Exile-A SciFi Adventure

By R.L. Kiser

· In Earth's far distant past an epic battle took place in space thousands of light years away. Facing only annihilation Captain Kendrick turned his interstellar fighter craft to the farthest reaches of the galaxy until he reached a blue marble of a planet and landed on a large island in its northern hemisphere. Earth. 1600s feudal Japan. A 6'5" warrior from an advanced culture in a land populated by 5'8" war-like people.
· Imagine the possibilities!
· He befriends the local Shukido, a Bushido Warrior-Protector, brings innovation to the local ship builder Honashi, master of the village, falls for his beautiful independent daughter Doiyoko, saves and is adopted by a tiger. He helps them to thwart an attack by a neighboring warlord. They in turn help him to defend against his enemies when a patrolling spacecraft discovers his presence, sometimes by using kinetic energy weapons (rocks).
· When challenged by Honashi to a race using his sleek new sailing sloop vs Honashi's own through the dangerous Doro-bai, the treacherous shoreline passage wrecks the ship. He and Doiyoko are forced to overcome their injuries, climb a steep cliff, and strike out overland where they encounter and battle bandits. In the process they save an endearing young woman who charms the elder Honashi when he finally finds and rescues them. But she's not what she seems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.L. Kiser
• Release date: Nov 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781300423911

R.L. Kiser

R.L. Kiser is the author of the Tales of the Crystal trilogy, The Prophecy of Tara (A Mystical Fantasy), the Educated Injun series, and Exile-A SciFi Adventure, which received a 5 star review and made the first cut in the 2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award. (www.rlkiser.com) Born in Idaho, raised in Arizona, grew up in Los Angeles he's a Vietnam Veteran, been a musician, a Hollywood taxi driver, a computer programmer, a single parent, and ran his own Internet marketing business. He holds an associate's degree in computer science. He currently resides in Sparks, Nevada with three computers, three bicycles, a recumbent trike, and an '02 Mercedes SUV (no, that does not stand for Small Ugly Vehicle). He's currently hiding from the ATF, CIA, DEA, DHS, DMV, DOD, DOT, HUD, ICE, IRS, ONI, SPD, and FBI, but the NSA knows where he is.

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E X I L E

A SciFi Adventure

R.L. Kiser

Copyright 2001-2012 R. L. Kiser

Published by KiseSoft unInc.

Smashwords Edition

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, of the author-publisher.

ISBN: 9781300423911

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are strictly from the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

Cover art by Laura Gordon Designs.

CONTENTS

TOP

INTRO

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Click on any Chapter Title to return to the Table of Contents

INTRO

Exile

Twenty five feet into the woods from the clearing where the others were playing tug-o’-war with the mule was a stand of evenly spaced large oak trees. Doiyoko danced around them from one tree to the other fending off blows from the two katana wielding mercenaries, or bandits, whichever they were. Only by blocking a blow and spinning, running to the next tree was she able to keep them from slicing her in half. And they were only toying with her. Definitely professionals. Kendrick raced toward them but the one closest to him heard him coming and dropped to one knee deftly avoiding his clumsy sweep with the katana. As Kendrick rushed by, the blade cleaving only air, he knew he made a mistake.

As the bandit rose he twirled bringing his katana level with Kendrick’s back, arms extending as he spun. Kendrick barely had time to dive forward, his momentum aiding him, but even so the other man’s blade passed within micrometers of his back. Kendrick went down on his face rather than in a roll as he should have, knowing it was another mistake. He rolled immediately to his right over the katana and his bad arm as the other man’s blade stabbed into the ground where he was, the sharp steel missing him by only inches. He tucked his legs up and threw himself over backwards coming up with the katana in both hands held vertically in front of him, a natural defensive posture. And it was that for good reason because his opponent was already swinging his blade at him.

All in a flash of thought Kendrick calmed his mind, concentrated on only one thing, his opponent, remembering all the things he learned from Gogenko and Kenshi, and even Doiyoko. He let those learned instincts take over and his muscles responded automatically. The other blade crashed into his and sent a shockwave up through his injured arm. Had he not taken that split second to set his mind the pain would have been devastating.

Kenshi worked with him so patiently for a long time instructing him in not only the physical moves, but more importantly the mental and spiritual concepts behind his brand of martial arts. A warrior was not just a man with a weapon. He was the weapon, the fine steel in his hands an extension of himself. Whether a long bladed katana, long knives, short blade, stick, rocks, or hands, feet, elbows and body, the man himself was the weapon. There was only one objective, vanquish your opponent. Think of his moves before he does. He was a body of electrical energy, Kenshi called it Ki, and the body was capable of only so many moves. Your opponent would broadcast his thoughts and you could know his moves if only you were attuned to him.

There was no joy, no pain, no try, just do. He instructed him, with Doiyoko’s welcome assistance, in the way energy flows through the body. The ‘power points’ where energy generates within the body and flows out through channels. He was subconsciously doing this to heal his injured arm and other bruises without realizing it. Now his body felt charged, his mind more alert than before.

Even so, there was an inner fear lurking somewhere in his being. Oh, granted, he vanquished his own enemies when they tracked him, the battle up at the mines. But that was different. It was the enemy he knew. Now, in front of him, was a well-trained warrior of a different sort. He knew what Kendrick knew, only better. This was the first time he faced such an opponent face to face in a life and death struggle. It was decidedly different.

In the same flash of thought he identified the fear, tore it from his thoughts, and flung it away. He saw clearly his opponents’ next move and brought his blade, still vertical, to the right and moved slightly to his left. The other blade flashed down only to meet Kendrick’s as he tilted the blade with his wrists down toward the guard hoping to catch the other man by surprise and maybe scoring a hit. It worked. The other man’s blade was thrown down and slightly to Kendrick’s right leaving him to pull his own blade back across the man’s arm above the wrist. The man was wearing wrist and forearm guards but Kendrick’s finely made blade, one of the best in the land, easily cut through the thick leather and bright red blood oozed through the band.

The mercenary, hired by the bandits, wondered who was this lazy, tall stranger in front of him with a katana? Such a weapon, and such a fine one as this, was generally given only to warriors with many years of training and in the service of someone important. A warlord, or ruler of a region, or shukido. Those trained in the ways of Bushido, the Way of the Warrior. He had never seen a man that looked like him before. Especially one so big. Despite his size he moved well, as if he, too, was trained in the ways of Bushido. Maybe that’s why he had the katana. But where could he be from?

He looked clumsy at first, rushing by the way he did with such a clumsy sweep of the blade. And the way he fell on his face. The mercenary wanted to laugh. But his training forbade him from taking an opponent too lightly. And a good thing, too, because the big stranger surprised him. The cut on his wrist was deep enough he could feel it, even through the thick leather band. And the girl! She was no simple village maiden. She handled that long knife and finely made hunting knife like she was born to it. Who were these people? But these were questions for later. He had a foe to vanquish.

CHAPTER 1

Exile

It was peaceful here, not unlike home. Nitrogen 80%, Oxygen 19 point something percent, other inert gases. Blue sky, a few high, drifting clouds. Vivid colors in the trees and grasses. The water of the pond was a placid blue, which told of its depth. With only the slightest hint of concentration one could hear life, small predators in the grasses, smaller victims when caught. Various types of birds in the trees, their cluckings and mating calls, mothers feeding their young, and way up high a bird of prey swooping down on an unsuspecting smaller bird. Only someone with his kind of training and discipline could have observed that from so far away. Which made it all the more strange this highly trained observer didn’t notice himself being observed.

*** *** ***

There was a strange sound, something in the sky, and two loud explosions like an impact in the earth. In the distance Gogenko could see dust flying. Perhaps it was one of the rocks fallen from the heavens, he would investigate. But he found more than a falling rock.

He was tall, this interloper, two meters, and wide at the shoulders, which hinted at a muscular build. His clothing was strange, the trousers a one piece dark blue, almost black, that encircled each leg separately. His skin was white and his eyes were round. He carried no swords, but did have a lethal looking knife in his boot. It looked too heavy for throwing with such a thick handle, and what could be seen of the blade suggested serration with close notches on the top. It would be a good hunting and foraging blade. The stranger seemed aware and alert. It was as though he could hear the creatures of the woods, and even the hawk in pursuit of prey high overhead. He looked up at them, even though they were too high to be seen clearly. He would bear close scrutiny, this stranger.

*** *** ***

The craft was well hidden deep beneath a large mound of dirt between two very large trees at a slight angle from the south end of the pond. Good landmarks, it would not be difficult to find again. Kendrick had most everything portable he needed for survival in his back pack.

Unfortunately his extra side arm blaster pack was not fully recharged in flight and not unusable, so he was down to a three quarter charge. If necessary he’d have to make weapons, a sling, a bow, or maybe purchase weapons once he found indigenous personnel. His keen senses, training, and sharp mind were always his most formidable weapons anyway. With a deep sigh he took one last look at the mound where his craft was buried, hefted the bulging back pack over his shoulder, and started along the path beside the pond toward the distant valley.

*** *** ***

He had a long stride, this stranger, and that would eat up the distance to his cousin’s village. He must get word to the village immediately. Pulling up his darkly colorful silk wrappings the observer hurried back down the hill the way he came toward his modest living quarters on the edge of the small village. Once inside he set aside the two long knives he carried in the sash at his midriff and carefully placed his long sword in its brightly lacquered teak scabbard in its ceremonial holder by the door.

He carefully removed a scrap of parchment a pile and dipped a fine bristled brush into a black ink bottle. Hastily, but with expert precession, he scribbled an informative note in the conceptual symbols of his written form. He took the parchment and rolled it into a tiny scroll. Grabbing a thin silk ribbon he moved with fluid grace outside behind his humble dwelling where he expertly attached the note to a homing pigeon and let loose the messenger bird in the direction of the village down in the valley. He hastily gathered a few traveling items and set off in that direction himself after tasking a small boy to go tell the headman of the village that he would be gone for a day or two.

*** *** ***

Taking deep breaths through his nose and exhaling through his mouth the stranger thought how good the air tasted, how sweet the smells of the countryside, and how good it felt to be out in the open and stretch his legs after the confines of his small interstellar craft. Had it been possible he would have preferred to make the journey in the much larger mother craft, only breaking away as they approached the solar system. There he would have had the run of a ship the size of a small moon, or very nearly. But circumstances didn’t allow it. To preserve their race those that had interstellar craft were dispersed in all directions shortly before the mother craft came under fire. It was hoped the carriers for the attacking craft would be too busy coordinating the attack to trace the escaping smaller ships. However, their computing devices were the fastest and most efficient in the known universe.

So he traveled the several thousand light years in his cramped one-man craft letting his computers guide him with their best guess as to an inhabitable planet in this out-of-the-way sector. Fortunately with intermittent warping, bending the fabric of space with powerful alpha type (atomic level) magnetics the journey took only ten days, most of which was spent at high speed in regular space re-computing the next warp jump. Luckily the computer’s best guess was a good one. Seen from space the third planet from the yellow sun looked like a big blue marble. The most obvious landing for the remaining fuel was a large, elongated island on the right side of a continent in the northern hemisphere. His trajectory was such he had just enough fuel to land there without completely deleting minimal reserves, not enough to explore the rest of the planet. It was as likely a place as any.

The sensors detected life forms of various sorts so there would most likely be game for food. He wouldn’t have to use any of his precious fuel reserves to orbit the planet or enter the atmosphere at a different trajectory. As it turned out this did nicely. Very little fuel was needed for the landing, and a couple of blasts from the ships guns dug a nice deep hole in which to hide it. A little thoughtful landscaping and the mound hiding the craft had a sparse covering of vegetation that would easily spread and cover the entire mound after the first rainfall. In less than half a day with fresh air in his lungs and the static tension in his muscles relieved he was at the edge of a pristine valley overlooking a sparkling river that ran completely around a village. The river ran on to a sheltered cove at the far end of the valley and into an ocean. So there was some sentient species capable of using tools.

The afternoon sun sparkled off the calm sea and twinkled off the river. In only a few of the larger buildings could he see smoke rising from chimneys. One particularly large building near a wharf was a center of activity. Three chimneys belched black smoke, people scurried around, at least he assumed they were people, and they used boxes with large wheels pulled by large, thick bodied animals with horns.

To the left of the village was a set of low hills, and beyond that terraced farm land. All in all it was an idyllic setting, one that looked more than adequate to begin his exile.

*** *** ***

Kenshi heard a flutter and a tiny tinkle of a bell. It was a long time since he received a message from his cousin. They were in the same class at the dojo together where their instructor, Oki Hakido, said, Before you can learn to beat someone up, you must first learn to not get beaten up, and proceeded to begin their instruction in Akido, the defensive martial art. Once you know how your opponent will defend against you, then may you know how to defeat him.

That was so many years ago, yet it seemed like only yesterday. They had since gone through many years of martial arts training, swords, bows, fighting sticks, throwing darts, even stones lying on the ground, and twice helped to defend their province against invaders before being chosen as shukido, policemen, to guard and keep peace in their villages. Here things were so peaceful there was not much to do other than practice their art. Kenshi spent a lot of time decorating his garden and adding onto his polished wood home. The garden and pond with big, fat green frogs and lily pads, water polished stepping stones, and meandering brook was quite a showplace. He hoped to attract the attention of the main village shipbuilder’s second youngest daughter. They knew each other as children and now whenever their eyes met at public functions there was a spark.

But enough of day-dreaming. He would see what his cousin at the mill village had to say. He cooed at the bird to get his attention and was able to easily grab the small scroll. The compact and precisely drawn figures told of a loud noise, a bright light and streak in the sky, which lead his cousin to investigate. There was an oddly dressed stranger headed toward the village. As assistant head shukido for the largest village in this sector Kenshi would should go and see for himself who this stranger was. He grabbed his long sword, placed it over his back, and took long strides toward the path that came down from the hills of his cousin.

*** *** ***

As the big man approached the last downslope leading into the outskirts of the village his thoughts turned to the possibility that maybe the local sentient life form might not be at all like him, a possibility that didn’t previously cross his mind. In all their galactic contacts, which included dozens of worlds from dozens of different solar systems, all but one sentient race were humanoid, most bi-pedal with two arms, two legs, two eyes, albeit in varying configurations. The one race that wasn’t humanoid was aquatic, their world being completely covered by water.

His ocular senses picked up movement at over two kilometers. His bionically enhanced right eye automatically adjusted for distance and enhanced focus. A humanoid type left the path and was climbing the side of a hill. He wore loose fitting garments held in the middle by a sash, which also contained a variety of bladed weapons. On his feet were fitted wooden placks with wooden blocks running laterally. Even though he was climbing a steep slant the individual seemed to do so effortlessly. Every so often he would shade his eyes and scan the path down the hillside. Perhaps he was a lookout. The newly arrived visitor froze where he was until the distant lookout resumed his climb and then effortlessly disappeared into the surrounding foliage.

Fortunately there were trees and heavy grasses through which he could move. He slipped quickly and silently through the trees paralleling the downward trail until the trees thinned. He stealthily slid through the tall grasses barely touching them so that even to the trained observer they wavered only with the breeze. When he was below the spot where he saw the man climbing the hill he carefully crossed the trail to the other side, which had better protection of thick bushes and further on there were trees.

After advancing another quarter kilometer he came to a clearing amidst the trees. Suddenly standing before him as if he appeared from nowhere was the man he saw climbing the hill. He stood a meter and a half tall, wide muscular shoulders, his skin was a tanish yellow and his eyes appeared to be slanted. He stood with his feet apart, arms folded, with an alertness easily recognized by another with the same kind of disciplinary training. The big man stopped, keeping his hands at his side in a non-threatening gesture. The other man bowed from the waist, never taking his eyes from the stranger. Thinking this might be a local custom the big man emulated the gesture, also keeping his eyes on the local man at all times.

The shorter man seemed to relax slightly, but was still ever alert. He pointed to the bulging back pack with a gesture of curiosity. The big man slowly shrugged out of the harness and swung the pack to the ground in front of him. He gestured to the local with his left hand and stepped back two paces. The smaller man advanced and shifted his weapons. There were two blades in polished black cases like the long sword slung over his back. He squatted to examine the pack. He turned it over a time or two, all the while eyeing the large survival knife in the big man’s boot, but never once paying more than a passing glance to the laser pistol at his side.

He grasped the heavy duty zipper handle, the weight of the bag tipping away from him. The zipper slid open with a zzzzt sound and startled the man. He dropped the pack, jumped back a pace, and instantly had his hand ready to draw one of the long knives from his sash. The big man chuckled and immediately clamped his hand over his mouth in a gesture of ‘oops’. Seeing the mirth in his eyes the smaller man relaxed his grip on the small sword and smiled.

The stranger bowed his head, advanced to the pack, opened the zipper halfway so the contents were exposed, and backed away. The local took a few items from the pack, sniffed them, set them aside, looked at a few more, and politely replaced them in the original order. He zipped the bag shut, open, shut a few times, a subtle chuckle coming from him. But all the while he was alert to any movement and his attention was never far from the stranger’s survival knife.

According to what he saw so far this appeared to be a relatively simple culture, not too advanced, yet one in which there was a martial discipline such as the man before him displayed. Within that he was also polite so it was a long established society, not barbaric. Most likely in the feudal stages. Their machine age was many generations away. The shorter, local man smiled and made a gesture of drink with a question mark creasing his face. It was a long hike so naturally the big man nodded yes. He picked up his back pack as the local took him across the small meadow to a swiftly moving stream. The water was clear and looked refreshing, but to be on the safe side he pulled some testing equipment from the back pack and measured the bacterial content. The local man looked at him with curiosity and moved closer to observe his actions. The big man placed some stream water in a tube and consulted a printed chart comparing colors in the water to the chart. He filled a portable cup with cool water and quenched his thirst, the local eyeing the folding cup curiously. There were some bacteria foreign to his system, that was to be expected on a distant planet, but it wasn’t anything his body couldn’t easily adjust to, and the sooner the better. He was going to be here a long time.

As they emerged from a stand of trees into another small clearing, which lead to the village path, their mostly silent passage startled another local dressed and outfitted like the stranger’s host. The startled man leaped into the air with a forward kick that would have caught the average citizen on the chin, but the big man was quite a bit taller than the local average citizen and was also extremely well trained in self-defense disciplines. He rolled beneath the extended leg and flying body so the startled local flew harmlessly by, landed in a roll, and came up brandishing his long sword.

Kenshi, the startled local from the village, expertly drew his long sword from the polished black teak scabbard on his back while flying through the air in a roll and was holding it in both hands standing between the other two men, looking rapidly from one to the other. Recognition crossed his face so he stopped, the two locals smiled at one another, and all three broke out in tension relieving laughter. Kenshi bowed to his cousin and said, Dozo... and pointed to the newcomer. In a clipped, sing-song language he told his cousin, Gogenko, he received the message and assumed this was the stranger that came from the big light in the sky.

Gogenko told him the stranger had many strange things in the bag he carried, and the bag could open and reseal itself. Kenshi seemed a bit skeptical about the bag, he always was more suspicious and less quick to accept things than his cousin, but despite his misgivings, he turned to the newcomer, bowed, slapped his chest and announced his name, Ken-shi. Gogenko, his original host, did the same.

In a gesture of diplomacy the stranger did likewise, pronouncing his name slowly K-e-n-d-r-i-c-k, and pronounced it again, Kendrick. The two locals gave short bows and pronounced the name slowly a couple of times. They smiled, each in turn clasped his right arm in a gesture of friendship and acceptance. He found these people to be warm and inviting. A fast friendship was developing.

CHAPTER 2

Exile

Kenshi spoke a few rapid, guttural phrases and led the way toward the village. His place was on the outskirts so they didn’t enter the village proper, but instead passed a few colorfully built but fragile looking houses with extensive gardens, all of which were set back quite a ways from the path. The path itself told a story. It was wide, much wider than repeated foot traffic would make it. There were obviously wheeled wagons or carts traveling this path in the past. However, there was enough time elapsed that subsequent rain and mud filled in the ruts. Each track of the path was relatively smooth with only short grass growing between them.

Shortly they came to a well tended acre spread. The front was surrounded by a two rail wooden fence lined with a variety of colorful wild flowers. The walkway to the house was of fitted stone slabs, the surrounding area was a short, sturdy grass. Kenshi led them up the path to the well-polished wooden porch where he kicked off his shoes, as did his cousin, gave a slight bow as he slid open the front door and said, Dozo...

The stranger knelt, unfastened his boots, much to the fascination of his hosts. They had never seen this sticking cloth. He dropped the back pack next to his shoes and entered the house. Once inside his opinion of these people elevated itself a notch. He was suitably impressed. Everything was clean, neat, orderly, and uncluttered. The walls seemed to be made of paper and sticks, he was to experience the reason for that shortly, and yet there was an open round fire place central to the large room.

The fire place was of stone surrounded by two feet high polished stone slabs, all perfectly fitted together to form a smooth circle around the fireplace for sitting. There was a conical flue ten feet above that for exhaust. On the other side of the fireplace was a large window displaying a polished wooden deck and beyond that a small brook coming from the back of the property over which there was an arched wooden bridge. The brook led into a pond which boasted large, water polished stepping stones, huge water lilies, and fat green frogs. There would not likely be too many flying pests around this house. The exquisite garden extended back beyond his current range of vision, but he was sure it was all just as finely sculpted.

There came a deep rumbling from the ground, both a feeling and a sub-bass sound that hurt the ears. The entire house shook. There was a rolling to the land in two waves. It stopped as quickly as it started. The pond outside sloshed water from side to side, the water lilies riding to the full height of a wave and sliding back down. Frogs were jumping everywhere. Both of his hosts divested themselves of their weapons and were standing in a doorway to the right. The frame of the house itself was a lot more sturdy than it first seemed, and if this sort of thing occurred often enough the stick and paper walls would be easy enough to replace. He was later to learn that the thin paper walls had another purpose. It was very difficult for an enemy to hide his profile and sound traveled easily through paper walls. He would soon discover their usefulness.

Once things settled down Gogenko handed him his boots and led him outside where he waited patiently for him to put them on. He took him over the arched bridge down a stone pathway toward the rear of the property. Shortly the stone path gave way to dirt, the tended garden to wild bushes. They entered a copse of closely spaced trees, a natural defense. There was hardly space between them for the width of a man. The trees weren’t large, not more than eight or ten inches in diameter, but they were very sturdy and there were a lot of them. Gogenko led them through this maze of trees expertly for thirty yards until they emerged on the other side at the edge of a small cliff. He led them carefully across a short ledge, up a steep climb to a small plateau overlooking the ocean behind them, the village below, and way in the distance a smoldering mountain. Kenshi came up silently beside them. He handed Kendrick a telescope made of brass and pointed to the smoking mountain.

The telescope was of surprisingly good quality. He could see the smoking mountain, the volcano, showed evidence of a recent eruption. The magma slag was mostly solid but still smouldering. The last eruption occurred within the past two