The Scalian Legacy

“I can’t believe you guys are playing chess in the forest.”

Kenny Felder drank his early morning coffee while he looked on a cloth chessboard lying on a small, foldable foot-high table. The small black and white pieces were already several positions out of place from their starting locations. Robert Felder was playing chess with his just-turned-fourteen-year-old son, Jack, at the camp site that his eldest son, Robbie, had developed for his guided trips into the Amazon.

The elder Felder smiled and answered, “There’s never a bad place for a good game of chess. In fact, I remember playing with your brother Robbie when I first brought you and him here fifteen years ago.”

“Didn’t you lose to Robbie also?” Kenny asked.

“Always with a quick wit, Kenny. You are well suited for the world of business you are about to enter.” Robert Felder kept his smile and refrained from reminding his middle son that he had quit playing before ever defeating his dad or brother. This was not a time for discord. This was a time to try to have his boys grow closer. His time was running out. In his late fifties, the sandy blond-haired, blue-eyed, good-looking, longtime politician, who was otherwise in excellent physical condition, had been stricken with lung cancer. Thus, Robert Felder wanted to enjoy the time he had remaining and foster the bonds among his sons.

“You are indeed going to defeat me again,” he said, with pride in his voice. “You’ve become as good as your brother.”

“Hey, let’s not get carried away,” Robbie chimed in as he walked over from having doused the fire. “He hasn’t beaten me yet, and I’m not going to let him win like you do, Dad.”

“He doesn’t let me win,” Jack shouted in his defense—and then thought for a moment. “Right…Dad?”

The senior Felder laughed. “Your brilliance is beyond just the game of chess, Jack. You are tops in your class. What do you care if you can be the best at a game? The key is to learn what you can from everything. Don’t ever discard good advice or lessons learned, regardless of how you received it.”

“We know, Dad,” Kenny said. He had heard this speech all too often. “Separate the lesson from the person,” he said, as if being forced to repeat a prayer.

“Yes, but the key is to take the lesson to heart.” The elder Felder looked up at Kenny unapprovingly. “For example, I once played a chess master who had many faults, but he taught me how to be patient with chess. Often when evenly matched, the more patient player has the advantage because he prepares and waits for his opening; for the right opportunity. When the opportunity comes, he pounces on it like a tiger. I didn’t just limit this lesson to chess. I have taken it to my personal daily life as well. It has helped me in countless situations. That’s how you separate the lesson from the person. Not just using the lesson as it’s taught, but in any way that it can help you be more successful.”

The young Jack smiled and looked adoringly at his father. Even though Kenny and Robbie had heard it all before, they couldn’t help but admire their father’s wisdom again. Then a few strong coughs from the senior Felder seemed to bring everyone back to reality. Smiles slowly turned into expressions resembling concerned grimaces.

Jack’s dreaming slumber was abruptly interrupted as the leg beneath him began to drop. At first, this worried Jack: if he was still in space, this would be the end. Soon the dramatic change in light made it clear to him that Jack was not in space. In fact, the light was blinding at first as the area was well lit and Jack had been in complete darkness. Still, would the atmospheric pressure in this new location be safe for Jack?

Jack concentrated on his limbs, but could not sense much, if any, change in air pressure, and he could still breathe. As the leg lowered, Jack remained within his perch, and thus out of sight. He could see the ship was arriving in what looked like a larger ship’s holding area or bay.

That was a fairly short trip, Jack thought to himself. At most fifteen to twenty minutes. What kind of interstellar travel could do this? Or maybe they had a large ship close by? Regardless, Jack wasn’t going to complain about his continued good fortune. He now had to decide when would be a good time to lower himself. Jack seemed to have a rather full view of the immediate area, albeit there was nothing of interest to see other than the bottom portion of leg he was perched in, which he could now tell was a dark grey, and the metallic silver floor of the holding area beneath it. Also, unless someone looked directly upward, he could remain unseen. Thus, he decided waiting for an opportunity was best.

Jack then heard a swoosh and a smooth, rolling sound. While he couldn’t see it, Jack could only assume it was some kind of door opening. He presumed he was correct when he heard faint voices and what seemed like footsteps. Then he heard one voice loud and clear:

“Raaarkeen-daaamoora!”

The voice was deep and rough as it gargled out its sounds. A similar sounding voice, in a more submissive tone, replied just as unintelligibly.

While still only able to see mostly straight down, Jack noticed something at the edge of his vision. It seemed like a tall, hairy creature clothed in some kind of greenish robe with decorations on the shoulders. Jack could see only its back and the top of its head, but that was enough to know that he had never seen anything like this before. The creature’s hair was thick and brownish and appeared to cover its body. Jack also noticed the creature appeared to have two legs and even two arms. The creature continued to bark what seemed like orders. Then, there were more footsteps. Another tall hairy creature, this time in a brown robe with similar decorations, seemed to be moving a large object. It was a long glass case with a silver handle—and Marcelo lay perfectly motionless inside. Jack’s heart began to race and his mouth dried. Marcelo lay face up in the container, as if in a casket, but while his eyes were closed, he seemed to be breathing. The glass container seemed to be floating in the air, as the creature pulling it didn’t seem to be struggling to move it at all.

Then came another creature and another container. As with Marcelo, Robbie’s eyes were also closed, and he seemed to be breathing as well. Jack wanted to jump down and take his chances with those hairy creatures; still, he resisted the urge. The situation had changed. He wasn’t on Earth anymore, and these hairy creatures weren’t machines that might ignore him just because he played dumb. Trying to do something now would likely guarantee he joined Robbie and Marcelo in captivity. He didn’t know if he’d ever have the right opportunity, but he had to be patient and hope an opening was forthcoming.

Several other creatures exited the ship Jack was on with machinery and other materials. Then the exiting ended. There was silence. Again, Jack wondered if this was his opportunity. He could lower himself and try to find his way to Robbie and Marcelo. Once again, Jack resisted the urge and decided to wait. He wanted—needed—more of a plan. He couldn’t help thinking that all of this was likely for naught. Despite getting this far, his chances of success didn’t seem any better.

In fact, they may have been worse.