Chapter 853: HISTORICAL ARCHIVE

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Chapter 853: HISTORICAL ARCHIVE

"Have you been out here all night with her?"

"Yeah."

"He never showed?"

"Yeah."

"Did you really think he'd show up?"

"Yeah."

"Did you really think he could bring her back?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to sit with you till dawn?"

"Yeah."

"She looks nice. Sally clean her up?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry about it, what happened. To Lucy, I mean. I'm sorry, Linus."

"Yeah. Me too, Chuck, me too." - Fall of the Pumpkin Throne, Act I - Scene IV

The Treana'ad inside the Law Enforcement Office all turned and looked as the doors were shoved inward hard enough that they bounced off the wall.

"Guns. We need big fucking guns!" a shorter Treana'ad yelled, two cigarettes in his mouth, a cup of Clutch Brothers Coffee Supermax Baker's Dozen Shot Caffeine Splodagasma 42 Oz Coffee one hand and a Countess Crey Supersized Family Sized Ultra-Choco Bar in the other.

A poncho wearing gray alien went to step in front of the Treana'ad, who was waving around the chocolate bar wildly, to the point where the image of the insane narcassistic hyper-industrialist, Countess Crey herself, looked like she wanted to vomit.

"Now see here, my good..." the Gray started to say, his voice huffy, as he crossed his arms and planted his feet in front of the oncoming Treana'ad.

"Out my way," the Treana'ad grunted, followed by a racial slur that left other people gasping. The Treana'ad just rudely shoved the gray aside, stopping for a moment to stare at a picture of a Treana'ad Matron surrounded by birds with blue feet and long beaks. "Huh-huh," the Treana'ad said. "Nice boobies."

"Come on, champ," another Treana'ad yelled, walking through the still open doors and looking around like he owned the place. The Treana'ad, which every being present recognized, waved one hand. "Follow me."

The other one nodded as he tore his gaze from the poster and followed the war hero.

Pushing into the office, P'Thok looked at the other Treana'ad and nodded to himself.

"Here," P'Thok said, handing the other Treana'ad a candy bar. "Exposure to phasic powers can cause blood sugar depression in Treana'ad."

Mal'Kawp nodded, grabbing the candybar and shoving it into his mandibles. He chewed twice and swallowed.

"Try this," P'Thok said, handing over another cup of coffee.

"Uh-huh," Mal'Kawp said, grabbing the cup and swilling down the coffee.

"Those were gourd guardians," P'Thok said, moving over to the printer. He typed briefly. "AKA Pumpkinheads." the printer whirred an a 2.5D image of the creature appeared. "Never seen them on Smokey Cone though."

"That's them," Mal'Kawp said, looking around. He spotted a donut, grabbed it, and jammed it into his mouth, chewing rapidly.

"Knew a guy who served with a guy who hatched with a guy who saw a gourd guardian rip through a main battle tank. He described them pretty well and last year, when I was investigating the last few murders, I got a description of one," P'Thok said. He moved over and tacked the image onto the board. "Which means, they're linked."

"Right. Tank. Right," Mal'Kawp said. He blinked, first the left eye, then the right. "Linked to the malevolent gourd murders. Uh-huh."

"You're keeping up, good," P'Thok said. He handed Mal'Kawp another candybar, a genuine Terran Traumabolone Megabar. "This is where I lose everyone else."

Mal'Kawp just nodded, blinking first one eye, then the other.

"I've repeatedly been to Terra. I've seen the Kel-Tawk Alholowmesse Desu Murtoes celebrated," he said. He looked at Mal'Kawp. "You saw something I had feared, last year, was just a hallucination brought on by my overdose of ice cream all those years ago."

"Uh-huh. Overdose," Mal'Kawp said.

"Malevolently carved gourds that use their vines for locomotion," P'Thok said, slapping a drawing. The security footage from the Matron's manor showed nothing more than security forces fighting and dying to an invisible foe.

"Uh-huh, carved crawlers," Mal'Kawp said around a mouthful of berry filling chocolate glazed donut.

"Gourd guardians of legend," P'Thok slapped the other drawing and the printout pinned to the board.

"Pumpkinheads," Mal'Kawp swallowed the donut and took a long drink of his coffee, stared at the bottom of the empty cup and threw it over his shoulder.

"Moo moo murders," P'Thok slapped the board.

"Poor moo moos," Mal'Kawp poured himself a new cup of coffee.

"Now a milk maid kidnapped and obviously intended for some bloody, nefarious purpose," P'Thok slapped a print-out of the maid, taken from his datalink headset, onto the board and pinned it.

"Right. Milk maid," Mal'Kawp said, dropping his cigarette in an empty cup.

P'Thok moved back and stared at the board. "What do we see?"

Mal'Kawp stood there, staring, his mouth partially open. P'Thok lit two cigarettes, handing the rookie one.

They both saw it at the same time.

"R'vnkl'awth Estate!" they blurted out.

WE WILL RETURN AFTER THESE COMMERCIAL MESSAGES

SHADE SPOTTED OR SUSPECTED? DIAL S11!

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

Spot one of the things that ended life as we knew it? Just call this number. I'm sure that'll help.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

HAT WEARING AUNTIE

It isn't that bad.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

Really? We're not even sure why our channel still works, much less why there isn't shades in it. The majority of the galactic spur is looking at FTL travel and commo being haunted for generations to come. We've got ghostly murderous Terrans on hundreds, thousands of planet.

And it's not that bad?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

RIGEL

No, not really.

The Atrekna are, at least, devastated with no ability to effect things any more than we have.

The PAWM are surrendering, killing each other, or heading for far off galaxies.

There's peace and reconciliation between the Lanaktallan and everyone else.

You have a gun and the ability to tell someone else "No. You move." now.

And Cowboy Bill lives on in our hearts forever.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

PUBVIAN DOMINION

And we get to watch Trea go absolutely spit frothing mad during the commercials.

I mean, it's always fun to watch.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TNVARU GESTALT

I'm just worried.

What if another threat appears.

How will we face it if we cannot assist one another?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CRUSADE

Who says we cannot.

The spaces between space where we journey has always been full of things beyond the understanding of mortals.

Shades are nothing compared to the whispers of the endless purple sky or the screams within the endless flames.

Call out for us and we will respond.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

AKLTAK GESTALT

I'm not sure if that's better or worse.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

HAT WEARING AUNTIE

The DOG2.0 lifted its head and sniffed the air. It moves slowly, stiffly, its biological components slowly succumbing to the Friend Plague. Still, the small DOG2.0 wagged its tail as it moved around P'Thok and Mal'Kawp in a circle, sniffing the air.

HAT>It's heartbreaking to see. >

TELKAN>yeah, but they're back now.

CRUSADE>SILENCE!

The estate was lavishly built. Replica Terran Age of Conquest buildings to form a replica village where the moo moos would be most comfortable. It would have been the envy of all of the other matrons if Matron Sa'Rah hadn't changed her mind and decided to build an estate with early Neon-Chrome Age aesthetics instead.

There was a blacksmith's shop, woodcarver's studio, houses, everything a Terran Age of Conquest village would need.

It was just deserted.

"I thought he was meeting us here," Mal'Kawp asked.

"I thought so too," P'Thok looked around slowly.

X.A.V.A. barked suddenly, lifting up one paw and pointing with his little black nose.

A cloud of smoke suddenly erupted, then began to fizz, pop, and crackle.

It faded out to reveal a tall, gangly appearing Treana'ad warrior with a gray carapace. It held a bottle in one hand and a tome bound in stitched together leather of different shades in the other hand.

"Anyone want a beer?" the warrior asked.

"P'Thok, Private Investigator and Deputized Planetary Law Enforcement Officer," P'Thok said.

"Mal'Kawp, Planetary Law Enforcement Officer," the other Treana'ad said before cramming a candybar in his mouth.

"J'Rad, Warrior of the R'vnkl'awth line," the Treana'ad said. It tossed the beer to P'Thok, then made a flourish, three small crystal orbs appearing in the warrior's hand. With a flicker of his fingers, the gray warrior began making the balls spin in his hand. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"We are investigating the Moo Moo Massacre Murders," P'Thok said, looking around suspiciously.

The DOG2.0 barked.

"By all means, come and examine the estate, if you wish," J'Rad stated, turning away. "You'll find neither babes in arms nor confusing labyrinths here."

P'Thok gave Mal'Kawp a look that said to be careful and followed the other warrior as the gray Treana'ad led the two toward the buildings.

"We established this as both a tourist attraction and a moo moo enclave," J'Rad stated. "However, the Matron, wise and powerful, decided to go with the neon and chrome of a later era. I feel it gives the milk a bitter flavor, but she prefers it."

P'Thok just nodded, looking around. He pointed out at a field. "You grow gourds?"

J'Rad nodded. "Indeed. Pumpkin Spice Bitter Smash is one of R'vnkl'awth's signature flavors," he said.

The X.A.V.A. kept close to P'Thok, sniffing the air as they moved forward.

"What brings you to this estate?" J'Rad asked.

"A friend left a message on my answering machine, told me he saw something out here," P'Thok said slowly, watching as J'Rad smoothly moved the sparkling crystal balls from one hand to another.

**something smell wrong danger maybe** X.A.V.A. put on P'Thok's eyepiece.

"There are lots of things to see out here," J'Rad said.

"I heard that the R'vnkl'awth house has had a few problems they're finally resolving," P'Thok said.

J'Rad nodded. "A few. One of the Matrons was executed by the Smokey Cone Great Queens two hundred years ago. We are trying to overcome that stigma on our house name."

"Hmm," P'Thok said. He pointed at where there were fat, feathered fowls sitting around. "Those are turkeys, are they not?"

J'Rad signified pleasure. "Yes. Considered a delicacy. We feed them nitrogen fixing tubers to give them an even sweeter and richer taste."

"I heard that you make turkey jerky here," P'Thok said.

"Ah, over here," J'Rad said. He motioned to where there was robotic tenders watching over smokers. "Carefully smoked turkey jerky, using sequoia redwoods imported from Terra itself since the war. We use sequoia, black oak for bitterness, and a few other woods for the smoking process. I'd say more, but it's a family secret, you understand."

The last was said with a slight wink.

P'Thok looked at the sun.

It was almost down.

"Well, gentlemen, have you seen everything you wanted to see?" J'Rad asked.

P'Thok nodded slowly as he walked through the smoke.

There was a familiar scent.

One he recognized.

J'Rad led them through the recreation village, stopping to wave at the manor where the Matron would have lived, and now he lived. At Mal'Kawp's question he admitted that he wrote detective stories with a supernatural twist.

The DOG2.0 gave a sniff at the book when J'Rad set it on a counter to explain how glass was made from sand by robots dressed as Terrans.

P'Thok kept his expression blank when the X.A.V.A. reported on it.

During the tour and the lectures Mal'Kawp just nodded as he lit a cigarette and chewed on a Countess Crey Supa-Dyne Supah Bar.

The sun was an angry orange as the red sun slipped below the horizon.

"Well, perhaps I could arrange a better tour later, gentlemen," J'Rad said.

P'Thok nodded and followed the gray carapaced warrior out toward where the black grav-car was waiting.

They were almost there, J'Rad spinning the orbs in one hand while using his bladearms to nervously tap the book he held in his other hand. P'Thok suddenly stopped, reaching down and scratching the petting nerve between the DOG2.0's ears.

"An interesting tour. Thank you," P'Thok said, slowly straightening up.

"Of course," J'Rad said.

"You know," P'Thok said, staring at the sunset. "Smokey Cone is one of those places that keeps topping itself - just when you think you'll never see a sunrise as beautiful, there comes a sunset that even the High Matrons can only imagine. It kind of makes these jobs easier to take."

X.A.V.A. moved away quickly, apparently barking at a group of leaves swirling as the nitrogen sweetened wind carried them away.

"What jobs?" J'Rad asked.

"Ones like this one," P'Thok said. He bent down, picked up a stick, and threw it. "I noticed you didn't mention one thing."

"Yes?" J'Rad said, cocking his antenna in amusement.

"Your ancestral matron," P'Thok said.

"What about her?" The jocularity was suddenly gone and the crystal balls went still.

"She was executed for Hellspace worship, was she not?" P'Thok asked.

"So?" the single word was a snarl that contained decades, centuries of bitterness and resentment. "I suppose you believe the lies that she was a witch."

"That's her diary, right there," P'Thok said. "I read the news article about it being found, bound in wood, right after the War of Terran Aggression ended."

"What does that have to do with anything?" J'Rad snarled.

"Maybe nothing," P'Thok said. He took several steps. "Except..."

"What?" J'Rad snapped.

"The leather on it," P'Thok said.

"What about it?" J'Rad asked.

"I noticed that it's missing a section, needs a piece in the middle of the palest section," P'Thok said. He lit a cigarette, puffing on it. He held up a credit stick, balancing it on one finger. "Pale leather. It reminds me of something."

"What?" J'Rath's temper was obviosly fraying as the light began to vanish.

"Milk maids. The paler the skin, the more golden the hair, the more in demand they are. Robust of frame, soft of hand, properly plumped, rosey cheeks, cherry lips, pale alabaster of skin, platinum or gold of hair," P'Thok said softly, quoting the most common employment request list.

The X.A.V.A. stopped by one of the woodpiles.

"So?" J'Rath asked. "What do milk maids have to do with my book?"

"We saved one last night. From Gourd Guardians," Mal'Kawp said.

"So?"

"Just one thing..." P'Thok said.

"What?" this time the word was shouted.

"Your book is covered by human skin, human skin that the owners weren't quite done with when it was taken from them."

The night was silent except for the rustling of leaves as the DOG2.0 dropped the stick it was holding and pointed its nose at J'Rath.

The other Treana'ad suddenly snarled.

"I would have gotten away with it, too..." he snarled.

There was a flash and the gray Treana'ad vanished in a puff of smoke.

The X.A.V.A. barked. It's warsteel face was suddenly covered by a hologram of a green canine head with exaggerated features. Micromissile launchers deployed from its hips, a small tri-barrel popped out of its back.

P'Thok grabbed his rifle, pulling it around, one hand cocking the lever action.

Mal'Kawp pulled a heavy duty fully automatic Terran slivergun out from under his poncho, running the action with a loud KA-LACKALACK.

J'Rad appeared on top of the blacksmith's forge building. The book was hovering above his hand, surrounded by purple energy. The crystal balls were orbiting the gray Treana'ad's head, glowing with pulsing and shifting light.

"I CALL UPON THE POWERS BEQUEATHED TO ME BY S'RAH R'NKL'AWTH!" J'Rad howled out. Dark purple, almost black energy, surrounded by a dark crimson nimbus, flowed from his free hand and toward the gourd patch and the turkey pens.

This cone just went sour, P'Thok thought as he raised the rifle.