Copyright © 2014 by F. D. Brant
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
F. D. Brant
Gresham Or 97030
www.fdbrant.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com
A Taste of History Past/ F. D. Brant. -- 1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-0000000-0-0
ISBN: 9781483544052
This book is dedicated to my wife and soul mate Audrey, who must put up with this writer – and, of course, to family, where the future lies.
“This place is one of my favorites, plus there are a couple of tables where we can have at least a little privacy. Still, in a small place like this, everyone will know about you and me before I even return to the booth. I suppose I will be answering questions from the village folk for the rest of the gather.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“It can be. After all they will be making their own conclusions, and the stories will get bigger and move away from the truth, and it will take time away from us, ah my brother and I, from getting the capital we need to keep the property going.”
.
—A CONVERSATION BETWEEN LAUMA AND FAUUL FROM THE BOOK, THE ONES BEFORE.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
THE GIFT
COMMUNICATIONS AND CAMPING
CAUSE AND EFFECT
A HUNT FOR THE PAST
OTHERS
INTRIGUE
THE ANCIENT CLAN SITE
DEFENSE
SABOHL RETALIATES
FROM SITE TO HOME
THE SEARCH
THE DESOLATION
VALLEY OR NO VALLEY
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
The satellite remained in geosynchronous orbit above an unnamed planet located in a distant binary star system. It was one of the many that had been placed here thousands of cycles around the suns in the past. At the beginning the activity had been high and the AI that was part of who he was had been kept quite busy. It had been a time of discovery and time of communication between all of them and the ones who had created them. There had been much traffic from the shuttles that brought messages and needed supplies from the great galactic ships that roamed the vastness of space bringing news from their homeworld. It was enough to keep all the AI’s busy and content. After all they were fulfilling their functions. And there were trips from some of these same shuttles to repair the satellites to keep them functioning and in tip top order. There had been upgrades and while they could never claim to be truly conscious or sentient as the ones who had created them, still with their memory cores and abilities to see, to hear, to communicate with one another and with the ones who had created them, it had been enough.
Then the shuttles came no more. The communications traffic from the Alpha had continued as it was for a while, and then it slowly dwindled, and disappeared. It seemed that they were on their own, forgotten, unwanted, unneeded, but this was something that was beyond their comprehension, their understanding, so they continued to do as they had been programmed. But without the periodic trips from the creators to replace broken and worn parts they began to fail. And one by one they went dark, falling towards the planet as they lost their ability to hold their positions, and as this ability failed they were pulled slowly towards the planet and then in a streak of fiery light and death disintegrate in the atmosphere as any meteor would.
Yet before this had become the known reality, and after 2346 turns around this binary system, they were needed once again. The Alpha once again was filled with the creators. But to their disappointment it appeared that these new ones knew not of them and what they were capable of performing for them. Still as they watched, the Alpha became more and more active as systems that had been placed into the down and maintenance mode came back to life, back on line. And then the joy, when, once again, part of what they were designed to do, had been rediscovered and used by these new ones. Yet, they had used only a very small part of what they, the satellites, were capable of performing. And he was the Alpha among the satellites, and all of others answered to him as he answered to the creators. But as the messages of needing repairs piled and as he sent the requests on to the creators they never responded, no shuttles answered their calls for help. And finally as would be expected, the first went dark. Dumping all the information it had collected, ejecting its memory core as it had been programed, to save what was there, followed by the silent plunge into the atmosphere and the streaking fiery death.
Another 513 cycles passed and their pleas for help continued to go unanswered, unheard, and were unknown by the creators. At this time the shuttles arrived once again from deep space and there was once again a major flurry of activity, but this time they were completely forgotten as the many hidden cities emptied out and became vacant … ghosts. And once empty great plumes of smoke from what was known as the desolation climbed into the skies, marking the end of these hidden cities. And then finally the Alpha Complex too went silent – leaving only the satellites, the abandoned shells that had once been the cities, and the Alpha, as the reminders that another people had been here at one time. Soon, yes very soon he too would be joining his brothers in that fiery death. His systems were failing, his pleas for help falling on abandoned facilities, with no ears to hear, no voices to respond, no hands to help. He was completely alone, forgotten, and well beyond what these primitive people that he observed, the ones who lived on this unknown planet could do. And soon he like the others would be gone, leaving the ones ignorant that such as he had ever existed, had been watching them from their skies.
Only one last function left to perform. A burst transmission to the Alpha with all the accumulated data, the ejection of his memory core and he too would cease to exist …
CHAPTER ONE
THE GIFT
Kal stood on a slight rise. It was either late in the Season of Green, or early in the Season of Pre-harvest or Heat, as his ancestors would have said. He really wasn’t quite sure since he had lived all his life in one of the many large villages. He had only met his mate a few turns in the past and right now she was back at the shelter taking care of whatever it was that she did. These open spaces here in the grassland plains bothered him. He was used to the more closed areas as one who had spent all of remembered life working with his family at their business of providing baked goods to the residents. So there had been little time for such things as going out and just staring at the wide open spaces. Yet here he was. There was a wind blowing and the grasses gave the appearance of waves as the winds moved among them. He could hear the roar of the wind as it rose and fell, hitting him with a warmth that dried the sweat on his forehead. It promised to be a warm day. Sighing and shaking his head, he was quite undecided as to what to do. If he hadn’t been given that gift on the celebration of his twentieth by an old family member he would have been quite happy to live in his ignorance. But he had, and so here he stood, staring at nothing. Why me? Why was it me, the one chosen within the family to receive this?
At first he was excited, especially when he had learned that this record, this archive that he had been given, went all the way back to one of the clan leaders who had played a major role in what had become of this world. Then, even though he was sure that he probably had been told before, he learned that he was a direc
t descendent of this particular clan leader and why their last name was Kaygor. Although from the records that were put together by the clan scribes and religious leaders, all from that time, he – the clan leader – had only one name and his was K’jor. So how did we get Kaygor from K’jor – and why that apostrophe in the name? Oh, that’s right, I was told that at this time in our history we were a warrior race, and there was fighting all the time between the many clans and tribes that existed, and that only could be added to a name once rank had been received, whatever that rank might have been. He had to admit that as a child, the idea of fighting in battles as warriors sounded, well, sounded romantic. Save the female and such. But as he had read the translation, since the language had changed much in the 1500 turns or so, he was shocked to learn how the females had been treated. Thinking about his mate, he could never imagine, in his wildest nightmare, of such a thing. And once his mate had read it he could see anger in her eyes that such a thing had been the way of the past.
He remembered her angry retort, “If any male tried something like that today, we’d put him in his place immediately!” He could see from her stance that he had better just agree and let it go at that. He could understand, as what this appeared to be was no more than slavery for the females, and giving them very little worth, other than producing the next generation. Smiling he remembered thinking about that and wondered how it must have been to be able to have any female at any time – but knew that it was just a young male’s fantasy for such a thing. Yet as he had continued to read and study the rather large document he ended up with more questions than answers. Well, again, no surprise there, after all he was a student of history, and what had been taught, as he had gone through the learning centers, was very boring and something he felt that he would never need anyway. But with this close and intimate view he began to search the archives and records, and as he did he began to feel a hunger in his soul to find out the answers to the riddles that were now before him, and this was the reason he was now standing here in the open grasslands.
As time had passed by, and the true understanding of the natural world was discovered, the many gods died a natural death. Yet, there appeared to be an incident recorded in this record, from his ancestor, of a meeting between them and these gods. But from what they knew now, this was impossible. But as he researched it further, in his spare time of course, it was consistent. Whatever tribe or clan that had become a part of that first alliance, the same story existed. Of course there were slight variations between the records, but that was to be expected, since people would see things differently. And, of course, what records that still existed too many were incomplete. But one thing that was consistent between all of them was the statement that they were confronted by their gods. It had appeared that this alliance was brought together to destroy an unknown people who had lived in the desolation. But even now in his time this desolation was avoided, so it had been assumed that this part was probably not true, and was just misdirection from where they were really traveling. But wherever this had been, this valley where this incident was supposed to have happened, became off limits and had been renamed the Valley of the Gods. And these supposed gods had put this valley, the desolation, and the Sacred Mountains; yes they were still called that, off limits – not that the Sacred Mountains hadn’t been anyway – although later an altar had been placed in the valley.
So if it was consistent throughout all of the records that he had researched, why was this incident considered myth? It made no sense to him at all. And as time had passed leading up to now, this valley had become myth like this supposed confrontation with the gods. No one knew if it had really existed, and if it did, where its location would be. He felt that if that valley could be located, then he would be able to solve these many questions, and answer the riddles of the gods. And were these other people real, as it was suggested in the written word, or imagined as the views of today believed? And once again that was why he stood here staring. He needed to be heading back, since there was much work awaiting his strong hands. At least as he worked the dough it allowed him plenty of time to think. And this he must do because the final decision would change his life forever, and who knew maybe the race of people that he came from.
He kept going back to the many visits that he had had with the higher learned ones, both during his time of learning, and before studying the ancient manuscripts that had been passed on to him. The learned had stated that “These gods that had been created by our ancient ancestors were just that, created from their primitive minds trying to put some understanding to what they were witnessing”. In a way it did make sense. They knew that the Sacred Mountains had been formed both volcanically and by uplifting caused by something they called plates. It was also known that their ancient counterparts believed that the desolation was the home of the spirit world, the place where the dead dwelt, and not a place for the living. Again it was easy to understand how that conclusion had come about. But now it was just the badlands, and desert, a place where little moisture reached, not allowing much to live and survive in that harsh environment. And the idea that some hidden people, who in the end, had supposedly been the servants of these gods, and lived permanently in the desolation, was ridiculous. If any tribe or clan had lived there, it would have been only for a very short time. After all there was nothing to support life. And as far as he knew, and he had to admit his ignorance on the subject, water was nonexistent.
And this most outrageous of all was this supposed Valley of the Gods. The only reason that it was mentioned at all was because it seemed to be a turning point in their history. Up until the supposed incident in that fictitious valley, females’ roles were well established, and had not changed for as long as there had been a written or oral history. But after this mythological encounter with their gods, slowly females began to take on more important roles within the societies. This was something that did not happen overnight, but over hundreds of turns. And no matter whom he talked to, or asked, once again, the general consensus was quote, “The Valley of the Gods, real … I think not. It is just a myth, a legend, with no hard facts to back it at all. It simply was a turning point in our culture and nothing more.” What could one say to counter this belief? And after reading, with much difficulty, the inheritance he had received, the descriptions were too graphic, too real to have been imagined. And at the same time he didn’t want to show these learned ones his source knowing that they would probably take it from him and he would never see it again. And if he pressed them to return it, he was sure that they would deny that such a thing was handed over to them and that it never existed. Because what was in this document would counter everything they thought that they knew about that time in their history, and “my, we couldn’t have that could we”.
This document, when it had been dropped into his lap, was unbelievably huge. And with the time that had passed, some of the earliest parts were fading to illegibility. It was very important, in his mind, that this be copied so that none of what was here would be lost. So painstakingly he and his mate had been making copies, and by doing so was becoming intimate with the content. It was she who pointed out this one female that had supposedly, by today’s view of their history, come from one of those destroyed lairs in the desolation. And while females of the time were not allowed names, this one had one, a strange one to their way of thinking. And it was written in the notes that she was a priest of the gods. How could that be? No female was allowed such a place of importance. He hadn’t really been listening that closely since he had been concentrating on his own section, but slowly it penetrated his thick skull, as she liked to tell him, and he looked up and asked, “Name? A female with a name, and not only that, but rank? Are you sure?” She had given him that look and shook her head, and had brought the pages over so that he could see for himself. And it was right there, and this female’s name was Sara, whatever a Sara was. Although, he had to admit, he was beginning to understand why that name was beginning to become popular in their c
ulture.
It stated that she, as well as the people captured from these hidden lairs, spoke a different tongue and it was because this female spoke this strange tongue as well as theirs that she had come into the written word. And what had transpired to bring her into the story at all had to do with the captured females. As was the tradition and law at the time, if a tribe or clan was destroyed in battle then the females that were captured were added to the victor’s breeding herds, as they were called. This had a twofold purpose. First it showed the superiority they had over their enemies, and secondly strengthened the clan or tribe, by adding new blood to the next generations that would come from the unions. But these strange females never carried, never conceived, and many died through the early turns of captivity. These warrior races feared that somehow that while these females appeared to be weak on the outside, they were defeating the warriors by not allowing any to be successful when breeding with them. Supposedly in this Valley of the Gods, the tribes and clans got their answer as to why, and all of these strange ones were taken to this valley, and were never heard from again. All of this had a ring of truth to it. It was just too fantastic to have been made up.
Then there was mention of these travelers who used to visit the many tribes and clans, and that they were regular visitors who provided services and traded, their goods being superior to any that could be made at the time. That for the longest time they had quit their trading, and suddenly, when all of this was taking place, they appeared once again. These travelers stated that their homes were beyond the mountains. But in the recent past there had been treks to that area, and it was found to be a barren hostile world with no sign of habitation. So were these travelers myth also? It really didn’t make much sense to him. Everything that the two of them had read had a consistency of fact to it, and all of it fit together very well, too well as far as he could see. All of this had to be real, all of it had to have happened, but how could it be proven?
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