The Fathers, page 19
part #1 of Doragon Series
Small animals scurried from tree to tree. Snaps, Fleesons and such. Even the tiniest flying creatures made noises, multi-toned squeaks, and rumbling buzzing. The winds spoke by tickling the thick leaves, many shades of green, pale hues of browns.
Rogan breathed out, then quieted his body from within. One by one, he removed the sounds from his mind’s ear as trained. The scurrying playful creatures safe in the bows of the ancient trees, the buzzing chirping sounds of squawks in the air, then finally, the so light and soft current of the breeze through the colorful leaves of those ancient trees. Sienna closed her big blue eyes and did as she understood. Quiet.
“Can you hear that, Sienna? Can you hear the sound? It’s like someone or something is crying.” He rubbed his fingers through his thick hair, then shook his head vigorously as if parts of his mind needed to reassemble.
“I must be losing my mind. Too much time in the forest by ourselves.”
He waited. The sound didn’t get stronger, but no matter which way he tried to localize, it seemed to come from everywhere, growing in intensity.
The memories burst forth from behind the hidden cobwebbed places. The memory of love, of pain, of joy, of sorrow, of his life all spoke at once. Then a sound, strangely familiar, hiding in the dark places of his memory. He thought he heard his mother cry. But it was not her. She was long gone, dead from the hate of a hideous dragon.
As if the sound knew of his presence, it deepened, sharpened, grew louder until it filled his ears. It was not painful, but it filled his mind. It grew to a distant rhythmic thudding as if a drumbeat in the forest. It filled the inside of his body, reaching down with each volley, synchronizing his heart with each thunderous pulse. He suddenly knew what it was, as if he always had known. Sienna gave her master a puzzled look, not understanding the feelings she sensed, her sensitive ears unable to hear what he heard.
Rogan kept his mind centered on the sound and the direction. He tugged on the leads and said, “Go,” in a tone that Sienna understood as all-out haste, do not stop or hesitate. Even if the master fell off for whatever reason, she was to continue on and protect whoever needed cover.
Instantly Armsman and Seabra were in motion. Sienna winded their way through the dense bush between trunks of venerable old trees, each tree in its own windy voice screaming “faster.” Rogan lay flat and gripped Sienna’s neck horn. She obeyed the call. Never before had a Seabra shot through a primordial forest as Sienna did that day.
Rogan and Sienna were one, her iron feet barely touching the hard forest floor, his body melding into her frame, both leaping effortlessly over magnificent old fallen trees, weaving between the trunks as if they were but twigs.
“Faster, Sienna, there is a someone in danger.” Rogan's voice was strong as any King, commanding with unquestionable certainty. There was no doubt. His heart told his mind to remember the sound of the tears.
Sienna snorted in agreement. Her heart beat hard, pumping out pure Seabra energy into speed. Nothing alive was as fast as she was. She saw herself on the grandest Speedway. Tree trunks moved from her path. Her creature’s heart felt the white wave of love explode around her. What it was existed beyond the understanding of her humble mind. But her heart knew.
Minutes later, they entered a clearing of sorts, with far fewer tree trunks. The forest sounds returned to the normal buzz of a busy daylight forest. The sky was still mostly blotted out, but the ground harbored sorts of flowers and the lushest green grasses in patches here and there. Some ten meters before them, Rogan saw something he did not expect to run into in a forest of this size, let alone on the roadway.
“Easy, Sienna, let’s not spook her.” Rogan slipped off her back. “Follow me closely. We are still in danger. Sniff quietly.”
As he closed the distance, he noticed red flowers at his feet, almost stepping his battle boots on one. For a moment he swore the thing tried to bend away. The flower could not avoid his fingers. Acting on impulse, he picked it. A strong scent released, creamy and delicious.
Suddenly the figure leaning up against the old tall tree sniffed, coughed, and then let out a long agonizing sigh. She looked like she was spit from the filthy ground. Dirty, hair everywhere from what he could see because her head was in her hands. Clothes torn and boots missing. Now he knew who the boot belonged to.
“Not a good time for a dragon,” Rogan said, looking up at the patchy sky above.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lieutenant, Orel Fyodorovich, Junior Analyst Fourth Level Science Protectorate assigned to the Regional Science Committee, was enjoying his command. Technically his second but the first with actual live subordinates. Most just called him Orel because the last name was not worth the effort. He, Junior Communications offices Sub Lieutenant Lizette Gupta and Pilot Corporal Peter Kapp felt comfortable in the newest edition of science frigate designed for inter-system monitoring and surveillance. Their mission: patrol the assigned sector with all passive detection equipment in listen mode. Report any suspect inner system traffic. Any serious signals not identifiable were relayed to the nearby regional base where the contact was followed up on accordingly. For ships skulking around, they found local Might Armada garrison of quite interest. Everything else went up the decision ladder.
When the ship’s mini AI sniffed an unknown signal tickling its sensitive sensors attached to the array on the hull, Sub Lieutenant Gupta nearly choked on her rations. The sudden whoop and flashing warning red lights got everyone’s attention.
“What was that, Gupta?” Orel asked, not hiding the annoyance. “If it is harmonics, log it and forget.” He did not like being interrupted by waste-of-time events. Study for the Senior Analyst exams took most of his attention, the testing scheduled no less than thirteen empire days coming. Gupta’s delay in answering the question further annoyed him.
After sending commands to the ship’s mini AI via her mind links, she turned to face Orel, a puzzled look hanging over her face. “It's very odd, sir. It's weak but steady and on 2060 gigahertz. Not on the database for deployment use this sector. That is why the AI notified.”
“Look, Gupta, you know the drill. Space is full of drifting noise. We must know if it’s spurious static, a star tossing its outer shell, or an attack.” Orel knew what he said was almost stupid. Who would attack the Fathers Empire anymore.
“Yes, sir. I understand. I have reset the directional antenna and locked in the icon amps. The signal is directional but weak. Can we focus on this heading for one AU? I know it will take us from our normal patrol.” Orel noted her request needed a “but.” They were on board. Nothing new ever seemed to happen.
His annoyance fled away like vapor, and Orel piped into the common ship channel, “Pilot, make the heading Comm gave you. Best speed without upsetting the AI detection. We have a weak contact we are working. Hold the course for the time being. Do not exceed half AU without my authorization. Understood.”
“Aye, sir, understood.” Pilot Corporal Peter Kapp did not like this assignment. A science frigate was far below his potential. Over his pilot’s chair on the overhead engine console was hung an old-style picture of a Harrow A-404 Mark V stealth attack craft. Single seater, fully armed with all modern weapons and capable of vacuum and atmospheric operation. Back in his small sleeping quarters at regional command, he had a dozen or more scaled metal models of fleet attack fighters. Especially the Harrow. Buzzing the carrier deck at super sonic landed him this backwater assignment. He so wanted to step on the throttle and see what this frigate could do, not what the specs said. Maybe later when the other two took a sleep break.
“The signal is gone, Lieutenant.” Gupta focused hard on the controls, trying to nurse the signal back from the soupy stellar music.
Orel signed, thought for a moment, then decided to violate the rules of staying in the patrol area and handing off contacts to command for decisions. Finding something interesting would not hurt his upward progress. Probably nothing anyway, he reasoned. He quietly interfaced with the ship-wide recording system to ensure he could blank the records. A trick he learned from his last commander just before Internal Security ended the man’s career.
“Pilot. On the heading full light speed until further notice. Understood,” ordered Orel.
Kapp moaned inside. “Aye, sir.” The Lieutenant spoke to him like he was just out of the academy.
Orel could feel the smile on Sub Lieutenant Gupta’s face. “We shall take a quick look, Sub Lieutenant Gupta. You best be quick on the AI to sort any signal,” he said, trying to be a generous commander.
Two Empire hours later, after sitting for another full hour listening to background radiation, Gupta nearly jumped from her chair, pulling the old-style hard lines from her little ears.
“Sir, it is there. I got a much better signal,” she said with far too much emotion than Might Armada officers typically showed. Orel made a mental note to caution her later. “And it is gone again. But I got a decent data set.”
“Okay, calm down, Sub Lieutenant. Just do your job. Be quick about it. We are off our patrol path.”
“I have, sir. The AI has decoded the signal. It’s an encoded personal shuttle beacon. Empire shuttle, sir. The angular shift returns fourteen light years.” Gupta breathed hard, showing excitement of youth. Tolerated but dangerous with the wrong commanders.
“Why would a personal shuttle beacon be on 2060 gigahertz?” Orel asked, then added, “Personal beacons are good for what?” Before he could finish, Gupta stepped in, “A few AU at best. They are for close transport to fleets, for example. And not 2060 gigahertz. This is an old frequency, not used any longer.”
Orel interrupted, “Calm, Sub Lieutenant. Draw up the sphere of possible signal origin for me with Empire bases.”
“That’s the thing, sir. It is not omnidirectional, as a beacon should be, sir. Spreading outward in all directions. It is a directional beam. Rather, a pulse with very short pauses in the order of PI nanoseconds. Give me enough time and I can break it down more.” She turned to Orel and pointed in the direction of the source of the signal. “From that direction, sir. I did not know personal shuttle beacons can do that. Does not make sense, sir.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as if what she had to say was top secret. “One more thing. The signal has the personal shuttle’s pilots code inside. Not encrypted. I have referenced the code. It belongs to Zou Shuren. Master Planet Supervisor. He is, or was, a Planet Supervisor for the region.”
Orel rubbed his bald head. He looked at Gupta’s stark white hairless head, wishing his skin wasn’t so white. “I have to call this into command. Keep listening for the signal to return. And get me any data you can on this Zou Shuren.” A few minutes later, regional command worked his emergency call up the chain. All the way up. He felt his throat tighten when a two bar Admiral entered the call.
A full hour passed before Lieutenant Orel turned to face Gupta, his face barely containing surprise. He would need a session with the regional physico-mental unit before debriefing by command.
“New orders, pilot. Follow the heading previously set. Maximum the drives. We are headed to a system listed as ZS-109-ZX-19092. We are to observe and report. Go to the source of the comm signal and gather as much data as possible. People, we are headed to an incubator system. We all know the primary rule. Do not interfere with the incubation. Understood?”
A long second lapsed. “Aye, sir,” said Kapp. A second later the physical viewports went matte black as the little ship’s drive entered quantum space.
Gupta asked, “I do not know the mapping system by heart but those signifiers are quite low on the Incubator Score Scale. You know of this, Orel?”
“Yes, I do Gupta. ISS. This is not my first mission,” Orel quickly added for the other two to have full understanding. “But it is an incubator. We know our duty to the Fathers.”
Orel opened a private line to Gupta. He said via scram voice interface, “Admiral Kerchief briefed me in virtual. Seems the incubator has gone offline. Has not reported in for some fifteen Empire years. We go there and check out what we can see with our gear. See if we can isolate the signal more to locate the shuttle. I do not have all the details but it seems some heads will roll on this. Incubators do not go offline without command getting orders from as far up as the Fathers. And, he told me this incubator has a problematic past. Something about embarrassing our Might Armada. We need to get this dealt with ASAP and keep our mouths tight. We are the only science vessel close enough to respond, so it’s me and you, Gupta, to work on.” It was not important to lower his silent words to a whisper; there was no way Kapp could hear them, yet he did anyway just because. “Keep an eye on the pilot. He has a reputation of not following orders to the letter.” Gupta agreed. She heard of some of the man’s antics.
Orel couldn’t help himself. This event excited him. A chance to prove himself. If he managed to fail the upcoming exams, this event would white away all failures. He felt giddy at the prospect. Maybe more than one session with physico-mental was in order.
Meanwhile, the Sub Lieutenant smiled more than appropriate, but she didn’t care. She saw a promotion in the works, maybe a science posting on the outer arm where discoveries were still happening.
“Does the system have a proper name? I understand most incubators have a name. I am just being curious,” asked Gupta.
“Doragon,” replied Orel.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kazimir could not believe it. Allen interrupted with a “Mate, hold up there.”
“Why have you stopped the story, Allen?” Kazimir leaned into Allen to see the bearded man’s red-streaked eyes. “There is so much more to relate. Do you not wish to know what shall happen to Rogan and the Princess?”
Allen let out a long sigh. Kazimir sat back in his chair. “Of course, mate,” Allen said. “Best story for me so far. How ya got from natives and swords to spaceships, I dunno.” Allen laughed a little as he rose from the table, “Need to use the boy's room. Be back in a jiffy. Order some more green stuff and pretend food if ya will.” Before turning towards the restroom at the other side of the now crowded bar, he looked back at the puzzled, somewhat hurt-looking Kazimir to say, “It’s just a tad hard to believe the story, that’s all, mate. But ya got old Al’s attention. Be right back, mate.” With that, Allen slipped away, once having to dance around Martha. She took up a lot of space wiggling around between tables.
Kazimir forced himself to relax. His mind cleared away thoughts of the story. Images of what he left behind, the old Kazimir surfaced like an old face in the pond, and with effort he replaced the cruel memories of killing, burning bodies, smashed civilizations with thoughts of her, the Queen Princess Rheanna. She saved him from a righteous death. A death he deserved. Now, life like he never knew coursed through a heart revitalized with the reinvigorating words of love. He wondered about his choice in Allen. Something told him it was right. Checking his new feelings over again still returned the logical answer. Too many coincidences. Getting the old traveler to believe the story remained the pressing problem Kazimir needed to think through.
“The Universe has many secrets.” One of the many teachings Queen Princess Rheanna had shared with him. Her wisdom crushed his belief in the infallibility of the Fathers.
A vision of the Queen Princess exploded all around, dissolving the bar into nothing. Heat pressed from every direction, piercing every inch of his skin, filling lungs with hot air. Peeling his crusting eyes open, he saw her standing far away between screaming flames licking the angry black clouds. He tried to speak, but the pressing heat stopped words cold before leaving his mind. Her face, contorted from the waves of fire, still beautiful, hair full to the superheated breeze, eyes of amber laser focused on him. She raised her delicate finger to her ruby lips of truth. “Hate is upon you. Run now.”
Allen said for the third time, poking Kazimir’s shoulder hard, “Are you okay, mate?”
Kazimir rubbed his eyes. Allen slouched down to look him in the face. Sweat fell from Kazimir’s curly eyebrows. He wiped the moisture away. “Yes, Allen. We must leave. Now.” Kazimir rose quickly, almost knocking Allen to his backside.
“What’s the matter, mate?”
Kazimir grabbed the old traveler’s arm with a bony hand, squeezing just enough to cause Allen to grimace. “Now, Allen. You will come with me.” Kazimir’s old commanding voice took over.
The two moved quickly through the bar. Martha tried to intersect. Allen yelled, “Take the bill off my chip.” She looked truly sad, then a cheeky smirk filled her face. Allen just gave her the okay to charge his account without his penny-pinching eye.
Out in the dimly lit narrow hallway, Allen caught his panting breath to say, “Good grief, man. What’s the problem?” Allen tried to free the death-like grip on his arm. “Has the hull been breached, mate? There be safe doors on this spinner.”
Kazimir turned Allen around as if he were nothing more than a figurine. “Hate has come for me. And for you. Can you not feel the presence?”
Allen looked hurt. “Hate? I don’t hate anything or anyone. Well, except for that fat emperor.” Allen looked to one side as if someone was watching. “And me ex-wives.”
“Quiet, Allen,” snapped Kazimir, his voice so deep and resonating that Allen looked like he had been hit by a rubber stick.
They stood in the narrow hallway for minutes while Kazimir looked at the steel floor grate. Allen started to feel very nervous. He did not know why but something was pricking his sixth sense. A pain, in the background, but there inside his chest like a distant annoying dog yapping.
Then Kazimir jerked on Allen’s arm again, pulling him down the hallway. Around a ninety-degree turn, then along another dim corridor. Such were space complexes like this one. Short halls with lots of sharp angles turned to help prevent any leaking radiation spreading. For each section, a second airtight door segmented the structure, protecting from the hull breaching sucking the atmosphere out along with fragile life.
