If you want a good laugh try saying something like this to a twelve year old and see what happens: “Well son/daughter, let me tell you why doing good is so important.” I can guarantee you will see their eyes roll into their sockets and their brains turn into mashed potatoes. You might as well be puffing air into to their ears because that’s about all they’ll get out of it. Instead of the direct approach, I like the indirect approach. Think about this line of reasoning.
To travel faster than the speed of light you will need to look at space exploration in an entirely new way.
1. The first thing you will need to know is that the universe is connected by rivers of eternity that combine and interconnect with each others like worm holes. These intergalactic worm holes are called space vortexes. A space vortex is made of pure flowing intelligence, energy so elementary it has a consciousness of its own.
2. The space vortex flows outside of the dimension of time. It is eternal in nature; therefore it cannot be corrupted or manipulated. To enter a space vortex you need to call it with music. If it likes your song, it will let you in and drop you off where you musically told it you wanted to go.
3. Once inside a space vortex all decay stops, time ceases to exist and distance becomes meaningless. Eternity is multidimensional and non-linear. Once inside the space vortex your body stops functioning because it is a machine that burns energy to function.
4. In the space vortex your eternal soul comes alive like it has never been alive before. It remembers everything you have ever done, good and bad, light and dark and it judges it against what you know you should have done.
5. If your soul has been strengthened by your good deeds it will fill you with light and happiness and take over the function of your body. If you haven’t done what you know you should your soul will wither and try and hide leaving your body in absolute torment, unable to live, and unable to die.
6. Who wants to go for a ride in a space vortex right now? What would you do to get ready for a space vortex voyage?
Captain Justo from the Planet Is is based on the rules of the space vortex. Being good isn’t just the right thing to do; it is the only way to survive a space vortex voyage. To lie, cheat or steal is to bring on almost certain death if you choose to enter a space vortex so unprepared.
There are so many other themes it is hard to mention them all. What if there were people on other planets who believed in the same basic theologies that we do? What if their origins were the same? What if through science or intelligent design people from our own planet mixed in with theirs? What part does music play in gravity or anti-gravity? What kind of principles would need to be taught to enter into a space vortex? How would someone who traveled in a space vortex be different from a regular person?
The answers to these questions are rolled into an engaging story that keeps you guessing what is going to happen all the way to the end.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
About the Author
Captain Justo from the Planet Is stands as a monument to Stephen’s perseverance in finishing something he believes in. It has played such a major part of his life the writing and production of the book must be included in the biography of the man.
Stephen Miller was born in Provo, Utah in 1962. While attending high school, Stephen won several statewide debate competitions and received high marks at statewide drama competitions for two years running. His school took State both years.
He met his future wife, crowned Miss Payson, while attending school in Payson. After graduating with honors, Stephen took on more adventures by joining the Utah Air National Guard. He later served the people of Brazil for two years without pay. Captain Justo is named after the Portuguese word justo, which translates into the just or righteous. Captain Justo’s home town of Petropolis is modeled after a beautiful mountain town near Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
Upon returning from Brazil, Stephen attended Brigham Young University where he studied the Portuguese language, Aerospace Studies and Physics. The love of flying machines, languages and physics are core concepts in his writing. He was a member of the Air Force ROTC for four years.
While he lived in Sacramento, California, serving in the U. S. Air Force, Captain Justo from the Planet Is was first told as a bedtime story to his children. It was so loved, he was urged to write it down, and Captain Justo from the Planet Is became a rough draft. After several more years, the manuscript went through further modifications which added depth and meaning to the story.
Stephen took a break from writing Captain Justo and finished his first published book entitled The Home Buyer’s Coaching Clinic, also published by TriQuest Publishing. The publishing experience was very positive. It encouraged him to keep writing his science fiction work. Captain Justo from the Planet Is was completed in the early months of 2008. After over 15 years in development, not only the philosophy, but the characters and the final plot of the book were finished.
Stephen has also written other works. He wrote the music for “Christmas Time Again” and “Possum City USA” in 1997 and 1998 and wrote and produced “The Peddlers Muse” in 2005. He is working on a CD with his wife Edna, who is a classically trained vocalist. He is currently getting an MBA from the University of Phoenix which, when completed, will form the basis of his next installment of the Isian Series. Stephen and Edna have seven children and three grandchildren.
Stephen Miller was born in Provo, Utah in 1962. While attending high school, Stephen won several statewide debate competitions and received high marks at statewide drama competitions for two years running. His school took State both years.
He met his future wife, crowned Miss Payson, while attending school in Payson. After graduating with honors, Stephen took on more adventures by joining the Utah Air National Guard. He later served the people of Brazil for two years without pay. Captain Justo is named after the Portuguese word justo, which translates into the just or righteous. Captain Justo’s home town of Petropolis is modeled after a beautiful mountain town near Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
Upon returning from Brazil, Stephen attended Brigham Young University where he studied the Portuguese language, Aerospace Studies and Physics. The love of flying machines, languages and physics are core concepts in his writing. He was a member of the Air Force ROTC for four years.
While he lived in Sacramento, California, serving in the U. S. Air Force, Captain Justo from the Planet Is was first told as a bedtime story to his children. It was so loved, he was urged to write it down, and Captain Justo from the Planet Is became a rough draft. After several more years, the manuscript went through further modifications which added depth and meaning to the story.
Stephen took a break from writing Captain Justo and finished his first published book entitled The Home Buyer’s Coaching Clinic, also published by TriQuest Publishing. The publishing experience was very positive. It encouraged him to keep writing his science fiction work. Captain Justo from the Planet Is was completed in the early months of 2008. After over 15 years in development, not only the philosophy, but the characters and the final plot of the book were finished.
Stephen has also written other works. He wrote the music for “Christmas Time Again” and “Possum City USA” in 1997 and 1998 and wrote and produced “The Peddlers Muse” in 2005. He is working on a CD with his wife Edna, who is a classically trained vocalist. He is currently getting an MBA from the University of Phoenix which, when completed, will form the basis of his next installment of the Isian Series. Stephen and Edna have seven children and three grandchildren.
Captain Justo: Chapter Two
SERATION ATTACK Chapter 2
Marion steered his jet pack toward the helpless Isian and flew full speed to the docking port. He looked over his shoulder long enough to see his father's transporter dart away into the star strewn emptiness of deep space. When he arrived at the docking port, he searched around until he found the hand sized opening that contained a manual lever to open a way into the ship. He put his hand into the opening and tugged on the lever. A smooth vibration tickled his fingers as he felt the mechanics inside the ship come to life.
Seconds later a door opened into the air lock. Marion pushed himself into the opening and the door quickly closed behind him. Still weightless, he took off his jet pack and attached it to a waiting hanger, and floated on up to the control panel. He entered several commands and the airlock hissed with warm vapor. With a quick test, he knew it was safe to take off his helmet and breathe. A vibration coming from outside rocked the ship. He was glad he made it inside safely.
Still floating, he grabbed the handles next to the control panel and made his request to enter. "I am Marion James Justo, son of Ezra James Justo, son of Marion Thomas Justo, requesting permission to enter the ship. Do you recognize?" A light flashed green and the door was ready to open. He quickly put his helmet back on, not knowing what the interior temperature of the ship would be, and pushed the button. The door opened smoothly revealing the black interior of the ship.
"Activate emergency power." The young captain commanded. The ship responded by lighting up the entry way with brilliant red lights. "Activate emergency gravitational systems." At his commands a band of lights glowed on his own golden space boots. "Stabilize," he commanded, and the boots floated firmly to the floor. When they made contact, a line of floor lights clicked on down the hall and out of sight.
"Ships navigation and layout computer, respond." A musical tone filled the room and Marion smiled. "Lead the way to the command center."
He ran forward along the port of the ship until he saw a spiral staircase going four levels topside. Before running up the stairs he looked down at his boots and gave another quick command. "Motion boost," he yelled and instead of stepping a stair at a time, he easily hurtled three steps per leap. When he cleared the last stair he ran to the closed door which opened at his command. "Captain's chair activate," he said as he entered into the large command center. A chair in the middle of the room came to life and spun to the side as if beckoning him to sit and take control. Another vibration jolted the ship causing the frame to groan.
"Initiate start-up sequence." The chair moved into its forward position and a large organ like control panel came up from the floor and surrounded him. "DNA verification activate." He took off his glove and placed his hand on the frigid panel and it lit up.
He removed his hand from the lights and positioned them on a keyboard. "Ionic engines, engage." A roar came from inside the ship and the red emergency lights instantly turned brilliant white. Motors, fans, and the sound of rushing water all worked together to bring the ship to life. The air in the command center started to circulate and the feel of warmth came with it. He watched a temperature gauge on the initiation sequence panel as it went from sixty below freezing to an acceptable twenty below freezing. He took off his helmet and gasped at the cold air rushing into his lungs. Cold, but not too cold, he caught his breath and continued his commands. "Command shield screens open." The shields covering windows of the command center retracted and revealed an entire section ripping from the space station. Whatever was happening at the Salvage Space Station was nothing less than war. He knew he had to get out fast.
"Communication links, up," he said urgently.
The sound of his father's voice came screeching over the speakers, "Are you up, are you up?"
"I'm operational, Admiral." Marion shouted. "The initiation sequence is 15% complete and so far all systems seem to be perfect. I don't see anything wrong. How soon before the schooner can tow me out of here?"
"There's no time for that, son," his father said frantically. "Cridoa just sent me a posting telling me he has bought us all the time he can. He is falling back with everyone loyal to him and abandoning the Salvage Space Station Port. They are heading to Fredonia, on the Royal Prison Planet and are going to try and find some protection there. We are on our own. I have instructed the men in your hanger to fall back to the Schooner and I'm ordering you to come with them."
"We are Isian, Dad," Marion called back, "we can't let Seration pirates take whatever they want. For some reason this ship means a lot to them. Let's not just give it up."
"It's not worth your life. I can replace a starship, I can't replace you."
"Wait a minute Dad, there might be another way. I just made it through 25% of the initializing sequence. I don't have navigation thrusters, but I have plenty of raw power. If the Schooner pointed me in the right direction, I'm sure I can fly her out of here. It doesn't matter where I sail, as long as it's away from the spaceport. Just steer me clear of the station and you can catch up with me. It can work. This is worth more than an office desk. Let's do it."
Admiral Justo agreed. The Schooner pulled next to the Isian, and gently nudged it away from the spaceport. Marion looked over toward the space station as it continued to flash and tremble and noticed ships darting away from it in every direction, except for one, it was moving purposely toward him.
"You're clear son," his father announced. "The Schooner will track you. Make this sharp, you have a salvage barge closing in on you."
"Prepare aft thrusters," Marion commanded. The engines of the Isian let out a trembling groan as if forty years of inactivity bottled up inside waited to be released. "Activate on my mark; three, two, one, Mark." The thrusters screamed into life sending a stream of blue ions into the void. The power of the blast caused the salvage barge to spin out of control and ram harmlessly into the salvage bay. The Schooner darted forward at the same time, leaving behind its own ion wake, and trailed the Isian as close as it dared.
Inside the Isian Captain Justo held on to his seat with all of his strength. Without any acceleration protection, his body was forced to endure the full brunt of the artificial gravity being caused by the ship's thrusters. Nimble and powerful, the engines easily distanced him from the visual image of the space station. Three terra-minutes passed and the acceleration from the powerful engines caused the ship to pitch and roll until the frame of the starship groaned under the stress. Without directional thrusters the ship was in danger of being ripped apart by the engines uncontrolled maneuvers. He had to act fast.
"Thru-u-usters diseng-gage," he gasped with his last full breath, but he could only manage a dry airless whisper. The ship's computer was unable to perceive his vocal command. With almost no ability to breathe, he could feel the strength ebbing from his body. His vision narrowed and his head throbbed, but with all his remaining energy he placed his hands on the keyboard and sent the ship one last command before passing out.
The thrusters immediately shut down, and the ship drifted aimlessly at half the speed of light. Aboard the Schooner, the crew was able to keep the out-of-control Isian in her scope to try and catch up. More than once the Isian burst out of tracking range and it was due to the tracking skills of his uncle that they were able to reestablish contact. After several hours they were finally able to catch up and board the ship to bring her under control. As soon as the Schooner had control of the Isian, their location was sent to Admiral Ezra Justo aboard the Argo. The Schooner, with the Isian in tow, set a trajectory to meet in less than two terra-hours time.
The acceleration of the ship had been so severe, Marion was found passed out in the captain's chair. They took him directly to the captain's quarters located off the Command Center and let him rest. A med-tech determined that his ear drums were nearly ruptured and he had a slight concussion. His quick but thorough diagnosis indicated Marion was recovering quickly.
When Marion woke up four terra-hours later he looked up into the smiling faces of his father and uncle. Looking around the room he saw it was ornately decorated with woodwork of intertwining leaves and flowers. He blinked and squinted to shield his eyes from the light. "Where am I?"
"You're on the Isian. I didn't think it would be right to relieve you of your command while you were unconscious, so I ordered the ship's surgeon to put you and all your gear in the captain's quarters and let you rest up. How do you like it, son?"
"The captain's quarters? Why would you put my gear in the captain's quarters? I thought you were going to give the command to Uncle Aaron, I mean Admiral Aaron Justo?"
"After what I saw you do yesterday, you deserve to be in the captain's quarters. Besides, after the initiation sequence was complete, the main computer wouldn't recognize any other captain. It's an old computer program; I guess it only recognizes one captain at a time."
"I don't mind," Admiral Aaron Justo smiled. "I have a fleet of Star Ships back home. I just came along in case there was any trouble. If I had known how well you think on your feet I might not have come. You just get better, Captain Justo," he said with deliberate emphasis.
Back on the burning salvage station Inglid the Lessor opened up a communication link with Admiral Albrecht of the Seration Confederation.
"I did what ye commanded and me whole world is burnin' up."
"Did you capture the Isian?" The Admiral demanded over the transmitter. "Just tell me you maintained control of the Isian."
"No sir, we didn't. The Salvage Station's in flames; we're at war. Cridoa, the mangy beast, has explosives planted all over the station and he's blowing the world up. I'm lucky to be wearing me space suit or I'd have me insides spattered all over the walls. Now, the question is, are ye goin' to honor our deal and give me the fifty thousand in crystal?"
"You'll get your crystal, Inglid," Admiral Albrecht assured him. "We're Seration. We always trade square. Find out which direction they took the Isian, and I'll give you five hundred thousand in crystal, and the title to the whole salvage operation. Our battle group will arrive in two days time. Make sharp, Captain Inglid."
"Aye Admiral," Inglid grunted and let out a cry of glee, "Do you hear that you bags of spoiled meat. I'm the boss. Save the livin' quarters and put a team on saving the segment with the deep space antenna. The station's been damaged aplenty, but it can all be fixed. We have some ion trails to follow. Get sharp or I'll gut your oxygen lines wide open. We have major brass on its way and we don't want ta disappoint ‘em."
Two days passed quickly aboard the Isian, and all Marion could do was watch others work. Fresh supplies were transferred from the Argo, enough to outfit a crew of twelve for a year's travel time-bound, and the ion fuel rods were replaced to ensure the safety of the ship. The Argo kept close watch on the damaged Salvage Space Station, although they had to be careful not to reveal their location.
The time aboard the stationary Isian wasn't wasted though. Marion spent long hours walking the halls and rooms of the Isian with his father, learning about the artwork, the hand crafted woodwork, and the true purpose of the ship. The rescued ship had been in the family for ten generations and was comparable to a finely seasoned musical instrument. He learned it was a portable cathedral. Before his grandfather's fateful last voyage, she had traveled to the far reaches of the universe inhabited by Isians and stopped at planets with populations too small and too remote to have a place of their own to perform knighting, coronations and marriage ceremonies.
The Isian, first of the standard Alpha Class, had four decks on the main and one deck high above the rest of the ship aloft. In the center of the ship the giant cargo hold would have opened from the bottom of the first deck and extended all the way to the top of the ship. Instead of that configuration, the cargo hold was divided into smaller rooms that all connected into one large ceremonial room with seating for hundreds of people. The ceiling extended like a cathedral and the windows on top, when the blast shields were open, sparkled light on the participants like star dust.
The center of the ship was surrounded by a hall on both sides with utility rooms and crew quarters housed inside the graceful wings of the ship. At the trailing edge of the wings, on both sides, were rows of very special crystal bowls. These bowls were placed one inside of another so closely they almost touched. When activated the bowls rotated along a center axis, when touched by a moist leather pad, they rang out a musical pitch so perfect and powerful it caused the whole ship to vibrate. When harmonic cords were played in specific sequences the very matter around the ship danced with delight.
As with all Isian Space Craft, the harmonics of the crystal bowls were the reason Isians could travel outside of time and space and visit the far reaches of the universe. All Isians were taught from an early age that each star, planet and moon has a musical tone and that by combining those specific tones it was possible to harmonically, or musically describe the specific location of any object in space.
It was during an in-flight rehearsal of the Interplanetary Symphony by Gustoff Brenhardt, based on the tonal quality linking two closely positioned star systems, that the whole ship was taken from one star system and transported to another. Unfortunately, only two members survived the voyage unharmed, the ships chaplain and a violinist named Albert James Justo, the rest were permanently disabled or killed. The Interplanetary Symphony became the object of intense scientific study. Experiments were conducted and it was discovered that worm holes were more than random strings in space-time, they were living Rivers of Eternity. These strings were attracted to music; they could be summoned and navigated.
Albert James Justo, the violinist, purchased an old Cargo Ship and started doing experiments with it. He dared to enter and exit the worm hole that connected the two star systems. He began to refer to the worm holes as Rivers of Eternity and later as space vortexes. He exhausted his entire family fortune with a final experiment on how to make the vortex safe for others to navigate.
He reasoned that if the ship were protected by a seamless coat of gold, the occupants would have a better chance of surviving the effects of the vortex. Gold was a pure element that the space vortex favored over other metals. In the Vortex gold acted like a shield. The Space Vortex was alive, like a person. It moved and changed and chose who it wanted to let enter its river of energy. Once inside the river of energy all time stood still and distance lost all meaning. Everything that decayed became young again and all machines that needed to burn energy stopped functioning, including the human body.
What Albert Justo discovered inside the space vortex was that the soul or spirit of a traveler took a more physical form and could keep the body functioning during the voyage. He learned that a spirit could become dim and powerless if the laws of the universe were not followed during regular day to day living. A person not following these laws could not survive a trip through the vortex. The laws corresponded to the teachings of a great teacher known as The Great Is. Those who diligently followed the laws of Is could travel through the vortex, and those who didn't could not.
In one daring trip he sailed one hundred million light years from his own star, marked his position and returned again with his crew unharmed. He christened his cargo ship the Isian, Alfa Class. It was the first ship to sail in the Rivers of Eternity and come out with a living crew. It was the first ship to be covered completely in pure gold to withstand the searing heat of the pure river of intelligence. At the helm, Captain Albert Justo was the first to discover and refine the rules of Eternal Space Travel and master its intricacies. And for that discovery he was given the title, Albert the Just, Admiral of the space vortex. Even though it was ceremonial, the family took its royal charter seriously.
It took a new way of life to travel the River of Eternity, or the space vortex as it came to be known. Personal character was required, not just technical ability. The new rules of space travel redefined their families, their culture and their very existence. It is what made them so different from the Seration Pirates aboard the Salvage Space Station, and the men inside the slow time bound destroyer that had just docked at the still smoldering floating station. The men and women who learned to navigate the Rivers of Eternity came to be known as Isians, or the people of Is.
"How far are we away from an entry point to the Chanson Vortex?" Admiral Justo asked Julian Franco, his navigator.
"We are still about three terra days out from a full frequency entrance sir, although I am getting intermittent signals from it right now."
"That's good to hear. Keep your eyes bright, Lieutenant, I don't know how much more time we have before we'll have to start running. The Seration Confederation destroyer just arrived at the Salvage Space Port. I'm sure every ionic particle we emit is being searched for right now."
Lieutenant Franco nodded and continued his work. Ezra Justo walked back to his own intricate command chair and hailed the Isian on a secure line. "Hailing Captain Justo, son, are you there?"
"Yes Admiral," Marion responded out of habit. "I hear you loud and clear."
"Lieutenant Franco informs me we are nearing the entrance to the Chanson Vortex. What's the status of your ship?"
"All systems have been tested except for the starboard vortex drive. I just finished with the tests on the port-side drive and everything looks fine. We should be operational in a few hours."
"That's good," The Admiral sounded relieved, "I have studied the information provided by Cridoa on the space station, and I have downloaded it to you on a secure line. According to this report, Cridoa was once a programmer for the Seration Royal House, the ruling government before the rise of the Seration Confederation. His teenage son, Cenric, worked with him and was a brilliant programmer, exceeding even his father's abilities. King Elfwald and his queen, Mathilda were studying with Lorenzo Justo, your Great Grandfather, to be an Isian Star Captain and this made many members of the ruling family uncomfortable, especially his nephew, Prince Alhred. They feared if he became an Isian he would use his power and influence to force everyone to become Isian and they would lose their status in the kingdom.
"This is the time when Admiral Lorenzo Justo, my Grandfather, your Great Grandfather, was accidentally killed in an industrial accident aboard the Royal Space Port. He was loading a shipment of medicine in its small cargo bay when the boxes fell and crushed him. Your grandfather was only twenty-one when that happened and he decided to finish the training of King Elfwald.
"Prince Alhred apparently enlisted the aid of the young programmer Cenric to capture the Isian when it was docked at the Royal Space Port and kidnapped the King's son, prince Sevan. In the negotiations it was calculated that the King would give up his intentions to be an Isian and all would be well. According to Seration Law all of this intrigue is completely within the right of an upcoming heir to the throne.
"Things went as planned at first. The security detail at the Royal Space Port and those on the Isian were tricked by Prince Alhred and his men while your grandfather was being honored at a feast in the Royal Space Station. First of all the ship was fired on and successfully defended. Later after the feast, and after the Isian crew thought all was well, the Isian set sail to meet with King Elfwald for his first training mission. On the way she was overcome by the Pirates who sailed into deep space with Cenric the programmer, a small crew, and Prince Sevan. King Elfwald was furious and ordered every ship in his garrison to search and bring the ship back safely."
"I know what happened next," Marion broke in. "With all the Royal security searching for the Isian, Prince Alhred rallied his men and captured the King with all his sympathizers, accused them of sedition for trying to become Isian, and sent them to the Royal Prison Planet."
"That's right son," his father confirmed. "And the Isian was never seen again. A half mad crew was found floating in an escape pod not far from here, but Cenric, the young programmer, and Sevan, the King's son, were not among them. Prince Alhred proclaimed himself protectorate until the lost prince was recovered. If his information got out it could rally support for the Royal family on the Royal Prison Planet. We have to get all of this back home to analyze it in more detail and confirm it with the Isian's ship logs. No wonder the Seration Confederation is willing to do so much to recover the Isian. We need to get your ship fully operational. How are you doing?"
"I'm heading down to the starboard vortex drive as we speak," The young captain said earnestly. "I'll be out of communication for an hour while I calibrate the crystals. Captain Justo Out."
Marion steered his jet pack toward the helpless Isian and flew full speed to the docking port. He looked over his shoulder long enough to see his father's transporter dart away into the star strewn emptiness of deep space. When he arrived at the docking port, he searched around until he found the hand sized opening that contained a manual lever to open a way into the ship. He put his hand into the opening and tugged on the lever. A smooth vibration tickled his fingers as he felt the mechanics inside the ship come to life.
Seconds later a door opened into the air lock. Marion pushed himself into the opening and the door quickly closed behind him. Still weightless, he took off his jet pack and attached it to a waiting hanger, and floated on up to the control panel. He entered several commands and the airlock hissed with warm vapor. With a quick test, he knew it was safe to take off his helmet and breathe. A vibration coming from outside rocked the ship. He was glad he made it inside safely.
Still floating, he grabbed the handles next to the control panel and made his request to enter. "I am Marion James Justo, son of Ezra James Justo, son of Marion Thomas Justo, requesting permission to enter the ship. Do you recognize?" A light flashed green and the door was ready to open. He quickly put his helmet back on, not knowing what the interior temperature of the ship would be, and pushed the button. The door opened smoothly revealing the black interior of the ship.
"Activate emergency power." The young captain commanded. The ship responded by lighting up the entry way with brilliant red lights. "Activate emergency gravitational systems." At his commands a band of lights glowed on his own golden space boots. "Stabilize," he commanded, and the boots floated firmly to the floor. When they made contact, a line of floor lights clicked on down the hall and out of sight.
"Ships navigation and layout computer, respond." A musical tone filled the room and Marion smiled. "Lead the way to the command center."
He ran forward along the port of the ship until he saw a spiral staircase going four levels topside. Before running up the stairs he looked down at his boots and gave another quick command. "Motion boost," he yelled and instead of stepping a stair at a time, he easily hurtled three steps per leap. When he cleared the last stair he ran to the closed door which opened at his command. "Captain's chair activate," he said as he entered into the large command center. A chair in the middle of the room came to life and spun to the side as if beckoning him to sit and take control. Another vibration jolted the ship causing the frame to groan.
"Initiate start-up sequence." The chair moved into its forward position and a large organ like control panel came up from the floor and surrounded him. "DNA verification activate." He took off his glove and placed his hand on the frigid panel and it lit up.
He removed his hand from the lights and positioned them on a keyboard. "Ionic engines, engage." A roar came from inside the ship and the red emergency lights instantly turned brilliant white. Motors, fans, and the sound of rushing water all worked together to bring the ship to life. The air in the command center started to circulate and the feel of warmth came with it. He watched a temperature gauge on the initiation sequence panel as it went from sixty below freezing to an acceptable twenty below freezing. He took off his helmet and gasped at the cold air rushing into his lungs. Cold, but not too cold, he caught his breath and continued his commands. "Command shield screens open." The shields covering windows of the command center retracted and revealed an entire section ripping from the space station. Whatever was happening at the Salvage Space Station was nothing less than war. He knew he had to get out fast.
"Communication links, up," he said urgently.
The sound of his father's voice came screeching over the speakers, "Are you up, are you up?"
"I'm operational, Admiral." Marion shouted. "The initiation sequence is 15% complete and so far all systems seem to be perfect. I don't see anything wrong. How soon before the schooner can tow me out of here?"
"There's no time for that, son," his father said frantically. "Cridoa just sent me a posting telling me he has bought us all the time he can. He is falling back with everyone loyal to him and abandoning the Salvage Space Station Port. They are heading to Fredonia, on the Royal Prison Planet and are going to try and find some protection there. We are on our own. I have instructed the men in your hanger to fall back to the Schooner and I'm ordering you to come with them."
"We are Isian, Dad," Marion called back, "we can't let Seration pirates take whatever they want. For some reason this ship means a lot to them. Let's not just give it up."
"It's not worth your life. I can replace a starship, I can't replace you."
"Wait a minute Dad, there might be another way. I just made it through 25% of the initializing sequence. I don't have navigation thrusters, but I have plenty of raw power. If the Schooner pointed me in the right direction, I'm sure I can fly her out of here. It doesn't matter where I sail, as long as it's away from the spaceport. Just steer me clear of the station and you can catch up with me. It can work. This is worth more than an office desk. Let's do it."
Admiral Justo agreed. The Schooner pulled next to the Isian, and gently nudged it away from the spaceport. Marion looked over toward the space station as it continued to flash and tremble and noticed ships darting away from it in every direction, except for one, it was moving purposely toward him.
"You're clear son," his father announced. "The Schooner will track you. Make this sharp, you have a salvage barge closing in on you."
"Prepare aft thrusters," Marion commanded. The engines of the Isian let out a trembling groan as if forty years of inactivity bottled up inside waited to be released. "Activate on my mark; three, two, one, Mark." The thrusters screamed into life sending a stream of blue ions into the void. The power of the blast caused the salvage barge to spin out of control and ram harmlessly into the salvage bay. The Schooner darted forward at the same time, leaving behind its own ion wake, and trailed the Isian as close as it dared.
Inside the Isian Captain Justo held on to his seat with all of his strength. Without any acceleration protection, his body was forced to endure the full brunt of the artificial gravity being caused by the ship's thrusters. Nimble and powerful, the engines easily distanced him from the visual image of the space station. Three terra-minutes passed and the acceleration from the powerful engines caused the ship to pitch and roll until the frame of the starship groaned under the stress. Without directional thrusters the ship was in danger of being ripped apart by the engines uncontrolled maneuvers. He had to act fast.
"Thru-u-usters diseng-gage," he gasped with his last full breath, but he could only manage a dry airless whisper. The ship's computer was unable to perceive his vocal command. With almost no ability to breathe, he could feel the strength ebbing from his body. His vision narrowed and his head throbbed, but with all his remaining energy he placed his hands on the keyboard and sent the ship one last command before passing out.
The thrusters immediately shut down, and the ship drifted aimlessly at half the speed of light. Aboard the Schooner, the crew was able to keep the out-of-control Isian in her scope to try and catch up. More than once the Isian burst out of tracking range and it was due to the tracking skills of his uncle that they were able to reestablish contact. After several hours they were finally able to catch up and board the ship to bring her under control. As soon as the Schooner had control of the Isian, their location was sent to Admiral Ezra Justo aboard the Argo. The Schooner, with the Isian in tow, set a trajectory to meet in less than two terra-hours time.
The acceleration of the ship had been so severe, Marion was found passed out in the captain's chair. They took him directly to the captain's quarters located off the Command Center and let him rest. A med-tech determined that his ear drums were nearly ruptured and he had a slight concussion. His quick but thorough diagnosis indicated Marion was recovering quickly.
When Marion woke up four terra-hours later he looked up into the smiling faces of his father and uncle. Looking around the room he saw it was ornately decorated with woodwork of intertwining leaves and flowers. He blinked and squinted to shield his eyes from the light. "Where am I?"
"You're on the Isian. I didn't think it would be right to relieve you of your command while you were unconscious, so I ordered the ship's surgeon to put you and all your gear in the captain's quarters and let you rest up. How do you like it, son?"
"The captain's quarters? Why would you put my gear in the captain's quarters? I thought you were going to give the command to Uncle Aaron, I mean Admiral Aaron Justo?"
"After what I saw you do yesterday, you deserve to be in the captain's quarters. Besides, after the initiation sequence was complete, the main computer wouldn't recognize any other captain. It's an old computer program; I guess it only recognizes one captain at a time."
"I don't mind," Admiral Aaron Justo smiled. "I have a fleet of Star Ships back home. I just came along in case there was any trouble. If I had known how well you think on your feet I might not have come. You just get better, Captain Justo," he said with deliberate emphasis.
Back on the burning salvage station Inglid the Lessor opened up a communication link with Admiral Albrecht of the Seration Confederation.
"I did what ye commanded and me whole world is burnin' up."
"Did you capture the Isian?" The Admiral demanded over the transmitter. "Just tell me you maintained control of the Isian."
"No sir, we didn't. The Salvage Station's in flames; we're at war. Cridoa, the mangy beast, has explosives planted all over the station and he's blowing the world up. I'm lucky to be wearing me space suit or I'd have me insides spattered all over the walls. Now, the question is, are ye goin' to honor our deal and give me the fifty thousand in crystal?"
"You'll get your crystal, Inglid," Admiral Albrecht assured him. "We're Seration. We always trade square. Find out which direction they took the Isian, and I'll give you five hundred thousand in crystal, and the title to the whole salvage operation. Our battle group will arrive in two days time. Make sharp, Captain Inglid."
"Aye Admiral," Inglid grunted and let out a cry of glee, "Do you hear that you bags of spoiled meat. I'm the boss. Save the livin' quarters and put a team on saving the segment with the deep space antenna. The station's been damaged aplenty, but it can all be fixed. We have some ion trails to follow. Get sharp or I'll gut your oxygen lines wide open. We have major brass on its way and we don't want ta disappoint ‘em."
Two days passed quickly aboard the Isian, and all Marion could do was watch others work. Fresh supplies were transferred from the Argo, enough to outfit a crew of twelve for a year's travel time-bound, and the ion fuel rods were replaced to ensure the safety of the ship. The Argo kept close watch on the damaged Salvage Space Station, although they had to be careful not to reveal their location.
The time aboard the stationary Isian wasn't wasted though. Marion spent long hours walking the halls and rooms of the Isian with his father, learning about the artwork, the hand crafted woodwork, and the true purpose of the ship. The rescued ship had been in the family for ten generations and was comparable to a finely seasoned musical instrument. He learned it was a portable cathedral. Before his grandfather's fateful last voyage, she had traveled to the far reaches of the universe inhabited by Isians and stopped at planets with populations too small and too remote to have a place of their own to perform knighting, coronations and marriage ceremonies.
The Isian, first of the standard Alpha Class, had four decks on the main and one deck high above the rest of the ship aloft. In the center of the ship the giant cargo hold would have opened from the bottom of the first deck and extended all the way to the top of the ship. Instead of that configuration, the cargo hold was divided into smaller rooms that all connected into one large ceremonial room with seating for hundreds of people. The ceiling extended like a cathedral and the windows on top, when the blast shields were open, sparkled light on the participants like star dust.
The center of the ship was surrounded by a hall on both sides with utility rooms and crew quarters housed inside the graceful wings of the ship. At the trailing edge of the wings, on both sides, were rows of very special crystal bowls. These bowls were placed one inside of another so closely they almost touched. When activated the bowls rotated along a center axis, when touched by a moist leather pad, they rang out a musical pitch so perfect and powerful it caused the whole ship to vibrate. When harmonic cords were played in specific sequences the very matter around the ship danced with delight.
As with all Isian Space Craft, the harmonics of the crystal bowls were the reason Isians could travel outside of time and space and visit the far reaches of the universe. All Isians were taught from an early age that each star, planet and moon has a musical tone and that by combining those specific tones it was possible to harmonically, or musically describe the specific location of any object in space.
It was during an in-flight rehearsal of the Interplanetary Symphony by Gustoff Brenhardt, based on the tonal quality linking two closely positioned star systems, that the whole ship was taken from one star system and transported to another. Unfortunately, only two members survived the voyage unharmed, the ships chaplain and a violinist named Albert James Justo, the rest were permanently disabled or killed. The Interplanetary Symphony became the object of intense scientific study. Experiments were conducted and it was discovered that worm holes were more than random strings in space-time, they were living Rivers of Eternity. These strings were attracted to music; they could be summoned and navigated.
Albert James Justo, the violinist, purchased an old Cargo Ship and started doing experiments with it. He dared to enter and exit the worm hole that connected the two star systems. He began to refer to the worm holes as Rivers of Eternity and later as space vortexes. He exhausted his entire family fortune with a final experiment on how to make the vortex safe for others to navigate.
He reasoned that if the ship were protected by a seamless coat of gold, the occupants would have a better chance of surviving the effects of the vortex. Gold was a pure element that the space vortex favored over other metals. In the Vortex gold acted like a shield. The Space Vortex was alive, like a person. It moved and changed and chose who it wanted to let enter its river of energy. Once inside the river of energy all time stood still and distance lost all meaning. Everything that decayed became young again and all machines that needed to burn energy stopped functioning, including the human body.
What Albert Justo discovered inside the space vortex was that the soul or spirit of a traveler took a more physical form and could keep the body functioning during the voyage. He learned that a spirit could become dim and powerless if the laws of the universe were not followed during regular day to day living. A person not following these laws could not survive a trip through the vortex. The laws corresponded to the teachings of a great teacher known as The Great Is. Those who diligently followed the laws of Is could travel through the vortex, and those who didn't could not.
In one daring trip he sailed one hundred million light years from his own star, marked his position and returned again with his crew unharmed. He christened his cargo ship the Isian, Alfa Class. It was the first ship to sail in the Rivers of Eternity and come out with a living crew. It was the first ship to be covered completely in pure gold to withstand the searing heat of the pure river of intelligence. At the helm, Captain Albert Justo was the first to discover and refine the rules of Eternal Space Travel and master its intricacies. And for that discovery he was given the title, Albert the Just, Admiral of the space vortex. Even though it was ceremonial, the family took its royal charter seriously.
It took a new way of life to travel the River of Eternity, or the space vortex as it came to be known. Personal character was required, not just technical ability. The new rules of space travel redefined their families, their culture and their very existence. It is what made them so different from the Seration Pirates aboard the Salvage Space Station, and the men inside the slow time bound destroyer that had just docked at the still smoldering floating station. The men and women who learned to navigate the Rivers of Eternity came to be known as Isians, or the people of Is.
"How far are we away from an entry point to the Chanson Vortex?" Admiral Justo asked Julian Franco, his navigator.
"We are still about three terra days out from a full frequency entrance sir, although I am getting intermittent signals from it right now."
"That's good to hear. Keep your eyes bright, Lieutenant, I don't know how much more time we have before we'll have to start running. The Seration Confederation destroyer just arrived at the Salvage Space Port. I'm sure every ionic particle we emit is being searched for right now."
Lieutenant Franco nodded and continued his work. Ezra Justo walked back to his own intricate command chair and hailed the Isian on a secure line. "Hailing Captain Justo, son, are you there?"
"Yes Admiral," Marion responded out of habit. "I hear you loud and clear."
"Lieutenant Franco informs me we are nearing the entrance to the Chanson Vortex. What's the status of your ship?"
"All systems have been tested except for the starboard vortex drive. I just finished with the tests on the port-side drive and everything looks fine. We should be operational in a few hours."
"That's good," The Admiral sounded relieved, "I have studied the information provided by Cridoa on the space station, and I have downloaded it to you on a secure line. According to this report, Cridoa was once a programmer for the Seration Royal House, the ruling government before the rise of the Seration Confederation. His teenage son, Cenric, worked with him and was a brilliant programmer, exceeding even his father's abilities. King Elfwald and his queen, Mathilda were studying with Lorenzo Justo, your Great Grandfather, to be an Isian Star Captain and this made many members of the ruling family uncomfortable, especially his nephew, Prince Alhred. They feared if he became an Isian he would use his power and influence to force everyone to become Isian and they would lose their status in the kingdom.
"This is the time when Admiral Lorenzo Justo, my Grandfather, your Great Grandfather, was accidentally killed in an industrial accident aboard the Royal Space Port. He was loading a shipment of medicine in its small cargo bay when the boxes fell and crushed him. Your grandfather was only twenty-one when that happened and he decided to finish the training of King Elfwald.
"Prince Alhred apparently enlisted the aid of the young programmer Cenric to capture the Isian when it was docked at the Royal Space Port and kidnapped the King's son, prince Sevan. In the negotiations it was calculated that the King would give up his intentions to be an Isian and all would be well. According to Seration Law all of this intrigue is completely within the right of an upcoming heir to the throne.
"Things went as planned at first. The security detail at the Royal Space Port and those on the Isian were tricked by Prince Alhred and his men while your grandfather was being honored at a feast in the Royal Space Station. First of all the ship was fired on and successfully defended. Later after the feast, and after the Isian crew thought all was well, the Isian set sail to meet with King Elfwald for his first training mission. On the way she was overcome by the Pirates who sailed into deep space with Cenric the programmer, a small crew, and Prince Sevan. King Elfwald was furious and ordered every ship in his garrison to search and bring the ship back safely."
"I know what happened next," Marion broke in. "With all the Royal security searching for the Isian, Prince Alhred rallied his men and captured the King with all his sympathizers, accused them of sedition for trying to become Isian, and sent them to the Royal Prison Planet."
"That's right son," his father confirmed. "And the Isian was never seen again. A half mad crew was found floating in an escape pod not far from here, but Cenric, the young programmer, and Sevan, the King's son, were not among them. Prince Alhred proclaimed himself protectorate until the lost prince was recovered. If his information got out it could rally support for the Royal family on the Royal Prison Planet. We have to get all of this back home to analyze it in more detail and confirm it with the Isian's ship logs. No wonder the Seration Confederation is willing to do so much to recover the Isian. We need to get your ship fully operational. How are you doing?"
"I'm heading down to the starboard vortex drive as we speak," The young captain said earnestly. "I'll be out of communication for an hour while I calibrate the crystals. Captain Justo Out."
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Captain Justo: Chapter One
NEGOTIATING WITH PIRATES
Chapter 1
The negotiation room was dimly lit with blue photon tubes and dim static lights. The smell of stale food hung in the reprocessed air. Each room and hall sector in the decrepit salvage space station had low ceilings and undecorated reinforced metal walls that could be sealed off in case of a hull breach. Disaster and the loss of life were common because of the dirty and dangerous work of parting-out and scrapping worn-out space craft and stolen machinery. The Prison Salvage Space Station was oddly located in deep space, with only a high security penal colony called the Royal Prison Planet close enough to restock its supplies.
Admiral Ezra Justo looked around at the dirty furnishings, the drab, claustrophobic space and the cluttered, ornate desk that he knew would witness the fate of his family's most prized possession. He was a ninth-generation starship captain and the rightful Admiral to Kings of his people. His brothers, uncles and cousins were all involved in the same trade, and they took their business very seriously. It also paid well. The Admiral didn't have to work; he had enough crystal in the bank to purchase a fleet of starships.
Nevertheless, with the command of an Isian starship came the commission to work until the blood ceased flowing in his veins. He was fifty-six terra years, with speckled grey hair and a solid yet round build. The years were starting to show. All the crystal in the universe couldn't stop the onslaught of time.
Standing next to him was his son Marion James Justo, the heir to the throne of all Is, but more importantly, the only hope he had of extending his own family line. Marion was twenty-one terra years and had just completed a two year service assignment to New Euna also known as Terra 1154 in the Florin Galaxy. During his two year assignment he dug wells, built schools, and tended to the needs of a gentle people trying to start a new colony. The Admiral admired his son's energy, generosity and compassion.
Marion was a tall young man with broad shoulders made strong with many hours of heavy labor. His fair complexion was browned by the single sun of the Euna star system, but his hair was bleached to a near golden shine. His eyes were blue like all of his father's family but his eyebrows were darker, like his mother's. He looked like a prince from head to toe, and his father was very proud of him. He had big plans for his son. He thought now that his service-time was completed he would immerse him in the duties of the family business.
"Are you sure they meant to have us meet here?" the young man asked hesitantly. "This salvage space station doesn't have a clean room in it. I wouldn't want to negotiate for a space scooter in this room."
"Just be patient Marion. I have a feeling this meeting is not exactly public knowledge. If I had to guess . . . quiet, here they come."
An old worn out man limped into the room and together several younger men followed after him. The elder man had an air of importance, although the rumpled utility space suit he wore didn't give him any dignity. The younger men were covered in grease and soot and their hair was long, unwashed and scraggly. They were men of hard, dirty work.
One of them didn't understand the value of keeping his opinions to himself. "I only sent the transfer of title request but an hour ago." The young man complained loudly as they entered the room. "How d'ye expect ‘em to give us the clearance to transfer a title so soon? All I have ready is a salvage title, an why are ye tradin' with an Isian Admiral anyway, all alone, without an official negotiator here, it's madness."
"Keep it shut, boy," The old man growled. "Ye stand over there and stay out of me way. Don't open yer trap, none of ya. I only have ye here as witnesses. So do yer job and witness, right?"
The three young men ducked into the shadows and held their peace. The elder limped over to the table and, without looking up, cleaned off the desk with the swipe of his large and muscular arm that belied his limp. All the papers, writing tools and books flew to the floor and added to the general filthiness of the room.
"It goes like this," he growled. "I'm called Cridoa, son of Cerdic, that dirt bag in the shadows is Ingild the Lesser, eyes, ears and yappin' mouth of the Seration Confederation and these are his mates. I suppose ye be Admiral Justo but who's this other pup ye brought with ye? I told ye to come alone, are ye deaf or dumb?"
"This is my son, Marion. We stand as one."
"Aye, beggin' yer pardon. A blood son can stand with ye." The old man ducked his head down with respect. "I had a blood son once, and I would we had him stand next to me, but I'll not burden ye with that sad story. I found a ship floatin' in me sector, see, and I own the salvage rights for me sector and everything in it. I have complete authority to everything havin' to do with this transaction, ain't that right boys?" He looked over at the men standing in the corner and they all nodded nervously. "Idone some searchin' and it looks like ye might have an interest in ownin' the pile o' rubbish I found floatin' in me territory, an I might have an interest in givin' her to ye for a fair profit. Are ye still interested?"
"I am interested." Admiral Justo said in a dignified way. "We have agreed on a price through our emissaries, and I am ready to make the transfer as you requested."
"Did ye follow me strict instructions, down to the last?" The old man wheezed with a look of craziness in his eyes.
"I did as you instructed. I have deposited the digits into your accounts. Do you have the title of the ship with you?"
"O' course I do, do ye think I be off the head?" The old man walked around the table and took out a round ball the size of marble and rolled it in his dirty old hands. "Here's the title, but it's only a salvage title mind you, makes the ship worth about as much as a dirty penny, butif'n yer willin t' trade, then I'm willn' t' take yer money, though I think ye be mad entering into deep Seration territory, next door, as it were, to the Royal Prison Planet. You must want this piece of floatin' jewelry pretty badly to make this kind a trip. So I'm uppin' me price. I'll take what ye offered and then I'll have another twenty million, in crystal."
"Twenty million in crystal?" Young Marion Justo coughed out. "The price has been settled on. What kind of negotiation is this?"
"Keep yer pup shut up, Admiral." The ancient trader barked ferociously as he circled them like a wild animal. "Did ye think ye could waltz into me own backgarden and not play by me rules? Did ye think this little transaction was going to come off without a hitch? If so, then ye be the mad ones I'll bet."
Admiral Justo motioned for his son to be still. He paused for a moment, and then spoke with quiet power and authority. "I have had many dealing with Serations in the past and I expect I will have many more in the future. Serations are men of their word, from the greatest to the weakest, so when you increase the price for the object of our barter by such a significant amount, and in untraceable crystal, there must be a good reason for it. Why do you break your own time honored vow of fair dealing?"
The old man went pale. His fingers started to shake and a tear leaked from one eye and then both became as hard as glass. He exploded. "They stole me son," he yelled. "Those ungrateful sons of the infernal pit, they recruited him to capture this very ship forty long years ago, and then they lost the ship and me son with it. Is twenty million worth me son? Is a hundred million? You can take yer lousy filthy crystal and sink with it for all I care, but the Seration Confederation will not have that ship. I won't allow them to get their filthy, connivin' hands on it. I don't know why the Confederation tried to rob it, an I don't know how they let it slip from their fingers, but for forty years I have been searching for it, and I finally found it.
"I broke into the ship and searched everywhere aboard her. I found no sign of life nor limb, nor corpse of me boy. I found yer cursed golden ship but not me lad. Now all me hope is gone, he's lost to me. Me tears and me dreams are all dried out like a desert. I only live for revenge, see, I refuse to let the Seration Confederation have the ship. They want it like flies want flesh, but I made up me mind to double cross ‘em, and to trade it to the only man strong enough to take on the Seration Confederation and rob her away. That's why I called ye, an now ye be here. Do you happen to have twenty million in crystal layin' about?"
With those revealing words Ingild the Lesser bolted out of the room and ran down the hall. The other two stood in confusion and shook their heads with pale white faces. Cridoa didn't even try to stop them as they, too, ran out after him.
"And why would I bring another twenty million in crystal to bargain for a ship I already paid fifteen million digits to get?"
"Ah, ye want t' know what ye'll be getting for an extra twenty million in untraceable crystal?" He laughed as he looked at Captain Justo intently. "Ya give me a chance to live, that's what ye get. When the Confederation discovers I traded the Isian to ya I'll be slaughtered before they ever sentence me to life imprisonment. Either way it'll be death to me. Never again will I sail the wide open reaches of space a free man. But what does that matter? Died I did when me son was taken from me. Tis only now have I begun to live, these last few moments."
"I didn't come to start a war. I came with legitimate papers. I paid with digits through your official Seration Central Bank. I brought my son along to get acquainted with the future duties of the ship's captain."
"Aye, now ye see why I need an extra twenty million in crystal." The old man laughed. "I won't see any of the digits ye paid me through the Seration Central Bank, and I have to make good on a lot of bribes. The rest of the crystal, let's just say it's going to a worthy cause. I've bribed a judge to give me a lesser sentence if I'm caught, but I'm not sure he'll honor the bribe. But I know this, if I don't hand it over, It'll be the end of me, right?"
"This is madness! The Admiral exclaimed. "I cannot pay you bribe money. I am Isian. I cannot make deals in the shadows."
"Yet here ye be." The old man smiled, "Ye know our laws be corrupt. Ye know who we are and why we do what we do. Why do ye act so surprised, dear Admiral? But if ye be surprised then be quick about it. Me three worthy cohorts weren't in on me little plot. No doubt, they're rushin' to turn me in as we speak. They're squealin' on me for the reward money, I suspect, or maybe for the chance to stay alive. That's the biggest reason, I think. I don't blame ‘em. So you'd better made a decision. Do ye finish the trade, and send me to prison, or do ye not make the trade and see me surely die? I be in yer hands."
A few seconds passed in darkness and then a light came into Admiral Justo's eyes. "I refuse to change the original terms of our agreement. I will not pay you so much as a single crystal for the ship; especially if it's to be used in bribery and illegal activities. However, I am growing rather fond of this desk. I know you are a savvy trader of antiquities and would not part with it for under, say twenty million."
The old man smiled and watched as the Admiral took out a bag of crystal balls, counted out twenty million in crystal and handed them to him. The old man reached into his dirty pocket and revealed his own crystal ball and rolled it on the desk to Captain Justo. "That's a good admiral, ye are. How many men carry around in their pocket a fortune grand enough t' make five hundred men stinkin' rich? Ye be everythin' ye're supposed to be and more. And just so ya don't think I don't appreciate a man o' yer reputation, I made a log of everythin' I know about the capture of the Isian, those long forty years ago, and stored it on this crystal."
He carefully handed it to the Admiral. "I'm hopin' ya might use the ship to find me son, if ye get the chance, that is. If'n ye get out of Seration territory in one piece, right?"
"How much time do we have?" Captain Ezra Justo asked smartly as he put the title to the space ship safely in his coat pocket.
"I'd say about three days, if yer lucky, two days if yer unlucky and about four hours if everythin' turns out like I expect it to."
"Then we don't have a moment to lose."
"Good luck then." The old man chuckled. "I'm sorry ye have to run. An don't forget yer desk. Tis a shame, I liked that desk."
"Twenty million in crystal!" Marion exclaimed once they were securely inside their own transporter. "Why would you have twenty million in crystal ready to give to a Seration Pirate? I thought you said this was a normal business negotiation?"
"It's family business." The Admiral said solemnly as they sailed at half port speed toward the salvage bay where the space ship was stored. "The Isian isn't an ordinary space ship, son, it's our family's most valuable possession. Inside that ship is centuries of irreplaceable craftsmanship, art and history. That would be worth risking our lives for alone, but there's more, our family's honor is on the line.
"When you grandfather lost the Isian to the Seration Pirates on his first voyage forty years ago, he lost his dignity with it. He was so discouraged he gave up space vortex travel and forbade any of his sons from ever working in space again. Out of six sons, your Uncle Aaron and I are the only ones who disobeyed his wishes and became Star Admirals. Our family honor is on the line. I would have given the old trader a hundred-million in crystal if he would have asked for it."
When they drew close to the salvage bay they were joined by two other small transport ships. One was a barge from the Salvage Space Station, and the other was a Schooner from the Argo, Admiral Justo's star ship. The salvage barge verified the impound release order and authenticated the salvage title. A few minutes passed uneasily, then the massive blast doors began to swing open. As they did, the lights from the salvage barge shone on a dark shrouded vessel. When the doors were fully opened, the space barge slowly entered the bay and unlocked the seal holding the Isian securely to the space station. The ship drifted freely, without power, and needed the help of the salvage barge to keep it from hitting the sides of the bay. The salvage barge steadied the dead ship and slowly pulled it out of its hiding place. Several crew members exited the barge in space suits and jet packs and floated to remove the covering that veiled the condition of the ship.
Marion's heart raced. This was the first time they had a chance to look at the impounded star ship. The hidden shape the ship began to take form as sheets of protective padding were stripped away from the hull. Piece by piece the cover was removed revealing a spectacular, perfect star ship. It was breathtaking. Instead of being made from industrial-grade gold like the Argo, the Isian was crafted with the highest grade of fine ceremonial gold. It was made after the ancient Alfa Class design, with swept back wings and an arcing tail rising high above the body of the ship.
"Did you know the Isian was Alpha Class?" Marion asked his equally excited father.
"I did," The Admiral confirmed, "and a lot more. Your grandfather inherited the Isian forty years ago after the tragic, early death of your great grandfather. He tried to complete his father's last scheduled mission and lost the ship to Seration Pirates on his very first voyage. It was such a shock he refused to captain another ship. I asked him about it once when I was ten and I received a spanking like I'd never experienced before. He was mortified by his behavior and said I could ask any question I wanted, but I was too hurt to ask. This situation is already more complicated than I ever imagined."
He closed his eyes for a second and then put his hand on Marion's shoulder. "I shouldn't have brought you along; your mother would be frantic if she knew how much danger we are in."
"I can handle this, I know a lot more about piloting a star ship than you give me credit for. I can do this," his son insisted.
"I believe you can. That's why I agreed to let you come. I needed someone I could trust with my life. There is a Seration Star Destroyer three days time bound from here. They have long range fighters that could be here in twenty-four terra hours if they wanted to send them. They also have fighter probes that could make the voyage sooner than that. I don't know how badly the Seration Confederation wants the Isian. From the words of
Cridoa, and the look in the eyes of those three in the negotiation room earlier today, they’ll stop at nothing until they get it.
"We have to tie the Isian to the Argo and sail her far enough away to give us time to get her ready to pass through the Chanson Vortex. Any vortex will suit our purposes, but I think the Chanson Vortex is flowing at the strongest frequency right now. While the rest of the crew get the tow bar attached to the ship, I need you to be inside the ship to initiate the start up sequence. Once the command center computers are booted up we can see what kind of damage we have. There is a chance the vortex drives are still operational. If they are, I need you to get them ready. Suit up, I need you in there now." Marion got out of his seat and slipped on his silver, airless coat. He was about to don his helmet when an explosion rattled the Argo's small shuttle craft. He looked out the window and saw a portion of the space station erupt in flames and spew metal and glass into the airless night. The salvage workers also saw the explosion. Without removing the remainder of the protective coverings off the Isian, they quickly jetted to the salvage barge, entered the stout craft, unhooked it from the Isian and darted away toward the wounded space station.
"We're on our own," Admiral Justo yelled over his communicator to the Argo. "Major Alden, get the Schooner in position; we're going to have to tug the Isian away from the space station ourselves. Send a crew out to remove the rest of the covering. We don't have much time." He turned to his son and gave a few more desperate commands. "As soon as we have the ship secured by the Schooner you get in there and check out the vortex drive. I'm heading back to the Argo to get the tow bars ready. Can you do this?"
Marion nodded his head and looked out the window only to see another portion of the space station rock in a massive explosion. "They'll be after us next," the Admiral lamented. "I hope that twenty million in crystal was enough. I should have given Cridoa more to bribe his own staff. Go now Marion, I'll see you back at the Argo. Please be careful. That's an order."
Marion secured his round helmet and floated his way to the back of the ship. He closed the air lock and unlatched a jet pack from the side of the bay. Donning the pack he took a mighty lunge from the bay door. He aimed all his weight for the x on the back of the shuttle which opened like the iris of an eye when he came close to hitting it. He floated into open space and activated the jet pack which whined into full life.
"I'm ship-bound, Admiral," the young Justo announced. "Permission to captain the Isian?" "Permission granted." His father responded through his helmet communicator. "Your voice patterns are now programmed to activate all systems on the Isian. You are the captain. Good luck."
Chapter 1
The negotiation room was dimly lit with blue photon tubes and dim static lights. The smell of stale food hung in the reprocessed air. Each room and hall sector in the decrepit salvage space station had low ceilings and undecorated reinforced metal walls that could be sealed off in case of a hull breach. Disaster and the loss of life were common because of the dirty and dangerous work of parting-out and scrapping worn-out space craft and stolen machinery. The Prison Salvage Space Station was oddly located in deep space, with only a high security penal colony called the Royal Prison Planet close enough to restock its supplies.
Admiral Ezra Justo looked around at the dirty furnishings, the drab, claustrophobic space and the cluttered, ornate desk that he knew would witness the fate of his family's most prized possession. He was a ninth-generation starship captain and the rightful Admiral to Kings of his people. His brothers, uncles and cousins were all involved in the same trade, and they took their business very seriously. It also paid well. The Admiral didn't have to work; he had enough crystal in the bank to purchase a fleet of starships.
Nevertheless, with the command of an Isian starship came the commission to work until the blood ceased flowing in his veins. He was fifty-six terra years, with speckled grey hair and a solid yet round build. The years were starting to show. All the crystal in the universe couldn't stop the onslaught of time.
Standing next to him was his son Marion James Justo, the heir to the throne of all Is, but more importantly, the only hope he had of extending his own family line. Marion was twenty-one terra years and had just completed a two year service assignment to New Euna also known as Terra 1154 in the Florin Galaxy. During his two year assignment he dug wells, built schools, and tended to the needs of a gentle people trying to start a new colony. The Admiral admired his son's energy, generosity and compassion.
Marion was a tall young man with broad shoulders made strong with many hours of heavy labor. His fair complexion was browned by the single sun of the Euna star system, but his hair was bleached to a near golden shine. His eyes were blue like all of his father's family but his eyebrows were darker, like his mother's. He looked like a prince from head to toe, and his father was very proud of him. He had big plans for his son. He thought now that his service-time was completed he would immerse him in the duties of the family business.
"Are you sure they meant to have us meet here?" the young man asked hesitantly. "This salvage space station doesn't have a clean room in it. I wouldn't want to negotiate for a space scooter in this room."
"Just be patient Marion. I have a feeling this meeting is not exactly public knowledge. If I had to guess . . . quiet, here they come."
An old worn out man limped into the room and together several younger men followed after him. The elder man had an air of importance, although the rumpled utility space suit he wore didn't give him any dignity. The younger men were covered in grease and soot and their hair was long, unwashed and scraggly. They were men of hard, dirty work.
One of them didn't understand the value of keeping his opinions to himself. "I only sent the transfer of title request but an hour ago." The young man complained loudly as they entered the room. "How d'ye expect ‘em to give us the clearance to transfer a title so soon? All I have ready is a salvage title, an why are ye tradin' with an Isian Admiral anyway, all alone, without an official negotiator here, it's madness."
"Keep it shut, boy," The old man growled. "Ye stand over there and stay out of me way. Don't open yer trap, none of ya. I only have ye here as witnesses. So do yer job and witness, right?"
The three young men ducked into the shadows and held their peace. The elder limped over to the table and, without looking up, cleaned off the desk with the swipe of his large and muscular arm that belied his limp. All the papers, writing tools and books flew to the floor and added to the general filthiness of the room.
"It goes like this," he growled. "I'm called Cridoa, son of Cerdic, that dirt bag in the shadows is Ingild the Lesser, eyes, ears and yappin' mouth of the Seration Confederation and these are his mates. I suppose ye be Admiral Justo but who's this other pup ye brought with ye? I told ye to come alone, are ye deaf or dumb?"
"This is my son, Marion. We stand as one."
"Aye, beggin' yer pardon. A blood son can stand with ye." The old man ducked his head down with respect. "I had a blood son once, and I would we had him stand next to me, but I'll not burden ye with that sad story. I found a ship floatin' in me sector, see, and I own the salvage rights for me sector and everything in it. I have complete authority to everything havin' to do with this transaction, ain't that right boys?" He looked over at the men standing in the corner and they all nodded nervously. "Idone some searchin' and it looks like ye might have an interest in ownin' the pile o' rubbish I found floatin' in me territory, an I might have an interest in givin' her to ye for a fair profit. Are ye still interested?"
"I am interested." Admiral Justo said in a dignified way. "We have agreed on a price through our emissaries, and I am ready to make the transfer as you requested."
"Did ye follow me strict instructions, down to the last?" The old man wheezed with a look of craziness in his eyes.
"I did as you instructed. I have deposited the digits into your accounts. Do you have the title of the ship with you?"
"O' course I do, do ye think I be off the head?" The old man walked around the table and took out a round ball the size of marble and rolled it in his dirty old hands. "Here's the title, but it's only a salvage title mind you, makes the ship worth about as much as a dirty penny, butif'n yer willin t' trade, then I'm willn' t' take yer money, though I think ye be mad entering into deep Seration territory, next door, as it were, to the Royal Prison Planet. You must want this piece of floatin' jewelry pretty badly to make this kind a trip. So I'm uppin' me price. I'll take what ye offered and then I'll have another twenty million, in crystal."
"Twenty million in crystal?" Young Marion Justo coughed out. "The price has been settled on. What kind of negotiation is this?"
"Keep yer pup shut up, Admiral." The ancient trader barked ferociously as he circled them like a wild animal. "Did ye think ye could waltz into me own backgarden and not play by me rules? Did ye think this little transaction was going to come off without a hitch? If so, then ye be the mad ones I'll bet."
Admiral Justo motioned for his son to be still. He paused for a moment, and then spoke with quiet power and authority. "I have had many dealing with Serations in the past and I expect I will have many more in the future. Serations are men of their word, from the greatest to the weakest, so when you increase the price for the object of our barter by such a significant amount, and in untraceable crystal, there must be a good reason for it. Why do you break your own time honored vow of fair dealing?"
The old man went pale. His fingers started to shake and a tear leaked from one eye and then both became as hard as glass. He exploded. "They stole me son," he yelled. "Those ungrateful sons of the infernal pit, they recruited him to capture this very ship forty long years ago, and then they lost the ship and me son with it. Is twenty million worth me son? Is a hundred million? You can take yer lousy filthy crystal and sink with it for all I care, but the Seration Confederation will not have that ship. I won't allow them to get their filthy, connivin' hands on it. I don't know why the Confederation tried to rob it, an I don't know how they let it slip from their fingers, but for forty years I have been searching for it, and I finally found it.
"I broke into the ship and searched everywhere aboard her. I found no sign of life nor limb, nor corpse of me boy. I found yer cursed golden ship but not me lad. Now all me hope is gone, he's lost to me. Me tears and me dreams are all dried out like a desert. I only live for revenge, see, I refuse to let the Seration Confederation have the ship. They want it like flies want flesh, but I made up me mind to double cross ‘em, and to trade it to the only man strong enough to take on the Seration Confederation and rob her away. That's why I called ye, an now ye be here. Do you happen to have twenty million in crystal layin' about?"
With those revealing words Ingild the Lesser bolted out of the room and ran down the hall. The other two stood in confusion and shook their heads with pale white faces. Cridoa didn't even try to stop them as they, too, ran out after him.
"And why would I bring another twenty million in crystal to bargain for a ship I already paid fifteen million digits to get?"
"Ah, ye want t' know what ye'll be getting for an extra twenty million in untraceable crystal?" He laughed as he looked at Captain Justo intently. "Ya give me a chance to live, that's what ye get. When the Confederation discovers I traded the Isian to ya I'll be slaughtered before they ever sentence me to life imprisonment. Either way it'll be death to me. Never again will I sail the wide open reaches of space a free man. But what does that matter? Died I did when me son was taken from me. Tis only now have I begun to live, these last few moments."
"I didn't come to start a war. I came with legitimate papers. I paid with digits through your official Seration Central Bank. I brought my son along to get acquainted with the future duties of the ship's captain."
"Aye, now ye see why I need an extra twenty million in crystal." The old man laughed. "I won't see any of the digits ye paid me through the Seration Central Bank, and I have to make good on a lot of bribes. The rest of the crystal, let's just say it's going to a worthy cause. I've bribed a judge to give me a lesser sentence if I'm caught, but I'm not sure he'll honor the bribe. But I know this, if I don't hand it over, It'll be the end of me, right?"
"This is madness! The Admiral exclaimed. "I cannot pay you bribe money. I am Isian. I cannot make deals in the shadows."
"Yet here ye be." The old man smiled, "Ye know our laws be corrupt. Ye know who we are and why we do what we do. Why do ye act so surprised, dear Admiral? But if ye be surprised then be quick about it. Me three worthy cohorts weren't in on me little plot. No doubt, they're rushin' to turn me in as we speak. They're squealin' on me for the reward money, I suspect, or maybe for the chance to stay alive. That's the biggest reason, I think. I don't blame ‘em. So you'd better made a decision. Do ye finish the trade, and send me to prison, or do ye not make the trade and see me surely die? I be in yer hands."
A few seconds passed in darkness and then a light came into Admiral Justo's eyes. "I refuse to change the original terms of our agreement. I will not pay you so much as a single crystal for the ship; especially if it's to be used in bribery and illegal activities. However, I am growing rather fond of this desk. I know you are a savvy trader of antiquities and would not part with it for under, say twenty million."
The old man smiled and watched as the Admiral took out a bag of crystal balls, counted out twenty million in crystal and handed them to him. The old man reached into his dirty pocket and revealed his own crystal ball and rolled it on the desk to Captain Justo. "That's a good admiral, ye are. How many men carry around in their pocket a fortune grand enough t' make five hundred men stinkin' rich? Ye be everythin' ye're supposed to be and more. And just so ya don't think I don't appreciate a man o' yer reputation, I made a log of everythin' I know about the capture of the Isian, those long forty years ago, and stored it on this crystal."
He carefully handed it to the Admiral. "I'm hopin' ya might use the ship to find me son, if ye get the chance, that is. If'n ye get out of Seration territory in one piece, right?"
"How much time do we have?" Captain Ezra Justo asked smartly as he put the title to the space ship safely in his coat pocket.
"I'd say about three days, if yer lucky, two days if yer unlucky and about four hours if everythin' turns out like I expect it to."
"Then we don't have a moment to lose."
"Good luck then." The old man chuckled. "I'm sorry ye have to run. An don't forget yer desk. Tis a shame, I liked that desk."
"Twenty million in crystal!" Marion exclaimed once they were securely inside their own transporter. "Why would you have twenty million in crystal ready to give to a Seration Pirate? I thought you said this was a normal business negotiation?"
"It's family business." The Admiral said solemnly as they sailed at half port speed toward the salvage bay where the space ship was stored. "The Isian isn't an ordinary space ship, son, it's our family's most valuable possession. Inside that ship is centuries of irreplaceable craftsmanship, art and history. That would be worth risking our lives for alone, but there's more, our family's honor is on the line.
"When you grandfather lost the Isian to the Seration Pirates on his first voyage forty years ago, he lost his dignity with it. He was so discouraged he gave up space vortex travel and forbade any of his sons from ever working in space again. Out of six sons, your Uncle Aaron and I are the only ones who disobeyed his wishes and became Star Admirals. Our family honor is on the line. I would have given the old trader a hundred-million in crystal if he would have asked for it."
When they drew close to the salvage bay they were joined by two other small transport ships. One was a barge from the Salvage Space Station, and the other was a Schooner from the Argo, Admiral Justo's star ship. The salvage barge verified the impound release order and authenticated the salvage title. A few minutes passed uneasily, then the massive blast doors began to swing open. As they did, the lights from the salvage barge shone on a dark shrouded vessel. When the doors were fully opened, the space barge slowly entered the bay and unlocked the seal holding the Isian securely to the space station. The ship drifted freely, without power, and needed the help of the salvage barge to keep it from hitting the sides of the bay. The salvage barge steadied the dead ship and slowly pulled it out of its hiding place. Several crew members exited the barge in space suits and jet packs and floated to remove the covering that veiled the condition of the ship.
Marion's heart raced. This was the first time they had a chance to look at the impounded star ship. The hidden shape the ship began to take form as sheets of protective padding were stripped away from the hull. Piece by piece the cover was removed revealing a spectacular, perfect star ship. It was breathtaking. Instead of being made from industrial-grade gold like the Argo, the Isian was crafted with the highest grade of fine ceremonial gold. It was made after the ancient Alfa Class design, with swept back wings and an arcing tail rising high above the body of the ship.
"Did you know the Isian was Alpha Class?" Marion asked his equally excited father.
"I did," The Admiral confirmed, "and a lot more. Your grandfather inherited the Isian forty years ago after the tragic, early death of your great grandfather. He tried to complete his father's last scheduled mission and lost the ship to Seration Pirates on his very first voyage. It was such a shock he refused to captain another ship. I asked him about it once when I was ten and I received a spanking like I'd never experienced before. He was mortified by his behavior and said I could ask any question I wanted, but I was too hurt to ask. This situation is already more complicated than I ever imagined."
He closed his eyes for a second and then put his hand on Marion's shoulder. "I shouldn't have brought you along; your mother would be frantic if she knew how much danger we are in."
"I can handle this, I know a lot more about piloting a star ship than you give me credit for. I can do this," his son insisted.
"I believe you can. That's why I agreed to let you come. I needed someone I could trust with my life. There is a Seration Star Destroyer three days time bound from here. They have long range fighters that could be here in twenty-four terra hours if they wanted to send them. They also have fighter probes that could make the voyage sooner than that. I don't know how badly the Seration Confederation wants the Isian. From the words of
Cridoa, and the look in the eyes of those three in the negotiation room earlier today, they’ll stop at nothing until they get it.
"We have to tie the Isian to the Argo and sail her far enough away to give us time to get her ready to pass through the Chanson Vortex. Any vortex will suit our purposes, but I think the Chanson Vortex is flowing at the strongest frequency right now. While the rest of the crew get the tow bar attached to the ship, I need you to be inside the ship to initiate the start up sequence. Once the command center computers are booted up we can see what kind of damage we have. There is a chance the vortex drives are still operational. If they are, I need you to get them ready. Suit up, I need you in there now." Marion got out of his seat and slipped on his silver, airless coat. He was about to don his helmet when an explosion rattled the Argo's small shuttle craft. He looked out the window and saw a portion of the space station erupt in flames and spew metal and glass into the airless night. The salvage workers also saw the explosion. Without removing the remainder of the protective coverings off the Isian, they quickly jetted to the salvage barge, entered the stout craft, unhooked it from the Isian and darted away toward the wounded space station.
"We're on our own," Admiral Justo yelled over his communicator to the Argo. "Major Alden, get the Schooner in position; we're going to have to tug the Isian away from the space station ourselves. Send a crew out to remove the rest of the covering. We don't have much time." He turned to his son and gave a few more desperate commands. "As soon as we have the ship secured by the Schooner you get in there and check out the vortex drive. I'm heading back to the Argo to get the tow bars ready. Can you do this?"
Marion nodded his head and looked out the window only to see another portion of the space station rock in a massive explosion. "They'll be after us next," the Admiral lamented. "I hope that twenty million in crystal was enough. I should have given Cridoa more to bribe his own staff. Go now Marion, I'll see you back at the Argo. Please be careful. That's an order."
Marion secured his round helmet and floated his way to the back of the ship. He closed the air lock and unlatched a jet pack from the side of the bay. Donning the pack he took a mighty lunge from the bay door. He aimed all his weight for the x on the back of the shuttle which opened like the iris of an eye when he came close to hitting it. He floated into open space and activated the jet pack which whined into full life.
"I'm ship-bound, Admiral," the young Justo announced. "Permission to captain the Isian?" "Permission granted." His father responded through his helmet communicator. "Your voice patterns are now programmed to activate all systems on the Isian. You are the captain. Good luck."
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