by K R Sanford
LEGION’S
RIDDLE
TRILOGY
BOOKS 1, 2 & 3
The Series
By
K. R. SANFORD
Science FICTION
ADVENTURE
LEGION’S RIDDLE
TRILOGY
All Rights Reserved © 2018 by Kenneth. R. Sanford
No part of this book may be reproduced of transmitted in any form or by any
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permission of the author.
For information address:
Kenneth R. Sanford
500 W. Hamilton Avenue #110835
Campbell, CA 95008
kenrsanford.gmail.com
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN:
eBook Edition
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T A B L E O F C O N T E N T S
____________________________________________________
FORWARD: The Warrior 12
BOOK 1 THE HERO’S JOURNEY 15
BOOK 2 INTERSTELLAR 360
BOOK 3 GALAXY 717
F O R W A R D
________________________________________________________
The Warrior
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why nobody told you how to unfold your love.
While my guitar gently weeps” − George Harrison 1968
After more kills than one cares to recall, says the Warrior. One begins to reflect on things other than one’s duty to one’s homeland. This is a work for an infinite connection, a perspective beyond the mortal condition.
You might be unclear about your part here. Still, in your rest you see the eyes of the dead haunt you in your dreams. They stare back with blank faces wanting what they do not know.
But, you know all too well what they seek.
You think this day has come sooner than you expected.
The proximity of your mortality comes closer and closer.
You begin to feel the pressing of your thoughts.
You know the time has come to give account.
You are confident you possess the right value to meet your enemies.
You need only enough value to make your enemies become your allies.
You need only find enough common ground for your leadership to flourish.
Failure to supply those foreshortened lives with adequate measure. Or failure to follow through with your leadership would show your lack of real purpose. This is where your life would get reduced to the baseness of vanity and the striving after wind. So, an Infinite Connection becomes Your Ally.
Here is where one lays down the illusion of the Eternal.
Here is where one begins the journey of internalizing the inherent Forces of Nature.
Here is where we harness the potential powers of the Universe.
Here is where we take up the gauntlet of the Warrior one more time.
And, here is where our story begins.
BOOK 1
THE HERO’S JOURNEY
C H A P T E R 1
________________________________________________________
A STORM IN NEW ENGLAND
Enjoy every moment that you live,
for those are the moments when you’re living.
K. R. Sanford, August 2018
The far reaches of space have bridged ancient civilizations. New technologies have sprung to the forefront of power. It’s an age of domed cities. It’s the era of interstellar travel. It’s the presents of an elite corporate dominance. It’s the thirty-fourth century, and it’s the emergence of the alien expansion.
It happened on return of Ambassador Gaff to the Corsi Star System. The Amedan High Counsel employed Captain Marco W. Miller and the crew of the Starship Eagle. Their mission: to aid the settlement of their newest outpost. And, establish the Safe Trade Agreement 114 between the mineral rich colonies.
The diligent efforts of the Starship Eagle caught the attention of certain powers. The Elite Commission of Earth summoned Captain Marco W. Miller for an official report. Once back on Earth, Captain Miller and the crew of the Eagle got restricted to the domed city of San Francisco.
Escape was impossible. Clearance to bring the Eagle outside the dome met with delays.
Five years followed, and still, Captain Miller met with more delays. Charges of piracy lay before the courts. Hearings persisted. Captain Miller was under court order to answer about the colonies in the Middle Corridor.
Every moment of his time got wasted by corrupt corporations. Accusations to over-throw the galactic government were endless. His crew got harassed and watched. Hector Blackstone, the Eagle's intelligence officer was unable to escape prosecution. Former Captain Blackstone got convicted of space piracy. Captain Miller of was under house arrest and left to stagnate in a small apartment of the city.
Despite the efforts of Ambassador Gaff, the courts would not release Captain Miller. Only Ambassador Gaff was immune to Earth's Elite. The people of Earth feared the reprisals from a race of beings that in hovered in midair.
The Ambassador calculated. His brain glowed fluorescent. He worked for the answer and the way of releasing his friends, but of no avail.
Finally, the day came. The courts could not restrict the Miller Transport Company any longer. The Starship Eagle had its long awaited window to leave Earth.
Still, the Elite Commission had succeeded their goal. They had gained time to reorganize control in the Middle Corridor. And still more, they had destroyed the Captain. They deprived him of rest and comfort, until with exhaustion, they got what they wanted. Captain Miller got torn of command. He had been disgraced.
Nowhere in the city could he go without branded as a scoundrel and a rogue. Nowhere in Earth's planets was he safe to move about as a free man. He locked himself in his room—unkempt and dirty.
* * * *
“What are you watching?” Commander Ryan Falcon Majors gazed at Marco's black shoulder length hair.
Marco's eyes fixated on an antique sitcom. At length he replied in a low monotone voice, “Ryan, I didn't hear you come in. I was—Lucy always gets in trouble.”
“Is that what I think it is?” asked the tall blue eyed Commander.
Captain Miller's small viewing screen sat next to his bed. His tiny studio was disarray of old clothes, scattered debris and takeout food plates. Next to the post-up screen was a hole in the wallboard where a large fist drove through. “I Love Lucy,” he said. “You've seen it, haven't you?”
The Commander shook his head then speaking in a quiet tone. “Marco, we've been here too long.”
“What's the matter now, Ryan,” replied Marco. “Don't you like San Francisco?”
“Of course I like San Francisco,” said Ryan. “It's a great place, but that's not my point. Haven't you heard anything yet?”
Captain Miller motioned with his thumb to the front door. “Check the post up. I think something came in this morning. I haven't read what it is yet.”
Commander Majors
touched an icon on the entry post screen. The post screen blinked. A message marked (Urgent! Reply Requested) in bold red letters.
“God sakes Marco, this didn't come in this morning. This message is three weeks old. It's from Ambassador Gaff. Lieutenant Clairy has been re-commissioned. He's rated Captain for the Interstellar Forces.”
“Oh, really?” replied Marco, devoid of emotion. “Well, I suppose you would get the good jobs too if half of your body was bionic.”
“Maybe so,” said Ryan. “Still, he is a good man. Look Marco, I won't lie to you. I've been trying to get hold of you for the last two weeks. You haven't been answering your messages.”
“No, I guess not.” Captain Miller turned to his viewer, his body crumpled awkward in his chair. “The posts I get,” he said.
“Marco, turn off that viewer and listen to me. We're free to leave Earth. We've have a clear window through the dome, but I don't know how long the Ambassador can keep it open. The corporation's hates small independents like us. They would rather see us illuminated completely if they could. Come on, get dressed, we're getting out of here now.”
The Captain pointed to the post viewer. “The Eagle,” replied Marco. “What's it say about the Eagle?”
“I've checked the status the Eagle earlier this morning and she's ready for your inspection. Plus, I've arranged a little surprise for you, Marco. We have a few guests on board.”
“Oh,” replied Marco. “Have you heard about Lieutenant Clairy? He’s been promoted you know?”
Commander Majors showed no alarm at the Captain's deteriorated state. I’m sure he earned it,” he said.
“I don't know,” answered Marco. “He's been acting strange lately. Have you noticed?”
“Sure Marco, sure,” Commander Majors handed the Captain a jacket and said, “You ready?”
Marco slipped the jacket over his shoulders. They walked out the studio leaving the light on and the viewer playing the old re-run of I Love Lucy.
The two starship pilots continued out the twenty-four-story Victorian apartment complex. They both wore the green jade flight jackets of the Starship Eagle. They were on their way to Geary Street and Market Street Central.
In one face after another, the Commander read hostilities from business suits. The street vendors pointed accusing fingers and made backbiting comments.
When the Commander reached the trans-bay tube he shoved a group of businessmen out of the way. He pulled the Captain onto the transport walk. Within seconds they were over the waters of San Francisco Bay heading for Alameda.
The Starship Eagle sat huddled in a fleet of galactic battle cruisers. Marco and Ryan walked across the tarmac. They stood in front of a flat boxy hull. It was their upscale transport ship.
“She seems a little run down since—
Marco tried to remember the last time he had seen the Eagle gleam with fresh polish. He looked away. His eye drifted to the ballet of space taxies and hovercrafts. The traffic was making their pick-ups and deliveries at Oakland's Shipping Terminal.
“Yes, Marco,” replied Ryan. “It has been a long time.” He motioned with his hand toward the ship and started for the gangway at the edge of the tarmac.
Marco followed. He put his hands in his pockets to shield against the crisp cold air off the bay. He glared at the massive battle cruisers. “So, were on our way?” he said.
“That's right,” replied Ryan, showing a simple smile of relief. “I checked while you were getting dressed. She's cleared to raise ship any time you like.”
“Anytime I like,” said Marco. “Well, now that sounds sensible,” his face unsure of what was sensible and what was not.
Ryan pointed his chin up the gangway. “There are people on board waiting to see us,” he said.
Marco raised an eyebrow. “Well good, lead the way Commander.”
Commander Ryan Falcon Majors jogged up the metal gangway and headed for the front of the ship. Marco followed.
When he stepped inside the hatch, he turned around to take one last look across the tarmac. He eyed the interstellar warships. Rage came on his face. His fist banged against the hatch seal and the outer door slammed shut.
They stepped out of the magnavator and onto the bridge. A tall Ziltairian greeted the two officers, “Captain, you're here,” she said.
Marco attempted a smile. He pulled his hair from his face. “Yeoman Clorissa, you're looking well.” He reached out his hand. She took hold. They shared an awkward moment. “After all this time, you're still with us.”
“You can't get rid of me that easy. It's good to see you,” she replied. Her voice was smooth, deep toned and erotic. The six-foot Ziltairian smiled from the top of her golden hair down to the bottoms of her red leather boots. She looked to Commander Majors. “Commander, I'll have that information you asked for in one second.” She turned to resume her duties at communications.
The Captain studied her long golden hair flowing down the center of her spin. Her movements accented a powerful, graceful torso.
He turned to see a seedy rough looking man sitting at weapons control. The man cast a wary eye at Marco. He observed Marco’s movements. Every inflection on Marco's face, every position, every breath was being analyzed.
Marco smiled and gave the man a nod. “And you, Hector, I thought they locked you up?”
Hector returned the nod, and with the raise of his chin said. “I thought the city ate you.”
Marco vacillated behind the comment. Then, looking with surprise at seeing his old friend, the first time in three and a half years, said nothing. The graying temples and scarred lips on Hector's face showed hard times and middle age. Marco's eyes flashed with enthusiasm. It was visible to the others, but it faded and detached.
Hector’s brow furrowed. He brought his head round straight, “Good time, Babe. The Fed's kick you early if your good time isn't spent. I'm citizen Hector Blackstone, ten whole days on the streets. Do you hear what I'm saying man?”
Marco got taken back with the sharp words and hardened tone of his old friend. He stepped away to his seat at the helm and eased himself in his chair. “You've aged,” he said.
Hector returned a disgusted look, “Shit man, you've put on a few pounds,” he retorted.
“Me, no, I haven't changed. My chair feels different. The chair is harder. Maybe it got older.”
Hector reached up. He adjusted the Yankees ball cap on his head and turned down the corner of his lip. “Yeah, that’s probably it,” he replied.
Marco focused on the hand worked stitching of his leather flight chair.
Hector got up and eased himself over to Commander Majors. “How's he doing?”
“He fades in and out,” whispered Ryan. “As far as commanding a starship anytime soon, that's not going to happen.” Ryan shook his head. “You got off easy.”
“Straight time, Commander, that's the only way to do it. Plead guilty and do your time; otherwise, they fuck with you. I know better, it's not worth it.”
“I don't see how you could have gone through all that. You weren't guilty of piracy,” said Ryan.
“It doesn't matter. I was once intelligence officer for the Interstellar Forces. I did their dirty work. So, this time they gave me a choice. I could clear paper for the Elite Commission or die. It was a simple choice. What would you do?”
Ryan returned a puzzled look. “What paper did you clear?”
“Who knows exactly,” Hector shrugged. “If the fat cats want someone out of their way, the boys in the field take care of that. If a shipment needs hijacked; again the boys in the field. So, when someone starts to trace loose ends, they'll need someone to hang it on. They needed to keep away any linkage from the Elite, politics man.” Hector's face twisted with sarcasm.
“I understand,” replied Ryan. “I suppose that's reality. Marco got a choice as well, only they put him in a different kind of prison.”
Hector frowned and said, “He should have cut a deal. He doesn't have to always be so stubborn.”
Ryan raised his chin and looked eyeball to eyeball with Hector. “Hector, you don’t have Captain’s papers to protect.”
“Yea, well, there are ways around that.” Hector tried to assure Ryan with a confident nod of his head. “Besides, he still can't command a starship, he's a medical case.”
Ryan returned the confident nod, “And there are ways around that.”
“What are you two mumbling about over there?” Ryan and Hector turned. Marco leaned back in his chair. His hands laid on the armrests. A pucker was on his lips, “Let's get this ship underway,” he ordered.
“Your physical, Marco,” replied Ryan. “Your papers haven't come through yet.”
“Well, I'm as fit as ever,” he said. “Call Central; get them on the viewer. I'll talk to them.” Marco waved his finger at Clorissa's console.
Ryan took a breath. “It has nothing to do with Central, Marco.”
Marco cocked his head to one side and waited for an explanation. Ryan stepped over to his chair and in a quiet voice said. “Your medical isn't complete.”
Marco held out an empty hand, “I thought you said we had clearance, I can go anywhere I like, you said.”
Ryan's upper lip stiffened. “The ship has clearance, Sir. I have to take her up.
“Oh well, I see,” replied Marco. “Very good, take over then. I'll set over here and do nothing, how's that?”
Commander Majors turned to the command console. He ignored the raised eyebrows of Yeoman Clorissa and Hector. He Spoke in the quiet tone of ships mate. “We rendezvous with the Exodus at three thousand miles, standard orbit. Prepare systems check.”
Yeoman Clorissa ran her pink velvet arm across the navcom. She struck a few buttons on the main computer. Her deep cut Ziltairian muscles rippled on her forearm. Her wrist turned up. Again the knotted bands of digiti twisted out the lean layering of the alien arm. Her velvet smooth fingers pointed to the green light on the viewer. She looked to the command console for a reply.
