Explorations- First Contact

by Nathan Hystad (ed)

“I’m on the commander frequency, so take this in the ready room.”

  “Okay.” A slight pause. “Is everything all right, Elizabeth?”

  “Down here, yes. The Blessed are a warm and generous race, and as curious about us as we are about them.”

  “No problems, then?”

  “One of their Counselors said something to me about the earth tremors. They’ve never had them. Not until three weeks ago. That’s when we transited into this system. I don’t believe in coincidence and I know you don’t either.”

  “Yes, that’s strange,” Steven said. “I’ll look into it.”

  “Good,” Elizabeth said.

  “I miss you.”

  “Miss you too.”

  “I love you.”

  Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. “I love you too.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Accompanied by Doctor Leon Lefevre, chief geologist, they moved deeper inside the pitch dark interior of Mount Warden. The mountain that towered above the city of Haven’s Door had a story to tell. More folklore than fact, but in Elizabeth’s opinion, curious enough to warrant closer examination.

  Leon looked up from his bank of seismic measuring instruments. “This is definitely the source of the tremors.”

  “Could we be in danger?

  “It’s hard to say.”

  “All right, could this mountain be a formerly extinct volcano?”

  “I don’t think so.” He sighed. “This isn’t my field of expertise. We need a volcanologist, and we don’t have one.”

  “Is there any way you can tell me if this is active?”

  “It’s active all right, but whether it’s dangerous …” He shrugged. “I’ll stay here and keep monitoring the activity. I’ll have Doctor Spenser relieve me for the night shift. We can only sit and wait, I’m afraid to say.”

  “Very well, Leon. Contact me at any time if things change.”

  “Shall do.”

  Elizabeth returned to her quarters in the Congress building, showered, and made an appointment with Counselor Glen of the Forest Fortitude. Twenty minutes later she stepped into his office. After the usual cordial greetings, she got to her point.

  “Mount Warden is the epicenter for the tremors.”

  “Is it?”

  Elizabeth stared at him. He appeared to be unfazed by the news.

  “There is a possibility of danger.”

  “Oh, how so?”

  “On my world, tremors can sometimes be the warning before a destructive earthquake.”

  “I don’t believe we have anything to worry about.”

  “Perhaps,” Elizabeth said, trying to contain her irritation. “But, sir, if that mountain blows up it would destroy your largest city and the six million Blessed residing here. Don’t you think you should make some kind of preparations? Just to be on the safe side?”

  “I thank you for your concern, Elizabeth, but we have nothing to fear from Mount Warden.”

  “Very well, Glen of the Forest, but I have nearly a hundred of my people down here and I won’t take the chance. Thank you for your hospitality, but I am evacuating my crew and science teams until I can reassure myself that it’s safe here.”

  “Respectfully, Elizabeth, I think you are overreacting just a tad. Everything will be fine.”

  A tremor shook the building.

  Glen didn’t bat an eyelid. What is wrong with these people?

  “Very well, Counselor, I shall bid you good day.”

  ***

  Commander Steven Albacore checked his screen. The shuttle had made three runs to the surface and only twenty of Nomad’s personnel remained planet-side, including Elizabeth. She would be on the last shuttle run. He felt his heart warming. Steven didn’t think it was possible to miss her so much. Once refueling of the shuttle was complete, he would have her back again.

  “Commander, we’ve got a problem,” Lieutenant Volkov said from the tactical station.

  “Let’s hear it, Anna.”

  “The sun, it’s found us again,” she said, panic rising in her voice.

  “ETA?”

  “Using our last encounter as a base line, around five minutes, Sir.”

  Steven felt the weight of decision and heartache press down on him like a huge stone.

  “Helm, break orbit. Take us away from that thing at flank speed and prepare to engage the star drive.”

  “What about the Captain?” Adam Hong asked.

  “Hopefully it will follow us.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” Anna asked.

  “Adam, carry out your orders.” Steven’s voice startled him. More a machine’s voice than a man’s.

  He keyed his comm. “Captain, Nomad.”

  “Yes, Steven, I see it. You’ve got my ship out of danger, right?”

  “Yes, Captain. I’m…sorry.”

  “Don’t be, you’ve saved my ship and crew. What’s its ETA with you?”

  “A bit over five minutes. We should be able to outrun it.”

  “You know what this means?”

  “Yes. We can never go home.” And I can never hold you in my arms again.

  “At least we had some time together, my love,” Elizabeth said. “That’s something, I suppose.”

  “I’ll always love you.”

  Distortion garbled her reply. Out of range. Tears welled in his eyes but he held them back. Now Nomad was his command, and the Captain never shows anything but inhuman control.

  ***

  The sun grew larger in the clear blue sky. Will it do to this world what it did to Pegasi? Or will it pursue Nomad? At least my ship is safe. Steven will do whatever it takes to protect her and the crew. I shall miss him.

  A tremor, more powerful than any of the others, shook the building. Elizabeth instinctually backed away from the balcony. She kept her eyes on the glowing ball of death. It began to slow.

  “That’s it,” she whispered. It wasn’t after Nomad. “It wants this world.”

  There was nothing to do. They had no weapons that could make a microscopic dent in the giant sun. It continued to fill the sky with its massive golden form.

  The city shook violently as the strongest tremor thus far caused her room to shake. Glass cracked and panels fell out. Part of the ceiling collapsed onto the floor. She stepped onto the balcony and stared at Mount Warden. Something was happening. An enormous panel opened toward the base of the mountain. A ripple of energy, almost invisible to the human eye, pulsed into the atmosphere. A concussion wave struck the city and knocked Elizabeth from her feet. She stood and made it to the balcony in time to see the energy wave hit the killer sun. The glow of its corona disappeared, revealing a much smaller sphere than first imagined. Another pulse struck out from the mountain. This time she was ready for it, with her back and head pinned to the wall. Again, the globe was struck. It slowly vanished as if it had simply dissolved.

  Elizabeth was too gobsmacked to think. Then the words rushed through her mind. The Blessed of Sanctuary. The Savior. Mount Warden. Yes, I see. But how? Who? I have many questions for our hosts.

  CHAPTER 9

  The technology was beyond imagination. Awesome, massive, the words to describe what she was seeing escaped Elizabeth. Deep within the mountain, the gigantic complex had stood for uncounted tens of thousands of years. Or so the lore said. A handful of the Blessed, at the very pinnacle of the Congress’ hierarchy, knew of this place and of its ancient purpose.

  The elderly scholar, Rain Day Green Field, led her through the astounding complex, occasionally pausing to explain some detail or another that went completely over Elizabeth’s head. In time they came to a wall that shimmered once before disappearing.

  The area was light, pure white light. It should have burned her exposed skin, but didn’t.

  “What is this place?” she asked the scholar.

  “I am Purity, Guardian of this world and all who suffer under the yoke of the Angry Ones.” The voice belonged to the angels, bathing Elizabeth in the most pure love imaginabl
e. Her breath caught. She tried to speak but could only think, what is this?

  “Thank you, Captain Elizabeth Jane Millard.”

  She swallowed and retrieved her voice. “For what?”

  “Thank you for leading the Angry One to me.”

  “Purity, I did not intentionally lead the, ah, Angry One here.”

  “Still, you have done this world and the galaxy a great service.”

  “So it’s over now. The Angry One is no more.”

  “No, Elizabeth, it is only a beginning.”

  ***

  Steven immersed himself in work. The pain of his loss throbbed with fierce persistence and try as he might, he could not escape it. He had, in the dim past, been victim to an unkind partner, but that was nothing compared to his loss. Elizabeth’s beautiful face, her full lips, her startling green eyes, and oh God, her smile that touched his heart, were nothing but a constant source of torture, a pain that endured. He had considered suicide, but his duty forbade such an indulgence.

  “God, I miss you.” A tear ran down his cheek.

  His comm beeped. “Captain,” he said, forcing his voice steady.

  “Hello, my love.”

  His mind was gone. Now he was hearing her from the grave.

  “Steven?” Elizabeth said.

  He could only sob and wish he could forget her.

  “Commander Albacore, snap to,” she barked.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Think you were going mad, Fish? Don’t worry, I’m alive and boy, do I have a story for you.”

  “Elizabeth. No, this isn’t possible. We’re ten light years from Sanctuary, well out of comm range.”

  “I have made a new friend. He asked me what I most wished for and here we are.”

  “Who’s your friend, the genie of the lamp?” He laughed. Is it possible or have I lost my marbles?

  Elizabeth returned his laugh, breaking his heart over again.

  “Not far off it. I’ll tell you all about it when you get back here.”

  “What about our friend?”

  “Gone. But he has six brothers that we have to take care of.”

  “Huh?”

  “We have a new mission, my love.”

  He knew he was jabbering like a loon, but this bafflement knew no bounds.

  “New mission?”

  “Yes, Steven. We’re going to save the galaxy from the Angry Ones.”

  That’s it. I’m certifiable.

  PJ Strebor Bio

  Hailing from Australia, PJ is a science fiction author, and his Hope Island series has two books out now.

  Uncommon Purpose and First Comes Duty are both available on Amazon!

  The Darklady

  By Scott Moon

  Captain Jena Morrison-Diablo continued through the Klekemac solar system with caution.

  Her crew didn’t speak.

  The view screen was too big for her taste, high definition video sucking her into space with alarming realism. She wanted to disable the surround sound and tactile emitters, but her crew insisted on overstimulation. Maybe there were situations where every nuance of expression and environment had a purpose, like negotiating a peace settlement or making first contact. This mission was supposed to be a resource raid and nothing more. The corporate brains at Darklady Enterprises said so. Smart men and women in command of data from the Sphere ship and advanced mathematics had promised there was nothing to worry about in the Klekemac system.

  Despite her preparation, tension gripped each muscle of her body like a steadily advancing plague of self-doubt. A lifetime of training and daydreaming was about to materialize into alien contact. The sacrifice she made for this mission would be — must be — worth the price.

  Science Master Kevin Morrison-Diablo, her husband, broke the silence. “I don’t believe the ship to have offensive capabilities. The propulsion and mass ratios are more in line with an exploration vessel or generation ship.”

  “Do you see a weapons array?” Jena asked, annoyed that she had to repeat the question.

  “No, Captain,” he said. “I do not see weapons.”

  Jena refused to look at him. He wasn’t getting on her good side anytime soon.

  The view screen pulsed with light.

  Science Officer Tiffany Morrison and Doctor Valerie Cook cursed on opposite sides of the command bridge as they worked frantically on the unexpected resonance of the Sphere ship displacement drive.

  “Still increasing,” Tiffany said.

  A pause.

  “Captain,” Dr. Cook said. “I recommend you delay contact for as long as possible.”

  Attention fully directed at individual sensor screens and predictive mathematical software, Dr. Cook and Tiffany cursed at the same time.

  Jena looked sharply at the doctor, then back at the primary view panel. She expected her sister to fulfill her genius-but-youthfully-ditzy role. Cook was the smartest person on the ship and should react better.

  Relax, Jena, she told herself.

  “The ship is not the problem,” Kevin said. “The world it is coming from could support human life, more or less. I think this ship is fleeing that planet.”

  Fear pulsed through her, stronger for the unfamiliarity of the emotion. “Explain.”

  “Ships are launching from the surface of Klekemac,” he said.

  “Yes, I see that, Science Master Morrison-Diablo,” she said. Using his proper name and rank had been a joke once; now it was a passive-aggressive admonition to someone on her shit list.

  “Well,” he paused to pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes too tightly. “They aren’t ships. They’re organic.”

  Jena jerked her gaze toward Dr. Valerie Cook and stared.

  “Kevin is correct. The objects arising from the surface of Klekemac appear to be organic.”

  “And faster than hell!” Tiffany said, leaning too near her work terminal.

  “Hail the fleeing ship,” Jena said.

  “Neither the ship nor the biological…things…are answering our hails, however the bio-ships are sending a message to the fleeing vessel in several languages,” the communications officer said.

  “Is one of these languages human?”

  The communications officer squirmed in his chair. “Not much of it makes sense. The nine bio-ships seem to be calling the fleeing ship ‘Purgoid Creatures,’ whatever that means.”

  Jena watched and waited, tension growing with each passing minute.

  “Prepare for hostilities,” she said. Several moments later, she monitored the tactical situation on a small screen in one corner of her command center. She selected an overall view rather than one of her pilots’ helmet cameras.

  Small Ship Operators Kern, Fox, Moss, Strebor, and Hayes crawled into their ships mounted on the “bottom” of the FCF Darklady.

  Who the hell designed a fighter carrier option that requires a spacewalk to deploy pilots? Jena thought, trying to focus. “Are my Security Marines prepped?”

  “They are, Captain,” Security Chief Ophelia Denton said, her smoke-damaged voice oddly comforting despite Jena’s distrust of the semi-organic android.

  “By the numbers, Chief.” Jena gave the order, stalling for time and creating background noise. Despite the high resolution video and sound on the bridge sub-screen, the Tactical Operations Center where the security chief worked seemed isolated and remote.

  “Sound off, Marines,” Ophelia said to her team waiting in the shockproof, gravity hardened deployment cabin. “Kennedy?”

  “Here.”

  “Cooper?”

  “You know I’m here, Chief.”

  “In your real voice, Cooper.”

  “Aye, here, Chief.”

  Ophelia dropped her chin toward her chest and exhaled pure frustration.

  “Sorry,” Jake Cooper said. “I get nervous when facing an alien battlecruiser that wasn’t supposed to be here.”

  “It isn’t a battlecruiser,” she said. “Cochran, sound off.”

 
“Here,” Cochran said. “I’m more worried about those buggers chasing the battlecruiser.”

  “Not a battlecruiser, people,” Ophelia said. “Cawdron?”

  “Ready to be famous, Chief.”

  “Tchaikovsky? Tchaikovsky? Tchaikovsky?”

  The Russian looked into the camera — seemingly straight at Jena — then Ophelia. “Oh, sure. I’m like totally down with this.” His California drawl defied his obvious heritage and was a decent imitation of Cooper’s real voice.

  Jena took a deep breath, held it, then released it in a controlled, focused manner before continuing. “All right. Here is the situation. We are being approached by an unknown ship that has refused to answer our hails. A swarm of smaller unknowns has left the surface of Klekemac and may or may not be pursuing the unknown, non-military, definitely-not-a-battlecruiser vessel.”

  She paused.

  “Small Ships will deploy and hold in a defensive spherical perimeter around the Darklady. Marines, prepare to be boarded and stop cluttering up the comm channels with your well-meant, but not funny, jokes.”

  “Roger that,” Wing Commander Kern said.

  “Roger,” Security Chief Ophelia Denton said.

  “Crikey! Look at the size of that not-a-battlecruiser,” First Lieutenant Jake Cooper said.

  A vibration went through ship. Jena quickly checked each of her officers and scientists as alarm spread across their faces. There was surprising solidarity in moments of panic.

  Starships of the FCF didn’t suffer random vibrations.

  Dr. Cook spoke. “The Darklady was designed to use dark matter when we find it in the correct form.”

  The rest of the crew wasn’t supposed to know that, thought Jena.

  “I think she is reacting to the approaching vessel. That behemoth is not a warship or an exploration craft, it’s a freighter full of Usable Dark Matter.”

  Twelve standard days earlier…

  Captain Jena Morrison-Diablo took her time with the systems checks—computer diagnostics represented with graphs, charts, picture arrays, keyboard vibrations, and concise lines of meaningful text.