Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles)

by James Jackson

  Once done, Patrick assists in copying the stored data to the computers which are managed by Emma’s remaining ground teams. Whereas Suzanne is far too busy to review the omitted data, he is not. The more he reviews, the sadder he becomes. This sadness soon turns into a seething rage.

  Patrick storms off, finds George, and practically shouts at him, “You never told us you knew which Regent did this!”

  George’s response is slow and measured, “Knowing which Regent did this, thousands of years ago, does not change the way things are today.”

  With his pent-up anger threatening to boil over, Patrick leans closer to George and stares into his eyes. He suddenly blanches, and with the hair rising on the back of his neck says, “You already have a plan for this Regent Xasturz? Don’t you?”

  George meets Patrick’s stare with fierce determination, and replies, “I have been searching the Gamin database for references to him.”

  Patrick steps back and states with equal resolve, “We will make that Regent pay for what he has done.”

  George nods in agreement and says, “We must also count ourselves fortunate that not all Gamin are the same.”

  Patrick’s anger fades as the truth behind George’s words sinks in. He takes a few calming breaths, and then says, “I will find Jux and show him how to use the tablets.” Striding away, he locates John and secures his piloting services.

  Jux is obviously surprised and excited to see the Terran’s shuttle land. He approaches cautiously, and even as the ramp is opening, says in his inquisitive tone, “You return so soon?”

  Patrick steps down the ramp and repeats his planned speech. “Jux, you are the chief greeter to the sky people, and my friend. My leader offers you this gift in gratitude for your hospitality.” He hands a tablet computer to Jux, who simply stares at it, perplexed.

  Patrick touches the pad turning it on. Jux almost drops the device. After Jux’s initial fears and concerns are calmed by Patrick, he begins to show Jux how to access the information. He smiles at the ordered way in which the data is sorted.

  It will take the Oglans many years before they will be able to take full advantage of the knowledge, but with a heavy focus on reclamation technology, they will have a fighting chance. Patrick spends the entire day with Jux, teaching him, and all others that Jux approves, about the use of the devices. He leaves an entire box of tablet computers in Jux’s care. Each and every one utilizes the latest in solar powered technology, and will last a long time.

  Patrick smiles and offers these parting words, “If you have any questions, ask Emma’s people. They will be staying here for a while longer, and will be happy to help you.”

  Jux stares at the departing shuttle and truly smiles. He had a feeling that showing Patrick the before times was the right thing to do, and he was right. Jux waves at the distant shuttle and says, “Thank you my friend.”

  Chapter Six - Are We There Yet?

  Location:

  Starship Terran

  Open Space

  The bridge crew has settled down into a casual routine as they travel away from the Oglan world, heading to the desolate world with the derelict spacecraft on it. After much debate, Cindy approves Joe’s request to activate the Navicon unit, and to leave it running. Almost immediately Gamin fleets appear on their expanded map, but none are within a thousand light years of them.

  Cindy half expects Regent Voknor to appear on their main viewer with the unit’s activation, but he does not. She is almost disappointed, but at the same time, also feels relieved. She, and others notice that George and Patrick begin to spend an unusual amount of time reviewing the Gamin fleets. Neither man will share with anyone what it is they are doing, but it is quite obvious they are up to something.

  Down in the hangar deck, the Victory is also a busy place. Joe spends as much time as he can examining and studying their new spacecraft. He endeavors to learn everything he can about their latest acquisition. The Victory’s engine scanner is active, and its console is constantly manned. With its range limited to fifty light years, the standing orders are to immediately report anything that appears on its screen.

  John has the Terran cruising at factor six point three once again. It would seem that this is the ship’s sweet spot, as the energy consumption closely matches the output from the pair of Gamin Power Units.

  The days pass quickly, during which time the teams of Army Engineers prepare for the task ahead. Elsewhere, crew members have little to do, except wait.

  Radclyf is one of those who have little to do, and is sitting alone at a table in the mess hall. He is deep in thought as he tilts his near empty mug of coffee back and forth. He stares at the swirling liquid, seemingly mesmerized by it. No one approaches him, but word of his brooding quickly spreads throughout the ship.

  Robert has always had the ability to sniff out a good story, and today is no exception. Hearing of Radclyf, he wanders down to the mess hall, and finding him still sitting there alone, quietly joins him at the table.

  With a clenched jaw, Radclyf bluntly states, “I am not in the mood for company!” His eyes remain locked on his swirling coffee, and yet, at the same time they seem to be peering far away.

  Robert responds as if he were welcomed to the table, “What’s on your mind?”

  “Go away!” Radclyf retorts hotly. His loud voice draws the attention of others in the room.

  “You obviously have something on your mind, who better to tell than me?” Robert persists in a well-practiced tone.

  “What would you know? You’re a reporter!” Radclyf responds with mild disdain creeping into his voice.

  Robert feels a glimmer of hope, and ignoring the jibe, replies. “Make me understand then.” He puts a hand into his pocket, and turns on a small recorder.

  Radclyf lifts his eyes away from his mug and stares fiercely at Robert. A few moments of tense silence pass, then finally Radclyf says, “Everyone thought Dog was just some stupid jar head. But you don’t get to live long in my line of business if you’re not smart.”

  Robert slowly nods in agreement, but remains silent.

  With a sigh, Radclyf continues, “This ship, this mission, our casualties; they all remind me of Jim, another man I owe my life too.”

  Robert frowns as he tries to figure out what Dog and Jim had in common. All he can think of is that they were both military men, who died defending the Terran.

  “Get me a fresh coffee will you. This bastard’s cold, and the kitchen hands won’t come near me.” Radclyf smirks at the idea of the kitchen hands being too afraid to approach him.

  Robert nods at the unexpected demand, stands up, and then as he walks away asks, “How do you take it?”

  “White with one sugar.” Radclyf responds as he intently watches the reporter walk away. He just wants his story, he doesn’t really give a toss about me. He thinks as he stares at Robert’s back.

  Returning with two mugs of coffee, Robert hands one to Radclyf. He sits down once again, then enjoys a slow drink from his mug. He has found this strategy works well. It is a great excuse to remain quiet, and allows his interviewees time to speak.

  “You just want something to write about.” Radclyf states indifferently.

  “Yes,” Robert replies honestly. With a shrug of his shoulders, he adds, “It’s what I do.”

  Radclyf had expected some half lie, and is momentarily caught off guard by Robert’s truthfulness. He sighs deeply, then realizing that he is being unfair, apologizes, “It’s not your fault.”

  Robert frowns as he wonders what Radclyf is referring to. He stares across the table, then all of a sudden feels ashamed of his tactics. This man is my friend. He takes the recorder out of his pocket, places it on the table, and then turns it off.

  The two men stare at each other for a few moments. Robert waits apprehensively, as he is unsure how Radclyf is going to react.

  Unexpectedly, Radclyf roars into laughter, “My story is not that good!” He points to the device, and says, “Knock your
self out if you think my ramblings are worth recording.”

  “Yes, it is true that I came down here for a story. But, I also consider you to be my friend, and that must come first.” Robert states with honest conviction.

  Henry and Paul step into the mess hall, then walk toward the two seated men. Radclyf shakes his head and states, more than asks, “Can’t a man enjoy a quiet coffee in peace?”

  Henry chuckles, then replies, “Well, we heard that you had barricaded yourself in here, and were shooting anyone who came in.”

  The group of men laugh at the grossly exaggerated rumor. Radclyf motions to Robert and says, “He wants a story.”

  Paul replies with a wide grin, “You’ve got plenty!”

  Radclyf nods, then with a tinge of sadness, states, “I was thinking of the time we first met Jim, and how he saved our bacon.”

  Henry smiles and states with pride, “Now, that’s a story.”

  One of the young kitchen hands, mainly due to his growing curiosity, finally builds up his courage. He strides purposefully to the Radclyf’s table, takes the empty mug, and then quickly returns with two hot ones for the new arrivals. He sits at a nearby table and excitedly awaits to hear the tales of these combat veterans.

  Radclyf notices the young man’s enthusiasm, then while smiling, slowly shakes his head. “If I had any idea that I was going to be this popular, then perhaps I would have brought weapons.” He feels much better now, and relaxes. He motions to the recorder, “You may as well turn that thing back on, if you want to, that is.”

  Robert hesitates, then after a few moments of deliberation, smiles and replies, “Sure, why not.” He leans forward and presses the record button. He then takes out a small notepad and a pen from his pocket.

  Everyone sits quietly as they wait for Radclyf to start talking. The tables around the group start to fill up, as more and more intrigued people sit down.

  Radclyf clears his throat, then while his eyes rove around, begins in a low, steely voice. “This mission is still deemed as classified, but who cares!” He adds with a shrug of his shoulders.

  After a brief pause, Radclyf begins. “As is often the case, we were on the wrong side of the border, and in trouble. Our Wildcat’s tail rotor had been hit by small arms fire, and we were going down fast. The dense jungle was no place to land, but we had little choice. I clipped a couple of trees coming in, but managed to keep her level. We were slowly spinning around when the tail rotor hit a massive branch, and was ripped clean off.”

  Radclyf pauses to take a drink. People nearby creep closer and listen intently. He puts his mug down and continues in the same low voice, “That was when all hell broke loose. The Wildcat’s nose tilted down, just as about a dozen heavily armed guerillas came running into the small clearing I was aiming for. Our co-pilot, Jeffries, took a round to his chest at about the same time as our door gunner, specialist Davis, fell out. I tried to coax the main rotor to spin, but the engine had quit on me. We were dropping like a stone, down through the tree branches. The sound of branches breaking, along with the constant pinging of bullets was incredible.”

  Radclyf absentmindedly rubs his left leg as memories of the day become fresh in his mind. “I managed to get out of my chair, just as a hail of bullets destroyed the front window and filled the cockpit. Sliding down a massive tree slowed us, but we still must have free-fallen the last twenty feet. The impact crumbled the nose, then miraculously, the Wildcat fell back onto her landing skids. We hit so hard, the slowly spinning main blades dipped, which instantly took out a couple of our attackers.”

  Robert glances up in disbelief, but says nothing.

  Noticing the doubtful expression Henry speaks up, “You’re right, it sounds implausible.” He grins and adds, “He is failing to mention, that even as we fell the last few feet, he was firing the door gun at those jungle fighters. It was quite a sight.”

  “It’s my story!” Radclyf counters. “And I will tell it my way.”

  “Then tell it right!” Henry states defiantly.

  Radclyf waves a hand at Henry in feigned annoyance, then continues, “Okay. So, we’re on the ground. There was Paul, Henry, and four specialists with us. We grabbed as much as we could carry, and got the hell out of there.”

  Robert holds his hand up and asks, “Uh. What about the people who were shooting at you?”

  “Oh, we checked them for gear as well,” Radclyf replies casually.

  With a sigh, Robert presses, “How did they die?”

  “We shot them,” Radclyf states matter-of-factly.

  Henry grins, then leans closer to Robert. While motioning to Radclyf, he replies, “He single handedly took them all out. The rest of us were still strapped in you see.”

  “Whatever!” Radclyf states dismissively. He shakes his head and continues, “Anyway, we were about a day’s walk from friendlies, and still had a mission to complete.”

  The room goes deathly quiet. No one can believe that he was still considering his mission. Surely no sane person would keep going.

  “We were barely out of the small clearing, when the Wildcat blew.” Radclyf shrugs his shoulders, adding, “Paul and I may have set up a trap with some demolition charges, just in case there were more hostiles in the area.” He grins and adds, “I am not sure how many of them we took out. But we didn’t hang around to find out. We followed a trail through the jungle towards our target. Specialist Dan was on point, Mitch and Gary were covering our flanks, while Kip was bringing up the rear.”

  Henry nods his head solemnly and states grimly, “And it was hot, damn hot. Steam was rising from the ground from where it must have rained earlier, and the bugs, they were everywhere.”

  Radclyf grins and adds, “Yeah, it was hot, and muggy.”

  Robert leans in and questions Radclyf, “What mission could be so important, that you kept going?”

  “Hostages my friend. A small group of extremists decided to hijack a tour bus in order to ransom off the passengers.”

  Robert frowns in confusion and says with a doubt filled tone, “A tour bus, in the jungle?”

  “Yeah! Some safari expedition for a group of upper crusts.” Radclyf frowns as he recalls more events of the day, and then continues. “One minute we were in the thick undergrowth, the next we were all standing on the edge of a clearing. A half dozen small watch towers surrounded three single story buildings in the distance.”

  Those listening to Radclyf’s story lean in even closer. The empty chairs are filling up as people throughout the ship get wind of the warrior’s tale being told.

  Radclyf feels his adrenaline kicking in as he recalls, then recounts, the events of the day. “We wanted to wait ‘til nightfall, but that plan was blown when a truck entered the compound from the far side. It was difficult to see what was going on in the distance. But none of us could mistake the hooded figures that were being prodded with guns for anything but captives. We made double time through the heavy foliage, searching for the road. What we found was more like a goat track, winding its way down a small hillside. But it had to be what we were looking for, because there were deep, fresh, tire tracks in the damp mud.”

  “No one saw you?” Calls a curious, and skeptical, voice from the crowd of listeners.

  “We must have gotten lucky,” Radclyf replies with a shrug. With growing excitement, he continues. “We set up a couple of hand grenade traps and didn’t have to wait long. Before all of us could secure our spots in the undergrowth for the ambush, a truck appeared around a bend. The driver had coasted down the slight incline, and then popped the clutch to start its engine. He must have been busy with something in the cab, ‘cause he never even noticed us diving for cover. The truck started up loudly, then just as the driver revved the engine, he set off the grenade trap.”

  Henry grins and adds, “The front of the truck blew up through the cab, going straight through the driver, and ripping its roof clean off. I can still remember how bits of truck were still falling down all around us when the c
amp’s guards came running down the trail.”

  Radclyf glances at Henry, who goes silent, allowing him to continue. “Anyway, we let them get close, really close, then let them have it. We must have taken out at least twenty of them before they knew what was happening.” He shrugs his shoulders once more and adds, “They must have thought the truck blew up, ‘cause none of them had their weapons ready. Before any more could come, we opened the back of the truck up and released the hostages. We then...”

  Robert interrupts the story telling with his questions, “How many hostages were there? Was there a guard in the back?”

  Radclyf stares blankly back at him. It is obvious he does not remember.

  “Nine, and no,” Henry replies for him. He then motions for Radclyf to continue, which he does.

  Radclyf continues as if the interruption had never happened, “We moved down the road as fast as we could. We had stirred up a hornet’s nest, that’s for sure. All we could hear from behind us were the sounds of gunfire and revving engines. We didn’t get far before I found what I was looking for. We had flown over a river earlier, and I had noticed a number of streams that led to it. Coming to one of these streams, I got everyone into the water. We stepped into the creek as if we were heading toward the river. Then, instead, we ducked under what passed as a wooden bridge, and headed upstream through the thick overhanging branches and shrubs.”

  Paul grins as he shakes his head, “I can still hear the posh buggers complaining about the way we were shoving them.”

  Henry chuckles as well, and adds, “What was the name of that one we gagged because he wouldn’t shut up?”

  The room goes quiet for a few moments, as those listening anxiously wait for the answer.

  Radclyf shakes his head and replies, “I can’t remember.” After a brief pause he continues, “It wasn’t long before we could hear vehicles stopping, and someone loudly giving orders. I could hear people sloshing through the water, they were heading downstream, and away from us. It was right about this time, when one of the upper crusts sneezed. Then the bloody idiot apologized! The sneeze was loud enough, but the boisterous twat raised his voice, just to make sure that we all heard his sincere apology. Pompous arse! I could have shot him right there and then.”