The Pathfinder Project
A Novel By:
Todd M. Stockert
Text Copyright © 12/2005 & 6/2012 by Todd M. Stockert
All Rights Reserved
Dedication: This book is dedicated to the astronauts who have lost their lives in the pursuit of exploring space, as well as to ALL of those soldiers in the U.S., our dear friends in the U.K. and other NATO allies, and the rest of the hard working citizens of the free world, who have fought to keep us safe over the years. These soldiers... these people are the real life heroes who actually go out and DO the kinds of positive things on our tough planet that the rest of us can only dream about. I would also like to include a memorial honoring ALL those who have died defending freedom, fighting fires, serving in law enforcement or otherwise putting their own lives on the line for the rest of us. We ordinary citizens couldn't survive in this world of ours without a lot of brave, courageous heroes to keep us safe!
This novel is also dedicated to my extended family, friends and all of the people I have lived life with, laughed with, and who have since passed on. Many of the names, traits, comments, and personalities of these people are sprinkled into the characters that were written specifically for this storyline. May God keep their souls safe and happy and protect them forever! I love and miss you all!
As for my immediate family... I love all of you dearly! Hi Mom & Dad!
Please Note: Images that go with this story are included within the Chapters, posted in the order you should view them. They are also linked in with the “Table of Contents” in case you want to easily skip back to them for another look once you’ve read farther into the story. However, if do look at the images in advance, you may diminish parts of the story the first time reading the full adventure. I highly recommend that you exercise a little patience and study the images only once you have reached those specific points in the story! Ultimately, however, the decision is up to you. Regardless of what you decide to do, have FUN!
Fair Warning! This is a story about space exploration on a scale never before reached, occurring only days after a major war on Earth. If the mild discussion of religion or Intelligent Design offends you, then this might not be the book for you. (Many people often turn to religion for guidance during times of crisis, so it would not have felt right to exclude it from this story). Additionally, several members of the crew undergo severe hallucinations caused by an unknown pathogen mixed with their own insecurities. Some of those hallucinations also include religious overtones. If you are easily offended, this may not be the story for you.
Table of Contents
CAS Technology Diagram (Large)
Prologue: The End
Chapter I: Armageddon
Chapter II: Hide and Seek
Chapter III: Reality Check
Joseph’s Pathfinder Sketch
Chapter IV: Boomerang
Chapter V: Memorial
Chapter VI: Flux Control
Pathfinder Schematic (Side & Top Views)
Chapter VII: Aftermath
Chapter VIII: Affairs of State
Chapter IX: Chaos Theory
Chapter X: Phantasmagoria
Chapter XI: Scaredy Cat
Chapter XII: Black Tie Affair
Mystery Transmission
Chapter XIII: Wasteland
Chapter XIV: Situation Normal…
Chapter XV: Dark Matters for Discussion
Chapter XVI: Intelligent Debate
Chapter XVII: Poseidon’s Might
Mystery Transmission (Updated)
Lucy’s Picture
Chapter XVIII: Discovery
The Proteus Galaxy
Chapter XIX: Terra Firma
Chapter XX: Missive
Epilogue: The Beginning
About the Author
CAS Technology Diagram (Large)
THE PATHFINDER PROJECT
Prologue: The End
The following events take place in the Sol-system at some point in the 22nd century…
After being forced to wait nearly three and a half hours, His Majesty King Drik Gyilto the second was finally admitted into the lowest level of the underground compound by two security guards. Both of the men were tall brutes, broad-shouldered and each dressed almost completely in black. They carried long, curved hunting knives strapped firmly to their waists along with fully automatic machine guns. Gyilto was familiar with the weapons, because it was his government that had acquired them for the Brotherhood. Money from his coffers had also funded most of the underground construction.
The rocky, winding corridor through which he was escorted seemed way too tall and wide to be completely safe so far beneath the surface. The initial tunneling effort reaching down this far had obviously been completed long before his time, but Gyilto was nevertheless impressed by the workmanship. He was so far down below on this particular visit that he seriously doubted even the most powerful bunker busting bombs could threaten the integrity of the sprawling underground complex. Every few dozen yards, huge steel support beams reinforced flat metal sheets braced against the tunnel ceiling. It all looked and felt totally secure.
Somewhere in the distance, not far ahead, he heard the sound of water dripping.
Fortunately for his darkening mood, the walk was a rather short one. After his long wait in the small, claustrophobic lounge, his Majesty’s patience was wearing extremely thin. He had personally taken it upon himself to visit the Brotherhood’s central command station in his small country of Ghuitan on several occasions, but Drik Gyilto had never before been treated so rudely. Then again, he had never before asked to see the actual command center itself. The Triumvirate in charge of the Brotherhood was notoriously secretive and hesitant to share their operations with anyone – even those who paid the bills were on a need to know basis. In the end, Gyilto hadn’t minded much since the arrangement offered more than a little political protection… just in case things somehow went sour. Espionage operations had a notorious tendency to do just that, unfortunately.
Then there were the rumors swirling through all major cities in Ghuitan that something major was in the works, and that whatever it was that would take place would happen soon. Ordinarily such idle gossip did not concern him, because there were always plenty of false rumors circulating, much of it deliberately planted to mislead. But Gyilto was certain of his sources in this particular case – he had heard the information that bothered him directly from operatives he trusted totally. Thus, he had made up his mind early on to verify their veracity. It was time to see just what his country’s wealth had been purchasing, and also make certain that the larger plan he had supported would in fact bloom to fruition.
They paused at a large metal door that looked to be solid black steel. It was framed on the top and sides by additional bands of reinforced steel. The door itself contained a small, barred window at eye level. However, it too was protected by a sheet of steel that was behind the bars and could only be opened from the inside. The ominous silence, broken only by the occasional sound of water droplets, was unnerving to say the least. His Majesty was surprised to discover that even this far beneath the surface of the Earth, even a King’s normally calm and composed nerves had the undesirable tendency to fray easily.
One of the guards eased into position alongside a large, steel-framed door while the other produced an electronic keycard. The larger man, partially blocking Gyilto’s view, proceeded to insert the thin device into an access port next to the door’s entry keypad. Amongst the silence and intermittent drips, he heard the guard pecking in a quick set of numbers. There was an electronic buzzing noise followed instantly by a loud, mechanical clunk that echoed throughout the corridor as the door’s internal locking system rel
eased. Turning slightly, the guard smiled malevolently. “You may enter with caution,” he instructed sternly. “We will wait for you here. But be aware, if you possess weaponry of any kind you will die before you can use it.”
Gyilto eyed the sharp-featured man warily. “I assure you, I am unarmed,” he snapped nervously. “Your people did have more than three hours to search me, after all.”
“We are simply warning you, in case you carry weapons that cannot be scanned,” the second man offered in response. “Those who oppose the Brotherhood instantly regret their choice. We have not survived nearly five decades by tolerating betrayal.” His colleague pulled the huge metal door open and waved Gyilto forward.
The entrance led into a huge, cavernous room with a ceiling that stretched so far above that the King could not even see it. He moved cautiously forward through subdued lighting, down a walkway neatly splitting two lengthy sections filled with chairs. There seemed to be hundreds of seats, the vast majority of which appeared to be occupied by people whose soft, whispering chatter completely shattered the earlier silence that had threatened to unnerve him out in the corridor. At the far end of the massive underground hideaway was a large wooden podium sitting atop a large stage. Directly to its left was a simple, rectangular wooden table with a thoroughly polished surface. Behind it sat three people wearing dark robes… two of them were male. Gyilto instinctively ignored the audience – it was the Triumvirate, the trio onstage he journeyed to meet.
“Welcome, your Majesty,” said one of the men rather agreeably as all three rose to greet him. His voice was dark and grating and seemed to lack emotion of any kind. “My name is Hobak.” He waved graciously toward what seemed to be the only remaining empty chair in the room and smiled more than a little malevolently. “Please… have a seat. We have much to discuss on this particular day.”
Gyilto could no longer contain his curiosity. “Everything begins soon, then?” he prompted, turning toward his assigned seat. For the first time his eyes caught a few faces from the audience and what he saw there froze him completely in his tracks. There were some occasional variations in hair style and eye color, and yet virtually every face in the audience bore a striking resemblance to one of the three people currently standing on the stage. Almost all of them, in fact, were a perfect match with one of the three Triumvirate leaders.
“How?” he gasped with astonishment, trailing off in shock as he studied the audience members’ startling similarities. “How did you…?” He tried again to ask the question and failed.
“Part of the operation your government has been funding is a cloning operation,” smirked Hobak, revealing that he could indeed show at least traces of positive emotion. “We three are perfect, so we procreate by cloning.”
“To answer your question, the end begins soon.” The attractive female’s sudden smile was just as shark-like as her colleague’s. “I am Valiana, and seated next to me is Durgon, the third member of our Triumvirate.”
Swallowing hard, Gyilto turned to look at the female seated directly to his left. Her hair was a dusty brownish-red and cropped short, but other than that she appeared to be an identical copy of Valiana. The man seated to his right looked exactly like Durgon wearing a black uniform instead of robes. Everyone surrounding him indeed appeared to be a clone created from one of the three people seated in front of him. The entire matter was extremely unsettling, to say the least. “Where did all of these… clones come from?” he asked with a growing inquisitiveness. “I only saw one corridor leading out of the waiting area, near the elevator shaft.”
“You passed by many other corridors on your way here, my King,” stated Durgon firmly. “Those who serve this far below the surface were simply hidden from you. We use holographic projectors to cover entrances to the other key areas of this level with the image of solid rock. Any enemy who manages to gain access to this complex is thereby guided directly into a deadly trap, although we have yet to make use of it.”
“We were understandably puzzled when you asked to meet with us, your Majesty,” continued Hobak. “You have never asked to do so before, and we have always worked hard to insure that our reputation is a formidable one. Most who ask too many questions about our Brotherhood and this Triumvirate in particular, eventually end up… missing.”
“You have done much for my small, beleaguered country,” countered Gyilto immediately, fighting back both his fear of the Brotherhood and a sudden, instinctual urge to panic. “If the world is to end today, I would know specifically who brought about its destruction. I must insure for the sake of my people that you will adhere to our agreement and protect them from harm.”
“You should know that your request to meet with us was initially turned down,” Valiana observed with a smirk. Her long, dark hair, unrestrained, fell in dark, curvy waves behind her head and across her shoulders. “We are curious as to why you would risk so much by persisting.”
Shrugging his shoulders indifferently, Gyilto eyed them a bit more confidently. “You have admittedly done much for my small country over the years,” he admitted to them. “You have contributed significantly more than the meager assistance sparingly provided to us by any other governing body on this wretched planet. Even so, before I turn over my final payment – five thousand kilos of gold – it seemed logical to meet the leaders of the Brotherhood and find out more about the people who were about to orchestrate the destruction of Earth as we know it.”
The light within the massive cavern was noticeably dimmed, and only a faint glow from somewhere below lit the faces of the Triumvirate in a hellish glow. Chuckling with mild amusement, Hobak studied the lined face of Drik Gyilto carefully. “During all of your efforts to raise your nation into a respected class, what has been your greatest obstacle?” he asked curiously, observing Gyilto intently in order to better gauge his reaction.
“The West,” growled Gyilto after pondering the matter for a moment. “The United States, in particular. They are so well established and so economically powerful that a small country like mine, with limited resources and a small population, has no chance for anything other than long-term mediocrity. I am sick of sending delegates to the U.N. for endless negotiations about trivial matters that lead nowhere.”
“Indeed, the power of the West is the single most important factor that must change,” agreed Durgon with a sharp nod of his head. He was tall, broad-shouldered and blonde. Even from a seated position he towered over the smaller form of the female seated next to him. “After Earth’s two World Wars, the West took advantage of its victories and gained too much strength and influence. Together with their allies in Europe, they have been pinning everyone else down politically and dictating the direction of global markets for far too long.”
“You look Russian,” noted Gyilto, pointing a tentative finger in Durgon’s direction. “And your words have a notably Eastern European dialect to them.”
“Excellent!” Hobak responded with clear approval. “You are a skilled diplomat and familiar with the linguistic arts. Durgon’s clone line does indeed originate in Russia.” He briefly gestured toward his own darker skin and hair, along with the slight tilt at the corners of his eyes. “My line clearly began in this region, south of China but east of India. Fortunately our cloned Brothers who work above ground don’t all bear such recognizable traits, or our efforts to upset the balance of power would have been that much more difficult.”
Gyilto had been listening patiently, but uncertainty briefly touched his thoughts. “Your line…” he began, struggling with the term and then trailing off while he studied them even more closely. His gaze drifted to those seated next to him, and he took a few minutes to turn completely around in his chair so that he could conduct a brief survey of the other people seated behind him.
“Why yes, all three of us have a genetic origin and subsequent clone line,” noted Valiana. At first glance, she appeared to be an American, judging primarily by her soft white skin, subtle curves and the flawless English she spoke.
There wasn’t a trace of Europe or Asia to be found in her accent, but the same could certainly not be said of the two men. “We three were the first in the Brotherhood’s cloning process… a highly successful attempt to create an entire hidden warrior class capable of bringing Earth’s population back down to a more… manageable… level.” Her smile bordered on provocative. “Not all of us, however, look exactly alike.”
Durgon’s sharp-edged smile could have frozen even the most confident soul. “Members of my line were used to infiltrate Russia,” he informed Gyilto proudly. “Some of my brothers are in other European and Asian nations as well, but my mission has been to place top level operatives in Moscow and other key Soviet cities. Although my personal skills are primarily of a medical nature, the training of all subsequent clones from my line has involved technology, particularly the covert infiltration of computer hardware and software.”
A warm feeling of confidence surged through Gyilto and he pointed at Hobak. “Then your… line… must have been used to infiltrate China,” he guessed with perceived understanding. “The Himalayas lie just north of here.”
“Not simply China, my good King,” chuckled an amused Hobak in response. “India and Pakistan as well.”
“Clones, you see, can be anything we want them to be,” continued Valiana informatively. “We had no need to speed along the maturation process in the way others have tried. Our soldiers of the Brotherhood were grown, enhanced and educated in our methodologies beginning from the day they were born.” She turned her head sharply and sent her dark hair flying. “My own line has been placed undercover primarily in the Western nations, particularly since the men there are much more susceptible to my… charms.” She smiled provocatively at him and Gyilto felt a chill of fear run down his spine as he thought suddenly of all the enemy undercover operatives who had entered his country over the years, only to promptly vanish without a trace.
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