Terra 1

By Bruce Dow

Since time immemorial, Man has pondered the nature of being. Who are we? Where did we come from? Where are we going? What is mankind's destiny?

The Bible proclaims that God created man in his own image. The fundamentalists believe, literally, that God created all things, inanimate and animate in six days, and rested on the seventh day.

The Darwinian view, in its many guises, posits that all life forms, including Man evolved from a primordial chemical stew. There is a commonality of atoms, they say. Man is simply a more highly evolved animal.

What if neither of these belief systems are true?

What if the provenance of Man and the events surrounding his time on Earth have another explanation, both compelling and sinister?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bruce Dow
• Release date: Jun 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9780978032418

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TERRA I

By Bruce Dow

Published by Bruce Dow

Copyright 2011 Bruce Dow

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Prologue

The Chelians created Man in their own image. They incubated him and hatched him upon the planet Earth. Through Man, they sought to unravel the mystery of life and death. The Chelians created Man to conquer death. Death was their ultimate enemy.

Births were few on Chela and death came seldom. A Chelian might expect to live a million Earth years or more. A million years is too brief for those who strive to live forever.

Chapter I

GENUS

‘We are programmed to die: someday we may be able to substitute a longer running programme.’

Commander Terrak loomed over the test specimen. The cloned graft, introduced onto the torso of its donor a mere three weeks before, had expanded in siamese-twin fashion, so that it was at this point equal in size to its parent.

The wholly formed clone pulsated spastically beneath its veiny transparent cocoon; the reddish-hued sack resembled a monstrously inflamed goiter, hanging pregnant from the stomach of its host.

Terrak poked inquisitively into the outer membrane which sprung back, splattering a yellowish slime over his hand. Immediately, he called for his attendants, who washed the pre-birth excrement from his fingers.

How much longer Dr. Urfac, he demanded in a clipped tone.

It’s almost time, Urfac replied nervously.

When, in a few minutes, the slippery membrane began to tear, Dr. Urfac shook from relief. The chief geneticists’s show of fear was not lost on Terrak. He smiled inwardly, musing as to how much pressure a person of Urfac’s nervous temperament could stand before he would crack.

Terrak’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the new life as it burst from its cystic prison.

The absorption experiment had run its course. The cloned twin wriggled free of its birth sack, and stood up unsteadily.

It was a compelling sight: A fully developed person, covered in its viscous birth fluids. From a skin cell of its parent, it had been created and matured in just three weeks, as Dr. Urfac had confidently predicted.

The host’s function having been fulfilled, all that it was, its experiences, its personality, its character, had been transferred to its parasitic clone. With the birth of the new life, the donor’s life force ebbed away. It lay on its metal slab in the main operating theatre of the travel laboratory, a discarded lifeless husk.

The newly gestated clone, frightened by the curious observers, and by the innumerable flashing lights of the stark, fluorescent chamber, bolted for the nearest exit. The restraining beam immobilized it before it had taken two strides.

Tranquillize it, Terrak commanded.

Immediately, Dr. Urfac administered a consciousness altering drug, which created an instantaneous state of euphoria in the subject specimen.

Disengage the restraining beam, Terrak ordered. The Terra I Commander then began talking to the newly hatched clone in tones so uncharacteristically mild and soothing that the scientists who were observing the spectacle exchanged puzzled glances.

Amused by their reaction, Terrak condescended to explain.

We must ensure that the specimen is as relaxed as possible by the time the sedatives wear off. Observe your monitors. The drug’s effect is already lessening: yet our subject remains almost torporized with contentment. By the time the drug has run its course, it will manifest an absolute trust toward me. I will be its opiate.

Terrak resumed his hypnotic monologue, which he repeated for a full hour. His overpowering will seemed to channel its message through his cold, dark eyes. But his words were as always, soft and gentle.

Satisfied, finally, that he had achieved total domination over the specimen, he addressed his staff, Your will note my esteemed colleagues, there is no trace of the tranquillizing drug left in the specimen’s blood stream. Let us double check our monitors to be sure. See how relaxed with pleasurable sensations - - very much at peace.

Terrak paused to make certain he had everyone’s undivided attention. Abruptly, he got to the point of the exercise. We will consider, now, all salient factors that will induce and reinforce terror in the subject specimen. At present, our clone has total freedom of movement. We will, therefore immobilise it at once. It will not be able to move so much as an eyelash. Then, when the restraining beam is activated, we will focus the specimen’s eyes directly to the point of trauma - - yes, focus its eyes on the very organ which is to be violated, and keep them focussed. For you see, the specimen no longer has any internal defences. When the horror overwhelms its consciousness, it will turn to me, desperately pleading with me to make the terrible reality go away: nay, it will manifest such childlike trust and love toward me, that what will follow will be an immeasurable shock, an incomprehensible horror - - for I will be the instrument of its dismemberment, and best of all, the specimen will come to that most shocking understanding only moments before the agony begins.

Having explained the rationale with his usual precision, Terrak turned and extracted deftly from an instrument holder, the kind commonly used in surgical procedures, a scalpel of unusually large proportions. The visual impact is of paramount importance, he exuded. Terrak ordered next the deactivation of the screening device so that the specimen from that point might hear everything that was being said. On a pre-arranged signal, the restraining beam enveloped the somnolent clone. An instant and total paralysis struck. A mechanical arm reached out unerringly, fastened at the specimen’s testicles, pulled them taut, and fastened them onto the dissection plate.

In accordance with Terrak’s instructions, the clone’s eyes were focussed open and fixed on its own splayed genitals.

In the same gentle tone used earlier, Terrak addressed his mute subject. You are frightened. I know. Please let your fears dissolve. I am here.

Simultaneously, the restraining beam was disengaged. The specimen began to whimper like an injured puppy. It threw its arms around Terrak, and hugged him compulsively, its head nuzzled in Terrak’s, huge chest. The monitors which had but moments before registered anxiety of the most extreme intensity, now recorded a supervening calm.

From behind his back, Terrak produced the finely honed scalpel. The cutting edge flashed in front of the victim’s eyes. At the same time, the restraining beam struck again, full force, rendering the specimen immobile and mute. Terrak made certain that the full enormity of what was about to happen had time to register in the victim’s consciousness, before he sliced one testicle in two, employing a single slow downward stroke. The specimen remained fully conscious until it died. And only in death did its silent scream cease.

Wonderful, enthused Terrak. Megaputer must confirm the readouts, naturally. It would appear, though, that this particular specimen has manifested the most exquisite level of sheer terror yet recorded. The insight we receive today could prove to be of inestimable value in dealing with our enemies. There is so much we must learn from our studies, do you not agree, Dr. Urfac?

Urfac had the good grace to retch in his private quarters.

* * * *

After what seemed like an inordinately long wait, Miletus was admitted into Terrak’s presence. Without so much as an upward glance from the computer console upon which his whole attention was focussed, Terrak spoke, I am busy, as you no doubt can observe. Perforce, your information must be of the utmost importance.

I believe it to be, Sir. My informants are quite reliable.

Proceed.

Without question, Zandron and the Council have received detailed reports of your experiments on the Genus #6 expendables. You may be required to answer charges in regard to the violation of the rights of persons.

It is not a problem, Miletus. My people in Council will defuse the issue. Who do you suppose informed Our Lord Zandron?

My sources do not know. Perhaps the families of the victims?

Hardly, my dear Miletus. Relatives of Genus #6 expendables do not have a particularly well developed sense of family. And the only persons who are privy to the cloning experiments on Genus #6’s are Dr. Urfac and our own people. Urfac is too frightened to make so much as an innuendo against us. No, Miletus, I somehow suspect the meddling hand of Zandron’s reptilian ally in all this. The Lizard is uncanny. I shall not underestimate it. But we are not to concern ourselves at the moment, for I have something of such astounding significance to present to Our Lord Zandron that as far as the expendables are concerned, His tender conscience will be assuaged. You have done well, Miletus. One can never be too well informed. By the way, the finals of the Mithral games commence the day after tomorrow. Join me in my box. Let the games be the beginning of our celebration which will inevitably follow upon my meeting with Our Lord Zandron

* * *

Terrak had to admit to himself that the upcoming Mithral games gave him an anticipatory thrill, a visceral feeling akin to that which his more creative experiments engendered, or perhaps, he mused it was more closely approximating his more memorable sexual encounters - - yes, that was probably so, the sheer violence of Mithral, the giving and receiving of pain, combined always with the utmost skill and artistry.

Mithral had become, in fact, the ultimate Chelian spectator sport, a kind of computerized jousting which combined the skills of the humanoid combatants and their computer programmed machines. Each competitor accessed his 3924X terminal, mounted on the steering column of his lizard-shaped vehicle. The object of the game, to out-programme and, therefore, to out-manoeuver your opponent so that a fatal blow could be struck with a specially casted two-edged broad sword fashioned from native Chelian Tetzelian ore.

The Chelians found this pastime particularly exciting because it reminded them of their medieval heritage extending back 2 million years. Mithral, in any event, was not particularly violent by Chelian standards. Advances in the science of medicine within the Chelian sphere of influence had reduced the death rate among Mithral combatants to a quite acceptable level of 26% in an average playing season. Terrak viewed this trend toward a diminution of violence as a sign of decay within the forces of the Empire. If only Zandron had not ascended to the Imperial Chair, how different it might have been.

II

Zandron, Supreme Commander of the combined forces of the Chelian Federation, entered the outer port of the Travel Laboratory at precisely M16 protime.¹

Terrak had arranged an honour guard of Chelian and Allied Officers, a reception befitting the arrival of so distinguished a personage.

We re indeed honoured Lord Zandron by your presence. I know how busy you must be.

On the contrary, Commander. The Council and I are vitally interested in all phases of your work here. However, I would be obliged if you will take me directly to the facilities.

Yes, of course, My Lord. I have prepared for your consideration an especially illuminating experiment which bears on the long-term control aspects of the hatching programme.

Terrak led his venerable leader to security Area ‘B’, which contained a wide cross-section of species and embryo banks, sufficient to populate a thousand planets. The spectrum was complete from single cell organisms through invertebrates and reptiles, to mammalian insectivores and primate life forms of astonishing variety.

I am on the threshold of a momentous discovery, My Lord, Terrak offered. I have already created some truly superior hybrid specimens by means of my enzyme fusion techniques. Perhaps, Sir, you might interest the Council in allowing an exhibition of my Para-Chelians at our next Sacramentum. They are incredibly powerful animals, absolutely fearless, and totally bipedal as well.

So you have actually turned the anti-social Genus 5-6’s into wild beasts?

Not at all, My Lord. I have succeeded in fusing the genetic bases of both animal and Chelian to form a viable new species.

And you want to display these aberrations at the Empire Games!

I thought it might be amusing.

Commander! The Mithral Sacramentum is for warriors, men of honour. It is not intended for freaks.

I see, rejoined Terrak icily. In any case, my achievement, which you obviously regard as trivial, My Lord Zandron, is but a stepping stone to the greatest adventure ever undertaken in the name of our people. I propose to unlock and manipulate the mechanism responsible for cell degeneration in our race. I will do this by fusing the gene factors of Genus I Chelians with synthetic life forms whose cells have been engineered to encourage self-regeneration. The resulting hybrids will be cultured here and hatched on the planet Terra I. Once I succeed in isolating the mechanism of cell decay, I will then infuse the requisite genetic materials into the Gene Pool of all Genus I Chelians. I will offer immortality to our people.

Terrak paused to assay the impact of his probe. Zandron watched him warily, but said nothing.

Terrak continued. Of course we must be prepared to fail, perhaps many times, before our ultimate success. I am sure I can count on the Council’s fullest co-operation.

I will need some assurance, Commander.

Whatever you wish, Sir.

If you succeed, Commander, these mutants you’re working on might prove very dangerous.

Agreed, replied Terrak evenly. But I am certain I can allay your fears. The demonstration I promised you, My Lord. Please observe the enclosure, a canine domestic. Nothing very special about it as you can see. Now, I will activate the barrier, and turn on three stimuli, one after the other.

Terrak released the first of the stimuli, a pleasant Chelian rhythm played on the planet especially on Unity Day. The canine’s auditory orifices perked up. Observe the cranial activity monitor. Now the second stimulus.

The dog became restless, pacing up and down in its force field enclosure. Cranial activity jumped.

And now the last.

The power of the dog’s leap, fangs bared, at the force field between them was so great that the force field seemed to bend momentarily. With a snarl and a snap the enraged animal appeared capable of terminating them. But the force field held and rebounded, catapulting the dog back into

the rear force field barrier. Terrak removed the stimuli and the animal became immediately passive again. He then turned off the force field and it padded its way over to them nuzzling them gently with its nose.

By increasing the power of the third stimulus we can get a self-destructive cranial activity of plus six, or a million times over normal. Actually, plus five will do it, but six is instantaneous. Destroys the autonomic function capability. There is the ultimate control.

I don’t see how this sort of device will work in the case of widely dispersed populations, Zandron queried skeptically.

Ah, but it will, My Lord. We have determined that the effect can be induced in other species with a little gene manipulation. Seems to have less effect with the more intelligent specimens. But all the transported species will have the control characteristic. In that the control function is genetically seated, very little stimulation is required from the force field which merely acts as a catalyst. The gene mechanism does the rest. The control gene is so beautifully programmed, I am able to alter personality, intelligence levels, even physical characteristics at will. I simply instruct Megaputer and it is done.

Interesting, Commander. Perhaps the Council might be persuaded.

Chapter II

THE ARK

~~~~

The mandate had been approved. Terrak was almost excited about it. Zandron had decided upon a public holiday. Delegations from the far reaches of the Empire assembled in the Megastade to observe the military and social organizations of Chela in their salute to the Terra I Expeditionary Force.

The Chelian populace, a million strong, crowded into Empire Square, straining to get a glimpse of the spectacular display of military might which was unfolding around them.

Empire Square was the nerve centre of the Chelian Federation. In addition to the High Courts of Justice, Supreme Council Chamber, Legislative Assembly and Inter-galactic Diplomatic Offices, Empire Square housed the Central Documentation Centre for the Empire. Here were complete dossiers on all citizens of Chela, its allies and subject species. Here also were enactments, orders-in-council and imperial decrees extending back five million years. All this information was stored in duplicate Megaputers no larger than ten meters square. These twin quantum based computing networks represented the acme in wave particle technology, whereby quantum cubits exist in multiple states simultaneously, reflecting the eleven dimensional string universe, which the Chelians had divined. The Documentation Centre’s memory banks were capable of storing, correlating and updating over 100 billion categories of information. The more complex the problem, the more intricate the matrices, the more exponentially quickly Megaputer calculated in quantum reality. Before the perfection of Megaputer, effective intergalactic centralization had been impossible.

Now the three thousand habitable planets which comprised the Chelian Empire could be held under rigid surveillance. Even the slightest hint of political or social unrest was quickly identified and swiftly dealt with.

In the packed stadium Terrak took his place on the reviewing stand behind the Supreme Commander.

Zandron was attired in his purple robes of Imperial Command. Prominently displayed on the third finger of his right hand was the Imperial ring which imprinted his personal Imprimatur on all fundamental documents of State. For this important ceremonial occasion he girded himself with his sword of valour, symbol of the highest military honour in the Empire, awarded to him 100,000 years ago (25,000 protime) for his gallant defence of Chela 3221 against the incursions of the Marat Beetles from the Star System Cymes IV.

The martial pass-by was led by the 102 Genus I Paladins of Chela who sat on the Supreme Council, and who alone were entitled to serve as Governors of the satellite states in the Empire. These were followed by the intergalactic Merchant Adventurers accompanied by their retinue of Drone-Clones. Next came contingents from the Chelian Imperial Fleet, followed by the Oranian allies who grudgingly were given a place in the procession. Humanoid in appearance, the Orans were shorter than Chelians and stockily built. Their reptilian ancestry though could be perceived in their silverish toned scale-like skin. Now Orans were employed primarily as diplomats, a recognition of their keen intuitive gifts.

Following the presentations, in accordance with time honoured Chelian traditions, a formal banquet was spread.

The menu was plain, almost austere, consisting of two Chelian vegetables, one bitter and one sweet, and a variety of fruits from the experimental farms of Alpha Centauri A. Zandron had personally set out the menu. Terrak, who delighted in fine cuisine, took it as a personal insult. Conversation was desultory. It was considered in poor taste, and inimical to proper digestion, to continue the business of the day while at table. Talk ranged from comparisons of the relative charms of native Chelian women, and those marvellous contortionists from Drosno Belog 804, to the latest advances in upper Tachyon² capabilities with the Chelian Fleet.

Captain Almalphos, commanding the twin planets of Persei 4, had gathered about him an admiring phalanx of younger officers. The Persein women can keep you going forever; their organ extends so that it wraps around you, then it sucks you inside, the Captain offered.

Cnapse, Almalphos’ second in command, interjected, Don’t forget the temperature technique.

I was just about to get to that. Almalphos paused for effect and continued. Their organ sucks you in deep . . . changes temperature . . .hot, cold, hot cold, hot cold.

Sounds like something we might try to inbreed genetically in the public women of Chela,

Cnapse enthused. I wonder what Commander Terrak would think of all this?

Our esteemed Commander doesn’t seem to be amused by anything just now, Almalphos observed, casting furtive glances at Terrak who stood impassively away from the milling officers.

That one is really strange, continued Almalphos. He has a thing about being clean. Can’t stand being around non-Chelian life forms. Our Oran allies have actually lodged formal protests against him.

Yes, but he does wild things with Chelian women so I’m told. His own intelligence staff procures them.

That’s quite true. They’re specially chosen for size, shape, flexibility, etc.

Size where?

Obscene guffaws could be herd over the din of the banquet hall.

That’s funnier than you think, Miletus smiled. I’m told he measures and computes everything - - positions, sensitivity levels, energy output - - right down to angles of entry and viscosity of fluids."

A conclave of senior officers were heavily into their favourite topic, the games of Mithral at the Megastade. Nostalgia flowed and, to a person, it was conceded that the games as presently constituted were but a pale reflection of the sanguinary spectacles of former times. It was allowed that Themocles and Hession were accomplished drivers to be sure, but none measured up to the legendary Aurorus, The Great One, who had registered a string of eighty-two consecutive victories, of which fifty-two were kills.

Before returning to the Council Chambers, brandy was served. Terrak was careful to drink very little and Zandron, who was known for his asceticism, declined the libation altogether. His preeminent position in the Federation exempted him from the normal requirements of etiquette on these occasions.

II

Supreme Commander Zandron and Marshal Bolag, leader of the Oranian Allies, were huddled at one corner of the dining hall. The other Councillors looked on curiously.

Orans had never before been allowed to attend Council. Bolag was the first and only Oran Councillor in the long history of the Empire. It had been a logical choice. Marshal Bolag was a renowned warrior, many times decorated. As a diplomat, he had defused many tense intergalactic confrontations. The wily Oran possessed, as well, a particular aptitude for political