Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles)

by James Jackson

  Chapter Eleven - Finders Keepers

  Location:

  Outback

  Western Australia

  It takes two days for the first team to arrive at the abandoned spacecraft. Being unsure of what to expect, the team is an interesting mix of civilian, military, and scientific personnel. Though various governments and interest groups wanted to run the investigation, it was finally decided that Cindy from Germany would lead this multinational team. The Russians have been a great advocate of this from the moment of the ship’s discovery.

  An army truck speeds right up to the ramp of the spacecraft while the other vehicles hang back. As the truck screeches to a halt, eight figures jump out from the back, and the truck then speeds away to safety. Peter monitors the progress of the two teams from his side mirrors. Getting to what he hopes is a safe distance, he swings the truck around, ready for a quick pick up, if needed.

  Radclyf gives Hayato a quick glance and nod as they approach the ramp. Sand has started to billow up the ramp and gather around the many landing struts. With a single hand gesture from Radclyf, the two teams move as one. Hayato's team runs up the right side of the ramp, while Radclyf's team takes the left. Scanning the dim interior, the two teams move slowly and cautiously inside. Minutes pass, and all that can be heard is the wind whipping across the sand. Inside the dark interior, the men start the long process of checking the ship from front to back. Powerful handheld lights repel the darkness, creating ominous shadows as the teams split up. Twenty agonizing minutes pass until those outside finally spot the two teams walking down the ramp, weapons relaxed. Cindy is relieved as she watches the men exit the ship.

  “Well, we know why they didn’t take her.” Radclyf states quite blandly. “She’s missing a lot of something inside. I don't know what, but it's clear this ship is not finished. There are huge, gaping sections inside that have cables, wires, and God knows what just hanging and not connected to anything. There seems to be a bridge area that is complete, and the rear engines seem to also be complete, but, hell, folks it's all guesswork for me.”

  Hayato waits for Radclyf to finish before adding his own observations. “There are many areas where the flooring is unfinished, resulting in holes right through the floor. It would seem that in some areas, entire decks are missing. There are definitely a lot of half-finished areas inside the ship. We also noticed wires and pipes not connecting to anything, just hanging down.”

  Cindy looks at the ensemble of men and women before her. “Okay. Watch your step in there. The support team will be arriving in another day, so let's find out what we can before they get here.”

  With the all-clear given, the scientists and civilians are allowed inside. George, still tired from his long flight, wonders why he was invited; conscripted, would be a better word. Joe and Andrew feel their presence is purely political; that is, until they are directed to find asymmetric charts, or any other relevant information from the ship’s computer systems. John looks around the ship with his powerful light as he heads to the bridge; his job will be to figure out how to fly the behemoth.

  With a whistle that draws everyone's attention, George can see why he was invited. Resting inside a large open crate is a Gamin bodysuit. How they got one, he can only wonder. He then sees the three men standing proudly behind the suit. Russians. George smiles. I have to find out how they got a Gamin bodysuit.

  Olaf calls out. “I heard you’re the best suit operator. Besides, these suits make me sick to my stomach.”

  George looks at the Russians, then the suit in amazement. He cannot help but think that their odds of figuring this ship out just jumped up quite a bit. With their limited knowledge of Gamin technology, a bodysuit, and the resources of the world at their disposal, the team gets started.

  Cindy finally enters the unfinished spaceship; she looks around the huge cavern, considers her team, and smiles. She knows that she has the best in the world for the task at hand. She calls out to all around, and her voice echoes off distant walls. “Folks, listen up. We must get this craft functional. Do nothing to jeopardize your safety or that of the ship. I want all teams to look for sabotage or self-destruct devices. I can't believe the Gamin just left this ship as it is without destroying it.”

  George suits up, and the very familiar sensation washes over him. Heading to an interface terminal, he hesitates for a second, then connects to it. The rush of information would drive most people insane, or at least make then violently ill, but not George. He is one of a handful of people who have learned to use these bodysuits to their full potential. Information scrolls up and down his faceplate. It does not take him long to find what he needs.

  George reports what he has learned. “Ma'am, I know why the ship is intact. The internal power was never installed, so, the self-destruct was unable to complete. It's still on standby, awaiting a power source. If we hook up enough juice, she will blow. We will need to disable the self-destruct from the computer’s main core first.”

  By the end of the day’s investigation, it seems clear that the odds of getting this ship off the ground are slim to none. The missing hull plates and subsequent armor can be made, thanks to the acquisition of technical knowhow, and the suit. However, the missing gravity plates cannot be constructed; thus, artificial gravity will be confined to existing decks. The main engines are built and seem functional, except that the ship needs to be in space to test them. Another huge issue is that with so many external gravity plates missing from the underside, there are questions about the craft’s ability to lift off. These ships use some sort of polarized magnetic lift system that requires the entire underside to act as a conductor. Not having the ability to create the inner workings poses additional problems. As if teasing them, it would seem that the bridge area is complete, but without power, the various terminals are useless. The Gamin bodysuit can only power one terminal at a time. George is the only one who can operate the suit with enough finesse for even that to work, so progress is painfully slow.

  Cindy looks at her report, adds a few more words, and then sends it off to her superiors. With the main supply trucks, still a day behind them, the team assembles for an evening meal. A very human-like object rests in her hands. According to George it is a time-piece. It is powered by some form of advanced battery, and was found in one of the few rooms set up for accommodation by the Gamin workers. George has translated the symbols which show hours and days. If they are correct, then the Gamin have a longer day, at twenty-six and a half hours, but they observe a shorter year of only two hundred ninety-five days. There is no year number, so they have no reference of how long the Gamin society has been keeping records of time. As Cindy holds the device, she cannot help but wonder how long the Gamin have been a space faring race.

  The Russian View

  The evening meal consists of army ration packs downed with various non-alcoholic drinks. George can’t help himself. He sidles up to the three Russians and sits with them. With an unusual bluntness, he questions them outright. “How did you guys get your hands on a Gamin bodysuit?”

  “Olaf can tell you; he was there from the beginning. Go ahead, Olaf,” ventures one of the seated Russians. Olaf stands up and stretches to his full height, then looks at his two comrades with his calculating brown eyes. He flexes his muscular frame one more time before sitting back down, having decided what to say.

  Cindy watches the overt display and mutters to herself. “Military men, always some posturing.” She still walks over to listen, however.

  Olaf begins his narration. “I was in St Petersburg when it hit. This asteroid was but a small speck in the sky as it travelled down. We sent numerous nuclear missiles at it, but still it came. The impact, in the middle of St. Petersburg, shattered windows a long ways away. Buildings at, or near ground zero, just vanished. The Neva River was emptied of water, and just like that,” he snaps his fingers, “the area became a war zone in seconds. Tens of thousands died instantly, vast numbers of people were injured.”

  Olaf
starts to relax as he recalls the events since then. Others come over to listen to the story. Andrew grabs two chairs while Joe grabs a cooler filled with various cans of soda. They sit down and wait for Olaf to continue. John sets about lighting a fire for them to relax around. There does not seem to be wood anywhere, until he spots the truck’s wooden tailgate. They have plenty of cardboard boxes, some of which are consumed by the fire as Olaf's story unfolds.

  Olaf grabs a drink, and then continues to speak. “The small asteroid drove itself deeply into the ground, sending waves of debris in all directions. Once the dust settled, visible rings encircled the impact site. The entire port area was badly damaged, fortunately all ships had put to sea, but they would not be able to return, that was for sure.”

  Having not witnessed these events, both Radclyf and Hayato bring chairs over to listen as well. Soon enough, the entire team is present, listening intently. Cindy looks around at the civilians, scientists, and military men from various nations, all sharing a campfire. In all, there are six nations represented here on this fine evening. She cannot but help feel sure that they will make the unfinished spacecraft fly. She looks over at it while continuing to listen to the Russian.

  Olaf continues, “Well, as you know, a massive spacecraft landed; it was so much bigger than that one.” He points over behind them, to where Cindy is gazing. “It lands, and these little dozer-like vehicles proceed to collect debris and build some buildings. Russia looks after its own; we found housing for the survivors, and did not rely on the aliens.”

  “But how did you get the suit?” George is so curious he cannot help but ask as Olaf pauses to take a drink. Olaf puts his drink back down and looks around the group of people, all transfixed on his telling of events.

  “Okay, okay, George. I will get to that in good time. Soon enough, the Gamin leader demands resources be shipped and rather than fight, we do as ordered. These aliens want us to work for them. We do not let any civilians near the spacecraft. I was assigned with a few hundred military men, to assess the threat and learn how to use their technology.”

  George can only smile inwardly as these were his very thoughts too, when the Gamin arrived. He also wanted so badly to learn if the cities were attacked on purpose.

  Olaf’s voice has the entire audience captivated. “It became apparent that these bodysuits make most people sick. I am able to use a suit, but at great discomfort. Most of the men could not tolerate the suits at all. The rest could use them, but at the cost of having headaches and nausea.”

  “Did you get more people to try?” Asks Joe, at yet another pause.

  “Joe, let him tell his story, mate.” Chastises Andrew.

  Olaf is unperturbed as he continues, “Yes, we tried over five hundred soldiers, but met with only limited success. We wanted to study a suit so badly, but the aliens of course would not just hand one over to us. So, we had to come up with a plan.”

  Everyone leans forward, as they all want to hear how Olaf did it. “It took some time to prepare, and we had to be very careful, lest the Gamin suspect us. The liaison assigned to us was a Gamin called Glarth, and he was tough. I personally witnessed him beating one of his own for hesitating when following an order. I could not understand them unless they used some translation device.”

  George is suddenly quite conscious of the small device still resting comfortably in his ear. He had completely forgotten about it. He looks at Olaf quizzically, who upon seeing the expression, pauses.

  George quickly shares his own experience. “The one I saw in New York was called Sharz. He seemed quite compassionate and caring, especially when compared to this Glarth. He was the one who taught me how to use many of the suit’s functions.”

  Olaf nods at George. “It's well known that you are the best suit operator. Anyway, we digress. This Glarth was meticulous beyond all reason. Perhaps he knew that we were all military and not civilians, but in any case, none of us were ever allowed on board the spacecraft. The suits were always brought to us and we were always under escort. Eventually, we built rail lines and Glarth got his resources. While we were doing all this, we also cleared out some old tunnels underneath where we were working. We noticed that rail shipments were increasing in number. It looked like they were stockpiling, so we wasted no more time. The next day there were four of us in suits. We walked to the rail exchange and waited.”

  Pausing to take another drink, Olaf is enjoying the look on everyone's face as he keeps them in suspense. This time no one says anything, as they all wait patiently to find out how it was done.

  Olaf gestures with his hands as he continues, “The explosion was deafening. The ground at our feet just vanished, and in an instant, we were all falling. The four of us fell quite a ways, bouncing off the walls until we hit the bottom. Ahh, but the secondary explosion, that was even worse. I was safely away by that time. My three comrades gave their lives for this suit.”

  George is not the only one with his mouth open in shock. He looks around the campfire at the others, as Olaf raises his drink to the air in some kind of salute.

  Olaf continues his tale. “Well that Glarth, he had bits of suit, and body parts, and tons of debris to contend with. There were other casualties, as you would expect from a large, underground gas line rupturing. I am not sure if Glarth believed all the suits were destroyed or not. I would have expected them to have some sort of homing beacon to track them.”

  “No, there is no need.” George states quietly. “The suits are such a common object to them; besides without the right modules, they can't do much. Did you ever notice the connectors on them?”

  George looks around, and is met by quizzical looks. Surely, he is not the only one to have noticed the differences in the suits in all this time. “Training suits can only have one module affixed. Construction suits can have many different modules, but only two at any one time and all have five connection points. Weapons suits and modules all have seven points to connect with each other. The suit you have provided us with is a construction suit with one basic module installed, but, it can take another.”

  Olaf gets up and slaps George on the back in a friendly gesture. “I knew you were the best with these suits.”

  George looks up at Olaf. “I thank you and your friends for their sacrifice. I will do my best to honor them.” He, along with the rest of those present, feels a little odd. The Russians sacrificed their own to get a Gamin bodysuit, and then just hand it over for him to use. He looks over at the suit again as he begins to wonder what destiny holds in store for him now.

  Cindy stands and stretches. “Olaf, the courageous act by your people will not go unnoticed, nor will it go unappreciated.”

  George stands up and walks over to the suit. He blurts out his thoughts. “I saw suits with minor damage as well, but thought nothing of it, at least until now. Just look at the faceplate; it comes down pretty close to our faces.” He looks back at those around the fire. “The Gamin do not even wear these suits.”

  Cindy walks over to George as she considers where he is going with this. “Go on, George.”

  With a pensive expression, he continues. “Well consider the facts. They have plenty of suits and they cause most of us to be nauseous or get headaches. We are definitely not alone out there, folks. There are other people, too; the ones these suits were originally designed for.”

  Cindy follows George’s eyes to look up at the star-filled night sky. She is joined by many others as they gaze silently upward, captivated by the awe-inspiring view.

  After a few moments, Cindy breaks the spell and brings them all back to earth. “Listen up, people. We should retire for the night. The second team is due to arrive in the morning.”

  They all heed her words and head to the small tent city that is building up in the area. George has trouble sleeping, as he feels that once again events beyond his control and comprehension are propelling him onward. When sleep finally overcomes him, he dreams peacefully of his family.

  Second Team


  Dust billows behind the convoy of twenty army trucks as it comes closer to its destination. The mix of nationalities has not had an easy trek through the Australian desert. It seems that someone in their ‘wisdom’, did not hire enough translators, resulting in less-than-cordial interactions the last two nights. The heavy presence of the Australian military is another sore point for some.

  Finding the gap in the wall is also no easy task, but eventually, they find the hole blasted through by the first team. Within an hour of passing through, the convoy arrives at the small tent city. The drivers, all Australian soldiers, pull the trucks up in an orderly fashion.

  Cindy watches the various men and women as they exit the trucks. She knows this will be tough, so, with a deep breath, she prepares herself and heads over to them. Glancing back, she sees Peter watching her; he raises his pipe as she continues on. He certainly is a strange one, she reflects.

  Cindy address the new arrivals. “I am Cindy Klein, and I am in charge here. If any of you have any questions, please direct them to me. Until the engineers arrive, we will be living in tents and eating rations kindly provided by the Australians.” She lets a little touch of sarcasm slip in at the end.

  A small Asian man approaches her. “I am Mr. Mao, and I am here to assist.”

  Before she can even respond, a taller man interjects. “Well, I am here to examine what you have. You may call me Jules; I am here at the bequest of the French government. What have you learned so far?” His tone is quite authoritarian.

  Cindy raises her eyebrows at him. “Jules, I will brief all of you in one hour. I suggest you get your tents set up, and then eat some lunch. We will all be very busy this afternoon.”

  As she walks away, she tries to remain calm. Different cultures have different ways, she tells herself. She had been told that the mix of French and Chinese, with their Australian escort, had been having a difficult time communicating. Phew, I can sure believe that, she thinks.