Colony (Terran Chronicles Book 3)

by James Jackson

  The General stares at the wall, and though he can see what the Doctor is talking about, he does not yet understand why.

  Nelson almost whispers the words, “It was the spores, they all show signs of what would ordinarily be considered brain damage.” He points to another image, and continues, “You can see where something created pathways, but clearly instead of dying, the affected areas of the brain thrived.”

  The General smiles, “Well then, I have some news you may find interesting. Cindy told me today that a number of their crew that survived the spores are in a vegetative state.”

  Nelson rubs his chin, “So a person either dies, or adapts? No, that can’t be it. I would like to see these survivors.”

  “Cindy is going to evacuate the entire crew so we can run them through this quarantine facility. You will be able to do all the tests you want.”

  Nelson grins, then falters, “Well that brings us to George. I see no sign of spore damage, yet take a look at his brain image.”

  Walker’s jaw drops, the image is so brightly colored it almost overwhelms his senses, “George?” He says doubtfully.

  “George’s results are staggering, aren’t they? I seriously doubt he had an IQ of almost two hundred when he was working at his uncle’s furniture store in Manhattan!”

  Nelson smiles as he continues, “George can fudge his other tests all day long, but he can’t hide this!”

  Walker frowns as he responds, “Let me get this straight, as far as George is concerned, he’s aged around one year, and yet his changes are more dramatic than those who have been using the suits here for three years.”

  Nelson leans forward, “Cindy slipped up when she said the aliens did something to George’s suit. We need to find out what they did, we need his suit!”

  The General stares at the images on the wall, slowly nodding as he does so, his calculating mind busily considering many options. Making a decision, he turns to Nelson, “I think we should release them. That will make them feel more comfortable.” He grins while adding, “And then we will evacuate the Terran, debrief the entire crew, and investigate these spores along with George’s suit.”

  Nelson nods in agreement, then, while staring at George’s MRI adds, “We should keep George away from the ship, instead, let’s bring his wife and son here.”

  Walker’s eyebrows raise at the suggestion, “Now, I like that idea,” he says nodding in agreement.

  Location:

  Starship Terran

  Planetary Orbit

  Earth

  Peter is in deep thought as he occupies the command chair on the Terran’s bridge. Andrew sits at his control station, pensively waiting. Having just ended a lengthy discussion with General Walker and Cindy, the pair is considering their options.

  Peter sighs deeply, “Well, it’s not as if we’re going anywhere. Let’s park this beast in the space dock, and prepare to debark the crew.”

  Andrew replies, his voice is filled with reluctance, “There is something else going on mate, and you know it.” He sighs, “But you’re right, short of leaving orbit, what else are we to do?”

  The next few minutes pass quickly as Andrew pilots the ship into the purpose built space station. Throughout the ship, the crew is excited to be home, only a few actually pause to consider what will happen to them next.

  Emma makes her way onto the bridge, then stops next to Peter. Her eyes are a little moist as she holds back her emotions, “What’s going to happen to us?”

  Peter turns to her and feels a twinge of sympathy. He understands the question for what it is, she means ‘them’. He lifts his gaze to meet hers, I never really noticed before, how beautiful her eyes are. The thought comes unbidden. Her pale green eyes, with a hint of blue, do not come off as remarkable at first, but now he finds her gaze comforting. She believes in me, the realization comes suddenly, and inexplicably.

  Emma starts to shake as she mistakes Peter’s silence for indifference. He quickly reaches for her hand, then tenderly holds it in his. He almost cannot believe his own words as they tumble out, “I will do whatever it takes to stay with you, if that’s what you want.”

  Andrew stares directly ahead, as he too, cannot believe that the quiet calculating killer has a heart. She has no idea who he really is, no one really knows who he really is. He muses to himself.

  Far below, many eyes watch through various telescopes as the Terran docks beneath the space station. Dozens of claw-like appendages begin to close in on the ship, making contact, they hold the Terran firmly in place.

  The bridge speakers come to life, surprising them all. “Welcome to Space Station Unity, we are prepared to transport your crew to the surface.”

  Shuttles exit the space station, making their way around, and under the ship. Peter and Andrew exchange a quick look as Peter replies, “Very well, we shall open the hangar for you.”

  The next few hours pass quickly as shuttles land inside the Terran, load up with crew members, then depart. Finally, the three people on the bridge are the last on board. Even the seven unfortunate survivors of the spores are evacuated. Somehow, these people have managed to survive the growth of the spores in their brains, but they did so at a high price. They exist as mindless vegetables, requiring constant care, hovering somewhere between consciousness and a comatose state.

  Peter gives Andrew a meaningful look as he stares around the bridge, perhaps for the last time. He touches a symbol on the command chair’s console, then states emphatically, “Ship’s log, the crew has disembarked. The mission is over. Peter signing off.”

  Emma takes Peter’s hand. He hesitates for a second, then relaxes and smiles. Andrew takes one last soulful look at the bridge, and then follows the pair. Trailing behind, he grins at Peter’s back. His thoughts are on the couple in front of him, who could have guessed it? I suppose being in space does do strange things to people.

  Chapter Three : Separate Ways

  Location:

  Outback

  Western Australia

  General Walker stares out across the evening desert, his gaze is drawn to the small group of individuals gathered around a moderately sized bonfire. He sighs as an unexpected wave of empathy sets in, the remaining crew of the Terran. Most of them will never set foot aboard that ship again. The thought should not bother him, as he was instrumental in their reassignment, but seeing their camaraderie, it does. He frowns as another thought crosses his mind, perhaps I was wrong in demanding Cindy be removed from command? He puts a hand to his chin and scratches the slight stubble that grows there, all the while watching from a distance. I am glad Hayes insisted I let them have a farewell get together though. It is the least I could do. These last few days have been very stressful for the surviving crew.

  Off in the distance, Cindy stands and holds her glass up high. With a solemn tone she addresses her crew one last time, “It has been my privilege, and honor, to serve with you all.”

  A chorus of equaled sentiments are returned to her. Cindy’s eyes wander across those assembled. She smiles as her gaze falls upon Andrew and Joe, their adventure is not yet over, she is glad they are staying aboard. She frowns a little as she notices Peter and Emma sitting side by side, who ever would have thought those two would become a couple? She shakes her head in mild surprise as her eyes continue to drift over the group. She nods in silent respect at Radclyf, then Hayato, as their eyes meet, they’re brave men, as are those they command. I will never forget their sacrifices.

  Peter gazes across the campfire at Radclyf and Hayato as well, giving each a respectful nod when they catch his look. Keeping his face an unreadable mask, he smiles to himself as his thoughts drift back to an idea, one that formulated the moment Earth came into view. An idea he shared with the two men.

  John interrupts Peter’s thoughts and the group’s souring mood by standing, raising his glass, and speaking solemnly. “To Captain Edwards, who was unable to attend.” His face breaks into a cheeky smile as people begin to chuckle at his false sombe
rness. John continues on with a whimsical expression, “I hope he was paying attention when I was touching all those controls on that beast,” he says as he points his thumb skyward, “He’s got his hands full now.”

  Joe and Andrew glance at each other with mild concern. They do not feel very comfortable with Edwards replacing John as the Terran’s pilot. Both squirm a little at John’s playful comments. John catches Andrew’s expression, walks over to the man, and lightheartedly slaps him on the back. Andrew tries to smile at the attempt to make him feel better, but inside he is quite apprehensive.

  George, who has been rather moody of late, sits quietly by. His own thoughts and feelings in a turmoil over what has transpired since their arrival home. He is excited to be back with his family. He missed Lisa and Johnny more than he thought he did. And even though he knows the Gamin bodysuit he was wearing has altered his body chemistry, he longs for it, and all he could do with it. He smiles to himself as he recalls the confusion he caused during his physical and mental testing. I almost blew it, he realizes with a little fear, they would have locked me up like a lab rat for good if I had not bombed those last few tests. I think Nelson knows that I failed some of his questions on purpose, he just can’t prove it. His thoughts are broken when Johnny comes running up and sits down next to him. Lisa walks toward him, her dark hair very striking in the moon-light. His moody thoughts vanish instantly, and are replaced by more private notions.

  Cindy glances around the group, tilts her glass at George, and says, “So, what are your plans?”

  George tips his head toward his wife, then with a smile replies, “I think the three us will go to Europe and spend some time with Lisa’s family.”

  Lisa puts her arm under George’s and snuggles up to him. She looks over at Johnny, their son, who is wearing George’s jacket. Its frayed sleeves and collar, testaments to years of wear. It fits him much better now that he has begun growing up. Our son will be just like his father. She again looks around at those gathered, and smiles proudly, thinking of her family.

  Cindy nods, and with a smile, tilts her glass toward Peter, “I’m glad you were able to stay here for this get-together. Are you willing to share with us, what you’re going to do?”

  Peter grins, it’s the heartfelt grin of a truly happy man. He reaches for Emma’s hand and replies, “I plan to retire from my old job. Who knows, perhaps I will find I have a green thumb and can assist Emma?”

  A few in the group begin to chuckle. Radclyf and Hayato try to stifle snickers, but are unable, and begin to laugh loudly. Peter, for his part, smiles whimsically at the laughter directed at him. He knows it is a far reach for him to become a gardener.

  Henry talks of returning to England and either continuing his research on the spores, or, staying with Radclyf’s team. Cindy listens to everyone’s plans, then shares her wish to lead a team of specialists who will also investigate the alien spores. With her senior position at the underground facility in Germany long since filled, she expects to be relegated to being a mere team leader. Such a loss of status would have, in the past, caused her grief. But for now, she is happy just to be doing something that will keep her mind occupied.

  The night sky begins to fill with stars while the flames of the fire dwindle. Reluctantly, the once tight knit group goes their separate ways, and in ones and twos with either solemn or tearful farewells, people depart. Eventually, Cindy is the last one standing by the crackling embers. She shifts her gaze from the mesmerizing glow of the fire, and wistfully gazes up at the night sky. Someone else will command the Terran soon. I’m going to miss that ship, and all who served aboard. I will not forget those that gave their lives so that the rest of us could get home. She lifts her glass to the stars, and offers one last epitaph. Thank you Olaf, Jim, Daitaro, Akira, and… her thoughts falter as tears well in her eyes, and to the many others that died under my watch.

  Location:

  KGB Headquarters

  Minsk, Russia

  Peter is punctual, as usual, for the noon meeting with his superiors. He walks into the expansive room for the first time in his life. His trained eyes quickly discerning the details; dark colored, heavy looking drapes partially cover large windows, the cityscape’s taller buildings are evident in the distance. Numerous portraits of various leaders and other famous Russians adorn the walls. Large animal skins are scattered haphazardly over the floor. The overall effect makes him feel as though he has stepped back in time. A large wooden table dominates the center of the room, many of the chairs along its sides are occupied by old men. One of them stands from the table, and strides purposefully toward him. The dozen others remain passively seated at the impressive table.

  Peter is stunned when he recognizes the man walking his way, “Mister President, I am honored,” he says in surprise.

  “Welcome home Petrovich.” replies the President, there is genuine pleasure in his tone. “Take a seat.”

  Peter is a little taken aback, Petrovich, now that is a name I have not heard in a long, long time, “Thank you Sir,” he replies.

  The President turns to Igor, then nods authoritatively.

  Igor stands, and stares at Peter while rubbing his chin thoughtfully. With a quick glance around the room, he begins. “Well Petrovich, the truth is we’re not sure what to do with you,” he sighs. “Your cover is all but blown with the English, who incidentally, have asked that you never return to their soil.” A brief smile flickers across Igor’s face. “You’re not very popular with the French either!” He raises an eyebrow, then continues, “We were given a video which clearly shows you, along with Radclyf and his team, committing what would ordinarily be, an act of war.”

  Igor raises his hand, interrupting Peter who is about to comment. Igor continues on, almost sounding proud, “But, while these countries profess annoyance with your escapades,” he pauses for a moment, then a hint of incredulity creeps into his voice. “Each and every country has sent us unedited transcripts of the people they debriefed from the Terran. It seems the French did have a man on board, clandestinely.”

  This revelation stuns Peter, he is speechless.

  Pavel stands, steps back from the table, then adds his own thoughts, “We committee members are forced to conclude that your mission has therefore been a resounding success.”

  Pavel glances at Igor before continuing on, “We have considered your personal requests and wish to clarify the first one openly.”

  Peter gulps, this was not how he thought this would go. Before he can even say anything, Igor’s powerful voice dominates the room once again. “You wish to take an armed group of multinationals into an area, that even you don’t know which countries sovereignty will be violated. Iran, Iraq, Turkey, or?” Igor’s eyes rove the room dubiously before he continues on. “Once there, you wish to locate, and eliminate, a group of terrorists known as Malak’s hand.”

  Peter nods slowly at the absurd sounding plan, his plan. “Yes. That pretty much sums up what I am asking for.”

  The room becomes an instant buzz as the old men comment to each other. Some nod, some shake their heads. Igor grins while Pavel steps toward the windows and looks out at the cityscape.

  SLAP

  A wallet sized, yet heavy leather bound object lands on the table, then slides in Peter’s direction.

  The President’s face beams from ear to ear as he states. “Petrovich, less than ten of those have ever been issued, and as of right now, there is only one that is active.” The President points to the leather wallet on the table. “Pick it up, open it, it’s yours.”

  Peter stares at the thick leather wallet, his eyes not believing what they are seeing, is this what I think it is? He gulps as he picks it up, and opens it. The stories are true!

  Inside, embedded into a layer of plush red leather, rests a platinum metallic emblem. The Russian five pointed star has a golden hammer and sickle raised up on its center. The cover flap of the wallet is quite thick, affording protection to the impressive and obviously expensive ob
ject. Peter is stunned, he looks up at the President, then casts his gaze around the room.

  Igor states proudly, “Very few people have even seen a Red Star, fewer still can claim having ownership of one.” He waves his hands around the room, “None of us here, have ever had one.”

  Peter’s jaw drops in surprise as Igor continues, “Press on the central section and state your name.”

  Following Igor’s instructions, Peter feels a small click when he presses the raised golden hammer and sickle, “Petrovich,” he states passively.

  Igor nods, then continues, “The device is not as archaic as it appears. It has a built in GPS which allows a select few from this room to the locate you. This is useful in many ways, especially when confirming your identity, if needed. Pressing the hammer and sickle activates the device, say the word ‘strike’ and,” Igor grins cheekily, “get far away, fast!”

  Peter’s excitement builds as Igor continues explaining the device’s few, yet effective commands. Once Igor has finished, Peter puts the wallet in his jacket pocket. Turning to the group of men, he says with astonishment, “So. I simply present this to anyone ranked Major or higher, and they will provide me with whatever resources I need?”

  Igor nods, “Not only that. There is to be no record of your request, nor any record of you even being there. The computer system that monitors the Red Stars is programmed to automatically alert any base you are the vicinity of.”

  Peter is floored as Igor continues his instructions. A thought occurs to him, this thing gives the bearer supreme authority, over all but the people in this very room. Perhaps even over some of these. He is brought back to reality by the President’s words, “Be cautious when requesting nuclear assets, though they are not beyond your reach, we will be watching.” A chill runs up the back of his neck, even nuclear weapons, what power, what responsibility!