by C J Klinger
TheKhruellian
Encounter
Book Three of the McKinnah Chronicles
By
C.J.Klinger
COPYRIGHT©2019C.J.KLINGER
Books by C.J. Klinger
Islandia: The Lost Colony (Book One of the McKinnah Chronicles)
The Rise of the Confederation (Book Two of the McKinnah Chronicles)
The Khruellian Encounter (Book Three of the McKinnah Chronicles)
The McKinnah Chronicles (History of the McKinnah Clan)
The Rembrandt Bomb (With James C. Moore)
The Isabella List
The Q Source
The Reckoning Season
The Trap Shooter
MECRATS
Seeking Miss Right
A Dead Person (2019)
The Ninth Cat Walk (Short story)
Dedication
No book is written in a void. It requires extraordinary cooperation by a number of people, starting with the creative demon residing in the author’s mind. In the interim, editors, cover designers, publishers, friends, and family wait patiently until the creative process is completed. In the end, a book is published with only the author’s name on the cover. This dedication is a small effort to recognize those who contributed to “The Khruellian Encounter.” I owe my sincere thanks to my editor and publisher, David Smart, and to James Wintle for his awesome cover art. I owe my deepest thanks to my wife, Janet, for her constant encouragement, her candid appraisals of my story ideas, and her generous rationalizations of my failures.
Chuck Klinger
January 2019
Preface
In the many eons of their existence, the Ankh had never suffered such indecision. They researched, they discussed, they debated, they voted, and when required, acted. On occasion, they experienced confusion until additional facts became evident, but never indecision. The debate, centered on an insignificant species occupying a small portion of a minor galactic arm raged on.
The Ankh had first encountered them during the species’ early development stage as an organized civilization. The humans, as they called themselves were similar to thousands of other sentient species in the galaxy with one exception; they were unusually adaptable. The Ankh knew from their studies that all life forms had to be flexible to survive in a constantly evolving universe, but very few sentient species adapted to changing conditions as quickly as the humans. In the few short years of their existence, they had gained the ability to survive in the most extreme conditions. This ability intrigued the Ankh, whose sole purpose was to examine and study the many manifestations of life created by IS-Life, the Trinity member they considered responsible for all life in the universe. The other members of the Trinity, IS-Matter, and IS-Energy were also studied, but to a lesser degree than IS-Life.
This unique ability prompted the Ankh to seed the immediate area of the humans’ homeworld with a series of Ares, Autonomous Robotic Explorer Scouts to keep track of the humans’ development. After several thousand years of watching and waiting, one of these Ares befriended a human settler on a remote planet. In time, the Ares switched its allegiance from the Ankh to the human it had helped, and in a matter of years, the humans created an interstellar confederation of other human worlds. At first, the Ankh had threatened to take action against the Ares for giving the humans the secret of the IS-Drive until they learned the humans had actually worked out the mystery of the FTL drive themselves.
Now the humans, along with other sentient species were engaged in a bitter war for survival. The struggle itself was not the issue that vexed the Ankh. They accepted all such conflicts as inevitable between expanding sentient species. What set this one apart was the humans were being forced to take a drastic action that might endanger the Ankh’s relationship with the almighty IS.
The great debate went on whether to interfere with the humans’ action. Their debate waffled back and forth with no faction gaining a logical high ground. It threatened a million years of harmony between several million entity minds. Underlying the debate was the Ankh’s concerns over how the IS-Life would react to the actions the humans were contemplating. If the IS-Life disapproved, it could mean the end of the Ankh.
Chapter 1
Aboard the CSF New London
The duty officer put her arms above her head and stretched as far as she could without taking her eyes off the holographic display. She did a series of relaxation maneuvers to ease the tension and fight the fatigue that pestered her in the final hour of her watch. The screen was hypnotic; everything more massive than an asteroid within ten light years of the ships was displayed in exacting detail. The operator could select any one of the white dots and study a close-up of a star, planet or moon. It was the only thing that made the duty watch bearable.
The hiss of an opening door warned her she had company. She quickly resumed her normal posture, knowing immediately who had come on the deck. Her action was not quick enough to escape the attention of her commanding officer, Captain Briscoe.
“You can get up and move about, if you like, Lieutenant. I’ll relieve you for a minute,” the captain said.
Lieutenant Joyce Mahon was not surprised that Captain Briscoe was up during the dog watch, the time when most of the ship’s company was off duty and presumably asleep. Nor was she surprised he had offered to give her a short break from her sentinel duties. She knew the Captain’s offer to relieve her was not based on any concern for her well-being. In the past six months, he had offered to take her chair on several occasions. She accepted his offer and watched him run through the search protocols. His face revealed how much he missed the hands-on experiences his junior officers enjoyed.
After a moment, Captain Briscoe relinquished the seat with an audible sigh, and Lieutenant Mahon resumed her duties.
“Carry on, Lieutenant,” the Captain said and departed, accompanied by the same hiss that had announced his arrival.
“Does he do that very often?” The newly minted ensign at the engineering chair asked.
Lieutenant Mahon smiled at Ensign Baker’s naïve question. She remembered her own reality checks between what the academy taught and what actually happened aboard ship.
“As often as he wants to,” she answered without elaborating. In time the ensign would learn. She scanned the display making sure nothing new had popped up while the captain had occupied her chair. The CSF New London had jumped to this location twenty hours earlier, and since then the ship’s Talo had been plotting the precise location and movement of every significant celestial body within ten light years. The safety of every CSF ship in the future would depend on the extreme accuracy of that survey; accuracy that only a Talo-AI could deliver. They would not advance to the next location until the ship’s computer had completed its mapping procedure.
The CSF New London was two months into the latest effort by the Confederation of Independent Planets to map the universe within five hundred light years of their capital planet, Newhope. The task was daunting. For every light year away from the central point, the volume of space grew exponentially. Space command estimated it would take fifty years to complete the current exploration schedule, but the CSF Assembly considered the time and money well spent. Once an area of space was surveyed and recorded in the central Talo system, any confederation ship could jump to that location instantly, a vital defense mechanism in a universe full of unknown dangers
At the extreme edge of the display a small green symbol appeared. Lieutenant Mahon sat up straight. It was not the first time it had happened, but each time it had, it indicated the ship’s Talo had found signs of an oxygen/carbon-based life form. Life was not rare in the universe. It was far more plentiful than previous astronomers had ever imagined, but
the possibility of sentient life caused the Lieutenant’s heartbeat to increase.
She pressed the com and informed the captain of the new contact. Turning to the Ensign, she said, “Focus your sensors on that location, Baker. Let’s see if the life form there is capable of broadcasting anything.”
When the first sound of voices came through her command chair speaker, she was surprised and delighted, sentient life. This was an incredible event. While waiting for the captain to arrive, she asked the ship’s Talo to monitor the transmission in an attempt to develop a language pattern. To Lieutenant Mahon surprise, the ship’s Talo immediately reported the origin of the language being spoken.
“Latin?” she repeated incredibly.
Chapter 2
Space Command, Newhope
William Franklyn tried his best not to gawk at the passing view of the magnificent gardens and common areas as he rode the high-speed maglev from central Newhope City to the CSF Space Command complex fifteen kilometers to the south. The newly appointed Terran representative to the CSF Assembly wanted very much to appear to be an experienced interstellar traveler, but he finally gave up and craned his neck to look at the richness of the beautiful passing landscape.
William Franklyn was a product of Earth, and as such he considered Earth’s extreme crowding, the restricted living conditions, and the lack of green space to be the natural order of things. Newhope’s vista of vast areas devoted to gardens and green space and the endless stretches of the uninhabited planet seemed to him to be an almost obscene display of wealth.
Until last month Franklyn had been a junior representative in Earth’s Democratic Peoples’ Party. His party’s recent election to power, plus the final disbanding of the Industrial Council had removed the last barriers to Earth’s admission to the CSF. The new president of the Terran Congress had asked him to represent Earth at the CSF Assembly until a permanent member was appointed. He had been delighted to accept the appointment.
The driving force behind Earth’s twenty-three-year push to join the Confederation was over-population. From the very moment the legendary Captain Jonathon McKinnah first visited Earth in 3381 and demonstrated the practicality of interstellar flight, the people of Earth had dared to dream of migrating to other worlds to escape from the staggering conditions caused by thirty billion people.
The cost of moving and supporting even a small percent of Earth’s excess population was going to be enormous, but it was not possible at all without habitable planets to immigrate to. Today he was on his way to meet the person who could identify those potentially habitable planets. Getting that information was an essential first step in making Earth’s dream a real possibility.
At 200 kilometers an hour, the trip took less than five minutes. William experienced an unexpected sense of loss when the green vistas disappeared as the mag-lev train slipped below the surface for the last kilometer to the Space Command headquarters. Knowing it would be there when he returned buoyed his step as he departed the maglev compartment. He saw an impeccably dressed officer in a CSF Space Command uniform waiting for him. As protocol demanded the officer waited for William to extend his hand in greeting.
The officer returned Williams’ handshake with a firm grip and said, “Good Afternoon, Sir. Welcome to Space Command Headquarters. My name is Captain Ben King. The Admiral is expecting you.”
The elevator ride was short because buildings taller than ten stories were not permitted on Newhope. When the doors opened, Franklyn was greeted with a panoramic view of the spaceport. The Captain did not object when the Terran representative crossed the lobby and lingered at the window. At least fifty CSF spaceships were in port, everything from small, ten-man destroyers to one, massive dreadnaught with a crew of 130. Earth had an impressive commercial fleet of its own, but no significant military armada. Since the end of the Muhyba war, Earth was allowed to use the IS-Drive for interstellar commercial purposes, but all military activities were restricted to their own solar system. The Confederation owned the technology and controlled the distribution and use of the drive.
Under the rules of the Constitution, the Individual Confederation members were not permitted to have their own interstellar space force. All such forces were consolidated into a central command under the control of the General Assembly of the CIF, the Confederation of Independent Planets. Admiral Dexter was the man in charge of those ships and men.
Breaking away from the view, William smiled apologetically at the patiently waiting officer and followed him to an impressive set of doors. The Captain knocked once and opened them. “The Admiral will see you now.”
A tall, lean man with short, iron-grey hair stood at the window looking at the same view William had just been admiring. At the sound of the knock he turned and walked toward William. In spite of his rank and probable age that went with such a responsibility, Admiral Max Dexter exuded the vitality of a much younger man. William was acutely aware that this man was the supreme commander of all those spaceships he had just admired.
“Representative Franklyn, welcome aboard,” the admiral said shaking the Terran’s hand and then pointed to a pair of comfortable chairs.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Admiral Dexter,” William said accepting the invitation to sit.
“Actually, Sir, you have saved me a trip to the Assembly to welcome you to the Confederation,” Admiral Dexter said. “The Space Force has eagerly waited for the day when Earth joins our organization in mutual interest.” He sat back and waited for the Terran to state his business.
William decided to jump right in. The admiral had graciously agreed to see him with little notice, and he saw no reason to waste the man’s time. Still, he hesitated, “Sir, I have been instructed to ask you for a copy of the CSF’s stellar survey. It is our understanding that all members of the CSF are entitled to a copy.”
Admiral Dexter was not surprised at the request. His intelligence staff had advised him to expect it soon after Earth was admitted to the CSF, but he was curious to learn what excuse Terra would use to want the report now instead of waiting for the planned exchange of information scheduled for later in the year.
The admiral said, “You are correct, Mr. Franklyn, the confederation members get a vetted report each quarter.” He emphasized the words “Vetted” and “Quarter.” Before William could say anything, the admiral went on, “I was under the impression Terra had a vigorous exploration program of its own, Mr. Franklyn.”
William nodded his head in agreement, “We do Admiral, but it is of a specialized nature.”
The Admiral smiled in encouragement as if expecting more information. William Franklyn’s problem was he did not know the exact nature or extent of Earth’s deep-space exploration program. It had not been part of his briefing before he left Earth. The silence stretched on for a moment until the Admiral said, “I’ll see that you a copy before you leave for Earth, William, if I may call you that.”
“By all means, Sir,” William responded. He had no intentions of asking the admiral if he could call him by his first name. Something about the man did not invite that kind of familiarity.
“However,” the admiral continued, “I will expect to receive a complete copy of Earth’s findings in their space exploration program in return. You can understand that, can’t you William?” The admiral said with an unblinking stare.
The Earth representative was suddenly glad his appointment to Newhope was not a permanent one in spite of the pleasure he derived from seeing so much green space. “Yes sir, I do. I shall immediately relay your request.”
They both rose from their chairs in recognition they had nothing more to discuss. With a small bow, Franklyn excused himself and followed the Captain out of the Admiral’s office.
After Captain King returned from escorting the representative back to the waiting maglev car, he entered the admiral’s office.
“What do you think, Ben?” Admiral Dexter asked his aide, leaning back in his chair.
“A 2n
d level diplomat doing what he was told to do. Certainly not a policymaker,” Captain Benjamin King answered candidly, as he knew the admiral would expect him to.
Admiral Dexter nodded his head in agreement. “I’m sure the next person they send will be a career politician and no pushover.”
Ben King was still learning his boss’ thinking process. The admiral had made it plain he wanted him to express his opinion in these kinds of discussion, so he spelled out the thought running through his mind. “Should we take advantage of Mr. Franklyn’s inexperience?”
Admiral Dexter smiled at his aide, rewarding the young man for thinking of all the tactical possibilities. “I think not, Ben. Give him everything he asks for. Someday he may be in a policymaking position and could be more inclined to help us when we really need the help.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll see that he gets a copy of the vetted report.”
After his aide left, Admiral Dexter resumed his position at the window. It was his favorite thinking spot. The final approval of Earth’s twenty-three-year-old application to join the Confederation of Independent Planets presented a dilemma to the CSF’s space force and by default, to the current commander in chief, Admiral Dexter. By law, all members were entitled to full access to any information gathered from the exploration of space by the CSF. This included mineral surveys, habitable worlds, and sentient life form discoveries.
Since the end of the Muhyba War, the CSF had been engaged in a vigorous exploration of the space within five hundred light years of Newhope. The Muhyba War had revealed how vulnerable the new Confederation was from unknown sentient life forms. The difficulty was the scale of the task. The Confederation occupied an area approximately twenty light years across. That translated into a sphere containing 2,356 cubic light years, a vast space by any measurement. The advent of the IS-Drive drive made it possible to form a confederation by reducing the distances between planets to a single FTL jump from one out-of-atmosphere location to another planet’s similar position. Such maneuvers required extraordinarily accurate measurements of the movement of all significant celestial bodies in the vicinity of each planet. These movements were recorded in a master Talo computer buried deep in the bedrock below the labs at Gruenwald on Islandia. A redundant copy was located below Newhope city. When a CSF spaceship was given a mission within the CSF sphere of influence, the pertinent survey information for that area was loaded into the ship’s Talo, giving the captain the ability to move effortlessly to and around his assigned mission area.