The Exxar Chronicles: Book 01 - The Erayan

by Neal Jones

  "Go ahead," Decev said. "You can touch it."

  McKenna hesitated, then reached out and gently pressed a finger in one of the few open spots on the organ. It was definitely flesh after all, but didn't feel as spongy as she had expected. She withdrew her hand and looked at Decev. "What the hell is it?"

  The science officer was grinning like an academy graduate on shore leave. "It's definitely organic, and it's operating just as a humanoid brain would – sending and receiving signals, processing information, etcetera. But everything connected to it is technology. Somehow, the designers of this control center found a way to fuse organic properties with technological ones. There's a little brain like this one in every relay conduit in this place. And, according to our scans, this thing is capable of processing information at the same speed as a humanoid brain, a million times faster than a standard computer."

  "And all of these brains are networked throughout the cavern."

  "Exactly. So far, we’ve uncovered seventy-six. We've just now reached the ground floor, and we're assuming that there's one large, central brain somewhere down there, but we haven't found one yet."

  McKenna frowned. "You said you'd never encountered anything like this, yet how could you have effected repairs of the damaged conduits so quickly?"

  "Most of the damage was technological. But as complex as this organ is, its similarities to a humanoid brain are enough that, once we brought Doctor Burke down here, she was able to help us repair some of the less damaged ones. There were a few that we couldn't save, and we're figuring out a way to bypass those conduits, or at the very least, substitute these brains for artificial ones. But that's going to take some time. Burke has already assigned a team to analyze the brains that we couldn't save."

  McKenna nodded, satisfied with the report, and swept her gaze once more around the cavern and its cybernetic wonder. "Is that all?"

  "For now."

  "Carry on." As McKenna walked back to the PTL, her commlink beeped and she tapped it. "McKenna."

  "Lieutenant Endari. We've completed our initial survey of the planet's surface."

  "Very good, lieutenant. I'll meet you in the wardroom in one hour. Captain out."

  ( 2 )

  "We found that eighty percent of the planet's surface is covered with cities, or at least it was about seven hundred years ago, which is when we believe the inhabitants of this world were completely eradicated. Much of the planet's original vegetation has grown back, although the amount of radiation and pollution in the atmosphere has affected the growth rate." Lieutenant Endari had more to say but she paused because she could see from McKenna's expression that the captain was ready to interrupt.

  "Seven hundred years?" McKenna echoed, astonished. "I assume that's an approximate figure."

  Endari nodded and glanced at Commander Benson. The science officer leaned forward to input a new command into the holo-display, and the 3-D topographical image shifted to make way for series of data entries and percentages. "The soil samples which we analyzed during your return trip to Exxar-One support the survey team's estimate that eighty percent of the surface was once covered in cities and metropolises of one form or another. Geological core samples taken yesterday at both arctic poles tell us that this world is almost six billion years old, but a massive catastrophe occurred approximately five hundred or seven hundred years ago. It's difficult to get an exact figure because of how badly the planet's surface was scarred by the technology and industry of the civilization that once existed here, but from all the data that we've gathered so far, I think that's a fair estimate."

  "And no clear indication yet concerning the cause of the mass extinction of the humanoid inhabitants?"

  Benson shook her head. "It's safe to assume that various kinds of global conflict escalated to the point where they killed each other off. According to Burke's last report, the atmosphere is riddled with hundreds of new species of viral bacteria. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was positively giddy."

  McKenna smiled, remembering her last check-in with the CMO three hours earlier. The normally reserved and motherly doctor had been replaced by an excited and determined scientist, one that was prone to babble endlessly about the latest discovery beneath the microscope lens.

  "In a case like this," Benson continued, "it's probably a combination of the technological and biological warfare that did this species in. There's a good chance that Decev's people can uncover something from the database in the control center, but if not, it's anyone's guess."

  McKenna nodded as she mulled over the information presented thus far. "So, just to make sure I'm understanding all this correctly, you're saying that the amount of radiation and pollution in the atmosphere now is what's altering the rate of decay of the cities and other artificial structures?"

  The other two women nodded. "As well as the growth rate of new vegetation," Endari added. "If the saturation level of those two factors wasn't so high, the surface of this planet would be purely natural by now, with barely a hint that a humanoid civilization once lived here."

  "Considering what it is now, I can't wait to construct a model of what this world looked like seven hundred years ago," Benson remarked. "I'd like more data before I begin creating it, and I've assigned five more teams to the surface to gather some more detailed samples and analyses. I'll have something for you by tomorrow afternoon."

  "I'm as eager as you are to see it," McKenna replied. "Was there any indication from this survey of the existence of other control centers like the one you and Commander Decev found?"

  "Not yet. That's why I added five more teams to the two dozen that are already down there. It's logical to assume there's other such caverns, and the sooner we find them, the better chance we have of finding survivors of this holocaust. Assuming there are some."

  "Agreed. Now, what about the possibility of a connection between the technology in that control center and what we discovered in the makeup of the Haal'Chai raider?"

  "So far," Endari said, "we haven't found any connection. We still don't know the exact launch coordinates of the drones, nor have we found any similarities in the technological makeup of the cavern and what's in the raider. But, as with everything else in our investigations, all of our results thus far are preliminary."

  "All right." McKenna stood and her two officers followed suit. "Dismissed." For several minutes after they departed the wardroom, the captain stared at the holo-display and the ghastly data that it projected six inches above the table's surface. While she was looking forward to the holographic model that Benson was preparing, McKenna didn't need it to know exactly what this world looked like seven hundred years ago. Her father was a history buff, and she had seen numerous historical files and documentaries of Earth's World War III. The photographs of entire populations suffering from the effects of biological warfare had haunted her sleep, giving her vicious nightmares, and her mother had berated Scott McKenna for allowing his daughter to view such graphic material at a young age. But his love for history, especially anything to do with the military, had rubbed off on his only daughter, despite those early nightmares, and as she got older she discovered a peculiar fascination with the subject of war – its strategies, its technologies, its hallowed battlefields of past and present – it all invoked a strange passion in Kathryne. Not that she was a cold or dispassionate about the high rate of humanoid suffering which resulted from the ugliness of war. On the contrary, it reminded her of the priceless value of life, and that most conflicts were fought for good and worthy causes. As she shut off the holo-display, she wondered about the causes over which this final war had been fought, and she created a mental countdown of the hours remaining until Benson's model was complete.

  ( 3 )

  Commodore Gabriel stepped out of the PTL and walked the short distance to the entrance of the Cassandran Temple. He hesitated in front, staring up at the symbol of the Gods, wondering once more why he was here. He wasn’t feeling nearly as desperate as he was a week ago. The situati
on on Exxar-One was still far from perfect, but there’d been no new incidents in the last several days, and, after reading Captain McKenna’s latest report from Gateway Prime, Gabriel felt confident that they finally had a lead in their investigation of the Haal’Chai technology. McKenna made it clear that there was no definitive connection yet, but the commodore was desperate for anything that might resemble some good news so, until he heard otherwise, he was going to take this a good sign. Not only that, the verbal sparring and the protest demonstrations between the Church of God’s Witness and the Chrisarii religion had dropped noticeably since the departure of Isaac Blacke via a prisoner transport three days ago. There was no explanation with the transfer orders as to Blacke’s eventual fate, but with his signed confession and the evidence logged by Zar’s staff, it was a safe bet that the religious zealot would be executed following a private hearing at one of the central penal colonies.

  The commodore was also pleased by the daily status reports from the various department heads. All things considered, the station’s crew was slowly but surely coming together, finally starting to work as a team. There were less and less incident reports from Krael Zar, especially where the after-hours bar fights were concerned, and even Major Saveck had acknowledged the change with a grudging remark after the staff briefing that morning. It appeared that the stern speech, which the commodore had delivered to the public six days earlier, was actually getting through to both the military and civilian populations. A renewed sense of satisfaction and accomplishment was gradually settling into Gabriel, and his sleep for the last few nights had been blessedly restful. It had been a week since he’d given up his Scotch, and he’d begun waking up an hour earlier in order to implement a workout regimen into his schedule. Doctor Burke had sternly lectured her former captain about the scores of his latest PT test, just before the Dauntless had returned from their survey of sector Beta-274, and Gabriel decided that now was as good a time as any to make a positive change.

  And yet...

  It had been several days since he had passed by this door and the priestess had told him that the Gods had a message for him. As much as Gabriel wanted to ignore what he considered to be an idle comment, he couldn’t. Robert Gabriel had been as deeply religious as his wife, and it was one trait that Marcus hadn’t admired in his father. But ever since taking command of this outpost and the trials – both personal and professional – that had come with it, Gabriel had experienced a renewed sense of loss and remorse for his father. That was what had driven him to the bottle almost every night, for with the reopening of old wounds had come the nightmares, and a tumbler of Scotch had helped him sleep.

  Marc had had only recently admitted to himself that he had never really accepted his father’s death. For all of these years he had simply ignored the loss, boxing up his emotions and shutting them away like stored keepsakes, and now he was afraid to re-open the box. Just being here on Exxar-One, working side by side with the Chrisarii, had almost been too much. Was that why he was here? Was he seeking some kind of absolution for his grief? He certainly didn’t feel any guilt over his father’s death, yet he needed something. Something that couldn’t be named, and perhaps this was all just a distraction, a diversion to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t have to think about that box and its contents. Gabriel wanted to walk away, to get on with his evening. There was always paperwork to finish, and his stomach growled once again to remind him that all he had had for lunch was a ham sandwich and some macaroni salad. But he remained rooted to that spot, staring up at the symbol of the Gods, and he was sure he was receiving more than a few looks of curiosity from passers-by.

  "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable meditating inside the sanctuary, commodore."

  The soothing alto of the priestess startled Gabriel from his reverie, and he smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to come in or not."

  "It's a simple choice."

  "I don't know what I'm looking for."

  "Always a good place to start. I was preparing an early supper. Would you like to join me?" Gabriel hesitated, and the priestess' smile widened. "It's a simple choice."

  The commodore grinned as well and nodded. "You have a point. Yes, I accept your invitation."

  He followed her into the cramped foyer, through the wide sanctuary, and into the small living quarters behind the auditorium. The apartment was cozy, its rooms large enough for one to inhabit comfortably, and the priestess motioned for Gabriel to sit at the table while she busied herself at the stove.

  "I don't believe that I've introduced myself. My name is Ri'Ahl."

  "Ri'Ahl," Gabriel echoed. "That doesn't sound like a human name."

  She laughed. "It isn't. My mother believed I was destined for great things, and she named me after the Tanzanite Goddess of wisdom and mercy. She never expected me to devote my life to the priesthood."

  "Do you still speak to her?"

  "No. She died some years ago, an affliction of Sulo's Disease."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  Ri'Ahl poured two cups of tea and set one before Gabriel. "Thank you." She sat across from him and sipped her tea, her gray eyes sparking at him across the rim of her cup.

  Gabriel felt intensely uncomfortable beneath the scrutiny, and he set his cup down a little too hard. "Sorry."

  "It's all right." The priestess smiled to ease his discomfort, and she reached out to place a hand on his arm. "I sense a lot of conflict surrounding you, commodore, but I suppose that's not a great revelation."

  "No," he replied dryly, "it's not."

  "And yet, there's something else – something beneath all of that...discontent." She paused, then withdrew her hand and took another sip of her tea. "You're the classic military type. You enjoy moving from place to place, never completely settling for what's in front of you, always searching for something more, something that's always just over the horizon."

  "That's a very clichéd diagnosis – and too simplistic."

  "But it's still the truth."

  "Truth is relative."

  "Ah. So you're one of those."

  "'One of those'?"

  "A skeptic. An agnostic. Somebody who accepts only what they can categorize, classify and easily reference with known scientific knowledge and reasoning. Anything else is irrelevant."

  "Now, that's definitely being too simplistic." Despite his misgivings, Gabriel was enjoying the banter with the priestess. "I have seen my share of unexplained phenomena during my career. One incident occurred last year, in fact, during our exploration of the Vorr cluster."

  "But that's scientific exploration. I'm speaking of personal exploration, the mapping and charting of your soul."

  "And who says I have a soul?"

  "Who says you don't?"

  "I do. There's no scientific or medical evidence that sentient beings possess a soul. There's also no evidence of an afterlife of any kind. The physical universe is all that exists."

  "And yet science cannot fully explain the intricacies and secrets of the universe. You yourself just referenced a new discovery that you made last year. New discoveries that cause us to question former truths – especially those in the scientific realm – are being made every day. So why shouldn't the same principle apply to religion and metaphysics?"

  "Because religion and metaphysics are entirely the realm of fiction and philosophy. One cannot debate about that which one cannot first prove exists via science and reason."

  "And what of the purpose of our existence? Do you not believe that there is more than random chaos to our being? Are we just the products of chance, or is there a higher purpose, a reason for our being here?"

  "Why does it matter? Isn't it enough that we exist? Must there be a reason for it?"

  Ri'Ahl stood to refill her cup, and when she held the pot out to Gabriel he shook his head. "I believe there must be a reason, yes."

  "And that is your personal truth," the commodore responded. "You seek fulfillment through metaphysics and religious philosophy. For you
, that is enough. For me, it's not." He stood. "Thank you for the tea, but I must be going."

  "Aren't you curious to know what message the Gods have for you?"

  "Is that a joke, or are you serious?"

  "You don't believe that the Gods communicate with their servants?"

  "As a matter of fact, no. The Gods never have. That's the whole point. All of this is one massive fiction designed to give false comfort to its followers who need a nice, concrete answer to that feeling of unrest which they can't name."

  "That same 'feeling of unrest' which brought you to my doorstep just now."

  "Yes, I'll admit to that. But now I am satisfied that my answer will not be found here."

  "But you decided that before you accepted my invitation. This whole debate has only confirmed what you already know. The truth is, the Gods do carry a message for you, although I'm not sure what that message is."

  "How convenient. I suppose you're going to tell me next that if I just keep my eyes and heart open, I'll receive that message through some unexpected means."

  "You're right, commodore. You have all the answers and you didn't need me after all. I would still like you to stay for dinner, but the choice is yours."

  "I think I'll pass, thank you anyway. Good tea, by the way."

  "It's my mother's recipe."

  "Goodnight, priestess."

  "Goodnight, commodore. The Gods be with you always."

  ( 4 )

  "Now within transmission range of the border drone, brantar." Lieutenant Ritano masked his anxiousness with clipped, professional tones, and he was glad that Varis had assigned him to tactical. Pulling up readouts and managing the influx of sensor data kept his fingers busy and his attention focused. "No sign of patrol ships in the immediate vicinity."