A series of explosions rattled the glowing ship, lighting up the entire plain, the citadel, and the mountains behind them. Then green plasma flared up into the sky. A clamor rose from the settlers inside the walls. A few came running out of the buildings and climbed the carved stone steps of the surrounding wall to join them on the battlements.
“By the Halls of Montezuma!” Hot rage roiling inside his chest, Kostas stared at the billowing fire, and slammed the stone wall with his fist. “Sons of bitches!”
He pulled the binocs from his belt to see better. Just two klicks away, Noah’s Ark was ablaze, the flames consuming every bit of bulkhead and cargo like a voracious monster, incinerating the dead left behind, the precious food stores, the heavy equipment, and all the things that would have made their life on this icy rock tolerable.
Turning to Trixie Kostas saw a tear rolling down her cheek by the glow of the blaze.
“Sorry about your ship, Captain.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I guess now we know we are not alone... and they don't seem too friendly either.”
Chapter Three
Aboard a cloaked Goddian starship in the planet's orbit
Prince Ktal of Godda could not afford to fail. Soft light bathed the pearly bulkhead and consoles of the command bridge, and the ship purred quietly, but it brought him no peace. His entire reputation depended on what happened on the planet below.
He turned to Kuhr, who stood beside him. His companion and only crew had golden skin, long crimson hair in a tail, and fiery eyes. “Now that we've destroyed their only means of escape, they will realize they are here to stay and must accept their fate.”
“Yes, My Prince.” Kuhr nodded with respect, smoothing his crimson silk robe. “Let's hope they fare better than the last harvest.”
Ktal pushed his long turquoise braids away from his face then locked his six-fingered hands behind his back, watching the forward viewer of the command bridge. The close up of the planet displayed the bright white fire consuming the human ship, like a sparkling comet in a field of black.
Ktal rocked back and forth in his soft white boots, setting his bright turquoise robe to sway. “At least, the quality of this new contingent is promising. Despite their small size and awkward five-fingered hands, these Humans appear healthy, sturdy, and all in their prime. No elderly among them, no sign of rampant degenerative disease or any acquired sickness. Can you believe they brought women in space?”
“How barbaric of them.” Kuhr regarded Ktal with undisguised admiration. “The emperor will be pleased, My Prince.”
“I certainly hope so.” The Goddian empire had been nothing but critical of Ktal's methods. Ineffective... weak, they said. Well, not anymore.
Kuhr pursed his black lips. “Such a shame to destroy their vessel, though... it's a large chunk of titanium.”
“Titanium is not easy to come by, and we need more ships to fight the Reptoids, but the sheer number of captives justifies the expense.” Ktal congratulated himself on such a victory. “Over sixteen hundred heads... enough healthy males and unexpected females to repopulate this entire planet.”
Kuhr nodded slowly. “I understand why you had to shoot them down. Unlike the previous party we snatched out of jump space, these Humans are astute and organized... for their level of evolution, of course. They might have escaped during transport or, in time, even found their way home.”
Ktal indulged in a smile. This could be his golden opportunity. “These Humans were able to locate the warm zone and the citadel of Kassouk on their own, and managed to crash-land in close proximity... They opened the gate without our help.”
Kuhr grimaced. “Resourcefulness is not a desirable trait for our purpose, My Prince.”
“But we could put their intelligence and ingenuity to work for us... We only need to instill in them unconditional devotion.” Ktal remembered a time when his people ruled over many inferior races through religious fervor.
Kuhr's crimson eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “Are you suggesting we pose as deities, My Prince?”
“Why not? But first I want them to reflect on the fact they are not in control, we have power of life and death upon them.” Ktal could understand how absolute power could corrupt lesser beings. Of course, his race, having reached near perfection, was immune to corruption. “How are we doing with the language programs?”
“Our satellites are listening to these Humans, analyzing their speech patterns and matching them with the information we downloaded from their crystal data banks. Before the dawn rises on Kassouk, we'll have assimilated their tongue.”
“Perfect.” It had been a few centuries since Ktal had been worshiped as a deity. He looked forward to the thrill of adoring devotion.
“Should I warm up the night a few degrees for our new guests, My Prince?”
“No. Let them be cold tonight. Learning we control their climate will make them more tractable.”
“My Prince, what if they refuse to worship us? Or even rebel against us?” Kuhr's lips pressed into a thin line. “A handful of these Humans do carry weapons, rudimentary but lethal nevertheless.”
“That won't matter. These are primitive settlers, not the latest models of intergalactic warriors. Let them try their pathetic weaponry against us.”
Both men laughed at the prospect.
* * *
In the chilly dawn, Kostas jogged behind a floating pallet, following the trail left by the snow plow the night before. He could see, dead ahead, the blackened area where the wreckage of Noah’s Ark had stood. At the sunrise briefing, the captain had assigned various tasks and entrusted him with checking the wreckage for anything useful. He hoped to find a few salvageable tools, parts, or even weapons.
Around Kostas, as far as the eye could see, the rising suns painted the snow in soft veils of salmon and pale magenta. He turned to see the citadel in all its splendor, gilded in amber light, like a beacon of hope, a pillar of stability. Behind it, the high mountains exhibited treacherous slopes and high summits in shades of lavender ice.
As Kostas neared the location of the wreckage, the snow had melted and mixed with the dirt to form mud. The smell of smoldering ambers assailed his nostrils and his boots sank into a thick layer of warm ashes. Not even the bones of the ship remained. The inferno had consumed every inch of bulkhead, every hull plate, every piece of decking, every console, every titanium crate and their precious contents, leaving only two feet deep of black and gray ash.
Still, he ought to be able to salvage something.
Of course, the weapons bay had exploded and disintegrated in the blaze. His hand analyzer beeped in a high pitch, detecting high grade steel. Kostas crouched and dug into the ashes, his bare fingers grabbing a heavy lump of warm, blackened metal. He blew the ashes off of it and examined the piece.
His hopes of finding weapons parts dwindled. But the metal might be enough to forge a sword, or a hunting knife and a few arrowheads... or throwing stars. He set the lump on the antigravity pallet. Their future, without modern weapons, would rely upon simple blades.
Following his detector, Kostas navigated the thick ashes, crouching here and there to wrench a solid clump of lesser metal, a melted plow blade, an axe head, or a twisted remnant of shovel. He even retrieved tiny bits of refined steel that might have come from precision tools, or surgical instruments.
He was disappointed to find no diamond drills or ceramic blades, but of course, the inferno had vaporized all of these, along with the laser weapons, pulse rifles, cannons, explosives. He couldn't find a trace of titanium either. The intense blaze had consumed the highly combustible metal. What a waste!
By the Halls of Montezuma, if their enemy was that determined, Kostas had to prepare these innocent settlers, or they would be sheep for the slaughter. As their survival expert, they counted on him to keep them alive, and he would do his damndest to save them... even if he had to make soldiers out of these peaceful farmers.
* * *
Trixie stopped by the circular foun
tain on the cobbled esplanade of a two-story building that could serve as a seat for the council. She pulled off one glove and touched the water... lukewarm despite the cold. The peaceful, cascading sound filled the square with serenity.
As she waited for the rest of her teams to report, she couldn't help but admire the level of sophistication of this seemingly medieval fortress. Like with the draw bridge and the portcullis at the gate, she'd discovered a multitude of simple but very intelligent designs, making use of natural features. A judiciously planned and well protected city.
Water flowed into each building from stone pipes, and out through drains. There were rudimentary but clever flushing toilet facilities. The fireplaces revealed an ingenious and efficient system of heating ducts through the walls. The large communal baths drew water from some natural hot spring.
The walls and buildings seemed carved from one piece, as if hollowed into the bedrock, or melted and molded into shape, rather than built from the base up with individual stones and mortar. The streets, cobbled in intricate patterns, indicated a high level of craftsmanship, but no wheel marks had worn the paths. Had the streets been recently resurfaced? By whom?
So far, the settlers had found four-wheel carts in storage buildings, as well as empty store houses waiting to be filled. The extensive set-up for animal husbandry amazed her. The horse stables and cattle barns could easily shelter all their herds during the winter with plenty of room to grow. One of the settlers had identified a particular building as a slaughterhouse. Trixie assumed there would be meadows in the plain below for grazing during the warmer seasons.
The settlers, shaken from the crash but grateful to be alive, appreciated their living arrangements. Not as fancy as prefab units with all the comforts of home, but the sturdy walls with basic amenities offered much more than they expected after the destruction of their ship and supplies. They could make it a home.
The citadel looked like a town waiting to be claimed, and the settlers gladly appropriated it, considering themselves lucky to have found this fortified city in a somewhat friendly microclimate zone. Without it, they could not survive this winter. Now, they stood a very good chance to not only to subsist but thrive here. If only...
What Kostas said the night before haunted Trixie's thoughts. If it looks too good to be true... She refused to finish that sentence. Trixie wanted to believe in destiny, in serendipity. The universe had a purpose, and she wanted to be part of it.
The destruction of Noah’s Ark, however, clearly demonstrated an unfriendly presence. Earlier, at the sunrise briefing, she'd shattered the settlers' belief that meteorites had destroyed their ship. Meteorites did not have impeccable aim... or incendiary charges... or batteries of deadly weapons on the small moon. Still, a few civilians, unable to handle the reality of their situation, chose to deny the obvious. They would come around.
Whether or not those aliens would pursue the settlers remained a mystery. They might have simply neutralized a potential threat in destroying an armed ship. As much as Trixie hated to admit it, Kostas had correctly assumed they were not alone. At least he had the good taste not to boast about being right.
Kostas... She would never forget the way he'd pulled her down and sheltered her with his body when he thought the missile was coming at them. She'd caught the worry in his eyes when she'd let her tears flow at the loss of her ship. She remembered the gentle strength of his protective arm across her shoulders... as if he really cared.
But she couldn't allow herself to think of him that way. She'd had enough overprotective men in her life. Her father... her despicable husband... Besides, as a soldier, Kostas probably glorified order and authority. As a pacifist, Trixie believed in overcoming differences through cooperation and tolerance. They could never see eye to eye, and she had to treat him as a volatile element.
She saw Kostas at the end of a narrow street, walking toward her with this confident stride, he didn't even wear a jacket against the wintry temperatures. Trixie's heart stumbled.
Kostas closed the short distance. “Did you see there is a small forge with bellows you can operate by hand? With chains...”
“No, I didn't.” She steeled herself for the confrontation. “How was your morning run, soldier?” She wanted to make sure he knew she didn't trust him to follow orders and kept tabs on him. “Find anything useful in the wreck?”
“A few chunks of metal I left at the forge.” He wiped his large hand against his black commando pants and offered it to shake. “Please, Captain, call me Kostas.”
“Kostas.” She heard her own voice soften as she said it. She took his hand, noticing the warmth of his skin against hers. Tendrils of tingling electricity emanated from the point where their fingers touched and enveloped her body with warmth. Despite herself, her face relaxed into a smile. “I guess you can call me Trixie. Without a ship, I'm no longer captain, just one of the many people on this democratic expedition.”
“Democratic?” He broke contact and grimaced as if he'd swallowed a box of nails. “You can't be serious. These settlers cannot make informed decisions!”
“Are you listening to yourself?” she teased lightly. “You sound like Professor McLure.”
“I hope not.” His spine straightened and his face tensed.
Trixie winced inwardly. She hadn't meant it as a barb. “Just because they are not soldiers or scientists doesn't mean the settlers lack the ability to decide for themselves.”
“But these people have no idea what they are up against. Most of them freaked at the news that we were shot down by unfriendlies. Some of them still insist that a meteorite destroyed our ship.”
“They are still in shock. Denial is a common reaction.” Trixie understood that well. “They are not ready to face reality yet, but they'll come around. Soon, we'll convene the council to elect a leader, and life will take its course.”
“The council of representatives?” His square, handsome face froze in shock.
“Of course. Who better to make decisions? Noah’s Ark's Charter provides all the government rules we need. The settlers already have spokespersons. Most of my officers, like you and I, are part of that council. It's a perfectly valid system. As citizens of thirty-first century Earth, give the settlers some credit.”
“Maybe you are right.” Kostas dropped his shoulders.
She motioned with her arm, encompassing their surroundings. “This place is pretty amazing, isn't it?”
He smiled and his brown eyes twinkled in a ray of sunlight filtering through the clouds. “The fortress looks like twelfth century Earth, with Roman engineering and twentieth century latrines.”
Trixie smiled inwardly. She'd observed the very same details. “The people of those periods did manage to flourish, if I remember my history lessons.”
“For a time...” Kostas shrugged. “But ancient Earth cultures didn't have aliens on their ass.”
Trixie chuckled. “I'm not so sure. Maybe they did.”
His brow rose in question.
“The oldest Sumerian accounts of the Anunaki, and the ancient mythologies of India and Greece, sound very much like alien visitation to me.”
He grinned, shaking his head. “I noticed that, too, but it's a controversial theory.”
So, he was a history buff like her. As much as she wanted to like him, however, Trixie couldn't afford to take his side. His military tendencies, whether genetically enhanced or learned, could spell ruin for this budding community.
Kenny, the plump navigator, came at a run and stopped in front of the fountain, holding a stitch in his side. “Captain, the scans you asked for?” he lisped, catching his breath. “We found minerals.” He gestured toward the mountains. “These rocks are full of metals and crystals we've never seen before. Some have strange properties. Our instruments are spinning off the charts.”
Tom, the engineer, joined them with a confident swagger. “And the subterranean rock is full of holes. There are underground lakes,” Tom went on, flashing the diamond in his tooth.
“Lava tubes, artificial tunnels, you name it. It's like Swiss cheese under there.”
“Caves?” Trixie knew that would be consistent with crystal deposits.
“Caves, mines, underground complexes, who knows what else?” Tom bent to catch his breath, hands on his knees, beaded dreadlocks hanging down from his red beret. “Possibly even advanced technology buried deep below.”
“Wow!” That would change everything. Trixie felt a trickle of fear dribble down her spine. What had they stumbled upon?
Kostas shook his head. “At least we know why the aliens are defending their claim to this planet. They must be mining it.”
Trixie sighed. “And if they have underground installations...”
“These minerals must be valuable to them.” Kostas' eyes narrowed. “They are not going to give them up... and we are sitting right on top of them.”
“One more thing.” Kenny glanced up at the sky.
“What?” Trixie hoped for better news.
“This rather temperate climate we are enjoying?” Kenny pressed his lips as if afraid to speak. “It's not a natural occurrence.”
“What do you mean?” Trixie felt something cold grab her insides. “Natural microclimates are common on many planets.”
“Not this one...” Kenny now stared fearfully at the sky. “We detected strong microwave beams of concentrated energy bombarding the local stratosphere.”
Trixie wanted good news, not more problems. “Could it be from some natural source, far out in space?”
“Not likely.” Kenny shook his head. “We pinpointed multiple synchronized sources in stable orbit.”
“An array of satellites? Are you sure?” Trixie froze, unbelieving. “Why didn't we detect them from space?”
“Somehow the ship's sensors missed them.” Kenny's careful neutral tone confirmed how unlikely that would be.
“Cloaked...” Kostas ground his jaw. “They must have been cloaked.”
Noah's Ark Page 4