That was why the soldier had stepped forward and volunteered, even when others more capable and combat trained were available. Because he knew, deep down, that to truly crack the tunnel vision that had become this peoples’ out of control fury and permanently resolve the situation would require much more than brute force. Around these stars, after all, there had always been no shortage of force and it had solved nothing. What was needed for this supposedly unsolvable puzzle would require the trained mind of a scientist, along with a thorough, close-up analysis of the Clan structures, traditions and culture. He also needed to know precisely how they constructed devices capable of destroying whole stars.
Only after accumulating more information would he and his allies have a chance to put a stop to this unending madness… to liberate millions and put a halt to further use of ‘the weapon’.
This was why he had volunteered, even knowing the dangers he would face, the trauma he must endure and the atrocities he would be witness to. He voluntarily left the comfort and safety of his adopted home world in order to reach out and try to deliver the same gift that had been offered to him by others after his home was destroyed – freedom from persecution and a life where he and his loved ones could feel safe. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, and yet the soldier had made it anyway. Never in his life had he thought for even a moment, in those first cautious days after his own world Earth was destroyed in a massive nuclear war, that he would soon encounter something even more evil… something darker and worse. Therefore he had prepared himself for the trials ahead and committed himself to discovering a successful solution to a war that, left unaltered, would inevitably end in the mass extinction of everyone still living in the fourth spiral arm of this galaxy.
Although the soldier had allies, people who were just as dedicated to helping him with his lonely quest, those people were located very far from here at the moment. The brain implant and other equipment in his possession offered him the edge he would need while working alone. It was something that he could rely upon to keep him safe and alive long enough to learn what he needed to know, even here in the midst of constant danger. Despite these advantages, along with his larger than normal knowledge of these people, their technology and history was extremely limited. Information regarding this humanoid race had historically been gleaned carefully, mostly by passive sensor observation and distant telescopes situated on far away worlds that simply couldn’t penetrate the residual dust and gas clouds from thousands upon thousands of nebulae… the leftovers from stars long since dead. Those aliens who first discovered this war had already hesitated to act for countless centuries, afraid to get involved and fearful of an intervention on their part causing the war to expand far beyond the fourth spiral arm… maybe even beyond this galaxy entirely and into others.
The man lying next to the soldier groaned in agony, and he noticed that a stray bullet or piece of shrapnel had somehow pierced the other man’s body armor, tearing into vulnerable flesh. Exhaling with disgust, the soldier rolled onto his knees and rose to his feet. He selected a med-kit from one of the emergency slots on the corridor wall, noticing as he did so that virtually all of the other openings were empty. Food, medicine and uncontaminated water – the most valuable resources in this war – were the ones that were usually the toughest to find. With his mind directly linked to the implant database, the language of the Crasel was as easy for the soldier to speak as his own. The critically injured man next to him was also trying to rise, but the soldier stopped him with a reassuring hand to his shoulder.
“Rest for now,” he suggested in the local dialect of his former vessel’s crew. “Rest, friend.”
He removed the snaps holding the med-kit closed and opened the lid, groaning at what he saw there. All of the disinfectant bottles were empty and the bandages were either contaminated with dust and other filth or stained with blood, having already been used at least once. Anonymity was a key component to the soldier’s eventual success, and yet he decided to risk exposing himself on this occasion. Swearing under his breath, he tossed aside the useless med-kit and slapped his inner left thigh with the palm of one hand. An invisibility field concealing his personal, portable emergency supplies flickered with blue electricity and then faded, exposing the valuable equipment. Choosing a metal instrument similar to a scissors, the soldier inserted the tip through the hole in his colleague’s armor and began searching for the metal hiding somewhere within the wound. Fresh blood gushed up from the opening and ran down the body armor, drizzling onto the already grimy deck plating.
“Mott’s Ghost but that hurts,” declared the injured man with a dark chuckle, the whites of his eyes standing out from the charcoal stains on his sweat-soaked, unshaven skin. “What must be done must be done, though, right?” The dark irises of his eyes focused on the soldier’s own. “I can’t be dying before my time, can I?”
“You might anyway,” quipped the soldier tersely, using one hand to retrieve a roll of clean white cloth from his personal first aid kit. He decided to minimize risk and lie about the clean condition of his medical supplies. “The shape these bandages are in, it will be difficult to keep infection out of your wound.” As he spoke the words, he held up a small cylinder concealed in the palm of his hand. It was filled with a complex antiseptic and painkiller. He risked a quick spray into the wound before picking up the scissors and resuming the search for the stubbornly embedded metal.
“When we allow ourselves to get captured, we must learn to do without.” The injured man’s lips were thin and pale as he tripped awkwardly through the words between sharp stabs of pain. “Also, I think that bleeding to death will take me to the hereafter much more quickly than infection,” he decided grimly. “I’ll take my chances with you and… aaaaaghhhh!!!!”
The rest of the sentence died in his throat behind a prolonged scream as the soldier finally located the metal. He used the medical scissors to grip it firmly and then yanked it out of the man’s left breast. For a moment, the injured man blacked out and the soldier gratefully nodded with renewed confidence. He thoroughly sprayed the open wound with more antiseptic, followed by a heavy covering of what appeared to be an expanding white gel that hardened quickly into a temporary bandage. After that, the soldier took a few moments to wrap the entire wound with white cloth and tie everything off before replacing the supplies in his medical kit. Once it was re-attached to his thigh, he slapped it lightly once more to restore its invisibility shield. The small bundle turned briefly transparent and then vanished, once again hidden from normal sight.
There was a long silence that followed, lasting until the severely wounded man recovered consciousness. Making good use of the time, the soldier rubbed the dirty grit from his hands and arms onto the bandages, gradually making their top sides resemble the useless counterparts from the ship’s med-kit. Then the soldier leaned back against the corridor wall and sat patiently waiting for almost fifteen minutes, until the eyes of the other finally flickered open once more. The wounded Crasel obviously felt better, because he promptly extended his hand and patted the soldier gratefully on the arm. “My name is Tran Wuu,” he offered gratefully, grimacing from residual pain. “I do not recognize you. Tell me, how are you known to others?”
“Me?” the soldier responded with a snide laugh, dropping the metal fragments onto the deck plating and replacing the ship’s useless med-kit in its wall slot. He had been told to speak normally, even when using proper names and places familiar to him. As long as he behaved normally, the implant’s language converter was supposedly able to handle anything. “My name is Adam,” he stated informatively. “Adam Roh.”
PROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Chapter I: Long Distance Allies
Planet Tranquility in the Proteus Galaxy…
(Ten years after the Pathfinder Project)
Dusky orange rays from the morning sun were just beginning to crawl above the rolling green hills on the horizon when former Captain Dennis Ka
ufield arrived at the east wing of the capitol building. After more than a decade, virtually all of the refugees from war-torn Earth were still working hard to build new cities and gratefully accept the fresh start offered to them by the aliens living in the Proteus Galaxy. Many of the smaller towns and villages already had names – most of them copies or slightly altered versions of their counterparts left behind. The people living on Tranquility had proven to be quite resilient, determined to retain as many of the traditions from their past lives as possible. Kaufield had been pleasantly surprised to see national pride preserved as well, although many of America’s traditional allies were much more eager to work closely with the capital city than those who had once lived in countries where the United States was less popular.
A decade was not a long time, especially for those who were completely uprooted and left with no choice but to transplant their families onto a world never before charted. There was palpable friction between many leaders in the new societies that were forming and evolving with each passing day and yet Kaufield remained fiercely optimistic. The uneasy peace alliances were holding and might not last, but for now everyone was too busy building thousands of new communities that would provide enough food and water to sustain them. War and all of its horrors, for the moment, was much too recent and its consequences burned too deeply into memories for anyone to be worried about fighting. The planet Tranquility was truly a gift – a resource rich, habitable planet nearly forty percent larger than Earth.
The aliens from the Proteus galaxy offered more than just land, however. They were sharing everything acquired from their long-term study of the universe surrounding them, including at least some of their advanced technology. Perhaps in the future, more would be offered. And as expected, more than a few of the refugees evacuated from Earth had indeed turned out to be cloned members of the infamous Brotherhood of the Dragon or former sympathizers – the underground terrorist organization whose infiltration of Earth’s governments led directly to its eventual destruction.
At the moment, Kaufield didn’t really care who was still loyal to the Brotherhood and who was not. Everyone who fled the nuclear fires still burning on Earth was treated the same way – if you behaved and contributed to bettering the community around you, things would be fine. Those who violated that policy or tried to prey upon weaker individuals were turned over to Noah’s people and relocated to other worlds. There were millions of habitable worlds in the Proteus Galaxy, some considerably less hospitable than others and many containing populations that were equally intolerant. Thus the people who wanted to ‘stir the pot’ or settle old scores with adversaries were promptly identified and transferred to a planet where the simple act of survival was a bit more… challenging. There were several major bouts of violence on Tranquility during those first few years, but after news of the consequences for such actions leaked out to the general public, the majority of the planet’s troublemakers ceased making waves almost overnight.
For a moment Kaufield simply stood there, facing east and letting the warm light from the morning sun heat the skin on his face. The top hemisphere of the large, golden-orange orb was clearly visible, its rays piercing a lengthy row of thin clouds in the distance. His thoughts raced almost daily now with thoughts of the numerous responsibilities so suddenly placed on his shoulders, a burden that had only escalated with time. After starting out as the Captain of the Explorer Class vessel Pathfinder, he had safely led its passengers and crew to a new home in the Proteus Galaxy, one so far away from Earth’s solar system that the distance was nearly incalculable. During the journey, he had assumed leadership of the vessel’s governing Council and those duties had since expanded to include representation of all of the evacuated refugees.
The Council was still the top rung on the governing ladder, bridging the gap between the friendly alien Noah, his colleagues and local city councils and ruling bodies. Most of the larger governments were still in the process of forming, so there was certainly no shortage of tasks on the daily ‘to do’ list. For a while, Kaufield had nearly lost himself in all of the change and responsibility that had come with the mass evacuation of Earth’s survivors. For one thing, the planet Tranquility boasted a day length that totaled a whopping thirty-one hours. Splitting the extra time between work, rest and other personal endeavors had proven to be a challenge all by itself. Also there were the constant requests from smaller communities where people lacked immediate necessities: food, clean water, clothing or the other basic necessity in life – shelter.
During that toughest first year, health concerns had been the major, seemingly never ending priority since the vast majority of those relocated were injured in one form or another. Fortunately, Noah’s people were also experts in all things medical, including the swift treatment of radiation exposure. The longer day made it easier to pause and relax once in a while. Workaholics everywhere were learning new ways to cope on a continual basis, many of them as determined and committed to rebuilding what was so suddenly lost back on Earth as Kaufield himself.
He smiled wryly, finally turning and entering the east wing of the capitol. Its lobby was vast and spacious, constructed in a traditional style that stretched upward four floors to a peaked, sun-soaked skylight. The far wall contained a series of transport niches for those who were in a hurry or simply didn’t like stairs. Each niche allowed for one person at a time to enter, and was neatly labeled at the top in at least six languages. In the center of the lobby, a dozen potted trees surrounded a larger, circular transport niche capable of moving larger groups of people, cargo and furniture to other sites within the large building.
Kaufield headed directly for the transport alcove labeled “4-SCI”… a clear enough instruction letting him know that its destination site was the Science Center located on the 4th floor. There was a soft popping sound as he stepped into it and passed through the invisible, Person-to-Point transport field within. He felt no pain and noticed nothing other than the scenery around him, which instantly changed as his physical body emerged on the 4th floor. The Science Lab was circular in shape and very large, with other transport niches ringing more than half of the perimeter. The sign above the niche he emerged from read “1-ATR” since anyone who entered it from this end would swiftly receive a reverse trip back to the 1st floor atrium. The most amazing part of living on Tranquility, so far, had proven to be a closer look at some of the mind blowing technology available to the citizens living in the Proteus galaxy.
They weren’t sharing everything for reasons that were blatantly obvious, but Kaufield was truly impressed with what he had seen thus far.
As leader of his people’s ruling Council, Dennis was okay with Noah’s policy of slow assimilation. The battle scarred refugees from Earth had already suffered plenty of culture shock. In fact, many of those lost and lonely citizens from the Sol system would never be the same, even with the help of sophisticated medical treatments far beyond anything Earth medicine alone could achieve. He pondered the matter of all those people for a moment, honest citizens so suddenly displaced from a bombed out home. There was hope for everyone, thanks primarily to the safe haven that the Pathfinder had discovered on its risky journey out of the Milky Way. Looking back, it all seemed so easy now. Back then, however, the decisions facing them had been monstrous and fraught with potentially devastating consequences – especially during those first few days.
He studied the main work area, much of it the Pathfinder’s equipment, consisting mostly of computers and their newly projected, high resolution visual displays that floated above working spaces in thin air. Half a dozen massive, various-sized telescopes hung from the ceiling, pointed up toward the heavens above after having been moved directly from the starship’s observatory. The lab was pretty empty at this time of day, but the people Kaufield needed to see most were already busily at work.
“How are things going, Thomas?” he asked his long-term friend and colleague, Thomas Roh.
The young scientist whose work on t
he Pathfinder’s CAS drive had ended up saving countless lives glanced up at him with a warm smile of recognition. Now nearly forty-one years old, he still looked to Kaufield like a skinny kid. Oh, it was true that there were a few gray hairs here and there to be found in that mop of dark brown hair of his. He also had wrinkly “crow’s feet” at the corners of his eyes these days, especially when he laughed. Thomas Roh was every bit the ‘little brother’ that Adam still called him, currently leaning back in a reclining seat that was surrounded by a variety of medical and scanning technology. Devices of all sorts were blinking colored lights or humming, and a protective, retractable swing-arm with a work table was currently in place over the scientist’s abdomen.
“We have made considerable progress,” Thomas informed him, pointing toward a high-tech graphic display floating above his chest. On it, dozens of constantly changing statistics scrolled by on the right while a detailed schematic of the implant attached to his brain was clearly visible at left. “I can now fully communicate with Adam,” he continued, smiling almost triumphantly. “It took most of the night to complete all the fine tuning, but Noah’s people sure know what they’re doing.”
“That’s good to hear.” Dennis nodded gratefully at the two female scientists standing next to the chair. Each of them held a different device, and they were both clearly monitoring the functionality of the enhancements recently completed on Thomas Roh’s brain. “I’m glad that you will be able to keep track of his movements on a full time basis.”
The Pathfinder Trilogy Page 40