Like Aahil, long black hair hung down their backs and each had the same bluish skin tone. “We are the Blues,” Aahil said. “This gathering is the Council of One. The elders of the Blues.”
Boomer glanced around the circle. They didn’t seem all that elderly … most looked about her father’s age—some even younger. She looked back at Aahil and gasped again. He was now wrinkled and silver-haired … very old. Bent and hunched over, the weight of many years behind him, he reached out a withered claw of a hand and gestured toward the council. “They could look more like this …”
The entire council, in the fraction of a second it took her to glance around the circle, had changed their appearance. They were children now—about her age. Bemused, they smiled.
But sadness pulled heavily on her heart and she didn’t understand why. Unlike Mollie, she didn’t think of herself as particularly emotional. She thought of herself more like a young warrior than a typical little girl. But in that very moment she was filled with dread … a despair she’d never imagined existed. She stared back at Aahil and wiped tears from her cheeks. He’d turned again to his former age. He rubbed at the scruff of his beard, his eyes displaying a mix of compassion and something else … understanding.
“Listen to me carefully, Boomer … terrible things are about to happen. What you are feeling is anguish … the residual effects of an unimaginable evil, emanating from within our own universe, our own galaxy. The Dark has awakened.”
“What does that mean … what’s the Dark?”
“Your people refer to them as the Sahhrain.” Aahil paused for a moment, his expression serious—he leaned back and his face fell into the dark shadows. “The Sahhrain are a superstitious, and patient, people … they have waited thousands of years for what is occurring right now. For the coming of their true master … the one from an alternate realm that will deliver them to a promised afterlife. Know that the Blues do not share these beliefs.”
“Is the afterlife like heaven?” Boomer asked.
Aahil abruptly shook his head. “No … nothing like that. More like the opposite. This is a people that prefer misery. Perhaps not as much for themselves, but certainly to all others. Inflicting pain and suffering brings them closer to their master. The concept of happiness is insulting … vile, to the Sahhrain. There is no place in the universe for this emotion. The day of reckoning is now upon them, foreseen thousands of years ago. To that end, total annihilation of life … all worlds within this realm are to be systematically destroyed. It is their charge.”
“How do you destroy a whole universe … isn’t that impossible?”
“Their master has the key … a key he will bring with him when he arrives.”
“But won’t they, the Sahhrain, die too … do they want to die?”
“They don’t see it that way, Boomer. Dying is a human concept … no, they think of it as a cleansing. A necessary cleansing before they can move on to Ahmm Topor … the miserable purgatory that awaits them.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do? I don’t understand. You should be telling this to my father. He can fight them. He can fight anyone.”
“Your father can do many things. He is a strong man and, like you, a warrior for good. But to go up against the Dark, the Sahhrain, will take far more than your advanced star ships and powerful weaponry.”
“What will it take?” Boomer asked.
“The ability to fight them at their own level; to move across rooms in the blink of an eye; to enter into an opponent’s consciousness—see what they see. And, in the case of the Sahhrain, to fill the darkness with light.”
“Could I do those things?”
Aahil looked at Boomer with compassion in his eyes, then over to the Council of One. Boomer watched as some shook their heads no while others nodded assent, albeit hesitantly.
“It will be entirely up to you, my young friend. To enter into the training, the mastery of Kahill Callan, is no small matter. In fact, failure to complete even the first level … would result in your death.”
“I wouldn’t fail,” Boomer said. “Wait … how many levels are there?”
Aahil continued to stare at her. “It is time for you to return to your life aboard your ship.”
“But when will I return? How will I know what—?”
Boomer’s words hung in the air. She felt a subtle breeze and a presence behind her, even before she turned around. But nothing was there. Perplexed, she turned back to Aahil. He was no longer alone. A woman was seated next to him—her eyes unwavering from Boomer’s. Boomer fidgeted, not liking her intense scrutiny. Why’s everyone so serious here?
The woman spoke, “Your training has already begun, Boomer: The first stages of Kahill Callan. Rest assured, you won’t be alone … in fact, I will be with you.”
Right then Boomer noticed the woman was wearing a Minian spacer’s jumpsuit. Confused, Boomer opened her mouth to speak, but no words came to her.
“For you, Boomer, this is all new. But not for us … we have awaited your arrival for some time now,” Aahil said. “This is Capri Sharan, but you, and everyone else aboard your ship, will know her as Briar Mansfield. Boomer, the Sahhrain are stirring … like an awakening beast from a deep sleep … and the Sahhrain are hungry.”
“Hungry for what?”
Aahil continued to stare intently at Boomer; then, letting his eyes move to the other council members and to Capri Sharan, he replied, “Our very souls.”
Chapter 13
Sol System
The Minian, Medical
_________________
Jason was furious as he stared down into the small observation window at Jack.
“He’s unconscious, but there doesn’t appear to be anything, at least physiologically, wrong with him. He’ll most likely awaken sooner rather than later,” Dira said. She stood at the MediPod control panel and did something to cause the MediPod, like a clamshell, to slowly separate and open.
They had missed their scheduled departure, voyaging through a newly formed interchange wormhole. Not that their delay compared to the fact that Boomer was missing. Jason looked around the Medical facility’s vacant MediPods, and into its adjoining compartment of empty beds. He answered an incoming NanoCom call, bringing two fingers up to his ear.
“Go for Captain.”
“Did I not mention the situation on Trom has turned ugly?” the admiral asked, irritated.
“Seems we have a crewmember who’s gone astray. As soon as we find—”
The admiral cut him off: “Well, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the crewmember needs to be disciplined. This is too important … Damn it!”
“We’re on it. Truth is, if it were anyone else, I’d have left ’em behind.”
“Who is—”
“I’ll give you one guess,” Jason said.
“Boomer,” the admiral replied.
“Bingo. Problem is, the AI’s not detecting her presence on board … obviously, that’s making me more than a little nervous.” Jason’s eyes focused on Dira, who looked back at him sympathetically.
“So my granddaughter’s missing? Where the hell is her drone … Dewdrop or Teardrop?”
“It’s Dewdrop and it’s still in our quarters. She left it behind when she went to work in the Zoo. And before you say anything, yes … we suspect she’s still within one of the habitats. That’s where we found Jack, the caretaker, unconscious. But her life readings aren’t showing up there, either. In fact, the other habitat we suspect she might be in shows no life readings whatsoever.” Jason noticed Jack starting to come around. “I’ll get back to you, Admiral.” He cut the connection and moved closer to the one occupied MediPod. Jack’s eyes were open and Dira was giving him some water.
“Where’s my daughter, Jack?”
Jack pushed Dira’s hand away and leaned up on one elbow. “She’s not in the Zoo? The last thing I remember, she was mopping the deck; then playing with Alice … things beyond that are hazy.”
“We were lo
oking for the two of you. By chance, Ricket found you.”
“Where … where was I?”
“Lying face down, in a habitat close to the portal window.”
“I don’t remember.” Jack rubbed his eyes, looking confused. Jason felt his irritation growing to the point he could imagine himself pulling Jack out of the MediPod by the lapels of his stupid green coveralls and—
“Dad?”
Jason spun around to see Boomer, standing next to a woman he’d never seen before.
“Boomer! Where have you been?”
Boomer and the woman exchanged a furtive glance and the woman replied, “Captain, in all likelihood, this is my fault.”
“And just who the hell are you?” he asked ill-humoredly.
“I am Petty Officer Briar Mansfield. I’m the replacement … here to watch over Boomer.”
Jason took in her uniform, and some pieces began to fall in place. He assessed the attractive woman standing alongside his daughter. Her reddish brown hair was pulled into a bun at the back of her head. Several strands had escaped and she nervously pushed them behind an ear with long, tapered, fingers. Almost as tall as Jason, Petty Officer Mansfield was slender and angular looking—more runway-model than Naval NCO.
“Where have you been, Boomer?” Jason asked.
Without hesitation, she said, “Briar found me leaving the Zoo … I wanted to show her the habitat … to play with Alice … I’m really sorry, Dad.”
“Once back in the Zoo corridor, the AI informed us where … where to bring her,” the petty officer interjected.
Something didn’t add up, in Jason’s mind—why didn’t the AI know where Boomer was?—but now wasn’t the time to pursue it. “I want that little bundle of trouble watched at all times. If not by you, then by her droid. This ship is beyond immense. Too easy for a ten-year-old to get lost … to get into trouble.”
“I understand, Captain.”
“Can I show her where our quarters are … where she’ll be living, Dad?” Boomer asked, as though nothing had happened.
Jason nodded. “Fine. But I’m not done with this, kiddo. We need to talk later.” He gave them both a stern look and motioned them to be on their way. He watched them leave and turned back to Dira, now helping Jack from the MediPod.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I’ll keep a closer eye on her in the future,” Jack said, contrite.
“Yes, you will. And like you just heard me say, she’s not to be left alone until further notice.”
Jack nodded and walked toward the exit. He slowed and turned back toward them. He shook his head, as if he’d thought better of saying something more, and left.
Now alone, Dira moved to Jason’s side and placed a hand on his arm. She was smiling as she looked up at him. In that moment, the irritation he felt toward Jack and his daughter dissolved. She glanced toward the entrance to Medical and, with a mischievous expression, pulled him closer and kissed him. The next moment, she pushed him away; heading into the adjoining compartment, she asked over her shoulder, “Don’t you have a ship to command, Captain?”
* * *
Jason entered the bridge and headed for the command chair. He noticed Granger and Bristol still working on the communications console—specifically, the interface to the interchange. At least now everything seemed buttoned-up, as no exposed cabling was visible. They were seated and discussing in low tones something they were viewing on a small virtual display.
Ricket entered the bridge, just as Jason took a seat.
“Captain, I believe we have rectified any time-delay issues, calling up an interchange wormhole,” Ricket told him, now standing at his side.
“So what are they doing?” Jason asked, looking over at Bristol and Granger.
“They still believe we’re not taking full advantage of the latest Caldurian code … right now, we’re pretty much back using former old levels of software.”
Jason saw Bristol nervously glance in their direction—what’s wrong with him?
“Fine. But know we can’t afford any problems when it comes to interchange wormhole travel. Thousands of lives hinge on this technology operating flawlessly. I hope they realize the importance of that.”
“If they don’t, I’ll remind them, Captain.”
Jason scowled in Bristol’s direction. “If things are working, they need to stop futzing with it until we return to Jefferson Station and can spend a few days there in maintenance.”
“They know that, Captain. They’re just using this downtime discussing how to avoid a potential problem next time.”
Jason turned to Orion, seated at the tactical station. “The rest of our armada?”
“They’re waiting on us, Cap.”
“Seaman Gordon, have you established new communication with the interchange?”
“Aye, Captain … on your command, I’ll provide the in-and-out coordinates.”
“Do so now, Seaman.”
“Aye, Captain,” Gordon replied.
Jason took in the large, surrounding, three hundred-and-sixty degree virtual display positioned overhead. Though often split into multiple virtual segment-feeds, currently, the display showed one contiguous view of local space. With its high resolution and 3D perspective, to anyone not familiar with advanced Caldurian technology the top of the Minian’s bridge would appear to be a spectacular, wide-open perspective to open space.
“Captain, the interchange’s wormhole is forming thirty-six hundred miles out and coincides with the specified in coordinates,” Seaman Gordon reported.
“Ensign McNeil, please take us out and away from Jefferson Station space. Put us at the mouth of the wormhole coordinates,” Jason said.
“Gunny, we need to assume we’ll be entering into a combat situation with the Pharloms. Inform each of the armada ship commanders to sound battle stations now.”
“Yes, Captain.”
As the seconds passed, the distant interchange-created wormhole began to take shape. Colorful static discharges—like bright bolts of lightning, and reaching miles into space—encircled an oblong, pitch black orifice.
“Gunny, add a logistical view to the display.”
“Yes, Captain.”
A new feed segment came alive on the above display, showing the Earth and the moon, Jefferson Station, as well as the various space platforms. Icons in yellow represented the Minian and other armada vessels. A blue icon, further out in space, indicated the position of the interchange’s new wormhole. Within fifteen seconds, they reached the mouth of the wormhole.
Ensign McNeil turned in his seat and looked toward Jason.
“Go ahead … take us in, Helm.”
Chapter 14
Alchieves System
Planet Trom, Cloud-Port E5926
_________________
“And what are you, the welcoming committee?” Leon asked.
Larkbadder continued attending to a scrape on Hanna’s elbow. He’d cleaned it with water and wrapped it with a clean strip of cloth. “Infections need to be avoided here. As you can imagine, conditions are unsanitary. There are no medications … no treatments, other than the most basic ones,” Larkbadder said, directly to Hanna.
“Thank you,” she replied, touching the makeshift bandage on her arm.
Larkbadder had brought them to his own barracks tent, which seemed no different from the many others scattered around the encampment. “There are no more available cots, so you’ll need to share these with others.” He gestured to two nearby cots, placed adjacent to each other. “These two are available during the day … the prisoners are out working while the sun is up.”
“Work? What do the Pharloms have everybody doing?” Leon asked, taking a seat on one of the cots—then bouncing on it—as if testing for its level of comfort.
“There’s no shortage of work … shoveling latrine trenches, filling food bowls; those are among the preferred duties.”
“And the not-so-preferred?” Hanna asked.
“Dealing with the dead. There ar
e still thousands of bodies needing to be stripped of jewelry, then carted off to the bio furnaces,” Larkbadder told her.
Leon knew what a bio furnace was. They were a common component of war. He pictured the quasi-portable structure he’d seen on a distant, alien battlefield—basically consisting of a wide chain-mesh conveyor belt, leading into an enclosed, ten-by-ten-foot compartment. The ceiling, also ten feet high, contained a solid bank of high-powered plasma generators. Once a body … or bodies … was fed into the compartment, it took less than three seconds to become atomized. No muss, no mess.
“Who decides who does what around here?” Leon asked.
“Each barrack has its own prisoner representative.”
“And that is you, I’m guessing?”
“Yes. For this barrack, as well as for the camp as a whole.”
“How do we get out of here? You have to have thought about it … perhaps put a plan together?” Leon asked.
Larkbadder didn’t answer right away, cautiously looking both left and right. He sat down next to Hanna on the cot and leaned forward. “At the beginning of the attack, when the Pharloms were first detected in Trom space, pleas for help were sent … to our neighboring systems … as far as central Allied command. They assured us help would come. But that was some time ago. Apparently our inclusion within the Alliance has less importance than we thought. So … we’re on our own.” Larkbadder looked dejected. “Anyway, almost immediately after being imprisoned here attempts were made to escape. I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re situated atop a cloud-port thousands of feet above the surface of the planet of Trom. So the only viable means of escape is to steal, or hijack, a ship.”
Leon shrugged. “So steal a flippin’ ship.”
“It’s been tried … more than once. Such attempts were monumental failures. The prisoners were apprehended and …” his voice trailed off.
“What?” Hanna coaxed.
“The apprehended prisoners were assembled in front of the others and made an example of.”
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