Children of the Aris: Set in The Human Chronicles Universe

by T. R. Harris

  “Yes, master.” The moniker was one Crin adopted a while back that brought satisfaction to Garus. At least the alien knew his place. “We can launch when you instruct. What is our destination?”

  Garus looked to his companions.

  “We will be leaving the Zone, transiting above the ecliptic. We must find a new base.” Then to Panof and Docem: “I hope that is agreeable?”

  “Perfectly,” Panof said.

  Garus nodded. “Before we abandon the freighter, we need surplus power modules from the engine room.” Garus said. “They require some disassembly and are heavier than the Gracilian can do on his own. You can retrieve them while I test the circuits. We shall leave when your task is complete.”

  “The alien can use mechanical assistance—” Panof said.

  “That will be acceptable; we will retrieve the power modules,” Docem interrupted. “Let us now complete the arrangements to leave the freighter. Come, Panof, we have a task to complete.”

  Once Crin and Garus entered the DM starship, Garus raced to the bridge and took the pilot seat.

  “The anchor and teleportation equipment is in the aft hold, master.”

  “I know. Strap in.”

  The engines were already primed, and now Garus began operating the controls, locking the entrance to the launch bay and evacuating the atmosphere. The single exterior door panel began to slide away.

  Garus, what are you doing? Docem asked telepathically.

  I am following my path, the Master’s path. You may follow your own … eventually.

  This is insanity!

  The DM starship rocketed into space. When it was only ten miles away, Garus sent the command that detonated the explosives set throughout the freighter. There was a brief flash on the screens and then nothing.

  “Master, what have you done?” Crin asked incredulously.

  “I have eliminated an obstacle.”

  “But they were your companions—and are they not immortal?”

  “They are, but for the time being, they will be frozen immortals. Eventually, they may be recovered, but by then, my destiny will have been fulfilled.”

  Crin sat silent for a moment until he noticed Garus working the navigation controls. “Are we not heading out of the Dead Zone?”

  “No, Crin, we are not.” Garus turned to the alien. “I will now reveal a secret to you that the others refused to disclose. You mentioned how Gracilia is the closest inhabited planet to where the ancient Aris homeworld once existed. You further surmised that your world must have been one of the first seeded with life at the beginning of the Grand Experiment. You were right about the location but wrong about the seeding. The Aris did not seed Gracilia.”

  “They did not?”

  “No, Crin. But there is more you need to know. The Aris did not seed Gracilia because it had already been seeded by the Luz. The world you know as Gracilia was the planet on which the evil Aris exiled the Luz. Crin, my brother, your homeworld is also my homeworld. And now we are both going home.”

  “Then we are the chosen people,” Crin gushed.

  “Yes, you are. And now, I will need the help of my distant relatives to not only fulfill my destiny but also to fulfill the destiny of the Gracilians.”

  CHAPTER 7

  NO STARSHIPS ARE ALLOWED to land on Gracilia without first checking in with the Enforcer station in the capital city of Lanacon. After the native’s deadly affiliation with the renegade Maris-Kliss Regional Director Wolfgang Stimmel, the Gracilians were looked upon as the bad boys in the Dead Zone and restricted to their homeworld. But since the planet was still in the process of recovering from Kracion’s attack many years ago, they were allowed supply shipments of critically-needed goods they couldn’t provide for themselves. This included food since the soil was not fully recovered by this time. However, the Gracilian population was still relatively small, compared to what it had been pre-Kracion, which made the task easier. The current population of Gracilia was estimated to be about three million, mainly scattered around Lanacon and the surrounding temperate area, leading toward the desert to the west.

  In reality, most of the Gracilians who returned to their homeworld weren’t a threat. They were the desperate refugees, those who were barely getting by in exile. The wealthier refugees who managed to leave the planet before the attack chose to remain exiles in other parts of the galaxy rather than return to their once-irradiated world. But the others, when allowed to return home—and under the protection of the powerful Maris-Kliss executive—chose to do so. Then Stimmel met an untimely death, leaving the natives with neither protection nor a sponsor. And now, a screen of Enforcer ships orbited the planet, not to keep the peace but to remind everyone who was in charge.

  Even so, the Enforcers weren’t that rigid in their duties. They knew their role was more for show than substance. As a result, many of the officials were not beyond a little bribe here and there to supplement their Enforcer pay.

  The Gracilian Crin was by now a loyal—almost worshipping—devotee of the Master Garus. He saw him as a long-lost father figure, powerful, authoritative and wise. After all, his qualities and traits were those of Crin’s as well, although three-billion-years removed. Still, it was enough to get him to contact friends on the surface and grease the right palms, allowing the DM starship to land at the refurbished Lanacon spaceport after a little notation was made to the file reading ‘food supplies.’ Upon landing, other Gracilians appeared with towing vehicles and moved the vessel into a metal hangar and out of view of prying eyes in orbit.

  A small crowd of the impressive looking, black-skinned creatures stood silently as Garus recited more of the story of how the Luz and the Gracilians were related. He emphasized that although it was only the Luz ancient genetic material that went on to create the Gracilian race, there was a common bond between them and the pale-skinned immortal entity standing before them. Crin then told an edited version of how the Masters appeared from a quantum beam, having survived for eons in another existence. He didn’t speak of Solon or Pontus's death, or how Garus blew up the freighter with the other two Masters aboard. That happened before Crin understood his relationship to the god-like creature.

  But now they needed partners in the great challenge to come. Garus had a plan for leading the galaxy, and his ancient offspring—the Gracilians—would be there to share in the glory—and the power—that would result. It was as the Gracilians had always imagined it should be.

  To the person, the thirty-one Gracilians in the hangar vowed their allegiance to Garus and swore they would recruit more to their cause. The Master explained how he needed a protected work area to construct the Formation—a magical device that the Gracilians had in their possession for many years before Adam Cain stole it. And Garus needed more than scientists; he needed fighters.

  Fortunately, many of the Gracilians who survived after Kracion’s attack on their planet were of heartier stock, the labors, the merchants, even the soldiers of the civilization. Many knew how to fight, and it would be those who would be recruited. Garus could handle the science part.

  After the crowd dispersed, Garus and Crin met in private.

  “I know of a facility in the desert to the west of here,” Crin said. “It is far away and secluded. It is where the dark matter starships were first built.”

  “Who knows of this?” Garus asked.

  Crin grimaced. “Unfortunately, Adam Cain and the Enforcers know. There have been battles fought there.”

  “Is it defensible?”

  “Yes. The facility is underground and with few entrances, unseen from the air.”

  “I do not need much room to build the Formation; however, I need the quantum beam generator and ample power supply.”

  “There is adequate power at the facility.” Then Crin hesitated. “I can look for other locations; I am sure there are others less well-known to our enemies.”

  “I will not need much time. And once my experiment is complete, we will have nothing to fear from Adam
Cain—or anyone else. Yes, make arrangements to move me to the facility. And Crin, I need an army to protect it. Should Adam Cain and the mutants learn I am on Gracilia, they will come for the Formation. They must not get it. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, master. My brothers—our brothers—will provide you with the army you need, and fighters, not thinkers.” Crin smiled. “Even I will take up arms in your defense.”

  “It is not my defense I am concern with, Crin. It is defense of the Formation. It is the most important device to have ever existed. And you will share in its glory.”

  “I am honored, master. I am ready.”

  “Then go, make arrangements.”

  As the alien scurried away, Garus shook his head. They are so easily manipulated, so easily fooled.

  CHAPTER 8

  ADAM CAIN WAS nervous as a cat. It had been seventeen days since the exchange on the asteroid, and he was banking everything on the hope that Garus went to Gracilia. He feared that with a DM starship and the Formation, there was literally nowhere in the galaxy Garus couldn’t go. Adam had been trying to convince himself that without the Formation code sequencer, there wasn’t much the Luz Master could do with the device. But Panur made sense. The damn thing created the guy; he may not need the code to know how to make it work. And without needing it for a biological process, who knew what he would use it for?

  The only thing working in his favor was that no stray DM signals had been detected heading away from the Dinis star system in a direction other than Gracilia. That still didn’t mean that’s where he went, and if he had, that he was still there. The planet wasn’t the most developed place in the Zone, and it was under constant guard by his Enforcers. If he were Garus, this would be the last place he would go.

  But where else could Adam start? At least it was something, and it was better than sitting around waiting for Garus to come after his friends again once the alien learned Adam took one of the disks. At the time he took it, he was hoping it would screw up the Masters’ plans. Now he was praying it wouldn’t. But the only sure way of protecting his friends for sure was to find the damn Formation. And Gracilia was a good place to start. Hell, it was the only place to start.

  Adam, Riyad and Sherri spent an extra day in orbit above Gracilia before landing, tracking DM trails and relaying them to Navarus for analysis. With more refined readings, the mutants were better able to determine the signals' residual strength, even as there were more here than anywhere else in the galaxy. Finally, they were able to detect a fresh trail that descended toward the Lanacon spaceport. This was the most active landing field on the planet and had only been reopened a year ago. By then, fewer DM ships were in use, making this trail an exception to the other ghost traces they picked up. This had to be Garus.

  And the good news, no strong signals were detected leaving the planet, meaning he was probably still there.

  Adam’s ship landed in the VIP section of the spaceport, close to the Enforcer station, and to warehouse row where sorely needed food stocks were stored until they could be moved around the planet.

  Adam nearly gagged as he stepped out of the starship. The place smelled like shit—literally, like shit. To be more exact, cow manure. The smell was an after-effect of MK’s fertilization efforts to bring the Dead Worlds back to life. For years, the company dumped trillions of cubic meters of the stuff from orbit onto the land below. It reminded Adam of driving on I-5 in California past the infamous Harris Ranch, and smelling the aroma from thousands of cattle grazing along the roadside. Later, MK became more discerning with their deposits after colonists and natives began occupying the planets. Adam wasn’t sure what went into the foul mix, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t made from cow shit. The result, however, was the same. Nearly all Dead Worlds smelled like this and would until the soil recovered enough where prodigious amounts of fertilizer were no longer needed. Although Adam could see a significant greening of the landscape in and around Lanacon, the ecosystem was still many years from replenishing the land with the life-giving nutrients the deadly neutron radiation of the attacks had removed.

  At first, MK provided the fertilizer showers for free, seeing financial opportunity in the revitalized worlds. Now it cost to have the fertilizer brought in. And at one time, Gracilia had been owned by the Maris-Kliss Regional Director Wolfgang Stimmel. During that brief time, he doubled, even tripled, the efforts to bring the planet back to its former glory. Unfortunately for Gracilia, his efforts were cut short when he was sucked into a miniature blackhole, one initiated by none other than Adam Cain.

  And that was why there was an Enforcer Garrison at the spaceport in Lanacon. The Gracilians had sided with the wrong Human, and now they were paying the price. Even so, the natives didn’t much appreciate what happened to their generous patron. Many construction projects had been abandoned half-completed, providing a nest for the miscreants of Gracilian society to flourish. Many blamed Adam for their plight, and on the half dozen or so visits he’d made to Gracilia since Stimmel’s death, the natives showed no propensity toward forgiveness. If anything, the animosity the natives felt for him had only festered more.

  The trio of Humans entered the modest two-story building that housed the security and customs detail at the Garrison, receiving only a modicum of attention from the dozen or so Enforcers in the main room. Although everyone knew who they were, the plethora of aliens who made up the security contingent didn’t seem too impressed that the co-leaders of the Enforcers—along with the Vice-President of the Zone—had just walked into the building. However, the ranking officer—a major—did come out of his office to greet them, although his demeanor was more bored than impressed.

  “Captain Cain, we were not told of your visit,” said the burly Estrancan, a former refugee from a Dead World who was off-planet when Kracion attacked his homeworld. “We would have made better preparations had we known you were coming. “ His name was Juron Kilous, and he’d bounced around the Kidis Frontier for several years before coming to Navarus to join the Enforcers. Adam remembered him from his prior visits to the planet after the lockdown.

  “There was no need, major. A spur of the moment visit,” Adam said. “We’re looking for a dark matter-powered starship that landed here about ten, maybe twelve days ago. I need to know where it’s parked.”

  The alien frowned, shaking his head.

  “I recall no such vessel. They are unique and draw attention. Of course, I have not been here continuously. We shall survey the logs.”

  They went into Juron’s office and checked his computer. He was right. As far as the logs went, no ship matching the description had come to the spaceport in months; in fact, the last DM ship to land at Lanacon came with the Enforcer Commander aboard.

  It came here, I’m sure of it, Adam said to Sherri and Riyad through his ATD.

  They’ve doctored the records, Sherri thought. Probably a lot of that going on around here.

  Remind me to fire this asshole when we get back to Navarus, Riyad added.

  Then aloud, Riyad asked, “Anything unusual happen around here recently?”

  “Examples?” Juron asked.

  “I don’t know; any ships you remember trying to land without authorization, pirate activity, contraband being seized.”

  “All of that happens daily, Commander. As you know, most of our activities take place in space, monitoring all incoming and outgoing traffic. But once a ship makes it to the surface, we quickly lose contact with the crew and cargo. Do not misunderstand; the quarantine is effective at keeping the Gracilians confined to their homeworld. But other beings are free to come and go, as long as they have business on the planet.”

  “So, nothing out of the ordinary?” Sherri reaffirmed.

  “Only recent labor disputes, but that has nothing to do with the Enforcers.”

  “What labor disputes?” Adam asked.

  “Most Gracilians are desperate for employment, and working at the spaceport is one of the most coveted positions. The pay is e
xceptional, supported by off-world interests. But recently, there was a mass work abandonment by the natives.”

  “How massive?” Adam asked.

  “Over thirty Gracilians quit on the same day. They have since been replaced, but at the time, my counterparts at the port thought it unusual.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Ten days ago … yes, ten days,” Juron answered.

  “Where did they work? Were they scattered around the facility or in one department?”

  “Most were from warehouse maintenance and storage.”

  “For the food stock?” Adam questioned. With how scarce food was on the planet, he was sure workers in that department got their share of extra rations. Leaving such a cushy job would have been foolish.

  “No, these were mainly for ship storage.”

  Adam perked up. “Which warehouses?”

  Most of the former employees had worked a bank of fourteen huge Quonset-shaped hangars where spacecraft were stored or worked on by their owners. There weren’t many vessels in the spaceport requiring storage, not like the pre-Kracion era, so most were empty. Still, it was worth a look.

  Something about the mass walk-off didn’t sit right with Adam. Employment in Lanacon was near one hundred percent, minus the colonists and natives who refused to work or had other conditions that made them unemployable. But for thirty-plus natives to simply quit their jobs had to mean they were offered something better. And in the area, there was no place better to work than the spaceport.

  After a quick check to verify that no new construction projects had been started in Lanacon over the past two weeks, projects that could lure away a fair number of workers, the Humans began checking the hangars, splitting up to cover more territory.

  Adam knew the DM ship was here somewhere—gravity waves didn’t lie—although his Enforcers may.

  Juron was correct about the workers having been replaced. The block of warehouses had plenty of activity around them. But Adam and the others weren’t looking for people, but a thing—a DM starship. If it wasn’t visible on the tarmac, and it hadn’t left the planet, then it had to be in one of these hangars.