Your Truth is Out There (Find Your Truth Book 1) (6 page)

It has been said that ignorance is bliss. It has also been said that what you don’t know can kill you. Gsefx knew enough about basic mechanics to make a relatively minor repair like this, but not enough to realize that his ship’s anti-detection device was dependent on a properly functioning attitude control.

What a turn my life has taken over the past two weeks,
Henry thought as he stared at the greasy burger and even greasier fries sitting on the plate the waitress had set down in front of him.
I never dreamed I could ever be this content.

He’d spent nearly every waking hour in his motel room-turned-makeshift studio, reaching an almost nirvana-like state as he sketched, drew, and painted. More than once, after falling exhausted into his bed, he had been tempted to ditch his plan and make another attempt at living a normal life. He knew if he could find this kind of happiness, even for just a small part of each day, it would make up for all of the rest of life’s pain and drudgery.

But these thoughts were nothing more than illusions, pipe dreams that disappeared quickly when mixed with the harshness of reality. His money would not last forever (indeed, he had spent most of it already), which meant getting a job, which, in turn, meant devoting most of his time and energy to accomplishing rote tasks that meant absolutely nothing to him. By the end of each day, the life and heart would be sucked out of him, leaving nothing for his art.

His art.

If only he could make a living at painting, his heart would overflow with joy. The darkness in his soul would be kept at bay, if it didn’t disappear altogether, replaced by an inextinguishable light rooted in his unwavering pursuit of truth and beauty. The very thought filled his eyes with tears.

Sadly, the stark reality was that there was no money in art, not for Henry anyway. Though a part of him always believed his talents were beyond ordinary measure—his former boss even confirming those suspicions recently—monetary compensation only comes when someone with money sees the beauty within the work and is willing to pay for it. In a world filled with so many things competing for attention, he simply couldn’t find anyone to give him or his work a first glance, much less a second. Even though Jason’s earlier encouragement had been comforting, it wasn’t enough to base a career on. Failure would come and it would break his heart beyond what he could stand. The more he thought about it, the clearer it became that the balance between practicality and happiness necessary to survive in this world was something unattainable for him. He knew what he had to do. He had stayed in his little room and painted almost non-stop for two weeks straight. Not for money. Not for fame. Not for anyone or anything but himself. Rarely eating, and sleeping even less, it was the most joyous time he had ever experienced.

Up until two weeks ago, his life had been a miserable one. By leaving this world on a high note, it would at least have a happy ending.

After leaving the restaurant, Henry drove for almost an hour before exiting the freeway. A few twists, turns, and switchbacks later, he finally turned eastward onto a deserted two-lane country road. If he’d continued east for another twelve miles he would have ended up in the town of Blainesbury, a nice-enough community whose only true distinction was that of being the natural rival to Henry’s hometown of Glenwood, located exactly twelve miles west.

It had been a long time since Henry had been home, and even longer since he’d been to the secluded spot he’d chosen as his final destination. Not since he was fourteen, in fact. During those painful years of late childhood and early adolescence, when the reality of his unimportance to those around him had become too strong to ignore, he would hop on his old red Schwinn, backpack loaded with all the essentials: a pad of paper, a dozen number two pencils, his trusty transistor radio, and a 32-ounce bottle of his favorite caffeine-laced soda and ride out to the middle of nowhere. The hours would fly by as he listened to the local rock station while creating page after page of magnificent penciled beauty. Finally, as the sun melted into the horizon and the paper became too hard to see, he would reluctantly get on his bike and pedal home, only to find his absence had gone virtually unnoticed.

In a sense, coming here was more of a homecoming for Henry than any visit to his parent’s house had ever been. It was a return to the only part of his childhood that ever felt like home. This time, he wasn’t coming to draw, sketch, or paint. The time for his art was over.

Henry turned off on to a nondescript dirt path leading away from the paved road and from nearly all civilization. He drove along the path for almost two miles, descending slightly into a narrow ravine. The ravine was bordered on both sides by boulders that continued to increase in size, until they passed the point where they could no longer be considered boulders, but instead had to be referred to as small hills of rock. He rounded a final corner and stopped in a flat open area about the size of two football fields placed side-by-side. He shifted the car into “park,” turned off the engine, leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He was scared; there was no doubt about that. But he was also strangely calm. He had come to terms with the action he was about to take and was glad it would all soon be over. His plan was quite simple. He would remove his paintings from the car and set them up on display, hidden from view of all but the most prying eyes. It would be his first, last and only true gallery exhibit.

Then he would have one last meal: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a small bag of tortilla chips, and a bottle of the same caffeine-laced soda he’d favored in his youth. After that, he would end it. One shot, upward through the chin and into the brain. It would be over quickly and would be virtually painless. Who knew what would happen after that? Maybe nothing at all. In any case, his miserable excuse for a life would finally be over. Steeling himself for what was about to happen, he got out of the car, put his coat on and looked around.

“So, this is it,” he said quietly and started unloading the car.

Qilzar was visibly shaking by the time he reached his vehicle.

Zaras 7!

Even with all his careful planning and preparation for this day, the day when he would finally be rid of Gsefx, that disloyal cretin, he had not seen this coming. He would rather be unemployed and living in a cave than go to Zaras 7. Of course, he’d rather not be unemployed, either. He had to find that miserable creature and convince him to come back.

Qilzar’s initial attempts to contact Gsefx through his vehicle communicator proved unsuccessful, so he decided to break protocol and call Gsefx’s home. Though the home was considered a sanctuary from all unsolicited contact, under the circumstances he was sure Gsefx would overlook this small transgression.

“Hello?” said a voice on the other end of the communicator (the receiver was currently blocking the video feed). The voice was female; Gsefx’s wife, perhaps?

“Ah, hello Madame,” said Qilzar, “may I speak to Gsefx?”

“He’s not here, he’s at work. Who’s calling?”

Oh no,
thought Qilzar,
this was a bad idea.

“Uh … this is Gsefx’s supervisor, Et Qilzar.” His voice was shaking. “Unfortunately, Gsefx is not at work this morning. I was hoping he had returned home.”

Qilzar’s screen flickered momentarily before the image of a quite attractive Relnarian female appeared.

“What’s happened? Is Gsefx all right? He’s not hurt is he? What’s going on?”

“Madame, I assure you, Gsefx is fine. There was just a bit of a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

The woman’s expression changed from concern to cold wariness.

“What has happened, Et Qilzar? Yes, I know all about you. Gsefx has told me how you treat him.”

“I assure you, Madam, nothing has happened … well, not nothing …” Qilzar was barely holding it together under the force of her glare. “… you see, to be precise … uh … ahem … oh dear … ah … it … it seems Gsefx mistakenly got the impression that I … umm … fired him this morning.”

“YOU WHAT? YOU FIRED HIM?”

“Well, you see … it was like I said … I didn’t actually fire him … well, yes I did … but, you see, it was just a terrible misunderstanding …”

“Why would you do such a thing? Gsefx is the top accountant in your department; he’s saved your pale gray hide more times than I can count! What’s wrong with you? And more importantly, where is my husband?”

“Madam, please calm yourself, I don’t know where he is, which is why I’m contacting you … I just …”

The screen went blank. She hung up on him. Qilzar sat for a moment in stunned silence. With each passing moment and new encounter, this rotation’s events continued to stray further away from what he had expected. He had certainly not been prepared for an encounter with Gsefx’s wife, especially one that had gone so horribly wrong. He collected himself and began considering his alternatives, only to realize that he didn’t have any. The woman who had just hung up on him was his only hope and he had to find a way to convince her to help him.

“Gralt!” he said under his breath, as he reached for the vidcon again. But before he could punch in the code, it lit up with an incoming call. It was her again and her mood hadn’t improved any.

“I just spoke with Et Xtlar and he confirmed your idiocy,” she said. “Meet me in the parking lot of the Pigawitts building on Lecturn and Semler in twenty ebyts.”

“Madam,” said Qilzar, “I don’t understand why we have to meet. Can’t we just discuss this now?”

“Just be there, unless you want to spend the rest of your career on Zaras 7!” The vidcon went blank once again.

His anxiety rising to a whole new level, Qilzar started his vehicle and left the Galacticount parking structure, for what he hoped was not the last time.

Henry washed down the last bite of his sandwich with a final swig of his soda, then reached over and turned off the radio, which had been blasting rock music from his favorite childhood station. He reached into the glove compartment, removed the .357 magnum and the single box of bullets he’d purchased specifically for this occasion. A slight smile crossed his face as he checked to make sure the safety was on before loading each of the gun’s six chambers.

No sense in blowing a hole in my leg before I’m ready to put one through my head,
he thought.

He got out of the car and walked over to his paintings. There were nineteen large and twelve smaller works; he’d been busy over the last two weeks, no doubt about that. He slowly reviewed each painting, inspecting them in much the same way he imagined a military commander might inspect his troops before sending them into battle. By the time he’d looked them all over, a sense of detached satisfaction came over him. He knew they were good, better than anything he’d ever done before. Certainly as good as anything he’d seen at a gallery or museum.

In another time and place, Henry’s satisfaction would have been tainted with the sorrow and resentment that came from knowing his work, as good as it was, would never be seen by those who might appreciate it. Knowing that if he’d only had the right connections, he could possibly have had a real exhibit somewhere, perhaps even have sold some of his work, maybe even enough to make a living. But his current state of calm would not allow him to step back into such sadness. Thoughts of this kind no longer mattered. A few minutes from now nothing would ever matter again.

Standing in the midst of his works, Henry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He lifted the revolver to click the safety off, but before he could do so, a high-pitched whining sound from above caught his attention. He looked up, but failed to locate its source at first. After several minutes, in which the sound grew continually louder, he saw a small object descending rapidly and coming directly toward him.

As it got closer, Henry could see that the object was a ship of some sort. A craft unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He tried to dismiss the crazy notion of this being some sort of alien spaceship—it was probably just some new airplane the military was testing. But as it got closer, all doubt left his mind; this ship was not from anywhere on Earth.

Gsefx watched his screen intently as he struggled to control his ship. Descending through the planet’s atmosphere without a functioning attitude control was difficult enough, but he also had to avoid any encounters with native air traffic. Considering he had no idea what their air ships looked like, or how fast they might travel, he had to stay sharp all the way to the ground. Thankfully, Irt’s small population meant relatively clear skyways. All things considered, things were going pretty well so far, but as he got closer to the ground and the planet’s gravitational forces grew increasingly stronger, he found it even more difficult to maintain control of his vehicle.

As he guided his ship downward, he also scanned for sentient life-forms on the ground. From what he could tell, it appeared there were no natives close enough to observe his landing, which was a good thing. A very good thing. Like Gsefx, most of this planet’s inhabitants seemed to prefer living close together in large urban settings. This location had been as far away from those population centers as he could find, while still offering a reasonable possibility of having the materials he needed to fix his ship.

He was nearly to the ground, ready to breathe a sigh of relief at his good fortune, when his console lit up with a warning, and the screen zoomed in on the lone figure of what Gsefx assumed to be a single Irtling staring up at him.

“Gralt!” he spat, his heart sinking and stomach twisting into a knot. Panic, mixed with feelings of self-pity and despair, began to set in.

Why did I ever come here?
He thought.
Whatever possessed me to attempt such a stupid stunt? I should have just gone home and waited for Planvc, or better yet, taken the ship in for a check-up like a responsible adult. That’s what Lhvunsa would say, anyway. By the Gods, Lhvunsa! How am I going to explain this to her?