Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [45]
Morna looked at him. “I … I don’t think so.”
Amon swallowed back his fear. “Send out a message planetside, Morna. Whatever our enemy has in mind, we’ve got to mobilize against it.”
The minister nodded. “As you say, Chancellor. Only …”
“What is it, Morna?”
The heavyset man looked at him helplessly. “What do they want from us?” he wondered.
Amon shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
With that, Morna cut off the communication.
The chancellor slumped forward on his desk, burying his face in his hands. What did they want indeed?
Then he reminded himself that he didn’t have the luxury of sitting there and groaning. He had a great deal to do. He had to call a conference of his ministers and map out a plan of action … see to his world’s defense.
If he could stave off the enemy for just a while—a few days, at least—it might be enough time for Starfleet to respond to their first distress call. Certainly, it was a goal worth aiming for.
Amon grunted softly at the way things had turned out. A few minutes earlier, he had believed the escape of the transformed was the worst problem he would face that day. Now he knew how wrong he had been.
And then it struck him—the unlikeliness of it all. First, the discovery of the transformed. Then, the appearance of an alien ship. There had to be a connection between the two.
But what was it? he asked himself … knowing he hadn’t even the semblance of an answer.
Chapter Sixteen
ERID WAS AT home, eating dinner with his parents. They were glad and grateful to have been reunited with their younger son, though their faces still showed the pain of not knowing where he was or what had happened to him.
“It must have been terrible,” said his mother.
Erid looked down at his plate of spiced tubers. “Words don’t begin to do it justice,” he told her.
“The fortress …” said his father. “I can’t even imagine what that was like. And that wasn’t the worst of it, was it?”
Erid shook his head. “I felt like a freak. And I was always afraid of what I carried inside me.”
“The power,” said his mother.
“Yes. Even after I learned to control it, I was scared that it would come out when I didn’t want it to and hurt someone.”
“Someone innocent,” his father suggested.
Erid nodded. “Someone innocent.”
“And you say you looked … different?” his mother asked. There was concern in her eyes—concern for him.
“Very different,” he told her. “My hair was all gone. And my blood vessels had become big and swollen, and the flesh around them had turned purple.” He managed a smile. “I can tell you, I wasn’t pleasant to look at.”
Both his mother and his father were silent for a moment. It couldn’t have been easy for them to hear what Erid was saying. No parent wanted his or her child to experience such horror.
“But it’s over now,” his father said at last. “You’re normal again. And you’re home with us.”
Erid’s mother put her hand on top of his. “You don’t have to worry about any of those awful things anymore.”
He nodded. “I know. As time goes on, it’s beginning to seem more and more like a bad dream. And—”
Suddenly, he felt a heaviness in his arms and legs—a heaviness he remembered all too well. His mouth went dry with fear.
No, he thought. This can’t be happening. It’s supposed to be over.
Still, the heaviness didn’t go away. It got worse. And as he looked on, terrified, his veins began to grow under his skin.
“What is it?” asked his mother. “What’s the matter?”
Erid got to his feet, tipping the dinner table over, smashing the dishes on the floor. His father took hold of his arm.
“What’s happening?” he wanted to know.
But Erid couldn’t tell him. His mouth was too full of panic to make words come out. All he could do was watch as his blood vessels became high, hard ridges and the skin turned purple around them.
Except for the vessels in his hands. Those remained strangely, hideously normal. A glow began to come from his fingers.
Erid knew what came next. “Run!” he told his parents. “Get away from me!”
“No!” his mother insisted. “You need us!”
“You can’t stay