Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles)

by James Jackson

  Lilpax shouts, “I have energy readings, and bio signatures!”

  Skylow turns to her and says, “Are you sure you have life signs? From that?”

  Frazik hurries onto the bridge, and says, “My apologies…” He stops midsentence at the view before him, then adds doubtfully, “survivors?”

  “Yes!” Lilpax replies, excitedly.

  Voknor taps on his armrests for a moment, then orders, “Contact them!”

  A few moments later, Skylow responds, “Two underground facilities have responded, they call themselves Mackibies. The translators are having difficulty, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that they are asking for help.”

  “I bet they are!” Cushkull comments.

  Voknor suppresses a smile, then says, “How many survivors?”

  Skylow reviews his data twice before responding, “Almost six hundred, between both facilities. But they report many injuries, and they have numerous other problems. Neither facility will have power for much longer, and once that is depleted, their environmental systems will shut down.”

  Regent Voknor stands, then paces the bridge for a few moments, before saying, “What would be the risks in mounting a rescue mission?”

  Everyone goes quiet at the idea; no one had considered rescuing the hapless survivors.

  Frazik taps on his console, then in a flurry of activity, he runs a series of simulations before reporting, “Five craft, with shields at maximum would be required to protect the shuttles from the vast debris field. But, the main issue is getting those inhabitants into the shuttles!”

  Voknor stops pacing as an idea suddenly comes to mind. He tilts his head and asks, “How many servitor bodysuits did my father construct?”

  Lilpax frowns in confusion; she has no idea what Voknor is talking about.

  Skylow reviews his data, then replies, “Seventy-three.”

  “Okay,” Voknor replies, then says, “I plan to rescue the survivors, and transport them to an uninhabited planet, one they can live on.”

  “Regent!” Intones his main crew, baffled by his seeming concern for these strangers.

  Lilpax is confused, and asks, “My Regent, may I dare ask why?”

  While the other officers cringe at her naive boldness, she simply stares at the shattered planet.

  Voknor gazes at her, then says, “She is merely asked the question you’re all wondering. Well, it’s this simple. We spend our lives taking, and killing. For once, I would like to do something constructive, before we mine that planet’s core!”

  It takes the engineers quite a while to come up with a proper rescue solution, and then implement it. In the meantime, newly promoted Prime Bralk has the challenging task of collecting resources.

  Voknor sits back and watches as five ships from his fleet form a protective barrier against the debris field, and then launch dozens of shuttles, each carrying three bodysuit-wearing soldiers, along with a handful of servitor suits.

  The shuttles split into two groups, with half approaching each of the underground facilities. The bodysuits protect the crews, who remain tethered to their respective shuttles, while they absorb their way to the entrances. Next, they construct makeshift airlocks, then breach the facilities.

  Skylow has relayed their instructions, which the trapped people gratefully follow. Each of them is handed a translator, then encased in a bodysuit, one which is only operating as a temporary life support system. Strong cables connect each of the suits, allowing the Gamin to pull them into the shuttles, like strings of beads.

  The survivors are transported to the flagship, where they cough and sputter as they are released from their suits. As they fall to the ground, choking, the crew gets a good look at them. They are short, with large heads, each topped with a colorful variety of hair. A small nose rests above a wide mouth, and below a pair of narrow eyes, giving them an odd appearance. The Gamin who are watching chuckle. It is no wonder they are tethered; their hands and feet are unable to reach anything. They first group stares fearfully at the Gamin guards which surround them. None mistake the weapons for anything else, and dread their fate. The shuttles make trip after trip, until all are rescued.

  Voknor makes his way to a balcony that overlooks them, then shouts, “I am Regent Voknor of the Gamin. We will transport you all to a world where you can survive, and perhaps rebuild your civilization.”

  One of them shouts, “How can we, we have nothing!” He then collapses to the deck in a coughing fit.

  Voknor leans over the balcony and replies, “You have your lives, more than you were going to have! You should be thankful we did not leave you to rot!”

  Another of them calls out, “We do thank you! And you are right, our facilities were not going to sustain us for much longer.” He pokes the other of his kind who spoke, and then motions to the armed guards which surround them.

  Voknor stares at them and wonders what would have become of his people if they had been rescued soon after the Atlans rendered the surface of the Gamin home world inhospitable. It then dawns on him that he, like many others, hatched on board one of the fleet’s many ships, and does not have a true home world. With a shake of his head, he returns to the bridge.

  The exposed planetary core is difficult to mine, but contains elements rarely accessible, thus making the effort well worth it. While the fleet’s resources are being replenished, the search begins for a world for the rescued peoples. Crude facilities are constructed for them in the hangar deck, while the cooks attempt, unsuccessfully, to satisfy their dietary needs.

  Lilpax is surprised by the attitude of the people they rescued. Many of whom seem ungrateful. It then dawns on her that they may not fully comprehend the extent of their planet’s damage.

  Cushkull turns to Lilpax and says, “You want me to what?”

  She sighs, then repeats, “Turn the ship so that the hangar bay faces the planet, then open the ramp. Let those we saved see what remains of their world.”

  He glances to Voknor, who simply shrugs and says, “It may shut them up. If I hear another one of them complain, I may just take them back!”

  The moment the ramp begins to open, those rescued begin to panic until one of them shouts, “Idiots, look at how many aliens are not wearing any protection! We’re not going to be sucked into space.”

  Lilpax has made her way to watch from one of the upper levels, and shakes her head as she mumbles, “Such a primitive species.”

  “Yeah,” Replies a bystander, “I still can’t figure out why we saved the sniveling fools.”

  Lilpax had not expected an answer, and smiles as she replies, “I asked that very question.”

  The older Gamin suddenly realizes who he is speaking to, and quickly backpedals, stammering, “I meant no disrespect to our Regent!”

  “It’s okay.” She responds absentmindedly, as she continues to stare at those below, “All we do is take from the races we encounter, and now we have an opportunity to give back, and do some good.”

  “Well, we are to survive at all costs!” States the bystander, quoting the Den Mothers’ teachings.

  Lilpax points downward and says, “Perhaps they will prosper, perhaps not, but consider this; what if the Den Mothers’ teachings applied to all races, equally?”

  “I think we have the right to do anything, in order to survive!” He replies boldly, gaining confidence.

  “Many follow the old ways,” She replies as she glances at the unyielding Gamin.

  The pair goes quiet as they watch those they saved from certain death. The rescued stare in shock at the sight of their shattered world. Many become obviously subdued and quietly talk amongst themselves, then watch impassively as the ramp closes a few moments later.

  Lilpax returns to the bridge, and says, “I think it worked, but only time will tell.”

  “Good,” Voknor replies, then asks, “now would you be so kind as to find a suitable world where we can drop them off?”

  Skylow chuckles, he and Frazik have already started searchin
g, and transmits their findings to Lilpax’s console.

  She reviews the information sent, then continues the search; their information saves her a lot of time and effort.

  None of those rescued complain about their living conditions anymore, instead many profess their thanks when meals arrive. They begin to adapt, and do the best they can with what they have. They quickly turn their area into a small settlement. Before long, they are preparing their own meals from the ship’s stores, and begin figuring out ways to filter out the smell of the ship’s air.

  Bralk’s operations take considerable time, due to the difficulties involved with mining the planet’s core, especially when fluctuating gravitational forces threaten at any moment to draw the shattered remnants back together, and crush his craft. His fraying nerves are finally saved when Sharz reports that the flagship’s stockpile has been fully restored.

  Voknor is pleased to finally receive some good news, and relaxes all the more when he notices Lilpax in deep discussion with his bridge officers. He waits patiently as they spend just as long debating who is to report their findings.

  Finally, Lilpax says, “Fine!’ She turns to Voknor, and says, “My Regent. We have a world that may suit those we saved. In addition, we have a suggestion.”

  “Oh!” Voknor replies, his curiosity aroused, “What is it?”

  Lilpax glances back and forth between Voknor and the officers, then hesitantly states, “It would require minimal effort and resources to provide them with a head start.” She hastily justifies, “There are barely enough of them alive to allow for gene pool diversity, thus if too many die in the early days of their resettlement, they will have additional issues to contend with.”

  Voknor frowns, then asks, “What kind of head start?”

  Lilpax feels as though she is overstepping her position as she replies, “Um, accommodations, medical supplies, farming equipment, and…” she lowers he gaze as she mumbles, “basic manufacturing facilities…” her voice trails off with her confidence.

  Voknor closes his eyes and shakes his head as he realizes that he was the one who assigned her a bridge position, and then chose her as his mate. She has clearly become sympathetic to the people they rescued.

  Frazik attempts to fill the uncomfortable silence with his report, “Regent, the fleet reports their readiness to depart. Coordinates to the world in question are entered. We await your orders.”

  Voknor opens his eyes and orders, “Let’s go!”

  Lilpax turns to her console, and waits to be reprimanded.

  Regent Voknor stands, then unexpectedly says, “Perhaps it’s time I met them, and not just address them from a distance.”

  Prytec is not happy with Voknor’s decision, and doubles the guard as they stride toward the temporary settlement.

  “Who speaks for you?” Voknor demands as he approaches the refugees.

  One of them replies, “I am Tarkol. We are all that is left of the Brilkar.”

  “We too lost our home world, many years ago, and yet we survive, as you may, if you will it.” Voknor states.

  Tarkol lowers his gaze as he replies, “We are still uncertain of our fate, but feel that you would not have gone to all this trouble simply to kill us.”

  Voknor nods, then says, “We will transport you to a world, where we will leave you with the necessary tools to rebuild.”

  “That is amazing! We thank you.” Tarkol blurts out.

  “Don’t thank me,” Voknor replies, “thank my mate! She, like many who are preparing for their first egg, is overly protective of all life.”

  “We appreciate all you have done; you have our eternal thanks.” Tarkol adds, sincerely.

  Voknor considers the Oglan who helped him so long ago, then says, “I owe a debt of gratitude to one who is undoubtedly dead. By assisting you, I am balancing his actions.”

  Prytec frowns upon hearing Voknor’s comment, but says nothing. This is the first time he has heard of Regent Voknor owing a debt of gratitude.

  Tarkol is unsure how to respond, so he simply says, “We thank you.”

  Voknor stares at Tarkol, pondering how their planet was destroyed, then his curiosity wins as he asks, “What force shattered your world?”

  Tarkol responds hesitantly, “We were testing a new form of quantum energy. The containment field collapsed, and our fail-safe measure of directing the released energies toward the core had an unfortunate side effect.”

  Voknor tilts his gaze as he states, “Unfortunate is an understatement!” He then presses, “Tell me more about this quantum energy?”

  Tarkol blanches, then says, “Well, needless to say it’s a secret project, and in the wrong hands…” He slows down and stops talking under Voknor’s intense scrutiny.

  Voknor shakes his head and says, “Secret from who? You wiped out your entire civilization!”

  “True, true.” Tarkol stammers, then reluctantly continues, “We manufactured a dark matter singularity.”

  “I suggest you don’t do that on the next world!” Voknor states bluntly.

  Tarkol lowers his gaze, then murmurs, “They had no warning. We killed them all.”

  “Mistakes can do that.” Voknor replies, concern in his voice.

  “Yes indeed.” Tarkol confirms.

  Regent Voknor casts his gaze around the group, then strides away. Prytec follows closely and, although he is curious about Voknor’s debt, remains silent.

  Striding onto the bridge, Voknor orders, “Get the fleet to that planet you found, so we can leave our passengers.” He hesitates, then queries, “Did we copy the computer database from those facilities?”

  Frazik grins as he responds, “Yes, and our engineers are reviewing the data.”

  “Excellent!” Voknor responds.

  Skylow motions to Cushkull as he says, “The fleet is ready!”

  Cushkull taps his console, engaging the main drive, then slides the indicator to the sixth marker.

  Voknor sits and relaxes into his chair, it feels good to be on the move.

  Skylow confers with Cushkull, then says, “The destination is close. I shall inform Prytec to begin preparations.”

  Voknor glances to the side and orders, “Lilpax, go with Skylow, and make sure they have what they require to survive.”

  “Yes, my Regent,” She replies.

  Skylow, Lilpax, and Prytec arrive at the hangar deck, where they are met by Tarkol. Armed guards line the balconies above, and although their weapons are readily available, none are pointed at the compound. Prytec motions to the bridge officers, and when Skylow does not speak, Lilpax realizes she is to.

  Lilpax nervously begins, “My Regent is generously providing you all you need to rebuild.”

  Tarkol replies slowly and deliberately, “We are grateful, and look forward to seeing what that entails.”

  Prytec glances to Skylow as he picks up a slight tone to the alien’s voice. It seems that he disbelieves them. Before anyone else can speak, a team of engineers arrive, each with a substantial cargo supported on gravity plates.

  Tarkol stares as the machinery and equipment flows nonstop into the hangar bay. He lowers his gaze as it is clear that all of this is for his people.

  Prytec steps toward Tarkol, then points to him with a single claw as he bluntly states, “Regent Voknor’s word is good; you and your people would do well to remember that!”

  “We will.” Tarkol stammers. He feels foolish for being so bold, especially to a race that has the very survival of his species in their control.

  Lilpax grins widely, causing Tarkol to nervously step back at the sight of her sharp teeth. She is overjoyed and jumps excitedly at the supplies which are being transferred to the hangar deck.

  Unexpectedly the massive ramp begins to open; the fleet has arrived. Those in the hangar deck watch as a massive planet comes into view. Other ships of the fleet are mere dots in orbit around this behemoth of a world.

  Skylow turns to Tarkol and says, “That has to be one of the largest planets
I have ever seen, and I have seen a lot of planets.”

  Tarkol is unable to grasp the scale of the world, and simply nods in agreement.

  Prytec steps closer to Skylow and quietly asks, “Do you know why the Regent is allowing this bountiful world to be settled by these aliens?”

  Lilpax overhears the comment, walks over and replies, “I picked the planet in the hopes that they will flourish, and one day provide us with an abundance of resources!”

  Skylow is impressed, and says, “Now that’s what I call forward thinking!”

  A group of shuttles lifts off the deck, then flies out the ramp. They descend into a massive cloud bank, where they are lost from sight. A second group, then a third, follow in quick succession.

  Tarkol’s joy turns to apprehension as more shuttles depart, without him or his people. He nervously calls out, “Why aren’t we being transported down?”

  Skylow shakes his head, then motions to Lilpax and says, “They’re your pets, you tell him!”

  “They’re not pets!” She scowls, then turns to Tarkol and replies, “Numerous possible landing sites are being examined more closely before one is selected.”

  “Oh!” Tarkol replies as he steps back, intimidated by Skylow’s demeanor. He nervously glances back and forth between the two Gamin, then makes his way back to his people.

  Lilpax sighs, then turns to face Skylow. She lifts her hand to chastise him when it suddenly dawns on her that he is her superior officer. Lowering her hand and gaze, she turns away instead.

  Skylow strides closer to her and says, “Lilpax, I meant no disrespect to you. I simply don’t understand why we’re wasting our resources on them, and risking ourselves in the process.”

  Lilpax tilts her head as she responds, “I am unsure why as well.” She looks at Skylow and says, “Perhaps our Regent has seen too much killing?”

  “No.” Skylow says as he shakes his head. “There has to be more to it than that.” He feels a chill run up his spine as he shares his thoughts, “Voknor is a radical! We have done little harm to other races, compared to before, and because of that we have multiple planets where we can repair the fleet in relative safety.”