He need not have worried; everyone was laughing at the Cartigian. She had tried to mount the horse and had fallen off the other side of the animal. She stood, glared at Octavian and just managed to remount as the horse stood. She had to clutch the animal’s neck to prevent herself falling again. Octavian smiled at her.
“Don’t laugh, Guardian, it’s not funny,” she snapped.
“Are you ready now, Cartigian?” he asked, trying to look serious so as not to annoy her further.
“Yes.”
“What’s your real name by the way; it’s not Emrhydreg, is it?”
She spat, “No, that’s one of the filthy savages’ names; we had to fit in.”
“So?”
“It’s Calista.”
“Right then, Calista, we should go.”
Octavian dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and it started to move off. He had remembered to grab the pack horse’s leash, and it obediently followed. The Cartigian had some difficulty getting her horse moving. She jiggled on the saddle then shook the reins, but the horse ignored her.
“Dig it with the heels of your boots,” Octavian told her over his shoulder.
She did so, and the horse fell in behind the pack horse. He sensed Seonaid watching from the shadows as they passed the entrance to the main hut. He touched her mind for a moment. He hoped she would be safe and live a long and happy life, if it were possible in this brutal and savage society.
Octavian and the Cartigian trotted their horses out through the gates of the village. The rutted path wound down the hill and to the right, and once they were out of sight behind a clump of trees Octavian turned to Calista.
“Are you all right with the horse? Would you prefer to walk?”
She shook her head. “No, I am fine, thank you.”
“OK, which way to your ship?”
“We need to follow this track for a while yet.”
Octavian thought for a moment. “Contact your colleagues and tell them to meet us at the ship.”
“I have already done so, Guardian. We will, however, be the first ones there so we can pick the others up.”
Octavian nodded. “OK.”
The trip was uneventful other than having to make a detour when they came to a fast flowing river. The river was obviously high from melting snow and Octavian had noticed the beginning of a thaw as they moved south-eastward.
They managed to find a ford, but still they got wet crossing the fast flowing water. They finally reached a clearing. The Cartigians had made no attempt to conceal their ship; they obviously thought no one on this planet that was capable of doing it any harm. It was a large grey wedge-shaped craft resting on four sturdy legs, and the legs had sunk in the ground half a metre or so, testimony to the weight of the ship. Calista dismounted her horse and reached up to a small recess in the otherwise smooth hull. A panel opened and swung down, revealing steps leading up into the ship. Octavian could sense nothing from the ship’s systems. He was not surprised; the Cartigians had no telepathic communication capability. He accessed his tactical computer in his belt, hoping he could connect with the ship’s systems using it as an interface. At first he got nothing.
The Cartigian turned to him. “Come on up, Guardian.”
He dismounted the horse and climbed the steps. He could smell a faint acrid smell in the air of the ship. Recessed lights flicked on as they entered the air lock. The inner door opened, and they both stepped through. A corridor ran right and left. He followed Calista to the left, passing several sealed doors and climbing another flight of steps until they eventually came to the main control room. There were five seats facing consoles arranged in an arc, and they appeared to be facing a large view screen set in the wall of the room. Octavian was surprised that the ship was a typical Cartigian design, since he had somehow expected something different. After all, there had, according to Calista, been a long dark age after the fall of the Guardians before they had rebuilt their colony and reinvented space flight. He again tried to get access to the ship’s computer through his system, and to his relief he found that now he was in the ship he had the basic command functions available and could access some of the ship’s systems via his tactical computer.
Octavian knew that Cartigians would try to take advantage of him and he needed an edge. Calista sat at one of the consoles and started to bring the ship’s systems on line. She keyed her communicator and spoke with the rest of the crew, two of whom were just hours away. They would wait for them, then go and get the remaining two, who were on a larger continent to the east of them.
Calista turned to Octavian. “We have two spare stasis chambers in the hold which are there for emergencies. You will be able to use one of them, as our flight will be about ten years ship’s time.”
Octavian knew that they would set his chamber to revive him after theirs so they would have him at a disadvantage. They wanted Star Drive technology and he was sure they would not be bothered how they got it from him. With his telepathic capabilities, the superior technology of his computer system and battle armour, Octavian knew he was more or less safe, but once he was in the stasis chamber, they would have the advantage.
He needed access to the ship’s systems so he could override any settings they made. He needed to be revived hours before the first member of the crew.
“Guardian?” Calista had been speaking to him and he hadn’t replied.
“Sorry, I was thinking.” Octavian more or less told her the truth.
“Would you like some food? We have a reasonably equipped galley, and we use a variation of the stasis chambers to keep food fresh indefinitely.”
“Yes please,” Octavian replied.
Calista led him down another corridor, then through a door that opened into a small galley. She busied herself preparing the food while Octavian sat at the table. While she was distracted he completed the integration of his tactical computer with the ship’s systems. The Cartigians would not be able to detect that he could control their ship using his computer. He downloaded data from their mainframe; he could review it later for the information he needed regarding the control of the stasis pods. Just as Calista was finishing the preparation, two more Cartigians arrived –one male and one female. They were both dressed like natives, only their short stocky build and heavy eye ridges gave them away. Octavian stood as they entered and they stared at him for a moment. The male was the first to speak.
“So this is a real Guardian? I thought they were extinct! Other than these poor ignorant savages on this planet whom we believe are descendants of the survivors from the disaster that was the beginning of the end of the Guardians and our people.”
Octavian assured him he was very much alive and was certainly not extinct. The Cartigian nodded and sat at the table. The female greeted Calista and sat down herself. They discussed excitedly the possibility of having a Star Drive and how it would help them re-colonise this sector.
Once they had eaten, they went to the flight deck and fired up the ship’s systems. Octavian stayed in the background. The ship rose from the surface, turned southeast, and made for the larger continent. By the time they had picked up the last member of the expedition, Octavian’s computer had transferred all the relevant data from the Cartigians’ computer to its own memory.
They moved to a low orbit and prepared the stasis chambers. Most of the chatter between the Cartigians now centred on what changes they would find when they got back to their colony world.
Octavian set his computer to monitor the stasis systems. He was the first to enter stasis. Just before he went under, his computer reported that the Cartigians had readjusted the settings as he suspected they would.
As his consciousness faded, he saw in his mind’s eye Seonaid standing at the door of the hut watching him leave.
Five: Leaving
Well over two and a half thousand years had passed since Octavian had embarked on the Cartigian’s sub-light ship. On the planet Sicceia, 150 light years from Earth, a tall slim young
woman stood in an exercise yard, waiting. She swung her staff and stretched her muscles to warm up. A young girl in her middle teens sat to one side, her arms wrapped round her knees, watching the woman. “You’ll beat her this time, Tristain, I know it.”
“Shush, Sabela, let me concentrate.” Tristain smiled at her sister and put her finger to her lips.
Tristain’s training as a Guardian was complete. The two AIs, Dionysia and Cassiopeia, her father and mother, had all contributed to ensure she was as prepared as possible for what lay ahead of her. She looked forward to helping her father with the task of keeping the peace between the races, which he had done almost alone for the past seventeen years.
She also wanted to leave Sicceia. She loved her mother, but she disliked the Sicceian people; she much preferred the company of the other races. For as long as she could remember, many Sicceians had treated her with barely disguised loathing. She was half-Human half-Sicceian, and she could feel their emotions when they noticed the difference in her eyes and ears. Her brothers and sister just laughed at her when she mentioned it. They just told her she was being too sensitive.
The sound of the door opening disturbed Tristain’s train of thought. She turned towards it as her mother Aesia stepped through.
“Are you ready, Tristain?”
Tristain nodded. “I’m ready, Mother.”
The two women stood facing one another, and a casual observer could easily mistake them for sisters. Both were tall and slim with long, fair, almost white hair pulled back in a clip. The only real difference was in their eyes and ears. Aesia had the blue eyes with slit pupils and long swept-back ears of a Sicceian, Tristain had the eyes of her father, a human, with round black pupils and blue irises, and her ears were far shorter than her mother’s although longer and more pointed than her father’s.
They circled one another for a while, watching and waiting, not wanting to be the first one to make the attack. Suddenly, Aesia leapt at her daughter, swinging her staff. For the first couple of minutes, they exchanged blow for blow, the staves a blur of speed.
Almost without thought, Tristain saw her mother make a mistake, leaving an opening for her. She swung her staff and caught her mother’s leg. Twisting, she pulled her mother’s leg from under her. Aesia tried to recover but lost her balance and fell back with a grunt.
Aesia smiled up at her daughter and held out her hand. Tristain pulled her mother back onto her feet.
“Well done, Tristain! I don’t think there is any more I can teach you.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
Sabela jumped up, clapping her hands “Tristain, you did it!” She ran over and hugged them both.
“What do you want to do now?” Aesia asked.
“Mother, I want to take a few months off and see whether I can find father’s home world.”
Aesia nodded. “Yes, it would be wonderful if you could find more people capable of becoming Guardians.” A wistful expression crossed her face. “Take some pressure off our family.”
They turned and left the training area together. Tristain wanted to talk to her father and then pack her things ready to leave.
Tristan was sitting in the garden, his legs stretched out in front of him. A glass of Turgonian Beer sat on a small table by the side of his chair.
It was the twenty-first anniversary of him leaving Earth, and he felt he deserved a few days rest from the constant political wrangling of the various races with one another.
He let his mind drift, and he thought of England in the summer and real ale. He took a sip of the beer and sighed. Just at that moment Tristain came around the corner of the house. Tristan looked up at his tall elegant daughter and smiled. She smiled back, and sat down on the grass in front of her father, pulling her legs around under her. They sat in silence for a while in the warm afternoon sunshine.
Tristain broke the silence and spoke with her father in English. He had taught Aesia and his children his language, and as no one else spoke English, it acted as their own secret code. “Father, before I officially start my duties as a Guardian, I would like to spend some time trying to locate Earth. If we can’t find more people capable of becoming Guardians and interfacing with the AIs, the galaxy will eventually deteriorate back into chaos and anarchy after we are gone.”
Tristan lifted an eyebrow. At that moment Aesia came out of the house and walked over to them. She had changed into a loose summer dress and had removed the clip from her hair. She sat down next to Tristan. She regarded them both. “Has she asked you whether she can look for Earth yet?”
Tristan nodded. “Things are quiet at the moment, probably the calm before a storm.” He sighed. “The galaxy needs many new people to become Guardians, and to ensure the peace is kept. Even if Earth can’t be found there may be other forgotten races on planets that have dormant AIs who would be willing to join the League.”
“Well, does that mean I can go, Father? I have been training and learning most of my life, and I would like some time away before I take up my duties.”
Tristan looked at Aesia and she nodded in agreement.
“All right, but remember when your mother and I left Earth we had no idea which way we had travelled as everything was destroyed when our craft crashed. The only starting point you have is the planet we crashed on. There are thousands of systems within three weeks flying time of that planet.”
Tristain stood and hugged her father. “Thanks, Dad. I will be careful, and I promise to keep in touch.”
“There is one condition, Tristain,” Aesia added. “We want you to take one of Dionysia’s avatars with you.”
It was Tristain’s turn to sigh. She wanted to be alone for a while and sort things out in her head. She also wanted time alone to come to terms with what and who she was. The last thing she wanted was to be accompanied by the stuffy AI.
“If I have to take one with me can’t I take Cassiopeia? She has a younger personality and is more my age, if you know what I mean?” She looked at her father, her head to one side.
Tristan laughed. “Two young women on an adventure together, eh?”
“Well Father?”
“Yes, of course. God help the Galaxy!”
She stood and hugged him. “When do you want to leave?” He asked.
“Tomorrow morning if possible,” Tristain replied.
The next day Tristain said goodbye to her brothers and sister. She would miss them. Her little sister cried; she was upset because Tristain was leaving her alone with her “horrible brothers!”
She hugged her father and mother then turned and walked to the small heavily-armed scout ship her father had given her. As she walked up the boarding ramp, she turned and waved to her family. Her feelings were in a jumble – part of her wanted to go and get away for a while, another part wanted to stay with people and things she knew and loved.
Tristain took a deep breath and steadied her resolve. She walked into her ship and did not look back as the ramp closed behind her. She cycled the airlock and walked to the bridge of the ship.
As she walked through the bridge door Cassiopeia turned to greet her.
“Good morning, Guardian.”
Tristain sighed; she had forgotten that Cassiopeia was to accompany her. She glared at the AI and mumbled under her breath, “I wanted to be alone!”
“You are alone, I’m a machine.”
“Yeah right!” Tristain retorted in English.
“Don’t forget, I understand English,” Cassiopeia replied with an edge to her voice.
Tristain clicked her tongue and plonked herself down in the pilot’s chair. As she almost automatically set the launch sequence and cleared her takeoff with the Sicceian Traffic Control, she let her mind wander, thinking of the planetary AI's.
The Sicceian AI, Dionysia, had been woken from an aeon-long sleep by the event of her birth. She had set her systems to monitor for someone with the capabilities of a Guardian. Her father was light years away from Sicceia whe
n she was born. Her mother, Aesia, thought he had been executed by her people months before.
The AI had been like a maiden aunt when she was small, but now she was more like a bossy elder sister. Most of the planetary AIs were unemotional machines, except for Dionysia and the Mylian AI Cassiopeia. She had questioned her father about it several times, but for some reason whenever she did he would clam up, and she couldn’t get an answer out of him.
Six: UFO
Flight Lt James Taylor felt part of his Typhoon. His head up display reflected the movement of his aircraft as he flew close to the ground. He held the stick lightly as he followed the contours of the Scottish glen below him, not noticing the ground flash by below his aircraft as he concentrated on the horizon. He pulled back on the stick then forward as he crested a small rise in front of him, feeling the change as his aircraft climbed then dived towards the surface of the loch that now appeared below him. He loved the power and nimbleness of his Typhoon; it was a new variant with extended voice command systems and an improved head up display that was integrated with the helmet targeting display systems.
The aircraft moved smoothly; the displays showing his pitch and attitude moving in unison to the light touch his hand had on the control stick. He was flying the aircraft almost automatically, following the rise and fall of the land beneath him. He smiled to himself as he flashed low past a small fishing boat making its way up the loch. I bet that made them jump!
He eased the stick to the left and climbed slightly as he flew between two mountains heading for Rannoch Moor. Ben Nevis was on his right as he followed the glen, and he knew walkers would be looking down on him as his fighter flashed past below them. He had just passed through Glen Nevis, turning towards the deserted expanse of Rannoch Moor, when his aircraft pitched to the right unexpectedly. Shit! He corrected the pitch quickly; flying this close to the ground did not give him any leeway. He glanced across to his left, and felt his stomach lurch and his heart jump – flying just off his port wing was a large craft. It was silver grey with no markings. It had no wings, just a large oval cylinder tapering to the front. He estimated it was slightly larger than a space shuttle. Glancing at his displays, they showed nothing – according to his instruments it did not exist.
Guardian Generations Page 5
