Call of Courage: 7 Novels of the Galactic Frontier

by C. Gockel

  Cazz-ak and his detachment left the craft through the lower mind hatch and headed towards the lip of the canyon. Directly behind him was a female carrying a large Entho-la-ah-mine egg on her back. The shell was a shiny, iridescent green, glinting brightly in the mid-day star. Cazz-ak had a hard time taking his eyes off it. He hadn't seen a queen egg since leaving the hive after his birth. Behind the female were eight males, all of highly advanced age.

  When they reached the lip of the slot canyon, Cazz-ak turned to survey the group. We ate aboard the ship and have everything needed to perform the ceremony, but do we have the time required? He felt the weight of the orbiting battle starships far above, their unseen presence menacing. He turned back towards the canyon, knowing he had no choice but to proceed.

  The black stone of the canyon did little to reflect the bright daylight, cloaking it in darkness. Cazz-ak walked over the edge of the precipice and began plummeting. He quickly passed into the blackness, velocity increasing.

  As he fell, Cazz-ak sensed the canyon floor rapidly approaching. When the time was right, he used the power of the Great Thought to slow himself. He landed lightly on the rocky floor, immediately knowing his location, both from his memories and those contained in the Great Thought. A moment later, his party landed around him, the female graceful and elegant.

  Although the darkness was absolute, Cazz-ak sensed the path the Entho-la-ah-mines had traveled over their millennia of existence on this planet. Part of them was ingrained within the black, unforgiving stones, like the path was paved with thoughts and emotions.

  Following this winding path, Cazz-ak and his detachment made their way through the blackness. He was grateful for his six legs and wondered how the humans were able to do so much on just two. This pathway would be hard for humans to navigate, the rocky terrain treacherous for their fragile bodies. Human technology has imparted abilities evolution never would have, Cazz-ak thought. He had often compared and contrasted the evolution of Entho-la-ah-mines to that of the humans. Why do they hate us so much? What does it gain them?

  Abruptly, the pathway ceased. Before them lay the Way, a shaft cut deep into the mantle of the planet. The Great Thought had no memory of how or why the shaft had been created. The bore was perfectly symmetrical, smooth sided, and just big enough for an Entho-la-ah-mine body to fit through. It was one of the Entho-la-ah-mine mysteries, Cazz-ak thought, one that, with the human invasion, we will never solve.

  Just as Cazz-ak prepared to lead group down, he felt a wave of energy resound through the Great Thought. His mind was bombarded by images of gore and destruction. He stumbled and fell to the floor under the onslaught. Mutilated Entho-la-ah-mines wished for death, unable to find it. His people were tortured by ghastly shadow figures who delighted in their pain. The Great Thought was perverted, destroyed, shattered into a thousand agonizing pieces that cut through him. Cazz-ak felt the core of his being slipping away, but he held fast, knowing that to do anything else meant death.

  When it finally subsided, Cazz-ak realized none of the experience was real. The Great Thought was still there, still pure. He sensed his connection to it, and that gave him comfort. When he felt he could stand once again, Cazz-ak rose to his feet. “Is everyone OK?” he asked, particularly concerned about the egg’s contents. All the males responded positively.

  “I am alright,” the female answered. “I believe the egg is intact, but we have no way of knowing for sure until we begin the Awakening.” This response worried Cazz-ak deeply, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it right now.

  He sent out a question to the Great Thought, merging with every other Entho-la-ah-mine asking the same thing. “We do not know. Nothing like this has occurred before.”

  Perhaps a weapon the humans developed? That seemed unlikely. Their mental capabilities were far too weak produce such an attack. Maybe our scientists will discover the cause, but right now, we must continue.

  “We can't let this distract us,” he sent, mentally gesturing towards the Way. “We must proceed to the Crystal Chamber.”

  Cazz-ak dropped into the Way, using the Great Thought to keep himself stable as gravity pulled him down. The shaft was deep and even blacker than the canyon above it. It had a feeling of disuse and decay that made Cazz-ak despair. This never would have happened if the humans had left us alone. After a long fall, they finally reached the bottom. Cazz-ak continued along the path paved in mental images, the particularly strong ones distracting him.

  Cazz-ak saw the corridor as it once had been, lit in beautiful colors with thousands of Entho-la-ah-mines visiting the Crystal Chamber to see its marvels. He smelled the enticing aromas of food being prepared by the finest Entho-la-ah-mine chefs. He breathed in the intoxicating aroma of the Enlithas, young females looking for mates. Everything was so joyous, carefree, and festive. The memories, both his own and those that paved the pathway, made Cazz-ak homesick for a place no longer existing, for a time of innocence forever shattered.

  Pushing on towards the Crystal Chamber, Cazz-ak tried to shut out the images he so desperately wanted to enjoy. “We will have peace and harmony once again,” Cazz-ak sent to the group, trying to infuse it with as much positivity as he could. “Someday, we will find a place far from humanity. Peace and happiness will be ours once again.” He felt the morale of the group rise, and he tried not to let doubt enter his thoughts. What caused that polluted wave of energy in the Great Thought? he wondered, his shield slipping. No. There is no time for that. We have to complete the Awakening and escape Haak-ah-tar.

  Whether he was successful or not, Cazz-ak knew the Entho-la-ah-mines would continue fighting for survival. And I will do everything I can to save my people, no matter the odds, no matter the cost. Cazz-ak shut out both the happy memories and the polluted ones, hardening himself. He had to focus. The most dangerous part of this mission is yet to come.

  15 - Wake

  Wake bit into the krakori fish morsel, savoring the bold, tangy flavor. “Very good, no?” the vendor said. “Just one Ashcred for a whole skewer!”

  “I have business, but when I'm finished, perhaps I'll return.” The vendor immediately lost interest and began looking for a new customer.

  Pushing his way through the crowd, Wake left the fish stall and made his way towards the Lower-Elder Council Building. The food market was quite popular with the government officials in this area. Being lunchtime, it was packed.

  Wake's trial was supposed to start in thirty minutes, but since it had already been rescheduled three times, he was skeptical. From what he’d heard on the news, the Elders were busy convicting Divisionists, sentencing most offenders to hard labor on the newly colonized Entho worlds. I wonder if that's where they will send me?

  He had been on Ashamine-2 for seven standard days, waiting for his hearing. He was on the third repeat of the cycle: Get up, kill time, find out they’d postponed the trial, spend the rest of that day and the next exploring the city.

  The impending hearing was mentally taxing, but Wake tried to make the best of it. On the days between postponements, he wandered, marveling at the amazing buildings and their impossible architecture. It staggered Wake to think the entire planet was covered in some type of structure or well-manicured park. Ashamine-2, the city-planet. He'd never seen anything like it, not during any of his extensive travels with the EBD. Wake knew he didn't want to live here, but was glad he’d experienced it, even under stressful circumstances.

  “I'm Wake Darmekus. I submit myself for trial,” Wake told the guards stationed inside the entrance to the Lower-Elder Council Building. They remained silent as they led him inside. His boots, and those of the escorting guards, made rhythmic tapping sounds as they struck the polished marble floor. White pillars lined the entry hall, the bright lights making them shine. They’d never taken him this far into the building on previous occasions. That means the trial will go through. Wake straightened up, forcing himself to look calm and composed.

  Focusing, Wake tried to walk naturally i
n his new boots, a fancy pair he had to buy to meet the dress requirements. They made his feet hurt, probably because they weren’t fully broken in yet. Thankfully, his Engineering and Building Division dress uniform fit the rest of the requirements.

  The weight of the synth-diamond sword at his hip felt strange. The weapon had been a gift from his parents when he was a boy. Ashamine diplomats carried some type of ceremonial armament, although few actually knew how to use them. “A diplomat must always look strong and ready for battle, be it with words or with action,” his mother had always said. In keeping with their desires for Wake, his parents had gifted him the blade. Possessing a sword he could not use had seemed stupid to Wake, so he pestered them for swordsmanship lessons until they gave in. He’d learned from every blade master on his home world of Psinar-3. Now, he wondered at his boyhood obsession.

  Occasionally, he would run across someone who practiced the archaic art, and they would spar, but he now lacked his former passion. So why am I wearing it now? Wake was no diplomat, but the dress code contained in his summons said formal armament was permitted. It didn't represent his role within the Engineering and Building Division, but it did say something of who he was and where he’d come from.

  Wake grew increasingly nervous as they approached the massive doors at the far end of the hall. The Lower-Elders rarely conducted trials face-to-face. Usually, the Elders reviewed cases and transmitted verdicts back to the point of origin. Why is mine different? He couldn't think of a way to interpret the summons in a positive light.

  Finally reaching the door, Wake and the members of his escort stopped. The guard commander fixed Wake with hard eyes. His uniform was crisp, clean, and well-maintained. It told Wake a lot about his regard for duty and position.

  “Sir, please go in immediately. The convocation awaits your presence.” The commander’s voice was clipped and harsh, but not disrespectful. “Please speak only when directed to, show the deference due your station, and keep yourself under control at all times. Your sword will stay in its scabbard for the duration of the trial. It is decoration for this ceremony. You will only use it as such. The Elders are shielded from attack and impossible to harm. If you act threatening, however, we will take preventative action. That action will result in your death. Do you understand my instructions?”

  Wake nodded, looking down at his sword apprehensively. He still wondered whether it had been the right decision to wear it. Am I going to look too militaristic?

  Two of the guards pushed the doors open and stood at attention. Their crisp military manner made Wake even more apprehensive, but he pushed the feeling down as best he could. The commander motioned Wake to walk inside, and he did so, entering a space unlike any he had ever seen.

  It was enormous, the ceiling so high Wake couldn't make out its details. The walls curved, creating an enormous spheroid. A wide ledge came out from the walls at a height of ten meters. Large, white banners bearing the Ashamine insignia hung above the ledge. Hidden fixtures lit the room, and since almost everything was white, there was little to diminish the overwhelming illumination.

  The Lower-Elders were seated on platforms along the ledge at perfectly spaced intervals. They were old, not as old as the High-Elders, and certainly not as ancient as the Classad were rumored to be, but old all the same. When he neared the center of the room, he realized they circled around him. They do this for a purpose, Wake thought, feeling watched from every direction.

  “Stop!” a curt voice commanded as Wake reached the center of the room. He did so, lowering his head in deference. A long silence followed and Wake could feel every eye on him, probing, evaluating, testing.

  Moments dragged by until a new, flat voice broke the silence. “Hear, all present: This is an official convocation of the Lower-Elder Council, appointed and sanctioned by the Founder, Classad, and High-Elder Council.”

  “Can we dispense with the worthless formality?” an older, tired sounding voice interrupted. “We have many Divisionists to try, and they are of far more importance.”

  The man directly in front and above Wake rose to his feet. He was tall, and his platform rose a meter higher than the others. That must be the Presider .

  “My dear Odameesi,” he said, “we have plenty of time to settle both this man's case and those of the Divisionists. This trial was mandated by the High-Elders. We must give it our full attention and maintain all legal procedures.” He then turned and addressed the group, raising his voice. “We are here to decide the fate of this man, known as Wake Darmekus, of the Engineering and Building Division of the Ashamine. Let it be announced to the ends of the Akked Galaxy that he is charged with the malefactions of delinquency of duty, disregard for safety, and the murder of twelve colonists.”

  Wake felt the Presider's words slam him like a physical blow. The High-Elders mandated this trial? They are charging me like the accident was completely my fault? What about my protest of the materials? I was forced to use them! Anger roared through Wake as he realized they were going to make him take the fall instead of some greedy bureaucrat with ties to the High-Elders.

  “How do you respond to these charges?” the Presider asked, face expressionless. Composing himself and straightening to his full height, Wake looked the Presider directly in the eye.

  “In the evidence log, you will see I submitted several reports prior to the bridge accident. In them, I clearly state the materials sent to me were faulty.” Wake had to calm himself, realizing his anger was bleeding into his words. “I submitted multiple requests for replacements, but was continuously ordered to use the original parts. The only choices I had were to use the materials or disobey a direct command. Under these circumstances, I don't see how I can be blamed for the accident or the colonists’ deaths. The officer who forced me to use the parts should be held liable. Have you even looked at the evidence?!”

  As the last word left his mouth, the room erupted. Shouldn’t have said that, he thought. Shouldn’t have let my temper control me. These men demanded respect and were used to receiving it. Wake stood tall, knowing that backing down now would make him look weak and guilty. All around, the verbal inferno raged.

  “I see no filed reports!”

  “Liar!”

  “He was negligent! He must be punished!”

  “There’s no evidence of faulty parts!”

  “How can he disrespect us with such blatant lies!”

  After several long moments, the tumult quieted. One of the Elders, a tall man with pure white hair, spoke out in a clear voice, “Surely this man seeks to shift his blame to others. This defense has been perpetrated since time immemorial. We have no record of reports. The Ashamine inspector who visited the site declared faulty workmanship. What do you think of that, sir Darmekus?”

  “This Wake Darmekus is a fool and an idiot if he thinks we will be taken by such blightheart,” a short, dark Elder proclaimed. She then uttered a curse and glared at Wake, her expression as hot as the fires of the dark star. Immediately, an uproar of insults, curses, and rejoinders flew through the large room.

  Wake now had no doubt he was being set up. His workmanship had been flawless and his reports had disappeared. Lies, he thought, sliding deeper into despair.

  “Order! Order!” the Presider said, fighting to regain control. Eventually, the clamor calmed and the Presider addressed the assemblage. “We have all heard this man's testimony. We have viewed the statements of his senior commanders as well as that of the inspector. With these things in mind, we must come to a decision.” He paused momentarily, looking around at his fellows. “All those who feel Wake Darmekus of the Engineering and Building Division of the Ashamine is innocent, please stand.”

  Around the room, five of the thirty Lower-Elders stood, including the Presider. Wake began to feel a horrible emptiness in his guts. It was as if something was draining him, siphoning out all his feelings.

  “All those who feel Wake Darmekus is censurable for these malefactions, please stand.” Now, the remaining tw
enty-five Lower-Elders stood, faces grim. A few even had malicious expectation blazing in their eyes.

  The Presider, a look of surprised terror on his face, stared at Wake. But that wasn't quite right. The Presider was looking past Wake, at something behind him.

  Wake turned and saw a dark form crouched near the doors. The world spun violently and Wake crashed to the floor. His left leg twisted awkwardly beneath him. Just as the pain built to an agonizing crescendo, the limb slid out from under him. He looked up from his prone position as a figure strode past him, its features obscured in a billowing black robe. How did he move so fast? Wake thought dazedly.

  He tried to push himself back to his feet, but his abused left leg and ankle screamed with pain. Wake fell back to the floor. Remaining prone, he swiveled around to watch the figure’s progress. The guards should arrive any moment.

  The dark figure stood below the ledge where the Presider sat, hooded head tilted up. Then, an instant later, it stood on the ledge directly in front of the Presider.

  “I am from the Brotherhood of Azak-so,” the figure said, deep voice booming across the large chamber. “I bear a message from myself and my fellow Brothers.” Then, before the words had finished echoing, the figure disappeared.

  “We have tried to convey this message through subtle means, but you refuse to listen.” The voice was now behind Wake. He scooted around and saw the figure was now directly across the room from before. “We now force you to hear. For many years, this government—this Ashamine— has become increasingly repulsive.” He said the word Ashamine like it was profane. Then he was gone again, moving to another portion of the platform.

  Why aren't the guards here yet? The whole situation seemed surreal, like Wake had fallen into a nightmare.