Read Space Chronicles: The Last Human War Online
Authors: Dean Sault
Space Chronicles: The Last Human War
Space Chronicles
The Last Human War
D S SAULT
This book is a work of fiction. Names and character descriptions herein are solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a real person is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved, except as permitted under current U.S. Copyright laws. No part of this literary work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any other form without the prior written permission of the publisher or author.
Cover art by: Dawid Michalczyk www.eonworks.com
Published by: American Writers Publishing Company
Fair Oaks, CA 95628
First printing: May 2008: ISBN number 978-0-9815-1420-8
Second printing/abridged: Jun 2014
Copyright May 2008 by Dean Seybold Sault
This book is dedicated to the Grand Dame of science fiction, Ms. Andre Norton.
As a young boy, I found reading boring and difficult. I was a slow reader with poor retention. This limitation contributed to poor academic performance and a sense of failure in school. One day, I stumbled onto Andre Norton’s book, Galactic Derelict. It was on sale at a church thrift bazaar for twenty-five cents. The intriguing cover art caught my interest and that book changed my life.
I could not put Galactic Derelict down. It challenged my imagination and introduced me to the world of science fantasy as I became mesmerized by the adventures of Travis Fox. Within days, I raided my local library, checking out all the books she wrote. Coincidentally, my grades in school improved dramatically as my fundamental outlook on reading changed forever.
Thank you, Ms. Norton.
Every writer relies on the advice, honest feedback, and investment of time
by beta readers and editors in polishing our stories to final form. I would like to thank all the people who contributed to my story’s development. I could not have produced this space opera without their help. One person, in particular, invested enormous time in editing, formatting and holding my literary hand as I struggled through this process. She does not want to be mentioned publicly, but she knows this thank you is heartfelt.
“Simon, please. Tell the Taskers. They can stop these thoughts.”
As t
he first of Tanarac’s binary suns began to burn off morning mist, Simon gazed through his window across scattered piles of tailings in the mining quarry at the dark jungle beyond. Why did those ominous green depths draw him so strongly?
“
I hold you to the oath,” he said without turning away from the entrancing view.
“Damn that
oath,” Kelly cursed under her breath.
“I don’t
understand these feelings,” he said and turned to peer into her eyes. “I have to figure this out myself. Promise me, you’ll honor the workers’ code.”
“Of course
I will,” she snapped, “if you promise to turn yourself in for thought re-matrix after this shift. Simon? Simon?”
Kelly’s
birthmate and lifelong friend stared into a strange mind vision, euphoric at his first independent thoughts after a lifetime of Tanarac mind programming. Human workers knew the curse of Runner Madness—the daydreaming, weak impulse control, wistful yearning for that which could not be described, but violent death awaited those who succumbed to The Run.
“I’m not afraid
,” Simon spoke with an odd, cold detachment. “You can’t imagine how this feels. I wonder if others felt this before . . .” He drifted back into internal thoughts.
Kelly, Simon and Adam
had spent every day together since their conception in an alien test tube, manufactured by Tanarac’s Human Bio-engineering Center. She could not fathom the irrational force that drove some of the best human workers to leap from their stripper plows and run into the jungle, leaving their birth-teams and total security of the mining quarry. Humans were taught from childhood to fear the Central jungle, yet it did not stop the runners. Her birthmate now seemed poised to succumb to Runner Madness.
“
It’s relief, Kelly. Something is drawing me with a promise relief.”
Relief from what? He did not know.
She touched her best friend’s arm, hoping to penetrate that place where emotions and intellect fight for dominance.
I
f he runs,
she thought,
I hope our Tasker is quick with his stun cord.
“It only takes two
days to re-matrix thoughts,” she whispered encouragement while lightly stroking his forearm. “I promise. They . . . they’ll make you feel better. These impulses won’t bother you in a few days. You’ll be back on the stripper plow with Adam and me. You’ll see.”
Simon glanced down at her
soft touch. It pierced his mental fog.
She’s right
, he thought.
His r
esistance weakened
.
“Nobody can run the boom as good as me. If I turn myself in, they might shut down Striker Twelve.”
“Don’t worry
,” she attempted to assure him. “We have the Taskers. They take care of us. No matter what happens, Taskers will be in control.”
Control!
The word exploded in Simon’s mind. It had always meant safety and security for humans in the labor camps. Why did it suddenly make him so angry?
“I can’t deal with this now
,” he said. “I’ll decide after today’s dig is over.”
Kelly hugged Simon but resolved to keep a close eye on him during the
ir workday in case he tried to run.
A soft chime echoed
, and his door flew open before he could invite the visitor to enter.
“Hey guys, I’m hungry. We got
—” Adam burst in and began talking without hesitation.
“You’re always hungry
,” Simon snapped playfully.
“As I was about to say
, before I was so rudely interrupted, looks like we got a lotta work today. I drew first chit and picked that new mineral strip by the edge of the forest. Looks like a class five deposit of C-syncolite. Outta be worth a lotta deck credits.”
Adam did not wait for his teammates to reply
. He took off down the hallway toward the workers cafeteria, but when Simon attempted to follow, she cut in front of him, spanning the open doorway with her arm to block his exit.
“After work
,” she said and poked him in the chest. “We finish this talk. Got it?”
At breakfast, Kelly
acted as if nothing was wrong. She carried on small talk at the table while sitting opposite Simon. He almost believed she had been able to put aside their troubling conversation, but a barely perceptible plea, emanating from her eyes, left no doubt of lingering concerns.
“You gonna eat that?” Adam spotted Kelly’s untouched sweet roll. “
Wouldn’t wanna insult the breakfast staff with leftovers.”
With a dart of his hand, he snatched the
tasty roll from her plate and popped the entire pastry into his mouth. Well known for his annoying habits, this particular morning, she did not seem to notice or care.
“If it makes you happy, go ahead.” Her monotone response came well after the sweet role had vanished.
Simon noticed her distraction and wondered about her ability to concentrate while driving their stripper plow this day.
A
fter eating, workers chatted patiently at their tables while Taskers cleared the quarry of stray jungle creatures. Most forest animals were harmless, but everyone had heard gruesome stories of unfortunate workers, dragged into the jungle by hungry hicays. (“hi’-kays”)
He
saw one of the six-legged carnivores as a teenager during boomer training at another quarry. Taskers killed it before the morning work session and allowed curious humans to gawk at the carcass. It was larger than a man and covered with long, golden fur, obscuring most of its features. Large, blue eyes made it look friendly, almost like a pet, but his impression changed instantly when the creature rolled onto a garbage cart. Bloodstained teeth and two sets of razor-sharp claws on its upper forelegs left no doubt about its deadliness. He never again questioned the wisdom of letting Taskers clear the quarry before humans entered.
What was I thinking?
He shook his head when he suddenly realized these beasts awaited him in the jungle.
Kelly’s right. I’ll turn myself in for mind re-matrix right after the last work period.
A cold chill ran up his spine
, and he looked out the nearby window at dim light of morning for a cause. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but something was wrong. He knew it.
Across the table,
Kelly smiled. Her psychic link to his thoughts had been a lifelong secret. She knew his decision without words.
The
quarry klaxon sounded three all-clear blasts. Stripper plow workers headed across the staging grounds to their assigned rigs. Simon, Kelly and Adam walked past dozens of big mining plows to reach Striker Twelve.
Simon climbed into a small
cage-compartment at the end of a long mechanical boom extending from the front of the ore-mining machine, while Kelly climbed the ladder to her control cabin on top. Adam took his place at the back of the plow to manage the ore’s weight distribution.
Under
her guidance as Plow Captain, the massive equipment trundled awkwardly across countless years of mining ruts toward the edge of the Central Jungle. When she stopped at the grid Adam had selected earlier, she lowered Simon’s cage onto the ground. He stepped out to study surface signs of the wandering veins of C-syncolite mineral while his teammates prepped for the first extraction pass. Working anywhere from the surface to three meters underground, he would soon guide thousands of whirling blades along veins of concentrated mineral deposits.
Adam
managed the massive weight of the ore load as it accumulated in the storage box to prevent off-center loads from toppling the machine and killing the crew.
Simon
returned to his enclosure, positioned the boom for initial penetration. Following customary protocol, he initiated the team’s morning checklist.
“Boomer check. Spin-up in progress,”
ne spoke into his headset. “You guys ready?”
Kelly continued the familiar routine. “Control, check. Master systems, go.
Transit wheels, up. Mining treads, locked. Positive on comm links. Adam, what’s the ore bin status?”
“Hang on, guys.” Despite
a tendency to joke, the young loadmaster always performed his job with great caution. “Got a hydraulic leak on the right laterals. Must be a loose fitting. Gimme a minute to lock it down. How’s that vein look?”
“Unbelievable!
” Simon responded. “I’ve never seen such concentrations at the surface. If it’s that good at three meters, we’re into some serious deck credits. Good call, buddy.”
Simon swung his boom until it was
positioned just above the target zone, and he initiated spin-up of the mining blades. Familiar vibrations spread through the plow, and the whine of his cutting drum grew loud. Again, chills ran up his back. He glanced around, trying to figure out what was causing his apprehension.
Adam climbed down from his cabin
on the back of the stripper plow. He carried two small tools in one hand and proceeded forward until he reached the panel indicated by his instruments. Access panels next to the ladder leading up to Kelly’s control cabin quickly came off. After tightening the faulty fitting, he secured the access plates and headed back to his duty station, double-checking each valve and hose connector as he went.
“I think
that’s got it,” Adam reported over his comm link. “Sorry for the delay.”
It was
an unusually warm morning. There was no breeze, but for some odd reason, Adam felt an icy draft on the back of his neck. He paused, senses straining to detect what might be causing this feeling. Stepping away from the big machine, the loadmaster scanned along its side, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He mentally reviewed his checklist. Everything seemed okay, but something was wrong . . . terribly wrong. He could feel it.
Keying
his comm button, he asked, “Do you see abnormal readings in the laterals, Kelly?”
He
took a couple steps toward the rear of the plow while waiting for her reply. A primitive human instinct suddenly warned him to run. The ladder to the control cabin offered the nearest safety. He three steps and leaped, reaching for higher rungs. His foot missed the crossbar, and the young man hung by his hands, frantically trying to regain footing. In the same instant, an ear-piercing shriek ripped the air. He wrenched himself up the ladder using only his arms.
Simon heard the blood-chilling scream
over the loud drone of his cutting-blade drum. He twisted in his cramped cockpit and watched in horror as a golden-haired animal lunged from behind a bush at the edge of the jungle. It leaped at Adam and hooked an upper-arm around the young man’s throat. Massive weight of the huge beast ripped him off the ladder as razor-sharp claws tore neck flesh, sliced shoulder muscle, and opened long wounds on his back.
Adam
slammed onto the ground, his flesh and worker-tunic shredded into a blood-covered tangle. He instinctively rolled face down and covered his head with his forearms. For an instant, he made eye contact with Simon, his face pleading in terror.
The hicay
made eye contact with Simon and screamed a threat, asserting claim on its prey. This undisputed master of the jungle let out another chilling scream, reared high onto its back two legs, and extended claws on its upper and middle legs, poised for the final kill.
A
bright rope of orange light flashed through the air and wrapped around the hicay’s neck. The big carnivore spun violently, clawing at the glowing pulse cord.
Simon watched th
e master killer thrash on the ground while the Tasker weapon tightened with each movement of the predator. Powerful constrictions choked the life out of the once deadly beast. Hicay and human lay limp on the ground in a growing pool of blood.
Adam’s team members
rushed to his side, but neither had field medical training sufficient to treat such massive injuries. Their supervising Tasker nudged the dead hicay and began twittering alien dialect into his communicator. While talking, he unfolded a blanket of silver foil from his utility belt and placed it completely over their friend, tucking edges under the lifeless human.
Simon’s
feelings raged. Why had their supervising alien been too late to save him?
Kelly clutch
ed Simon tightly with her face buried in his chest. Her knees trembled violently, and only his strong embrace kept her from collapsing.
“
He never had a chance,” Simon whispered and shook his head in disbelief. His fingers threaded into the base of her hairline and held her face against his chest while she sobbed.
Tasker
s and human workers quickly filled the site. A labor team removed Adam’s body on a makeshift litter before a second group of workhands loaded the dead hicay on a trash cart. Even the Head Tasker showed up at the scene. This supreme authority over the quarry interrogated Striker Twelve’s blue-skinned supervisor, before beginning a series of chirps and pointing at Simon and Kelly.
Neither young
worker had ever experienced death. Kelly sobbed uncontrollably for the first time in her adult life, yet she knew, intuitively, this new emotion was right.
Simon
expressed his feelings of betrayal aloud. “How could this happen? Where was our Tasker? He’s supposed to protect us.”
He scanned the nearby thicket that
had concealed the hicay. Despite the violent attack on his birthmate, attraction to those ominous shadows grew stronger.
I don’t understand
, he thought.
A hicay killed Adam. Why do I still want to—no, why do I need to do this?
Deep in the jungle, a hicay screamed
. Everyone looked in the direction of the sound.
