The Imperative Chronicles, Books One and Two: The Mars Imperative & The Tesserene Imperative

by Mark Terence Chapman

  “It appears we’re still alive, but you still haven’t answered some of our questions,” Cap reminded Drelx. “Like, why we’re the only ones using the portal network, and why some portals are found on empty moons.”

  “Ah yes. As I said earlier, many civilizations have risen and fallen, species die out and others are born. Right now, the galaxy is in a period of contraction of species. There are many fewer star-faring races now than there were millions of years ago. Yet this is all part of a cycle that runs for hundreds of millions of years at a time. Fifty million years from now, there probably will be many times more races exploring space than there are now. I am aware of only four thousand or so, and few have expanded to even a thousand star systems. This may sound like a lot, but given the magnitude of the cosmos, that is but the tiniest corner of the galaxy. Consequently, there are relatively few species that use the network at this time, and they are not particularly active in this part of the galaxy, or in yours. You will undoubtedly encounter many of them once you begin exploring the network in earnest.

  “As for the portals on uninhabited moons, I cannot answer that. I have seen no records that explain why certain portals were put in specific locations. You conjectured that the dome, and thus the portal, was put on P5M2 for mining operations, and that theory is as good as any. If so, it was long ago, since no one had used that portal in several million years, according to the computer.”

  “Why the whole Wizard of Oz fantasy when we arrived?” Tom chipped in.

  “Ah, yes. When I detected that you were heading for this planet, I rushed here from Gleptemma, where I was currently working, because I wanted to meet you. But I did not want you to be shocked or disappointed by the devastation here, and possibly retreat before we had a chance to speak. So I searched for a suitable environment to simulate—one that would remind you of home. I recognized the dialog that Sparks kept paraphrasing and used the scene from that delightful creation to provide the landscape for your arrival.”

  Cap glanced at Sparks with a sour expression and shook his head.

  Drelx continued. “I had hoped it would put you at ease. Obviously, I was mistaken. I apologize for being difficult at the gate. I was enjoying my role. It is not often that I am able to perform for an audience.”

  “Apology accepted,” Tom allowed. “We might have bought the ruse without Emerald City in the distance and the yellow brick road. That’s what made us suspicious right off the bat. Just plain old trees and grass might have been more convincing.”

  “Yes, I see now that subtlety would have been preferable,” conceded the diminutive alien.

  “Drelx, earlier you said that any creature with access to the computer running the portals could tap into the knowledge of all the other species,” I said. “Is that true for us too, or do we have to go through three centuries of training first?”

  “You have already demonstrated the capacity to use the computer. Its resources are at your disposal. You have only to frame the appropriate questions. I am afraid the computer does not do well with vague queries along the lines of ‘What is the meaning of life?’”

  I thought for a moment in thought. “Could we learn how to make more efficient use of tesserene, as your people and other races do?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can you tell us?”

  “I am afraid I am not permitted to do that. You must learn these things on your own, and you will. That is part of the maturation process.”

  “Not permitted?” Guido’s question contained more than a hint of suspicion. “Not permitted by whom?”

  “My people have a code of conduct. Giving advanced technology to races that are not yet ready for it has proved in the past to be disastrous. As a result, we now are obligated to stand back and let the fledging races discover the workings of the portal computer for themselves.

  “Oh,” Guido replied, sounding a bit embarrassed.

  “So, where do we go from here?” Tom asked.

  “That, my young friend,” the young-old elf exclaimed, “is entirely up to you. You have the knowledge of the ages at your fingertips, and the ability to explore much of the galaxy on a whim. Use this ability wisely and your race will prosper. Use it improperly and one of the other sentient species may take exception. If you travel the portals you will encounter other races eventually. There is no galactic police force to protect you, and many aggressive species. Once you set foot outside your own star system, you are on your own.”

  With those words, the galaxy seemed a far larger and scarier place than it had only moments ago.

  We expressed our gratitude and bid Drelx goodbye. He invited us to stay for a meal, so he could show off some of the culinary wonders of the galaxy. But our heads were spinning too much to think about food. We politely begged off with a promise to return another time.

  On the way back to the portal, the desolate gray ruin of the Progenitors’ home world was a grim reminder of what could happen to a planet, or even a species, when one race “took exception” to another’s actions.

  * * * *

  We returned to Shamu in silence, except when it was necessary to communicate with the portal computer. We had a lot to think about and no one was in the mood to talk. It had been a long and eventful day and we all looked forward to some sack time in the crowded, but oh-so-familiar, confines of our home away from home. A man can deal with only so much strangeness in a day before it begins to become overwhelming, and we were way over our quota of whelm for the day.

  CHAPTER 18

  The next morning, over breakfast, we discussed our options.

  “I gave our situation a lot of thought last night. I know the rest of you did, too,” Tom began. “The way I see it, we have two choices: One, we head straight home. Not only are we returning with a fortune in tesserene and mineral rights, but we also have proof of sentient extraterrestrial life. And we made first contact. And we’re bringing access to the galaxy’s most sophisticated computer and to a portal network that will forever change how humans travel, and it may relieve Earth of the burden of having to sustain all of the human population. Whew! We’ll be so damn famous we’ll never get a moment’s peace from the newsies. Hell, we might even have a book or two written about us. On the other hand, by the time the Company and all the governments on Earth finish squabbling over who ‘owns the rights’ to the portals it may be years before anyone is allowed back here. We may never have the chance to return.

  “Or, two, we continue exploring before we go home. Who knows what amazing things we might find out here beyond those we’ve already experienced? But there’s also a chance we could run into the wrong crowd and get zapped by an alien death ray.” We all grinned as Guido squirmed in his seat at what had become a running gag at his expense. “We’d be running the risk not only of losing our own lives and fortunes, but of denying Earth access to the portal network. It’s taking a big chance.”

  “I don’t think it’s quite as risky as that, Tom,” Sparks said. “True, we wouldn’t be able to deliver the message to Earth in person if we all get zapped. But we can always set up another beacon for the Company’s search-and-rescue mission to find. Our families will be taken care of if the SAR crew finds Shamu. In addition, we can send Earth a detailed radio message before we leave, including the video footage of the portals and Drelx that our helmet cams captured on the suits’ data crystals—just in case the SAR somehow misses finding Shamu. At worst, it’ll take seventy years for the message to reach Earth, but it’ll get there. Earth wouldn’t be deprived of the galaxy. It would just have to wait a bit longer.”

  “That’s a good point,” Cap said. “If we take option two, we’re really only risking our lives. Earth, the Company, and our loved ones won’t be deprived of the benefits of our mission, just the pleasure of our company. Does anyone else have any arguments in favor of option one or option two?” We all shook our heads, no.

  “Well then, here we are with another choice. So let’s vote. Who’s in favor of returning home i
mmediately?” No one so much as twitched. “Very well. Onward and upward, gentlemen. Let’s go see the universe.”

  * * * *

  As before, we set out with food, water and survival gear, just in case. When we reached Grand Central Terminal we stopped. Again, we opened our faceplates to save oxygen.

  I surveyed our surroundings, noting that the unbroken circular wall appeared unchanged since our last visit.

  “So,” Guido asked, “where do we go from here? I don’t think we want to just pick portals at random. How do we choose?”

  “Hmm. Good question,” Cap replied. “We probably should have discussed it over breakfast. Suggestions?”

  “We could look for more sources of tesserene,” offered Tom, a geologist to the end.

  “True,” Cap responded. “But we already have more tesserene than we know what to do with, and we wouldn’t necessarily be able to get to the other sources right away, depending on where they’re located. They might be hundreds or thousands of light years from Earth. And, remember, we’re extremely low on thruster fuel.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Tom nodded. “So where do we go, then?”

  “How about some of the Progenitors’ other planets, ones that haven’t been decimated?” Guido suggested.

  Sparks countered, “I’m not sure we’d ready to run into any other people who might happen to inhabit those planets.”

  “I agree,” Cap said. “After our talk with Drelx yesterday, I’m a bit leery about meeting any other races until we learn more about them. Right now, we don’t know who’s friendly and who isn’t.”

  “Why don’t we ask the computer for help?” I suggested. “Computer, show us all the former Progenitor planets that are uninhabited by sentients.” The route map appeared overhead, with several hundred junctions lit up. “Now, of those show us only the ones that have an atmosphere breathable by humans and a sustainable ecology.” Only five lights remained. “No sense visiting planets that were blasted down to the bedrock, as Stripi was,” I explained. “Computer, of these worlds, show us only those with known Progenitor artifacts.” One of the lights winked out.

  “That narrows the choices considerably,” Sparks declared. “Four’s not too many to visit. On the other hand, a planet’s a big place. We probably can’t explore them to any great degree. Where do we start?”

  “Hmm,” Guido said. “It’s too bad the computer can’t tell us.”

  “How do we know it can’t?” I responded. “Remember, Drelx said it’s all a matter of how we frame the questions. Computer, can you speak?”

  “Yes.” The deep voice, although not especially loud, reverberated in the air.

  “Jeez, why didn’t we think of that before?” Sparks asked.

  “Computer, is there anything of special scientific or cultural interest on any of those four planets?”

  “Indeed. Narvana contains the intact remains of twenty-three major cities that are available for anthropological and archaeological study. They have been the subjects of intense research by educational institutions from all over the galaxy.”

  “Too picked-over and too big for our needs. Are there other planets of interest—maybe something less…scientifically popular?”

  “Celentis is famed for the architecture of its sky cities.”

  “Sky cities?” Sparks asked. “What are they?”

  “Seven cities floating over the major northern continent were designed to drift with the atmospheric currents.”

  “That sounds intriguing. Computer, are there any other notable items of interest on other planets that we should consider?”

  “Farklon is said to possess musical caves of great beauty in one of the island chains along the equator.”

  “Is anyone interested in musical caves?” I asked the rest of the crew. Shrugs and headshakes were all I got in return. “So what are you guys interested in?”

  “Are there any señoritas out here?” Tom asked. He wore a mock leer, while twirling an imaginary mustache.

  “What, and start an interstellar incident?” Sparks was being Sparks. “We’d have some three-meter tall alien farmer chasing us with his laser shotgun because you knocked up his blue, two-headed daughter.”

  “Besides women,” I amended my previous question.

  “I wouldn’t mind being beside a woman, myself,” Tom replied.

  “Gentlemen,” Cap interrupted. “I know we’ve been out in space a long time, but can we get serious? The longer we stand here joking, the longer it’ll take us to get anywhere.” His attempt at being the voice of reason had the desired effect.

  “Who’s joking?” was Tom’s final, muttered, half-hearted attempt at levity.

  “Seriously,” I began, trying to steer the conversation back to the subject at hand, “what should we be looking for? There’s no sense searching for treasure. Anything of the Progenitors has been picked over for a billion years. Are we going sightseeing for art, music, beautiful landscapes and architecture, or are we looking for something in particular? Frankly, I’m getting tired of staring at this hub. Let’s go somewhere.”

  “You know,” Cap began, “we’ve been through Grand Central Terminal several times now, and we still don’t know what’s outside this opaque crystal wall.”

  “Hey, that’s right!” Sparks chipped in.

  “That’s easy enough to fix,” I said. “Computer, make the wall transparent.”

  The wall shattered with eye-piercing shards.

  * * * *

  That’s how it felt, anyway. The intensity of the radiance penetrating the hub was excruciating, even through closed lids and behind hands that attempted to shield our eyes. Tears ran down my cheeks as I fell to the floor in agony.

  “Turn it off, turn it off!” I heard someone scream. It might have been me. It was hard to tell with all the shouting and wailing in the hub right then.

  Finally, I heard Cap’s commanding voice yell, “Computer! Reset wall!”

  I would like to say that relief was instantaneous, but my outraged optic nerves continued for many minutes to remind me of the folly of my ways.

  Cap wasn’t at all happy with me. “Damn it, Swede!”

  “Sorry, Cap. Someone remind me next time to ask the computer what’s outside before I make the wall transparent,” I said. My eyes still throbbed.

  “What the hell just happened?” Tom’s voice held a note of pain.

  “I don’t know,” Sparks responded. “I’m still blind. But I had the sensor pad running when the wall let in the light. With any luck it’ll tell us something.”

  “Jeez, that was bright!” Guido contributed unnecessarily.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” Tom said, getting even for their earlier exchange.

  After several minutes our vision began to return, although blearily at first. Sparks checked the sensor logs.

  “So what was that incredible light,” Cap wanted to know.

  “Sunlight,” Sparks said. “Just sunlight.”

  “What kind of sunlight can be bright enough to have that kind of impact?” Guido demanded.

  “The kind you get when you’re inside the photosphere of a Type G1V yellow dwarf star,” Sparks replied.

  “What?” the rest of us exclaimed simultaneously.

  “According to my readings, this hub is located inside a star—near the surface, but inside it nonetheless. Don’t ask me what’s holding it up. Fortunately for us, even though the computer let in a fraction of the sunlight, it continued to filter out the harmful radiation—not to mention the heat—or we’d be crispy critters right now, and permanently blind.”

  “‘A fraction of the sunlight’? Good lord!” Cap exclaimed, looking stunned. “Can you imagine the technology it takes to build something like this, something that can withstand the heat, pressure, radiation and other stresses produced by a star?”

  “I don’t know why we should be surprised,” I said. “We already know that some of these portals have lasted for two billion years. Why shouldn’t they be capable of w
ithstanding the pounding from a star?”

  “I suppose so,” Cap replied, recovering his composure. “It just takes some getting used to.”

  “Whew! No wonder they keep the blinds closed in this place!” Sparks offered.

  “You got that right, brother,” I said with a pained smile.

  “They really ought to put up a sign that says, ‘Beware of Dog…Star.’” Sparks suggested. I threw my backpack at him.

  “Get Sirius!” Guido had a wicked glint in his eye. I looked around for something to throw at him, too.

  “All right, children,” Cap scolded. He had that long-suffering-parent look that he gets sometimes. He motioned for us to calm down. “Now that you’ve had your fun, we still have to decide where to go from here.”

  “The computer told us about three of the four Progenitors’ planets we inquired about—” Sparks began, “Narvana, Celentis, and…what was the other one?”

  “Farklon,” Tom supplied.

  “Yeah, Farklon,” Sparks continued. “What about the fourth planet? Computer, tell us about the other Progenitors’ planet.”

  “The name of the remaining planet is unknown.”

  “‘Unknown?’” repeated Guido. “That’s an odd name for a planet.”

  “You idiot,” Tom chided. “The computer was telling us that it doesn’t know the planet’s name.”

  “Oh.” Guido flushed slightly. “Sorry.”

  “That is correct. No mention of the planet has ever been found in the records of the Progenitors.”

  “Isn’t that unusual?” I asked.

  “Indeed. Of the more than ten million known Progenitors’ planets, that is the only one whose name remains a mystery.”

  “Is there an official designation that other races use when referring to the planet?” Cap asked. “What should we call it?”

  “There are many names, in many languages. Most translate as ‘unknown planet’ or ‘mystery world,’ however the Krewl-tí call it Tral, which in your language is ‘Place of Wonder.’”