The Teristaque Chronicles

by Aaron Frale

  “So why don’t you act like a soldier?” Sarge said firmly.

  “Yes sir, sir!”

  Hayden put on his helmet. He connected the breathing tube in front to the filter mounted in the chest. The heads up display in his field of vision ran through the checks of the various ocular enhancements built into the eyepieces. After they were all in their power armor, they looked inhuman. They had large black eyes, and a tube leading from their mouth like a gas mask from ancient times. Hayden understood why the other species called soldiers in their body armor Teristaques. They were a fierce group to behold.

  The troop transport landed with a loud clank. Sarge screamed at them, and they all clicked the quick release of their belts and jumped to their feet. The hatch in the back opened, and they all ran down to the platform. From the ground, the landing platform was a large flat plane of metal in every direction. In the area around Hayden, there were swarms of troops, hover tanks, fighters, spider walkers, disc rovers, and every military equipment imaginable. The commercial and civilian parts of the platform were too distant to see.

  Sarge lined up the troops for inspection. His commanding officer, Colonel Dodgery, came shortly after and said, “At ease.”

  The men and women of the squad relaxed, and the red-haired officer walked slowly through the ranks. He wasn’t wearing power armor and was dwarfed by the suited soldiers around him. He pulled a tiny piece of decrand from his pocket. It was no larger than his fingertip, but Hayden could see his muscles straining to hold it up even though his face didn’t register the burden. “Can anyone tell me what this is?”

  “Decrand, sir,” Hayden said. The other soldiers laughed.

  “Did I say you could laugh?” Colonel Dodgery said, and the others became rigid. “Sure, that’s what the lab coat jockeys call it, but to us, it is the heart of civilization. Every member of your family enjoys their lifestyle because of this rock. Why are you here soldier?”

  “To protect the decrand?” Hayden postulated.

  “You are here to protect our way of life. This is not like the soft inner planets. Out here is the frontier, and you are the law. Have you ever seen a man bleed out?”

  “Only in simulation, sir.”

  “Jenkins!”

  “Yes sir,” Tomahawk said. He was nicknamed after a weapon he had in his bunk that he claimed could be traced all the way back to his ancestors on Earth. It was a reminder that he came from a long line of warriors. The military was the only life he had known, and the only life he cared about. After the Liberation Wars, he was given some property on Earth, and a retirement settlement to last him a lifetime. He reenlisted the next day.

  “Have you ever seen a man bleed out?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where did it happen?”

  “A few clicks northeast of here.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Everything in my power to save him, sir.”

  “What happened?”

  “He died from his wounds, sir.”

  “What did you do after that?”

  “My job, sir.”

  “And what is your job?”

  “To protect our way of life.”

  “This is not a simulation. We are not on a civilized planet. We are on the border of the Treaty Zone. You may feel like you’re at home when you are in the walls of Tek, but rest assured, there are rebels, hostile aliens, and creatures that don’t care about us, or the way of life we are trying to protect. We live on the edge, so others don’t have too. We are not guarding your mother’s flower garden. We are protecting the most important ore in the universe. If a freighter doesn’t take off every hour, people will starve. I expect the best. I honor those better than that. Dismissed.”

  The troop called out their honor cry. Sarge and Colonel Dodgery walked away. The troop began gathering their gear from the transport. Spider, the communications specialist, turned to Tomahawk, “Hey Tommy, you got his speech memorized yet? You certainly know your part.”

  Tomahawk gave Spider a rude hand gesture and continued to pack the gear onto the floating platform.

  Hayden turned to Spider, “Does he give the same speech every year?”

  “Every day is more like it, for each squad of fools like us that ship in from off world.”

  “How many times have you been here?”

  “Since the war ended? I’d say five. With a year off here and there. I’m surprised I’ve made it home each time.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “Nigs make a good workforce, but they’re tough mothers. Power armor or not, if you turn your back on one, count yourself dead.”

  “Noted,” Hayden said. He had heard similar stories and read all the debriefs. The local intelligent species, the Nigramotoians, dwarfed humans outside of their power armor. They were broad shouldered and strong. One Nigramotoian could flip a hover tank and puncture power armor with a medieval weapon. They were a fierce species, and it was easy to see why. The gravity on Nigramoto was five times Earth’s gravity. Most planets had nickel and iron in their cores. Nigramoto had a decrand core. An unenhanced human outside their power armor would barely be able to move. Even with the standard-issue muscle and bone enhancements each soldier received in boot camp, a human outside their armor was sluggish compared to a Nigramotoian.

  They pushed the gear transport towards the edge of the landing platform. A group of battle mechs towered over them in formation. They were black with the United Planets of Earth colors. Each had a variety of missile, plasma, projectile, and laser weaponry. The mechs sat three people inside the armored chest plate: one pilot and two weapon specialists. They were deadly machines, but Hayden didn’t like cockpits. He didn’t like feeling restricted. While ground soldiers had the highest mortality rate, he at least had the freedom a mech pilot could never have.

  Hayden grew up in the cramped Los Angeles mega-city back on Earth. His father and three brothers all shared a four hundred square-foot modular apartment. The apartment would convert to whatever space they needed at the time. Beds would descend from the walls at night. Showers would sprout in the morning. A living area rose during the day. A dining area shifted from the wall for mealtime. Hayden’s life was regulated out of necessity. It was no wonder why three of the four children joined the military. Hayden’s oldest brother died in the Liberation Wars. His frigate was caught in the path of a planetary bombardment, and his body burnt in the atmosphere of Sallax Prime. That left Hayden and his other brother Joshua, who avoided most of the conflict because he was a mechanic, and Hayden missed the conflict because he was too young. The war had ended by the time he could enlist.

  Hayden’s brother back home, Paul, was an English teacher. He took care of their father who had retired from the desalinization plant after forty grueling years of labor. Most of the muscles and joints were replaced several times from the manual labor. If only his father had access to the enhancements available to military personnel, he could have had a less sedentary retirement. Either way, the arrangement worked out. Paul was never good at sports, always was the odd brother out, and didn’t mind taking care of their father. It didn’t come as a surprise that most of the family would be light years away from the congested planet of Earth.

  His group got to the edge of the platform, and Tek’Tu’Pat spread out before them. The city was alien in its architecture. Unlike humans, who built large vertical structures, the buildings were ziggurat-shaped and communal. The structures all connected more like growths than like Earth buildings that were all separate. Various floating ships, vehicles, and hover discs were buzzing around the city like flies.

  When humans first arrived on Nigramoto, the Nigramotoians were just entering their computer age. The cities were still really small with no more than ten million natives at the largest. Hayden even heard rumors that there were still Nigramotoians who lived in villages, living the lifestyle of their ancestors. By comparison, there were pockets of humanity who still lived in tribes up until technology swept the planet.
The creation of the first union governments marked the beginning of the end of tribal life.

  The most breathtaking sight was the wilderness around the city. There was actual uninhabited land, unlike Earth where uninhabited land was very scarce and almost always reserved for the ultra-rich. Part of what inspired Hayden to sign up for the military was a trip to Colorado with his father and brothers as a boy. Parts of the Colorado Rockies were some of the few public places on Earth with natural wildlife. The parks were tightly regulated. They were monitored by satellite, and the passes to visit the park were so rare that people had to wait years for a chance to go, or have considerable wealth to buy out a person’s spot in line.

  While the passes were only limited to one per family, nature reserve brokers facilitated the transfer of passes from families who ran into money trouble before their wait was over. Hayden’s father held fast to his pass. Despite the offers and the times where he nearly sold their one and only chance to see the wilderness, his father didn’t budge. Seeing the Colorado Rockies was the most memorable moment of his life. Years later, Hayden signed up for the foot patrol if only for the chance to see the wilderness again. Here on Nigramoto, as far from civilization as he could get, Hayden might get a chance to walk among the trees again. The time spent on lifeless rocks and cramped spaces seemed worth it. The sight before his eyes was an endless expanse of forest.

  _______

  Hayden’s first few weeks stationed in Tek were about as far from the wilderness as he could get. His troop mostly patrolled the city as a peacekeeping force. There were a variety of different alien species living in the city, most were those who stayed after the Liberation Wars, and the vast majority was the Nigramotoians followed by the humans. Humans spread throughout the galaxy. From the time humans first learned to sail across the ocean, there were always people willing to brave the frontier for a fresh start.

  Due to the intense natural gravity of the planet, most humans were modified through military upgrades, exoskeletons, or less legal methods. Short-term visitors to the planet could always be spotted in a crowd from the particular kind of exoskeletons they wore. Offworlders were always a prime target for crime.

  Hayden walked Tek’s highest market at the apex of one of the cities’ tallest ziggurats. Unlike human architecture, where the rich and the powerful lived at the top, the Nigramotoians had all their common areas at the highest level so that the entire populace could enjoy the views. The market was packed with vendors from many different species selling various goods. Hayden saw an offworlder looking through a few banjer carcasses, a small rabbit-like animal that was popular in the local cuisine. He was a tall, lanky balding man with thin, pinched features. He exuded offworlder because his exoskeleton was the cheap rental kind.

  Hayden could see the attack coming. Two thugs, one Nigramotoian with deep green skin and orange hair and the other a human with a nose that looked as if it had been broken several times, were following the man. They attempted not to be conspicuous but were clearly closing in for a time to strike the unwary offworlder. Hayden’s partner, Firestorm, didn’t notice. Hayden took his job patrolling the city seriously. Most of his troop knew their mere presence was enough to deter crime, and they spent the days being bored, and the nights complaining about the lack of action.

  Sarge, on the other hand, never complained. Never said much, for that matter. He was a man of simple pleasures. If Sarge had beer, meat, and cigars, he would be pleased. Hayden didn’t sense that Sarge hated conversation. He just kept a professional distance from his squad.

  About two weeks after they had landed, Sarge opened up a tiny crack to Hayden. They were all enjoying a local blend vodka distilled from the root of a tree when Sarge had turned to Hayden and said, “You know, I’ve always wanted a farm.”

  “A skyscraper-“ Hayden began, but Sarge waived his hand.

  “Like a plot of land. Grow things by the light of the local star, and maybe raise some cattle.”

  Hayden didn’t know how to respond. Farming had been only done on skyscrapers through mirrors bouncing the sunlight. The land was too scarce and valuable to waste on growing food. Only the super wealthy ate sun grown vegetables. Most of Earth subsisted on replicated nutritional supplements from recycled waste. Hayden wondered if half the appeal of going to a far off planet like Nigramoto was the fact that everything was grown here, and replicators were the rare technology.

  But there was more to Sarge’s words than owning a farm as a business opportunity. He had seemed far away when he made the statement. The moment passed, and Sarge was back to himself, a man with a rich, full laugh, who was not afraid to enjoy life. The men were at ease around Sarge, but Hayden knew there was something else within him, something that he didn’t let his troops see.

  The offworlder walked away from the banjer stand and walked near a stairwell leading down from the market. The two thugs surrounded the man and forced him down the stairs. The Nigramotoian had something in his pocket pressed against the offworlder’s back.

  “Two o’clock,” Hayden said to his partner.

  “What?” she said.

  “Those three going down the stairs. I think they are kidnapping him.”

  “I don’t see what…”

  Hayden knew if he didn’t act quickly, the man would be lost. He took off running. The people of the market split ways for him. He heard whispers of “Teristaque” from the people around him.

  “Babyface… wait!” Firestorm yelled. “Damn newb!”

  Hayden dashed down the stairs two or three at a time. On Earth, his power armor would have made him a super human. On Nigramoto, he was like anyone else. He tripped on the last step and tumbled to the ground. His metal armor clanged as he rolled to a halt into the side of a building, cracking the brickwork and ruining the stucco-like substance coating the wall. The three men turned to face Hayden as he forced himself up.

  The human with the crooked nose and the offworlder looked surprised. Hayden turned to face them, and the Nigramotoian ran. Hayden saw Firestorm leaping down the stairs and decided to give chase to the Nigramotoian.

  “Watch this man,” Hayden yelled as he shoved the man with the broken-too-often nose towards her and ran down the street.

  The Nigramotoian was fast. They ducked through the side streets and alleyways, down more stairs, and past crowds of people. The buildings of the city reminded Hayden of Earth’s ancient Middle Eastern culture. They were various shades of tan and had large support beams like traditional homes in ancient America’s southwest. The people were peaceful, slow moving. A chase through their streets created calamity. Hayden bumped a fish vendor, and his fish toppled into the street. Hayden could swear he heard the man yell, “Teristaque” followed by foul language.

  He chased the alien into a large square where some local performance was happening. There was a wash of green faces. Each wore a variety of animal skin. Several key dancers had animal masks representing predator and prey. Other more abstract masks represented air, land, and sea. They were chanting a long, slow rhythmic chant. The dirge swelled as it progressed. The Nigramotoians stomped their feet and roared from the gut. It was primal and powerful yet delicate and graceful. He could see the hunter infused with the balance of nature in their spirit. There was respect and reverence in the display.

  Had Hayden come across the dance in difference circumstances, he would want to stay and watch. However, Hayden was on a mission, and his duties ranked far above sightseeing. He switched the auto tracker from the large black eye plates to biomonitoring. There was a Nigramotoian hiding in the dance with a heartbeat much faster than the others. It was the erratic cacophony of a being running for his life. Unlike the dancers, whose hearts seemed to beat in unison as if they all connected to each other like they were the soul of the planet.

  Hayden broke through the dancers, and a large Nigramotoian stood in his way. “Why do you bother us Teristaque? This is a peaceful demonstration.”

  “You have a criminal hiding within your spe
ctacle, and he could be armed.”

  “The only crime is the Teristaque lack of respect for our ways.”

  Hayden thought the man would put up more of a fight, but he whistled, and the ceremony stopped. Each dancer looked nervously towards Hayden. They parted ways, and the alien who had run from Hayden was sprawled on the ground, panting. He turned to his kind and pleaded, “Please don’t let him take me.”

  “Go on,” the ceremony leader said. “If one earth brother or sister must die so that the village may thrive, then he will give his life.”

  “Please!” the alien cried. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

  The dancers turned their backs on him as he scrambled from dancer to dancer. Hayden approached the man and pulled out a pair of energy cuffs. After the man was cuffed, Hayden dug into the man’s coat. There wasn’t a gun in the coat. It was a bottle, a local beverage.

  “Let this be a lesson, Teristaque.” the ceremony leader said, and turned his back on Hayden.

  _______

  “What the hell is this?” Sarge held the confiscated bottle of jajunga berry wine out in from of him. Hayden and Firestorm sat in front of Colonel Dodgery’s desk while Sarge paced back and forth between them. The colonel sat back and eyed the pair. Outside his armor, Hayden felt the pull of gravity and was amazed that the colonel and Sarge didn’t seem to let it hold them back. There were many hunting trophies along the wall of Colonel Dodgery’s office. Their heads were stuck in an endless roar. There was an empty plaque for a stuffed krikshek beast head.

  “Jajunga berry, sir,” Hayden said. The jajunga berry was a fruit quite harmless to Nigramotoians. However, when fermented, it caused powerful hallucinations in humans. The local government banned the beverage after a few too many instances of offworlders going crazy in public.

  Sarge leaned in close. The smell of cigars almost overwhelmed Hayden. “And are we here to enforce local laws?”

  “No sir,” Hayden said. “We are here to protect our way of life, sir.”