Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles)

by James Jackson

  Radclyf’s voice is even keeled. “The hangar area is secure. You can come out now. Peter will escort you to the bridge. I will explain everything when you get there.”

  John exits the shuttle first, glances around warily, then hurries toward Peter. Cindy’s eyes are very wide as she follows. For all the missions she has sent people on, and read about, this is the first time she has been this close to violence herself. The experience has shaken her to her core.

  Arriving at the bridge, they find Radclyf in full combat regalia. Slung over his shoulder is a powerful rifle, two hand guns rest in open holsters, while knives occupy various other places on his body. Who knows what else hides in his many bulging pockets. Cindy is now quite agitated. Since when did this become a military operation?

  “What’s going on? I was not even gone for that long.” Cindy demands as she sits in her chair, suddenly becoming aware that its back faces the entryway.

  Radclyf motions to Peter, who simply nods back before speaking up. “Well, let’s just say that, thanks to you, we have flushed out an infiltrator.” He sits down clearly not offering any more details.

  Cindy looks around the bridge as his words sink in. “You used us. NO! You used ME, as bait.” Her eyes widen even more, her breath shortens as the realization that she could have been killed comes to mind.

  Peter steps over to Cindy and says warmly. “You were never really in any danger, but...” He looks up at Radclyf before going on. “We think there are more on board, so we will be taking extra precautions for a while.”

  Meanwhile, Chokichi stealthily makes his way to the hangar floor. Even though the hangar is supposed to be empty, he waits cautiously for a time. Only when he is sure that it is safe does he walk to the body. He carefully examines the man, and then empties the victim’s pockets. Rolling up the sleeves on the man’s arms he finds what he is looking for. Using a small digital camera he takes a few pictures, then stands back. He studies the dead man one more time before he drags the body into the shuttle. Cleaning the blood off the deck with a bunch of rags and chemicals, he leaves no sign of the man’s passing. Tossing the rags inside the shuttle, he makes one more appraisal of the area, and then quickly heads to the bridge.

  Chokichi arrives in time to see Cindy quietly smoldering, no one has provided her with an adequate answer. Radclyf reviews the images on the camera, the tattoo is unmistakable. He puts a hand to his mouth, he is staggered by the meaning of this. He gives Chokichi a long hard stare before speaking.

  Radclyf’s voice is quite firm. “You know what this means?”

  Chokichi’s reply is foreboding. “We have had our share of dealings with this cult.”

  Radclyf has never felt this apprehensive in all his life, no matter the mission. “Then they are here, on board somehow, somewhere.”

  Cindy is not used to being out of control. She stands, and with both hands on her hips, glares at the three men and demands. “Will someone give me a straight answer? Who is here?”

  Radclyf’s mouth twitches before he replies. “The worst doomsday cult ever to exist. ‘Malak’s Hand’, and they are here, on board this ship.”

  Peter blanches at the news. He has also heard of this cult. He relays his thoughts, “They live to see the world end, and believe it is their destiny to deliver us all into the afterlife.”

  Cindy’s eyes open wide as her jaw slackens. “Oh my. You’re sure?” She quickly answers her own question. “Of course you are. I hope they don’t have any more of that chemical.” Her eyes dart from Radclyf to Chokichi, and then to Peter, searchingly.

  The others on the bridge do not know exactly what is going on, but whatever it is, it has shaken the most seasoned of soldiers. This is more alarming than anything else being discussed behind them.

  Radclyf sighs. “Well, quite frankly, if they have…” he shrugs, “well, there is nothing we can do about it, is there?”

  Cindy sits down in her chair and ponders this new development. Something is tugging at her mind, she has missed a crucial piece to this puzzle, and can feel it in her bones.

  With nothing more to be said, the soldiers leave. She can almost feel the answers to some of their problems, if only she could stop and think clearly. The clues are there, there is just too much going on.

  Later that evening Hayato’s team makes a routine enough flight to the lunar base. When they return, the body is gone, buried on the surface, perhaps for all time.

  With nothing to do but wait for General Hayes to get back to them, Cindy decides to face her fears and head to the mess area that has been set up for the crew. Peter walks with her, and though he chats nonchalantly, his eyes dart into each doorway they pass. Every darkened recess receives his intense scrutiny, as he switches sides over and over, always putting himself in any potential harm’s way. The mess hall is eight decks down, and holds over two hundred chairs around an assortment of tables. With a current compliment of one hundred seventy-six, Cindy is not surprised to see around fifty people gathered in small pockets throughout the room.

  Peter quickly steps in front of Cindy, cutting her off, as he boldly steps into the room. His practiced gaze carefully examines those in the room. Once satisfied it is safe, he steps to one side, and allows Cindy through. The pair grabs some packaged sandwiches and makes their way to a table. Nearby, a group of people are playing what looks like a poker style game. She nods to them as they glance her way, she cannot recall any of their names, and simply smiles in their direction.

  Peter has met them all, for they had reported to him seemingly so long ago, as per Cindy’s request. He also nods to each, then surprises them all as he calls them by name. “Patrick, Jeremiah, Richard, Ralph, Darren, how are you guys holding up?”

  Due to them being a part of the welding contract crew, he had assigned them to general maintenance duties. None of them were meant to be here, and for all of their American roughneck bravado, it is obvious that the situation is stressful to them.

  They break their game for a moment, surprised by the attention from the command crew. Patrick glances at his colleagues, and then replies with confidence. “If you guys can fly straight, we can keep this brick in one piece.” He winks at the other players, and while grinning, says, “I think y’all need a new pilot. That was one hell of a rough ride. I mean, c’mon. Who da hell does cartwheels in space?” His mischievous grin grows, causing smile lines to crease his face, all the way to his sparkling hazel eyes.

  Cindy stifles a smile as she reflects, so that’s how they saw our take off from the lower decks. ‘Showboating’! He seems to be joking, but with his accent differing from George’s, she is not one hundred percent sure.

  Gazing around the room and relaxing, she takes a deep breath, and then coughs. The thick alien air being forgotten for a moment. She gags at its almost viscous thickness in her chest. Getting her breath back, she stares at Peter, then drops her cup spilling its contents. Standing up suddenly she interrupts the card game. “Oh my, I think…” The thought is disappearing fast. “I need to talk to George, NOW!”

  Peter has to hurry to catch up with Cindy, who is almost running, even with the heavier gravity. Arriving at the bridge, she is quite out of breath. Fortunately, George is there, and wearing the bodysuit. I wonder if he sleeps in it? The thought comes unbidden to Cindy, and almost distracts her.

  “George,” Cindy gasps between breaths. “The air,” she wheezes, “on the shuttles.” Still out of breath, she pants. “It changed when we opened the ramp!” They stare at each other for long seconds.

  George continues to stare at her as the meaning behind her words sinks in. He recalls his trips to the Regent’s ship with Sharz. Oh my, Sharz took in a deep breath on the orbiting ship, not in the shuttle. The same happened when the presidents were transported up. How could I have missed this, it was right in front of me this whole time.

  Misunderstanding his silence, Cindy continues. “C’mon, to the shuttle, John you…”

  George holds up a finger, politely, but n
one-the-less, he halts her midsentence. Turning back to the console, he connects to it. The information he seeks is easily accessible, he just never thought to look for it. Disconnecting from the console, he opens his visor fully, revealing a smile that beams from ear to ear. “We can fix the air so easily, it’s actually absurd how simple the solution is.” He waves his arms around and starts to laugh a deep hearty laugh. “We could have been stuck breathing this, ‘stuff’ for a long time, had we left orbit.”

  The rest of the bridge crew gives each other questioning glances. Even Peter is stumped this time, and waits for an explanation.

  George does not keep them waiting long, and explains. “I need to take this suit to Earth, get an air sample, and come back. I simply have to provide the life support system with the new sample, and it will replicate it.” He relishes the excuse to see Lisa and Johnny again.

  Cindy is dumfounded. “Why didn’t the system use our air as a standard to start with?”

  George’s smile somehow grows even more. “Because the sample that was originally provided is still there, as a base to work from. That’s the sample we need to replace.”

  She frowns a little. “Why don’t the shuttles do the same thing?”

  “Well, this is the absurd factor. To maintain whatever is in the shuttle requires minimal power. Besides, why purge air that is breathable?” Answering his own question, George continues on. “Gamin efficiency, waste of resources to do that.” He gazes at the ceiling as he ponders aloud. “I bet there is a way to purge whatever is onboard and replace it with a standard atmosphere though. There must be a way. We will find out.” Realizing that he has been rambling, George stops talking.

  Cindy is elated at the possibility of replacing the nasty alien air, and yet something is still gnawing at her subconscious. Watching and listening to George brings something else to mind, something important, then it, whatever it was, fades away.

  An idea comes unbidden to Andrew. “So we can get any air sample, such as from a forest of eucalyptus trees?”

  George smiles at Andrew. “Yes, but I am not sure how many folks here would like your Aussie air.”

  “Well, I was just thinking.” Andrew is a little miffed at the quick dismissal. He probably wants air from New York City, ugh. He turns back to his console, then realizing he has nothing to do, just sits there, and stares at the stars. With a puzzled expression growing on his face, he looks back at his console, then back outside. Just as Joe had done earlier, he finds something odd, but he too, cannot put his finger on it. Unfortunately, just as Joe did earlier, he also keeps his thoughts to himself.

  Cindy considers running a random draw, but comes to a practical solution which ends the discussion. “We will obtain a sample of the cleanest air we can, and it will be our medics that decide where that comes from.”

  Most of the crew are bored, as they can do nothing but wait for ground control to respond. Henry, however, is busy analyzing George’s blood sample, plus the sample from inside the bodysuit. He will need better facilities to confirm his findings, but he learns enough to become very concerned. The sample from the suit, though no longer hazardous, is an exact match for the swirling gasses obtained so long ago during the attack on the Kyoto subway. He does not understand how the nerve agent came to be neutralized. He is sure of one thing; somewhere on this ship is a chemical powerful enough to wipe out all life on Earth. All the fanatics need is for some way to get it into the upper atmosphere. He quietly reports his findings to Hayato, who in turn speaks with Radclyf. They debate options for some time, but keep all their ideas contained to the men in their teams.

  Transmit

  With little to do but wait, Cindy has the boxes from the meeting at the Outback facility carried to the bridge. With the entire bridge crew present, she opens the first one, and holds up a gray, long-sleeve jacket. The emblem that occupies the right-hand side of the chest catches everyone’s attention. The three-clawed alien hand is clenched in an upward fist. A rendition of the Terran, with a curved line behind it, gives the impression that the spacecraft is orbiting the hand. The jacket has a plenty of pockets. Some are open, while others have zippers.

  Another smaller box has a bunch of Velcro patches. These attach to the upper left arm of the jackets. Each of these display an image of the Terran, with a rank insignia embroidered above in white lettering. She hands a jacket to each of the bridge crew.

  John attaches his ‘Captain’s’ patch to his jacket with a smile. Andrew, Joe, Peter, and George, have badges that say ‘Commander’, which surprises them all. George frowns as he stares at his jacket. He finds that the bodysuit is much easier to operate if he wears a tee-shirt, so he doubts that he will be putting on his jacket much.

  Cindy continues enthusiastically, “It was decided that you all had to have the rank of Commander. John is second in command, with the rest of you being equal in rank.

  George puts his jacket down and asks the obvious question. “Which of us is next?”

  Cindy smiles as she gazes at each of them. “Well, we just hope that it never comes to this, but if it does, just work together.”

  The hours have turned to days, adding to everyone’s boredom, except for a few people that is. Radclyf and Daitaro have continued their Gamin shuttle flight training under John’s watchful tutelage. It does not take the pair very long to gain enough basic skills to pilot the Gamin shuttles. During this down time, more and more of the crew take the Gamin ground vehicle out and onto the lunar surface. The low gravity makes for some comical spectacles at times. Initially, George finds it funny when he is called to push the vehicle back onto its tracks, but this soon becomes quite a chore, and not so funny. He leaves one pair stranded for an hour before he rescues them, they were less amused than George. For most, the hours drag on even more. The zero-g room gets more use, even though most of the crew does not care for it.

  George takes advantage of this time and examines the small thin device his son found during his illicit trek aboard the Terran. It fits in the palm of his hand and looks very much like a small control panel or console. The black screen fails to light up or display any icons, much to his frustration. He cannot see where it could be charged, nor any on-off control. After a while, he puts it away in disappointment.

  “Terran, General Hayes here, come in.” The sound transmits through the bridge speakers, catching the half-asleep Joe completely by surprise. He looks up at Akira, one of the Japanese soldiers, and smiles. They are the only two on the bridge at this late hour. He is most happy to have a well-armed guard present, even one that just stands and watches.

  Joe wipes his tired eyes, and stifling a yawn, responds. “General, Joe here. The others are sleeping, what can I do for you?”

  “Joe, tell Cindy we’re ready.” Joe bolts upright in his chair at the words, Alrighty then, he thinks. He is wide awake now.

  Twenty minutes later the bridge is a hive of activity. Cindy has been debating who should be there for this historic moment. Although George could have done this alone, she decides that they should all go, as a sign of unity to the world.

  John pilots the shuttle carrying the group to the lunar base. Cindy smiles as she gazes at those around her. She is very proud of them all. The Russians, Olaf and Peter, have proven themselves very useful in many ways. Her gaze pauses at Hayato of Japan. He leads a team of quiet, but efficient combat troops. What an understatement, she reflects. Her smile widens to see Hayato seated next to his British counterpart, the redoubtable Radclyf. If terrorists are onboard, she has faith that these two men can deal with them. Further down are seated the almost inseparable Aussies. While Andrew is tall and slim, Joe is short and stocky, earning them the nickname of the ‘odd couple’. They work well together, and have the tough task of figuring out how to navigate the Terran. Then she comes to John, their captain, a courageous and skilled pilot, no matter what he is flying. He and George may hail from America, but they are two sides of the same coin in many ways. George, a civilian with no military trai
ning, nor an extensive education, and yet he is critical to their success. An anomaly really. She frowns a little at the thought of so much riding on one person. The slight bump of the shuttle landing breaks her thoughts.

  The team makes their way to the main control room where Cindy sets up a camera. George steps out from his bodysuit for the pictures, which surprises even Peter. After much ado, Cindy gazes around and simply says. “George, transmit the data.”

  “Yes ma’am,” George replies as he steps back into his suit to perform the task.

  Peter watches Cindy as she enjoys the moment. He then watches George as he interfaces his suit to a console, and the world was ever changed, the thought comes from nowhere, and sends a chill through his body.

  Ten minutes later George disconnects his suit from the console and says, “It is done.”

  Cindy looks around the room one last time, then steps, as if to leave. She abruptly stops, then cocks her head to one side quite quizzically. “George, can you disable the weapons on the satellite grid?”

  George reconnects his suit to the Gamin terminal. A few moments pass before he answers. “Sure. But then anyone will be able to launch rockets.”

  Cindy has already considered this and responds with confidence. “Do it. Disable the weapons.”

  George shrugs his shoulders and seconds later replies. “Weapons disabled.”

  Cindy grins at those around her. “Now. Let’s get off this rock, we have a lot to do.”

  Her decision will have far reaching consequences, far more than anyone could ever imagine.

  Location:

  Riken Institute, Kobe

  Japan

  The most powerful, and fastest, supercomputer on Earth struggles with the influx of data. Even with the hastily installed upgrades, which virtually doubled its capacity, it still cannot store everything as fast as the transmission sends it. Fortunately, the Gamin satellite grid does indeed buffer the data, for a while. Technicians scurry frantically around as their pride and joy is brought to its knees within minutes.