The Tale: A Story of Galactic Proportions

By David Kingsley Evans

The Tale is a chronicle prepared by one of the greatest historians of the galaxy. It represents his life’s work and in the opinion of many of his peers, it is a study of significant importance to the history of the period. Moreover, what a time it was... Coalition starships routinely patrolled thousands of star-systems. It was an era of majesty, a time of euphoria. The self-assured citizens of the Protectorate were regrettably unprepared for what was to come. Everything they relied upon was about to change.
Deep space vessels find anomalies in the fabric of space, great tears in the dimensional walls from which rivers of deadly anti-life energy flowed. Coalition scientists have no idea that these are the first clumsy attempts by a race of hellish beings to free themselves.
The loathsome race of primordial demons was casting aside the shackles of their bondage. A species born of evil was about to be unleashed upon an unprepared galaxy. Humans struggle to maintain order in a congregation cast into chaos. Meanwhile, two of the most vicious races ever to grace the field of battle rejoice in the glory of the bloodbath. Violent space confrontations see the destruction of planets and the near extinction of entire races. The Protectorate tried to live up to its promises. They tried defending their coalition of worlds, but in the end, the forces under the command of the beasts crushed their mighty fleets.
A powerful ancient people had incarcerated these creatures of darkness eons ago. Unfortunately, their jailers have long since ascended, leaving the galaxy almost defenceless. Salvation then was down to the support of a sophisticated android and his sentient if unconventional starship. However, perhaps equally as important was the fellowship between a handful of brave companions who found themselves bound together on a quest to find one of the omnipotent guardians of reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Kingsley Evans
• Release date: Jul 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311498878

David Kingsley Evans

I have enjoyed a life of sunshine and sin! I used to think I was untouchable. Then I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. I felt physically disabled and psychologically crushed. Luckily I was able to connect with people who hadn’t let the illness control their lives.I’ve always enjoyed reading science fiction epics. I decided it was my turn to write in the genre I loved. Through my writing I have been able to forget my problems and discover a whole new reality. I truly hope others enjoy my work!

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THE TALE

A STORY OF GALACTIC PROPORTIONS

By

David Kingsley Evans

Second eBook edition

Published in 2013

Copyright © David Kingsley Evans.

Distributed by Smashwords

The author or authors assert their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author or authors of this work.

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Formatted for Smashwords by Ebook Launch

www.ebooklaunch.com

I dedicate this book to the memory of my late sister Heather. More than anyone else, she encouraged me in all my endeavours. The tragedy of her death changed me forever. For me life without her will never be quite the same. She was my sister and also my best friend.

Contents

Prologue: And It Begins!

1. The Protectorate

2. The Squamata

3. PSS Nightingale

4. Salvation

5. Morbius

6. Ancient Evil

7. The Star Marshal

8. Ragnar

9. Eldorado

10. The Ground War

11. Rescue

12. Wolfgang's Folly

13. The Ocle Quest

14. Escape from Eldorado

15. Sirella

16. Death of a People

17. Planet Riva

18. New Rome

19. Hope

20. Drakon

21. Critical Juncture

22. The Weapon

23. The Real Threat

24. Time of Tranquillity

25. Psychic War

26. End Game

Epilogue: The Unborn

Prologue

And It Begins!

Students, we come to the most difficult part of your course, for I can no longer rely on trusted historical facts. The records for this era are far too vague. What histories we do have, which were drawn from archives found on many worlds stretching the length and breadth of the entire galaxy, often conflict.

How, then, do I intend to teach you about this forgotten period in Galactic history? The answer, my young friends, is that I intend, not to teach, but to engage you in a colourful story…a tale of galactic proportions. You will be the judges. And in the end, it will be you who are asked to balance the probabilities.

I intend to use historical fact as much as is possible, but I will also draw upon the mythology of the period, legends of the epoch, stories handed down from father to son, the nightmares of children, and digital audio and video records found in the wreckage of ancient spacecraft recovered after the Great War. I will even call upon the written transcripts of scribes found in the ruined cities of conquered worlds and the personal diaries of people who lived through the period.

During this age, a powerful coalition, founded by a race we know as humans, had become the primary power in the galaxy. However, their supremacy would soon be challenged by an ancient and malevolent species who were about to escape a celestial prison. How it all ended…well, frankly, I have heard a hundred different endings. For this, my tale, I have chosen the only ending I think could possibly be based in truth - but, as I stated earlier, it is for you to decide. Although, students, at the end of the semester, I will ask you one question.

The Historian

The Testaments (recovered from personal records):

Subject one - Species: Human

Following the fall of the small earth-based governments in the late 29th century, a new society was born. It was a magical time. When we eventually stopped warring amongst ourselves, humankind united under one flag. Moreover, with the passing of time, that flag - featuring a golden four-pointed star - became a symbol of peace. It was a time of optimism; the future was one of promise.

Subject two - Species: Human

We explored space, made contact with other races, colonised worlds; soon, under our unassuming flag, a coalition was born. The Senate named it the Protectorate. As citizens, we made it our goal to continue the exploration of the galaxy, to seek out and find other intelligent life, and to spread friendship amongst the stars. Unlike our warlike ancestors, we did not conquer, rape, and plunder the fledgling civilizations we found. We did not use our powerful ships and formidable weaponry to control and suppress the independence of less-advanced, but important, developing species. We humans were held in high esteem by other races. We were considered honourable, peaceful, and most of all fair. We had come a long way from our savage beginnings. And yet, there were still those among us who allowed ego and pride to cloud their judgement.

Subject three - Species: Human

In order to protect the reputation of the Protectorate, and the rights of every living being in the galaxy, laws were passed limiting contact with species below a certain level of development. In addition, the prime law of non-interference except by invitation became sacred to the Protectorate. We humans became negotiators and ambassadors who could be called upon to fairly settle disputes between other species. Prejudice of any kind based on race, level of technological development, creed, or ideology was strictly outlawed. We liked to think our flag's gold star represented the four galactic quadrants of the galaxy. We were called a noble race. At the height of our grandeur, half the galaxy was under the peaceful control of the Protectorate.

Subject four - Species: Squamata

In the beginning, the humans tried to help us; they were our friends. However, not even the Protectorate could conceive of a species totally without mercy. We were a peaceful race of reptilians. For what the Kree did to us, they should be condemned for all time.

Subject five - Species: Eldorian

Except for occasional nightmares - and racial memories hidden deep in our subconscious minds - we had all forgotten them, the abhorrent monsters whose greatest pleasure came from listening to the piteous shrieks of the weak and innocent. But the Kree were not creatures from a dream; they were ancient demons biding their time.

Subject six - Species: Valobian

The Kree killed us by the millions; they destroyed our cities and they claimed our world. But for the survivors, it was worse: The devil creatures were cannibals who claimed their victims' souls.

The following are extracts from records that, at best, are anecdotal and of dubious origin:

Subject seven - Species: Unknown

None of us was really afraid. We were the greatest power in the galaxy. Then we started to lose our minds: Fathers attacked their sons, husbands killed their wives, even children became violent. Society broke down; we all but destroyed ourselves before the first attack.

Subject eight - Species: Unknown

She wasn't a ship; she had a mind and a personality. Some say she was a little quirky, even lovesick. All I know is that when the chips were down, she didn't forget us and she came back for us.

Subject nine - Species: Unknown

One man, if that's what he was, became our only hope. In desperation, we even sought out demi-gods but it was his devotion to our survival that gave us the last solitary spark of hope. Whatever happens, we owe him.

Subject 10 - Species: Unknown

They deserve to die and die they will.

End of extracts. Please continue to the main course material…

1

The Protectorate

The laughter in this arena is contagious, said President Everhart van Kampen. It reminds me of a time when I was a boy. The Protectorate had just moved into the Second Galactic Quadrant. More important to me at the time was that the carnival had come to Roseville, my hometown. My Mum was cheering as the floats went by. The atmosphere was one of merriment, but Dad's face remained stern. It was as though it were his duty to cast a cloud over the whole affair. That is not going to happen on this occasion. Today, I will not allow anyone to dilute these celebrations.

Wearing a full-length, flowing, white kaftan with a fine-gold, embroidered trim, the President looked relaxed as he continued his annual State of the Protectorate speech. I stand before you on a floating podium, decorated with the great flag of the Protectorate, in the centre of the Senate Arena, in the heart of the city of New Rome, and I feel humble. How did the boy from Roseville get here, I ask myself? Then I realise that my mother gave me my compassion, but it was my father's unyielding, often uncompromising, ways that gave me my backbone.

The President paused and smiled. Dark clouds do not always mean dark days and sometimes, they even herald good tidings, like the coming of the rain that fertilises the farmer's fields, making them green. The coalition of worlds, that we now call the Protectorate, once was no more than an idea germinating in the minds of our forefathers. Moreover, they had days like today when they made time for laughter, but, remember, for every one of those days, there were a hundred days' doubt, when our citizens showed courage and a willingness to face periods of gut-wrenching hard work. Those pioneers are the ones who humble me, for, thanks to them and their strength, we have reached an age of rapture. The President waited for the applause that he confidently knew would come. Then he pulled himself to his full height and raised both his arms in the air before, in a clear voice, he spoke again. Senators, members, and peoples of our great Protectorate, I conclude my summation by confirming that we have enjoyed another year of fiscal growth and prosperity. People in the arena roared and hooted. But if there is any bad news, he added with a smile, it's only that I have accepted the kind invitation of the Senate to continue my presidency for another year.

The President looked down from his elevated position and watched as smiling mothers lifted their children into the air as though there could be no greater sign of their approval. The noise was unbridled and tumultuous, but, to his ears, it was the resonance of continued popularity and to him, that was indeed a joyous sound. Thank you, my friends, for this marvellous welcome, the President said. I hope and pray my words are being received equally well on all the planets that they reach. He need not have been concerned because, on all the worlds that his voice and his three-dimensional holographic image touched, similar celebrations had broken out. With a population of trillions, there was barely a dissenting opinion to be heard anywhere within the Protectorate.

Running his fingers through his thick mop of prematurely grey hair, the President, who, at one hundred and twelve years, was hardly even middle-aged, smiled and then focused his sky-blue eyes on the crowd below. Before I finish speaking and we start the festivities, it would be remiss of me if I failed to call upon my friend Heimirich Wolfgang the Star Marshal, and Commander in Chief of our fleet and our military forces throughout the Protectorate.

The Star Marshal's podium rose from the arena below, until it was just a little lower than the podium occupied by the President. The crowd grew quiet and some of the children in the crowd pointed excitedly at the giant. Even some of the adults gasped when they first saw him in the flesh. He stood before them a tall bull of a man, with a huge, muscular frame, almost no neck, and an oversized head that seemed too large even for his enormous body.

It's always a privilege to visit my friends on Earth, our home world! he said, his bellowing voice reverberating around the entire arena. I was born on the Planet Venturus, but many of you know my ancestors came from the old Germanic area of Earth. I listened when the President spoke of his mother's love and his father's authoritarian rule. I was orphaned at an early age and therefore, never benefited from sound parental guidance, which is probably why Everhart got the top job!

The crowd cheered, clapped, and laughed again. I did once look up my family tree, thinking I would find a German hero, but my most famous forefather was Klaus Wolfgang, the owner of the largest sausage factory in a city called Munich. My friends, when you have an appetite and a waistline like mine, you try not to think about sausages.

They love the fact he can make fun of himself, said one of the guards in the arena.

Yes, responded another. Just listen to the crowd chant his name, 'Wolfgang, Wolfgang, Wolfgang'… Wolfgang raised his hand, bringing silence to the arena, before speaking again. Earth is the birthplace of the Protectorate, but, as most of you know, over two centuries ago, spacefaring explorers discovered and populated Venturus. Today, that world, which is situated very near the centre of the galaxy, has become the heart and muscle of the Protectorate. It is a planet strategically positioned to be the home of the greatest military force and the largest space fleets the galaxy had ever seen. Moreover, citizens, it is an anchor in space that will stand for millennia as a warning beacon to anyone who would even think of doing us harm.

The smile on the Star Marshal's face disappeared and his black eyes glowered down on the crowd. There was a time when warfare was common amongst the races of the galaxy; thankfully, that era is past. Wars? We have no wars. Who would dare challenge us? He paused to let the listening crowd cheer and applaud. We in the military exist only to guarantee your safety and your security.

The speech was electrifying trillions of people throughout the galaxy.

It's true! many of them said, as they slapped each other on the back. Being a citizen of the Protectorate assures not only our prosperity but also our protection.

The crowd in the arena started to chant again, confident they were listening to a friendly giant and a military sentinel. Either way, this great man somehow gave them the feel-good factor by subduing their most primal fear - that of fear itself.

Once again using his huge hand, the Star Marshal silenced the gathering and then, ever the showman, he prepared to finish his speech with a little melodrama. When you look at the stars in the night sky, you have the right to feel proud, for your fleets are patrolling them, guarding our coalition in the name of the Protectorate.

Finally, he allowed himself to smile again and in that moment, the whole galaxy loved him. The President and I have kept you long enough. There are honourable senators waiting to speak to you, so I bid you farewell.

The awe-inspiring applause was unrestrained and overwhelming. Children too young to understand the speeches soaked up the atmosphere as they eagerly purchased ice cream and candyfloss decorated with the gold, four-pointed star of the Protectorate.

The next podium to rise, stopping just below the Star Marshal's, was that of Dr. Anastasia DePaul. She was the Governor of the planet Restorus and the Protectorate's Head of Medical & Scientific Research.

The motion of moving her head in a circular motion, to acknowledge the on-going applause for the Star Marshal, caused her long, silky, brown hair to whip back and forth across her oval-shaped face. Hastily regaining her composure, she beamed a gorgeous, infectious smile at the boisterous throng in the arena and held them with the glare of her enormous, dark-chocolate eyes, with their unforgettable flecks of emerald green. The crowd hushed and started to shuffle awkwardly, like naughty children in a school assembly.

I dislike public speaking, she said. I can never think of a colourful story about one of my ancestors - save to say, as far back as I can remember, they were all medical people who dreamed of a world where health care was available to everyone. She paused appropriately, allowing a flutter of applause, before continuing.

When I was a little girl, my grandfather would sit me on his knee and tell me about dark days here on Earth, when sick people would be allowed to die because they could not afford medical care. I remember laying my dolls along the bed and promising them that if they got sick, I would care for them, even if they were poor. A ripple of laughter came from the throng below.

Today, she continued, I am delighted to confirm that my programme to offer a free health service to all inhabitants of the Protectorate has been fully implemented.

It's what she promised when she took office, said one woman in the crowd.

It will mean a lot to the outer planets, said another.

The assembly roared and cheered enthusiastically, and the children waved their little hand-held flags, until it became clear she was ready to speak again.

Our Star Marshal is from Venturus, she said, a world he described as the heart and muscle of the Protectorate. I would modify that description. In my opinion, Venturus is the strength and muscle. My planet Restorus, a world completely given over to scientific and medical research, must lay claim to being the real heart and pulse of the Protectorate.

A woman dressed in white, with a red-cross armband, clapped and shouted in agreement. That's right! Restorus is the 'heart and pulse' of the Protectorate!

In any event, DePaul continued, I know my venerable grandfather would be proud if he were alive to read the statistics I have here. DePaul lifted a small data tablet and pretended to glance at the screen. Then, in a practised manner, she switched on her smile and concluded her summation. The President reported our fiscal well-being, the Star Marshal our military security, and I'm pleased to report that the statistics clearly verify that we are all living longer. It seems we are all healthier than ever. What do you think about that, Grandad?

The crowds were clapping cheerfully. It was not the riotous chanting that the Star Marshal had received, nor the excited applause the President had enjoyed. This was a more respectful, honest response. Pleased with her performance, DePaul waved on the next delegate and so it continued until the President was ready to speak again.

That concludes this year's annual State of the Protectorate address, he said. Let the festivities begin! With that, there was one last tremendous roar, before the President's podium began to descend to the arena below. After the President had completed his descent, podiums belonging to the other speakers and honourable senators also descended, bringing the formal ceremonial procedures to a close for another year.

In the crowd below, people were gleefully giving the thumbs-up signal to total strangers. Those who knew each other better would hug and congratulate each other, as the contestants in a lottery might do if they had won the top prize.

Standing apart from the hustle and bustle, one peculiar figure, dressed completely in black despite the summer sun, watched with expressionless pink eyes. Even though I love this young race I am staggered by their arrogance, they believe they rule the Milky Way, they consider themselves insurmountable, he thought.

I am truly perplexed by the boundless confidence of the human psyche, he said to unseen ears. They are still childlike and sadly unprepared for what's to come.

***

Captain, long-range scanners are picking up an unknown phenomenon, said Bridge Officer Graham Wakefield.

It's a massive singularity, Captain, added First Office Karl Rosenthal. It reminds me of my ex-wife - extremely violent and tempestuous.

Captain Jim Beaufort smiled to himself. Wakefield and Rosenthal had both served with him for the last five years on the PSS Columbus. He could rely on them and they were both good officers. Graham, send a probe. Karl, I liked your ex-wife.

Captain, shall I send a sub-space report? asked Sia Kissi, the Communications Officer. Kissi was the youngest member of his crew, but she knew better than to send a report without checking with him first.

No, Sia, no reports until we know what we are dealing with, Beaufort responded.

Captain, the phenomenon is within the gravitational influence of a star, said Wakefield, There may be nearby planets.

We are in a totally unexplored region of the Third Galactic Quadrant; therefore, we must continue to use extreme caution, Beaufort reminded the bridge crew. "That said, Rosenthal, please move us a little closer to that star system.

I have the first report from the probe, said Wakefield enthusiastically. The singularity is leaking an unknown form of radiation and there is one planet orbiting the star.

Captain, I have moved us closer, reported Rosenthal, flicking his long, blonde hair from his face. I'm using the star to shield us from the Anomaly.

Wakefield, is the ship close enough now to execute a complete sensor sweep of the planet? Beaufort asked.

Yes, Captain, replied Wakefield. Sensor sweep initiated.

Captain, the Anomaly is growing in size, creating a rift in space, reported Rosenthal.

Sensor sweep complete, Captain, stated Wakefield. There is a sentient population of almost a billion and they are approximately at the same stage of development as late-20th century Earth.

The radiation that is now flowing from the Anomaly like a great gushing river must be adversely affecting the planet, added Rosenthal.

I'm picking up old-fashioned radio signals, said Kissi. I'm feeding them through the universal translators. They are called the 'Squamata' and their planet is called 'Squal'.

The probe was destroyed, said Wakefield, but not before it sent the computer an awful lot of data about the Anomaly.

Okay, said Beaufort. Kissi, send a subspace report to Earth. Relay all the data we have on the phenomenon and inform them that we discovered a new star system with one populated planet. Explain we are investigating further and that we will keep them informed.

Captain. It was the voice of Chief Medical Officer Connie Cartwright, speaking from her office in the ship's sickbay.

Yes, Doctor, go ahead, replied Beaufort.

I've been monitoring Bridge communications and I was concerned about the effect the Anomaly might be having on the Squamata people, she replied. Anyway, Jim, I decided to carry out my own medical scan. She paused, knowing she should have asked his permission, first. Why was it she felt she could take liberties with him, just because they had once slept together? Jim, biologically, the Squamata are reptilians; more importantly, they are sick. The whole planet is plague-ridden.

Are you saying there could be a causal link between the Anomaly and their plague? asked Beaufort.

Jim, I have no idea, Cartwright replied. I need to run tests. I'm willing to take a medical team to the surface…

Stop right there. At their stage of development, First Contact is strictly forbidden, retorted Beaufort. It could do more harm than good.

Yes, Jim, normally, I would agree with you, but this plague is killing tens of thousands of them. It could even be an extinction-level event.

***

Later that evening, Beaufort turned down the lights in his ready room in an attempt to relax. He poured himself a black coffee and placed the mug carefully on the glass table near his old green-leather armchair. Letting himself slump into the welcoming seat, he sipped the warm, sweet beverage. His eyes felt heavy and he might well have drifted off to sleep, had it not been for the incessant bzzz bzzz bzzz of the intercom. He had asked not to be disturbed, but the machine did not care that he was the Captain. Bzzz bzzz, it went. Please stop, he pleaded with the intercom. Bzzz bzzz bzzz, it went. Angrily, he pushed the red button. This had better be good, he snapped.

I'm sorry to disturb you, Captain, said Kissi. I have been picking up primitive radio and television signals from the planet, and Dr. Cartwright thought you should view the last one. It's a television newscaster.

Yes, Kissi, put it on screen in my ready room, Beaufort said sharply, cutting her in short mid-sentence.

The screen flashed on and a nameless reptilian television commentator appeared with his mike in hand. Things are even worse here in the northern hemisphere, he said. We are in the grip of a bitterly cold winter. As you can see, the snow is still falling. The camera crew momentarily switched away from the commentator's face to show a panoramic winter scene. It looks quite beautiful, but tonight, when temperatures will again drop below freezing, much of this will turn to ice and many more without adequate shelter will die. The scene changed to some earlier footage of burning buildings, but the commentator's voice could still be heard. These are some of the homes that were burned in a futile attempt to quarantine the plague. Here, in this region alone, over a million people were made homeless.

The commentator appeared again. The government did try to supply temporary accommodation, but these shelters proved woefully inadequate. He paused and the scene changed to a village of small, igloo-like buildings. These freezing, unsanitary hell-holes are killing almost as many as the plague itself. Beaufort switched off the screen and spoke via the intercom to Kissi. You and the good Doctor did right to show me that. Thank you. Now, young lady, please re-send our earlier report to Earth, but, this time, include information about the Squamata plague and use the emergency channel.

Kissi, hold that order. It was the voice of Rosenthal. Captain, I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have analysed some of the data on the Anomaly and you might like to include it in the emergency message. The computer has just finished number-crunching. The planet is in serious trouble. Given the current growth rate of the singularity and the orbit of the planet, the two will make contact in approximately ninety days.

What happens then? Beaufort asked.

The computer still has insufficient data to be exact about the outcome, but the results based on available data are devastating.

'Devastating', Beaufort repeated. "Karl, for the moment, please don't speculate any further. Kissi, just add