Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles)

by James Jackson

  Some people, feeling that everything is over, open their doors. They die horribly painful deaths as the Atlan gas does its work. Other facilities quickly run out of food and water, others run out of fresh air, forcing these people to face similar fates.

  Many of the scientific facilities are well stocked; they send people out in Hazmat suits to examine their surroundings. The gas easily eats away at these suits, causing those inside them to succumb quickly.

  Many of the advanced facilities have video equipment. The images received create as much despair to the viewers, as not knowing does to others. Akardy and his charge are in such a facility, and for the time being, are still alive.

  Meanwhile, far out in space, a single ship approaches cautiously. Prime Sharz stares at the distant image of Earth, and mutters, “I must be sure the Atlans have truly left.”

  ###

  Section Eleven: VOKNOR DIARIES

  Novel

  Preface

  ‘Voknor Diaries’ follows the Gamin on their plight of survival. Regent Voknor’s path crosses humanity’s time and again, first as a master, then as friend. Space is not safe, as all races painfully discover. Banding together may save them, but is this a temporary safety or something long lasting? And what about Earth? Are there survivors? Will humanity be able to return, or will that be denied to them as well?

  Within the Voknor Diaries, answers are revealed to many of these compelling questions. But as usual, the more we discover, the less we know, as once again events beyond everyone’s control dictate the future of the fledgling alliance.

  “It is not the strongest of the species that survives, not the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.” - Charles Darwin

  “At such moments, you realize that you and the other are, in fact, one. It’s a big realization. Survival is the second law of life. The first is that we are all one.” - Joseph Campbell

  “When an Empire fears for its survival, its prime has passed.” - Martin Dansky

  Welcome to ‘Voknor Diaries’, book five of the ‘Terran Chronicles Universe’.

  Introduction

  The space carrier finally arrives at its destination. The system ahead contains many planets; only one of them is the target of their endeavors. Dozens of small assault craft soar from the spacecraft’s hangar decks, then fly toward the planet below. As a swarm, the craft break through the cloud-covered skies. To their surprise the civilization below seems primitive, hardly one worthy of their efforts. Without hesitation, they open fire. Powerful energy beams strike at buildings that reach into the skies. Stone, metal, and glass are no match for the energies unleashed upon them. The mighty spacecraft itself fires downward, adding its impressive arsenal to the attack while also destroying the few satellites which orbit this world.

  The attackers roam the planet, devastating city after city with total impunity. The defenders launch crude projectiles which are easily dodged by the agile craft, or deflected by their strong defensive shields. Either through sheer luck, or tenacity, a few of the smaller craft do fall victim to the desperate barrage that rises to meet them. Finally, the last city falls, its once proud skyscrapers in ruins. The defensive fire diminishes; then ceases all together as pockets of resistance are eliminated. The industrial areas spew forth deadly cocktails of gas and liquid in the wake of the assault, contaminating the waterways, the soil, and the air. The attacking craft spare nothing from their ferocity, even the smallest of towns is reduced to rubble.

  A few short hours are all it takes to turn a budding civilization from one which was proud of its technological marvels, to one where its survivors huddle by campfires. With virtually the entire planet’s infrastructure in tatters, and billions dead, the few that remain look to the skies with bewilderment. They wonder what they did to deserve the wrath that has befallen them.

  The survivors band together and begin talking and planning, ever fearful of the skies. The few craft that were brought down contain a dazzling array of technology, much of which is incomprehensible. Most civilizations would not recover from such destruction, but these beings are not like most civilizations, they are Gamin.

  A boon to the survivors is the discovery of a downed fighter, with its pilot still alive. The strange looking alien wears a shiny bodysuit, and although he puts up a brave fight, is eventually captured. The being identifies himself as an Atlan, and ultimately shares his knowledge in exchange for his life. His revealing that the Gamin and Atlans have been at war for thousands of years is perplexing to these Gamin, as this is the first time they have met another intelligent race.

  The surviving Gamin leave the surface of the world as it is, and build downward. Fortunately, as high as the skyscrapers extended upward, city structures extended downward even farther. Warring clans band together for the first time in history, old rivalries are set aside. They become one unified race. Thus, an empire is born with a single-minded goal, survival!

  The Gamin are a long-lived race, with the average life expectancy being six thousand cycles. Thus, the Gamin have two distinct advantages over most other species. First, they are a patient race, one that understands the idea of a long-term plan. Secondly, they construct things to withstand the test of time. Gamin architecture, and technology is built to last.

  Exodus

  Almost six thousand years pass before the Gamin are ready to reveal to the galaxy that not only do they live, but they have constructed a fleet, the likes of which has never been seen. The planet above their civilization has recovered from the rigors of the Atlan attack, and has turned into a lush paradise. A few areas still show signs of the ancient cities, but any sign of the metropolis below is carefully concealed. Factories pour their exhaust into volcanoes, while fresh air is dawn from carefully concealed grates, many of which are hidden deep inside massive caves.

  Finally, the day arrives that the Gamin have been waiting for. Emperor Dosec stands on a raised dais inside an immense underground chamber and runs his gaze over the vast gathering of clans. Thousands fill the chamber, from Regents and their officers, to Den Mothers, and everyone in between who were invited to attend.

  Dosec begins, his voice loud, firm, and decisive, “The time is upon us to leave our home world; we will never be trapped on a planet again, never risk annihilation again!”

  The chamber erupts with a roar of support and excitement; the noise is deafening and travels along the numerous corridors and passageways, reaching the ears of those not in attendance; those not politically influential enough to gain admittance.

  The Emperor lifts his hand, and waits for the great throng to quiet, before he continues. “Each Regent’s clan is assigned a sector of space in which to survive, in any way they see fit. The Archons will monitor your deeds, and continue to function as advisors to the clans.” He grins widely, exposing his sharp teeth as he states, “They will keep me informed of your successes and failures.”

  The gathering roars once more with many stomping their feet, adding a great reverberance to the chamber. Emperor Dosec realizes that he will be unable to still the crowd, so instead joins them with a mighty roar. Incredibly, the noise in the chamber increases in volume and intensity.

  Dosec raises his left hand in the air, forms a fist, and with his words lost to the din, shouts, “We will survive!” He grins once more, then leaves under the escort of his personal guard.

  Hundreds of clans, each under the rule of a Regent, order their fleets to launch. Thus, begins Exodus Day. All over the planet, enormous caverns open, revealing fleets of city-sized spacecraft. The emperor’s craft is by far the largest, and carries the Gamin archives of art and antiquities.

  On this single day, virtually the entire population leaves their home world, and heads out into the depths of space. A few Gamin remain, those who do not believe the ancient attackers will come back, these are mostly the young. The vast majority of those who were alive during the Atlan attack, and they are few in number, do not stay; they vividly recall the hor
rors of the day.

  During the exodus, the Gamin fleets do not discover any Atlan forces, nor do they search for any. Each clan fans out and away from their home world, with the Emperor’s forces heavily encapsulated by many clans. The Regents have free reign to do as they wish, survival is the only key. Many traditions are abandoned along with the home world.

  The years pass slowly, with so few encounters with the Atlans, many Gamin begin to doubt the reports of this powerful race hell bent on their destruction. Many of the Emperor’s Archons advise him not to look for those that nearly wiped them out. A few Primes are considered radical when they push an agenda to seek out the Atlans, either for peace, or wage war. Whatever the case may be, these Gamin do not want to sit and wait for the Atlans to return, they wish to take the initiative. Debates rage on for years, but these extremists acquiesce to the Emperor, and obey his wishes.

  The years roll by; decades turning into centuries, then, inexplicably, an Atlan task force arrives at the abandoned Gamin home world. They do not attack, but instead, place a series of satellites in orbit, then leave. These satellites simply monitor the planet, no more, no less.

  The Emperor orders all fleets to avoid their home world, so as not to alert the Atlans of their existence. This command is no sooner issued, than the first Atlan task force attacks one of the clans. This begins a time when skirmishes occur between various Gamin fleets and Atlan forces.

  These clashes continue for hundreds of years, with no real victor on either side. Then one fateful day, a small group at Atlans somehow manage to infiltrate Emperor Dosec’s craft, and while a full session of Archons are meeting, they activate their suicide bombs. Archon Yoolon survives, and as Gamin law states that only an Archon can vie for the position of Emperor, he assumes the position unchallenged. He does not reinstate the Archons, and rules the Regents directly.

  The Atlan forces remain unchanged for almost a thousand years, then seemingly overnight, their spacecraft are stronger, and suddenly, they outclass the Gamin fleets they face.

  The Gamin Emperor issues more orders, and the Gamin fleets retreat farther and farther away from their home world, spreading more apart as they do so. Encounters with the Atlans are sporadic for the next two thousand years; Gamin craft begin adding armor plating, which in turn, effects their performance and engine efficiency. These measures return the status quo, for the most part, but at each encounter, it becomes clearer and clearer that even this initiative is not enough.

  Some three thousand years after the exodus, a new class of Atlan spacecraft begin to lead attacks. These space-carriers become so effective in their offensive, that soon they are the only craft engaged in battle. All other types of Atlan spacecraft seem to have been retired from duty. Gamin fleets begin to take heavy losses, and once more the Gamin are on the run.

  The Emperor continues to order his Regents’ fleets to travel farther and farther away from their home world, and to avoid engagements with the enemy. His rationale that running equals survival, continues to take its toll. Many of the weaker clans are completely wiped out during these difficult times.

  It is during this time that one Gamin hatches, one who will shape the future of the Empire like no other before.

  Chapter One - Hatchery

  He awakes hazily and begins to take in his murky surroundings. It is dark, wet, and cramped. The confines of his resting place constrict his movements. His weak muscles involuntarily twitch, while his heart begins to beat stronger. Small boney projections on his forearms scrape the sides of his prison as he begins to move around.

  CRACK!

  The sound startles him, frantically he thrashes about, his lungs suddenly becoming aware of the need for air. A dim light shines in from a fissure over his head. Pushing as hard as he can with his feeble legs, he slides the covering out of the way.

  Strange noises assault his ears. Curiosity overwhelms him, so he stands and gazes at his blurry surroundings through his goo caked yellow eyes. Shaking his head, the thick gel-like stuff slops around. Wiping his eyes clean with the back of his scaly, yet still soft hand, allows him to see much better.

  While the three claws on each hand hang on to the jagged top of his waking place, he studies this new world. He quickly spins around at the sound of wet footsteps coming from behind him. His eyes narrow, he growls and bares his tiny teeth at the stranger. The hatchling hisses back, then slowly retreats. Dozens of creatures, just like him, are breaking from their shells, hatching. Many begin to fight each other, the weakest quickly succumbing to the stronger, as is nature’s way. High up on the distant ceiling, one red light blinks, then another.

  Elsewhere, on the massive flagship of this fleet, a subordinate turns to his leader and says, “Regent, your son has hatched.”

  Regent Xasturz leans forward in his command chair, his old teeth showing in a devilish grin, “We shall see if he has what it takes to survive the fleet’s largest hatchery.”

  The days pass quickly for the hatchlings, who remain ever vigilant. Competition for food, the remnants of the eggs, is fierce. The strongest and fittest dominate, as is the way of the wild. Those too weak to survive become food for the cannibalistic new born. This phase lasts for a few days, just long enough to wean out those too weak to survive the rigors of Gamin life.

  The Den Mothers take the now knee high survivors to the nesting area, and then begin the long and arduous task of cleaning and preparing the hatchery for the next batch of eggs. Once, many years ago on their home world, Gamin women were equals in society and were able to lay one or two eggs each cycle, but no longer. Now, the fertility rates are so low, that females often go five cycles before laying one egg, and many remain infertile.

  Thus, when the time comes, the surviving hatchlings are taken and cared for, even the injured. But, the Den Mothers are not wasteful in their efforts. Any hatchling with permanent disabilities, or who will take more from society than they can offer, is euthanized. Those who survive this intense scrutiny are moved to the training levels. This is an exciting time for the fleet, and sees new younglings filling the decks.

  The younglings spend ten cycles with the Den Mothers, and are taught many things, especially patience. What were once savage and aggressive hatchlings, become well-educated and civilized, younglings. During these years, the younglings slowly grow to triple and, in some case, quadruple their size, coming up to chest high with the Den Mothers, who themselves are only marginally shorter than the average male.

  There remains one final test before these younglings can be accepted as members of Gamin society. The Den Mothers strive to ensure that all younglings have the skills they will need to complete the task ahead.

  Chapter Two - The Trial

  Regent Xasturz stares down at the seventeen young Gamin before him with an air of superiority. He dominates over them, and smiles devilishly as they crane their necks to look upward as instructed.

  The feared Regent issues his standard speech, “Those of you who survive the trial will earn the right to join the fleet, and to take on a name of your choosing. Those of you who die, do so unnamed, and shall not be remembered. This is the way it has been for countless generations, and so it shall continue to be.”

  The younglings have been taught well by the Den Mothers, and respectfully remain quiet. Xasturz stops before his son, points a claw at him, and states, “You will have to prove yourself more than the others if you wish to follow my path!”

  The youngling stares up fearfully, he knows that his father is the Regent, but today is the first day that they have met.

  The Regent turns to a subordinate and orders, “Take the fleet to the Oglan system. While these younglings experience their trial in the planet’s wilderness, we shall continue with the experiments.”

  “Yes Regent!” Replies the subordinate, who then strides away purposefully.

  Planet Oglan

  The Regent’s son sits patiently with the other sixteen younglings on the shuttle as they fly to the planet below. Strong winds bu
ffet the craft, shaking those on board, adding to their fear and building up their adrenaline.

  The craft lands, and disembarks one naked youngling. Like the others, he has no clothing, food, tools, or weapons. Over and over, the craft takes off, flies to a remote location, lands, and then leaves another of them behind. All in all, six females and eleven males disembark. It takes much of the morning to transport all of them, with the Regent’s son being the last one to leave.

  As the young Gamin steps from the shuttle, he hears the pilots talking about him. One of them says, “This one is getting the royal treatment! This area is tame compared to the others!”

  A pilot strides out and places a hand on the youngling’s shoulder as he replies, “Don’t be so sure, this area is inhabited by the indigenous, and they don’t like us much!” The pilot stares into the youngling’s eyes, as if suggesting something, but the youngling fails to comprehend the hidden message.

  “Would you trust us?” Comes the reply from inside, quickly followed by, “We’ve flattened many of their cities, stripped their planet of minerals, and experimented on them to make servitor bodysuits.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust us either.” States the pilot. Then as he pats the youngling’s shoulder once more, adds, “Take care youngling! See you in ten rotations.”

  The youngling steps onto the planet’s grassland and watches as the shuttle departs. He takes in his surroundings as his feet feel something other than metallic deck plates for the first time in his life. Taking in a deep breath, he is astounded by the scent, it is so different from the ship. He had not known what to expect, and is further surprised when he feels a cool breeze blowing against his scales. The sun is high in the sky, and casts its warmth across the landscape, compensating for the mild chill from the steady breeze. The meadow he is in is one of many, with rolling hills that spill into a rocky outcropping in the distance. Turning around, he spots tendrils of smoke in the distance, indicating a village. Farther away are signs of a once magnificent city, one that has been reduced to mostly rubble. Here and there, thickets of trees dot the landscape.