He re-opens the communications to the Terran’s bridge, and states, “Evacuate while you can, humans.”
Addressing Frazik, Voknor states, “Open the ramp, and shut sections down as the humans leave. Set the engines to overload’ If we lose control of the ship, then they shall not have it either!”
Frazik complies, then a short while later happily reports, “I am reading no life signs. Closing the ramp and resetting the power grid.”
Voknor grins as he recalls the way the world’s leaders acted. All pompous and arrogant, and decides to remind them who controls the spacecraft. He taps his console, opening a channel to the satellite grid that orbits Earth, and states, “I am Regent Voknor of the Gamin, I will speak with George, NOW!”
Skylow turns and with a wide smile says, “I think you have got their attention.”
With a chuckle, Regent Voknor says, “I want Sharz on the bridge; halt the fleet, and inform him to come here. I am curious to see what Sharz does.”
Sharz has barely set foot on the bridge, when George’s voice resonates from the speakers, “Regent Voknor, are you there?”
George’s image appears on the main view; it is slightly distorted, but soon improves, to show a dark room, with many military personal.
Voknor stares at George, then states bluntly, “You are surrounded by military once again, George.”
George glances at the soldiers, shrugs, then smiles as he says, “Thank you for helping us get home Regent Voknor, we are forever in your debt.” He bows slightly, then waits.
Voknor replies solemnly, “Ah yes,” then he turns his head to one side. He points to Sharz and says, “This is your problem, you fix it.”
George smiles broadly when he recognizes his old friend, “Sharz!” he exclaims, “How the heck are you?”
Sharz grins widely, his sharp teeth unintentionally showing in the process. He glances to Regent Voknor, then upon receiving a nod, says, “George, your people look very similar to our mortal foes, the Atlans, with whom we have been at war for thousands of years.”
George nods as he replies, “We found one of your damaged ships. It had been abandoned thousands of years ago.”
Sharz nods back as he continues, “Good, then you understand our unwillingness to let your planet’s military have any control over one of our spacecraft.” He pauses, glances at Regent Voknor again, then continues, “George, the Atlans have escalated their attacks, as they do just before their religious clerics reveal each prophecy. The last time they did this, we were goaded into attacking their home world. We are still reeling from the losses of that day. You see, each Atlan Prophecy is actually information regarding some new technology. Where they are getting these amazing advances from is unknown, nor is it known why they have to wait a thousand years between each prophecy.” He glances away.
George feels a chill run up his back as he asks, “What’s wrong?”
Sharz stares intently at George, as he responds, “The twelfth and last prophecy, the one that has been foretold will release the Atlans from obscurity, is soon to be revealed. George, our home world is in ruins, our culture is all but gone, and with each battle, the dead pile up. We are on a path to oblivion, and very soon the Atlans will gain yet another advantage.”
George is filled with dread, and asks, “Is there anything we can do to help?”
Sharz is surprised at the offer. He tilts his head, and states resolutely, “Yes! Stay away from the Atlans. They plan to dominate the galaxy, and with no one to stop them, they may very well succeed.”
“If we look similar, why would you help us?” George asks, baffled by Sharz and Voknor’s actions.
Before Sharz can reply, Voknor’s voice interjects, “Because it is time.”
George frowns at the cryptic answer, and remains quiet as he wonders what that means.
Sharz then states, “The ship is yours George, you will have complete control over who is on board.”
Regent Voknor steps closer to the screen, and adds with great conviction, “If your military won’t listen, then I shall destroy the ship, the construction dock we left on your planet, and re-activate the satellite defense systems. Do I make myself clear?”
George nods as he replies, “Yes Regent.”
Voknor sneers at the group of military men in the room, and says, “But, do they understand?”
George looks around the room, smiles, then says, “You can be rather convincing Regent!”
Regent Voknor suddenly realizes what he must do, and states, “Your status is Prime, something never done before in our history. The ship will only respond to your voice, crew it as you see fit.”
George swallows hard, as he reels from the enormity of Voknor’s statement, “Why me Regent? I do not seek this responsibility, nor do I crave power.”
Voknor folds his arms and laughs as he explains, “George,” he shakes his head, “Gamin warriors spend years training, simply in the hope that they may become a Prime. I have never heard of anyone not wanting the honor.” He glances to Skylow, then smiles.
George stammers, “I meant no offense, Regent.”
He stares at George and states, “Then honor my clan, rally your crew, and explore the stars.”
Cutting the communication, Voknor grins and says, “Now, we will see what the military does!” He then adds, “Frazik, be prepared to take action!”
Skylow shakes his head as they all hear the American President state, “I will not let you...”
Frazik grins, “I cut their power!” He states, then adds, “I hope you approve.”
Voknor leans back and chuckles as he asks, “To that arrogant human’s residence?”
“To his entire continent!” Frazik replies with a wide grin.
Regent Voknor roars in laughter as he imagines the chaos they have just caused. It takes a few moments, but finally Frazik turns and reports, “I have just received a message that the humans will comply, fully, with our requirement.”
Frazik turns to Voknor, as he asks, “Shall I enable all features, at George’s command?”
“Yes!” Voknor replies, then leans back in his chair and relaxes.
Skylow hesitantly asks, “Regent, I do not object, but I am curious as to why we’re helping them?
Voknor softly replies, “I would rather not have another enemy. Besides, the way things are going, we may need a safe repair facility, and I can think of none better suited.”
Skylow nods in agreement, then asks, “Your orders? Regent.”
“Plot three to our assigned area. I would have us in position, and ready to assist our fellow clans.”
Voknor’s fleet performs many stops along the way, taking a wide circular route, in their efforts to avoid the Atlans. They do not encounter any, nor hear of other clans facing off against a Warmonger.
Skylow reviews his data one more time, then happily reports, “The humans have followed your recommendation, and are establishing a colony on the fringes of the galaxy.”
Regent Voknor relaxes back in his chair as he replies, “Good. Hopefully they stay out of harm’s way.”
Skylow frowns as he reviews the Terran’s systems, then hesitantly comments, “If anyone scans their primitive computers, they will know everything about them; their travel history, their home world, and the colony.”
Voknor shakes his head and sighs as he replies, “Do what you can to protect their data, especially information pertaining to their colony world. Between the Atlans and the Effen Raiders, it would be a race to see which one raids that world first.”
“I moved all colony data to our systems, which can now only be accessed from a ship’s console, or us.” Skylow reports, proud of his ingenuity.
The fleet continues its trek back to their assigned region of space, stopping at suitable worlds to restock their raw materials, and their meat supplies.
Battle Royale
Frazik turns as Regent Voknor strides onto the bridge, and reports, “We have arrived inside our assigned region, and have begun
updating our data on the inhabited worlds.”
“Excellent!” Voknor replies as he sits in his command chair.
Frazik stares at his console, then with a tingle of surprise, adds, “It also looks like our old friends, the Kord, have been busy. I am detecting a space station, slightly outside our zone, and it’s massive.”
“Interesting,” Voknor replies, then mumbles, “I wonder why they built another station? I thought they had concluded their research in this area.”
Skylow shrugs, and then not realizing that Voknor’s comment was more to himself than others, offers, “Perhaps they know we would help?”
“Indeed, we would.” Voknor replies, then says, “Monitor the station’s communications, I want to know what they’re doing.”
Frazik taps on his console, then reports, “There are a lot of transmissions, going back and forth from the Kord facility, most of which are encrypted. I have set my console to alert me when key words are used, such as attack, damage, Atlan, Raiders, and the like, but unless they send anything on an open channel, we’re probably not going to know.”
“Understood.’ Voknor replies, still perplexed by the Kord building another station.
Lilpax observes his demeanor, then shares her thoughts, “As far as the Kord are concerned, the previous station was built, used, and dismantled, many generations ago. Perhaps they have new questions, or more advanced sensor technology.”
Frazik turns as he agrees, “Not only that, this station is almost seven hundred light years away from the previous one, and it orbits a planet.”
Voknor leans back and nods as he replies, “Bandor did say they were focusing on stations that orbited worlds.
Skylow has been waiting for the right time to raise another pressing issue, and decides to mention it now. He taps his console, reviews his information one more time, and then says, “Regent, three Primes report they have younglings who are due for their trial.”
“How many?” Voknor queries.
Skylow beams happily as he replies, “Twenty-six!”
Voknor grins, then orders, “Well then, find us a world!”
Lilpax and Frazik race to see who can find a suitable world first, their fingers frantically working their consoles.
Frazik states, “I have one that is one quarter of a cycle away, and it’s tough. The inhabitants are primitive, the atmosphere is thin, and the gravity high.”
Lilpax sighs; she had reviewed that world, and dismissed it as being too easy on the younglings.
Regent Voknor enjoys the little competitions his bridge crew has from time to time; as such things hone their skills and efficiency. “Skylow, inform the fleet to make for that world, and to prepare the younglings.” He orders.
As predicted, the fleet soon arrives at a windswept desert-world, one with pockets of vegetation near small bodies of water.
Frazik scans the planet, and reports, “Less than ten percent of the world has vegetation, while another twenty percent is water. The remainder is desert-like, and yet there are life forms.”
Voknor stares at the world and shudders; he is glad he is not going; the world looks hostile. He taps his armrests, then contacts Prytec and orders, “We have a large group of younglings about to perform their trial.”
“I will make preparations!” Prytec replies, then immediately assigns his guards to shuttles, and waits.
Lilpax decides that as the planet has few surface minerals, that mining it would be inefficient, besides, all craft have an abundant supply of raw materials. Thus, with little else to do, the bridge crew observes the trial. Reviewing the planet once again, she shudders; this is not an easy world at all.
The bridge crew watches as a youngling plods forth, his hand covering his eyes from the blowing sand. Lilpax gasps as he slides into a sinkhole. The sand sucks at his body until he his neck deep. In sheer desperation, he grabs at a vine which blows past him in the howling wind, and hangs on for all his worth. It takes the youngling a long time, but he manages to use the vine, and crawl out of the sand trap. As soon as he is clear, he falls onto his back, exhausted.
Another youngling who is also unable to see due to the blowing sands, steps off a cliff edge, but luckily, is blown onto a narrow ledge. He is winded and dazed, but alive, and once the wind reduces, he climbs up, and continues onward.
Voknor shakes his head in amazement at the ingenuity of Prytec’s people. The vine was an obvious save; they all saw the shuttle land, and the pilot literally throw the vine over the hole, then entangle the other end under a bulky rock. The second save was pure genius; the youngling was blown onto the ledge by a shuttle’s thrusters.
Lilpax feels that the way the younglings are being protected, is perfect. They still have to get themselves out of danger and, in the process, are learning valuable lessons instead of dying.
Some of the Primes still object to Prytec’s interference, but even they admit their ranks refill faster than under their previous Regent, making the trade off one worth having.
Regent Voknor prepares to meet the survivors; all but one lasted the ten days, and now they wait to be picked up by shuttles. The single death bothers Voknor, not because it was avoidable, but because of the youngling’s recklessness. He is still baffled as to why the youngling dived head first, off a cliff, to land on the sand far below.
The shuttles are lifting off from the planet when Frazik bolts upright at an alert. He turns to see Regent Voknor leaving the bridge, and shouts, “The Kord are under attack!”
Voknor stops, then turns and asks, “The Kord space station?”
Frazik replays the message over the bridge speakers, “We are under attack, and need help!”
Skylow frowns, then says, “That’s a strange way to ask for help. They do not identify themselves, and seem almost frantic.”
“Contact them!” Voknor orders, then sits down.
A short fur covered being appears on the main viewer moments later; the Kord is clearly panic stricken as he begs, “The Atlans have broken their peace treaty, and attacked us! You must help!”
Voknor tilts his head as he questions, “We must?”
“We will all perish if you don’t!” Screeches the Kord.
Voknor leans forward then states, “I will not risk my fleet on a fool’s errand. I want to know the composition of the Atlan force.”
“A single small carrier arrived, and requested to dock.” Replies the Kord, “Then, the moment it got close, it launched around two hundred fighters.”
Voknor turns to his bridge crew and grins, “Time for a little payback!” He leans forward, and addressing the Kord, states, “We will assist.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” Exclaims the Kord before Voknor cuts the transmission.
Turning to his bridge crew, he orders, “Prepare the fleet for battle, Plot four to that space station.”
While the bridge crew prepares, Voknor contacts his Primes, and states, “We have an opportunity to eliminate a small Atlan Carrier, while at the same time, assisting the Kord. Remain vigilant, and do not take unnecessary risks.”
The Primes look forward to battle, especially one in which they have the advantage.
“The younglings are aboard!” Skylow reports, then says, “The fleet awaits your command, Regent.”
“Let’s get ‘em!” Voknor orders aggressively.
The fleet streaks away from the desert world. The speed at the which they are traveling quickly eats away at the distance between the planet and the space station.
Frazik frowns, then reports, “I have lost communication with the Kord.”
“Destroyed?” Voknor queries.
“Possibly.” Frazik replies, though doubt fills his voice.
“Oh no!” Exclaims Skylow as he reviews a garbled message. He listens to it three times, then as a chill runs down his spine, shouts, “It’s a trap!”
Voknor slams his communications panel, and barks, “Halt the fleet! All Primes, halt!”
Cushkull shuts down the main drive, th
en activates all forward facing thrusters in an attempt to slow them down; the flagships considerable bulk and mass carries with it a ton of momentum. He pushes the thrusters well beyond their safety tolerances, finally bringing them to a halt.
“It’s too late!” Frazik replies, “The lead vessels have engaged the Atlans.
Regent Voknor does not hesitate, and immediately orders, “All Primes, engage the enemy, prepare to retreat.”
Cushkull, who has just performed a miraculous emergency stop, now overloads the engines to get them moving again. He mutters quietly. “Move, you fat beast.”
Frazik reviews his console, then with mounting fear, states, “Two more carriers are attacking the station! Four of our vessels are heavily damaged, and attempting to retreat. The Kord just informed me that their sensors are detecting three more carriers on approach.”
Regent Voknor hesitates for a moment, then activates his communication panel, contacting all Gamin Fleets, “Regent Voknor calling for clan assistance. We are under heavy attack and unable to disengage. All will be lost without immediate relief.”
He sets the message to auto repeat, then orders, “Get us into that battle so that we may protect those retreating.”
The bridge speakers crackle, “Jukalore here! On our way, Regent!”
Hemlax’s voice almost cuts Jukalore off, “Were coming!”
An unexpected voice then fills the bridge; the human female that command’s the Earth ship, “We’re on our way, Regent.”
Voknor immediately replies, “No! Our entire fleet is being slaughtered. Two more clans are coming to assist. Besides, what can your one ship do? You will merely come to your deaths if you arrive before they do.”
She replies a moment later, “No matter the risk, we help our friends.”
Skylow points at the main viewer in stunned disbelief, then stammers, “Will you look at that!”
Three Atlan Carriers hover at different points around the early arrivals of Voknor’s fleet, their fighters effectively preventing them from escaping. The Kord space station rests in the midst of the chaos, and is monstrous, dwarfing the flagship. Many of its docking rings are scorched or venting gas, though no major structural damage is evident.
Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles) Page 176