space,” said Staff Captain Ambrose.
Castillo felt a sense of embarrassment as the ship’s second in command’s statement was irrefutable, so she checked her instruments again. “I can’t feel or detect anything. It’s like it’s not even there. The mass spectrometer can’t identify the properties of the object, but it’s definitely not human, sir. I can tell you that for sure.”
“Perhaps some kind of Horaxian weapon?” Staff Captain Ambrose asked.
Tawran interrupted. “It could possibly be a weapon, but Horaxian? I seriously doubt it.”
His presumption intrigued Mensah. “What makes you so sure, Tawran?”
“Sir, although our scanners can’t detect the object’s properties, by analyzing the structure of the deposited cosmic elements this artifact appears to predate all Horaxian technology, and all of Horaxian civilization itself. I’m not talking millions, no, I mean by billions of years,” replied crewman Tawran. “Captain, it’s older than the Earth itself.”
“These inscriptions are remarkable,” said the third man in the white suit, referring to the hieroglyphic markings impressed in the object’s surface. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“Wait a minute!” Castillo stopped, alerted by an alarm on her sensor. “Vital scanners have just picked up a lifeform ping from inside the object. Origins unknown. The object seems to be interfering with my scanners.”
The other two Hazmat crewmen took in deep breaths. As the sweat accumulated on their brows, a sudden low pitch sound emanated from the object. The top section of the cuboid began to alter, fading from black to grey until it became transparent.
“Captain Mensah, are you seeing this?” said Tawran.
“I gave orders...touch nothing.”
“It happened all by itself, sir.” The lead investigator then crept toward the artifact and leaned over to see inside it. The object’s grey internal gas obscured its contents but as it swirled around inside, the man made a startling discovery. “There’s something in here. It’s humanoid,” his voice elevated in pitch. “Can’t tell whether male or female, but I’m not seeing any movement.”
“I need a visual, now, right now.” The captain ordered, his forearms tensed up upon the revelation.
“Activating optical probe,” said young First Officer Bailey. As he spoke, he pressed the touch screen keypad which controlled a multi-jointed, mechanical apparatus containing an orbed head. The orb responded by extending its metallic neck towards the object. An engineer within the observation room operated a console that received the relayed footage from the robotic neck. He streamed the video of the artifact onto a main viewing screen.
“Zooming in now, Captain.” The observation room engineer said, enlarging the image of the alien object.
The men in the room focused on the monitor screen, analyzing the unidentifiable body. Through the grey blurring mist inside the cubiod, a body-suit became exposed. The armor appeared flexible in its fabrication, a carbon-fiber-reinforced polymer material that looked designed for the wearer’s precise fit. The black suit however, looked worse for wear. Some parts were totally broken away and some had egg shell-like cracks and evidence of severe blunt force trauma impacts. But the internal mist rendered the face belonging to the body still beyond sight.
“Whatever it is, it looks dead to me,” said the third crew member in full white protective gear, examining the lifeform in the cargo bay.
“Negative, electrocardiography is identifying what it determines to be cardiac cycles,” said Castillo as she remained focused on her life scanner. “There’s nothing on the cryobiological scans, so it’s not frozen, but the heart beats per minute do indicate that if it is human, it’s in some form of unconscious state.”
Captain Mensah leaned closer to the monitor screen, squinting his eyes. He analyzed the blood stained and broken black suited armor. “The cracks in the suit look like bullet fractures...it must have been in a war.” As he spoke, the smoke thinned around the humanoid’s torso and revealed glimpses of an insignia etched on its breast plate.
“Stop!” ordered Captain Mensah. “Pan the arm towards the left chest area.”
Staff Captain Ambrose also fixated on the insignia. “That's an Earth military emblem!” His eyes then opened wide at the sight of a white symbol on the right shoulder of the suit. It protruded three centimeters outward of the shoulder plate’s deltoid region. “That mark on the right shoulder, does that resemble…a sword. Wait...” Ambrose came to a frightful realization.
“It's a Black Guard,” interrupted Captain Mensah as he came to the same conclusion.
“Oh my God!” said First Officer Bailey. His mouth hung open.
Shock silenced the personnel of the vessel. All who were seated in the observation room rose to their feet. It seemed obvious they had all heard of the Black Guard, but an indecision descended over the subject of what to do about this stranger.
“The Sword in the Dark,” whispered Ambrose. “We need to get him out of there, sir.”
“Negative!” the captain ordered. “Bailey, I want more armed guards down here on the double.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Sir!” said Staff Captain Ambrose, edging closer to his superior. “I believe the DNA encrypted message we intercepted was for this man. It would make sense. No one has DNA records of the Black Guard. It’s all classified.”
“That may be true,” said Captain Mensah. “But if he is a Black Guard, we need to confirm his SPU is activated and fully functional before we let him out.”
Ambrose nodded in agreement, yet still frowned. “The thing that puzzles me is, you rarely ever see a lone Black Guard. They’re always in a unit. So where’s the rest of them?”
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