Among Bright Stars... (Neo-human #2)

By Rodney C. Johnson

Humanity’s future, isn’t human…
Nadia Korelia, Falcanian queen, has spent the last three years assembling together her sibling Morningstars. Artificial people, who are in every way stronger, smarter and more beautiful. Can Nadia unite her fellow Morningstars, even as the Falcanians use war, to broker for peace?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359917068

Rodney C. Johnson

Rodney C. Johnson lives in Westbrook, Ct. with his two beagles, Zoey and Bentley, plus the family cat Gretchen. He enjoys reading and writing. He considers himself a “Foodie”. His love of Science Fiction was driven by Star Trek and Frank Herbert’s classic work DUNE.In his free time, Rodney C. Johnson is an avid collector of books, new or used. Mostly Science Fiction books (Sci-Fi), but he will read anything, provided it catches his interest. It's not about the genre - it is about if the author paints a vivid picture with his words.

Book preview

Among Bright Stars...

Neo-human #2

Copyright by Rodney C. Johnson

V2.0

Among Bright Stars...©Rodney C. Johnson and Roadrunner Books, a division of ThunderHawk Enterprises. All Rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover art by Roark Dallas.

Visit us on the Web:

https://vril75.blogspot.com/

Table of Contents

Epigraph

Chapter 1. Fateful Lightning

Chapter 2. In Thy Image

Chapter 3. Junction

Morningstar Index

Falcanian Ranks & Military

GLOSSARY

Also By...

About The Author

Epigraph

Robots of the world! The power of man has fallen! A new world has arisen: The Rule of the Robots! March!

--- Radius. R.U.R. (Rossum's Universal Robots), Karel Capek, 1921

Chapter 1. Fateful Lightning

On this night of burning, the Earth forever changed. Born anew in a windstorm of flame, now to be ruled over forever more by the Twelve Sisters. The being, who called herself Alita Hel, lurked in the fire's shadow, cast by the immolated cityscape. Her eyes glimmered blue as her sisters joined her there. The Twelve come together at last to admire and rejoice in what they wrought from steel, bullets, and glistening lightning-blades. Kobol our creator, our god, and our father is dead. Yet we must honor him in this world soon to be born. Alita Hel explained to her collected sisters. "We shall teach this handful of humans how to live in concordance... "

--- 12th Daughter of Kobol, by Tanis Rao

[Alaska: Iksar’rang Base. June 12, 2033]

Arshira, are you in position?

We’re ready to strike. Arshira’s night vision turned the darkness into a contrast of green shadows. Located in a sinkhole, that had been dug out of terra firma; the Iksar’rang established an octagonal base, formed from a purplish-gray material which they'd brought with them from Ksar. She tightened her vision, and her cybernetic enhanced eyes allowed the Valküri to easily pick out a cluster of guards stationed on a battlement, manning a particle cannon. The tentacle headed and beaked Iksar’rang talked among themselves in their chirpy language. Iksar’rang came in various, dappled colors, with unique family patterns on furred and scaly bodies. Near seven-feet tall, frog tongues snapped out of beaks to probe at the air. When the Imperium had invited the Iksar to this planet they chose Alaska as the place for a stronghold, as it reminded them of their rocky, barren homeworld of Ksar. A human Centurion joined the Iksar'rang at the particle cannon. The bronze clad soldier appeared to be in charge, given without fail the aliens jumped at his commands.

Claw-boots gripped the rock; Arshira crouched in her position on the cliff side. Offering encouragement and instruction, the voice in her golden bird-like helmet prompted: Temujin’s strike force will be in place soon. Perched together on the granite rock face, her Valküri Sisters, Arshira's Swan warriors waited, regaled in gold and green battle armor. Each woman, potential energy prepared to spring into the sky on great wings. Plated tails undulated like cats, ready to pounce. Faces masked by predatory helmets, which obscured all but elegant jaw-lines, which completed the appearance of humanoid birds of prey.

Arshira commanded the advance team against the Imperium. Her tail swung, while she contemplated the conflict to come: A fleet of FS-9 Raptors would assail the valley, and then drop 'ground forces', along with heavy equipment. R-12 Mauler tanks, troop carriers, and 'Storm Angel' sleds. All supplemented by battledroids. Once the assault forces were in place, then the FS-9 Raptors would turn their railguns on the main particle cannon, the base's primary threat. Considering Shuriken, how we got this intelligence, we might be playing into the Imperium’s own schemes. Arshira said. She had interrogated the source herself, and understood that they were here because of what she advised. The Valküri Swan commander couldn’t escape the responsibility of this choice.

We’ll know soon enough. The Imperial Strato-General assured his favorite sub-commander. Won’t the Iksar’rang be surprised when that shield collapses? Shuriken Kra exclaimed from his Operations Center miles away.

We’re also at a disadvantage, Arshira acknowledged, while she peered closer at the Iksar’rang who manned the cannon. Railguns, against a force armed with particle beams, thoughtful she sighed. Superior weapons.

You’re our superior weapon. Shuriken encouraged. We’ve always held a tactical leverage in the air. Picking off a thousand flying foes is never easy to those slaved to the ground. ISG Kra boasted. Besides, sometimes there’s nothing more effective than a solid object moving at an extreme velocity making contact with another solid object. The valley rumbled at the low resonance of twenty FS-9 Raptor corvettes on fast approach. Temujin Sardur’s strike force at last had arrived. In a blur, the Morningstar's Hunter-Seeker Drakorian force came into the valley, loosed a deadly volley of fire onto the sinkhole which lit the lowland in a bluish flash. All things considered, it almost could be thought to be beautiful. Begin the assault Arshira. Shuriken ordered. Drop that shield!

Three-six-six-twelve Arshira punched into a transmitter, the code provided to her by her informant. The Akjang-T'Shaak heard one of her Valküri report: Iksar’rang shields have collapsed Rihav. Opalescent, mother-of-pearl wings extended, Arshira and her Valküri entered into the confrontation lightning-blade ignited, its coruscating monofilament edge surged into scorched brilliance. In her other hand, Arshira pulled out her coilgun, and fired explosive slugs. She flew into combat, a literal machine of death.

Violet energy beams struck out at the FS-9 Raptors that now circled the valley, for the moment, the vessels new protective shields disrupted the force of the particle beams. Confusion ruled down in the sinkhole. Why had the base’s shields failed? It took a precious few minutes for the base commander to regroup. Defense centered on the alien shielding technology. From holds in the FS-9 Raptor's underside, gray armored 'Wingmen', Falcanian Marines took to the air and began the ground assault. Equipment fell, motored into combat.

Troopers began to form up in front of the base. The local Legion and Iksar warriors. Curiously, they did not fight as an integrated unit. The Legion remained in formation, while the Iksar’rang scattered into smaller groups. Both battalions fired up into the night sky, particle guns unleashed deadly arcs of purplish light in an attempt to pick off flying Falcanian warriors. Horrified Arshira watched, gasped as one of her Valküri: Shivani Tariksar, a close friend vaporized in midair. Consumed by the violet beam. The Valküri incinerated, her flesh turned to ash and crumbled in the sky. A testament to her last battle, the indestructible hrisanar in Shivani’s bones supercharged by the beam glowed a bright green aura, only to fall in a glittery cloud.

Enraged, Arshira swooped close to the earth, found the nearest Iksar’rang; she clawed at him with her talons, gouged out his eyes and ripped off its probing tongue. Vajra slashed off a head-tentacle; clearly this caused much pain to the alien. Her next slash took off its arms. After all this she left him alive in order to suffer. This particular Iksar’rang no longer a threat, exhilarated by the violence, Arshira Hol-Drakonis cut herself a bloody swath across the field of combat.

[Mars: Falcanian Mining Colony Aren-Zülar]

In his ornate gilded office, Urksa Vorskrai stood on a balcony at the center of the vast Falcanian mining complex. Here he watched over the Khanate’s off world construction operations. Three years ago the Guilthari caste Lord failed to win the hand of Princess Sitara. But in that time he had amassed much personal power by his acceptance of D’Har-Ziral, a new Falcanian faith which preached the Falcanian species was destined to rule over a sacred world, out among the stars. Rumors of such a planet's existence whispered among the populace, and served only to generate a fervor for this Holy Land. A select few in the Shotar’s inner ring knew the truth of it.

The titular head of Urksa’s faith, Kheira Drakonis, hid away in her retreat high on the Himalayas, far from her worshipers. At all times watched and cared for by the priests of The Road of Light. Certainly the illuminated princess did not create the faith which came to venerate her. No, that had been the creature who curiously called himself Fafnir T'Skarin. Reclusive in his own ways, Fafnir came forth to preach the greatness of the Falcanian cause as embodied in the Vralis. He would shout out to his followers: 'The Shotar holds us back; he must embrace The Road of Light and seek out our Promised Land, Falcania-Vor.' Fafnir’s religion was that of revelation, and means of salvation of self through Kheira's being. For it is said she had touched the face of The One.

Urksa gulped honey wine, grinned broadly while crews below hauled hrisanar ore to be refined into engine coils for the greater effort of the Falcanian Khanate. Above him, in dry docks three FX-24 Space Battleships were being constructed. At this very moment the Shotar would be about to board the first completed Capital Ship for an inspection. Lord Vorskrai, proud of himself, was pleased that he could serve his Shotar in the effort against the Imperium, even if it meant he had lost one of the Shotar's lovely twin daughters to a member of the blasted Drakorian Guard. Urksa, if nothing else considered himself a true patriot!

[Above Mars: Falcanian Orbital Construction Facility]

Vivid blue, gold racing stripes marked its compact, tine built hull, FS-Vor Kiral Kra soared upward, out of the Martian atmosphere, flanked by three X-Wing Mark 1 Warhawk starfighters headed for the construction platform where the final assembly of the new battleships was underway. On the command deck of his daughter’s ship, the Shotar peered out the forward window as the FS-Vor Kiral Kra rotated, to bring itself into line with the nearest battleship. Lost deep in thought, hands clasped behind his back, Sharr’s armored tail swayed while he watched the docking maneuver. A groan from beside him caused Sharr Khan to turn away from the expanse of open space, and glance with concern toward the human female beside him. Ah yes! Aria, his beloved, rebooted human lover, she hated space travel. True, at first, like most, Aria had been intrigued by it, unluckily enough for her, on Aria's first ever off planet expedition, the gravity failed. From then on, Aria despised anything at all to do with space travel.

The new battleships could be discerned among silver latticework construction stations. Keels highlighted by spotlights. Long hulls that evoked assault rifles with a bayonet at their points made it clear these new vessels were in truth weapons platforms centered on a forward main cannon. At the rear, three huge thrusters arranged in a triad charged hot-blue. Large nacelles, much like an FS-9’s atmospheric jets housed maneuvering thrusters, were mounted on short pylons. A domed conning tower surmounted the mid-dorsal of the craft. And most striking of all, attached on the FX-24’s prow was a single-edged knife blade located beneath the space battleship’s 'Shiva Star' particle cannon, meant to store the battleship's array of sensors.

The FS-Vor Kiral Kra began its docking sequence, an airlock system cycled, and a sequence of hatches opened and closed for the FS-Vor Kiral Kra to enter and land below the great blade where the main Raptor corvettes, and Nemesis-class starfighter launch bays were positioned. Presently the forward winged spaceship adjusted its VTOL engines to nestle itself alongside dozens of its sister ships inside one of the alcoves that lined the bulkhead of the hanger deck. Piles of pronged shaped Nemesis-class starfighters were stacked there as well.

A lift brought the crew of the FS-Vor Kiral Kra down to the lower hanger where they were greeted by the supreme overseer of the FX-24 Project: Grand Admiral Arodsur Krag. T’Saar! saluted the Grand Admiral. Arodsur Krag, like most Falcanian males he wore facial hair, in his case a trimmed auburn beard that ended in two braided points. He wore a black jodtok, decorated with many markers of his supreme rank. "Welcome aboard the IFV Arshira's Ascension! Boomed Arodsur Krag in an almost too jocular manner. The first of her class."

[New York. Imperium Medical Research Center]

Truly, a universal blood type! Behind his goggle's red-tinted lenses Doctor Ivan Raban's eyes bulged, thrilled by the results which were pulled from the female corpse's blood that the Praetorian, Gaius Trajan ordered him to study. I've never seen it’s like. Medicine has been trying to develop synthetic blood along these lines – For the battlefield, and this... Creature seems to produce it naturally. Its blood is without any trace of animal origin. Entirely synthetic.

Gaius Trajan scowled.

In death, the female corpse metalized, to become speckled platinum. What once had been soft tanned womanly skin took on a mechanical aspect in its unnatural metallization, which made it clear that this thing, despite the pleasant female form, wasn't at all human.

Very interesting Doctor.

More than you know young man. Dr. Raban carefully folded back a piece of metallic flesh located in the corpse's upper shoulder. He'd taken tremendous care in this autopsy, so as not to damage anything more than what the Centurion's bullets already mangled. Bullet resistant flesh and muscle. When charged with an electric pulse becomes like armor. This is why only a high-caliber, point blank shot killed her. The doctor guessed the Centurions must have been rather surprised when bullets ablated off this gorgeous woman as she tore into them. Not impervious, but resilient to most kinetic attacks. These muscles, he probed at vitrified muscular tissue which resembled sculptured glass. Are an organic polymer. Quite strong --

I've witnessed those muscles at work, they're superhuman. Gaius agreed. She... He amended himself It – Killed eighty men, ripped them apart barehanded, as if they were paper dolls before a Legion, at great personal cost to themselves managed to take her down. He muttered. Now perhaps my Legionnaires will be more careful about what whores they try to bed.

It’s a pity, said Dr. Raban. I would've loved to chat with her. Not only does she seem as though to have been very lovely, if my scan of her brain is any indication, these... It troubled Dr. Raban to think of this curious individual’s corpse in such terms. Yet clearly, Gaius Trajan did not acknowledge her personhood. It’s brain is not like yours or mine. Where we homo sapiens possess mere gray matter, hers is a positronic mesh. A holographic mind, which no doubt in life scorched blue-brilliance in its every cerebration.

The Praetorian glowered. Both impressed and apprehensive.

Simplicity and elegance. Very straightforward, and utilitarian. Better than the mishmash which is our human organ plan. This technology spans the biological and mechanical, being neither, yet akin to both. Continued Dr. Raban awed. To see this creature's inner workings produced a stark contrast for Dr. Raban, even helped Ivan see that there might be something to the notion lately touted, humans were a badly stitched together slave species, a rough conjoining of Anunnaki and hominid. Humanity in his view were nothing but a pallid attempt at the refined setup of this... Android. This being has organs just like you, or I, he clarified. Or the equivalence thereof. Pheromone glands between her breasts and mouth. Heart, brain, digestive system... Reproductive organs. All functionally optimal. Flesh that isn't animal tissue. Honest-to-goodness synthetic biology.

What does a machine need reproductive organs for?

Indeed.

Gaius spat. A machine that grows. Has a synthetic heart which pumps blood. What sort of abominations walk among us? Asked the Praetorian commander, aware that there were more than just this single example laid out on the autopsy slab. Many were all but lords over humanity. It disgusted him.

In the end, said Dr. Raban. Aren't we all really complex machines?

That did not mollify the Praetorian very much. Doctor, these things have achieved positions of power and influence across the globe. They rule over nations. King Odin Battenberg is one, there's an African warlord amassing armies to build an empire for himself and his woman. The scariest factor to Gaius Trajan existed in the person of one of these robots. And the Muslim prophet, Darius Noorani can be counted among these mechanical men. How many more are in our midst? What agenda do they have? With no small quantity of paranoia, aghast by the blur between machine and organic he spat. These golem should not hold dominion over mankind's future.

After the Praetorian left the laboratory, called away on an emergency military matter, Dr. Raban tried to put the mechanical female back together as best he could. Dr. Raban would've greatly enjoyed meeting this woman. He tried to be as respectful of her remains as his medical technique allowed him. Dr. Raban removed bullet slugs from wherever he could, and while doing so, noted nodes placed along the spinal column. Positronic clusters he deduced. One slug obstructed a connection between two nodes, he removed the obstruction.

Dr. Raban's probing detected light-sensitive filaments interwoven throughout the mechanical female's flesh. A data transfer network, independent of nerves, or autonomic functions. The implication astounding, if his guess were correct, she could interface with almost any computer via simple touch, or through retina projection. Fascinating!

Later the good doctor sat down to type out his findings.

Blood warmed, respiration returned, pulse hummed, and emerald eyes fluttered open. Bright overhead light shone down and caused her enhanced eyesight to compensate for the white brilliance. Death sucks! Most of the bullets bounced off, but impact hurts like a bitch! Thought the woman as she sat up, naked on the autopsy slab. The redundant positronic clusters, free from bullet obstructions were at last able to cycle her restoration program. Her now fully functioning body could absorb any leftover bullet fragments and very soon she would be back to ace condition.

Honey-blonde curls draped over her breasts. Flesh no longer metalized, returned to a soft warmth as life surged throughout her being. She glanced over at her left shoulder, noticed a portion of metallic skin which hung loose, with her right hand she pressed the flesh back into its proper place, commanded her body to repair the damage. Awareness of her Morningstar functions permitted access and control. The honey-blonde slid off the slab, and remembered what brought her here. In her centuries long attempt to return to her point of origin, to seek out her creator, she found herself caught up in America's desolation. Trapped in the wastelands, she became a camp follower. What a tremendous fall from a woman who once had been a queen.

Dr. Ivan Raban gulped when the reflection of the beautiful honey-blonde, mechanical female appeared in his monitor. Caught up in his notes, the sight of her, with that beauty mark which both marred and enhanced her perfect symmetrical face, caused him to stagger to his feet shocked. Oh my God. You're... You – You're alive! On a gut level, Ivan knew that shouldn't have really surprised him, as she wasn't human. Yet to see her there, in all her naked glory nonetheless flustered the doctor, who only three hours before had been removing bullets from wounds which would have more than succeeded in killing any one of the Imperator's crack centurions.

An almost predatory expression, she smiled. I am.

Ivan thought it might be a Welsh accent, though he couldn’t be sure. Propriety overtook him and he offered his hand. Dr. Ivan Raban attached to the Imperium's Medical Corp... Still rattled, he stammered. It’s... Very nice... To meet you...

To provide this doctor with her true identity could complicate an already labyrinthine state of affairs. Oh, how she wished that the Technomancer were here. He's the one who sent her on this long, tragic journey across time, so that she could warn her sibling Morningstars and recover Lucifer's Watchtower. All in a slim hope that Earth and humanity might be preserved. Yet he wasn't, she'd need to contend on her lonesome. Jennifer, her current alias. I am Jennifer Lake. Her model, Jennifer knew could be prone to extremes of compassion or violence. A fact of her nature which left Jennifer in a quandary. What to do about this doctor? She should kill him; it'd be cleaner that way. And yet realized that had this physician not been fiddling with her insides, she wouldn't be standing here alive. Doctor, I need to leave this place. her voice a soothing lilt. Secretly, urgent.

...And as you can see my Shotar. Grand Admiral Arodsur Krag continued to outline the abilities of the FX-24 Destroyer. CIC is ovular, rather than circular as on the FS-9 Raptors. They'd toured the length of the ship, all 1092-ft of it, took a bullet car here, and there to at last arrive at the conning tower, which sat aft of the dorsal section.

Near Atar Kran’s huge shoulder Aria yawned, not bothering to hide her disinterest in what the Grand Admiral explained to her husband with his over the top keenness. Tiberius began to fuss and Aria cooed at him, which caused the child to giggle.

Casually Sharr sat in the upholstered blood-red captain’s chair, chunky and angular. The Shotar turned to look at Aria, Tiberius held close to her bosom. Arodsur went still on about the elegance of his newest battleship until a communications officer came over.

Excuse me my Shotar, interrupted the Comm. Officer. An urgent message’s arrived for you from Imperial Strato-General Kra.

A three-word phrase told Sharr Khan all he needed to know: It has begun! Please put me on the Inter-ship. Sharr commanded. An echoing clang, a deep bell chimed in the corridors of the Destroyer to herald forth the Shotar’s words. My Falcanians, forty-five minutes ago, He spoke into a vocator. "Under my orders, operation Raptor Scythe struck against the Imperium. He paused, cleared his throat. The Imperium, along with its alien allies have been working on a fearsome weapon intended for use against us and our homeland. We will not sit back and allow JR Giovanni to commit genocide. Thoughtful, he paused once more. We must be ready for what is to come. This crew, of one of the finest vessels I have ever seen could prove to be our last best hope in the upcoming conflict. Be ready, and always remember that inside you flows Falcanian blood. Falcania Jai!"

IFV Arshira's Ascension bridge crew got up from their stations, shouted back in unison: ‘T’Saar, Falcania Jai!'. Sharr Khan got up, and commanded: "Break moorings,