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

by Mark Terence Chapman

  “Oh, ye of little faith. Just take a deep breath and hang on.”

  I did exactly that.

  “Pod 3 exiting the bay,” Tom reported. Then a minute later, “Here we go!” He triggered the drive while I held my breath.

  A split second later I blinked at the sight of a light rain streaking down the cockpit window. Then we fell.

  It was only a few centimeters, but for a split second my heart was in my throat. As the pod settled into the mud, we heard a sound like an explosion. Thunder? More likely a sonic boom created by the air we displaced instantly being compressed and then expanding again.

  “Wow.” That was the only word that came to mind. It was all over so fast I hadn’t even had a chance to really get nervous.

  “Amazing.” Tom toggled his radio. “Shamu, we made it.” The sound of brief cheering came through the speakers in my helmet.

  The computer had landed us on the correct side of the gorge—that is, the side with the Seat of Power on it, saving us the three-hour trudge through the muck and rain. Instead, we were only forty meters or so from the Seat.

  “Let’s get out of here and head inside,” I suggested.

  “Fine by me,” Tom replied. “We’re going in, Shamu.”

  “Roger, Tom. Keep an eye on Swede. Don’t let him do anything crazy.” Sparks’ voice radiated concern.

  “As if I could do anything to stop him.”

  “Hey,” I interjected, “stop talking about me like I’m not here! Besides, this’ll be a short visit. I know what I need and where to find it.”

  “I hope so,” Tom grumbled. “If you try to kill yourself again, don’t expect me to carry you all the way to the portal by myself to get you cured.”

  “Don’t worry. I promise this visit will be quick. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m worried about.” We exchanged smiles. Then Tom popped the hatch and we exited the pod. It took only a minute to reach the building, then another to doff our suits and head inside.

  We quickly made our way back to the central chamber. I sat on the bench and positioned my hands. Soon I was “one with the Seat” again.

  * * * *

  I opened my eyes and turned to Tom. He was too engrossed in something on his sensor pad to notice. “Tom, we can go now.”

  Tom jumped. “¡Jesús, José, y Maria! Don’t do that!” He held his free hand over his heart. “Are you done already? It’s been less than an hour.”

  “All done. We can head back.”

  “Good. Much better than the last time we visited here,” he said with a smile.

  We went back outside and retrieved our suits; then we re-entered the pod.

  “Shamu, this is Pod 3,” Tom radioed. “We’re coming home.”

  “That was fast,” Sparks replied.

  “Sparks,” I called, “you should be receiving a transmission from the Seat by now.”

  “Roger. It’s flowing in as fast as the ship’s computer can handle it. I’m impressed! It didn’t take long at all for the Seat to interface with our computer.”

  “That’s what the first-contact protocols were for, right? See you shortly,” I said. “All right, Tom, let’s get out of here.”

  “You got it.” He triggered the starflight drive and an instant later we were floating fifty meters from Shamu. Unlike the downward trip, where we needed to materialize as close to the ground as possible to keep from falling and possibly damaging the pod, on the return leg we didn’t have to be as precise. No sense jumping too close to Shamu and running the risk of colliding with her.

  Within minutes, using the small compressed CO2 maneuvering jets we’d added for this purpose, we were safely back aboard Shamu.

  * * * *

  Hours later, Shamu continued to receive data from the Seat’s database. The crew gathered in the Commons.

  “Are you sure the computer can hold everything the Seat’s sending?” Sparks asked, a bit nervously.

  “Don’t worry. The first thing the Seat did was to impose new storage and compression algorithms that are hundreds of times more efficient than the ones Shamu’s computer used before. We can’t hold the entire contents of the Seat’s database—actually, less than one percent of it, but it’s still quite a lot. We’ll have enough information to cure hunger on Earth and allow us to colonize hundreds of worlds, and that’s just for starters. When we get home we’ll broadcast it to every country on Earth so no one can try to withhold the knowledge.”

  “I don’t know,” Guido said, rehashing our earlier discussions. “I’m still worried about the whole cultural contamination problem. How do we know this knowledge won’t be the downfall of Earth culture?”

  “There’s no way to guarantee that, obviously. To my mind, though, it’s better to give everyone everything than to try to filter it. Once the genie’s out of the bottle, there’s no way to stuff it back in. Every scientist, every farmer, every company will have access to the advanced techniques of the Progenitors. If anything, I’m hoping all this knowledge will stimulate growth as everyone tries to be the first to redevelop some of the materials and technologies they learn about. We’ll see rapid advances in food production, pollution reduction, clean tesserene-powered energy production, space travel, terraforming methods that increase the pace of colonization, and so on. We’ll no longer be dependent on the resources of just one planet.

  “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. I’m no longer worried about having our spirits crushed by the knowledge that there are other races out there more advanced than we are. After all, we now know that we’re the descendants of the first and most powerful of the spacefaring races. If we push ourselves hard enough, we can take a place at the forefront of knowledge and space exploration. And this time it won’t take hundreds of millions of years to get there. We can probably accomplish it in centuries with the head start we’re being given.”

  Guido countered, “Maybe so, but will we be ready?”

  “If the transformation were going to happen overnight, I would say no, but with centuries of learning and adapting, I don’t see why we can’t be ready to take our rightful place in the galaxy.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’m just worried that if we go too far, too fast, we’ll destroy ourselves.”

  “I know, Guido, but I think it’s far more dangerous to let Earth continue in ignorance the way it has all this time. What would happen if a fleet of Stromvik ships showed up in the Sol system fifty years from now, annoyed that we smelled bad, or wanting Earth for its water? We’d be utterly defenseless with today’s technology and we could be wiped out in a matter of weeks or months. We can’t afford to leave all of our eggs in one basket, as it were. One little blue planet is all that stands between us and extermination.”

  “Unless you count the colonies on Genesis and Terra Nova,” Tom argued.

  “True, but if the Stromvik—or whoever—wipe out Earth, do you think they’ll have any trouble with the few thousand colonists on those planets?” I paused for a moment to let the thought sink in. “The point is, now that we’re becoming noticed on the galactic stage, humans can’t afford to be bit players relegated to a small role. If we’re going to prosper, we need to be on an equal footing—if not better—with the other races out here. We can’t afford to be thousands or millions of years behind on technology—including weapons, unfortunately.”

  “When you put it that way, yeah, I guess you’re right,” Guido conceded.

  I saw slow nods from the others. “All right, then. Let’s finish up here, jump back to Richelieu and collect the iron and copper ore we left behind. Then we can go home.”

  Home. That thought, perhaps more than the others, generated cheers all around.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Almost ready to go, Cap,” Sparks reported. “The computer’s finished receiving the upload from the Seat, and Tom and Guido say they’re just about done tinkering with Pod 3. They wouldn’t say what they’re working on, but Tom was grinning from ear to ear w
hen he stopped by earlier. We should be ready to leave for the Richelieu system in another ten to fifteen minutes.”

  “Good. We’ve certainly got enough tales to tell from this mission! And to think the first couple of weeks were so boring.” Cap had a far-off look in his eyes as he reminisced for a moment. Then a crooked smile spread across his face.

  “That sure changed in a hurry.”

  We were on the bridge and I was chatting with Cap and Sparks while Tom and Guido finished up. I was really looking forward to getting home to a real bed, homemade meals and a bathtub I could soak in for a week. I closed my eyes and smiled at the thought of having a quiet dinner with Helga. My reverie didn’t last long.

  “Cap! We’re getting an incoming message!” Sparks jumped in his seat.

  “What? A message? From whom?” Cap frowned. “Who knows we’re out here?”

  “Just a sec. I’ll play it over the intercom so everyone can hear it.”

  An imperious voice emanated from the speakers. “Who are you, and why are you trespassing in our territory?” The voice had the tonal quality of someone grinding gravel.

  “How can they be speaking Universal?” Cap asked.

  “They’re not,” I said. “Part of what I had the Seat upload to Shamu was the translation program used by the portal computer. It only took a few seconds for the Seat to interface with our computer and convert the program into something our computer could read. There wasn’t room to download the millions of languages on file, but I did manage to include a few thousand, figuring that ought to be enough to get us started.”

  Sparks finished for me. “Then I tied the program into the communication gear while we were waiting for the rest of the data to transfer, and voilà! Nearly instantaneous two-way message translation.”

  “Maybe someone ought to answer the message we just received,” I pointed out.

  “Right,” Cap responded. He spoke into the audio pickup. “We’re explorers, just passing through. We were about to leave when you hailed us.”

  “We do not recognize your type of ship. What race are you?” the alien voice demanded.

  “We’re called humans. We’re from the planet Earth, thousands of light years from here. As I said, we’re explorers. Our ship is designed for prospecting and hauling cargo. We aren’t a threat to you.”

  “Hoo-menzz? We know of you. You were involved in the portal incident. Our people lost much face because of you.”

  “Lost face?” I closed my eyes, “Oh, no—don’t tell me.” I just knew what I was about to hear.

  “First you cause trouble for us in the portals, and now you steal from us!”

  “Steal? We’re not stealing anything,” Cap objected. “We just came here to visit the Seat of Power, as the Krewl-tí call it.”

  “You lie! You are mining minerals that belong to the Stromvik!”

  “No we aren’t. The minerals in our holds were mined in another system far from here.”

  “Another lie! You claim you are explorers, yet you have weapons mounted on your hull.”

  “Those are for defensive purposes only,” Cap countered.

  “Yet another lie! Your weapons are too powerful for a cargo ship. Drop your shield and prepare to be boarded. We shall see for ourselves whether you are merchants or thieves.”

  Cap was amazingly cool, considering our previous encounters with the Stromvik. “We will not be boarded. If you persist we will defend ourselves.”

  Sparks and I exchanged worried glances. Defend ourselves? Against what—a patrol boat, a cruiser, a battleship?

  We heard a snort—of derision? “Then you will die.”

  That simple sentence, uttered without emotion was far more chilling than a snarl would have been.

  “Now what?” Sparks asked.

  “Now we get the hell out of here,” Cap ordered. “Swede. Bring the engine up to full power. Sparks, plot a course for Earth. Now!”

  It took me only seconds. “Engine’s at full power. We’re ready to go.”

  “Course plotted, Cap,” Sparks announced a moment later.

  “All right, then. Let’s go!”

  “Aye, Cap. Cap!” Sparks shouted. “They’ve hit us with some sort of energy weapon. We’re not moving—we’re frozen in place! There doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with the ship—it’s like we’re just stuck in the mud, spinning our wheels.”

  “Tom! Guido! Swede! Man your weapons!” Cap shouted over the intercom.

  “Aye, Cap!”

  “Roger!”

  “I’m on it!” I turned and raced to Engineering. There was no room on the bridge for firing controls for the three weapons, so we’d had to install them in Engineering. It was a tight fit with all the other equipment in there, but workable. Tom and Guido beat me there by a few steps.

  We strapped ourselves into the seats and enabled the controls. I was in the center, with Tom to my right and Guido on my left. We could have simply slaved the firing controls to the targeting sensors and let the computer do the shooting, but there was no way the three of us were going to just sit around doing nothing while there was a war going on. We had to help protect Shamu!

  “Lori’s online!” Guido called out.

  “Patty’s ready,” Tom confirmed.

  “Holly’s up,” I chimed in.

  “I’m sending you the targeting data now,” Sparks responded. “Also, Cap’s rotating the ship slightly to bring both lateral weapons in position to target the Stromvik ship. Their dampening field neutralizes the starflight drive, but not the maneuvering thrusters.”

  I swallowed a suddenly dry throat. Before, the weapons had seemed like fun, when we were shooting at asteroids and competing with one another for top honors. It didn’t seem like so much fun anymore. What were the odds that we could fight our way out of this?

  My screen lit up with seven blips, sending my adrenaline level up several notches. How could we possibly defend ourselves against seven attackers? Were we up against a squadron?

  “Do we know what they are?”

  “Six of them are small and fast,” Sparks replied, “and armed, judging by the energy signatures. I’d say fighters, and they’re closing on our position. The seventh is the mother ship. It’s huge—nearly a kilometer in length and bristling with weapons.”

  More than ten times our size. Definitely not a patrol boat. More like an aircraft carrier. We were a minnow up against a shark.

  “No itchy trigger fingers,” Cap ordered sternly. “We don’t want to start anything. Don’t fire unless we’re fired upon. Our shield is at maximum strength, but we don’t know what kinds of weapons they have. They might cut through the shield like butter. We’ll just have to hope the billion-year-old modifications we made are up to modern specs. Target the fighters and wait for my order.”

  The ships kept coming, and we just sat there, waiting. The tic under Tom’s left eye returned. A trickle of sweat meandered down my left cheek. It itched maddeningly, but I couldn’t take my hands off the controls to brush it away. I just knew that the second my attention wavered, that would be the moment the Stromvik attacked.

  “Why fighters, I wonder?” Guido asked, nervously. “Why not just blast us from the mother ship?”

  “I guess they want to try to take us alive,” Tom replied.

  “Ten klicks,” Sparks reported, cool as can be.

  How could he be calm under these circumstances? My stomach was doing somersaults.

  “We don’t know the range of their weapons,” Cap continued, “or what kinds they have, so be ready for anything.”

  Great. For all we knew, their opening salvo would obliterate our very atoms.

  “Five klicks, two klicks, one klick. They’re stopping, just outside the shield.”

  “What are they doing?” Cap asked.

  “Nothing so far. They’re just…jockeying for position, I guess. Wait, they’re each firing some sort of ray at the shield—extremely localized. I think they’re trying to punch their way in!”

&n
bsp; “Cut? How?”

  “The ships are generating a small interference field that’s attempting to disrupt our shield. I presume they plan for one or more ships to slip through it once they’ve penetrated the shield.”

  “Can they get through?”

  “Given time. The shield is already weakening slightly.”

  “Right, then. That does it. Open fire on the fighters!” Cap ordered.

  Instantly, we rained hellish energy on the intruders.

  Or we would have, except the shield blocked our outgoing attack as effectively as we hoped it would stop any incoming attack!

  “Cease fire!” Cap bellowed. “Sparks! Figure out a way to allow our weapons to penetrate the shield without lowering it. We need a way to stop those ships, and fast!”

  “Aye, Cap!”

  I felt like a complete idiot. All that time working on how to implement advanced weapons on Shamu and it never occurred to me that the shield worked both ways! Stupid! The only consolation I had was that no one else had thought of it either. Instead of death, all we gave the alien fighters was an impressive fireworks show. But, hey, Shamu was a cargo ship. We weren’t used to this sort of thing.

  I got a momentary chuckle from the thought of the alien fighters crapping their pants when we fired at them, even if we accomplished nothing by it.

  Minutes passed, growing increasingly tense. I started gnawing my lip, mentally urging Sparks along. We couldn’t just sit there. We had to do something!

  Sparks announced, “Cap, I think I worked out a way to let us fire, but it’s not very elegant. I slaved the firing controls to the shield so that for a split second, just as we fire, the shield will shut off then reform a few milliseconds later when the weapon blast is through. But it means that we can’t simply hold down the firing triggers to shoot. We have to fire in short pulses, rather than as continuous beams. I changed the firing controls to do just that. Obviously this isn’t a perfect solution. The Stromvik can just blast us continuously; then every time our shield goes down for an instant their weapons fire will get though. But at least it’s something. It’ll buy me time to come up with something better while you’re fending off those fighters. Meanwhile, the shield is weakening where they’re concentrating their fire. We’ve got at most seven minutes before they’re through.”