The Emperor Of The 7 Galaxies

by Dave Gordon

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  The Emperor Of The 7 Galaxies

  by Dave Gordon

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  Science Fiction/Fantasy

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  Mystic Moon Press

  www.mysticmoonpress.com

  Copyright ©

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Emperor of the Seven Galaxies

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  About the Author

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  The Emperor Of The 7 Galaxies

  By: Dave Gordon

  ISBN—978-0-9801777-8-7

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © Feb. 2008, Dave Gordon

  Cover Art Copyright © Feb. 2008, Magickal Media

  Mystic Moon Press, LLC

  Santa Fe, NM 87507

  www.mysticmoonpress.com

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Mystic Moon Press, LLC

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  Dedication

  To my wife and children with thanks for their continuing patience

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Emperor of the Seven Galaxies

  Chapter 1

  I awoke to the duty bell with a dream of Earth still fresh in my mind. I tried to hold on to the vision of lush green forests but the dull ceiling of my berth pushed its way into my consciousness. The memory of last night's revelries intruded upon the soft dream of birds and water. Ensign Howard had been too generous in offering up a bottle of Verdean Scurm, and we had been too gracious in accepting. I had no excuse to lie there any longer, as hangovers are almost non-existent after drinking Scurm. I threw back the rough wool blanket that covered my bunk. The coarse fabric made an audible rasp as it folded back on itself. I could never figure out why the standard bedding issued to crewmen was a wool blanket. Surely something more modern and comfortable could have been synthesized. They chose instead to stick with the traditional wool. The insignia “EFI” was imprinted on the blanket. EFI stood for Earth Fleet Issue. Everything in my cabin had EFI emblazoned upon it. Everything in the entire ship, and the very ship itself, were all Earth Fleet Issue.

  My cabin was smallish but not cramped. There was a small brass plate above my door stamped with my name, Avron Tular. My rank of Shipman Second Class did not qualify me for a cabin with a view port so my view was somewhat dull. That was just something you got used to aboard ship. The only place where the lower ranks got a view of open space was on the recreation deck where there were many ports. Looking out at the emptiness of space did little to relieve the anxiety of being crammed into a large can with three-hundred other people. Looking out at the deep, black void punctuated by pin pricks of light was not uplifting at all. The hours spent off-duty could sometimes drag by. There were all sorts of diversion but after a couple of years they all seemed stale. So, the highlight of the day was going to work. That was not a good thing if your job was as meaningless as mine was. There are few things as useless as a human navigator. The situation had been slowly improving, however. I had recently been assigned to the bridge. It took a very long time to convince the sensing crew to try out my whiz-bang idea for a navigational improvement. It had actually worked. I was as surprised as anybody, but I tried not to show it. That little jewel got me assigned to the bridge.

  I hoped that in a few years I could get an assignment on a Carrier class ship. Almost everyone had a cabin with a view port and the accommodations were first class. Carriers were city-sized crafts built for long-duration cruises. They were built for comfort as it was assumed the ship would be on missions that lasted years. They had instead seen fit to send the Triton on this extended mission. The Triton was a Frigate class ship assigned to explore the Andromeda galaxy. It was unsuited for long voyages. Frigates usually protected shipping lanes or ports. Agility counted for more than comfort. Frigates were intended for missions lasting no more than a year. We had already been out more than two years. The explanation as to why the Triton was chosen for this mission was not shared with the crew. This ship was the first mission by Earth Fleet to another galaxy. That in itself was an exciting prospect. History was about to be made. Sometimes it was hard to maintain the excitement about making history. It seemed to require an awful lot of drudgery.

  The Triton was a newer craft with a form that differed from older Frigates. Older ships looked more streamlined. The Triton was much more rounded. The older ships looked cooler, sleeker. The new design maximized shield coverage, and the hull was actually stronger. The Triton looked like a flattened egg with antenna and lasers at both ends. The star drive technology that the Urians were kind enough to sell to Earth would run until we all died of old age. The ship seemed to vibrate with a constant thrum even though the engines were supposed to be absolutely silent.

  My bunk was four feet above the floor in order to maximize storage. I hopped off and landed with a heavy thud. I tensed expecting a headache but none came. It amazed me that the acrid, yellowish, foul-tasting Scurm could be consumed by the quart and not produce a hangover. I plucked my uniform off the back of the chair sitting in front of my communications panel. Getting dressed was a short affair since both the under clothes and the uniform were gray bodysuits. Opening the door of my cabin took some effort because of the pressure seal. My cabin was sealed in case the ship lost pressure. The air pressure in the crew cabins was slightly higher than that of the passageways. The pressure difference was supposed to keep any contamination that infected the ship out of the cabins. A disaster of that magnitude would probably destroy the ship so the measure seemed futile. It was perhaps for reassurance meant to promote restful sleep, which I rarely got. I grabbed the door handle with both hands and leaned back. A slight hissing preceded a soft whoosh as the door came free. I stepped over the raised threshold and hurried through the passageway.

  The designers of the ship had been preoccupied with structural features rather than style. The interior of the ship was uniformly predictable. Bulkhead, access panel, crew quarters; bulkhead, access panel, crew quarters. The pattern repeated over and over, only Engineering and Resource Recovery were different. Those two sections had stylish accents. The opulence of the officer's decks stood out in even greater contrast. They were quite nice. Down in the middle of the ship it was a monotonous repetition of doors and drab colors. Why they chose gray as the dominate color still escapes me. Was blue too expensive?

  I wondered why it was necessary for everything to be so mundane. Did they believe the men and women of the lower ranks to be so accustomed to a life
devoid of beauty that the color red might lead to anarchy? Perhaps they believed that we simply did not require it. Whatever the reason, the stupefying monotony of our gray world rankled. I resented and loathed it rather than feeling comforted by it.

  I entered a lift that took me to the centerline of the ship. Another lift leading to the bridge moved through the middle of the ship. That was another difference between this ship and older versions. The bridge was in the center of the ship instead of near the surface. Emergency command and control was more protected in the center of the ship. I strode quickly to the bridge even though I was early. I hoped that showing enthusiasm would earn respect. It was certainly better than being late.

  I was a little disappointed the first time I entered the bridge of the ship. I was hoping for a sleek and gleaming tribute to the grand technology the ship represented. What I saw instead was a scene more representative of old Earth military ocean vessels. It was a square room with blockish control panels set against gray walls. The ceiling was a monotonous expanse of lumination panels that stood just seven feet above a dark gray carbon fiber floor. The captain's seat sat on a short platform in the middle of the room. It faced the Communications and Environmental stations. A small display screen hung on the wall facing the captain's seat. It could display the forward heading, starboard, port, and aft. The navigation station sat against the rear wall and consisted of nothing more than several display panels with a standard control module. Entire weeks passed with nothing of significance occurring on the bridge.

  I could tell something was awry as I entered the bridge. There were not any obvious clues, but the room was tense. I had the advantage of being able to sense those types of situations. My grandmother on my mother's side was Addian. The most intensely telepathic people in the galaxy populate Addia. My grandfather was born on Moon Base Three, and had enjoyed an 80-year marriage. I wondered what being married to a woman who knew his every thought must have been like. He and my grandmother communicated almost entirely on a psychic level and didn't talk aloud much. They had made quite an effort to raise my mother as an Earth child, but they could not change who they were. My mother was quite telepathic. Telepaths were universally regarded with suspicion. Nobody is comfortable believing that the creature sitting next to them knows their every thought, which they did. My family emigrated to Earth to escape the constant attention. I was born a lesser telepath, however it was still enough to visualize the swirling emotions that flew about the bridge.

  I walked to the navigation console as if nothing was amiss. Mayward, the Navigation Technician who had the shift before mine finished filling out the navigation log as I approached. I discerned that Commander Alworth's relationship with the beautiful Boriallen, Lieutenant Zhia!tu, may had come to an abrupt end. The Commander sat in the Captain's chair staring straight ahead. The Lieutenant stared at her Communications console as if it required every bit of her concentration. These things happen on long tours such as ours. People get together, break up, maybe get back together. It is a very small ship and a very large universe. People have to do something to pass the time.

  I believed the Commander could possibly had lost his mind for ending his relationship with Lieutenant Zhia!tu. Lieutenant Zhia!tu was the most beautiful creature in the galaxy. Exotic did not begin to describe her. Her eyes changed color depending on her mood. Light purple when calm. Fiery red when angry or excited. She was slight of build but immensely strong. She was the reigning champion of the on-going Tuburk Fiest tournament aboard ship. She had never been defeated during our entire cruise, and asked to stop competing in order to give the other players a chance. I had seen her compete a couple of times. Her feats of agility and strength were a wonder to behold. You would not have believed it unless you had seen it as I had. Imagine seeing her slender figure outlined in the arena lights as she balanced on one hand. Leaping ten feet into the air sending three opponents wheeling out of the ring. Allowing much larger players to tackle her only to brush them aside as one would an empty uniform. Her skin was like burnished bronze, dark and lustrous, lying smoothly across her exquisite features. Her hair shimmered as though made of polished brass. It grew faster than she could keep it cut, becoming a riot of curls hanging to her shoulders in six weeks. Her face was slightly elongated having a long but delicate nose. Her eyes were large in proportion to her face, their almond shape adding to her exotic appearance. She was the image of an ancient Egyptian lion goddess that had leapt from the walls of the pyramids only to somehow land among the base and mundane crew of the Triton. It was impossible to guess at her age. She could have been a youth or she could have been 200 years old. Someday I hoped to learn how to pronounce her name so I might speak to her. As it stood, the Lieutenant and I had never had occasion to speak to each other. She worked the shift before mine and she was an officer while I was not.

  Mayward finished the Navigation log. It read like a line from Peter Pan: second star on the right, straight on until morning. That is the problem with being a navigator in deep space, not much happens. We had not changed course for two months and were not likely to change again for another two months. Before that, we had traversed the distance between the Milky Way and the Andromeda system without a single course change for 19 months. Navigation is crucial, of course, but it is boring as hell.

  Mayward departed with a wave. We had been at this for over two years. Everything that needed to be said already had been. Lieutenant Commander Abbers, the commanding officer of my shift, walked up to Commander Alworth. She saluted to signify she was relieving him. I almost expected to see Saint Elmo's fire leap between Commander Alworth and Lieutenant Zhia!tu as he passed behind her. The tension was so thick he had to push through it to get by. Ensign BacTang fluttered through the door. She was from the planet FanterBeDan-Something-Something. I could not remember the name of the planet, it being about twelve syllables long. The inhabitants were small and humanoid, with behavior tremulous most of the time. When it was time for them to get down to business, it was as if their blood turned to ice water. Ensign BacTang was absolutely brilliant and good in a pinch, but a bit annoying the rest of the time. When the diminutive Ensign BacTang relieved Lieutenant Zhia!tu, she was waved off. Lieutenant Zhia!tu said she had started a diagnostic and would work a double shift. Lieutenant Commander Abbers cocked an eyebrow at the Lieutenant. It was not within the Lieutenant's purview to dictate her work shifts. Lieutenant Commander Abbers, being the astute observer she was, immediately perceived the situation. She said, “The Lieutenant is granted permission to conduct the diagnostic and work the double shift.”

  Lieutenant Zhia!tu stood and faced the Lieutenant Commander. She saluted smartly with an air that was at once apologetic, respectful, and strong. She acknowledged her misstep with no admission of wrongdoing. I watched in amazement as the drama came to a quiet end. I went about my business performing the numerous calculations and measurements to ensure we were still going straight. We would continue to go straight for a very long time even if we cut the engines and drifted. My part in the voyage seemed somewhat trifling.

  The Triton had every conceivable sensor so there was really no reason that bridge personnel could not roam around a bit. People took opportunities to walk off stiffness or just to relieve boredom. The stunning Lieutenant Zhia!tu decided to walk over and talk with me. I began to shiver as she turned and regarded me openly. She was unique among the crew in that her manner of thought was extremely focused. Her single-minded thoughts were pointed and direct. She had nothing else on her mind at all except me. I began to feel light headed as she walked my way. My pulse accelerated. I knew she could discern all these things, even from a distance, as her vision extended from the infra-red to the ultra-violet. I also knew that I would be revealed as a yammering idiot if I opened my mouth.

  She approached me from an oblique angle as a huntress might approach her prey. Her eyes were flashing wells of gold with rivulets of flame. I had seen her toss people like rag dolls when eyes were red. To say I was nervous
would have been a gross understatement. She walked up to me and crouched as if she were sitting in a chair. She sat there somehow suspended in empty space at perfect ease. She said, “I have read your file, you are of Addian descent.”

  The statement surprised me. She read my file? “I am. My grandmother was from Addia.”

  “Then perhaps you can enlighten me as to the events of the recent past concerning the Commander and myself,” she said.

  That was a tough one. I did not want to disappoint her but I had not caught much of actual information. I guessed a great deal, though.

  “When I entered the room I felt a great deal of tension,” I said while I stared at my console. “After that, I discovered the source of the tension to be you and the Commander. Both of you seemed intent on not acknowledging the other.”

  I sensed that she was at a loss as to the cause of the recent breakup. I searched the ship for the Commander. He was feeling sad but relieved. The Lieutenant was evidently too much for him. He felt threatened. He wanted a woman that he could care for, not one that could kick his ass.

  “You are a woman of extraordinary qualities,” I began. “There are none, male or female, that are your equal. Your immense beauty, strength, and intelligence are only to be dreamt of by others. It is my belief the Commander found he could not compete with you and so has decided to seek another of lesser worth.”

  The Lieutenant looked at me flatly for several seconds. “Yes,” she said. “That could likely be the case. Thank you Shipman Tular, you have eased my pain. I will not forget it.”

  She rose and walked back to her station. There was nothing outwardly provocative about her. Still, it was transfixing to watch her move with such confidence and grace. She could render everybody on the bridge unconscious if the situation required it. If someone were lucky enough to get a shot off at her, she could have dodged it. Can you imagine someone so fast they can dodge a laser?