Ptolemy's Ghost: Part 3 of the Watchers trilogy

By W.E.B. Fox

Lana was most definitely not the ‘chosen one’. The universe had certainly not awaited her arrival since the dawn of time. The universe did not care. She did not, after all, take up very many atoms in the grand scheme of things. No, Lana had simply been the wrong sentient being, in the wrong place, and at the wrong time. And because of this, she now felt it was down to her to save the day...and the galaxy...and all the life within. The trouble was, much of this said life, including giant insects full of religious zeal, passive-aggressive crime lords and cyborgs with anger management issues, all wanted to take the life from her. And to cap it all off, her dreams were being haunted by the only person she had ever killed. This was not improving her mood. Maybe it would be better to just let everyone die. At least then she could get some peace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781257773527

Book preview

Prologue

They Grieved

They grieved.

It had been a very long time since one of them had died, so the loss was felt all the more. They were also at pains to admit that they had been foolish. Blinkered to the task of ensuring the object was not re-united with that dreadful weapon of their ancient foe, they had neglected a crucial fact. The fact that the object had enormous power in of itself. For this, one of their kind had paid the ultimate price.

So they grieved.

They anguished.

They planned.

Their goal, forward of this time, was clear. They must locate and destroy the weapon. It was well hidden, but they had a plan. If this failed, however, they would have to rely on the weak-minded one to protect them.

This was far from ideal.

But what about their new foe? The one that could kill their kind. They needed to consider carefully how to deal with that one.

So they watched.

But the problem was, she watched back.

Chapter 1

Ryan and Carlton

Lana lay awake in the master suite, as the Aphrodite sped its way towards the Bradle system. She stared up, through the transparent ceiling, at the walls of the nullspace tunnel. Whatever it was that the key had done to her, it had given her a much more acute perception of certain things. No longer were the shapes on the tunnel random looking and ill formed. Instead, they now looked like shadows, shadows of creatures just like the one she had seen on the Nemesis.

She was no longer hypnotised by these shapes, nor, surprisingly, was she particularly scared. Instead, she stared in fascination as they writhed around the ship. In a way it was they that looked rather scared. Scared of her.

Suddenly, there was a heavy weight pressing against her side. She yelped in surprise.

W..what? said Chris, awoken by the noise.

Lana felt rather sheepish at that moment. It had just been Chris' arm resting against her. It had been a while since she had shared a bed with anyone, so it was going to take some getting used to.

Sorry, I...sorry, she said.

Chris opened his bleary eyes, and looked up.

You really ought not to look at those things, he said.

Yeah, maybe you're right, she replied. She pressed the button to turn off the transparency in the walls and ceiling.

Now in the dark she tried to go to sleep, but her mind was racing and full of doubt. How could she, a petty thief, be expected to save all the life in the universe. What did she know about belligerent inter-dimensional beings and ancient super weapons?

Calm yourself, Lana, said a voice in her head. We will prevail.

It is worth noting at this point that Lana did not normally hear voices in her head. Well, except for this one. It was the voice of the key, talking directly to her mind.

I'm glad you're so confident, she replied, silently. And anyway, what's your story? Are you actually alive, or some sort of computer?

Neither and both, said the key.

That's a very helpful answer, Lana replied, sarcastically.

The ones that constructed me... the key continued.

The Huum? Lana interrupted.

Yes, Huum is a name they are known by, said the key. Their technology was far in advance of what your kind currently has. It is very difficult for me to explain using references that you would understand.

So, I'm too stupid is what you're saying? said Lana.

No, not at all. Naive perhaps, but not stupid.

"So why did you choose such a naive person to wield you, or whatever you call it?"

The reasons are complex, the key replied. But don't believe what the Fisians might say about destiny, the chosen one and the like. All frightfully melodramatic. No, you were not magically born into this. I selected you because you appeared at the right time, and had the right attributes and attitude for the job.

You mean I like to go around stealing ancient alien tech, such as yourself?

No, not at all, the key disagreed. "Yes, you were already a thief that had been instructed to steal me, but it was I that reached out to your mind and implanted the desire to acquire me for yourself, and the device."

Why didn't you just talk to me back then? When I stole you from Tanya's safe?

The time was not right, said the key. Plus I needed to alter you before I could speak directly to you in a language you could understand. The Huum could not see far into the future, well, at least not very clearly. They had no idea what sort of creatures would inhabit the galaxy at the time when I and the device would be called upon. I was built with the ability to adapt almost any life form so that they and I could converse, just as we are doing now.

The Huum had never thought about just fitting you with a loudspeaker? asked Lana, incredulously. Sounds like a much simpler, and less painful way than rebuilding me from the ground up, like you did?

"But how could the Huum have known that you would have had ears? And anyway, I rebuilding you, as you put it, was about far more than just us being able to talk to each other. Remember, you can see and kill the Watchers now."

Lana shuddered as she remembered the events on the Nemesis.

I guess, she said.

Now, please, sleep. You will need all your strength in the coming days and weeks.

I'll try, she agreed. She rolled over and cuddled up against Chris. He held her gently in his arms until she finally slipped into a deep slumber.

Field Marshal McDonald stared again at the rather grizzly 3D recording on his desk console.

I just don't see anything, General? he said, slumping backwards into his chair.

Trust me, sir, it was there, General Anders replied. "But the security cameras didn't pick it up. We didn't even see it until the Huum artefact somehow lit it up for us."

Hmmm, said McDonald, not sounding convinced.

Just look at what happened to Mr Goodman, Anders continued. What weapon do we, or any known species have that could do that to a man?

I don't doubt your word, General, McDonald replied. But I'd have to sell this to our political masters before I could sanction a covert operation to abduct Thyrod.

That's ridiculous! Anders snapped, anger starting to rise. With all due respect, sir, having to pander to politicians is exactly why we've never been able to squash Thyrod in the past, and now look where that's got us? All this pussy-footing around to save their seedy political careers has ended up with a colony seceding from earth control. That's not happened since the fucking war!

General Anders! McDonald barked, rising to his feet. I would remind you who you are speaking to!

Anders took a deep breath.

Sorry, sir, he said, in a calmer tone. I just get riled when we can't squash that man like the bug he is.

I understand and share your frustration, McDonald replied, also calmer. He sat back down. But taking Thyrod out right now could mean war. It's election year, and the president really doesn't want the boat rocked right now. We'll keep our eye on Thyrod, but we won't make a move unless he does first.

Anders started to say something, but thought better of it. He always knew McDonald was a political animal, but he had not realised how much the man was in the pocket of the president. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realised what McDonald was up to. The president was, as stated in the constitution, only allowed to serve one more term. After that, her party would need to choose a new presidential candidate. It was now clear to Anders that McDonald saw himself as a strong contender for that job. He would certainly not be the first Field Marshall to become president.

OK, I'll leave Thyrod with you, Anders said, conceding. But let me go and get this other artefact. It's vital we are prepared for the Watchers.

McDonald sighed.

You really believe all this stuff the Fisians have been telling you, don't you? he said.

Having seen a Watcher with my own eyes, and seeing what they can do, yes, I do believe. And quite frankly, so should you...sir. This is the biggest threat our species has ever faced. We must tackle it head on.

McDonald nodded, slowly.

OK. I'm not as convinced as you, but OK. Go pick up this thing if you think it's this important. Please, though, just maintain the highest secrecy on this. The last thing the president needs right now is senior military officers spouting prophecies of doom to the press.

Of course, sir, Anders replied, resisting the urge to tell the field marshal where to stick the president's election campaign. Thank you, sir.

That will be all, General, said McDonald.

They both stood, saluted each other, then Anders marched out of the room. Waiting for him outside the field marshal's office was Commander Thompson.

Judging from the look on your face, I'm guessing that didn't go too well, sir? she asked, as they walked together out of the high command's offices.

The guy's an arse, Anders replied. He's a fucking career man, and he's got his eyes on the top job.

So he's not going to help us with Thyrod?

No, he's not, said Anders. And he's so focused on his swollen job prospects he doesn't believe the threat the Watchers pose either.

So where does that leave us? asked Thompson.

McDonald's not so much of a fool that's he's going to stop us picking up the device, so we carry on as planned. Unfortunately, we won't be able to do anything with Thyrod until he makes the first move. Once he does, though, I'm going to slap that fucker down once and for all.

The following morning, Lana was sprawled out on the sofa in the main living area of the ship. Chris was similarly laid out on a comfortable looking chair, drinking a cup of coffee.

So tell me again why Dunc is spending all his time in his cabin, or on the bridge, rather than being with us? she asked Chris. I've hardly seen him since we set out.

That's Dunc for you, Chris replied, with a chuckle. He just wants to give us some time alone together.

He's a very sweet man, said Lana.

He is that, Chris replied. A true gentleman.

Did you ever find out what the business was about him being a prince? Lana asked.

No, Chris replied, shaking his head. Every time I try to ask, he keeps changing the subject.

I could find out for you, if you wish, Lana offered.

How?

I have access to the URO, remember, she said. Shouldn't take long to find out, once we're in normal space, and I can get net access.

I don't know, Chris replied, shaking his head. He's a friend, and I really don't want to go behind his back on this. He clearly has a reason why he doesn't want to tell me.

But doesn't that make you even more curious? Lana asked.

I'm really not sure, said Chris, shaking his head.

Well, I still want to know, even if you don't, Lana replied. Pod?

Yes, Lana, came two voices, simultaneously, from the coffee table.

She was talking to me! said one of the voices, squeaky and camp.

No, I think you'll find it was me she was after, said the other, a deeper, rather rich voice.

Chris looked down at the table to see two pods sitting there.

Two pods? he asked.

Lana sighed.

I just couldn't get rid of old pod, she replied. We've been through too much together. And I didn't want to part with new pod either. He's a top of the range Prutention.

Top of the range? snapped old pod. Top of the arrogant more like! I have the same processing power as him, and have had for years before his stupid model came out.

At least I don't have an inferior and insecure, bloatware ridden operating system like yours! new pod replied. And look at you! Tatty little piece of plastic cased junk!

Ooo, get you, old pod retorted. All puffed up in shiny alloy, with an over large, narcissistic label on your back. Old pod was dripping sarcasm.

Lana, I don't have to take this abuse from a scruffy piece of has-been technology that belongs in the bin? said new pod. I'm a Prutention! Everyone knows we are a superior brand.

Superior? old pod replied. You're a sealed unit! Once your reactor breaks, your just junk! Disposable, throwaway junk! At least I can be repaired. Talk about backward step.

Please, both of you, just quit it! Lana barked. Just try to get along, please, or I'll throw you both out.

You really want to put up with this? asked Chris. "I just have an XKWorld Value model. Does the job for me."

You bet! said Chris' pod, from the chest pocket of his shirt.

Oh shut up! said old and new pod together.

Two pods could be useful in certain circumstances, Lana explained. If I leave old pod somewhere, pretending to be me, I'll still have new pod to call for help and stuff.

But... old pod started.

Or vice versa, Lana added, quickly. Anyway, new pod, can you hack into the URO, once we drop into normal space, then upload Dunc's details. Just store them for now, and we'll look at them later, when Dunc's not around.

It would be my pleasure, said new pod, enthusiastically.

I could do that too? said a sulky old pod.

I know, old pod, Lana replied. You can help me next time.

Lana? said the calm voice of Aphrodite's computer. We are approaching our destination. We should be dropping into normal space in fifteen minutes.

Thank you, Aphrodite, Lana replied. Have you enabled your new chameleon paint job?

Yes, I have, although I have to say I'm not too keen on this one. All very stark, minimalist.

Sorry, Aphrodite, Lana apologised. If it makes you happier, I don't really like my disguise either, but needs must.

Disguise? asked Chris. What's all this about?

I'm rather well known on Bradle, remember. And the police are in cahoots with the count, so I needed to choose a new alias that won't draw the wrong attention.

Is that necessary? All you need to do is wave the key at them, surely?

Would all the police and everyone else know what the key is on sight? said Lana. And anyway, it's going to be more fun that way.

Chris smiled.

So what is this new disguise? Something less stand-out that Ms Chianti I hope?

Let us go and change, then you'll see.

Us?

Yep, I needed a disguise that requires chaperones. I've put your new clothes on the bed. I've also got some for Dunc to wear.

Chris rolled his eyes.

All right, let's see what this is all about.

The Nemesis was also now in nullspace, speeding to the rendezvous on Bradle-Prime. Anders stared for a long time at the text and pictures displayed on the console in his office.

So how did you find this? he asked, finally. Are you absolutely sure it's a reliable source?

It comes directly out of a police report, filed by a Sergeant Foster, Nemesis explained. It seems that our Lana had somehow managed to gain access to the Universal Records Office and deleted her history. The good Sergeant, however, managed to find a backup and copied over all of Lana's details onto her file on the Police system. It's a good job he did, as all those backups were subsequently, and mysteriously deleted.

She's clever, said Anders. Covering her tracks well. I'm impressed, actually. It’s funny, but even I’ve heard of the infamous ‘Alien Theft Phenomenon’. Who’d have though it was just our Lana with a cloaker. Don't go blurting out that we know this stuff, though. I imagine she would get rather angry at us snooping.

Of course, General, Nemesis replied. You can trust me to be discrete.

Very sad about her mother, though, Anders continued.

The traffic controller stared at his monitor. A strange ship, the like of which he had never seen before, had just dropped out of nullspace. It had sleek, beautiful curves, but these were at odds to its plain, light grey, matt finish paintwork. Paintwork that looked almost like an undercoat. The ship opened a comm channel and a male voice spoke to the controller.

"Bradle-Prime spaceport, this is the Basal carrying her most holy Tuzog, high priestess of the Order of Fundamental Life. We request immediate docking, so that her holiness can walk among you, enlightening you all to a simpler, yet more fulfilling life."

Roger, Basal, the controller replied, trying to keep a straight face. You have permission to proceed to docking bay One Four Alpha.

Dunc feel stupid, said Dunc, as the three of them made there way through the spaceport.

You, me both, buddy, Chris agreed. He looked down at the garment he wore. It was a plain, grey, unbleached smock, not much more than a sack with holes in it for his head and limbs. The only accessories it had were a belt, and some sandals for his feet. Dunc was similarly attired. Although made of the same material, the dress that Lana wore was a little more sophisticated, but not by much. It reached almost to the floor, and had long, wide sleeves, and a large hood. She had folded her arms within the sleeves, and with the hood up, most of her face was concealed except for her mouth and chin.

Dunc itch, said Dunc, pulling at his smock.

Will you two stop complaining, said Lana, in a harsh whisper. Remember, our religion shows a path to a simpler life. A life devoid of modern trappings.

Chris grunted.

Modern trappings? he asked. Presumably, bulk-capable starships are an ancient invention, then?

A necessary evil, brother Peterson, Lana replied, primly. We must take to the stars to spread the word. These poor heathens must see the light.

Please, Lana, said Chris. Can we quit with the role-play already? We don't need to do that between ourselves.

Yes we do, brother Peterson, she replied. You'll never know who of the poor, unclean ones may be listening. And remember, you must do all the talking for me. The high priestess must not be contaminated by the inane chitchat of the uninitiated.

Yes, most holy, Chris replied, rolling his eyes.

They walked through to the transfer hall, then boarded a transfer that took them quickly to the planet's surface. They then boarded a ground shuttle bound for Hamrock. Apart from the amused and bemused looks from other passengers, their journey was uneventful. Uneventful, that is, until they left the shuttle at Hamrock station and tried to reach street level through a connecting pedestrian tube.

Shit, said Chris, stopping. Police checkpoint.

Ahead of them the tube had been blocked off with a temporary barricade. The only way through was a small arch which was fitted with a body scanner just big enough for one person at a time. On the other side of the arch two armed policemen stood, briefly interviewing each person who walked through.

They must have stepped up security, said Lana. I wonder why?

You wonder why? Chris replied, incredulously. Maybe something to do with cyborg nut-jobs murdering policemen in cold blood? Oh, and giant, military robots stalking the streets. Not to mention there's a thief, who tried to steal the most precious treasure in the universe, still on the loose out there.

Oh, Lana replied. That.

Well, let's stick to the plan, said Chris. I'll do the talking, but if they see through these disguises, be ready to wave that metal potato in their faces.

As always, brother Peterson, I must defer to your excellent planning skills, said Lana.

Chris rolled his eyes again.

Come on, he said. They've spotted us. Let's carry on walking towards them, else it's going to be very suspicious.

As they reached the arch, one of the policemen called out to them.

OK, one at a time, please, he said.

Lana went first and the scanner beeped, positively, as she walked through. The policeman looked at the scanner results on his police issue pod, then seemed to double-take.

High Priestess Tuzog? he asked, frowning.

No answer.

Madam, I'm talking to you, he continued. You are High Priestess Tuzog, yes?

She will not answer you, said Chris. She, as the leader of the Order of Fundamental Life, has taken a vow to not converse with the unenlightened.

Unenlightened? the policeman replied, starting to sound angry. Madam, this is a police checkpoint. You are legally required to answer my questions, otherwise we will have to take you into custody.

Actually, officer, said Chris, sounding calm and pious. She's not legally obliged if it is against her religious beliefs to do so. I believe you also took a vow? To protect and to serve? That includes peoples religious freedoms does it not? Please speak to me, instead of addressing her holiness directly. I will be able to provide you with all the answers you require on her behalf.

I'm sorry, sir, said the policeman. But I take a very dim view of people like you telling me how to do my job. I....what? The other policeman had grabbed his arm and was whispering something in his ear."

What, really? he said, finally.

Yep, sorry, the other policeman replied. The superintendent would throw the book at us, if we didn't respect all religious beliefs.

Well, that's stupid! said the first policeman. I could set up my own religion tomorrow, saying it was my divine right to rob banks and murder people, then just go off and do that, saying yar-boo-sucks to the force?

No, the religion has to be registered as such, and any quirky rules etc. sanctioned by the secular earth government, said the second officer.

So, I should be able to interview her, then?

Nope, said the second officer. He held his pod up. I just checked the register. This 'Order of Fundamental Life' are listed, with a Tuzog as their spiritual head, and this 'no talking' crap from her is sanctioned.

Fucking shit idea if you ask me, said the first policeman. He turned to Chris. OK, tell me, then, what this whole Fundamental Life stuff is about, and what is it Tuzog here is planning to do in Hamrock?

We, as an order, shun the trappings of modern life, Chris explained. Preferring instead to follow a simpler, yet more fulfilling life.

OK, said the first policeman, slowly. So why come here?

Her holiness wishes to walk amongst the good people of Hamrock, enlightening them to our ways.

Let me guess, said the first officer to the second. That's also allowed?

I'm afraid so, he replied.

OK, he said, turning back to Chris. You and your big friend can come through the scanner.

They did that, and the scanner bleeped positively again for each of them.

Hmmm, said the officer, looking once again at the readout on his pod. Mr Christopher Peterson and Prince Duncan Bartholomew?

That's correct, said Chris.

Dunc not Dunc, said Dunc. Dunc brother Bartholomew.

Well, it says here that you two work as sales managers for Estevez Trading, not some whacked out religious order?

We've seen the light, Chris explained, quickly. Dunc...I mean brother Bartholomew and I have taken leave from Tanya's capitalist treadmill to follow her holiness' teachings.

The policeman grunted, unconvinced.

Tell me, officer, Chris continued. Don't you, too, wish for a better, simpler life, away from your daily grind of checkpoints and doughnuts?

Are you taking the piss? said the policeman.

He's telling the truth, said the other policeman, reading text off his pod. Say's here, in Estevez Trading's payroll system, that they've both been given extended, unpaid leave to, and I quote; 'save the universe'.

Ha! Save the universe? With this puritan drivel? said the first policeman. "Sounds like someone in their HR department has a sense of humour. OK, people, you are free to go, but we'll be watching you. You are, of course, completely entitled to your own beliefs and shit, but if you choose to become too aggressive in your enlightenment of the good people of Hamrock, then we'll be on you like a tonne of bricks. Do I make myself clear?"

Yes officer, said Chris, subserviently. Thank you, officer.

As they reached the courtyard in Hamrock, where the Ram pub was located, Chris checked the time on his pod.

We're a little early, he said. He glanced at a menu board. Perhaps we should wait inside. A pint would go down nicely right now, as would one of these burgers they've got here on special.

Dunc like beer, and meat, said Dunc, nodding his agreement.

Might I remind you, brothers, that drinking alcohol and eating dead flesh is against our religion, said the high priestess. Water and boiled vegetables will suffice.

Oh come on Lana, really? said Chris, exasperatingly.

Yes, really, brother Peterson, Lana replied.

Chris sighed and they walked in to the pub.

Anders looked up at the surrounding buildings, as he walked the streets of Hamrock.

Quaint, he said.

Fascinating, actually, replied Dr Fillymore. The style is in keeping with the late medieval to early Elizabethan eras.

You have to wonder why the first colonists chose it? asked Anders.

Quite, Fillymore agreed. In fact, I did a little research on the place, but could not find any records for the town's founding.

The town wasss fffounded billionsss of your earth yearsss before humansss reached thisss planet, said Issu, who was hovering along beside them. And it hasss been rebuilt many timesss sssince, both on thisss, and the other ssside offf the portal. Each time, it isss rebuilt to ssuit the tastesss of the incumbent ssspace going ssspecssiesss in thisss part of the galaxy. The town wasss last rebuilt to match your preferred architecture of the time, when it had become clear that you humansss were the next to take to the ssstarsss.

Hang on, said Fillymore. "That would suggest it was actually built in the late medieval? That was hundreds of years before the first, manned space flights?"

Yesss, correct, Issue replied. Your assscendency was ffforetold, and the previousss custodiansss were dying out as a race. Their lassst actsss were to rebuild this place, then await your arrival to hand over the most important of all tasksss; to continue to protect the Ctchtock.

Fascinating, said Fillymore, again.

We go thisss way, said Issu, pointing down a side alley. They walked down it, and at the end they found a small courtyard, and in that courtyard was a pub called the Ram.

They walked in and Anders scanned the crowds of punters. It took a little time for him to spot Lana and her friends.

What on earth are you lot dressed up as? he asked, as they approached their table.

General Anders, said Chris, with an embarrassed expression on his face. Can I introduce to you her most holy Tuzog, high priestess of the Order of Fundamental Life.

Sorry, the who of the what? Anders replied.