by Colin Weldon
Copyright © 2017 by Colin Weldon.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Colin Weldon/Createspace
Dublin
Ireland
www.colinweldon.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout & Design ©2017 - BookDesignTemplates.com
The Agathon Sword of Stars/ Colin Weldon.
ISBN -13 – 9781546813521
ISBN -10 -1546813527
(print)
To Mum and Dad
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Audra Labak for her tireless efforts in helping me edit The Agathon trilogy. To my parents and family, who continue to put up with my dreams, I say a huge thank you and to my wife, Te Amo..
To the adventure…
“God not only plays dice, but also sometimes, throws them were they cannot be seen”
―Stephen Hawking
Table of Contents
1: RUTHENIUM HOME WORLD
2
3: THE AGATHON
4: THE SIENNA CLARK
5: RUTHENIUM ORBIT
6: THE AGATHON
7: THE SIENNA CLARK
8: THE AGATHON
9: THE PRAXIS
10: THE SIENNA CLARK
11: THE SIENNA CLARK
12: THE SIENNA CLARK
13: THE PRAXIS
14
15: THE AGATHON
16
17: THE AGATHON
18: THE SIENNA CLARK
19
20: THE AGATHON
21: THE SIENNA CLARK
22: THE AGATHON
23
24
25: THE AGATHON
26
27: RUTHENIUM HOME WORLD
28: THE SIENNA CLARK
29: THE SIENNA CLARK
30: THE SIENNA CLARK
31: DEVICE CORP: RUTHENIUM HOME WORLD
32: THE AGATHON
33: RUTHENIUM HOME WORLD: DEVICE CORP
34: THE AGATHON
35: THE AGATHON : BRIDGE
36: MAIN HANGER DECK
37: THE AGATHON: HOME WORLD DAY 18
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
1:
RUTHENIUM HOME WORLD
“Move quickly, or the blades will be unforgiving,” said Tark’An to his son as he swung one of his four swords down sharply towards his head.
“Father!” Shri’An shouted as his back hit the stone wall, the blade still sticking out of his torso.
There was a faint clatter as Shri’An dropped the remaining three swords on the ground. Tark’An felt four hands pressing against his waist as his son grasped at his body frantically trying to stop the bleeding. It was a familiar sensation. He had felt cold steel enter his body on several occasions and knew by its location that no vital organ had been penetrated. He would certainly need medical attention quickly before he bled out, but he knew that Shri’An would call the physicians immediately to take care of him. He felt his body stiffen as it went into shock and looked up at the young man who had just defeated him for the first time. Shri’An’s anguished face was full of panic. He reached up one of his arms and pressed the three digits of his hand against his son’s face. He smiled at him.
“You are a warrior now,” he said watching as the world around him began to blur.
“Hold on, father, I will get the physicians,” said Shri’An.
“I know you will. I am very proud of you, my son. See you on another moonrise,” Tark’An said as unconsciousness approached.
It was like before. This time, he knew he would wake from its grasp. He had seen death. He had welcomed it at one point in his life. This was not the same. When real death came for him, he would be ready for it. It would come for them all soon, but not yet. There was much work to be done. Death would take everything in this galaxy before it came for them. He was ready for it now. The time had come. He was tired. He closed his eyes and slept.
DEVICE CORP MEDICAL BAY
Emperor Drak’Lk took a step towards the medical bed and waited for the doctor to revive Tark’An. His four arms folded together under his thick black robes. A single ray of light cut through the blinds, casting a strong white light over the bed. He was furious. The idiocy of this was beyond even Tark’An. He was becoming unpredictable, unstable and a danger to the mission. He understood of course. Anyone who had seen what Tark’An had seen would have already gone over the edge. A ritual suicide was a near certainty at this stage, but he thought that he would at least wait until they had completed their objective so that their people could have a chance at survival. He ignored Shri’An who was seated next to his father. He would deal with him later. The doctor rounded the bed and injected the thick leather skin of Tark’An’s lower left forearm with a syringe. The effects were instantaneous. He opened his large green eyes and glanced up at Drak’Lk. He looked blearily around the room first to Shri’An and then back to Drak’Lk. Tark’An swallowed hard and licked his dry lips.
“Your Eminence,” Tark’An said.
“Shri’An, would you wait outside? I would like to talk with your father,” said Drak’Lk.
Shri’An placed a hand on his father’s chest and stood up to leave. Tark’An smiled at the young man. The doctor bowed his head slightly in the direction of Drak’Lk and followed suit. Tark’An moved his lower left arm down his torso and felt the small puncture wound which the doctor had healed with precision.
“You are angry,” said Tark’An looking at Drak’Lk.
Drak’Lk unfolded his arms and pulled back his robes taking a seat next to the medical bed.
“And why should I not be?” replied Drak’Lk.
“You have my humble apologies, Your Eminence,” said Tark’An.
It sounded rehearsed. Drak’Lk knew that he hadn’t meant it, but it had to be said under the confines of protocol. He sighed and looked out of the small slit in the blinds at the warm sun outside.
“I would ask you what you were thinking, but I fear the response I’d receive would merely be to placate me.” said Drak’Lk dryly.
“It would,” replied Tark’An.
“How are you feeling?” said Drak’Lk.
“Alive,” said Tark’An.
“Well, that is a start,” replied Drak’Lk, “So, he beat you then? Age is finally catching up with you.”
“I slipped,” Tark’An replied with a grin.
“I see,” Drak’Lk said, “Perhaps you should watch your footing more carefully next time. Although I sincerely hope that there is not a next time. Not until we have completed our mission, General. Or have you forgotten the billions of lives that are entrusted to your care?”
Tark’An raised his torso up and sat up straight in the bed. He looked at Drak’Lk sternly before swinging his thick legs over the side and leaning forward.
“No, I have not forgotten,” said Tark’An.
“So, we will not be
having any more of these accidents then?” said Drak’Lk folding his arms again.
While he was not that much older than Tark’An, only one hundred or so years, his arms were still in good shape and struggled to knit together across his hidden muscular chest.
“You have my word, Your Eminence,” replied Tark’An.
“Hmm,” said Drak’Lk feigning a smile, “What you need is a warm cup of K’Ri.”
“That would help,” replied Tark’An holding his side.
Drak’Lk rose from his chair and placed his left and right upper arms on either side of Tark’An’s shoulder.
“Soon, my friend, we will be gone from this place and we can begin again,” Drak’Lk said.
“Yes, Your Eminence,” Tark’An said looking out at the bright yellow sun.
“To the journey,” said Drak’Lk squeezing his shoulders.
“To the journey,” replied Tark’An.
Drak’Lk turned and began walking out of the room. He dropped his smile as he passed through the containment field. Shri’An was standing against a wall waiting for him. Drak’Lk looked at the young man and paused. He walked over to him slowly and looked deeply into his eyes. Shri’An bowed his head.
“Your Eminence,” Shri’An said.
Drak’Lk looked at Shri’An with a cold eye and did not return his nod. He stood looking at Tark’An’s son and drew in a large breath into his triple lunged chest. He turned his body and moved past the young man, not saying a word. There was nothing to be said that he couldn’t communicate with a disapproving look. Then again … he turned back to Shri’An.
“You are responsible for your father’s safety,’ Drak’Lk finally said.
“Yes, Your Eminence,” Shri’An replied with his head still bowed.
Drak’Lk paused for a moment before turning and walking away down the corridor.
2
Carrie Barrington stood on the asteroid and looked up. It was beautiful. A dense field of rock and ice swirled peacefully around her. She looked on as Jack’s alien ship, The Sienna Clark, as she had christened it, as the actual name was unpronounceable, cruised gently across the night sky. They were watching her. She looked down at the jagged rocks under her feet and tried to catch her breath. It had been a long day. One more to go then she would return for some much-needed rest. Her arms ached. She took a deep breath and launched herself off the surface using her palm thrusters and gently ascended away from the surface of the floating rock. She flipped both her hands up in front of her and held her position roughly a thousand klicks away from the oblong rock. She drew a bolt of energy from deep inside her. A powerful discharge of electricity burst from the palms of her hands and hit the surface of the asteroid blowing it into thick chunks of debris. She released the impulse and fired her palm thrusters to avoid a small cluster of rocks that were headed her way. With a combination of palm and foot thruster movements from her alien form-fitted suit, she manoeuvred her way around the debris and began flying through it like a bird in a forest.
“Okay, Carrie, that’s enough, it’s time to come in,” said Jack, again another name she had given the leader of the grey aliens, as their language was incomprehensible. His perfect English came in clearly over the imbedded comm system in her faceplate.
“On my way,” replied Carrie as she spun her body in circles through the remainder of the asteroid.
She drew herself along a flight path avoiding the bulk of the explosion and headed back in the direction of the waiting alien vessel. As the Sienna Clark grew closer, she slowed herself by gently using her palm thrusters and angling herself towards the small docking port on one of the eight triangular surfaces of the outer hull. It had a singular row of lights, which followed the contours of the door. Without it being illuminated, it would have been impossible to see. Its colour and shape matched the texture of the outer hull perfectly. She reached its perfectly smooth surface and slowly pressed her hands against it. It immediately turned transparent and began rippling, letting her know that she could pass through it safely. She placed her arms by her side and activated her thrusters allowing her to pass through the porous hull like she was breaking the surface of a liquid. As soon as she was inside, the outer hull quickly solidified and returned to a solid state blocking out the view from the outside and turning a greyish colour. She felt the pull of the gravity plating and felt her body as it was pulled to the floor. She looked around the airlock, at the pristine white walls of the empty chamber, and waited to hear the familiar sounds of the atmosphere around her. A small strip of lighting integrated into one of the walls turned purple letting her know that she could pull back her face plate and breathe normally. With a single tap to the base of her skull, the face plate lifted off her head and merged into a small compartment in the back of her skin-tight suit. She moved forward to another seemingly blank grey wall ahead of her and laid her hand against it. It rippled and turned transparent.
Waiting for her on the other side with a blank expression was Doctor Tyrone Tyrell. It was a slight shock, as she hadn’t felt his presence behind the wall. She took a step back unexpectedly. The irises and whites of his eyes were completely black. She hadn’t seen his human eyes in weeks and although it was disconcerting to look at, she had gotten used to it.
“My God, Tyrell, don’t do that to me,” she said holding her chest.
Tyrell raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t do what?” he replied.
“Never mind,” she said taking a step through the now rippling wall as she entered the walkway.
“How are you feeling?” Tyrell asked as they moved together through the corridor of the alien ship.
It had taken several weeks to get used to the layout of the strange vessel. All the walkways seemed to look identical. The walls were all uniform white, with only the odd colour coded dots of light at the end of each one denoting what deck and section they were on. After countless days of getting lost, Carrie finally figured out the system. Three dots followed by one squiggly line meant that they were on deck three, section one, starboard side.
“I’ll be feeling a whole lot better when we get these people settled,” Carrie replied.
The ship was now home to the remaining human race, the so-called galactic refugees. The transfer from the space stations was not without its problems. Carrie had been shocked to learn how the remaining humans had been living for the past thousand years. Members of the colony had been ‘plugged in’ to a nightmare power plant and were being used to harness energy for the surviving ‘tribes’, as they had come to be known. There had been a rebellion on board following the brutal rule of a man called Arturo Verge. He had been killed by a small group of rebels led by Aron Elstone. Carrie had come to rely on Aron as the appointed leader for the humans. The ‘tribes’ had not all come willingly, with some expressing a pronounced fear at the sight of the alien vessel. They had, however, been persuaded away from their homes and onto the vessel where they then set a course to rendezvous with The Agathon. The crew of the alien vessel were instructed to stay clear of the humans. They had isolated themselves in the upper decks as to minimise the distress of some of the younger members of the ‘tribes’. Carrie knew that they hadn’t entirely stuck to that rule and with their personal cloaking technology, had walked amongst them unseen. Studying them. She had sensed the aliens as she moved amongst the tribes and had brought it up with Jack on several occasions. He had denied it, but she knew he was hiding something. She had let it go, as she sensed no immediate threat from the others on board the ship. It had probably just been sheer curiosity. She couldn’t blame them, of course, but she kept a very close eye on their movements whenever she could.
“Where are you going?” Tyrell said interrupting her train of thought.
Carrie had to constantly remind herself that somewhere in that body the real Doctor Tyrone Tyrell was probably dead. Lost in the mind of the alien black substance that had taken him
over. The brief look of horror she had seen in his eyes in the shuttle craft as he had cried out for help was the last and only communication that the real Tyrell had been able to say to her. She knew that there had been no way to save him. No way to separate The Black out of Tyrell’s body. Besides, whether she liked it or not, she needed The Black. It had been a sacrifice she had come to terms with. The galaxy was overrun with giant robotic planets hell bent on its destruction, and whatever The Black was, it knew how to deal with it and save the rest of humanity at the same time.
“I’m going to check in on Aron,” she replied as they rounded a corner.
“Jack requires you in the control centre, Carrie, he needs to discuss a problem,” Tyrell said.
Carrie continued walking towards the transport pod. She noted how Tyrell had started calling the alien ‘Jack’. Tyrell’s human vocal chords were also unable to pronounce his actual name. She took comfort in knowing that The Black was also limited in what it could and could not do while inhabiting Tyrell’s body.
“Jack can wait. I’m going to check in on Aron,” Carrie repeated.
“As you wish,” Tyrell said.
They approached the transport pod, which looked like an alcove carved out of one of the ship’s walls. They stepped onto the lit circular platform and turned to face the corridor. Carrie hated this thing. Every time she used it, she felt cold and disconnected to her body and mind as the mechanism scrambled her atoms and transported her to wherever she was going. She placed her hand on one of the curved walls. While the device worked with telepathic thought, Jack had adapted the technology to respond to vocal commands, so that Carrie and Tyrell, and only Carrie and Tyrell, could move freely about the ship.
“Deck six,” she said.
The corridor in front of her vanished, a split second later it was replaced by another. This one was full of activity. A light breath of cooled air escaped from her lungs before her body temperature returned to normal. The disjointed feeling of body and mind subsided before she moved down the hall. Tyrell followed closely behind. Human faces looked up to greet the new arrivals. Some with smiles, others with suspicion. Some twenty or so men, women, and children met her gaze. She smiled at them as she moved towards a small group carrying a crate of clothing towards one end of a long hallway. A young woman holding a child backed against a wall as she passed. Carrie felt fear from the woman. She was in her thirties and wearing a dark black robe covering a long ankle length skirt. Her hair was tied back and she looked tired. Carrie had noted the colour in her face. They were all looking a lot healthier than the first time that they had come aboard. The malnourishment, that most of the ‘red tribe’ had suffered, was swiftly dealt with by the advanced medicine available on-board Jack’s ship. They were fed well and it showed on their glowing skin. The healing on the outside, however, was not mirrored inside, due to the scars of generations of abuse. The sudden revolt that had toppled Arturo Verge and the subsequent arrival of an alien vessel had sent a shock wave through the thousands of colonists that had been left behind. Aron Elstone had been pivotal in their transition and while Carrie was still getting a handle on his unique personality, she knew immediately that she liked him. He was brave and honest. He spent his time caring for the colonists and looking after his daughter whom he’d liberated from the fluid filled pod she had grown up in while her body was hooked up to the stations power plant. She was one of the lucky ones. They had lost three of them when they were unhooked. One simply went insane and killed himself, and the other two drowned when the pods themselves sealed shut during a malfunction when the power plant was shut down. Maya Elstone was a quiet girl. Carrie had spent time with her trying to train her mind using her telepathic abilities to soothe the, sometimes violent, reactions she would have towards others when they approached. She was making progress though. She was still unable to speak, or unwilling, but Carrie knew there was something special about this girl. She suspected that she was telepathic herself. She had a strong mind.
