Across the Stars: Book Three of Seeds of a Fallen Empire

by Anne Spackman

  “Help us!” they called.

  Selerael decided to land on a flat feature on the roof of a nearby building, avoiding the transport landing space so as not to draw attention to her presence. Leaving the shuttle, she looked for a way down to the ground level of the city, but there was none. Each building of the inner city had been connected underground, allowing above ground access only through the transport shuttle landing areas.

  Selerael crawled over the roof towards the landing strip, but the drop approached something near a hundred feet to the plateau below.

  “Please…” the sounds came again. Closing her eyes, Selerael concentrated on the atoms and subatomic particles in her body and the air between it and the ground. Then she leapt over the railing. Flooding the air with semi-sentient waves, she instructed the molecules to rush in around her and cushion her fall, slowly lowering her to the landing strip. The air pressed in around her, stifling her breath. In moments, her feet softly touched the surface.

  Selerael opened her eyes to the entryway and waited for the doors to part.

  * * * * *

  Ilach shie shilel ghera? Who enters without authorization? one of the operators asked another in the traffic tower high above the city.

  Did we not receive coding? the other responded.

  No transport recognition in area. Searching—the other broke off. Unauthorized landing reported in processing area. Entry detected. No coding. Send to center.

  * * * * *

  No response. Adam heard the Goeur sentries speaking to each other. The creatures wore the same uniforms as those that Cameron’s team had fabricated from the transmissions. The Earth team was wearing as close a replica of the aliens’ suits as Cameron Zhdanov had been able to fabricate. It took Adam a moment to realize that the aliens meant no hostility towards the Earthlings, that the raised weapons were a precaution. The Earthlings’ presence had only confused the sentries, who took them as a group of their own.

  What is your group doing here? they had asked and waited for someone to respond. They were looking directly at Adam, and had been fooled by his appearance.

  They’re telepaths, Adam realized, swallowing nervously. He had never encountered other telepaths before. Any moment they were going to notice something wasn’t right about the Earth team—unless he acted quickly.

  Authorization code: chorta ahn. Adam transmitted his thoughts to the Goeur sentries slowly, scanning their minds for the appropriate words and codes, overriding their mental barriers yet hoping they had not noticed his mind presence. Unlike his, their telepathic ability seemed cursory, he learned with a measure of relief, without the ability to absorb memories and experiences.

  Making measurements for clear status. Interference will damage and slow our report. Continue patrol. Adam held his breath, hoping his words had convinced the sentry to pass by and leave them undisturbed. He tried to establish himself as the leader by stepping forward. If the sentries attempted to contact the others, they would realize that the Earth impostors could not speak by telepathy, that they were not whom they appeared to be.

  * * * * *

  Selerael had traveled down the corridor to the right ten minutes before she encountered a humanoid being. To the left of the man, a large open doorway that had been left ajar provided a glimpse into the building’s interior, a wide cavernous space filled with the intermittent sparks of industrial production—a sea of metal monoliths covered in ant-like human forms seated on gantries.

  The man who had just stepped into the corridor appeared startled to see Selerael there but recognized her garb as a sentry. He tried to suppress questions and waited to be addressed. At the back of his mind, he tried to convince himself he had nothing to fear. Production had shown an increase. All systems were functioning well.

  He shook his head, but the unsettling feeling in his mind didn’t go away. Light fingers penetrated his surface thoughts and searched for his hidden memories.

  * * * * *

  Development covered the entire surface of the planet Goeur. The planet had been completely encased in construction—even the agricultural fields and arboretums that replenished the surface oxygen had been covered; the seas were encased and restricted, native animals were contained and reproduced through controlled cloning. The high winds that blew across the surface had intensified in recent years, but the population lived protected beneath the domes. The society was a rigid one.

  The surface crust, far thicker than that of the Earth, had not known volcanism for a hundred thousand years and was entirely leveled by erosion, without mountains, canyons, or hills. Once long ago, life on Goeur had been more threatened by the erosion and windstorms that destroyed weaker vegetation and threatened even Goeur’s strongest trees and plants, all broad, low specimens with deep fibrous roots surrounding a deep tap root, designed to extract water and cling to the topsoil. This much most Goeur people vaguely knew.

  But the struggles of early history had been forgotten long ago, when a group of intruders arrived and helped the native population to tame the land and establish permanent dwellings. For many years, Goeur had lived in relative prosperity, and her technology had thrived. No one knew exactly why and when the intruders had left, but Goeur had been in the cradle of its civilization. After thousands of years, it had conquered its environment and gone to seek other worlds.

  The Goeur Empire had been born more than twenty-five thousand Earth years before, about fifteen thousand Goeur years. In that time, the Emperors had gone out to conquer world after world. In their own generation, Emperor Naloch had taken his army to subjugate the planet Jimmu.

  The Goeur Empire enjoyed a rich commercial trade. Thousands of visitors arrived each hour from the Empire worlds to bring supplies for processing in the Empire’s mechanized center. The Goeur Emperor had imposed control on higher technology, limiting access to the knowledge of production to only its native population.

  The Goeur Emperor was a harsh one. And he lived a better life than the people.

  Nevertheless, thousands of wealthy citizens lived a luxurious life in the center of the Goeur cities, retired leaders in the army and the descendants of former dignitaries and leaders, while the greatest portion of the population worked in the production centers to produce the tiersche units. These units, the Empire’s mobilized troop transport and integrated weapons systems, smaller and more agile than any Earth cruiser, traveled in sophisticated formations and were capable of sustaining up to .3 light speed contained together in a large field generated by the lead tiersche units.

  Hirech himself had come from a small Goeur city, but as a reward for maximum production in his area and field, he had been transferred to the center to take charge of yurek generator production for the tiersche units.

  As a Goeur native, he had learned to control his active thoughts and limit them to positive assessments and a single-mindedness that increased his efficiency. But in his private heart, he wished for a change. He did not completely understand the concept of personal freedom, but if he had known such a word it may have described his secret desire.

  Freedom… was there such a thing?

  He had been given clearance to take a partner after being promoted to the main city and returned each evening to his small dwelling with his partner Fierchan. At the production facility, however, she was only a worker. If she failed to produce high yields, he would have to report her inefficiency.

  He and Fierchan had produced a male child, Khorda, who lived in an inculcation center. Khorda might be a lucky one, if he showed an aptitude for the army. Hirech had never before had any children. Because he was an original child and not a clone, he had been allowed to leave his birth city, he had been promoted, and his son Khorda might advance in the same way to the Goeur army and a higher life. But Hirech’s many clones, some of whom had remained in Deerdan, his birth city, and some of the recent ones who worked under him, would live to their expiration in the production center.

  It was their call and others like theirs that Selerae
l had heard.

  She immediately felt that she could not permit their suffering to continue.

  * * * * *

  The sentry leader extended his hand, palm facing them. A moment of silence passed, and the aliens formed up to continue on their course, leaving the Earthlings alone in the corner before the entrance to the agricultural area.

  “They don’t suspect anything, do you think?” Miralah burst out, just as the sentries departed.

  “I don’t think so—not yet, anyway,” Adam reassured her.

  “But, let’s hurry.” Cameron said. “Who knows how long we’ve got before they discover our shuttle among the others and figure out that it’s not one of theirs or from any one of their territories. If this isn’t the ancient Empire all of the alien histories mention, then we may as well not take very long. I wouldn’t want to get stuck here.”

  “Me, either,” Miralah agreed, nodding, encircling Adam’s arm with her own.

  * * * * *

  While Selerael stood facing Hirech, sentries surrounded them.

  You must accompany us, the leader said. Selerael listened to the thoughts beneath the surface of his mind that he had not transmitted to her. When her unauthorized presence had been detected in the high security production building, one of the traffic controllers had reported her to the central control tower. Her transport had been located but could not be identified.

  “Uh-oh,” Selerael thought.

  Word had circulated in moments to the Emperor’s Palace that they had been penetrated by an unidentified alien vessel. Certain that one of the alien worlds was planning an uprising and had sent a spy to the production area, the Emperor had demanded that the intruder be brought to him. He would discover their plot. He was the greatest telepath of their race.

  That was how he had become Emperor, after all.

  Yes, Selerael said, and fell in behind the sentry unit. They regarded her coldly, but their behavior was not unusual. She was clearly one of them. If she were also a spy for another world, however, she would be punished accordingly. Selerael allowed them to lead her out of the production building, where she boarded an interior transport that took them through highways crowded with sentries and alien merchants and traders. From their minds she began to perceive the suffering of the subjugated worlds of the Empire. But she allowed herself to be taken to the Emperor, to learn how to free the people from his grasp.

  * * * * *

  Adam shuddered, stopping in the middle of the aisle between the fruit trees.

  “Adam, what is it?” Pilot specialist Annika Droessler asked him, taking hold of his shoulder. One of the others, their good friend specialist Aleksei Kazankov, watched their interaction, an amused expression on his face.

  “Nothing—” Adam waved Annika away but smiled. She sighed and mussed the top of his hair.

  “I’m going to be a ball of nerves before we’re out of here,” she muttered.

  “Adam, are you all right?” Miralah asked, coming up from behind. Annika was glad her uniform hid her smile; it was a wonder Adam could turn around without stepping on Miralah’s toes.

  Only Adam didn’t answer.

  Mother—where are you going? Adam asked.

  “That’s it—let’s get out of here,” Cameron announced. “Adam, are you coming?” he paused and looked towards Adam, who stood rooted to the ground, encircled by three of the others.

  “My mother,” he managed hoarsely.

  “We’ll meet her outside the city.” Cameron said.

  “No, we won’t.” Adam disagreed. “She’s not there. She’s gone into the interior,” Adam shook his head and blinked tiredly, suddenly aware that he had given the others cause for concern.

  “We’ll find her. Now let’s get out of here.” Cameron insisted.

  “You had me worried for a minute,” Miralah informed Adam as they hurried away.

  “I know how you feel,” Adam said, wondering what had happened to his mother. Surely she hadn’t been captured. No one could do that unless she wanted to be captured. What was she planning?

  The team headed back to the transport and loaded the supplies they had taken. Ten minutes passed as they prepared to take off, and finally the engines whined and ignited. Then Cameron noticed the ground sentries. Two or three hundred of them had entered the transport landing strip and pointed at their shuttle. A dozen of them turned around and disappeared into the interior, moving at a rapid pace.

  Great, Cameron thought. They’ve noticed us. “Any communication from Selerael?” he asked.

  “Negative.” Annika replied.

  “You won’t be able to reach her,” Adam interrupted. “They took her to the central tower. She’s in the Emperor’s Palace.”

  “Then we’ll just have to hold our position a little longer. She may need someone to break her out of that place,” Specialist Nikolai Brasnikov suggested in an emphatic tone.

  “We’ll stay as long as we can.” Cameron said. But that might not be long enough.

  * * * * *

  “This is some set-up,” Selerael whistled. Selerael waited in the resplendent hall reserved for the Emperor’s audiences. All around her, light filtered through the tinted canopy above, cascading on the gardens which surrounded the audience room on two sides. The sentries remained with her and searched her uniform for weapons before the Emperor arrived.

  She had none that they could see.

  A ruggedly attractive, middle-aged man appeared in the wide entryway, sheathed in thick, pale grey robes with blue and silver ornamentation. He made his way to the throne far ahead of her, avoiding eye contact until he had seated himself.

  A messenger arrived and addressed him before he turned to her. Selerael listened from across the room. The sentries had detected another strange transport outside the city matching the smaller transport she had taken. It had taken off, and they had lost it among the hundreds of nearby transports but were keeping a look out for it.

  “Your friends have left you then,” the Emperor’s orotund voice bellowed in the room. He had chosen to reserve his telepathy for her mental interrogation. “Approach,” he said, intending to intimidate her.

  She approached.

  As he watched the creature that approached, his eye twitched, as though he sensed something of intrigue in her. She was one of them, he saw, but still unlike anyone he had ever seen. Her facial features were remarkably pleasant to look upon. He caught his breath, momentarily distracted from what must be done, how he must deal with her.

  Now, his mindspeech found her. Tell me—who is your leader and where are you from? A pressure accompanied his mindspeech and attempted to push her to reveal herself. The Emperor watched her face complacently.

  His telepathic powers are strong, Selerael thought. A moment passed as she fought off the pressure of his commands.

  What is this? The Emperor spread his hands helplessly, then squeezed the arms of his throne tightly and half-rose from his seat. She blocks me! I cannot read her! he realized in surprise. He pushed harder but found no signs of weakening in the woman’s mental defenses.

  His face betrayed that he was thunderstruck.

  As the minutes passed, Selerael began to feel the rising particle wind envelop her. The strain of defending herself, though relatively slight, was enough of an effort to produce the haze of energy that animated her hair like living wires and lit her face and body in an aura of lambent radiation.

  The Emperor blinked and reacted as though he’d been slapped. He redoubled his efforts to break her and stood, glaring at the intruder. They will not escape my anger, he vowed.

  Selerael felt her disguise slowly dissipating. In a moment, she would return to her natural form. She could not maintain the illusion if she continued to use her power.

  This cannot be! the Emperor thought. None are stronger than the Emperor! Then his thoughts abruptly ceased. The woman before him stood bathed in an intense blue light that flashed brightly and then left her impossibly altered.

  He found his b
reath caught in his throat and then began to cough uncontrollably.

  The woman’s skin had become a pale grey.

  The shock lowered his defenses, left his mind open to her questions.

  * * * * *

  He remembered the day his father’s tutor had told him about the ancient Seynorynaelian Empire. They had come in ancient history when the Goeur thought themselves doomed. The intruders had helped them to build better homes, to understand the environmental forces at work in the hopes of obtaining a balance between nature and their destructive manipulation of it.

  The old legends told that their world had once been controlled by a grey-skinned people, a people of unsurpassed power. They could not be opposed, and it was not until thousands of years after their disappearance that the Goeur even dared to create their own civilization, in the fear that the grey ones might return to claim it.

  * * * * *

  The Emperor swallowed. “Who are you?” he asked aloud, trying to quell the instinctive fear rising in the back of his throat, fear he had never thought himself capable of feeling.

  “I am from Selesta, also known as Discovery, a vessel that left the planet Earth many years ago.” Selerael answered quietly in the main Goeur language. “We are passing through this area and sought only to collect supplies for our journey.”

  She had spoken his language, but the planet she mentioned was unknown to him.

  He remembered her companions in the second shuttle. So, they had all come from another, larger cruiser? For supplies? Certainly not. They would not have gone to such effort unless they wanted—Of course! They wanted to take his Empire?!! Well, he would not let them! Their ancient Empire should be no match for his modern armada, or they would have attempted to reclaim Goeur years ago, he reasoned. Yes, it was true that he feared their mental powers. But that meant nothing, he told himself, tried to suppress his fear of their reputation. Fear accomplished nothing. He had no other choice but to act—he would not live under subjugation.