The Master of Muscigny (The First Admiral Series Book 5) (11 page)

The Star Destroyer Titan

Marrhus Lokkrien sat alone in his newly-established Private Quarters aboard the Star Destroyer Titan. Since the disappearance of the Aquarius, with First Admiral Caudwell, the flagship of the Universal Alliance Fleet had become the Titan. In front of him on the large work-desk, the folios, reports, projections and strategy documents that were the day-to-day administration of the Alliance Fleet were neatly sorted into three distinct piles. The first pile was designated ‘Action’, and required immediate attention from someone. The second pile came under the category ‘Further Information Required’, and indicated that there was insufficient data for a decision to be made. The third pile, and by far the largest, was designated ‘File Copy’.

Sitting back on the well-upholstered chair behind the work-desk, Marrhus Lokkrien marvelled at how Billy Caudwell managed to stay on top of such a huge workload and still find opportunities to spend some kind of time down on Earth with his family. Even as Chief of Staff and effective second-in-command, Lokkrien had a workload that was dwarfed by the sheer scale of the information that First Admiral Billy Caudwell had to process to even function as a Supreme Military Commander. Even with three assistants, Lokkrien was beginning to feel snowed under.

Reaching forward, Lokkrien lifted the next folio from the gradually shrinking, but still intimidatingly large fourth pile which was designated ‘To Do’. It was a report, albeit brief from Jedithram Prust. Supply Technician Jedithram Prust, known as ‘Jed’, acted as First Admiral Caudwell’s double down on Earth for the Duty Periods that the real Billy had to attend to the Fleet. It was a fairly straightforward report of how ‘Billy Caudwell’ was progressing with his new school somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. Technician Prust seemed to be enjoying settling into the new environment, however, he did raise the question of the First Admiral’s expected return. Prust was concerned that he was in danger of establishing behaviours and personality patterns that were contrary to First Admiral Caudwell’s. The First Admiral was always scrupulously careful not to reveal any facet of his double life with the Fleet for fear that ruthless people would threaten his family in order to acquire the Alliance’s advanced technology.

Dropping the folio sheet onto the pale-blue square desk plate, Lokkrien passed his hand over the small, red circular scanner which transferred the data on the folio to the First Admiral’s Personal Files, and then disintegrated and recycled the physical report.

With another sigh, Lokkrien also wished that he had some indication of when the First Admiral would be returning. It had been some time since the Aquarius had been dragged into the unrecorded Phenomenon. Researchers and Integration Technicians back on Garmauria were trawling through the huge Garmaurian Civil and Military databases to find some clue as to what the Phenomenon was, and more importantly, what it would do to the Aquarius. But, without even the remotest idea of potential search parameters, the researchers would have no real clues about where to even start with their searching.

Looking at the pile of ‘To Do’ work once more, Lokkrien knew that he had to stay on top of this unending chore until the First Admiral’s return. Deep down, in the very marrow of his bones, Acting First Admiral Marrhus Lokkrien knew that Billy Caudwell would be returning. He didn’t know how or when, but his instinct told him that if it was physically possible for Billy Caudwell to get back, then he was the only person that Lokkrien knew would succeed. His instinct had never been wrong in the past, and now it was telling him that Billy Caudwell was still alive. For a moment, he considered that it might just be wishful thinking, but quickly dismissed the idea. Billy Caudwell had founded this Universal Alliance, and there was no way that Marrhus Lokkrien could continue that work for any great length of time. Billy Caudwell was coming back, and that was that in Lokkrien’s mind.

The next folio Lokkrien lifted was from the Astrophysicists on New Thexxia. Their analysis of the Scanner data from the disappearance of the Aquarius was vague, convoluted and inconclusive. The New Thexxia scientists had nothing new to offer, no theories or conjectures and very little in terms of recommendations. The Phenomenon itself had seemingly shrunk in size over the few hours after the Aquarius had been dragged into it until it had completely disappeared. The probes that had been fired into the phenomenon had been crushed by the massive gravity inside it, and had sent back no usable data.

The universe-wide Scanner search was also proving fruitless. It was the very longest of long shots, and would require a Herculean effort from the Engineers, Scanner Officers and Technicians. But in the absence of any better ideas, it was the best strategy Lokkrien could produce. Sector by sector, quadrant by quadrant and galaxy by galaxy, Lokkrien had ordered the entire universe be systematically searched. He knew that it would take months, perhaps years, to complete, but it was a whole lot better than sitting around doing nothing. And maybe, just maybe, they might get lucky, Lokkrien considered. Even the experimental Garmaurian technique of sending weak electro-magnetic pulses into the Trionic Web was being employed. It was very primitive technology by Garmaurian standards, and the data would take weeks to collate, but to Lokkrien’s mind, every avenue had to be explored.

Even if he had to stand on the top of the hull of the Titan and shine a flashlight into the distance, he knew he would retrieve Billy Caudwell.

Somehow.

The Star Cruiser Aquarius, April 15
th

Senior Integration Officer Masthan Gummell drummed his fingernails on the table top in frustration.

“Nothing,” he muttered to himself as another interrogation of the main database of Garmaurian historical records threw up another ‘No Matches Found’ message on his screen.

It had been yet another fruitless four hours at the historical database for Masthan Gummell, and it was a very precious four hours that he could ill-afford to waste on what seemed like a pointless project. However, the First Admiral had ordered the records scanned, but deep down, Masthan Gummell felt that it was a lost cause.

Running his fingers through his hair as if he could somehow stimulate his brain to generating some new ideas, Gummell sighed heavily and lifted the portable keypad from the table top. Quietly, he tapped some ideas onto the computer screen as he tried to make any kind of sense of what he already knew.

“Time travel is out,” he muttered running a line through the words on the screen and sighed once again. “So, what looks like time travel but isn’t?” he cudgelled his wits once more.

“An illusion of time travel?” he considered aloud. “And, why would anyone want to do that?” he added as an afterthought. “And, how would they do that?”

Sitting back, Masthan Gummell considered that the ‘why’ might be a tough question to answer, but the ‘how’ might be an easier proposition. After all, the Garmaurian, the most advanced species in the universe, most likely had the technology, and they certainly had the motivation for some of the most ambitious projects ever conceived of.

“Right, I’m creating a world from eight hundred years in the past, what do I need?” he sighed once more as his mind hit another brick wall. “Come on, think!” Masthan berated himself as no fresh ideas flowed from his already over-tired brain.

“An illusion of time travel,” he repeated his original idea, and stared blankly at the screen once more.

Suddenly, Masthan Gummell leapt up from the chair as if it had been electrified.

“An illusion! Of course!” he yelled as he remembered that the Garmaurians had shielded their home planet from the rest of the universe when the last of their species had died from the effects of the biological weapon created during their civil war.

“They can shield one planet from the universe,” he speculated, “so they can shield the entire universe from one planet!?” he muttered, his mind racing at the implications. “So, they’d need the same kind of force-shielding and image-generation technology that hid Garmauria. And a planet with life forms?” his mind ground to halt as he sat down dejectedly once more. “They couldn’t build or replicate an entire planet complete with flora and fauna, could they?” he questioned himself.

For a moment, he drummed his fingernails again, still burning with excitement, but having hit a logical brick wall.

“But, here we are on something that looks like Terra, but can’t possibly be Terra?” he muttered darkly as his mind raced through the possibilities. “A clone? A duplicate Terra?” he added as his mind recoiled from the sheer impossibility of it.

Then, with a shrug, Masthan Gummell turned to the ‘search’ function on his computer screen and keyed in the words ‘Planet Replication’.

For long moments, the computer scanned every historical file until the result screen appeared with the words ‘One File Found’. A startled and amazed Gummell stared at the screen for a few seconds unable to believe that such a wild idea might actually have found a hit in the Garmaurian historical records. Then, with baited breath, Masthan Gummell pushed through the ‘search’ facility and found the lone entry in the database, which had the title ‘Project Geminus’. It was a huge file that had not been accessed for nearly five years. Looking at the creation date, Gummell was stunned to see that the project had been running for nearly two thousand years. It had the highest security clearance rating, which Gummell already possessed, and was registered under both Garmaurian Military and Colonial Office codes.

“What in the name of Dargon do we have here?” Gummell muttered calling upon the name of a Deity from his home planet.

Opening the file, Masthan Gummell sat forward in his seat and began to read.

The War Room, Star Cruiser Aquarius.

“Gentlemen, my apologies,” Masthan Gummell gasped as he quickly took his allocated seat around the War Table.

Stumbling into the still half-repaired War Room, Gummell had just emerged, late, from the historical databases and dashed as quickly as he could to the Weekly Command Conference chaired by First Admiral Caudwell. The other four senior officers around the table smiled indulgently. Of all the departments on the stricken Star Cruiser, Gummell’s team had the heaviest workload.

“Are you all right there, Masthan?” Billy Caudwell asked the flustered and heavily perspiring Senior Integration Officer.

“Oh, yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

“Very well, let’s get started then,” Billy announced and turned to Senior Engineering Officer Magriennen. “Engineer, how are the repairs progressing?”

“Sir, believe it or not, we are actually on schedule for the repair and replacement of the micro-circuitry. The Proto-Star reactors are still locked down and secure, however, we are on the point of running tests on the new circuitry to the high-yield pulsar-cannon.”

“Do you mean a controlled release of Main Power to the main armament?”

“Yes, sir. First and foremost, we are a ship of war, plus the pulsar-cannon circuits have the largest number of failsafe systems. If anything goes wrong with the test, we can easily shut down before we do any further damage.”

“That sounds sensible, how are your people holding up?”

“Well, sir, they’re tired, frustrated and homesick, but then aren’t we all, however, we’re making progress so morale is surprisingly high.”

“Please convey to your teams from me that their efforts and professionalism have not gone unnoticed.”

“Thank you, sir, the troops will appreciate that.”

“Are we any closer to sorting out the force-shielding generators?”

“The force-shielding system circuitry is a complete mess, sir; relays and couplings are almost all burned out. We’re replicating new components as fast as the portable synthesisers can produce them, but constructing and testing the new ones is desperately time consuming.”

“But we are still on schedule for that repair to happen?”

“Yes, sir, another two weeks of round-the-clock should get us there if it all goes to plan.”

“Well, at least we know that the end is in sight, thank you,” Billy praised and turned to the black uniformed Landing Trooper Officer in charge of Security.

“Sir, Gentlemen,” the muscular Cerador named Musgdall Garn addressed the meeting a bit more formally than his colleagues, “Overall, security is at an acceptable level owing to the current circumstances,” he began and shuffled a series of folio sheets on the top of the War Table.

“We have adequate force-shielding to protect us against any attack from the locals, but that’s about as far as it goes. Our routine ground patrols report no unusual activity, whilst our Eagle patrols report no unusual or threatening activity, except for what appears to be reinforcements at Acre. Troop ships have been arriving for the past four days or so.”

“The Knights Templar had a big military facility at Acre. Is it something we should be concerned about?” Billy asked.

“Any build-up of forces bears watching, sir, but without any even remotely credible intelligence about their intentions, we’re kind of stuck out on a limb.”

“What about any other military build ups, Garn?”

“Nothing, sir, no troop build ups in Syria, Egypt or anywhere else in Jerusalem.”

“Keep an eye on them Garn, these Templars were tricky customers, they might be up to something. What’s our situation for Eagles?

“In terms of Eagles, we have fifteen fully functional fighters out of our complement of sixty...”

“That’s not so good, Musgdall, can we save any of the others?” Billy asked.

The losses from the crash had been heavy.

“Well, sir, of the forty-five that are unserviceable at present, eighteen are total write-offs that we can cannibalise for spares, the other twenty-seven are repairable, but the Technicians being allocated to the Engineering department means that the Eagles will just have to wait for now.”

“Well, as I don’t envisage any large scale attacks from space, we’ll just have to make do with fifteen Eagles at present.”

“As you wish, sir, one of the Eagle patrols has deployed a group of four low-level surveillance satellites into orbit as standard procedure. We’re keeping an eye on the major military installations in the area just in case, but we can easily see off anything they can throw at us in this time.”

“Anything from the phenomenon that brought us here?” the Engineer asked.

“All the data has been sent to my colleague at Integration for analysis,” Garn indicated to Officer Gummell.

“Any progress with that Officer Gummell?” Billy asked.

“Erm, yes, sir, I believe that we may have a breakthrough, but can we hear the other reports as I believe we should discuss what I have in more depth.”

“Very intriguing, Masthan, as you wish, please continue Officer Garn.”

“There’s not much more really, sir, my colleague at Integration can give us details on the estate defences later. Training the local men in weapons handling is progressing; several of them are old soldiers, but they join in quite handily with the Troopers for physical training sessions. We have no major issues with discipline; everyone is too busy and too tired to cause any real trouble, and that concludes my report.”

“Thank you,” Billy concluded, “and once again, please convey my thanks for all their efforts to your teams.”

“Thank you, sir, they’ll appreciate it coming from you,” Garn said with sincerity.

“Right,” Billy turned to the Ship’s Commander, a Thexxain named Mudrus Garviennen, “Commander?”

“Sir, Gentlemen, Crew morale is holding steady with the Engineers working flat out to repair the circuitry. Repairs to the War Room, as you can see, are progressing, with an expected completion sometime next week...”

“Well, that is some good news,” Billy praised.

“The external Scanners are almost all back to functionality, but without Main Power they are limited in their range and efficiency, the major systems controls have been tested under simulation, so when Main Power is restored we will at least be ready, thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Mudrus, some good progress. Please thank your people from me for their efforts.”

“Sir,” the Ship’s Commander nodded his acknowledgement as Billy turned to the Medical Officer.

“Ullit, Medical Report?”

“Medical report. First order of business is to record in the Medical log that Scanner Technician Shula Tethriennen succumbed to her injuries just over two hours ago, bringing the death toll to eleven. All the other seriously injured are out of danger.”

“Very well, please enter those details in the Ship’s log and send condolences to the next-of-kin, does she have any family?”

“Her mother died when she was young, but I know her father,” Ship’s Commander Garviennen announced sadly, “he’s going to be devastated.”

“Can you organise a Memorial Service for her, Mudrus?” Billy asked.

“Sir.”

“Generally, the rest of the crew are exhausted, stressed and overworked,” Radkor continued, “accidents are up by sixteen percent, fortunately, nothing serious, but some serious R and R is advised when we get away from here.”

“I think we’re all going to need some of that!” Billy smiled weakly.

“With the thirty former slaves from the estate and the fifty lepers from the Jerusalem colony, we now have almost ninety new medical commitments, which are keeping my teams very busy. The leprosy sufferers have been medicated with anti-bacterial drugs which has cleared their systems of the disease, however, many of them still require ongoing physical therapy support and there is an urgent need for some form of cosmetic procedure to deal with their, sometimes extensive scarring.”

“What about surgery?”

“Some of them would require years of external surgery, sir, and we just do not have the resources for that.”

“Well, I’m sure your people will come up with something,” Billy said.

“I am working with Senior Engineer Magriennen on some kind of DNA-based bio-filter, but it’s very time-consuming and meticulous work.”

“Well, we do have plenty of time on our hands, how is your Royal patient progressing?”

“His Majesty is recovering well, sir, his body is extensively scarred, however, he is young and strong, and so he should have a long and functional lifetime. He has also asked me to provide a clinic for the people of Jerusalem, which I would like to discuss with you later, sir.”

“Good. Once again, please convey my thanks to your teams.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Masthan, are you ready to tell us about your breakthrough now?” Billy turned to the Senior Integration Officer.

“Sir, I have the rest of the Integration Team report to deliver first as it impacts on several other departments.”

“Very well, proceed.”

“First of all, I would like thank all my colleagues around the Table for their help and support. The daily patrol to the Jerusalem leper colony continues to bring in the odd waif and stray which brings our total of new recruits up to fifty-eight. We can easily accommodate these newcomers on the estate, bringing us closer to self-sufficiency for labour.”

“How many more people does the estate need?”

“Another twenty or so, plus we need to consider natural wastage, like deaths and people moving on, so maybe another thirty just to be on the safe side, sir.”

With a nod, Billy indicated him to continue.

“The new Citadel is taking shape thanks to the modified Synthesisers and equipment from the Engineers. The pre-stressed concrete blocks make wall building so much easier. The graveyard was consecrated yesterday, just in that shaded area beneath the cliffs to the east of the Citadel. The water Synthesiser has been activated now that the laser drills have completed the underground pipe work.”

The heavy laser drills had cut through tonnes of rock, searing and melting their pathways into natural pipes. The network to supply the eight wells on the estate was now complete, and the water was flowing rapidly.

“Now, Gentlemen, the phenomenon that brought us here,” Gummell announced excitedly.

“Yes, Masthan, what have you got?” Billy asked expectantly.

“Sir, having scanned the Garmaurian records, I believe that we arrived here in what they called a ‘Trion Conduit’!”

“A ‘Trion Conduit’ is what exactly?”

“Well, sir, basically, I scanned the Garmaurian scientific records for anything to do with time travel and found exactly zero with the exception of some crazy theoretical ramblings that could never ever be tested. So I then looked at Garmaurian activity on Terra in the late twelfth century; again nothing beyond the odd surveillance and their regular interference patrols. It was then that I decided to think laterally and throw out all of our previous assumptions. Suppose we are not on Planet Terra after all, sir?”

“Go on.”

“During the time of what you call the Roman Empire on Terra, during the reign of an Emperor called Augustus, the Garmaurians; under a commander named Tega Dellaz, were deeply involved in a secret project named ‘Geminus’, the goal of which was to transport large, life bearing celestial bodies such as planets from one location to another. The military were interested in moving their installations to and from sensitive areas, and the Colonies Office were keen to move life-bearing bodies to uninhabited galaxies.”

“So, how does this effect Terra?” Medical Officer Radkor asked.

“Earth was always an experiment planet,” Billy interrupted, “it was a dump planet for their failed genetic engineering adventures, so it would be an ideal candidate for such a transportation experiment.”

“That’s right, sir,” Gummell praised, “the Garmaurians had some success moving lifeless bodies over many parsecs, and wanted to test their mechanism on a life-bearing planet.”

“So, what happened, Masthan?”

“The Trion Field that shifted such a huge body, required a massive expenditure of energy, as you can imagine. An expenditure several million orders of magnitude greater than our largest Proto-Star reactors on New Thexxia and Garmauria, so, they decided to boost the Trion Field with Lissian radiation.”

“Lissian?” Billy asked, remembering the solar flare weapon. “Just like the Badromil used to try to fry Earth last year?”

“Yes, sir” Gummell responded. “The Garmaurians were using huge amounts to boost the Trions in Terra’s upper atmosphere and access the Trionic Web.”

“So, did something go wrong?”

“In a word, ‘Yes’, sir. The Garmaurians miscalculated; damaging the Trion Field mechanism. The Trion Field, already loaded with Lissian, became unstable just at the critical moment. And, instead of shifting Planet Terra to a new location, the planet was replicated and shot off into the Trionic Web, landing here.”

“Officer Gummell, that is absolutely astonishing! So, how did this ‘duplicate’ manage to stay in the twelfth century?”