Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles)

by James Jackson

  Young Voknor is perplexed, both resource ships have abundant reserves, and yet here he is performing crude patch-up jobs; some of which are borderline dangerous. He considers contacting either of the two ships he previously served on, in secret, but instead decides to follow his teachings, and obey the orders of his superior.

  Through sheer determination and tenacity, he is finally able to figure out a way to restore the gravity to the affected area. A few cycles later, the Master Engineer stops young Voknor and arrogantly states, “See, you didn’t need any resources, you needed to be more efficient.” He presses callously, “I don’t know why your previous crews thought you were good. I find your lack of skill and knowledge disturbing; a first-year youngling could have repaired that deck plating! I will be adding that to my report.”

  The Engineer storms off, leaving Voknor wondering why the Engineer is vexed with him.

  Expendable

  Regent Xasturz stares at the scene before him emotionlessly; some thirty Atlan craft arrived in system moments ago, and immediately began attacking his fleet. He stares at the planet below and curses; it would have been an excellent source of resources, but no longer, not with the Atlans in the area.

  One of the bridge crew turns and states, “Regent, the fleet is coming under heavy fire.”

  Xasturz hisses back, “I can see that!”

  The crewman turns back to face his console, and waits along with the rest of the bridge crew for their orders.

  An evil grin fills Xasturz’s face as he instructs, “Tell the Prime Roggard to hold fast, while the fleet escapes.”

  Receiving his instructions, Prime Roggard stares stoically at his own bridge crew, and then commands, “You heard our Regent; now make for the nearest enemy craft and fire everything we have at it.”

  As the rest of the Gamin fleet departs, more and more Atlan vessels close on Roggard’s vessel. Their craft’s thin layer of armor is no match for the Atlan’s energy weapons. Gas and debris vent from dozens of breaches to the hull, and yet they fight on. The Gamin weapons have little effect on the Atlan fleet.

  An enemy vessel moves in front of Roggard’s, and fires point blank. The bridge takes a direct hit, shattering the viewscreen, and buckling the inner supports.

  “Move!” Shouts Prime Roggard as the superstructure above collapses onto the four workstations before him, killing two of his bridge officers instantly. A third lays pinned against his console, his ribs partially crushed. His breathing comes in shallow bloody wheezes; his punctured lungs slowly drowning him.

  Roggard stares at his fracture viewscreen, and demands, “Has the fleet escaped?”

  His remaining officer staggers to a rearward console, then after a moment, reports, “All ships are free and clear.”

  Prime Roggard does not hesitate, and immediately orders, “Get us out of here!”

  The crewman activates the primary engines, then flinches when his console reports that one engine is severely damaged, and the output from the other is less than eighty percent. The overall damage to the ship’s hull, and systems, reduces their top speed drastically; the ship shudders and shakes as it hobbles through space.

  Below decks, things are in worse shape than on the bridge. The surviving crew stares fearfully around, alarmed by the creaks and groans emanating from the superstructure. There are more hull breaches than anyone can count, with entire decks devoid of atmosphere and life. More than one third of the crew is either dead or missing, presumably blown out into space.

  Youngling Voknor stares out through a massive hole in the ship’s armor, the energy shields sparkle as they threaten to fail at any moment. He hurries to find a hull plate, or something, to cover the gaping hole. Elsewhere on the ship, other crew members conduct makeshift repairs with the little they have available to them.

  Prime Roggard stares at the console and feels a chill run up his spine. It has taken them a complete duty cycle to reach the rendezvous coordinates given, but all that greets them is open space. The days turn into weeks as they search for the rest of the fleet. His crew valiantly repairs the battle damage, scavenging from their own craft to do so.

  Regent Xasturz stares at the incoming ship in shock. The viewscreen displays the craft’s extensive battle scars, causing the bridge crew to murmur in disbelief. How the ship survived is beyond them, and then finding the fleet after their departure, a pure miracle.

  Prime Roggard contacts Regent Xasturz via audio only, and states blandly, “The enemy was distracted long enough for you to safely depart. I serve my Regent!”

  Xasturz responds blandly, “Casualties?”

  The Regent’s bridge crew is stunned; they have never heard him ask about casualties before.

  Roggard spits out his reply, “Fully one third of my crew perished, along with three of my bridge officers,” he adds with heavy sarcasm, “your son yet lives, Regent!”

  Xasturz goes into a fit of rage, slamming his claws on the sides of his command chair, digging long deep grooves into the ancient material in the process. He stares at the battered ship that approaches and growls before replying, “Rejoin the fleet.”

  Prime Roggard responds, “Regent, my ship is in dire need of resources, to complete repairs.”

  Xasturz responds callously, “You seem to have done just fine; manage with what you have.”

  Roggard stares at his shattered bridge in disbelief, then slowly replies, “As you wish, my Regent.”

  “Oh, one last thing, Prime Roggard,” Xasturz commands, “as youngling Voknor is denied access to the bridge, you will have to source replacement officers from other candidates.”

  “Understood.” Roggard replies, completely disgusted with the situation. He is displeased that his right to command his ship, and crew, as he sees fit, is supplanted, but he complies with the Regent’s wishes.

  Regent Xasturz considers the destruction of one or two support craft an acceptable loss, and pays no heed to the growing aversion to him, and instead turns more of his thoughts to ways of eliminating his son.

  Young Voknor is transferred from support craft to support craft as each is cycled through the dangerous duty of being the first to arrive at planetary systems. He earns the loathing of these crews as it becomes clear that their Regent continues to put his son in unnecessary danger, year after year. Fortunately, this is a quiet time for the fleet and, apart from a few minor skirmishes with various raiders, there are no major engagements. The only craft to suffer any real damage is the one to arrive in system, or on occasion, be assigned to cover the fleet’s retreat. This is always the craft Voknor is aboard.

  Prime Roggard flinches when he receives orders that Voknor is to be assigned to his ship once more, as a lower deck repair hand. Though it has been many years, his ship has still not recovered from the last time young Voknor was on board. He sighs when he reads his additional orders to take position as the lead ship until further notice.

  Young Voknor understands the crew’s anxiety, so he stays to himself. A few days after arriving on board he is repairing a forward weapon’s system, when three burly adults approach him.

  One of them pokes Voknor roughly as he states, “You’re the reason we keep getting assigned dangerous missions.”

  Another adds, “Every vessel you are on ends up damaged, and crew dies.”

  Voknor’s eyes go wide as the third lifts a huge metal bar and says, “Now if you were to have an accident, then perhaps we will get to live.”

  The other two grab Voknor’s arms before he has a chance to run. They pin him to the wall as the third lifts the metal bar over his head. The young Gamin is no match for the muscular adults, no matter how much he struggles. As the bar swings downward, he closes his eyes.

  He waits for the inevitable, but the bar never hits him.

  Voknor opens his eyes as his arms are freed, and watches in awe as a single Gamin takes on the other three, easily defeating them. His savior crushes the bar wielder’s neck as he spits, “Cowards die!”

  As the last
of them falls, the Gamin who saved him turns and states, “I am Prytec, leader of this ship’s combat garrison.” He runs his gaze up and down Voknor, then adds disapprovingly, “You need training!”

  Voknor swallows hard, then replies, “Yes I do.”

  Prytec stares at Voknor for a few moments, further measuring and evaluating him, and then says, “When you’re off duty, find me. I will train you.”

  Voknor blinks in surprise as he asks, “Why would you do this for me? You know they are right. My presence here is a danger to you all.”

  Prytec steps closer and venomously states, “Yes. They are right! But that is not our way, nor will it be on this ship, not while I live.”

  Voknor nods respectfully and states, “Thank you.”

  Publicly, Regent Xasturz ignores his son, and makes sure that Voknor spends more time in each assignment than any other youngling, thus denying him many promotional opportunities. Young Voknor uses this time to learn, and unwittingly, continues to gain the respect of those around him.

  The Regent is further vexed when year after year he is not supplied with another heir. No matter how many eggs he claims for himself, not one hatches. Other males become disgruntled as they are denied their right to fertilize eggs, and are forced to wait.

  While most younglings spend one hundred years or so performing minor assignments, Voknor spends twice as long. Indeed, it is not until his two hundredth birthday, that he is finally assigned a bridge duty post on one of the support craft. He stands almost as tall as a full adult. His pale green scales are beginning to mottle, as they do with maturity. No longer deemed a youngling, Voknor travels proudly by shuttle to his first bridge assignment.

  Prime Zennick is pleased to have the skilled Gamin assigned to his ship once more, but this time as a bridge officer, instead of the lower decks. He knows that he is not only hard working, but that he has a tenacity rarely seen, mixed with an uncanny patience. The second the shuttle arrives; he has Voknor report directly to him.

  Voknor steps onto the bridge of a Gamin vessel for the first time in his life, and stops. He stares with awe at the sight before him. Dominating the area is an impressive command chair, resting upon a raised dais. Before this are four consoles, at which sits the bridge crew, all of whom turn to look at the new arrival. Two empty seats occupy either side of the bridge, while consoles where other crew members would stand take up space on either side of the entry way.

  The escort prods Voknor in the back, and says, “Go on!”

  Voknor steps before the seated Prime. Zennick waves his arm and states, “Welcome to my command, young Voknor. Prove your worth, and you will earn your place on...”

  Prime Zennick is interrupted by Xasturz’s features, which unexpectedly dominate the viewscreen. “Attention all clan ships, Prime Zennick will assume initial contact duties until further notice.”

  The second the screen returns to display the stars ahead; the entire bridge crew turns once more to look at their newest arrival.

  Prime Zennick angrily spits out, “Initial contact duties, indefinitely. He means until we’re all dead!”

  Voknor glances around warily. Again, he has become a threat to the safety of this crew, and the way of the Gamin is to remove such threats.

  Zennick considers his options for a moment, then stands and strides purposefully to Voknor. He places a hand on his shoulder as he states, “As a member of my crew, you fall under my protection.”

  Voknor is unsure what to say, and simply responds, “It is an honor to serve you.”

  Zennick casts his eyes at the viewscreen, then says flatly, “We all serve the Regent.” After a moment’s reflection, he turns back to Voknor and motions to the consoles on either side of the doorway as he states, “Choose your station young Voknor.”

  At first Voknor feels out of place on the bridge, but he soon becomes comfortable with the accepting bridge crew.

  Meanwhile, Zennick recalls the day he saw Roggard’s vessel limping its way back to the fleet. That craft continues to perform badly to this day, its engines and superstructure are clearly still damaged beyond the crew’s abilities to repair them. He wonders if his command will share such a fate? He also wonders whether it is time to issue a formal challenge to the Regent. He spends a lot of time debating the issues of loyalty.

  Chapter Four - Suddenly, it’s a War Zone

  “Alarm!” Screeches from the speakers throughout Prime Zennick’s spacecraft.

  Zennick stares at the main viewer and curses, “Oh Crap. Give me data, damn it!”

  Young Voknor reviews the information on his console, then replies, “It’s a new class of Atlan spacecraft, some sort of carrier. It’s launched…” he pauses, gazes at his screen, and then slowly says, “…around two hundred and fifty smaller craft.”

  Voknor glances up at the main screen where, beyond the carrier, he sees the planet the Regent had hoped to use to replenish the fleet’s dwindling resources.

  Prime Zennick does not hesitate, “Fire at the smaller craft.” He orders as he watches the main view intently.

  One of the bridge officers turns to Zennick and states with trepidation, “They are avoiding our tracking systems, and when we do hit one, their shields withstand the impact!”

  “Coordinate multiple weapons onto each fighter.” Zennick immediately orders.

  Seconds later, three pounders fire as one. Their kinetic weapons streak out and strike one of the fighters.

  “Yes!” Shouts out Voknor as the craft explodes, briefly becoming a fiery plume.

  The bridge crew turns at the outburst, but when Zennick does not offer a reprimand, they relax and cheer along. The Prime smiles, he understands that the crew needs a boost to their morale right now.

  Zennick’s smile freezes as he stares at the main viewer, perplexed, he then asks, “Where are the fighters going?”

  It takes the senior bridge officers a moment to discover what the smaller craft are doing. The answer sends a chill down everyone’s spine, “They’re targeting the engines!”

  It becomes clear to all that if they stay, the fleet will perish.

  As if reading their minds, Regent Xasturz’s image appears on the screen, along with a single word instruction, “Evacuate!” His visage vanishes as fast as it appears, along with his flagship.

  Voknor frowns as he watches other ships of the fleet streak away into space, seemingly in random directions. Seconds later, the main viewscreen turns into a cascade of colors, as they too accelerate beyond the speed of light.

  Young Voknor is curious, and dares ask, “Prime Zennick, as spacecraft cannot turn in space when traveling faster than light, why did we all spilt up and not go to the same place?”

  Zennick turns at the question, pauses for a moment, then answers, “Our Regent feels that by splitting up, the Atlans will only be able to follow one of our craft, providing the rest of the fleet a safe escape.”

  “But if the enemy follows one ship, it could be overwhelmed and destroyed.” Voknor responds.

  “Acceptable risk, with acceptable casualties.” Prime Zennick responds, then adds, “As per our Regent’s orders.”

  Voknor mutters under his breath, “Waste of resources and lives!”

  Zennick immediately stands and reprimands, “As an officer, even a junior officer, if you have an opinion, you WILL share it, young Voknor!”

  Voknor wilts under his Prime’s scrutiny, then realizing that he really is meant to repeat his words, warily states, “Each ship that is lost is a waste of resources and lives.”

  “Indeed.” Zennick replies. He stares at Voknor for a moment and then asks, “Perhaps you would do something different?”

  Voknor lowers his gaze and replies, “Forgive my outburst, Prime Zennick.”

  “Outburst!” Zennick replies as he grabs his sides and laughs, “It’s what many of us have been thinking!”

  He frowns, then asks, “Of the Regent being wrong?”

  Zennick’s expression turns serious as he replies, “We
vow our lives to the Regent, as you will vow yours to me when the time comes. I will follow our Regent’s orders, no matter what they are. He is our clan leader; it is the way of things.”

  Voknor lowers his gaze as he replies, “I meant no disrespect. This is my first bridge assignment. When I was below decks, I had no idea what was happening, and I too followed my orders.”

  Prime Zennick gazes around as he states, “My officers are permitted a voice on my bridge, even you, a junior officer, but all follow my orders.”

  The bridge crew nods their heads in agreement. Young Voknor has unwittingly earned their respect this day.

  The fleet spends the rest of the duty cycle regrouping and, fortunately, has suffered no casualties. However, many vessels have damage to their engine support struts, which are repaired in open space, between the stars. Young Voknor’s experience is tested when he is assigned to the engineering group tasked with examining ship’s engine struts. Voknor listens to the others as they point out subtle signs of stress fractures, and then go about repairing damage that was almost indiscernible.

  Regent Xasturz watches with pride as his repaired fleet moves onward once more. He stares at the regional map, his clan’s zone of control, and grimaces. More and more worlds are proving to either be useless, or seemingly under Atlan observation. He assigns Zennick’s ship to forge ahead.

  Prime Zennick’s craft continues to lead the fleet as the Regent orders world after world be examined.

  “Alarm!” Blares the speakers over Voknor’s head once more.

  Prime Zennick cringes, then orders, “Inform the Regent that an Atlan force awaits us.

  Hundreds of smaller craft approach the lone Gamin vessel, firing energy weapons as they get into range.

  Zennick uncharacteristically shouts, “Why is it taking us so long to plot an escape trajectory? Get us away from those cursed Atlans!”

  Voknor stands at his console and stares at the data with growing trepidation. The Atlan fighters have already scored many direct hits on their engines, and although their shields show that they are holding, the armor beneath is showing signs of damage. He is perplexed by this, and is about to ask how this is possible when he is violently flung to one side. He regains his feet painfully, and then stares at the naked stars through a massive hole where the upper bridge workings should be.