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

by Mark Terence Chapman

  What a luxury it was to relax and chat without having to worry about marauding aliens or running out of oxygen. As the day passed into night, I felt the tension melt away and I was left with a feeling of serenity. The crisis—no, make that crises, were over and it was time to return to Earth.

  We knew the moment had come to take our leave when we all began yawning profusely. Drelx offered us beds for the night, but we decided to head back to Shamu instead and prepare to leave orbit.

  We were going home.

  CHAPTER 29

  The next morning, I awoke first. I was sore in places, but otherwise felt surprisingly well, all things considered.

  I was in the mood to celebrate, so I whipped up a huge batch of Western omelets, with hash browns smothered in onions, homemade southern-style biscuits and honey, strong synthcaf, and orange juice. Even as well as spacers typically eat, this meal was something special.

  I used a ladle and a large pot lid to make a racket over the intercom loud enough to wake a month-old corpse. “Galley. Now!” I hollered. The others came at a dead run, barefoot, wide-eyed, and disheveled.

  “Wha—?” was Guido’s incisive remark.

  Cap followed with, “What the devil?”

  “Gentlemen,” I beamed, “your breakfast is ready.”

  There was much grumbling, but the aroma of the synthcaf and food soon brought them to their senses. Everyone dug in with gusto. Drelx’s alien feast was delicious and satisfying, but still didn’t quite make up for several days of the Stromvik’s tasteless porridge. We were ravenous.

  After breakfast we chatted for a while, discussing various events from the mission. When the chatter finally began to wind down, Cap got up and left the room. He returned moments later with a tall box that he set on the table before him. We all knew what was coming—this wasn’t the first time for any of us, after all—but that didn’t lessen the anticipation.

  “Gentlemen,” Cap began, “we began this mission with one goal: to search for and find minerals for the benefit of Earth, the Company, and, of course, our pocketbooks.” We all chuckled.

  “We encountered many setbacks along the way, and almost died—more than once. But we persevered, and in the end we succeeded. In fact, we succeeded beyond our wildest dreams: a fortune in tesserene, technology that’ll enable mankind to travel the stars farther and faster than ever before, medical technologies that’ll prolong human life indefinitely, the Seat of Power, and we even found a friend among the stars.

  “We discovered that human destiny is far grander than anyone had imagined. More importantly, we’re all returning home alive and well—albeit with a few nicks and scratches along the way.” That drew more chuckles.

  “Therefore, I’m officially declaring this mission a success. Swede, if you please, break out the champagne glasses! I know it’s early in the day for champagne, but what the hell.” He unsealed the refrigerated box and removed the bottle as we all shouted “hip-hip-hooray!”

  I passed out the steel mugs that had to suffice as champagne glasses.

  We raised our drinks in the air, and Cap made the traditional toast. “To the Company. To success. To loved ones left behind, and to good friends, near and far!”

  “And to tesserene!” Tom blurted.

  “And to Drelx!” Guido added.

  “Especially to Drelx,” I amended.

  “Hear, hear!” Sparks seconded.

  We clinked glasses and drank. Nothing had ever tasted as good as that first sip. We’d gone farther than Man had ever been, seen things and done things that no one on Earth had before, and we’d survived to tell the tale.

  All too soon, we finished off the bottle.

  “I believe it’s time,” Cap declared softly. We all cheered once more, then set about preparing for the jump to Earth.

  * * * *

  The hours that elapsed during the jump seemed to take a lifetime. We made the passage from Richelieu in little more than two hours—in a single jump—versus the eight days it originally took us to arrive from Earth. The hours couldn’t pass swiftly enough for me—or for any of us, really. We had loved ones to embrace and so much to tell that we were fairly bursting with excitement. We were all too antsy to sit still for long. Even the traditional return-trip poker game couldn’t hold our attention. After several listless hands, the game devolved into mindless chatter.

  “You know,” Sparks began, “after all that’s happened I think it’s time for some new nicknames.”

  “What do you mean?” Tom should have known better than to encourage Sparks.

  “Well, we’ve been through a lot, and we’re not the same people we were when we left Earth. I think we should have nicknames that reflect that fact.”

  “Such as?” Cap asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. You were having so much fun zooming around the Progenitors’ amusement park, maybe we should call you Flyboy.” That drew chuckles from the rest of us.

  Guido joined in the spirit of the moment. “Yeah, and the way Swede sat like a statue on the Seat of Power, we could call him Stonewall.”

  Sparks continued, “Tom had that bum leg courtesy of the Stromvik. We could call him Peg-leg Pete.”

  “Ha. Ha.” Tom didn’t seem to care for his nickname. “I suppose because you lost those fingers we could call you Stubby!”

  Sparks tensed and his face grew dark for a moment. Then he relaxed and smiled weakly. “Yeah, I guess I deserved that.”

  “Swede lost an ear.” Cap contributed. “We could call him ‘Huh?’”

  I cupped my restored left ear with my hand. “What’s that, sonny? Speak up!”

  Cap grinned.

  “Nah,” Guido replied. “It wouldn’t work. We’d be calling out, ‘Hey, Huh!’”

  Sparks got back into it. “Well, Cap got clawed up pretty good. We could call him Claude.”

  “After the way my face got mangled by the Stromvik,” Tom interjected, “you could call me Phantom, for the Phantom of the Opera. Hey, I kinda like that!”

  At that point, the names took a turn for the weird.

  “If we’re calling Cap ‘Flyboy,’ you could call me ‘Flygirl,’ for the way I screamed like a little girl on that bucket-chair ride.” Guido had a rueful grin on his face.

  I cupped my ear again. “Huh?”

  This went on for quite a while, with the nicknames getting wilder and raunchier the longer we continued. Eventually we ran out of names and the so-called ‘poker game’ broke up.

  After that, I took to watching the view ahead of the ship from the bridge’s holoscreen. There was nothing to see but jumbles of colors and light as we slipped through the folds of space, but I found it utterly hypnotic and soothing. Finally, we arrived in the Sol system, just outside the orbit of Venus. Another hop and we were within a few light-seconds of ODF Odyssey. One more microhop, once we knew our berth, and we’d be in thruster range.

  Damn, it was good to see Earth again, floating serenely before us.

  “Right, then. Sparks,” Cap ordered, “after we dock, start transmitting everything we downloaded from the Seat to the various international news agencies and scientific organizations. Make sure the whole world knows what we’ve found. No secrets for anyone to hoard.”

  “Aye, Cap.” Sparks’ inflection turned formal as he spoke into the radio. “Odyssey, this is SI ship Shamu, requesting permission to dock.”

  “Shamu, you’re cleared to dock in bay twenty-three. Welcome home. You’re back early. I hope that means your mission was successful.” Marilyn’s warm voice was always good to hear. It meant that we were home and safe.

  I heard the smile in Sparks’ voice through the intercom. “Successful? I guess you could say that. We’re coming home with twelve hundred tons of iron and almost ninety tons of refined tesserene. Plus a few bonus items.”

  The silence was electric. “D-did you just say nine-zero TONS of-of tesserene?”

  Sparks chuckled at Marilyn’s discomfiture, enjoying the moment. “That’s affirmative, Odysse
y. And there’s a lot more where that came from. You might want to alert the media.”

  * * * *

  Did she ever. When word got out that we’d brought back tons of tesserene, the value of that mineral plummeted precipitously—the law of supply-and-demand at work. But because the amount we brought back was many times greater than the entire world supply at the time, it was still worth a rather incredible fortune.

  As if bringing home tons of tesserene wasn’t enough to throw the world into a tizzy, the news that we made first contact with not just one but two alien species, and that we’d fought a small war with one of them, sent the world stock markets tumbling. Then, news of the kinds of alien technology we brought back with us got out and the stock markets soared in giddy relief.

  Naturally, when reports of the portal technology went public, the stocks of transportation companies crashed—especially in the airline and bullet train industries. Everyone thought that with the coming of portals no one would ever fly again. But they didn’t account for human inertia.

  It’ll be decades before portal technology is cheap enough to be prevalent on Earth. It’s expected that at first it’ll be used primarily for interplanetary travel to our existing colonies and intercontinental travel on Earth. The plane/train/groundcar industries should have plenty of time to transition themselves into other businesses before the need for their services gradually dwindles. Even then, many people are bound to feel uncomfortable with portal travel, while others will simply prefer traveling by conventional means.

  By the time we reached the base of the Odyssey elevator, the media frenzy was in full force. We were treated to the kind of reception normally accorded best-selling musicians and star athletes: parades, interviews with hundreds of print and holo journalists, dinners with presidents and kings, paparazzi everywhere—you name it. It was impossible to leave our homes, or the offices of Saleya Intergalactic, without reporters and holographers in our faces. The term “media circus” came to mind, although it was nowhere near as much fun as the actual circus Drelx had staged for us.

  We soon had all the money we would ever need—more than we ever expected to spend, really, but there was no peace for us. Wherever on the planet we went, we were accompanied by an entourage of company spokesmen, the press, well-wishers, protest groups, and other assorted individuals. There was no way to escape the attention. Yet, after all we’d been through, the thought of barricading ourselves in a secure enclave didn’t appeal to us. After many weeks of this, the five of us decided that with all the hoopla going on, Earth wasn’t where we wanted to be right then.

  Ultimately, we realized that the best place for us was back in space, operating much as we had been until then for the Company—at least for a few years, until all the fuss died down. Maybe then we’d be ready to retire to a life of luxury. But, in the meantime we wanted the freedom to go where we wanted and to do what we wanted. The perfect solution would be to buy our own starship.

  The problem was, only governments and major corporations owned starships, due to their outrageous cost. Even with the eye-popping size of our bonuses, we couldn’t swing a new state-of-the-art exploration and mining ship the size of Shamu. We might have been able to manage a small scout ship, but that would have taken all the fun out of it.

  So we went to the senior management of the Company and offered to buy Shamu. After all, she was over eighty years old and had some holes punched in her—though already repaired in space dock. As it happened, and unbeknownst to us, the Company had earlier slated her to be decommissioned and sold for scrap the following year.

  We were shocked by the news. After all, Shamu had been more than simply a workplace for us. She was our second home. Truth be told, for some of us she was more like our first home. More importantly, she’d grown to be a trusted friend. We quickly hammered out a tentative agreement that would let us have her, lock, stock, and cargo holds, once we settled on a price.

  With a small piece of my share of the bonus money, I bought a large ranch at the foot of the Tetons in Wyoming, away from the overcrowding of the big cities. There weren’t many people out there, which is the way I wanted it. I didn’t know one end of a horse from another, but Sparks was around to show me.

  * * * *

  Looking ahead, the discovery of the Seat of Power is what will really propel the human race past its own limitations. Only humans have the Seat, which gives us a direct neural interface to the computer. This in turn lets us absorb an understanding of the science, materials, and techniques of the Progenitors. That should allow us to skip over thousands of years of plodding advances and quickly move on to much more sophisticated technologies. Of course, we’re nowhere near caught up with the Progenitors in that regard, but we’ll get there exponentially faster than we would have without the Seat.

  Ironically, due to the particular requirements of the Seat, instead of simply seeking out the most brilliant scientific minds to undertake this incredible journey of the mind, humanity is forced to seek out the most brilliant scientific minds with large hands! (It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that in some cases, large hands take precedence over brilliance.) Those scientists who fail to measure up in that regard are relegated to learning via the portal computer, putting them at a disadvantage compared with their colleagues. They’re literally handicapped, as Sparks wryly pointed out.

  Of course, had we been forced to keep using the Seat on Tral, we’d have continually run the risk of butting heads with the Stromvik. That was why I looked up the locations of the other remaining Seats the last time I was on Tral.

  One is on Orench, a planet now occupied by the Kreen. They’re a friendly people with whom we’ve initiated trade relations. Another is on a verdant world six hundred light years from Earth that we’ve since begun settling. The first colonists named it Avalon. It’s a lush planet that proved to be an ideal colony for Earth. The final remaining Seat is on a dead world on the far side of the galaxy from us. We have no other reason to go there except to use the Seat. But at least it’s far enough away from the Stromvik that we shouldn’t have to worry about them dropping in for a visit

  * * * *

  In the midst of all this excitement, I finally got up the nerve to confess my part in his torture at the hands of the Stromvik. It was a day I’d been dreading for weeks. Perhaps I should have simply dropped it, and not dredged up unpleasant memories, but I knew couldn’t live with myself any longer if I didn’t tell him.

  The five of us stayed at the Majestic Hotel in Dallas during the negotiations. There was no need for all of us to attend every minute of every meeting—our team of lawyers did most of the work anyway—so we took turns. I left the lawyers in charge and departed early one afternoon because I was unable to concentrate on the proceedings.

  I returned to the hotel and went to Sparks’ suite. The Company was sparing no expense with its heroes and media-darlings-of-the-moment. I knocked softly and the door opened.

  “Hey, Swede, I thought you were still in the meeting. Come on in! I was just about to turn on the Crunchball game. The Dragons really turned around their season while we were gone. Let me order some munchies and real beer from room service.” Sparks’ cheerfulness wasn’t making this any easier.

  “Thanks. Maybe later, if you still want to spend time with me after I tell you what I came here for.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sparks’ easy grin was replaced by a frown. “Are the negotiations going badly?”

  “No, nothing like that. You’d better have a seat,” I began. We chose the plush chairs in front of the still-dark holoscreen. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness for my actions on the Stromvik ship.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sparks asked. “You saved our butts.” His frown deepened.

  I opened my mouth to answer and then hesitated. This was proving tougher than I’d hoped. I closed my mouth and took a deep breath before continuing.

  “When I was being interrogated, the inquisitor showed me your finger.” Sparks’ face tig
htened. “He told me that if I didn’t give him the encryption key for our computer system, much the same would happen to me.” Sparks nodded and absently rubbed his now-healed hand.

  I went on to explain why I did what I did. As I spoke I watched shock, hurt, resentment, and anger all flash across his face.

  “I see,” he said, finally. “I understand. You took the only logical course of action to safeguard Earth. We were friends, so I’m sure it must have hurt you to do what you did.” His voice was wooden and his face dark with a combination of emotions that I could only guess at.

  When he said that we “were” friends, the way he said it chilled my blood. I feared this was a wound to our friendship that would never heal.

  Sparks continued, “That explains why, after he tortured the key out of me, he came back and said I’d lied, and tore off another finger and then my thumb—to ‘teach me a lesson’ about lying to him. I couldn’t understand that at the time.”

  Sparks’ voice was icy calm at this point, and that was even worse, somehow, than anger. “Now I do.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sparks. I know it hurts to hear this, and the last thing I want to do is to bring you more pain, but I thought you should know.”

  “Well, now I know,” he concluded, flatly.

  There was nothing more to be said, so I awkwardly took my leave and went back to my suite to brood.

  Sparks was cold to me after that. Cap, Tom and Guido noticed the chill between us and asked about it and whether they could help. I explained what I had told Sparks. That put a strain on my relationships with the others as well. Guido was almost as shocked and hurt as Sparks was when he found out. Tom and Cap agreed that I did what I had to do under the circumstances. That caused some arguments between Guido in one camp and Tom and Cap in the other. I tried to stay out of it, but it was impossible.