Alliance (Terran Chronicles Book 4)
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Book Four: Alliance
By James Jackson
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2014 James Jackson.
Also in the Terran Chronicles Series
My Amazon author page
eBook Novels
First Contact
Discovery
Colony
eBook Short Stories
Johnny’s Jaunt
Pythos
Jie’s World
End of Times
Joe’s Notes - Gamin Technology
Emma’s Legacy
www.TerranChronicles.com
Dedication
‘Alliance’ is dedicated to my friend, Leonard Kinn.
Acknowledgements
Many thanks go to my wife, Jairis, for listening to my ramblings as the Terran Chronicles Universe continues to come to life.
To Doug, Jeff, and the many others who have followed the development of this series, I thank you all for your constant support.
A special thank you goes to Shannon, who reviewed, then edited this story. I greatly appreciate the vast amount of time, energy, and effort, she contributes.
Another person I must thank is my longtime friend, Jason. His website design work and dedication is greatly appreciated.
To Kayla, who has drafted various pieces of artwork, I offer my deepest gratitude.
I also thank JoDee, the CEO of Show Style Brands, for her product placement efforts.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
In memory of Isaac Asimov, Arthur C Clarke, Robert Heinlein, Gene Roddenberry, and Leonard Nimoy, visionaries all.
SECRET CODE
The end of each novel of the Initiation Series has a special code.
Go to www.terranchronicles.com.
Under the relevant book enter the code exactly as it appears to unlock bonus material.
Editor Notes
Once again, I sit in wonder at this beautiful creation we have made. I am proud beyond words of my friend James Jackson. His mind works in ways I can barely comprehend. I am honored to be included in this project, and to be allowed to go on this amazing journey with Team Terran. - Shannon
Table of Contents
Preface
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1 - Home Sweet Home
Chapter 2 - Refit and Restock
Chapter 3 - Upward and Onward
Chapter 4 - Oglan World Revisited
Chapter 5 - Boys and Their Toys
Chapter 6 - Are We There Yet?
Chapter 7 - Derelict Demolition Day
Chapter 8 - Into the Fray
Chapter 9 - Pedal to the Metal
Chapter 10 - Night Falls Forever
Chapter 11 – Alliance: A New Beginning
Epilogue
Glossary
Preface
The starship Terran is on its way home to Earth once more. Its crew, led by Cindy Klein, is not looking forward to the monotonous task of performing shuttle runs to and from the recently established colony on New Earth. The spacecraft Liberty was supposed to be performing this duty, but instead, is now a permanent fixture of New Earth. Long grass grows around its landing pads, its once gleaming hull has been dulled by the elements. Emma’s hydroponic bays supplement the Colony’s dwindling food supplies, while the Gamin power unit provides the growing city with an abundance of energy. Without a constant flow of supplies from Earth, the colony’s only city, Hawking, faces difficult times.
“While we are free to choose our actions, we are not free to choose the consequences of our actions.” - Stephen R Covey
“Never underestimate the power of human stupidity.” - Robert A Heinlein
“It has yet to be proven that intelligence has any survival value.” - Arthur C Clark
I hereby welcome you to ‘Alliance’, book four of the Terran Chronicles Universe.
This is a work of fiction, or is this our ultimate destiny?
I hope you, the reader, enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
James Jackson
Introduction
The Terran remains the coalition’s only functioning spacecraft, and humanity’s single gateway to the stars. While the implementation of Gamin technologies for Earth-based uses is proving successful, the ability to construct a reusable spacecraft is not. General Hayes is under instruction to convince George to take the Terran on a special mission. But he is apprehensive, Regent Voknor of the Gamin has made it abundantly clear that the military will not control the Terran. Humanity’s destiny will be determined by events and decisions that take place within these pages.
Prologue
The Distant Past
While the cavemen of Earth huddle around simple campfires, eating crudely cooked meat along with whatever has been foraged, events beyond their comprehension are taking place far out in space. Even the most powerful telescopes designed by their distant children would be unable to witness the magnificent spectacle. But if they could see what was happening beyond the Milky Way, they would be awed, and terrified, at the same time.
The intergalactic drive systems of the colossal spacecraft, Dagris, begin to shut down. Hundreds upon hundreds of massive engines reduce their thrust. The bright glow from the rear of the ship visibly diminishes. The distance between the stars a mere hop in comparison to the distance between galaxies.
The vessel’s single power core, a miniature sun, redirects its abundant energies from the ship’s drive units to the internal systems. Darkened hallways and rooms light up all over the ship. Internal gravity is engaged, along with life support systems which begin the process of providing heat and fresh breathable air.
The vessel’s automatics cycle through a complex series of diagnostics before the crew is woken up. Scout Master Dagris, for whom the ship is named, is the leader of this expedition, and he is the first to wake.
Dagris opens his eyes slowly, and stares at the out of focus covering to his chamber. Laying on his back, he blinks rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision, and tries to ignore his thumping headache. He is so dry, his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. He lifts both of his arms and tries with all his might to focus on the feeding tubes which are attached to them. He tilts his head to the left.
Ouch!
Dagris is cruelly reminded of the cables attached to his scalp when the hair that has grown around them is pulled. A mist of water sprays over his body, startling him.
“Blast it,” Dagris curses. His heart races in his chest from the sudden adrenaline rush.
Remembering his training, Dagris turns his head into the mist and opens his mouth. The water sprays over his naked body, providing much needed moisture to his dry skin. A short time later, the water ceases, and the cover that blocks his view slides open revealing a dimly lit area.
Dagris yawns, stretches his aching body. While staring at the blurry lights he says, “Well, it’s about time.”
Taking a series of deep breaths Dagris feels his energy returning. Leaning to his right, he lifts a cover plate, then presses the single button inside. Instantly, the feeding tubes attached to his right arm cease injecting the nutrients which have sustained him during his slumber. He turns to his left and repeats the process, th
en carefully removes the tubes. Rubbing his arms alleviates the minor stinging sensation. The puncture holes leak small droplets of blood, which he promptly streaks up and down his arm as he rubs them all the more. The blood’s pink color is a stark contrast to his pasty white skin.
Next Dagris peels off the dozens of probes that are attached to his scalp. A task made much easier thanks to the moisture in his hair. He scratches at his itchy head in annoyance.
Finally Dagris sits up, stares off into the distance, and tries once more to get his eyes to focus. He mutters to himself, “I am glad the engineers went to two independent feeding systems. This alone has increased the survival rate of those inside the hibernetic stasis chambers significantly.”
“Dagris.” The synthesized voice startles him.
“Blast it,” Dagris says for the second time since waking. His heart races once again.
The voice continues as though his outburst never occurred, “Your muscular atrophy level is five percent, well within normal parameters.”
“Central,” Dagris replies, “Status report.”
The spacecraft’s computer system responds, “Condition nominal, target co-ordinates achieved, power stabilization routines in effect.”
“In other words,” Dagris, replies to the ship’s computer, “I have time for a shower.”
“Correct,” comes the intuitive, and unexpected reply.
Dagris lifts his eyebrows at the response, but says nothing. He takes his time exiting his chamber, then proceeds to withdraw his coverings that are stored beneath it. Standing and stretching his arms and legs, he gazes at his surroundings. Thousands of compartments just like his reach off into the distance. This room is merely one of dozens of such rooms spread out around the core of the intergalactic spacecraft, his intergalactic spacecraft, the Scout Ranger Dagris.
Dagris grins at the thought, and says, “Central, once power stabilization is complete, begin waking my command crew.”
“That request will require your security code.” Replies the ship’s computer.
Dagris is surprised by the response, and once again intones. “Blast it! When did they...” He sighs, and then says, “Never mind.”
“Continuous scanning mode reveals no targets, your request to fire is invalid,” Retorts the ship’s computer.
Dagris shakes his head at the obstinate computer, then makes his way to a cleaning room. He sings ballads as he showers, clips the nails on his six fingered hands, then removes the excess hair from his body. Some people find hair fashionable, he does not, and removes almost all of it. Finally he stares down at his feet, his toenails have grown so long some almost touch the floor. He trims all twelve nails, then dresses.
Clean and dry, Dagris stares at his clothed form in the mirror. His eyes are redder than normal, but nothing he is concerned with. They will return to their natural pink color soon enough. He grins with pride at the Imperial insignia which is attached above his corporate emblem. Suddenly he frowns, then leans closer to the mirror. He runs his fingers across his teeth, and is instantly disgusted at how blunt they feel.
“Blast it,” Dagris curses, then adds loudly, “That wasn’t an order, Central.”
Shaking his head he ponders, another price to pay for such a lengthy mission, but if successful, the rewards will be incalculable. He cleans, sharpens, and then polishes his teeth. Once he is satisfied with them, he strides with purpose to the command room.
A thin layer of dust covers the chairs and consoles that are arrayed around the room. Dagris frowns as he wonders, has it really been that long? He sits in his command chair, and deftly enters his complex security code. His long fingers move efficiently across the console. He checks the ship’s positional markers, and is pleased to discover that the ship is stationary in space, relative to the galaxy before him.
“Central.” Dagris states, then after a brief pause, he orders, “Wake ‘em all up.”
The computers reply is almost instantaneous, “Power core is at one percent of nominal, but within acceptable limits. Crew wake cycle commencing.”
Dagris stares at the crew casualty reports as they appear before him. As each room is cycled through, he becomes happier and happier. He grins excitedly when he reviews the last report, and says, “Great job Central, less than one percent casualty rate.”
He silently mimics the computer’s impassionate response of. “Fatalities are within acceptable limits for the mission brief.” Knowing it will take some time before his commanders arrive, Dagris examines the initial data of the Galaxy before him. He smiles as he sees the information from the ship’s sensors matches that from the probes sent long ago.
“Joldar, reporting for duty,” intones the voice of his main officer, and friend.
Dagris turns to him and grins, “You live! Would you believe all the command crew survived?” he asks cheerfully.
Joldar grins back and says, “So we have to share the spoils of conquest with more of our brethren,” he shrugs his shoulders and says excitedly, “but, we are the first, and as such have spoilage rights from all that follow.” His sharp teeth glint menacingly in the light.
Dagris turns as another joins them, “Ah, Lapso,” he says with a grin, “You live.”
The group waits for the other commanders to arrive. They are in no hurry, yet review the galaxy before them with ambitious and greedy eyes.
Two more men enter the room, and after a series of greetings, Dagris speaks. “This galaxy is enormous, so there will be plenty for all.”
The men nod in agreement, but remain quiet, they have yet to hear their leader’s terms.
Dagris continues, “Before we begin, let’s eat.” He grins as he points to a wall panel.
They expect to find synthetic tasteless plasma, but instead, when they open the panel are greeted with live wichu. They’re so large they require both hands to hold.
Dagris walks to the panel, selects one for himself, and simply says, “Enjoy.”
They all sink their sharp teeth into the soft bodied grubs. Juices spurt into their mouths and run down their chins. All that can be heard is the sounds of sucking, slurping, and swallowing. They discard the empty husks into a disposal unit, clean themselves, and wait.
“Okay,” Dagris says, “Joldar, Lapso, Mylic, and Draco, Central has divided the galaxy into quadrants, and sectors. Assign your scouts to their sectors, offer them bountiful contracts, and you will see rewards beyond measure.”
Joldar stares at his console as more data is received, “this galaxy is so rich, every scout will have more planets to explore than they could imagine.”
Draco rubs his chin thoughtfully, “And your cut of the profits, Dagris?” His question is almost insolent, but that is to be expected of him.
Dagris leans forward and touches the imperial embalm on his chest, “They require twenty-five percent.” He then touches his corporate logo, and then continues, “As do our sponsors.” Grinning, he makes them wait, then finally he says, “And I will take one percent.”
All four men are stunned, no expedition leader has ever taken such a low margin. Dagris sits back in his chair and adds, “One percent of this Galaxy is the same as ten percent of most others.”
The ship’s computer intones, interrupting the discussion. “Wake cycle complete, diverting power to maneuvering.”
Dagris grins excitedly, then says, “Central, charge the scout ships.”
Throughout the enormous ship, thousands of crewmen prepare for the next leg of their journey. Rumors quickly spread of the spoils that will come their way. Each crew member checks their own scout ship, then once satisfied, secures themselves inside.
The Scout Ranger Dagris accelerates to an incomprehensible speed as it moves toward the Galactic edge. Its intergalactic drives pulse at minimal thrust, and still the stars rush at them. The crew showers and eats while they wait for further instructions. They are still preparing for their upcoming mission when the ship begins to decelerate again.
The ship’s computer i
ntones. “Establishing galactic orbit relative to core systems. Matching spiral arm rotational factors.”
Power fluctuates throughout the ship for the briefest of seconds, then returns to normal.
Dagris frowns, but when Central remains silent, he relaxes. Turning to his commanders, he says. “Send the scouts, prepare to launch the miners.”
The four men grin, not only will their mining rights make them all wealthy beyond measure, according to the preliminary scans, there is no one to oppose them. All they have to do is survey as many planets as they can, then the automatic mining craft will do the rest. Should they run into any opposition, they will be easily dispatched.
Dagris sits in his command chair once more and watches as thousands of scout craft begin to leave his ship. He reflects with pride. The empire depleted the resources of twenty-seven planets to build this vessel. The Company then invested its wealth into the scout craft. The biggest hurdle has been crossed, now to mine, and then return. The profits will please them greatly.
Joldar climbs into his own scout, and launches it. Once he is in open space, he stares back at the mother ship. He gulps at its size, as he too reflects on the considerable effort required to build such a craft. Its power core is a small sun which rests in the middle of a giant wedge, one that points toward the center of the Galaxy. The ship’s forward section curves up and around the bright core on all sides, barely encompassing a third of its size. The rear section, which houses the ship’s drive systems, also curves around the power core, encompassing a mere quarter of its size. Support struts the size of city skyscrapers curve around the ball of energy on all sides, connecting the front and rear sections together. It is from these structures that the numerous scout ships have launched. The autonomous mining facilities remain behind, for now, nestled in the gaps between these curved struts. He turns his attention away from the Dagris and focuses on his target area, a sliver of space that reaches from the edge of the galaxy toward its center.