Farnham's Legend: The beginning of the X-Universe saga (X Games Book 1)

by Helge T. Kautz

  Taking a deep breath he made an effort to relax and assess the situation. It was a Terraformer ship, alright, but that didn't change the fact that it was severely damaged and very obviously non-functional. It was crucial that they remained with the object and finished the mission as planned. Now more than ever. At all costs they needed to find out where the ship had come from, if it actually was capable of inter-stellar travel without jump-gates and, most importantly, what it was up to. Worst case scenario? A scout for a huge fleet of the Terraformers coming to finish off what they'd started more than five centuries ago and extinguish humanity for good.

  "It is disabled, isn't it?" Ayse asked rhetorically, seeking re-assurance. John did not answer, understanding her fear. It was a fear whose roots were deep, and real.

  They looked at each other for a moment; then they both sealed their helmets simultaneously, as if they were following some telepathic command whispering in their heads.

  Even though facing the ultimate trauma of humankind, both pilots stayed extraordinarily calm. Ayse's voice was firm and in control as she briefed the USC Eldridge, while John started preparing the electromagnetic impulse decelerator. What would happen when the device was activated? It would scramble and fry the electronics of any ship whose components were not shielded to military specifications. Presumably, the same applied to alien vessels. The Terraformer ship was heavily damaged and inactive – the odds on an unpleasant surprise were long.

  The USC Eldridge gave the go-ahead and Ayse held her breath as the magnetic fields of the impulse decelerator seized the Terraformer craft.

  Imperceptibly at first and over long minutes, the rotation slowed – while Ayse's mind started circling in on the consequences of their discovery. In the centre of her thoughts was her beloved, Gisbert, a marine biologist. He was down in the floating gardens of the Pacific Ocean, working as a supervisor for one of the gigantic submarine plantations. She hoped being apart for so long wasn't too painful for him, but he was an emotional person and a romantic, much more so than she was. This discovery, she knew, meant she would not be returning to Earth anytime soon. He would find that hard but she realised she would not. She loved Gisbert so much but if there was something threatening Earth, threatening him, her place was up here, doing something about it.

  He probably would not understand, he might even question her commitment but she had made her decision. She would stay with the USC, even if it drove a wedge between them. Space was the only place she could make a difference.

  Ayse wondered if John had similar thoughts, but for the moment he was completely focused on the controls of the impulse decelerator as he fought to stop the rotation to allow the salvage clamps to get a purchase.

  After five more minutes, and further millions of kilometres in the wrong direction, the damaged vessel stopped rotating. It just hung there, apparently motionless in front of the Rii-4, leaving the two pilots staring at one half of the Terraformer insignia. It was a symbol that used to be a sign for prosperity, for a new beginning. Now all it conjured was terror and repugnance.

  The Rii-4 juddered as the big salvage clamps snaked from the bow, lending it a grotesque appearance. The clamps were on the same axis as the propulsion system of the Rii-4, allowing the ship to move salvaged objects by pushing rather than towing them. In less serious situations Ayse referred to this as the 'octopus manoeuvre'. This time, however, she did not feel like joking. The alien ship was too terrifying.

  A brief blue flare indicated the shields had been deactivated. Almost reluctantly, she watched the tentacles wrap around the body of the Terraformer ship and pull it close, like a mother reclaiming her lost child.

  Gisbert. One day they planned to have their own children.

  Her nape hairs rose as the sensors registered a rapid increase in the Terraformer's energy output, from zero to the tera-watt scale in seconds. An electric blue beam arced through the salvage clamps, a hot knife through soft butter.

  "Computer, shields!" Ayse yelled as John powered up the propulsion system.

  The beam slashed a deep scar in the nose of the Rii-4, as fast and precise as a scalpel in the hands of an insane surgeon. The terrible roar of escaping oxygen drowned the alarms as the laser sliced into the cockpit.

  Their closed visors saved them from asphyxiation long enough for their internal air supply to cut in, but it was already too late. The bow and cockpit absorbed the brunt of the attack but the blinding coronal discharge seared through their terror-clenched eyelids, searing their retinas.

  Belatedly the thrusters came on-line and the salvage vessel began to turn, slowly, then quick enough to force the crew back into their seats. Torn by relief and panic Ayse prayed for deliverance from this place, this machine, but as the ship turned it impaled itself further on the beam forcing it deep into the hull, slicing towards the reactor.

  The last thing she heard was a vicious hissing that was transferred by the vibrations of the hull into her helmet. "Gisbert!" A last desperate scream she would never finish.

  Upon her arrival four days later, the USC Eldridge found only wreckage, a few fragments drifting through space. The Terraformer ship fared little better, broken into two big and several small and easily salvageable fragments that posed no further threat. They would be taken to the far side of Earth's moon for further investigation.

  At the same time, far away on planet Earth, a young man in an aqua-suit sat on a solitary rock in the empty expanse of the Pacific Ocean, staring into a blood-red sunset. It came from nowhere, a sudden fear that gripped with the cold certainty of premonition, leaving him burned out and empty in the fading light. A single tear ran down his cheek.

  A heavy storm was coming, he was certain of it.

  "Ayse," he whispered, "I miss you so much." He stood up, put on his diving gear and slipped into the water. The ocean swallowed him in an instant, as if he'd never been there. Then, the shadows of the night swept over the lonely rock.

  CHAPTER 2

  And on the countless other planets that may circle other suns, is there life also? Is extraterrestrial life, if it exists, based on the same organic molecules as life on Earth? Do the beings of other worlds look much like life on Earth? Or are they stunningly different - other adaptations to other environments? What else is possible?

  Carl Sagan

  "Cosmos"

  "Sissandras!"

  Nopileos' voice rattled through the old corridors of the burnt-out Boron spiral station, fading into the distance as an eldritch whisper.

  "Oh, rotten egg", Nopileos cursed quietly as his Egg-Brother vanished behind the next turn without responding. Why was it so difficult to have some fun or adventure with Sissandras or anybody older than four suns? He gathered his possessions from the decking, cramming his credit card, comm-link, scale scraper and nutri-packs into an orange-blue polymeric bag with careless haste, before following his Egg-Brother. Only after the command centre door sealed behind him did he realise that he had forgotten to put the station in hibernation mode. The power reserves were not unlimited and he did not want it to be detected by every ship that passed within a dozen parsecs. A little disgruntled, he pivoted smartly on a clawed heel and re-entered the command centre.

  The large circular hall offered a spectacularly panoramic view of space, but the centre was in a pitiful condition. Most of the consoles, control panels and equipment were destroyed, and the subtle shades of ocean blue favoured by the aquatic Boron as decor, disfigured by carbon scoring. The station had been ransacked and almost everything in working order disassembled and removed. Probably sold, Nopileos thought. What else?

  A few of the consoles, however, were still functioning.

  Dark blue or magenta backlit displays, Boron colours for 'Optimal' and 'Alert', indicated, in the shared Argon script, that the life support systems were functioning just above minimal levels. Considering the station had been donated to him it was in good condition!

  "Opportunities that provide good short-term profits often prove to be uneconomi
c in the long run." Sissandras had objected. Nopileos chose to ignore his advice. He had been given the co-ordinates of the abandoned station by an ancient Boron who asked for nothing in return save that, "You never forget your Boron friends and allies." He did not elaborate on this wish.

  Nopileos ordered the station computer to switch to stand-by. All computers he had dealt with in his young life had a verbal interface. This one was no exception but understood only the Boron tongue. The station, he realised, must pre-date the establishment of Argon as standard language for transactions between the two species, and that was something that happened long before the Teladi joined the Commonwealth of Planets in Jazura 563. He was forced to enter the stand-by commands using one of the few working consoles by hand, not an easy task for a clawed species, hacking away on buttons and input fields made for soft Boron tentacles. He hoped Sissandras had not been angry enough to leave without him. Shutting down the systems required a few Mizuras, ample time for his Egg-Brother to develop all manner of silly notions.

  As the station deactivated, section by section, Nopileos noticed his brother's AutoBroker sitting forlornly on one of the carbon-streaked consoles. Was it, he wondered, left behind deliberately? Nopileos took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. It was a mundane piece of technology yet Sissandras had spent every spare Mizura during the past four and a half suns developing and improving his new trade software. Nopileos, on the other hand, had made more use of his comm-link and spent egg-free Tazuras visiting planets and trading stations, even pirate bases and weapon factories, building contacts with potentially useful people. While this was nothing out of the ordinary for a Teladian merchant saurian, it was certainly unusual for a Teladi aged only 11 suns, with at least one more sun of schooling at the prestigious Breeding Complex in Company Pride ahead of him.

  His latest and so far greatest coup was the well targeted rumour of a 'Profiteroid', an asteroid consisting of more than 90% Nividium. He heard the story from a drunk Argon pirate and of course, did not believe a word of it. However, spreading the legend through his network of greedy, profit-oriented Teladi contacts amused him. His scale crest flexed inwards happily at the memory. On the spur of the moment he ordered Sissandras' Auto-Broker to put in some extra-hours researching the Nividium industry. With the last active systems off-line, Nopileos picked up his bag and followed his Egg-Brother back to the shuttle.

  "You know, my colleague", Sissandras began, as the black Boron spiral slowly faded into the stars. "I wish you displayed a bit more enthusiasm regarding the goals of the Teladi Corporation."

  "Oh, but I do take these things seriously, brother," Nopileos replied, "very much so!" His scale crest itched a little, but he restrained himself. "Take a look around you" – he gestured exuberantly towards the windows and Sissandras' eyes reflexively followed – "What do you think is out there, brother?"

  "Profit," Sissandras replied automatically and turned back to the shuttle controls.

  "Unknown planets that no Teladi has ever set their claws on before," Nopileos continued, "races we haven't encountered yet …"

  "Sources of profit," Sissandras insisted.

  "The secret of the jump-gates!"

  "What is so mysterious about them?" Sissandras snapped. "You fly through them and crack you're at your destination."

  Nopileos' nostrils flared indignantly. "Brother, your imagination is frozen somewhere in the neighbourhood of absolute zero."

  Sissandras adjusted the course of the small shuttle craft, plotting a faster and safer route back to the hatchery before he answered.

  "There is no shame in that and please stop calling me brother, colleague."

  Nopileos did not answer, instead he sat back and closed his eyes in reflection. No wonder his race, of all those in the Commonwealth of Planets, were labelled grumpy, slow and boring. It was an attitude that had led the Teladi to be the last of the races to join this Federation, an organisation they arrogantly referred to as the Profit Guild, reducing the aspirations of those hundreds of billions of beings to the material level of the Teladi. Credits left, income right, resources behind; the only adventure Teladi allowed themselves was the annual tax return. Excitement for the whole family, he thought, no, the whole 'division' he corrected himself - once every sun.

  The Teladi race was considered slow and unintuitive by nature, but Nopileos doubted it. After all, there were Teladi adventurers - soldiers, explorers, and scientists. Admittedly there was not0 exactly an over-supply of these types, and most were just interested in increasing their own wealth, but they proved that a Teladi could possess more talents than those required to make credits. They could be more than just an excellent broker, merchant or company secretary!

  And of all the obstacles between him and a life of adventure was of course, his heritage, embodied in his name: Isemados Sibasomos Nopileos IV. Being the grandchild of Isemados, the great CEO of the Teladi Company, bestowed many advantages but the name also came with a shipload of duties, and worst of all, expectations.

  Certainly his Egg-Elders were surprised, although not excited, that he was the brightest and most successful student the hatchery of Company Pride had ever produced, easily outstripping his also very gifted Egg-Brother Sissandras. Despite a tendency to sleep through the classes, his nature could not help but to disrupt the lessons. He knew the subjects and tested his teachers beyond their limits with searching questions. Sometime during his fifth or sixth sun his Egg-Comrades had started to avoid him. Before that, they had tried several times to play practical jokes on him.

  Teladi jokes.

  Nopileos' scale crest popped up in amusement when he remembered how often these attempts had failed. Once they had even glued his credit card with Quantum Adhesion Glue to the school bench while he was sleeping. While every other Teladi would have been outraged he was simply amused and asked if they expected him to take both credit card and the school bench to the bank?

  "Tss … tsssk", Nopileos hissed as the subdued hum of the engines lulled him into unconsciousness

  CHAPTER 3

  Provided that the laws of mathematics are related to reality, they are not reliable. And if they are reliable, they aren't related to reality.

  Albert Einstein

  The youthful-looking man whistled a good-humoured tune as he stepped out of the bungalow that had been his temporary home for the last few days. He wore the light blue uniform of the United Space Command, a stylised version of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man prominent on the right shoulder. The USC's proud symbol stood for the peaceful exploration of space in the name of all humankind, but also for alertness and security within the confines of the solar system.

  Despite the two-day growth and the wrinkles around his eyes that hinted either at a couple of additional years, or of nights with little sleep, there was a spring in his step as he moved from the shadow of his doorway onto the rough stone pavement. It lay already coated with a film of red sand blown in on the morning breeze. Bright sunlight left him suddenly dazzled, blinking and choking back a sneeze the light had tickled from his nose.

  "Bless you Kyle!"

  Kyle William Brennan turned around, rubbing his nose.

  Elena Kho laughed as she leaned against the doorframe of her bungalow. Unlike Kyle, she wore clothing suited to the coming warmth of an Australian winter's day; sandals, fringed denim shorts and a check blouse, knotted above her waist to display her firm stomach. "Did you sleep well Captain?" she asked, shielding her eyes against the already fierce sun to look out over the huge salt lake. Water came to Lake Eyre only a few times a century and this winter was one of those times. She felt privileged to witness the terrific spectacle of uncounted thousands of native birds, predominantly pelicans and flamingos. They were standing in one-legged groups, jostling for food and competing for mates. A myriad of extravagant courtships splashing water amidst the elegantly displayed plumage. Tentative mock combat filled the air with cacophonous cries, despite the two miles distance between them. It was fortunate for the sleep patterns of
the USC personnel – albeit a little astonishing – that the birds for the most part respected the night and remained silent after sunset.

  "Thank you, Major," Kyle responded, as Elena moved closer. Kyle whistled appreciatively, openly running his eyes over her. It was expected, and although not completely serious, Elena knew she was indeed quite a sight. Standing five feet seven inches, she wasn't exactly small. Tanned, lithe and lissom with the well-defined muscle-tone of someone who kept in shape, she was definitely not one to be classified as a "defenceless little woman". Her rounded face was framed by shoulder-length black hair, smooth and thick, gleaming in the morning sun. The most remarkable thing about her was certainly her dark brown almond eyes. Irresistibly teeming with energy, curiosity and the pure joy of life that she held within. Elena was of Asian origin, almost stereotypically so, but for her greater stature.

  "You're a philanderer," Elena ventured, - Lin to those of her friends that knew her middle name: Lindisfarne. She grinned as she gave him a fierce hug. She had only arrived at SPAARF, the Lake Eyre Special Project and Advanced Astronomical Research Facility, late the previous evening. The long briefing had left her just enough energy to spare Kyle a short greeting before seeking out her new accommodation and sleep, deep, dreamless and immediate. "Man, it's been a long time," she said as she stepped back and returned his appraising look. Kyle William Brennan, 'Billy', if you wanted to get his goat, had dark hair, cut military short, blue-grey eyes and the smile of a young rogue. The word 'chiselled' could have been invented for his chin and the uniform coverall did little to conceal his broad shouldered, slightly stocky physique, standing a shade taller than six foot.

  Elena tried to imitate his adoring whistle, producing only a tuneless puff that dissolved into chuckling laughter. "I'm afraid I'm never going to get that." She smiled.