Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles)

by James Jackson

  Barbara nods to a pair of assistants, and then sits down. They close the room’s curtains, and then turn on a projector. An image of Barbara standing before the small alien spacecraft appears on the screen. “This vessel is a scout ship which belongs to a race who call themselves, Picaroon. We do not know if other scout craft exist, or exactly where this one originated from. Initial information indicates that this ship flew in from the very edge of our galaxy an unknown number of years ago, perhaps thousands of years. However, it has only been resting at the bottom of this lake for approximately one hundred years. Where it has been in the meantime is still a mystery. Sadly, either due to the passing of time, or perhaps the pilot’s own efforts, most of the craft’s data files are damaged.”

  Many in the room are stunned by the age of the craft, especially considering the excellent condition that it is in. A quiet uneasy murmuring fills the room.

  The image on the screen changes to show Barbara standing before the emaciated, alien body. “This is a Picaroon. They are slightly taller and heavier than an average human male. The most striking features are their sharp canine teeth, six fingers and toes, and as we will see in a recovered log, their pink colored eyes.”

  Even Barbara shifts impatiently as she waits for the next segment of the recording. Finally, the image changes to show a living alien. Many in the room gasp at the sight.

  The Picaroon’s pale skin exaggerates its pink within pink eyes. The creatures breathing seems labored, and sweat drops from its large forehead. The alien runs his hands through his dark hair and then speaks in a deep, gravelly voice. “This will be my last log entry, as I doubt I have much time left. To my brethren, know this, I did not abandon my mission, Dagris failed us. There is no going back, all our efforts have been wasted. Joldar out.”

  The recording then fades to a blank screen. While the aides open the curtains, Barbara continues talking, “We still have yet to determine what the reference to Dagris means, and to what efforts he is referring. What we do know, is that this alien, a male of its species, decided to live out the last of his days on this world. He made fishing line from his ship’s data cables, hunted animals, and built a crude shelter. It would also seem that he also ate an infected buffalo.”

  General Walker chuckles as he says, “Damn, all that technology, and this alien was no smarter than us!”

  Many of the people in the room begin to laugh, if for no reason other than the irony of an advanced race falling for the same thing they did.

  Barbara holds up a hand, and finishes the meeting, “We’re still attempting to discover where this mother ship is, and, we also hope to find out where this craft has been for all of these years.”

  The volume in the room climbs as those present begin asking questions. Barbara does her best to answer them, but disappointingly, her response is more often than not, an exasperated. “We don’t know.”

  Location:

  Starship Terran

  Twenty One Thousand Light Years from Earth

  Lifeless Planet

  Gamin Derelict

  The days have turned into weeks, and still the Terran rests upon the ground of this distant and desolate planet. Mottled grey clouds of poisonous gasses swirl overhead, and continue to add to the bleak scenery. The heavily damaged Gamin ship resides nearby. The specialized tunnels that connect the two ships continues to allow people to move freely between the grounded spacecraft. Thousands of engineers work around the clock to remove as much technology as they can, with particular focus being on the weapons and the shield generators. The hangar deck slowly fills with items recovered from the derelict.

  The rescued Gamin remain in their secure and isolated area, well away from any of the ship’s systems. Though Waazh freely moves around the ship, he does so under the constant scrutiny of dedicated security teams. Initially pleased with being rescued from their confines, knowing their ship is being dismantled is disparaging to the Gamin. Waazh’s visits to the bridge, and other areas of the ship, become less frequent. He remains with his people and tries to be patient as he waits for the day they leave.

  BEEP

  Cindy and Joe turn in unison at the noise, and stare blankly at the Navicon unit. Its small console flashes brightly for a few seconds, then stops. Before anyone can speak, a gravelly message sounds out from the speakers on the bridge. “Regent Voknor calling for clan assistance. We are under heavy attack and unable to disengage. All will be lost without immediate relief.”

  The message repeats itself, while at the same time, a set of galactic co-ordinates appear on the console’s screen.

  Joe gets to work figuring out where Regent Voknor’s fleet is. Seconds later, he reports, “Oh my. They are at the Kord space station; the one where Olaf’s body is. It’s where we dropped off Golward, along with the other Kord survivors.”

  When no one responds, Joe glances back at Cindy, and unnecessarily adds, “You know, where our ship was repaired, and where we were given the advanced power module that got us home.”

  Joe looks at the others on the bridge in anguish, “Without help from either the Regent, or the Kord, we would probably all be dead.”

  Cindy nods in agreement as she casts her gaze across the entire bridge crew. She stops at George, and asks, “George, you know them better than any of us. What are your thoughts?”

  George steps from his suit, and with a heavy heart, says, “Despite our differences, Sharz and I became friends. When the terrorists destroyed the bridge to Manhattan Island, he brought a shuttle to us, and transported my family to safety. He helped us when he did not have to. We should return the favor.”

  Joe nods in agreement as he adds his words, “If we don’t help our mates, what kind of people are we?”

  Cindy considers their comments, and her options, for a few seconds. She comes to a decision, and with venom in her voice, she gives her orders, “John, get us off this planet as fast as you can. We will assist!”

  John smiles widely as he responds, “Yes ma’am!”

  Cindy taps her chair’s console, “We’re on our way, Regent.”

  Regent Voknor’s reply is almost instantaneous, “No! Our entire fleet is being slaughtered. Two more clans are coming to assist. Besides, what can your one ship do? You will merely come to your deaths if you arrive before they do.”

  Cindy looks at each of her bridge crew and gauges them before she says, “No matter the risk, we help our friends.”

  Everyone on the bridge nods in agreement. Cindy smiles at their support, and then her expression hardens as she taps her chair’s console again. With conviction, she issues her orders, “All hands return to the Terran, this is not a drill. Emergency lift off in ten minutes. If you are not on board, you will be left behind!”

  Joe turns to Cindy and simply says, “Wow.” He feels a chill; he knows she means it.

  Cindy cringes as she asks, “Where is the Victory?”

  It takes John and Joe precious minutes, but finally, Joe has the answer they all want to hear, “Victory is in range, and will rendezvous with us in orbit.”

  Many of the men and women complain about the equipment they have to leave behind, and of the numerous components that they are close to removing from the derelict.

  Fourteen minutes later, the last straggler staggers on board, exhausted from his sprint. Cindy has been anxiously monitoring this last man’s progress; a part of her was tempted to leave him, as she promised. Mere seconds after he stumbles up the ramp, the Terran lifts off, leaving behind a massive blast wave of dust in its wake. The engineers watch in horror as the access ways to the tunnels slide out of the hangar, and fall to the ground. Their frantic efforts to disconnect the power, complete mere seconds before they lift off.

  John accelerates the ship to maximum thruster speed, while at the same time, he aligns their trajectory toward the source of the distress signal. Their assent is so swift that the landing struts are still retracting when the Victory enters the hangar deck.

  Robyn taps her console with s
haky fingers and says, “We’re on board.” Piloting the Victory into the Terran while it was moving has been an experience she does not want to repeat ever again.

  John closes the Terran’s ramp and as soon as the ship clears the planet’s atmosphere, he activates the sub-light engines, and pushes them to maximum. Checking his console one more time, he then engages the main drive as soon as the system indicates it is safe to do so. Almost warily, John slides his finger along the screens graph, all the way to the eighth, and uppermost block.

  Turning to Cindy, John’s tone is quite serious as he reports, “Factor seven point eight! I hope we make it in time; because even at this speed, we’re about forty minutes out.”

  Cindy clenches her jaw and fists in anger, but does not reply. She knows that her crew is doing all they can. The Terran seems to throb as raw power is fed to the main engines at an astronomical rate. Deck plates vibrate throughout the entire ship, and the ship’s navigational shields glow spectacularly as particles strike them.

  Joe stares at his laptop, its open screen shaking wildly. Concerned it will fall, he closes it.

  Kitchen hands quickly secure pots and pans, while in hydroponics Emma shakes her head at the rattling water pipes, “Oh no. Not again,” she says to herself quietly.

  Reactor control crewmen are alarmed as all twenty reactors go from idling, to one hundred percent in seconds, creating a cascade of alarms in the process. They stare at their controls, then heave a sigh of relief. A specialized breaker circuit prevents the Gamin systems from drawing more power than the reactors are designed to output. This circuit was designed by Joe, and installed by George earlier this week.

  Joe monitors the ship’s power usage, and is surprised to see that the drain on the ship’s capacitors is lower than he expects. He turns to Cindy and reports, “We will arrive with approximately thirty percent remaining in our reserves.”

  “Understood.” Cindy replies impassively.

  Robert arrives on the bridge and frowns with confusion as he watches the tense bridge crew in action. He shakes his head slowly as he grasps where they are going. In a bewildered tone, he asks, “Cindy, why are we rushing into danger to help the Gamin?”

  Cindy sighs, turns her gaze to George, and then says, “Because we help our friends, and Sharz is in danger.”

  Robert opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it. There is no arguing with Cindy when she has made up her mind, and he can see the entire bridge crew supports her actions.

  Far away from the bridge, the rescued Gamin glance around nervously. With mounting fear, they turn to their leader for answers. Waazh feels a strange uneasiness as the metal beneath his feet shakes, similar to what they experienced in the tunnels during a ground tremor. He turns to his fellow Gamin and says, “I will get answers.”

  Exiting the air lock, Waazh confronts the guards. Before he can speak one of them contacts the bridge and nervously relays his observations about the Gamin. He listens to Cindy’s instructions and then relaxes. He turns to Waazh and says, “You can come with me to the bridge, if you wish.”

  Waazh bares his teeth as he replies, “I wish it!” A pair of guards silently escorts the Gamin leader to the bridge, where he is directed to a sit next to Robert. Waazh is becoming annoyed over his people being treated like criminals. He remains standing, stares at Cindy and bares his teeth while flexing the bone spikes in his forearms.

  Cindy is unimpressed by his display. She tilts her head at Waazh and states with conviction, “You can either sit and watch, or return to your colleagues. The choice is yours.”

  Waazh is about to reply, but then he notices how intense the bridge crew is. His curiosity outweighs his indignity, so after with one last scowl, he sits down. Robert offers him a smile and then adjusts his legs so as to not accidently bump the alien.

  Joe diligently seals off every section of the Terran that he can. He has no idea what is in store for them, but plans to be as prepared as possible.

  A few minutes pass, then Cindy taps her chair’s armrest, activating the ship-wide communications. With a serious tone, she speaks, “Attention all crew. Prepare for combat.” She turns to Waazh and says, “Regent Voknor, the clan leader I spoke of when we first met, is under attack. We are proceeding to assist.”

  Waazh stares back blankly. He has learned more of the Terran’s capabilities than he should have, and is suddenly concerned for all of them.

  Chapter Eight - Into the Fray

  Location:

  Starship Terran

  Kord Space Station

  Forty-two minutes later, John disengages the main engines, instantly slowing the Terran to sub-light speeds, and into madness. The forward view is filled with spacecraft, both small and large. Thousands of small craft weave in and out of the dozens of Gamin ships.

  Joe motions through the chaos to the colossal Kord space station, and states with a surprise-filled voice, “Look, it’s still there!” He taps on his console as fast as he can, reads the data displayed, then happily reports. “Regent Voknor’s flagship is on the far side.” Joe’s cheerfulness is short lived as he gloomily adds, “I am also detecting vast amounts of debris.”

  Each of the debris fields is all that remains of a Gamin spacecraft. Occasional explosions resonate from the larger remnants which float in expanding islands of flotsam. Beyond the battle, a blue-green world completes the backdrop to the scene.

  Cindy stares at the combat scene before her, and smiles devilishly, “Head for that ship.” She says, pointing at the screen.

  Joe quickly identifies the target, and nods his head, “An Atlan carrier by the looks of it, just like the one we saw the last time we were in the neighborhood.”

  John swings the ship around, then slides the sub-light controller to its half way mark, “E.T.A. three minutes.” He states emphatically.

  Peter gives Cindy a nod, and activates the Terran’s pair of rail guns. “Charging weapons.”

  Waazh stares at the sight in bewilderment. He has never seen a space battle, and the epic sight before him is overwhelming. The space station is the size of a small moon, and easily dwarfs the monstrous spacecraft. He glances at Cindy with renewed admiration, then turns his attention back to the raging battle.

  The space station’s numerous docking rings are peppered with smudge marks from weapons strikes. Surprisingly, the station’s core also shows significant signs of damage.

  Suddenly, a Gamin ship the same size as the Terran, explodes between them and the station. Seconds later another Gamin ship breaks apart, its engines seem to fall away from the main hull, then explode spectacularly. Amazingly, the spacecraft’s main body continues to move, its sub-light engines pulsing erratically.

  Joe’s jaw drops in disbelief as he stares past the destroyed ship, and at the Kord station itself. He points at one of its larger docking rings and exclaims. “Oh my! Look at that!”

  An exceptionally bright light flares out from the station, momentarily blinding their sensors. Fires of unimaginable ferocity are extinguished as quickly as they begin by the cold vacuum of space. The docking ring where the fires began, breaks apart. Huge sections spin and tumble away from the source of the explosion.

  Joe turns to Cindy and says, “That section housed at least ten docks, each of which could have easily held this ship.”

  John grits his teeth as the Terran plows headlong through a debris field, sweeping aside the remnants of destroyed craft. Exiting the wreckage, he breaks into a smile, the Atlan Carrier is directly ahead of them.

  Regent Voknor’s fleet is having issues of their own. Seven ships have either been, destroyed, or are incapable of escaping the battle. The remaining ships are doing their best to survive the battle. The Regent’s flagship has suffered considerable damage to its thick armor, but remains fully functional otherwise.

  Cindy narrows her eyes as she stares at a strange mist ahead of them. With mounting fear, she realizes that the mist is actually hundreds of Atlan fighters, and they are heading their way.


  Joe glances to John nervously, then after a few seconds, states more than asks, “You can see them, can’t you?”

  John seems to ignore the comment as he taps on his console. He swallows hard, then a few seconds later says, “Going to full power on the sub-light engines, prepare to fire.”

  Waazh glances around apprehensively as the Atlan carrier seems to leap at them. He stares at the bridge crew in bewilderment, and wonders if they are suicidal. Robert is sitting up in his chair, hurriedly tapping on a portable computer, while Peter is simply leaning back in his, observing. Emma seems to be the only one who appears scared. Waazh brings his attention back to the forward view with growing apprehension. The Atlan carrier now fills the screen, while the fighters seem to have disappeared from view.

  Joe frowns as he reviews more data, and shares his thoughts, “There are too many fighters for one carrier, even one that big.”

  Without warning dozens of lights flash across the front of the Terran as laser beams strike the hull. Each beam either melts a furrow into the Terran’s armor, or peels a section completely away.

  Cindy considers Joe’s words, leans forward, and with grim determination, orders, “Peter, fire the rail guns. John, keep us on target.”

  The rail guns launch their projectiles at close to the speed of light. They find their mark seconds later, and impact harmlessly against the carrier’s powerful shields. The Terran’s bridge crew goes deathly quiet as they watch their best shot, do nothing.

  A strange sound escapes Robert’s mouth. A second carrier cruises into view, and hangs in space right before them. They are heading straight for its side. It suddenly unleashes all hell from its flank, as does the carrier they attacked seconds ago. Dozens of lasers strike the Terran, each of which is considerably more powerful than those on the smaller fighters.

  John rolls the Terran in a desperate bid to spread the damage across as wide an area as possible. Long deep gouges run along the Terran’s armor wherever the lasers strike. He frantically attempts to maneuver away from both carriers while alarms warning of imminent hull breaches appear on his console.