Inhalt
Dedication
Introduction
Prologue
Arrival I
The Mission
Prologue II
Journey Home
Genesis
Prologue III
The Nautilus
Prologue IV
Arrival
Jaydon R. Cox
The Johnson Chronicles
Part 1
Conscription Day
A Science-Fiction Novel
Copyright © 2018 Jaydon R. Cox
Alle rights reserved
Dedication
For my daughter.
Don’t dream your life, live your dreams.
Introduction
Hello, my name is John James Johnson, but my friends call me Jay-Jay because of all the Js in my name. I was born 35 years ago on the planet Tangris. Tangris is part of a small kingdom within the empire and has been ruled for over 300 years by the Amero royal family. The Amero also rule two smaller neighboring systems with one inhabited planet each. In total they therefore rule three planets, with a population of over two billion people in the name of the Imperatrix.
My father, Jim James Johnson, was a decorated soldier in the service of the Imperial Space Navy. I say was because he went missing in action on a secret mission and was declared dead. That was ten years ago. Hope has faded after so long and I am realistic enough to accept that. He is dead. But I have vivid memories of our time together among the imperial troops. I always looked up to him. He wasn’t home often during my childhood and adolescence, but he was a great father when he was home. At least that’s what I believe. It’s hard for me to remember my childhood. I can recall a lot of events and feelings from those days, of course, as vividly as if they had happened yesterday. But other things that I should be able to recall just aren’t there. For example, I can hardly remember my schoolmates, or even who my teachers were. Fragments of memory sometimes come back to me, and I see images in my mind, but I often have trouble working out when exactly they come from.
I do remember my mother quite clearly though. She is still alive and I see her now and again. But I think I’m home even less often than my father was. My mother doesn’t seem to mind, she never did, and she was very happy during all the years of her marriage. I can’t remember her ever having argued with my father, or ever being upset or sad. I just wonder what my memories of this time are worth now?
She has always been a lively person, a person who thought it was important to be virtuous. I grew up in a home where everyone was respectful and polite to each other. Honesty, cleanliness, punctuality, dedication, and dependability were our watchwords, and we lived by them.
My father’s love of the empire, his inexhaustible belief in the system and his unshakable loyalty meant there was only one career I wanted to follow. My father was also in no doubt; he would never have thought I would have wanted anything other than to serve the empire. Not that this was the case, no way, but that was how my dad used to be. If he believed in something, if he had made up his mind, then there was no other way. Not even for the rest of the universe. So I went to the imperials and I have never regretted that decision. And do you know why? Because I’m just like my father. That’s what people say, anyway, and it makes me proud.
I used to have an older brother, Jesse James Johnson. Jesse too, of course, joined the imperials, the Imperial Space navy to be exact. He is dead, too, that’s for sure. He was ambushed by the Seisossa. His ship was completely destroyed. There were no survivors. It is well known that the enemy do not take prisoners, and those captives they do take … the whole empire knows what happens to them in the end. That’s why everyone does their best not to be captured. That’s what must have happened to my brother, because when the wreck was found and searched, it was discovered that the explosion that destroyed it was set off from inside.
I was never particularly close to my brother. He was my brother and we grew up together, and did a lot of things together. The things brothers do together. But he was a completely different person to me. Jesse had always wanted to be in the space navy. It was his dream to travel space at the helm of his own command. All he ever wanted was a career. At least he achieved that before he died.
That’s not the way I am. I’m not so interested in a career, which is obvious from my rank. Quite the contrary, I have refused two promotions in order to stay with my troops. I don’t want a job pushing paper. I was never interested in the navy, either, which is why I chose the infantry and went to the I.S.T.A. (Imperial Special Troops Academy) on Phoenix. Phoenix is a mobile military base that is constantly changing location. People used to value military training. But that was before the war. My talents were soon recognized during my training. I had the ability to do the right thing at the right time. Without hesitation. I often took command if I thought the officer giving orders was making a mistake. Not that I have ever disobeyed an order, but I don’t blindly follow them either. It is about making my superior do what I think the right thing is. That’s why I command battle troops. Now, everyone listens to my commands.
You see, just like I said, I didn’t have a particularly close relationship with my brother, but I still miss him a lot. I was always open to his suggestions. Nobody can lift my mood the way he could.
His death was much worse for my mother. I always notice that his name is never spoken at home. Whenever his name does come up, the subject quickly gets changed. There’s nothing I can do about that. My mother has a very strong personality. Things are very different with my father. For her, my father is still alive. She always says, “Nobody can kill Jim James Johnson.” She thinks his death has been faked, so he can go on secret missions. That’s ridiculous, of course, but that’s how she is, and it is better to live in hope than give up on it.
You must be wondering why I’m telling you all this. I want to make sure you see me as upstanding, loyal, and honest, not just some crazy person.
Because the story I’m going to tell you is so unbelievable that you could easily get the wrong idea.
But I swear to you that every word is true. Everything happened exactly this way.
Prologue
It was the beginning of time: dark, cold, and empty. Nothing but the endless expanse of nothing. Nothing? That isn’t quite correct, because there was something. Something impossible to describe. Something that simply existed. And this something was alone, all alone in the endless expanse of nothingness.
That is how it had always been, for as long as IT could remember. IT didn’t know how long it had existed. IT had no concept of time, IT knew only itself and its thoughts.
IT drifted eternally, always searching, searching for something else like IT. Searching for … anything.
IT knew IT couldn’t be alone. Others had to exist that were like IT.
That was what IT strove for, what drove IT, carrying IT ever further through nothingness. What IT hoped to find, IT couldn’t say, couldn’t even guess. But it was precisely this that drove IT on. And the further IT traveled, at speeds far beyond the speed of light, into the dark and the cold, the stronger the feeling became that IT was nearing its goal. IT felt that it was coming to the end of its fruitless search.
Like a small child, full of curiosity and anticipation, IT knew that the goal wasn’t far away. This knowledge gave IT new strength. IT doubled its already incredible speed, moving faster toward this unknown something. IT was driven with impatience and curiosity. For the first time in its existence, IT felt something of what time could be.
And suddenly, without any warning, the journey came to an end.
A giant wall of fire lay in front of IT, spr
eading many light years in all directions.
The being had no idea what it was. IT immediately tried to make contact with the wall of fire. But the wall of fire remained silent; no matter how IT spread its thoughts toward it, there was no answer.
So the being moved to orbit the firewall, to investigate what might lie behind it. IT tried continually with every means at its disposal to make contact. Without success.
IT moved ever further, changing direction again and again. But nothing happened.
At some point, IT realized the firewall must actually be a ball of fire, and that IT had certainly orbited it many times, always with the same result: nothing. IT then became furious. IT had never been furious before. IT did not like the feeling. But there was nothing IT could do about it, in fact the more IT tried to suppress the feeling, the more furious IT became.
In its boundless fury, IT transmitted a single thought in the direction of the fireball. IT put all its anger, all its fury and hatred into this thought, “Destroy!” This simple thought was followed almost immediately by a silent explosion. The fireball burst and came apart in innumerable pieces. It had been absolutely atomized, and was now spreading through the nothingness.
IT felt extremely relieved. IT even felt joy at seeing its work and watched the show in deep contentment.
IT looked at itself now, concentrating on the feeling of inner peace and contentment, and IT noticed something shocking: something was missing. IT could not explain this. IT only knew that a part of itself was gone. But because it was such a tiny and unimportant part, IT soon forgot about it. IT continued to enjoy its feeling of being content with itself, and IT rejoiced in what IT had done.
IT had done something for the first time in its existence, something that could be seen. Its action had caused a reaction. This was new, and it simply felt good.
Arrival I
System: Sol
Location: Earth
Time: Now
I looked to my right, through a transparent window in the shuttle’s passenger compartment, and saw that we were already starting to come in for a landing.
I eagerly tried to make out details. Unfortunately the shuttle was still too high and I could only recognize vague outlines of the surroundings. The speed of the shuttle made it even more difficult to see, and it wouldn’t slow down much until we were landing.
It was one of the most comfortable flights I had ever had, even if it had only taken a few minutes. The shuttle was an unarmed VIP transport, and made a welcome change from the combat craft I usually raced toward planetary surfaces in. It was a shame that I didn’t have enough time to check out all the luxuries on offer aboard. There was a bar, a lounge, and a spacious bathroom. But at least I enjoyed the flight, sitting in a very comfortable chair. The chair seemed to be constantly adjusting to the position of my body.
Few combat craft or transports had anywhere to sit. Only the pilot and copilot had a place to sit. Obviously, it would be difficult to fly standing up, and usually a flight wasn’t usually such smooth flying.
Combat craft often had to land under heavy fire and so the pilots were busy with evasive maneuvering. For us soldiers this meant we were thrown around a lot. Some were already injured before touch down. Without even having seen the enemy. But these young people could count themselves lucky because many didn’t reach the surface at all. The number of craft shot down was always terribly high. Because of the damn orbital defense systems the Seisossa used! But the chance of surviving the landing was always higher than trying to abort and fly away.
There I was, sitting in the luxury compartment, unable to think about anything other than my last landing a few months ago, on Targeos, about all the young people, all the young, innocent faces. A large number of my landing troops were new recruits, barely trained newbies, fresh from the academy. Basic training had been reduced from three months to one, just a couple of months ago. This was the third time that basic training had been shortened. During peacetime it had been 12 months, standard time. And that was excluding special training and extra courses.
Now they sent me these newbies who had no idea how to even use their standard-issue equipment. They were sent off to war after just a month of training, left to their fate. To be more precise, their fate was put in the hands of their officers, like me. I had no idea where to even start with them. But we couldn’t get anyone else.
I remembered images, images of the fearful faces of the recruits. I suddenly experienced the smell, the disgusting mix of fear, sweat, adrenaline, urine, and shit, and a shudder went through my body. Not every recruit could hold their bowels. I could hear the laughter of the old hands, their jokes about fresh meat, as the new soldiers from the academy were often called. This time, nobody was laughing, nobody was cracking any stupid jokes. Hell knew no mercy. It gathered its sacrificial victims, and swallowed them whole. I was the only one it kept spitting out. I had fought so many battles, so much suffering, pain, and horror. More than a person could endure. Maybe my memories were too horrifying, even for hell. I had the feeling that the devil was afraid of me, and he was right to be.
Ever more memories of my last mission returned to my mind.
The Mission
Approximately 10 Months Ago
Year: 1023
System: Targeos
Location: a space station somewhere in the system
I gave my usual speech before we departed. Its intent was simple, to make them fear me, to instill the fear deep within their guts. But they should also feel awe. I didn’t care if they thought I was a damn god, because that would make them obey me, and that would only improve their chances of survival. They should be more afraid of me than they were of the enemy. Thirty new recruits were standing in front of me in six rows of five. The nearest row was just three steps away.
“Recruits, I am Captain John James Johnson,” I screamed at them. I kept my face expressionless and tried to drill through the recruits with my eyes. “I have over five hundred landings under my belt. I have been shot at more times than I can remember. I have had my belly sliced open, my bones broken, my flesh burnt, and bits of me have been blown off by grenades. But they have not been able to kill me. And do you know why I am still alive, gentlemen?” The recruits stared at me in disbelief, standing stiffly to attention. “I can’t hear you, gentlemen. Your commanding officer asked you a question, but maybe I wasn’t clear, or maybe you didn’t hear me? So, again. Can any of you tell me why I am still alive?”
Then from thirty throats came an answer, “No, sir!”
“Let me tell you my secret. It’s very simple, I promised my mother. I gave her my word of honor that I wouldn’t be killed in this war.” This was met with some smiles. One recruit couldn’t hold back his laughter. It wasn’t real laughter, more like chuckling that immediately fell silent again. One kept laughing. “You!” I pointed at the clown. “Step forward, asshole!”
A deathly silence descended and the poor devil took a step forward. He hesitantly saluted. “Recruit Mavel McLaster, I’m sorry.” After a short pause of two heart beats at most, he added, “Sir.”
“Wrong, asshole!” I started counting on my fingers. “First, in my unit you don’t have a name. That goes for the rest of you, too. From now on, all you have is a number. And do you know why? Because I don’t give a shit what your name is. The chances are you won’t survive the coming day. So it doesn’t make any sense for me to memorize your names.” I pointed to the young men on my extreme left. “You. Count off, starting with one.” They began to count. They all stopped at sixteen. The idiot who was standing right in front of me hadn’t noticed that the counting had stopped, and that it was his turn. “Okay, asshole, you’re seventeen.” My face was as hard as stone, my gaze burned into number seventeen. “Drop! Give me a hundred push ups on four fingers.” Then I looked at the next recruit. I usually had to tell them to continue, but the recruit seemed to have a little more brains than us
ual, and he continued the count. Number seventeen was already at my feet, doing his push ups. He was gasping out the number of push ups as he went.
I pointed my index finger, “Second, I’ll make you a deal. Anyone who is still alive tomorrow can tell me their name and I’ll use it. And third,” I’d reached the middle finger in my count, “third, I will now tell you, before this clown down here,” I pointed at number seventeen, “interrupts again, more about why I’m still alive. I have survived because I have done exactly what my mother told me, when I gave her my promise. She told me always to do exactly what my superior told me to do. Don’t answer back, don’t ask questions, and follow all orders immediately and to the letter. Don’t act without orders and, God willing, you will survive the war. Now go away and make me proud.”
“I’ll tell you another thing, if you want. My mother is damn proud of me.” Number seventeen collapsed at his thirty-sixth push up. His thumbs and index fingers were red. He’d managed more than I had expected. “Okay, gentlemen, do you understand what my mother told me?”
All 29 yelled out, “Yes, sir!” and one gasped it.
“Okay, if you can’t mange to follow orders, or if I think you are a danger to the rest of the squad, then you won’t have to wait for the enemy to shoot you, I’ll do it. I swear to you that I will put a bullet in your damn skull, stick what’s left of you in a body bag and send it home marked Loser. Do you understand me, gentlemen?”
The following “Yes, sir,” came from thirty throats.
“Very good. Go to provisioning in hangar 65 and get your equipment. We start at 0800, report half an hour in advance. Dismissed, and take this idiot with you.” I gently nodded down at number seventeen and left the group, who all remained rooted to the spot for a minute, before at last one of them, and then the rest, went toward the hangar.
Conscription Day Page 1
