Mark McGinnis - The Simpleton

“Asleep… everyone’s in their bunks.” He’d replied without looking up.

“What is that?” Cuddy asked, surprised to see Tow speaking into the camera. “Can you make it so it’s understandable?”

“Yeah… wait… there’s a million damn menu settings with this thing.” Leaning forward, Kyle began tracing his finger along the top of the donut–shaped whoopie cushion—like using a giant mouse pad, much to Cuddy’s surprise. Suddenly, Tow’s words were now understandable.

“It just popped on the screen about ten minutes ago… that’s Tow talking, isn’t it?” Kyle asked.

Cuddy sat down next to his brother. “It sure is. He looks a bit younger there, but it’s definitely him.”

“Wait… I’ll restart it for you. I think you’re going to find this interesting.” Kyle quickly restarted the film.

Watching the three-dimensional image of his recently departed friend, Cuddy felt that Tow was looking right at him. As he walked about speaking, Tow smiled and said, “As we discussed in the three previous segments, the Pashier’s evolutionary story is both an exciting and complicated one. And one aspect, which we have only recently discovered, is filled with irony. What I’m about to show you has been buried within the vaults of Calirah, on the nearby planet of Darriall, for over eight thousand years. Our ancestors—both recent and old—did not want any of this to become public knowledge. They went to great lengths to bury the data… both figuratively and literally. Surprisingly, this fateful information was locked away by our own kind, and not by the Howsh. But things on Mahli have changed. Our forefathers are no longer. Our planet has been decimated. The Dirth plague has taken so many of us that very few now remain, outside those abiding in heritage pods. But soon, as the first officer on board an interstellar spacecraft, I will be part of something truly magnificent—a mission to bring us all home… home to a new life. But we cannot repeat the failures of the past. The secrets of the past must now be revealed. As our fleet of fifteen spacecraft await us above, we leave here not knowing if we will be successful. Our future is unknown. Either way, our contributing collaboration , leading to the demise of the Pashier, our wonderful species, must be exposed, for any and all to witness… to learn from. When the time is right… all will be revealed.”

“What’s he talking about?” Kyle asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but it obviously was important to him. He most likely would have been in deep trouble… publicly exposing whatever he’s eluding to here.”

The homemade movie next revealed a series of ancient-looking, highly detailed illustrations on spread apart scrolls not made of paper or parchment, but more likely on old animal hides. The scenes were beautiful—almost photographic in their depth of color and level of realism.

“That’s… that’s a Howsh.”

Cuddy nodded, studying the image. He certainly looked like a Howsh, and if so, those beings were once magnificent-looking creatures. His fur, appearing more like hair, was both long and lustrous. It cascaded down his elongated torso and down his arms and legs. To Cuddy, the flowing hair was similar to the long manes and tails on impeccably groomed show horses he’d once seen, trotting past crowds in Woodbury’s 4th of July parades.

The film image changed to another opened scroll, where six, equally magnificent-looking Howsh were illustrated. Each kneeling down on one knee, they were looking skyward, their arms raised—palms out—as if giving reverent homage to something above. What most was noticeable to Cuddy was the brilliant glow, emanating from each one.

The image changed again, to another open scroll. Tow was speaking in the background, like a narrator, but Cuddy ignored him, staring at a disturbing-looking image instead. A lone, glowing Howsh figure was seen standing at the water’s edge—perhaps a lake or a large river. Again, the arms were raised high. In front of him, suspended above the water, was a giant boulder. Still wet, streams of water flowed down its sides, dripping into the water below. Clearly evident, the Howsh, somehow, had levitated the huge mass out of the watery depths below. But more disturbing about the image was the three savages concealed behind him. Keeping low, their spears raised, their intensions were quite clear: Kill the lone Howsh .

“Those are… Pashier,” Kyle said, his comment more a statement than a question.

“Yes,” Cuddy acknowledged.

Tow was back on film. This time he looked somewhat older; more tired and thinner. Evidently, the entire filming had been one long ongoing work in progress.

“Hundreds of these scrolls have been unearthed from the vaults of Calirah. They tell a chilling story,” Tow said. “That things are not what they seem. That the Howsh, actually, were once a great and wonderful people… highly spiritual in nature, and also benevolent. Over the centuries, primitive Pashier tribes were instructed in the ancient ways of mind and spirit. The Howsh were kind and asked nothing in return for their guardianship. But as the Pashier evolved over time… becoming more powerful… they turned on their mentors. Hunted them down… eradicating many of them.”

The film image changed again—to an illustration of a large heritage pod that was far larger than the one below deck now on the Evermore . Male and female Howsh figures were frantically running toward the open pod, while Pashier males, each holding a lit torch, were seen already setting fire to it. Dark smoke billowed into the air. It was a horrific image, one that evoked an immediate emotional response in Cuddy. How barbaric were the Pashier?

The image of the burning heritage pod then disappeared and Tow was back on camera. “So, as you can see, there is no evil nemesis here… unless we want to look into a mirror. The Howsh have become what the Pashier made them—hunters upon the weak. Savages. The Howsh and Pashier share a past that neither race is presently aware of. Perhaps the saddest aspect of all is that the Howsh are unaware their short mortal lives were never intended to be thus. That by killing the last of the Pashier, their bleak destiny too may very well be sealed.”

Tow’s film disappeared from view—replaced with Kyle’s earlier selection. Cuddy and Kyle looked up to see Bob hovering nearby.

“Did you know about this, Bob?” Cuddy asked.

“Yes.”

“You displayed it here… for us to watch?”

“Yes. And also transmitted it far into open space… out to one and a half billion communication channels.”

“So… pretty much to everyone,” Tony said.

“Did you do that per Tow’s instructions?” Cuddy asked.

“Yes, I was alerted to the movie, with detailed instructions on where and when to transmit it, as soon as I came online. All other intelligent on board systems are tasked with the same directives.”

“And those five Howsh warships, now orbiting Primara?”

“They will receive the same film within forty-eight hours.”

The Evermore headed out toward open space—leaving the small fleet of damaged Howsh warships behind. According to Bob’s most recent sensor scans, there’d been no loss of life on any Howsh ship during their last encounter. With the exception of the command ship, all repairs would take several days, if not a full week. The command ship, on the other hand, undergoing minimal repair, would be ready for travel within a few hours.

Over the following days, life aboard the Evermore fell again into a familiar routine. Jackie idled the time away in the galley, concocting even more adventurous meals. Brian now could leave his compartment, if only to eat meals with the others. His swelling, over time, had diminished some, which enabled him to traverse up and down the stairs without assistance. Still a strange looking sight, his appearance was somewhat improving.