A Leap of Fate: The Caronian Conflict

By G.L. Fontenot

The Caronian Conflict is the second of the Leap of Fate series, following Ron Allison and Cache Kuar into even more harrowing adventures against the Kreete Triad.
This episode finds our two heroes separated due to conflicting time constraints, and each of them is forced to manage on their own to make contact with allies on the planet of Caron.
Unlike Cache’s instantaneous transportation through the Starflex, Ron begins his journey to his alter ego’s homeworld through deep space in the advanced fighter spacecraft The Darlile. In this vast nothingness, he has to conquer new, split-second challenges to even reach the target planet alive. Once there, he must descend ominous and treacherous mountain peaks through horrific, ultrahigh-altitude weather to reach the tropical confines of the Yetsole Valley. At last in a breathable environment, he sets out overland with hopes to make contact among a group of rebel fighters who are secretly trying to find a way to overthrow the Kreete’s rule.
This is Ron’s first attempt at covert infiltration and he has a difficult time blending in with the natives. He stumbles into a less than low profile because of his inherent nature of defending the helpless, and creates lifelong friends while doggedly pursuing after Cache.
He has no way of communicating with her because of the Kreete’s surveillance network that continuously scans the planet for unauthorized use of electronic equipment, so their reunion is decidedly less than guaranteed, and that fact eats at Ron as time goes by.
Ron’s plan is simple; follow her mission instructions to the rendezvous, but he finds execution of it to be far more hazardous and complicated. He ends up traveling the countryside and battling his way into and out of several difficult situations against beasts, men, and Kreete. Finally he reaches his goal, only to be left with his greatest test so far.
The finale is a sharp, gut-wrenching scene that will leave you drooling for more!

• Language: English
• Publisher: G.L. Fontenot
• Release date: Feb 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301420919

G.L. Fontenot

I am a middle-aged man, born and raised in Louisiana and now living in Georgia. Married with two children, my wife and I have been together for 30 years. I've been writing for fun for the past 15 years and got serious about it in the last six. I am extremely excited about Smashwords. They have finally given me the avenue to reach a broad audience, and to see if anyone might find my work of some value. My niece did the artwork for the book cover of "A Song for Daddy". That is a work of fiction I wrote to show the world how far a father might go to save the life of his child. I also have a Science Fiction series titled "A Leap of Fate", which is where my imagination truly lies. Please let me thank you all for the phenomenal support you have shown me for each of my books! I appreciate your interest so very much. If you have any comments or questions, please email me at [e-mail]...or [e-mail]

Book preview

Prologue: part one

The First Step

Two beautiful, violet eyes stare out at nothing…looking towards a timer, but seeing only an incoherent, unfocused blur. Too many thoughts race along her synaptic pathways to allow a single, clear signal…and waves of intense emotion bathe it all into a slurry of unintelligible gibberish.

Eighteen thousand feet above the semi-tropical base of a rugged, forest covered mountain range that subdivides the most prominent continent of the planet Rauld, a waiting game is underway deep within the bedrock. Although a lofty location when compared with the level of the nearest ocean, fifteen hundred hoz (Raulden miles) to the east, it is by far not the uppermost floor of the immense, underground complex of Gammone, the single remaining inhabited city of that world. That ultimate title is resigned to the atmospheric monitoring station, and it lies almost two thousand feet above…and that is still over seven thousand feet beneath the icy, snow-crested summit of the outside world.

One might expect a thin, deadly atmosphere in such a locale, but within the confines of the pressurized living spaces of this phenomenal underground city, such conditions on the thousands of differing floors are all kept absolutely identical.

In a large, well lit room, lined at every turn with some form of amazing, high-technology instrumentation, a petite woman stands at arm’s reach from a point marked out on the floor. This particular space has been meticulously carved out of the solid rock of the planet’s mantle over nine hundred cycles (Raulden years) in the past, and was once the lavish living quarters of an ancient prominent leader. Every inch of the stone walls is decorated by its artisan’s tools, creating soothing, flowing patterns that draw the eye and intrigue the soul. It would be a marvel of art and engineering on most any planet…but here it is just the norm and is rarely given any thought.

The cavernous laboratory dwarfs the woman’s feminine figure and is so eerily quiet that a depressing wave of isolation creeps across her mind. Such thought however is quickly cast aside…quelled offhandedly by her steadfast determination because her resolve will not be deterred.

Her mind’s attention sharpens suddenly, sweeping all the distractions away in a blink…leaving only clear, productive reason in the forefront. Her gaze locks forward while her pulse steadily quickens, and the rising rush of adrenaline in her bloodstream forces a slight, nervous tremble to surge through her.

She impatiently checks a timing device on the wall in front of her and her heart rate climbs still further. That chronograph will, in a few short moments, activate an incredible transportation phenomenon of her own design, bridging the vast distance between her world and her target, a harsh and undeveloped planet called Caron.

The huge room’s temperature, relative humidity, and pressure are always perfectly comfortable and never deviate more than a single percent from the designated setting, they each being recorded at hundreds of points by an exceptionally sophisticated computer. Nonetheless, the woman is garbed in heavy winter gear and carries sophisticated, high altitude breathing equipment.

She has deeply tanned skin, the like which would rival the most devout Hawaiian surfer, totally hidden in her attire’s capsule of overlapping layers of thermal insulation. Her coif of fine, straight, black hair which hangs down to her waist lies tucked away under her fur-lined hood making her bright lavender eyes even more unique and sensuously appealing.

This darkened persona is almost exactly opposite of her normal appearance, but she has spent many billots (Raulden hours) planning how best to proceed on her quest. Her desire to blend with the foreign area’s populace is essential, and she feels well prepared for her perilous mission of subterfuge and infiltration.

Her natural state…a blonde-haired, fair-skinned Raulden female…would certainly stand out vividly, and that fact would undoubtedly result in her capture and ultimately her death, in the sun-drenched, tropical cities of Caron…her eventual destination.

While the sound of her heart pounds in her ears, the enormity of the plan weighs heavily on her thoughts, as does the danger. She knows quite well that it will no doubt be a huge accomplishment just to survive the contrasting elements of her journey, and she steels herself toward that task. She will soon be leaving the comfort and protection of her placid, hazard-free home, deep inside the fortress complex of Gammone, for an unforgiving, hazard-filled ice cavern with scant accommodations and almost no atmosphere to breathe. And that’s merely the first step in a list of trials she must overcome!

The gravity on Caron will be substantially greater than that of her home planet, and it concerns her deeply. Even though she has spent the last santari (Raulden month) training her body to adjust to it, she knows the change will not be easy on her. Reality has a way of illuminating every fault of a plan in glaring fashion, no matter how careful the attention to detail, so she wills herself to accept that fact.

From that bleak cavern her trek will start by sending her through the treacherous, snow-covered, windswept peaks of the most rugged mountain range of the Caronian landscape…nearly twice the height of her own beloved mountain. Again, she has trained for those conditions in Rauld’s advanced simulation facility, but any true experience in the real world is sadly lacking.

Such a remote and perilous route is necessary because it is the only place she is convinced her arrival will be neither perceived nor expected by those she must avoid at all costs. Her confidence is bolstered fervently because no native of the planet could ever set foot within three dactrais (Raulden days) travel of where she is going. The temperature might be survivable but the thin air of the location would easily kill anyone without some form of assisted oxygen supply…a product that is totally foreign to the technologically primitive population. That fact makes surveillance by the enemy’s orbiting satellites unnecessary, and thus gives her a great measure of security…for the time being.

She tries to dismiss her fears of the coming hardships, knowing perfectly well that once there, in those peaks, she will have to travel a great distance on foot through that cold, pitiless, and frozen wilderness to reach the lower country. And if she can survive that first leg to the steamy confines of the forest, she will still have to negotiate another week’s hike to civilization through steep, rocky, rugged, mountains.

That stretch of fifty-to-sixty hoz will be filled with large carnivorous beasts too, as well as crawling, flying, and slithering creatures at every turn…and such knowledge makes her body quake with trepidation. Similar animals are all long extinct from her pristine home-world, and her reaction to them is another unknown area of her plans.

Once past those grueling trials, she will have to find a way to interact with countless native inhabitants…some undoubtedly friendly, but many not…in order to reach her final objective.

This heroic path she has chosen will inevitably lead her to a tenuous meeting with a group of wary, battle-hardened, revolutionary freedom fighters on the alien planet, and that gathering will no doubt hold its own dangers too. Those men have seen more than their share of subversion, betrayal and death, and likely will not be the trusting sort.

The woman’s thoughts drift briefly through the reason she is about to risk her life.

This world, Caron, is besieged by a vicious, sadistic, cutthroat species of warrior beings that have the indigenous peoples locked in a brutal balance of master and servant. They demand payments from every producing field…from farm-grown foods and drinks to transport beasts and raw materials for weapons and even ships.

Many Caronians are forced to become obedient slaves for manual labors such as constructing roads, bridges, and great stone structures, as well as mining ores for their masters’ many requirements. They are also used as playthings for entertaining the rulers in a wide variety of ways that range from combat sports, to human prey, to sexual servitude, and even procreation.

The Caronians themselves are physically powerful individuals due simply to the heavy gravity environment of their planet and their present state of evolution that demands a hardiness of very high standards merely to survive. This durability attracts the attention of the Lords even more because ruling the strong is far more glorious than ruling a weaker people.

The Caronians are also extremely intelligent and adaptive, and she hopes a coup over their rulers might spark the beginning of an expulsion of these creatures from this planet, and one day all the worlds they imperil.

The woman tried before, and is once again attempting to assist the native residents in freeing themselves from the bloody tyranny of their rulers, but it will be…as it already has been…a very risky undertaking.

She shivers again as she recalls the last group of fighters she tried to aid, and how they died so violently after they were horribly mutilated and tortured in the attempt to find out who was providing them with support…her. Her personal identity remained secret on that occasion, but her transmission had been traced and her location identified.

Once this enemy found out about the alliance, the self-imposed masters of all lesser beings didn’t care how many Caronians they had to dispose of as long as they captured the woman…or more precisely, her technology. They were keenly aware of what she was worth. In fact, the transporter she was now about to use, by itself, would be invaluable to them. It would mean they could expand their realm infinitely more quickly…and they could only dream of what other devices they might rend from her and her people.

Presently, less than half a planetary cycle has passed since those malevolent beings sent a fleet of their best warships to her world, Rauld, in a direct attempt to assimilate the advancements of her and her brethren. But that armada was not successful; and in fact, it had been entirely crushed. Those iniquitous leaders were then forced to find another way of achieving their objective…but fortunately for her, they knew nothing of her agenda, her new contacts, or her timetable. They were left waiting for the next opportunity for her capture to present itself.

She watches the timer more closely now, knowing she has only a brief moment in which to pass through the portal before it shuts down automatically, as she preprogrammed it to do. She instated that directive to insure no one from the other side could discover the aperture and force their way into her domain, thereby gaining this crucial piece of engineering. The enemy would have unlimited, instant access to thousands of worlds, should she allow this to happen, and she would rather die a ghastly death at their hands than let them attain it.

As she stands there, she very much wishes she were not going alone on this journey. She is anxious, a bit doubtful, and even frightened at taking this bold step on her own, but her would-be partner is in no condition to accompany her at this time. He is off on a personal quest of his own, trying to come to grips with a tremendous loss in his life still too fresh in his thoughts for him to put aside.

She desperately wanted to wait for him to return, but matters on Caron were escalating faster than she anticipated, and further delays could only complicate the situation. His companionship and protection would have been very comforting, and would have significantly improved her odds of success, but her window of opportunity is open now, and she is compelled to take it.

She carefully affixes the air supply mask to her face and checks the seal. It is absolute. She is now completely insulated from the environment around her and her stomach tightens. She feels her pulse race as the last moments flash by…and then the portal begins to form.

It is programmed to open just large enough to allow her to fit through, conserving as much energy as possible and providing as small a signature as necessary to any foreign surveillance technician, making it harder for the enemy to detect.

The ‘portal’ isn’t what one might commonly think of since it is not a solid device such as a door, or a hatch. It’s more like an open window with no frame whatsoever. Instead of an actual casement, its edges are defined with the simple contrast of visual, and physical, surroundings. It’s literally a direct opening to another locality. In this case, the destination is a point trillions of hoz across space; the outer caverns of a lofty series of natural tunnels that lead to her laboratory in the heat-deprived, high-altitude landscape of Caron’s Taerdrasseg Mountains. It is also a barrier in the fact that physical things like the difference in ambient pressures, wind, and temperature do not cross, even though a falling leaf can. It is both a miracle and a paradox.

Finally the time is here. The Kuar Starflex Portal flashes into existence as quietly as a sunrise, and Cache Kuar peers into the other realm, her heart racing wildly. The dimly lit cave is now just a short step away, so she takes a quick breath and strides forward.

The silent, invisible surface of the portal envelopes her and then winks out as if it had never been.

The room is now empty of human life, with everything running on automatic, or controlled by Cnauts (cybernetic nimble autonomous utility technicians), expecting her next contact at a preset interval.

The new countdown clock immediately begins its task, slowly measuring the passage of time that is neither hurried nor delayed…a constant, precise duty. The lights blink out a few litas (Raulden seconds) later and the machines switch over to standby.

They wait with unlimited patience.

Prologue: part two

Decisions

At that exact moment, three thousand hoz away from the now empty laboratory, a large, deeply tanned man with shaggy raven hair stands and looks out as well, contemplating the next step he is about to take.

In contrast to his partner’s position of security, he stands at the very edge of insanity; a massive rock formation jutting a hundred feet out from the surrounding cliffs like part of a natural bridge that was never completed.

He is barefoot and nearly naked, with only a small pair of formfitting trunks covering his privates, and his long, broad-shouldered body glistens with sweat while his heart pounds with anticipation. That upper body is adorned with a thick layer of work-hardened muscle, every ripple and bulge clearly defined as if he were carved from a massive block of living bronze. He is the personification of the epitome of human male development…and he has used that body to its fullest in the past, as well as the present.

Through his natural sunshades of Caronian origin he slowly scans the sky above him and finds it as clear and deep blue…almost indigo…as any he has ever seen. The stiff breeze in his face is a floral-scented wonder, laced with the sweet smell of various wild flowers from many hoz away.

Eight hundred feet below him is a large lake, calm and soothing, reflecting his entire view like a gigantic mirror, and he cannot suppress a smile. Mountains with heavy snows cresting them give the impression of whipped cream on a sundae as they envelop the lofty elevation of the lake on all sides. The man sweeps his gaze back and forth, imagining he has stepped into a life-sized postcard, so perfectly peaceful and magnificent the sight is.

He stands there thinking about how bizarre and conflicting the scene would look to anyone watching if they were to consider his persona, the man he has become, situated in this particular place, at this particular time.

He has spent many dactrais searching out this location where there is no other person for as far as he can see, and he enjoys the serenity and totality of the seclusion immensely. Yet he comes from a planet which now has not a single living soul left on its entire surface, and that fact leaves his heart nearly shattered at its own stark isolation.

This man is encircled in an unbelievable Eden of absolute harmony and breathtaking natural beauty, something which inspires him and leaves him in awe. Yet his place of birth is now the vilest, most toxic world he’s ever heard of, or read about, or even imagined.

Nearly a thousand cycles of patience and perseverance have gone into rebuilding and nurturing the land where he stands. Yet the land where he was raised to manhood was completely destroyed in less than a week.

Why were his wife and family, and everyone he’d ever known, obliterated from the universe? Why was he spared? Why is he here? What is he to do now?

He has spent the past several torjournes (Raulden weeks) alone, grieving and searching for answers to those questions. He set out into this wilderness hoping the quiet, tranquil state of the natural wonders around him might aid in his search to find those answers…the direction…the guidance he seeks. But now, even the thought of that goal makes him laugh at himself, as he has finally concluded that his search was as ironic as the location in which he hoped to find it.

He is no longer the simple family man who once worked to support his wife…who enjoyed relaxing vacations and planned to raise a family of his own. Now, a normal job, relaxation, and a trouble-free existence are too boring for him to even consider. He is a living, breathing weapon of extremely lethal capabilities…one which craves action, danger, and challenge to make him feel alive.

He now understands why he has recently felt driven to take bigger risks; leaping across deep gorges, climbing ever-steeper slopes, and putting his life on the edge of reasonable conduct at every turn. It is now his nature!

He constantly drills himself in the use of weapons of varying sorts and will settle for nothing less than absolute perfection. He is a full-blown adrenaline junky who has finally reached this lofty setting for the ultimate rush.

Before the rising of Metash, the slightly larger of the two stars which illuminate Rauld in brilliant sunlight, he stripped down to his current attire. Then, leaving nearly everything he had at the base of the cliff, he began his ascent.

It was a treacherous climb, straight up, and he had no rope or safety gear of any kind. Several times during the arduous ordeal he made some slight mistake, or the rock had given way under his substantial weight, and he found himself dangling precariously from one hand. Those moments showed his truest self, as growling was the only noise to escape his lips…not the gasping, fright-filled squeal of a common man on the verge of death. Anger and resolve were what drove him to cling to the face of that cliff. He simply would not be denied!

It was a foolhardy venture for any sane man, for even with the lighter gravity of this world, he knew the fall would surely have killed him, but death was not what he feared.

When Dersa, Metash’s little sister star, fully arose more than half a dactrai later, he had reached his goal; the large rock formation on which he now stands.

By shear strength, determination, and willpower, is he now perched at this precariously poignant site, reflecting upon himself. The one thing that long, harrowing climb accomplished was to at last force him to come to grips with his new reality, and while he stands there he makes some concrete, definite decisions.

He will not be swallowed up with his grief, living each day without hope, without purpose, without love. He’d pulled, heaved, and clawed his way up that precipice, proving to himself that as long as conscious thought survived in his brain, he would fight to sustain his life with every ounce of strength his beating heart would allow.

He will move forward!

With great concentration, he stretches out his hands in front of his broad chest and forms a mental target in the sky. Once that is locked, his hands move smoothly to the side, clearing the way of the spectacular sight before him. Then, mimicking the Olympic divers he’d watched so many times on television, he takes a long, deep breath to calm his nerves. Not a quiver sweeps through him. No doubts cloud his thoughts…no fear.

Suddenly his long legs fold, and his arms snap down and then up in a flash. He leaps out as far as he can, extending his form as if reaching for a bar which is just beyond his fingertips. More than fifty feet out into the oncoming breeze his body tilts slowly downward as gravity takes an ever-increasing hold on the situation.

The feeling is that of utter exhilaration…free-fall!

The adrenaline rush floods in and his mind is suddenly sent speeding as fast as his body.

Why did my planet die? he asks himself. They could not, or would not deal with their own petty problems, he answers.

His body accelerates.

Why have I been spared? My life has been given a new purpose.

His body accelerates.

Why am I here, on this planet? To fulfill this new purpose.

His body accelerates.

What am I to do? Anything and everything I can, toward that end.

He reaches terminal velocity.

He tucks his head between his thick biceps as the water approaches with blinding rapidity, and then he strikes its surface like a bullet.

Down into the depths of the lake he shoots…deeper and deeper he plunges. The water on this globe isn’t dense enough to support his mass with sufficient buoyancy to swim, that much is clear. But also, it doesn’t produce the surface tension that would normally shatter every bone in his body at the speed he entered it.

His dense frame knifes toward the bottom of the lake like he’s a ship’s anchor cut from its chain and he arches his back powerfully to counteract his descent as much as he can. He knows of course that if he cannot quell his speed, he will likely not survive the impact with the rocky lakebed, and now fights as hard to avoid it as he fought to climb the cliff.

Finally, he slows himself adequately and manages to pivot his body around to have his feet downward. He sinks, as he knew he would, but when he does contact the bottom it’s at a nominal rate and he remains uninjured. By then his heart is racing madly from the temperature of the chilly environs and the adrenaline pulsing through him, but he is able to control himself enough to take a moment and look around.

He marvels at the geologic beauty that formed the lake’s floor, and at how clear the water is. He finds it absolutely remarkable and wishes he would have been able to see some of the aquatic life that once dwelled there.

The pressure at the depth he reached isn’t painful to his system, but nonetheless it reminds him he is an air-breathing mammal and so he opens his mouth and retrieves a compact apparatus he’d tucked away there earlier. He quickly affixes it to his left wrist and then depresses a small section of the watch-sized device, which activates it. In a split-second, a large bladder inflates with compressed gas and sends him streaking for the surface far above.

He finds this ride almost as exciting as the fall, but is greatly relieved when he’s able to fill his lungs once again with the warm fragrant air of the mountains.

He then uses the inflated device to keep him afloat as he kicks toward the shoreline and, even though his progress is slow, revels in his experience. After a time, he steps out of the water and into the intense heat of the Raulden daytime, but is significantly refreshed from the swim, if you could call it that.

He has a newfound purpose! His questions are now moot, his doubts are behind him, and his focus is set. He will be heading back to Gammone!

Chapter One

Point Me the Way

Ron Allison, once a run-of-the-mill working man from the state of Louisiana, on the planet Earth, shook himself off like an animal would. He then let the remaining water air-dry from his body as he made his way calmly to his belongings.

Following a short dinner from his ration tubes, he got dressed, strapped on his various weapons, and pointed himself in the direction of his hover-car. He’d parked it on the other side of the eastern ridge; a peak which now, even as tall as it stood, was difficult to see.

Ron suddenly found himself eager to return to the mountain fortress he’d left nearly two santaris ago. There was a lovely young woman waiting for him there…waiting to see if he was going to join her in a tremendous, daunting, almost insane undertaking, and he was eager to give her his response.

She was of a mind to liberate an entire planet which was being governed and exploited by a race of merciless, despicable creatures calling themselves, the Kreete. They had control of hundreds of worlds, most of which were inhabited by less advanced species who possessed no way to protect themselves from the technologically superior Kreete Triad. The Triad was the governing entity spanning half the galaxy…and so those hapless souls under their rule were doomed to either be slaughtered by them or become slaves of their mighty alien empire.

Cache Kuar…the woman who had requested Ron’s help…had tried to explain her plans to him on several occasions over the last few santaris before he left Gammone, her home. But he was too distracted to listen, too angry and confused and disgruntled, and so she had allowed him his space, even encouraged his current sabbatical.

Now, a santari and a half later, he was ready to start a new chapter in his life. It would be full of danger as well as adventure, and he was convinced his destiny lay with her and her plans.

A miraculous occurrence had created the being he now was. An unfathomably complex set of coincidental factors had somehow fallen into place in a singular instant of time…entwining two beings who previously existed thousands of parsecs apart.

Was it simply blind chance, the outcome of his personal, individual fate, or some divine intervention…he would never truly know which…and it really didn’t matter. It joined…no, actually it compressed his former self…a tall, slim man from the class 6.5 planet of Earth…with that of a large, fearsome warrior named Kaskle Dangarth, from the heavy world of Caron, a class 8.6 planet. Now he was both, and neither.

After much introspective deliberation over the long days of his solitude, he was absolutely certain this transformation had a definitive purpose. This change to his person, as well as the destruction of his past had come about for a specific reason. That reason now lay far to the west of his current position, in the fantastic underground facility of Gammone, the solitary living city on the entire world of Rauld.

His mind wandered as he ran through the cool forest, oblivious of all he passed, remembering his fondness for Cache’s company and her fortitude toward her goals. They made a marvelous duo in their last pairing…a treacherous and exhausting struggle that eventually won out over tremendous adversity, danger, and hardship…and he was confident they would do so again.

She was brilliant, tough, and resourceful, and her people had technology which could overcome even that of the seemingly omnipotent Triad. Ron possessed a keen knack for survival, the killer instinct, and the physical characteristics of a heavy-worlder as well as the brawn of such beings. Together, he knew they would make a formidable stand against the Kreete.

Ron glided up and over the mountain passes as if he’d lived there all his life. Traveling on sparse periods of sleep, with only minimal breaks for food, he made it back to the hover-car in only eight Raulden dactrais. He was tired but not unduly exhausted, and so didn’t even pause.

He climbed aboard and hurriedly set the small vehicle on autopilot for the return flight to Gammone, pushing it to the greatest speed the craft could produce before seeing to his own needs. Once the trees were hurtling beneath him in a blur, Ron ate and drank his fill and then settled back for a long needed nap.

The trip figured out to encompass most of the current dactrai before he would finally arrive at the complex, so he just curled up on the small seat of the open-air vehicle and drifted quickly off to sleep.

The onboard computer of the tiny vessel alerted Ron when his destination was near, and after he brought his senses back to full function he felt an odd sensation. As the vehicle glided gently into its berth, it was like coming home.

He’d lived there only about six santaris, all-total, so the feeling puzzled him, yet he felt it nonetheless. Perhaps that sensation was because this was his first home after becoming the new Ron Allison…but he didn’t ponder it long.

Riding back to his plain, utilitarian living quarters on the cubic transporter, he negotiated six directional changes expertly, and that made him smile. He recalled how amazed he’d been the first few times he rode the high-tech elevator, and now he hardly noticed its remarkable ability to move in all three directional planes…up-down, left-right, forward-backward.

After he showered, shaved, and downed a huge hot meal, he headed directly to Cache’s quarters to give her his decision. He’d really missed her company while he was out soul-searching. Her charming yet sassy wit and her insatiable resolve to help the less fortunate victims the Kreete had conquered were hard to ignore, as was her incomparable beauty.

While he strode swiftly along the corridor, his memory flashed through some of the events that had taken place since first finding himself in this foreign land:

When he initially arrived on Rauld, after his adjustment to where and what he was, he’d found it difficult to resist his attraction for Cache. He recalled how hard he fought his urges while they trained together at the gigantic subterranean facility, leading up to their first battle with the Kreete. Ron found her completely captivating and uniquely inspiring as she educated him about the history and the planned future of the Raulden people. He became aware of a powerful bond growing between them even before they set out on their epic attempt at thwarting the enormous attacking fleet the Kreete had amassed. Only by constantly reminding himself of his love and devotion to his wife back on Earth had he been able to suppress his burgeoning emotional ties with Cache. Maybe it was his inconceivable alteration that had shaken his resolve toward those vows, or just the simple need for companionship at an extraordinarily difficult time in his life. He would never be certain which one was the case, but he steadfastly fought off such temptations, managing to stay true to his beloved and return to her side…only to find he was too late. All that remained of his home-world was a smoldering rock, swirling with dust and radioactive waste.

Following the long interstellar journey back to Rauld, he wandered about Gammone aimlessly, restless and depressed, even though the Rauldens did their best to understand and nurse him through his grief. A santari of mood shifts and fits of anger and sorrow finally persuaded Cache to suggest he take a long break, which sent him out into the sunlit expanse of the planet’s surface.

He left with provisions to last two santaris and no formal plans at all. He just needed to get away.

Now, as the cubic transporter stopped, he eagerly awaited the dazzling smile on Cache’s face…the one he knew she would have for him. Ron pressed the small ornate insignia on the wall beside her doorway and waited, vibrating with anticipation of their reunion. When she didn’t answer however, he queried the central computer about her whereabouts. That’s when he found out she was not in Gammone, or in any complex on Rauld.

She is gone, Ron, said a familiar voice from down the hall behind him.

Ron spun about to find Fortell gliding up the corridor.

Fortell! Ron returned, grinning broadly at the Raulden’s chief physician. It’s good to see you again.

And you as well, Fortell added as he approached the tanned figure of Ron, holding out his slim, fair skinned hand to the man more than twice his bulk.

Ron shook his outstretched offering gently, always careful when in physical contact with one of the Raulden population. He was well aware of the danger this smaller individual was placing himself in, and he greatly appreciated the fact that Fortell trusted him so much. One forgetful instant could result in a badly broken appendage, and so Ron was very mindful of the gentle inhabitants.

Gone? Ron inquired after the greeting, Gone where?

To Caron.

Alone? Ron questioned. Is she crazy? I thought we were going together.

His mind raced frantically, filling first with worry, then hurt, then anger.

What does she think she’s doing? How’s she going to find her way, protect herself, make contact? Ron asked more out loud to no one than to the doctor.

"I tried to dissuade her from striking out without you, as I would certainly feel much more at ease if you were with her, but I think she feels she is quite well equipped to carry out her plan. I pleaded with her to send for you. One of the hoverbots could have been dispatched to locate you and bring you back, but she would have none of that.

"She said, ‘He needs this time alone, uninterrupted, if he is to find the path he will walk, be it with us or not.’

She has been gone nine dactrais.

Did she take the Darlile? Ron asked, referring to the interstellar warship she’d designed and constructed over the past eighteen Raulden cycles.

No, she left that for you, if you returned with the inclination to join her. She said the timeline of the mission had been hastened due to the coming winter in the region she was headed for. There was much to do at the base of operations she was setting up and she needed extra time for that, and to get down out of the high altitude before the heavy wintry snowfall made it impassable. I am sorry but she left that station almost a dactrai ago.

Ron knew very little about her plans, only that she intended to construct an energy processor somewhere in the mountains and start the utility robots, Cnauts, to erecting a planetary shield generator. Eventually, when it came online, it would protect the Caronians from the Kreete Empire’s space fleet. He hadn’t been listening when she tried to include him in the preparations of her proposed undertaking. His emotional attachment had been concentrated elsewhere, on his past life. Now he regretted that lack of attentiveness enormously.

If she left the ship for me, then she must’ve left some instructions as well, right? Ron asked.

Yes, that is correct. She asked me to send you to the training facility. Your preparatory instructions are there.

Great, thanks, Ron told the slight man and then he turned to go to the transporter.

I take it that you have decided on your course of action? Fortell called to Ron.

Ron stopped and returned to the man.

"I want to thank you and all the wonderful people of Rauld who’ve shown me so much compassion since my return from Earth. It’s been…difficult…for me to come to grips with what happened to my race, and why. Where I come from, many prophets concurred that we were the sole intelligent members of this vast universe in which we live. I never believed that, and always wondered what our true part was in the grand scheme of it. Now I know that we are probably much like countless other civilizations and worlds, who have seen our time come and go.

"Earthlings couldn’t get past the point when we were emerging in technology, yet still clinging too tightly to the past…a period which was rife with fear and ignorance. The conflict was simply too much for us.

"I still grieve for the innocent victims, fallen before they could push beyond that narrow plateau of a future, but I know there was nothing I could’ve done either.

As for me, personally, I intend to help any group I can to at least have the same chance we had. Possibly, they will prevail.

Ron and Fortell shook hands again and then Ron sped away toward his destiny.

Chapter Two

To Caron

Ron went directly to the training room where he and Cache had spent many exhausting billots preparing for their overland journey across the Doriean valley to Jametid, the uninhabited neighboring mountain complex. It was that deserted site which held the construction and launch facility for the Rauldens’ spaceship…the Darlile.

Ron walked into the gymnasium-sized room and was flooded with vivid memories. They felt fresh and clear, yet at the same time as if from long ago, like a childhood recollection, and that yielded a slightly confused result in his mind. He knew those events were less than half a cycle in the past, but so much had happened in that time span, and so much was changed from the normalcy of his previous life, that he felt a bit disoriented as he looked about.

He stood there for a long while, collecting and sorting his thoughts, and then he pushed those daydreams aside, stepped over to the instructional terminal he’d used in the last training session, and powered it up.

The video screen burst into life with a three-dimensional projection of Cache sitting two feet away in the very chair on which he now sat. She was wearing an especially racy version of her normal uniform (a formfitting, less-than-full-coverage body-suit)…the one she knew Ron found to be the most attractive. This particular adaptation to the mundane, purely functional attire most Rauldens wore for work was a deep violet color which was a perfect match with her glittering eyes. It was adorned with sweeping and swirling additions of cream which accentuated her already fabulous figure to an even higher degree. She’d modified it to have only one sleeve, thus allowing the line of her neck to carry on nearly unimpeded to the turn of her delicate shoulder. That barely-there adornment of clingy cloth was broken only by a slim choker supporting the front section of the outfit. It had an oval shaped section deleted under the neckline which dipped to the upper quarter of the swell of her spectacular breasts and was further trimmed away just beneath those heavenly mounds to give full view to her superbly toned midriff.

Ron also knew from past experience that it had no back at all above the flare of her bottom, and still wondered at what could possibly support that tantalizing bit of material…other than glue. The lower section of the garment was like a second skin that began scandalously low on her hips and wrapped her fantastic legs in a mind-bending array of playful patterns comprised of those two off-setting colors.

Cache’s fair-skinned complexion was the tone of fresh honey and her bright blonde hair gave her whole persona an explosion of radiance. Her posture was impeccable, with the arch of her back further dramatizing the heart-pounding dips and swales of her, and causing Ron’s mouth to become very dry as he gazed hungrily at her image. He found her to be absolutely exquisite, with her sense of style tasteful, yet extremely sensuous.

Her eyes glistened as she sat there smiling that enchanting smile that sent Ron’s senses churning, and she had her hair pulled back over one ear, exposing the smooth, gentle line of her neck. She sat with her legs crossed, left knee over the other, and she had a notepad placed in her lap.

Cache took a breath to speak…

Pause! Ron ordered to the computer.

The image stopped instantly, but was as clear as if she were right there in the room, and Ron stared at her intensely. He took a few moments to explore this audaciously accurate resemblance of her as he studied every curve of her face and contour of her figure, burning them into his memory.

My God, what a beautiful woman! he sighed after a long while.

Resume! Ron ordered as he snapped himself from his trance.

Hello Ron! the Cache image said. "I am glad that you are back, although I wish I were able to greet you in person. I do not know how much time has passed since I left for Caron, but I know Fortell has informed you of this by now, so I will just get to the point.

"There has been some changes in the timetable of my, and hopefully ‘our’, mission to Caron, because of an early climate change in the region where the resistance forces reside. The rainy season is approaching and that will spawn violent and long lasting snowfall in the higher elevations. Therefore, I have placed detailed instructions on this pad about everything I have planned, everything I know about these people, and the bulk of the Kreete’s activities.

"Since we will be separated, I think you should read up on all these details, in case we are unable to meet later.

I very much look forward to seeing you again… then her expression turned serious, but do not come asking for me too openly when you get here. If for some reason I am captured, those questions will give you away as well.

Her face brightened up again as she concluded.

I hope you are well, and I hope you are better. I can only imagine what you are feeling, and I truly wish I could help you with it. Be cautious on your journey, Ron. If things go as planned, I will be waiting for you with our friends on Caron.

The image generator then abruptly returned to its blank, stand-by mode.

Ron blinked hard as the image of his friend vanished, realizing that it may be a long time until he saw her again, and in that instant he felt completely alone.

A moment later, a hidden compartment popped up and the electronic pad Cache had been holding was revealed.

Ron took the instrument out and held it for a while, imagining what she was thinking when she placed it there;

Will I ever see him again? Will he choose to risk his life all over again and join me? How long will it be before he can make it to Caron…and then how can he possibly find me?

Ron held the data pad tightly as he wondered about that last question. Then he caught a slight scent, undoubtedly left on the apparatus by her.

One of the many remarkable abilities he’d gained from his transformation-mutation with Kaskle was an extraordinary sense of smell. It wasn’t as acute as an animal’s, but was far superior to the normal man. Now that enhancement gave him solace as he could clearly distinguish her fragrance. It wasn’t that she wore any type of perfume, but rather her natural pheromones which lingered on anything she touched…as long as the automatic cleaning bots hadn’t sanitized it. He closed his eyes for a lita and smiled.

I’ll find her! he reassured himself.

Ron wasted no more time and immediately began his absorption of the material the device held.

The first item on the agenda dealt with the conversion to the Caronian calendar. On Rauld, a planet with twin opposing stars, there was no term for night since one of its two suns was always in a position to flood the surface with its light. A complete revolution of the planet was known as a dactrai and the seasonal variances of the plant life were minimal at best.

The basis of the Raulden numerical units of measurements was ten, so one hundred lita (a lita being roughly two-thirds of an earth second) made up a bort (minute). One hundred borts comprised a billot…an hour. There were thirty billots in one dactrai, and ten dactrais totaled a torjourne…a week. Five torjournes made up a santari…a month, and ten santari joined for one Raulden planetary cycle…a year. But since the planet orbited neither star, the ‘cycle’ was merely a set number for timekeeping.

On Caron, where he was headed, the terminology returned somewhat to that which he was more familiar with. The Kreete used much of the same terms that their ancestors, the Rauldens, did, with some changes. Ron’s translator chip which Fortell had imbedded in his brain was designed to exchange like terms of any known language into a reasonable version of Earth’s English…and vise-versa when Ron spoke. It was able to make the similarities of day and night instead of dactrai, and converted torjourne to week. The word week came about because the Kreete had partially superimposed their own base of measurement (units of seven) into the culture and so the torjourne was now seven days…like on Earth. Most of the rest of their terminology remained set even though the time frames varied. Seven weeks now encompassed a santari, and a complete orbit of Caron’s star was fourteen santari, or one year.

(Note: There were one and a half weeks that didn’t fit into the Kreete numerical system so they installed a Celebration Period to make up the difference at the end of the year. This was a time dedicated to competition of numerous sporting events, much like the Olympics…only with several events that took the lives of many of its competitors.)

Next on Ron’s Caronian orientation list was the data about the planet’s surface…its ecosystems, climates, oceans and such, so Ron settled in for the long haul at that point.

While he read and listened and watched the data, he took a few litas to punch in new instructions into the computer that increased the Raulden’s version of an artificial gravity field in that room. What actually occurred was an escalation in strength of a magnetic field under the floor that pulled at the material in his clothing. Thusly, it simulated the stronger gravitational force he would encounter on Caron. His and Cache’s garments were composed of a fabric containing vacandin, an element which reacted powerfully to magnetism. While in the training complex, this metallic compound, in conjunction with the Raulden’s technology, allowed them to be burdened with the weight equal to, or in excess of, any planet’s surface. It was a preparatory necessity so their bodies would adjust to the stress and strain of such places and not be shocked by them when planet-side.

Over the next few dactrais, he once again worked himself almost ceaselessly for billots on end, only stopping briefly for meals and sleep. He kept at his studies even when he worked out, cramming in as much as he could of the over ten thousand terabytes of data Cache had gathered. Her information about the Kreete’s interplanetary commerce and communication, as well as their patrols, weapons, sensor arrays, and other such categories, was extensive. Details of the lives of the typical