The Imperative Chronicles, Books One and Two: The Mars Imperative & The Tesserene Imperative

by Mark Terence Chapman

“If everyone is finished asking questions,” Guido interjected, “I suggest we see about getting some medical treatment for our walking wounded. I can patch up most of the surface damage and the nanobots can probably fix up Tom’s knee, but we don’t have a way to regrow fingers or ears. Let’s hope the Progenitors’ technology does.” We nodded our agreement.

  “We don’t have a way to land on a planet now that Pod 3 is gone. Swede, while you were rummaging around inside the Seat, did you come across the location of any moons this side of Richelieu that have portals on them?”

  “’Fraid not. At the time, I wasn’t looking for that sort of information.”

  “Pity. That means we’ll have to go all the way back to Richie for treatment. The best I can do is stabilize the injuries until we get there.”

  “We’ll survive until then, won’t we guys?”

  Tom and Sparks nodded, if without much enthusiasm.

  “Crikey!” Cap cried out suddenly, looking horrified.

  “What’s the matter?” Tom asked.

  “I just had a horrible thought. The Stromvik thought we were stealing their ore. What if they emptied our holds and took all the tesserene while we were their prisoners?”

  Sparks’ face paled at the idea. “No! Not after everything we’ve been through.” He absently cradled his mutilated hand closer to his chest.

  Someday I was going to have to find a way to apologize to Sparks for what I’d done to him, once this was all behind us. But now wasn’t the time, and this wasn’t the place.

  With many of the instrument panels deactivated on the bridge, we all made our way to Engineering, to check the readouts, as rapidly as our respective injuries allowed.

  I quickly went through the checkout procedures. “Hang on while I scan the holds.” The tension was palpable for the few interminable seconds this took.

  I closed my eyes and sighed when I read the results. “We’re okay.”

  Cap looked puzzled. “Why do suppose they didn’t empty the cargo holds? After all, they had plenty of time—and look what they did to my bridge!”

  I shrugged. “No idea. Just a guess, but I suppose they figured it made more sense to leave it where it was than to unload it. Where would they put tons of the stuff in their warship?”

  “Besides,” Tom pointed out, “as Drelx said, most spacefaring races use tesserene as a facilitator rather than as fuel. For them it may not be any more valuable than iron is.”

  Guido nodded. “I don’t really care why they didn’t take it. I’m just glad they didn’t. Now let’s get everyone’s injuries taken care of before someone thinks of anything else to fret over.”

  * * * *

  Guido did what he could and we made the best possible time back to Richie. The nanobots were able to repair most but not all of the damage to Tom’s knee. That was as much as Guido could do with the limited equipment at his disposal. The days it took to return to P5M2 were uncomfortable ones but fortunately uneventful. It gave me plenty of time to fill the others in on Drelx’s part in our escape.

  When we arrived, we struggled into our EVA suits and piled into old reliable Pod 2 for the trip down. With Tom’s damaged knee it was difficult for him to get in and out of the pod. Fortunately we had Cap to do the piloting and the landing wouldn’t be difficult.

  Guido, Tom and I strapped ourselves into the cargo area and let Sparks have the passenger seat up front so his mangled hand wouldn’t get banged around too much. We set down in the crater and walked or limped our way into the dome. Then we returned to Grand Central Terminal for treatment.

  Sparks was first into the medical chamber; within minutes he was whole again. It was amazing to see him flexing fingers that moments ago didn’t exist. We all got a chuckle when Sparks said, “Hey! Remember the scar I got that time the interlink manifold cover slipped and bit me? It’s gone!” It was good to see the grin on his face after all he had been through, although it did nothing to lessen my feelings of guilt.

  I went next. When I came out my ear was whole, my teeth and nose were unbroken, and my face unscarred. I wished I could say the same for my psyche. We all were going to carry permanent wounds from this mission, if not always visibly.

  Tom was next and before long was dancing a jig around the hub. Guido’s and Cap’s injuries were speedily healed as well. Amazingly soon, we were all hale and hearty and ready to leave.

  Cap spoke up, “Anyone still interested in returning to the asteroid belt for the remaining iron and copper ore?” His question was greeted with snorts or silence. “I thought not. Right, then. It’s time to go home.”

  “We can’t go without thanking Drelx,” Tom said.

  We all agreed. We owed Drelx our lives and there was no way we could ever repay the little guy. The least we could do was visit him and say thanks in person.

  “Computer,” I called out, “Please let Drelx know that we’re coming to pay him a visit, and then open the portal.”

  * * * *

  One thing about visiting Stripi was that we never knew what illusion we might find the next time we saw Drelx. On our first visit we were greeted by Oz and Emerald City. The second time, it was the tiny town and people of Lilliput. After all we had been through, I really wasn’t in the mood for anything too adventurous. Still, I anticipated something unusual. I just didn’t know what.

  We arrived on Stripi amid pandemonium: a calliope playing, trumpets blaring, animals howling, the odor of animal waste, garish colors everywhere and spotlights focused on the center of all the bedlam. I looked around and saw a huge canvas tent overhead.

  “A circus!” Guido crowed.

  I hadn’t been to a circus since I was a kid.

  Before us were three rings containing, respectively, dancing bears, a lion tamer, and tumbling clowns. Above us, acrobats flipped and soared in the air. A parade of wild animals passed before us, with tigers balanced atop elephants.

  The ringmaster’s voice blared from speakers all around us. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages, may I direct your attention to my right.” He gestured with a sweeping flourish.

  The spotlights shifted to a large cannon and we watched as a small individual in red tights and a helmet climbed into the maw of the gun.

  “In a moment, the Great Marvelo will be shot more than eighty meters—from here…to there.”

  The spotlights jumped to the other end of the arena.

  I watched with mouth agape, as rapt as any child. Cap grinned from ear to ear. “Five…four…three…” we counted down with the ringmaster, “two…one…fire!” From a large plume of smoke shot a tiny shape, over the clowns, over the lion tamer, over the bears, clear across the arena and into the waiting net. The five of us applauded enthusiastically, along with the audience of thousands.

  The Great Marvelo extricated himself from the catch net and dropped to the ground.

  He marched over to us and exclaimed, “Whee! That was exhilarating! I must visit your planet in person one day. You have some extraordinary entertainment!”

  “Drelx?” Tom shouted. “I can’t believe you just did that!”

  “As I told you, when working on a barren planet like this I have to find ways to amuse myself. Tom, it is good to see you again. You look well. You all do,” he said, sweeping us with his eyes. “Welcome back to Stripi. I am delighted to see that you survived the Stromvik. I was concerned until I detected your presence in the portal network.”

  “We came here to thank you for coming to our rescue,” Cap explained.

  “It was my pleasure, believe me,” Drelx said. “I have not had that much excitement since…well, actually never. Now, enjoy the show. We will talk more later.”

  For the next two hours he treated us to sword swallowers, mimes, jugglers, tightrope walkers, and other treats such as I had forgotten existed. We laughed at the antics of the tumbling clowns, gasped as acrobats defied gravity and smiled at the juggling sea lions. I hadn’t felt so at peace in months.

  Finally, the show ended. We ap
plauded as the ringmaster and all the acts took their bows and exited on the backs of elephants, camels, horses, and zebras. The spotlights went out and the entire illusion was replaced by a large drawing room, complete with crackling fire and shelves of books. We all sat in comfortable leather chairs basking in the warmth from the fireplace. Drelx was attired in a fashionable blue paisley smoking jacket and a rose-colored ascot that clashed terribly with his green skin. The incongruousness of it all brought smiles to our faces. The only things missing from the tableau were Meerschaum pipes, brandy snifters, and a butler named Jeeves.

  “Thank you for that, Drelx,” I said softly, thinking of the circus. “After everything we’ve been through, I wondered if I’d ever laugh like a child again.”

  The rest of the crew nodded.

  Drelx bowed his head and smiled back. “Now, I expect you have some questions for me.”

  “Yes,” I said. “How were you were able to find us aboard the Stromvik ship. I know you were monitoring our progress in the portals, but we didn’t use the portals to get to Tral the last time, nor when we were brought aboard the Stromvik ship. How could you possibly know we were on that ship?”

  “Ah, yes. I have to admit to some fancy sleuthing in that regard, worthy, perhaps, of your Sherlock Holmes. Earlier, when you explored the portals, you visited Celentis and Tral. You spent a number of hours on Celentis, which had the sky cities and amusement park to occupy you.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Guido shudder at the mention of the amusement park, where we all thought he’d been killed.

  Drelx continued. “Yet, on Tral, which contained nothing of interest in the area you visited, except the so-called Seat of Power, you spent two days there. That made me wonder whether there was more to the legends than meets the eye. Later, you returned and spent an entire week there. That convinced me there must be something there worth keeping an eye on. So I set the external sensors in the terminal situated across the gorge from the Seat to watch for activity in the area. That is how I knew when you returned to Tral in your new pod.”

  “That makes sense, but how did you know we were on the Stromvik ship?” Cap asked.

  “That was more difficult. The sensors on Tral observed the highly visible energy discharges from your battle in orbit. Of course, I had no way of knowing whether you were involved. However, it seemed likely, so I investigated further. I had the portal computer monitor all conversations by travelers in the portals, listening for certain words and phrases. When one Stromvik military officer happened to mention to another that a Stromvik ship had captured the ‘hoo-menzz’ that had caused them so much grief earlier, I knew you were aboard a Stromvik ship. I had to act quickly before they decided to leave orbit and return with you to Strom, their home world.”

  “Okay,” I interrupted. “That explains how you knew we were on the ship, but how were you able to talk to me in my cell, all the way from Stripi? I thought there was no way to enable faster-than-light communications?”

  “That is correct—using starflight drive technology, such as you have. However, using the portal network, signals can be sent from portal to portal instantly—how else could the portal computer keep all of its constituent parts in sync? In this case, it was a simple matter to communicate with the Stromvik ship via the portal computer in the terminal on Tral.”

  “But, how did you manage to unlock our cells and disable the alarms and so on, by remote control, as it were?” Cap asked.

  “Ah. That may have been the easiest part of the whole process. The Stromvik are technologically lazy, and not half as clever as they believe. Their security system comes from a people they conquered generations ago. It has not been enhanced significantly since. Their encryption protocols are centuries out of date and relatively easy to crack using the power of the portal computer. It was child’s play to tap into their communication system, mask the traces of my incoming signal, and monitor their internal and external communications. Once I knew where you were, I overrode their security controls, which allowed me to do everything else. Unfortunately, this latter task was more complicated and took me many hours. I humbly apologize for the torment you suffered at the hands of the Stromvik during that time.”

  “‘Child’s play,’ he says.” Guido chuckled. “There’s no need to apologize. We owe you our lives, as short and painful as they would have been otherwise.”

  He paused for a moment to grimace; then he continued. “Please don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I can’t help wondering why you were so interested in what happened to five humans from a backwater world thousands of light years from Stripi that you would go to all the trouble of tracking our movements and engineering our escape. I know you said during our first visit that you found us interesting and you like our music, but there must be more to it than that.”

  “Ah, yes, that is the crux of the matter. At first it was simple curiosity. But later I discovered that Earth is not an unimportant world, as I believe you already know.”

  We nodded.

  “As I said, I suspected that there was more to the legends of the Seat of Power than was generally believed. Thus, I began researching the legends seriously, using the immeasurable power of the portal computer. It was believed that there were no records of the departure of the Progenitors, by design, because the Progenitors did not want to risk the Hruk following them to complete their genocide. However, I discovered after much research that there were indeed scraps of information, available from various other sources, about the path of the Progenitors’ exodus from the galaxy. Piecing together this information, I was able to extrapolate that they passed close to several star systems, one of which you call the Sol system. That seemed unlikely to be pure coincidence. I also found pre-exodus references to a contingency plan to seed certain planets with Progenitors’ genetic material to ensure that the Progenitors would one day rise again in this galaxy.

  “Combining these bits of information with what I learned of the human evolutionary timeline made me conclude that you must be the reincarnation of the Progenitors. I see by your nods that you already know. Excellent. May I ask how you learned this? And how you managed to fight the Stromvik frigate to a virtual stalemate with an unarmed craft?”

  I looked at the others, unsure of whether to reveal the secret of the Seat. I caught Cap’s eye and he nodded his approval. If we couldn’t trust Drelx, after all he had done for us, who could we trust?

  “The Krewl-tí were correct.” I began. “The Seat is one of only a few remaining nodes of a secret computer network, built during the war with the Hruk. It can only be operated by the Progenitors and their descendants. It contains a lot of information the Progenitors placed there for us, including the story of their final days and advanced weapons technology. We were able to quickly build and arm Shamu with some of the simpler weapons.”

  “My, my,” Drelx responded. “I was correct in my earlier assessment of your species’ resourcefulness. You have accomplished much in such a short time. This is why I find you so intriguing. Once I recognized that you were the Progenitors reborn, I knew you had to be protected until you could return to Earth with your knowledge. In the more than two billion years since the rise of the Progenitors, there has not been another race of their equal. Until the Hruk came along, there was unity in the galaxy, with the wise and peaceful Progenitors as the stabilizing force. They did not need to rule the galaxy. They merely existed and that was enough to engender peace. Since the fall of the Progenitors, there has been much strife among the various peoples of the galaxy. No one race has been great enough to provide the stability the Progenitors offered. Perhaps, one day, humans will ascend to the same position. That is my hope, at least.”

  “Drelx, as flattering as all that is, humanity is nowhere near ready to assume that sort of role on the galactic level.” I was glad to see Sparks contributing to the discussion, given his ordeal. “It would take us thousands, if not millions, of years to reach that point—if we ever do.”

  “I have b
een alive for more than a millennium already. If there is anything I have learned, it is to look at the ‘big picture,’ as you call it. Even a million years is but a grain of sand on the beach to a galaxy that has existed for billions of years and will exist for billions more. You will take a prominent place in the galaxy—someday. That is my belief. And that is why I had to help you.”

  * * * *

  We finished up a pleasant day with Drelx and had a wonderful meal of assorted delicacies from across the galaxy. After turning him down earlier, we simply couldn’t do it to him again. Besides, the only alien food we’d tried up to that point was the “fast-food walnuts” in the portal hubs. This gave us a chance to try other well-prepared selections from more than a dozen of Drelx’s favorite cuisines.

  Drelx had transformed the 19th century drawing room into a medieval castle dining hall, complete with rough-hewn plank tables and serving wenches. It was impossible to tell that they weren’t real women. Or perhaps we’d just been away from home too long.

  “You simply must try this Melvurian sea goat. Hmm. I am not sure I translated that correctly, but it is a small warm-blooded creature native to the shallow equatorial seas of Melvu. It has an incredible fragrance that is only detectable while chewing.”

  It was displayed on a bed of something that looked like purple kelp and topped with a creamy pink sauce, but it smelled delicious.

  Drelx was correct about the aroma. As good as it smelled prior to eating it, the aroma was indescribably delectable while chewing. There was a bit of floral fragrance, combined with the scent of something unidentifiably tart. The taste was much more substantial, yet unlike anything I could put a name to. Despite the unappealing name, I was sure I could eat it for a year without ever growing tired of it.

  “And be sure to have some of this Flormbooli wine.” One of the wenches began pouring. “It is made from the excretions of…well, you probably would not care to know what it is made from, but the taste…ahh, the taste, the bouquet….” Drelx was in his element, playing the host. To be honest, I think he was lonely and this gave him the perfect opportunity to interact with other sentients for a prolonged period of time. He went on in this fashion for hours, introducing us to one incredible delight after another.