Theogony 1: Janissaries
Read Theogony 1: Janissaries Online
Authors: Chris Kennedy
Janissaries
Book One of
the Theogony
By
Chris
Kennedy
PUBLISHED BY: Chris Kennedy
Copyright
©
2014 Chris Kennedy
All
Rights Reserved
Discover
other titles by Chris Kennedy at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/
or
https://www.facebook.com/chriskennedypublishing.biz
License
Notes
This
ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or
given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re
reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use
only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard
work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction
and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is
purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination
and used fictitiously.
I would like to thank Linda, Jennie and Jimmy, who took the
time to critically read this work and make it better. I would also like to
thank my mother, without whose steadfast belief in me, I would not be where I
am today. Thank you. This book is dedicated to my wife and children, who
sacrificed their time with me so that I could write it.
Cover art by Genesis Graphic
Design
Author’s Notes
Note: When more than one race refers
to a planet or star in Janissaries, the same name is used by both races in
order to prevent confusion. Also on the topic of planet naming, the normal
convention for planets is to take the name of the parent star and add a lower
case letter (i.e., Tau Ceti ‘b’). The first planet discovered in a system is
usually given the designation ‘b’ and later planets are given subsequent
letters as they are found. In order to prevent confusion in Janissaries, the
closest planet to the star in a star system is given the letter ‘a’, with the rest
of the planets given subsequent letters in order of their proximity to the
star.
Note: The ‘Dark Side’ of the Moon.
There is no ‘dark side’ of the moon. Like many bodies in our solar system and
among the stars, the moon is ‘tidally locked,’ where the moon makes one
revolution about its axis at the same rate that it makes one revolution around
the Earth. Because of this, the same side of the moon is always facing the
Earth as it orbits around it. Even though we never see the other side of the
moon from Earth (we have seen it through various probes and explorer craft),
the ‘dark side’ gets as much sunlight as the side we can see. At a length of
just over 27 days, the moon’s day is just a lot longer than ours.
“...the indirect is by far the most hopeful and economic
form of strategy.”
― Sir Basil
H. Liddel-Hart, Strategy
“I may never finish all this paperwork,” said Calvin, “even if
you give me a hand.” Lieutenant Shawn Hobbs, or ‘Calvin’ as he was known to the
other aviators in his F-18 squadron, was catching up on all of the
administrative things that hadn’t been done during the several days of the
Sino-American War. He had started out with a huge pile of post mission reports
to put together, tons of awards to write up and too many next of kin letters to
send.
He looked at the other two occupants of the small cabin for
support. He didn’t find it in Master Chief Ryan O’Leary. “I’m not helping you
do it,” replied his second-in-command during the war. “That’s what they make
officers for.” Although he generally liked his former commanding officer, Ryan
generally
didn’t
like authority. Ryan believed that the reason officers
existed was to take care of the administrative things, which freed him to focus
on the little things...like fighting and winning the nation’s wars.
Two weeks previously, China, after patiently waiting decades
for the peaceful return of Taiwan, had finally decided on a more aggressive
approach. Until then, the threat of a United States’ counterattack had kept
them from invading the island nation, but the Chinese had finally come up with
a way to keep the Americans out of a war in Asia.
They invaded Seattle.
Not only did they invade Seattle (and Tacoma, as well), they
also attacked and captured nearby Bangor Naval Base, with its arsenal of
nuclear warheads for America’s submarine-launched ballistic missiles. With some
of these warheads in hand, they hoped to keep the United States from not only
counterattacking them in Seattle, but in Taiwan, as well, for fear that one of
these warheads would ‘accidentally’ go off.
Lieutenant Hobbs, along with Master Chief O’Leary, a former
SEAL living in the area, had led a group of Rangers on a number of dangerous
missions behind enemy lines during the brief conflict. These missions included
recapturing the stolen nuclear weapons, which enabled the U.S. military to not
only go on the offensive in the northwest, but also to stage a daring raid on
Taiwan that turned the tide of the war.
Unfortunately for Calvin, as the platoon’s only officer, he
was the one responsible for filling out all of the post-war paperwork. Buried
under an avalanche of it, he had requested a couple of weeks of temporary duty
in the Seattle area after the war to get it all completed. Hoping for at least
a little grudging assistance from Ryan, Calvin and his girlfriend, Sara
Sommers, had come out to Ryan’s cabin in the woods.
“All of this paperwork might be my responsibility,” said
Calvin, “but I’ve got a lot more of it than I can do. Take a look at this one,
for example. This is the award for some idiot that saved a colonel from getting
his dumb butt shot off when he tried to attack a tank with just a rifle. Who’d
do a stupid thing like that?” He paused, looking at the award. Ryan looked up,
recognizing that the award was for him. “
A Distinguished Service Cross?
”
Calvin asked, his voice a little louder. “No way! I’m throwing this one away.”
He crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it at the garbage can, missing
badly.
“Really?” asked Ryan, “A Distinguished Service Cross? The
only thing higher than that is the Medal of Honor. Shoot, sir, I was just doing
my job. That was hardly worthy of a Distinguished Service Cross.”
“Well, I say it as worthy,” said Calvin, “and that’s all
that matters. I still have a little bit of influence at the moment, and I plan
to use it before my 15 minutes of fame are over. I’m writing up everyone I can
think of for everything that I can remember. I just need your help in
remembering all of the things our troops did that need to be recognized.”
“The navy said he could only stay here in Seattle until he
got his paperwork done,” added Sara Sommers. She had met Calvin during the war
and hadn’t let him out of her sight since the war ended. “Don’t help him too
much. I don’t want him to get finished too quickly.”
“I see,” said Ryan. “If you’re only staying in Washington
until you finish, you’re not in much of a hurry to get it all completed, are
you?”
“Let’s just say that I’m trying to do a
thorough
job
of it,” replied Calvin. “Besides, when I get back to the squadron, we’re still
going out on our scheduled six month cruise.” He paused and looked at Sara.
“I’m not sure that I want to do that anymore.”
All three of them were quiet for a moment, full of thought.
Without warning, Calvin’s head snapped around to look at one
of the far corners of the room. “We’re not alone,” he said.
“What do you mean?” asked Ryan. “I don’t see anyone.”
“No, I’m telling you, I heard something,” argued Calvin.
“For the last week, I’ve felt like someone’s been watching me, and I know that
I just heard something over in the corner.”
Suddenly, in the corner were three…beings. They were
generally humanoid but didn’t appear to be human, as they were too short, and
their heads were too big.
“Hello,” said one, stepping forward. “Although I guess the
proper thing in your society is for us to say, ‘take us to your leader.’”
“What?” asked Ryan, unable to come to terms with the sudden
appearance of the humanoids. “Who are you?”
“My name is Arges,” the same one said. “We need your help.”
* * * * *
Tom Sommers’ House, North Bend, WA, September 1, 2018
Four days had passed since meeting the aliens, and Calvin
looked out the front window of Tom Sommers’ living room to see two large, black
Suburbans pulling up out front. The three-bedroom ranch that Sara’s parents
owned was about 25 miles east of Seattle in the bedroom community of North
Bend. The house backed up to E.J. Roberts Park, the site of one the platoon’s
battles during the war. “They’re here,” he said as the men began walking up the
pathway to the house.
As he had been asked by the aliens, Calvin had called the
Chief of Naval Operations and told him that he needed to speak to the president
about a matter of national security. The president had called him back later in
the day during a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, thinking that it had
something to do with nuclear weapons. Calvin smiled at the memory; based on his
reaction, it appeared that no one had
ever
asked the president to do
something on an act of faith before, and certainly not this big. ‘Could you
please fly out to Washington, without anyone knowing, and meet me at my
girlfriend’s parent’s house, because there’s a matter of national defense that I
can’t talk about over the phone?’ Had he been anyone else, Calvin probably
wouldn’t have been able to get the aliens their requested meeting with the
president. He was still recognized as ‘America’s Savior’ from the war, though,
and still had a touch of political capital left to use. The president had
agreed to come out secretly, but had also let Calvin know in no uncertain terms
that (1) this had really,
really
, better be important and (2) this trip
used up any favors that Calvin thought might be owed to him for his service
during the war.
Calvin didn’t have a problem with either of these warnings,
as he was sure that a meeting with extraterrestrials would definitely qualify
as important under the first caveat. If anything, by setting up the meeting so
discreetly, he had probably earned even
more
political capital for the
future.
The problem with sneaking the president out to Washington, Calvin
saw, was less a matter of a cover story than it was hiding all of the secret
service guards and the rest of his entourage. The two black Suburbans that had
pulled up to the house were the bare minimum that his secret service detachment
would allow. The group walked quickly to the house, where Tom Sommers, Sara’
father, welcomed them at the door. Tom brought the president to the dining room
table where Calvin and Ryan were waiting for him. The president, Calvin and
Ryan all sat down at the table while the Sommers stood a little further back,
listening to, but not really part of the conversation.
For Calvin, this was the first time that he had met the
president in person. He was unsure of what his reception would be. While Calvin
was
responsible for leading a number of missions that significantly
shortened the war, including recovering nuclear weapons on three separate occasions,
he had also been the source of some discontent among members of the government
after the war. Shortly after the Chinese surrender, he had sold the story of
the platoon to the media for an
enormous
amount of money. Some people
thought it had been done too quickly and that it was disrespectful to the dead.
“It’s good to finally meet the ‘Opportunist of Seattle,’”
said the president to Calvin in a voice that might have been called ‘stern.’
Apparently, the president was part of the group that thought selling his story
to the media wasn’t cool, Calvin thought. Oh well.
“Well, sir, I look at it as resourceful, not opportunistic,”
Calvin replied without remorse. “I’m just trying to take care of the families
of my men who got killed defending their country.”
“As the president, I am entirely opposed to what you are
doing, as it sets a bad precedent for future conflicts,” the president said
gravely. Then he laughed and winked at Calvin. “As Bill Jacobs, I think what
you’re doing for those families is wonderful, and I’m glad you’re building a
memorial, too. It would have taken decades for Congress to agree on the
appropriate monument.” Calvin had used part of the money to set up a memorial
and national cemetery next to where the nuclear weapons had been stored. The
monument was to be placed in the field where 4,000 infantrymen had fought an
armored column, armed with nothing but the rifles they purchased from local
sporting goods stores. Although they had delayed the Chinese long enough for
Calvin’s platoon to get there with the firepower needed to stop them, over half
of them had given their lives in the battle, and another quarter had been
wounded. Calvin had watched them continue to attack in spite of their
gut-wrenching losses, and their sacrifice had made a tremendous impact on him.
He would have spent every dime he had to his name to see their sacrifice
adequately remembered. It was even better, though, to have the media pay for
it.
The president looked over to where Ryan was sitting. “And as
for you, Master Chief O’Leary, what do you have to say for yourself? No one
hangs up on the President of the United States!” Ryan had hung up on him, not
once, but three times when the president had called to ask for Ryan’s help in
finding the stolen nuclear warheads. Jacobs had
not
been amused.
Ryan sprang to his feet, assumed a position of attention,
and called out in his best drill sergeant voice, “Sir! Master Chief O’Leary is
happy to be back in the navy and proud to have you as his commander-in-chief,
sir!”
He said it with so much apparent sincerity that the
president almost believed him, even though he knew Master Chief wasn’t a fan of
authority. He decided to give him a break. Smiling again, he said, “At ease,
Master Chief. Thanks for all of your help, even if you are a frustrating son of
a bit…son of a gun,” he finished, flushing a little and looking at Mrs.
Sommers.
Mrs. Sommers laughed and said, “Thank you, Mr. President,
but I’ve heard it before.” She looked at Mr. Sommers, who had the decency to
blush when called out in front of the president. Everyone laughed at that, even
Mr. Sommers, and the tension eased a little.
“OK,” the president said, looking back to Calvin, “so now
that we’ve got all of that out of the way, what is so damn important that I had
to come all the way here, by myself, in secret?”
Calvin looked around the room. Although the president had
come alone as asked, without any of his staff, ‘alone’ in the case of the
president meant himself…and his six secret service guards. “Umm,” Calvin
started, looking at the secret service men and women, “I need to talk with you
alone…”
The president sighed, “Calvin, this is as alone as I get.
The secret service guards swore an oath to protect me, not to do what I say. I
could tell them to leave, but they wouldn’t leave me alone with people they
don’t know. I have a hard enough time getting them to leave me alone with Mrs.
Jacobs at night.” He chuckled at his own joke. “In any event, they are all
sworn to secrecy, and I trust their oaths. We’re as alone as we’re going to
get.”
“In that case,” said Calvin, getting up from the table and
walking to a bedroom door down the hall a short way from the kitchen, “I have
some people I’d like you to meet.”
The president looked confused as two short men and one short
woman came out of the room with Calvin and walked toward the kitchen. The
secret service detail, conditioned to observe, noticed their differences first
and stiffened, hands moving unintentionally towards their weapons. Seeing them
tense, the president looked again. Even though they looked almost human, they
were shorter than normal, barely coming up to Calvin’s chest, and their heads
were far bigger. When he saw that all three of them had six fingers, he
understood.
“At ease,” he said to the secret service guards, figuring
out who the newcomers were in a flash of intuition. “If these folks meant me
any harm, I don’t think they’d have asked me here to talk.” He stood up and
bowed. “Welcome! On behalf of the United States, I would like to welcome you to
our planet. I am Bill Jacobs, the president of the United States.” He paused.
“But of course, I’m sure you already knew that.”
One of the two alien males stepped forward. “Greetings, Mr.
President. I am Arges, and these are my friends Brontes (he nodded to the
female, who bowed) and Steropes (who also bowed.) You are correct; we are the
Psiclopes and we are from another planet. We are not the ‘Cyclopes’ as in the
one-eyed monster, but ‘Psiclopes,’ as in ‘sees with the mind.’” Calvin had told
him to explain it so that the president didn’t get confused, like Calvin had
the first time he heard the name. Arges continued, “Thank you very much for
coming here today. We would prefer that news of our presence did not get out to
the rest of the world at the moment. It is unfortunate that we had to reveal
ourselves to you this way, but we need your help.”
“I’m sure that we will do everything we can for you,” said
the president, figuring it was never a bad thing to have an advanced
civilization owe you a favor. “What do you need?”
Arges looked at Steropes, who answered. “The communications link
between our home world and Earth has been severed, which means one of two
things. Either one of the relays broke, which is unlikely, or another race
found one of them and destroyed it.”
“Does that happen often?” asked the president.
“No,” replied Steropes, “it does not. There is, however, a
race called the Drakuls which loves finding them, because then they know there
is an inhabited planet nearby. Long ago, we moved the relays so that they weren’t
near the stargates, but if the Drakuls found one, they will not stop until they
find the associated civilization. We need to go and find out which of these
things happened.”
“Who or what are Drakuls?” asked the president.
Steropes replied, “The Drakuls look like giant carnivorous
frogs that are almost ten feet tall. They are the closest thing to vampires that
the universe has ever seen. They like their meat raw when they eat it, still
alive if possible, and find it the greatest delicacy of all to drink the blood
of their prey prior to consuming it. They are brutal and vicious, and their
eating habits alone ensure that no race will willingly be captured by them.
Despite the differences in biology and anatomy throughout the galaxy, there
aren’t many races that they cannot consume.”
“They sound awful,” exclaimed Sara, unable to restrain
herself. “How did a race like that get into space?”
Arges answered, a sad look on his face. “We used to keep
outposts on all of the inhabited planets, including the Drakul home world. The Drakuls
found our outpost there. It is fortunate for us that the four Psiclopes there
were xenobiologists, so there was not much that they could tell them. What they
did know, you can be sure the Drakuls found out. Between their brutal
interrogation techniques and their propensity to eat their victims alive, the captured
Psiclopes would have told them everything.”
Steropes continued, “Unfortunately, the frogs are also
expert copycats. Like the Chinese of this world, they take apart everything
that they capture. They find out what makes it tick and then reverse engineer
it so that they have the technology, too. The Chinese on this planet are so
good at it that the Russians stopped selling them new military hardware because
they know the Chinese will only buy one shipment to reverse engineer it. Then they’ll
produce their own copies, which are usually better made and cheaper, too. The
Drakuls are just like that, only better...far better. They don’t have many new
ideas of their own, but they are great at using other races’ equipment. The
Drakuls captured one of our scout ships, along with the anthropology team, and
they used it to take over the supply ship when it came. From there, the galaxy
was within their reach.”
With a puzzled look on her face, Sara quietly left the room.
The president watched her go and then said, “So let me see if I’ve got this
straight.” He ticked off the points with his fingers. “There are many races in
the galaxy, at least one of which is really bad. That particular race got the
ability to get off its planet and is now roaming the galaxy, eating all of the other
races they can find. You used to have a communications link that led back to
your planet, but it either stopped functioning or has been destroyed, and you’re
worried that the really bad race destroyed it.” He frowned. “And I think what
you’re
really
worried about, which you haven’t said yet, is that you
think the Drakuls, or the frogs as you called them, are coming here.”
“Unfortunately, your deduction is accurate,” said Arges
nodding his head. He looked at Steropes, who continued the story. “If they come
here, this will not be the first time that your race has battled the Drakuls. A
derelict spacecraft found its way to the planet once before while we were asleep.
In less than a year’s time, they had conquered all of your civilization. When
we awoke to watch over you again, we found that you had been enslaved and were
slowly being exterminated as a race. We helped you defeat them, although they
nearly caused the end of your world.”
“They took over the world in one year?” asked Ryan. “How
many of them were there?”
“There were ten of them,” said Brontes, joining the
conversation. “At the time, you called them Titans.” Arges looked annoyed with
her interjection.
“I thought the Titans were myths?” asked Calvin.
“No,” said Steropes, “they were ten-foot tall frogs, with hollow
incisor teeth that could drain a body of blood in less than a minute. They are
the original vampires of legend. In fact, most of what you think of as ‘monsters’
are actual races that exist in the galaxy. Vampires, werewolves, even the
gorgon that Perseus fought…all of them are creatures that inhabit this galaxy.
We’ve had to abandon our home planet on several occasions, a couple of which were
due to potential invasions by the Drakuls. There are good reasons for the
rumors and myths that surround these creatures.”
