New Season: Sparrow's Quest (New Sky Book 2)

by Jason Kent

  New Season

  Sparrow's Quest

  Jason Kent

  Prologue

  "The artifacts were right where you said they'd be, Select!" Lieutenant Julian exclaimed breathlessly.

  The Tallinn Council Select, a Watcher named Jonte, turned from observing the two crates being unloaded from the shuttle. As the crew of the Tallinn ironclad Seiklus set them on the steel deck, one of the boxes clanged loudly, as if it were overly heavy for its size. The sound echoed against the walls of the cavernous bay.

  Jonte stared at the young pilot. His eyes glowed like two burning emeralds from deep within his hood. The effect of his gaze was lost on the Lieutenant though. She was excited by her find on the dusty planet the Seiklus orbited.

  Jonte found himself smiling. It was exceptionally rare for anyone to act this...normal around him. Since becoming a Watcher, he'd become accustomed to being treated with a mix of veneration, awe, and fear.

  "I mean, it's impossible!" Lt. Julian declared. She looked from the cargo to the Watcher's glowing eyes. The pilot pursed her lips and fell silent, finally realizing her error in addressing Jonte so directly. She flicked her eyes to the deck and apologized. "Forgive my forwardness, Select. I...I got caught up in the moment..."

  Jonte waved his hand. He would not usually dismiss such breaches of protocol. But, how could he be angry, given his own excitement? He was pleased the team had located the artifacts so quickly, especially since it meant he would not have to travel down to the crumbling ruins himself. Still, he kept his feelings in check. It would be unseemly to show emotion in front of the ironclad's crew. A Watcher must exude calm at all times, no matter the circumstances. A Watcher could never be surprised. Or, so Jonte and the other Watchers preferred everyone to believe.

  Collectively referred to as The Select, Watchers like Jonte were carefully chosen from among the Tallinn elite. They became the guardians of the ancient being Knowl, whose physical form was that of a great tree. Their communion connected them to every other living being across the galaxy. Through the great tree, a Watcher enjoyed vision beyond normal sight. With the power to see across space and time, the Tallinn people believed the Select to be omnipotent. While gifted with revelations of startling clarity about the past and present, only a few Watchers were talented enough to bear witness to the future. Jonte was one of these. As a rising star among the Watchers, Jonte saw no reason not to be magnanimous on this occasion. Perhaps it would serve to enhance his already elevated status in the minds of the crew.

  "The way to the artifacts was shown to me," Jonte offered by way of explanation. "In order for the Tallinn people to extend their leadership across colonized space...and beyond."

  Lt. Julian's eyes grew wide with wonder and sparkled in the harsh light of the bay.

  Jonte nearly laughed. He knew his words, no matter how mysterious, would have this effect on the young woman. The Watcher was held in high esteem by the crew of the exploration ironclad Seiklus. Their mission had been conceived and executed based solely upon Jonte's visions. The revelation about the artifacts had been given to him. It was he who'd guided the Seiklus across the vastness of space. He had provided the exact coordinates of the artifacts; artifacts which were now in his hands. Jonte knew he should fight the pride welling up in his chest, but did not. Shouldn't Watchers be allowed to relish their victories, at least for a short while?

  "Select?" Lt. Julian asked. Her tone hushed as she dared look the Watcher in the eyes.

  Jonte blinked and realized he'd lapsed into silence.

  "Tell me of your visions?" Lt. Julian asked softly. "What of our future? How will these help us?" She gestured with a gloved hand at the crates.

  Jonte's first instinct was to tell the pilot she was not worthy of the knowledge. Visions of the future were rare for a reason; they could be...dangerous. He wondered if he had already encouraged her enough. He should have known his cryptic musings were a sure invitation for more questions from the curious Lieutenant. It had been a long, lonely trip for the Watcher though. Jonte was surprised how much he enjoyed having a conversation with someone able to genuinely appreciate the revelations he'd received. Jonte looked at the boxes. One of them was a standard transportation crate with sturdy metal sides and reinforced handles. The other box was different. Unlike the standard crate, this one was obviously not of Tallinn design. The strange box was made of a gray material which did not reflect the light and was covered in geometric patterns. Jonte began his tale as his glowing eyes roved over the swirling designs.

  "Long ago, a space-faring race of creatures, known as the Voti, left their world and explored the cosmos as we do now," Jonte said. "The Voti created powerful machines to help them travel far from their home. Their technology could barely keep up with their yearning to travel farther. These artifacts," the Watcher laid a palm on the ornate box, "represent their penultimate scientific achievement; unlimited power! The Council has need of them."

  Lt. Julian stood tall. "I am proud to serve the Council, Select!"

  Aren't we all? Little did the pilot know, the Council relied upon Watchers like Jonte to secure and maintain their hold on power. Jonte had seen events yet to come unfold; a bright future for the Tallinn Republic. The Council, backed by the Watchers would come to dominate the galaxy. With his vision, leadership, and these precious artifacts, the Tallinns could seize control of every inhabited world. They would usher in an everlasting era of peace, Pax Tallinn. Jonte had foreseen all of this. To him, it wasn't just one possible path. It was a fact.

  "We have recovered the Aether Source," Jonte continued. The Watcher knew he was giving away more information than was absolutely necessary. But, soon every Tallinn child would be taught the story. He knelt in front of the Voti box, his eyes glowing brighter with excitement as he studied the strange patterns.

  "With this gift, we shall be able to harness energy from the very fabric of the universe. Imagine, lighting an entire world or sending starships not hundreds, but a hundred thousand light years with a device no larger than this!"

  "And the tablet?" Lt. Julian asked quietly, in awe of the Watcher's revelations.

  "The tablet contains the knowledge of the Voti. With it, our scientists will be able unveil the secrets of the Aether Source. And much more."

  "It is an instruction manual then?"

  "Of sorts," Jonte said. His vision from Knowl concerning the location of the orb did not specify what the tablet actually said. Despite the Watcher's new-found openness, he was not about to admit any shortcomings to this woman. Who was he to dissuade her beliefs concerning Watchers?

  Lt. Julian looked at Jonte expectantly but did not press him for more information. Jonte decided he'd said enough and shifted his attention to the Aether Source. He'd seen it clearly in his vision; a crystalline orb shining with an internal blue light. Jonte felt a nearly overwhelming urge to open the box and gaze into its depths. Fighting the unexpected desire, he gestured to the crew waiting nearby.

  Jonte stood back as the crew lifted the intricately decorated box and carried it into a room-sized shipping container tied down in the middle of the docking bay. Unlike the tablet which had been discovered sitting alone, as if on display, the orb was found in the Voti box, locked in a vault. The Watcher was unsure if the box, or the designs inscribed upon it, was integral to the operation of the Aether Source. He'd ordered the artifact to be transported whole until more could be learned about the orb. The survey team had been given strict orders not to open the box, even to verify the artifact was inside. Jonte reserved this honor for himself.

  Opening the box inside a shipping container was not Jonte's idea. This had been suggested by the comman
der of Legion Parim, Centurion Markik. Always a careful man, the Centurion suggested the artifact should undergo initial examination in a controlled location with a single entry point. Using the shipping container would serve both to shield their work from curious eyes and offer a measure of security for the artifact.

  Jonte chose not to argue the inherent flaws of the Centurion's plan. First, the bay could simply be cleared of unnecessary crew members if needed. Second, who did Markik think they were protecting the Aether Source and tablet from? The long dead Voti? But, the artifacts were precious and irreplaceable so perhaps caution was warranted. Jonte had agreed with the Centurion and allowed him to make preparations as he saw necessary.

  Also, the Watcher knew the Legionnaires aboard Seiklus needed something to do. They'd had very little to occupy their time over the past few months. If they weren't drilling in various combat formations, the soldiers were stuck cleaning their weapons, and performing maintenance on their mechs. Preparing for the arrival of the shuttle and its cargo had provided a much needed diversion.

  Centurion Markik stepped over to Jonte and saluted him with a clenched fist across his armored breast plate. Markik's steel eyes bored into Jonte's glowing green ones without a hint of a flinch. His voice resonated with a deep baritone as he announced, "Legion Parim awaits your orders, Select."

  The intensity of the Centurion's gaze nearly made Jonte look aside. Markik was a seasoned soldier like all of the Legionnaires aboard Seiklus. He was a man who had seen and done terrible things in battle, all in the name of the Tallinn Council. Yes, Jonte commanded the Centurion, but deep down, the Watcher was intimidated by him. Jonte knew it would take more than the mysterious iridescent eyes of a Watcher to rattle the commander. The Watcher admired the man for his nerve.

  "Of course, Centurion," Jonte said. He put as much metal into his voice as he was able to muster. "I will open the box now."

  "First Eskadrill!" Markik bellowed. A squad of six men hustled forward from the ranks of Legionnaires. They squeezed through the container door, a task made harder by their bulky armor and heavy weapons. Four of the soldiers took up positions in each corner of the shipping container. The last two moved to stand at attention on either side of the Voti box.

  "Deploy the rest of your men," Jonte ordered solemnly. If the Centurion desired to show off his Legion, Jonte would play along. These men had pledged their lives to protect the Council and, by extension, him. Jonte decided he could spare a few moments of his precious time in return.

  "To your posts, Legion Parim!" Markik shouted.

  Jonte watched with feigned interest as the remainder of the Legion bustled to take up defensive positions all around the bay. In addition to the Tallinn soldiers, the Legion had broken out their twelve mechs. The machines were boxy with two powerful legs and stubby arms fitted with automatic weapons. A third of the mechs had large cannons protruding over their shoulders. A single red light gleamed from each of their optical sensors which continuously swept the compartment. Steam power cores and hydraulics hissed as the war machines clomped on the metal deck to their assigned positions. Jonte had to admit he was impressed. There was enough firepower arrayed to battle a small army. His attitude shifted as he considered Legion Parim as his personal honor guard, and this, his moment of victory. As the last mech settled into place, the Watcher squared his shoulders and declared, "Excellent work, Centurion!"

  Markik gave Jonte another salute then held out his arm toward the shipping container, inviting the Watcher to proceed.

  Jonte inclined his head, acknowledging the Centurion's subservience and walked smoothly to the door. Markik and Lt. Julian followed. He had not expected the pilot to join them. Instead of being annoyed at the woman's boldness, Jonte was becoming intrigued. Perhaps when they returned home, he would recommend the pilot be considered for selection as a Watcher. He liked the idea of having her...nearby.

  But, first things first. The Voti box awaited.

  Inside the big container, Jonte stopped an arm's length from the Aether Source's box. Markik and Lt. Julian flanked him; both stood a respectful half step back. The box rose nearly to his waist. He'd watched the crew struggle when they moved it. Jonte figured the gray material comprising the outer casing must be incredibly dense. He suddenly wondered if being the first to open the box was such a good idea. Jonte swallowed and realized he couldn't very well have someone else do it when he'd given strict orders to leave the job to him. Now was not the time to show weakness. Jonte sensed everyone waiting on him. Let them wait. This was his moment of glory and he was going to savor it.

  Jonte could not contain his curiosity any longer. Reverently, he raised his arms, hands cupped inward toward the Voti artifact. "Let me gaze upon our discovery!"

  The Legionnaires standing beside the box shouldered their weapons and grasped the edge of the lid. The big men's muscles bulged as they lifted the lid enough to slide it back. It clanged loudly as it came to rest on the floor.

  Every eye was drawn to the glow emanating from the heart of the box. Like a beacon, the Aether Source called to them.

  "Indescribable..." Jonte murmured, entranced by the orb's beauty. He allowed himself a broad smile, knowing none of the soldiers could see his face within the deep cowl of his hood.

  As he'd seen in his vision, the Aether Source glowed from within and clouds swirled just under the faceted, crystalline surface. The effect was mesmerizing and before he realized he'd moved, Jonte found he was reaching into the box.

  In a detached part of his mind, Jonte knew it was foolish to lay his hands on the orb. But the urge he'd felt earlier had redoubled. It wasn't enough to see the Aether Source, he needed to lay his hands on the mysterious device...to feel it. Before his hands reached the orb, bolts of raw energy collected near its surface and shot toward him. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep from jumping back in surprise. He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out as pain shot up his arms.

  The lightning lessened after a few seconds. Jonte sensed the orb had reached out to...greet him. Satisfied by what it found, the Aether Source now played blue static over the Watcher's fingertips. Jonte slowly pulled his hands away. Electricity continued to crackle between his hands and the orb. Jonte was startled to find the orb pulling back. The Aether Source seemed reluctant to part with its first contact in who knew how many centuries. The orb's tug grew and Jonte found himself struggling to stay on his feet.

  Jonte's heart jumped into his throat as he realized he had made a horrible mistake. What did the orb want from him? Deciding he did not want to find out, Jonte gritted his teeth and pulled back with all his might. Centurion Markik grabbed the Watcher's arm and added his strength to the battle.

  As the link between Jonte and the orb snapped, he was thrown off balance. Thankfully, Markik still had a firm grip on Jonte's arm. Jonte straightened and did his best to appear calm despite the harrowing event.

  "Select..." Centurion Markik began, his voice strained for the first time since Jonte had met him. Markik pointed to Jonte's hands.

  Jonte held up his arms. Steam wreathed his frost-covered fingers. After a moment, feeling began to return and his nerves tingled painfully. As the frost melted and water trickled down his arms, Jonte flexed his fingers, to prove to himself and the Legionnaires he was the master of this situation. As he made a fist, he was relieved his fingers had not simply snapped off.

  The relief was short lived as he looked beyond his hands only to find the Voti box dissolving.

  "What...?" Jonte began and stepped back.

  Take the orb.

  The sound of Knowl's voice brushed Jonte's mind. The Watcher knew better than to question the ancient being. Jonte pulled the sleeves of his robe over his hands and lifted the orb from the deformed box.

  Jonte felt the cold seeping through the thick cloth as he stepped away from the growing puddle. Gray material oozed in every direction.

  "You're precautions seem to have been justified, Centurion!" Jonte declared.

&
nbsp; "Out!" Markik roared, "Everybody out!"

  The soldiers hustled to comply as the Voti box continued to dissolve into a mound of goo. The pile quivered then changed from silvery gray to black as if a switch had been thrown.

  "Oh no," Jonte breathed. They were out of time. He'd seen technology like this before in visions of the Voti. The liquid metal was, in a word, unsafe.

  Black strings of the liquid metal shot across the floor to the two nearest soldiers who'd placed themselves between the box and Jonte. The Watcher turned and fled the steel room, silently thanking the Legionnaires for their sacrifice even as their screams filled the air.

  Four more screams joined the others, echoing off the metal walls.

  "Seal the crate!" Centurion Markik shouted. "Don't let anything out! To me, Legion Parim! To me!"

  Jonte looked back just in time to see the Centurion aim his sidearm into the tight entrance and fire at the forms shambling toward him. One fell back, but to Jonte's shock, immediately got up again. A ribbon of black liquid raced over the deck and stabbed at the Centurion. His face contorted in pain and Markik let out a battle cry. He continued firing at the seemingly possessed Legionnaires lurching out of the container door.

  The Watcher cursed his stupidity and lack of insight. The box had been a cunning trap left behind by the Voti.

  "Take this!" Lt. Julian shouted as she ran up beside Jonte and offered him a heavy quilted blanket.

  Jonte quickly wrapped it around the Aether Source. Glad to put another layer between his numb hands and the orb.

  "Just get it out of here!" Lt. Julian shouted. She drew her pistol and put herself between the terror unfolding in the cargo bay and the Watcher. Over her shoulder, the pilot asked, "For the Tallinn people, right?"

  "Yes," Jonte managed to say despite the lump in his throat. His eyes darted over the mayhem. The infected Legionnaires, including Centurion Markik, were shambling toward him, unaffected by the bullets tearing into them. Lines of black goo were everywhere now. Jonte saw one stream worm its way into the innards of a mech. The machine twitched then slowly turned to face an uninfected knot of Legionnaires. It opened fire with its heavy guns at point blank range.