Chronicles of Han: Preserving Creata: Part 1: Learning Curve

Panam woke me late the following morning.

“Freshen up, take a shower and I will see you for breakfast shortly,” he ordered.

I did as requested, not feeling like doing anything for myself.

My head was swimming with Tucker’s memories.

But it was more than memories. It was emotions, impressions and vast amounts of knowledge congregated inside my pounding head.

It was confusing and awesome and exhilarating all at the same time. It was as if Tucker had never left. Even his private opinions were at my disposal. I needed time to sort through everything.

I joined Panam at a mediocre breakfast. He definitely was not as good a cook as Tucker used to be. I was not hungry anyway, but managed to force some food down.

Panam placed a mug of coffee with two tablets in front of me.

“Drink it, it will relieve the headaches.”

I looked up at him. I wanted to sort out Tucker’s memories. I needed my wits about me for that. I did not want to be drugged at this time.

He stared me down.

“I am responsible for your physical welfare and I am telling you to take these tablets. They do not have any psychological effect, only physical. They will not even make you drowsy.”

Shrugging, I swallowed them with the coffee.

“Now go do what you must in your special room. Racewater phoned and said he will be around this afternoon. I need you resembling something sane and attentive when he comes. Go now.”

I retired to my meditation room.

Panam closed the door behind me and I could hear him starting on the dishes. I stood there in the semi-gloom for a while, deciding on the best course of action to take.

Firstly, I wanted to find out exactly what had happened at that warehouse.

My own memory recordings had never been locked to me so I would start there.

I composed myself in my usual cross-legged meditation position. Relaxing my body and deepening my breathing, I allowed myself to reach my own place of recording.

Finding myself back at the warehouse, this time as an observer only, I saw myself and Tucker walking towards the store-rooms.

There was a slight movement in the rafters to my right.

I froze for a second.

It saved my life.

It took Tucker’s

I looked at the place where the sound of gunfire started.

A man was nestled amongst some rafters.

Focussing my attention on him, I requested a close-up.

Memory told me that this was Regent, the man that had killed the snitch.

I memorized his aura, which would enable me to recognize him if I ever saw him again.

Following the gunfight from an elevated position, I was able to see Tucker’s assassin leaving the building through the landing at the top.

I was able to follow him.

It was really interesting to note that my own personal recordings overlapped with Creata’s recording system. I could go where I pleased as long as I entered via my own recordings. Yet, I could not do this when I was visiting someone else’s recordings.

I could do it when I was following unlogged recordings of newly passed-over people. Maybe the connection lay there. Maybe I am following my own unlogged recordings as a back door into the recording system?

Anyway. Back to the killer.

He got into a vehicle and drove up Hill Street where the affluent people lived. After passing the airport he turned off onto Maine Avenue, eventually turning into a beautiful walled garden.

The house in the middle of the grounds seemed ancient, as if the oldness oozed out of every stone. The killer parked in front of the house and went up the stairs to the huge double doors. A butler opened it and he was ushered inside.

I glided through the door. It felt like walking through a hologram. The mind played tricks on the spirit, letting it feel as if it actually walked through matter.

My enemy went upstairs and entered a room where I slipped in behind him. We were in a study and behind a huge desk sat Mr Custos Morgan.

I would never be able to forget the face that killed that unfortunate boy.

“Is it done?” he demanded.

My enemy visibly cringed.

“No, the psychic froze as I pulled the trigger. I did kill the handler. It is as good as killing the psychic. My contact in the Government assured me of it. It may actually be worse for the psychic. It will make him suffer.”

Morgan lost his temper, becoming pink with rage.

He slowly rose out of his chair. Placing both hands on the table, he leaned forward.

“I do not want him to suffer!” he told the man through clenched teeth. “I want him wiped off the face of this planet!

He touched my boys. Anyone who touches my children must be killed. Now get to it and do not come back unless you have the desired results.”

I was pulled back to my own body in a whirring motion, landing with a thud. A splitting headache started up right away.

This was no decent way of coming back.

What brought me back?

The front door!

It slammed.

No, crashed!

I expanded my hearing.

There were intruders on the premises and they did not worry about being subtle.

I scanned for Panam. He was not in the apartment and I found his essence two blocks away in the vicinity of the grocery store.

Good.

I concentrated on myself. I needed to hide, being in no condition to fight anybody at the moment.

There was no-where to hide in this room, and also everywhere.

I braced myself for what I had to do. It would take a lot of energy.

I pulled my life-force within myself, then heightened the rate of vibration to all my cells. This is an exercise usually done under great control over a longer period, but I knew I needed to be invisible to the untrained eye immediately.

I felt my body responding, becoming weightless.

Requesting all my cells to vibrate even higher, I had the satisfying feeling of my body dissolving into pure energy.

It was such a lovely feeling that I almost wished I could stay there, but the feeling was short lived.

The door to the room was thrown open. The light switched on and two people rushed in, armed with firearms. They had a quick look around before retreating to the living area.

“No-one’s here, yet you said you waited all day and did not see the psychic leaving the building. Are you sure you have the right bloody building?”

It was Regent, my enemy.

“Of course. Our information is accurate. I double checked the address myself,” the other man replied.

“Well, there is no-one here right now. You better find him – and fast, or I’ll kill you in his place!”

I heard them leave and when I could not hear their footsteps any longer, I let myself go, landing with a thud.

In all the excitement I had allowed my body to float up to the ceiling.

I forgot to check my position before I slowed my cells’ vibrational rate back to normal. It would have been hard to explain to someone how I managed to get stuck with my head in the ceiling, had I floated any higher.

As it was, I now had a sprained ankle that was already turning blue.

Being exhausted and on the verge of passing out, I knew I desperately needed help.

I needed Panam.

Focussing my remaining energy on him, I gave a psychic shout in one long silent scream.