The Chosen Race (Space Empires Book 2)

by Caleb Selby

  Darion was concentrating on the left flank when out of the corner of his right eye, he noticed a Krohn that seemed different than the rest. It leapt higher and faster then the others and seemed to be dodging the rounds shot at him with unnaturally ability.

  “Unmentionable,” he said to himself in a daze, the significance of the new threat taking a moment to sink in. “Unmentionable!” he then screamed as the danger became manifest. He fumbled for his adapter ring equipped pistol. “Unmentionable! Bring him down, Reesa! Bring him down!”

  Reesa let go of the heavier weapon and drew her adapter-modified pistol from her leg holster and fired one shot. A stream of ultra white light nicked the Unmentionable in the shoulder. It was enough. The creature went flying, face first, into the sand covered street. As it fell the beast changed from the Krohn foot soldier into the dark, tentacle ridden Unmentionable.

  Krohns nearest the fallen Unmentionable slowed their charge at the platform and examined the anomalous site. Soon others stopped, drawn to the bizarre spectacle in their midst. Shortly, they began to circle the wounded Unmentionable, sniffing and studying it with great curiosity. When it was apparent the creature posed no immediate threat, an adventurous Krohn took a nip at one of the tentacles. The Unmentionable wailed out in agony but did not have the strength to defend himself or flee. The ripped Unmentionable flesh released a scent of death into the air, instantly causing a feeding frenzy amongst the other nearby Krohns. More and more of the reptiles turned from their original attack and began to feed on the beast, ripping mouthfuls of the rubbery flesh from the body and dragging them away until the creature was utterly consumed.

  “We’re free!” someone yelled from the platform where he had been working on the chains.

  “Take us down! Take us down!” ordered Reesa as she noticed tremendously bright laser rounds tearing through the sky toward them. “The Krohn war ships have zeroed in on our location! We need to go! Now!”

  The platform began to descend, and not soon enough for anyone onboard. The large elevator-like contraption slowly lowered while the armored access doors closed just as the orbiting ships weapon’s fire reached them.

  The heavy “thud-thud” on the ceiling caused them all to hold their breath for a few moments until it was apparent that the heavy lasers could not penetrate the reinforced doors above.

  Down, down, down the platform descended slowly. Other than the slow, continual cranking of chains and gears, the ride down was very quiet. Most of the occupants were catching their breath and examining their weapons, knowing there was still more to come in the following hours. Darion sat next to the fallen volunteer, a hand on his shoulder, all the way. It was a reflective decent for all. The platform was nearly to the bottom when Darion finally broke the silence.

  “What was his name?” he asked looking at the dead man’s face.

  “Kakin,” answered Brion glumly.

  Darion nodded. “Did he have a family?” he asked a minute later.

  Brion looked at Regen who shrugged. “Don’t know. Just met him yesterday.”

  Darion looked at the dead man sorrowfully, knowing full well that he had died so that Darion could live. He marveled at how the death of someone he didn’t know was affecting him. A week earlier he wouldn’t have cared one way or another if someone had died saving him. How he had changed. How he had grown in only a few short days.

  Seeing Darion in distress, Reesa reached an oil stained hand toward him. Darion looked at the hand and then at Reesa, his eyes saying more than he could if he tried. He took the hand graciously and held it tight the rest of the way down.

  As the massive elevator reached the bottom of the shaft the small group disembarked from the open platform. Darion stayed behind for just a moment longer to arrange Kakin’s body in a dignified manner and cover his face with a discarded jacket. With the body cared for as best it could be under the circumstances, Darion rejoined the group and followed them into a large antechamber that fed into the main bunker network.

  After offering sincere thanks to Brion and Regen, Reesa and Darion parted ways, heading toward Jabel’s hiding place deeper in the bunker network. Along the way, Reesa filled Darion in on the encounter with Trivis and the unexpected and uneasy alliance they had been forced into in order to stop President Defuria from attaining unlimited power.

  Darion was irate upon hearing the news of the partnership with Trivis but after Reesa stressed their lack of options and Trivis’ gesture of goodwill, he gradually calmed down, although he was still very uncomfortable with the idea. Trivis had, after all, manipulated Darion to the point of making him nothing more than a pawn in their scheme to weaken the Federation and prepare it for invasion.

  The two were just crossing into the western edge of the bunker network when a strange sight from a divergent passageway caught their gaze. Without a word spoken between them, they each ducked into the contorted shadows of the tunnel walls and watched as a long procession of sweaty, grungy looking engineers, mechanics, and craftsman marched passed, each toting various building materials of a technical nature. Coolant coils, air circulatory components, fuel couplers, heat shield panels and oddly, what looked to be prefabricated cockpit seats and harnesses. Accompanying the reluctant workers was a host of Sentinels who seemed to prod the men on against their will.

  “Something doesn’t look right here,” commented Darion.

  “Ya think?” retorted Reesa as she got up from her hiding place.

  “Where are you going?” Darion exclaimed as Reesa took a stealthy step toward the procession. “We need to get to Jabel!”

  “This looks too important to pass up!” she replied and followed after the group.

  Darion rolled his eyes and followed after her, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings and a hand on his adapted lydeg.

  They followed the procession of disinclined workers from a reasonable distance until the passageway deviated abruptly and turned off into a makeshift tunnel that was shorter and narrower than the normal passages that comprised the bunker network. Temporary lights dangled precariously from the stone-cut ceiling, in contrast to the installed light panels that adorned the finished passages in the primary network.

  As they continued to walk, Darion studied the odd tunnel and reasoned that it had been dug by hand, a theory confirmed moments later when they spotted dozens of shovels, pickaxes, hydro-hammers and laser-cutters lined up against one side of the makeshift wall. Beside the tools lay several dead men haphazardly piled on one another, their faces distorted and their bodies dried to a crisp, a horrific and pitiful sight.

  “Unmentionables,” Darion said under his breath as he walked past the gruesome sight.

  The rogue tunnel came to an abrupt and unceremonious end, spilling into a very large, circular room spanning many levels both up and down.

  Darion and Reesa stole into a dark corner of the tunnel just outside the brightly lit room and took in the spectacle before them.

  Unlike the crude tunnel that had lead them there, the room in front of them was finished properly with graded metal flooring and cast hand railings that ran in concentric circles around the opened middle. Circumscribed by the room and hand railings was a large cylindrical shape painted a striking crimson red. “CS17” was painted in large white figures vertically on the cylinder right above a sharp, pointed fin.

  “Clear Skies,” Darion whispered as he began to realize exactly where they were.

  “A missile?” Reesa exclaimed, her eyes flashing. “We’re in a missile silo?”

  Darion nodded, himself shocked and curious as to why someone had tunneled into the silo from the bunker network. As he studied the goings-on, a theory began to form in his mind.

  One side of the missile had been opened up, out of which the workers went to and fro with their loads of materials. Several men with masks and welding torches dangled from strong chords high above, working on the exter
ior around the opening. Another group of workers hoisted the piloting chairs they had seen earlier, up and into the hollowed out missile. Others still fiddled at open panels at various points along the fuselage, occasionally pulling out components and seemingly installing new ones. The work was carried out with near feverish intensity but eerily silent other than the use of required tools.

  “What are they doing?” asked Reesa in bewilderment.

  “I think they are turning that missile into some sort of space craft,” answered Darion.

  Reesa was about to ask another question but stopped short when she saw an imposing figure come from behind the missile and look on at the work admirably.

  “President Defuria,” she said with contempt, pulling out her adapted weapon.

  “Take it easy,” Darion whispered, taking hold of Reesa’s arm. “There are too many Sentinels in there. We’ll never be able to handle them all.”

  She reluctantly nodded and replaced the weapon but kept the holster strap unlatched.

  “We need to tell Jabel about this,” Reesa declared.

  Darion nodded and was just crouching to his feet when he noticed it. A large metallic sphere was being lowered from a makeshift crane and pulley system high above the missile. As the sphere lowered, the workers began to get uneasy and some even tried to take steps away but were stopped by the Sentinels and retuned their tasks.

  “Its the warhead,” whispered Darion. “They must be disarming it.”

  “We gotta go!” insisted Reesa, tugging on Darion’s arm as she stood up. “Jabel needs to know about this!”

  Darion nodded and stood to his feet. He was just turning to follow Reesa when his footing slipped. The pile of rocks and dirt they were hiding behind shifted slightly, a few small pebbles dislodging themselves and tumbling down into the silo. The noise they made as they rolled onto the graded metal floor seemed deafening. Instantly the Sentinels looked up and spotted the silhouettes of Darion and Reesa against the tunnel entrance.

  Darion and Reesa immediately clamored to climb up and into the tunnel, drawing their weapons as they did. The Sentinels had already turned to begin pursuit when a loud, sinister laugh began to echo through the silo and resonate deep into the tunnel. Darion glanced over his shoulder and spotted the laughter’s source. President Defuria was standing on a scaffold to one side of the missile watching the spectacle unfold, his eyes flashing large and wildly with great amusement. “You can run General but where can you hide?” he then called out. “I see everything!”

  They had just entered the main tunnel and were running as fast as they could when they heard the Sentinels come up after them. Without hesitation, Darion and Reesa both turned and fired single shots from their adapted weapons. The bright weapon’s fire enveloped the three nearest Sentinels, shaking them of their Namuh forms and flashing their true Unmentionables shapes before relegating them to dust.

  The dispatch of three of their number caused the others to pause their pursuit and even prompted several to duck back into the silo for safety. Still others brandished weapons of their own and offered several shots at Reesa and Darion who didn’t stay and fight. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them until they ran out of the makeshift tunnel and back into the proper bunker passageway. Once there, they each fired several more blinding shots down the tunnel in a desperate attempt to create a buffer before turning and running again.

  Reesa led the way through the ever-winding passageways. More than once they were forced to crawl through mounds of sand, which had spilled, into the shafts resulting from cracked ceilings and failing trusses, which had sustained a pounding from Krohn warship bombardment. They managed to climb, crawl or push themselves through all the obstacles and unforeseen impediments until they emerged into a grand, high domed control room. Unlike the dreary chambers and passageways they had already traversed, this room was magnificently bright, dry and warm. The main dome structure was reinforced with alloy infused buttresses that added a warship’s armor-like resistance to bombardment and the relentless strain of the Krohn incursion above and within the network.

  The room had the general appearance of a bridge on one of the fleet’s capital ships. Three levels comprised the room with small railings lining the upper two decks. Operating stations, monitors and scanners were scattered everywhere. In the center of the sprawling complex was a raised platform on which stood a rickety old table in the center with three small chairs about it.

  Sitting at the table was a lone, elderly man. He was hunched over a large chart draped over the surface like a tablecloth. Other charts, graphs, papers and manuscripts were scattered on and around the table. He seemed not to notice the presence of his new company as he continually studied the chart, at times jotting down figures in the margins. His face bore the unmistakable appearance of genius while his eyes shimmered with an unassuming kindness. His skin was pale white and he wore a pair of outdated optical adjusters on the very edge of his pointed nose, so close to the tip, that they could easily fall off if he lowered his head much more. He had a long grey beard that lay partly on the table and partly down his chest. Occasionally, he would have to push it out of the way in order to see something on his chart.

  “Professor!” Reesa spoke up.

  The elderly man looked up, startled and then smiled warmly. “Oh, Reesa, my dear!” he said still smiling, holding his chest as if to steady his heart. “I was afraid you were...well lets not speak of them right now. We’ll have plenty of time for them by and by.”

  Reesa nodded and smiled. “And this…” she started to say.

  “General Darion,” said Jabel solemnly, standing to his feet in respect. He held out a wrinkled hand which Darion took hold of firmly. “So much has been risked and indeed lost, to get you here, General,” he said looking deep into Darion’s eyes. “Never forget what your friends have done for you. Never!” he said and then swallowed hard as if preventing tears.

  “I won’t,” Darion said sincerely, all the while nodding. “I’m...I’m sorry for not listening sooner.”

  “Kebbs wasn’t perfect, Darion. He had problems just as all created beings do. But he was a good man, one of the best,” remarked Jabel as he slowly released Darion’s hand.

  “He was...my friend,” added Darion.

  Jabel nodded. “Indeed he was. Even when you did not know it, even when he did not want it, he was, and forever will be, your friend.”

  “He has the Clear Skies program,” interjected Reesa.

  Jabel’s eyebrows raised and he adjusted his glasses. “I didn’t doubt it for a moment,” he said and reached toward Darion.

  Darion reached into his pocket, wrapped his fingers around the small device and slowly pulled it out and handed it to Jabel. He didn’t know why he was reluctant to release it. Perhaps it was due to the implications of what the program was going to do. Perhaps it was owed to the fact that he no longer trusted anyone. Maybe it was because of the all the effort and sacrifice that had been expended to get it. Regardless of the reasons, as the device with the all important program and computer coding passed from his fingers to Jabel’s wrinkled old hands, Darion suddenly felt a calm come over him like he had not known in recent times. A feeling of pride and satisfaction swept over him and he felt momentarily content….only momentarily.

  Jabel held the device close to himself for a moment and then held it out for all to admire. A tear may have been in his eyes as he looked upon it but no one was sure. “It all comes down to this,” he said, looking thoughtfully at the small chrome device in his hand.

  “Defuria is building a ship!” announced Reesa. “He’s converting one of the Clear Skies missiles.”

  Jabel nodded thoughtfully, processing the new information given to him. “I wondered how he would get there,” he finally said. “I assumed he had a ship but a missile would be fast enough to get him past the Krohn fleet without much fuss.”

  “Get h
im where?” asked Darion.

  “Why...the moon of course,” replied Jabel with an air of mystery in his voice.

  CHAPTER 15

  Home Again

  “Coming into visual range now,” Tarkin spoke up as the Idok sped toward the planet in tight formation with the rest of the Sixth Fleet.

  “On screen,” ordered Commodore Kesler, as he walked to his command chair.

  Namuh Prime, the arid, yet strangely beautiful planet came to life on the main screen. The deep blue of her small salty oceans, the expansive dessert wastelands covering the majority of her surface, and the few small emerald patches of life made the command crew long to be there, long to be home. But the familiar sights of the home world were marred beyond reconciliation by the dark specs between them and their world.

  Kesler leaned forward in his chair, glaring at the spots critically. “Tighten up the view on grid sector thirty-eight,” he ordered.

  The dark shapes on the screen came into focus; Krohn capital ships! What a horrid sight!

  “I want a full report!” ordered Kesler.

  “We just received an analysis report from the Iovara,” replied Tarkin. “They are reporting the electromagnetic signatures of fourteen Krohn capital ships and as yet an undetermined number of fighters and other support craft.”

  Kesler sat back in his chair. “Are the Sion incinerator weapons on line?”

  “Aye, Sir!” a tactical officer answered promptly. “Weapons are armed and ready to fire.”

  “And the Sion transmitters?” inquired Kesler.

  Tarkin nodded. “If the Unmentionables are listening, they should be hearing over a hundred cloaked Sion warships chattering back and forth right now.”

  Kesler nodded, content with their status at the moment.

  “We just received confirmation on battle plans from the Iovara,” the communication officer voiced up.

  “What’s the word?” asked Kesler, turning in his chair to face the officer.

  “We received two separate contingency plans sir,” the officer answered. “One with the Clear Skies helping us and one without.”