Emerald World

By N G Daniels

For millennia, the human race has been spreading across the Galaxy in order to escape authority and tyranny, only to fall into such hands again and again.
The Travistar, an alien race, who are disgruntled as subjugated slaves of a Pirate colony, finally gain control of their destiny, only to have it crash down around them.
Those in power seek to keep that power, and those seeking power are intent on grabbing it, even at the cost of civil war. A coming of age for new blood seeking to help explore the galaxy, finds love, only to lose it. A death and a birth, love found, and love lost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781716040382

Book preview

EMERALD WORLD

N G Daniels

Discovered Worlds Series

Book 2: Emerald World

N G Daniels

Editor: Dr. Roy L. Klassen

Cover Illustrated by Barbara Mag, ShiviDesign

Blindsight Publications

Copyright © [2022] by [N G Daniels]

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-716-04015-3

Dedications

Again, Apollo Lopez, here is another fabulous novel, and I hope the title makes the cut. From one artist to another, I hope you can put the cooking skills to good use.

I also want to dedicate this book to my friend and companion, Tonya Castillo, who came back into my life. For her loss, I hope I can be your gain.

Acknowledgements

I thank Roy L. Klassen and his family for the love and support with all of my public and private issues. I sincerely appreciate your help with my life. I also thank Cesar Zunega, a solid friend since the day I met him, and I hope we will be so until our end. Of course, Elsa Escobar, my dulcita Brujita who came to visit me at the right time in my life when I was feeling alone. You became a light to my blindness. And to Julian Roque, Nica, who will most likely never read this book, but you are in it, nonetheless, because you have been that friend when I was needy and made me laugh when I needed to.

To Gus Gypsy Adams, who let me brag about how well this book was coming together. I finally finished it, with over eighty-thousand words, no less.

To the rest of my prison crew who helped me, annoyed me, or otherwise supported my work, and encouraged me, thank you.

To all of my readers, thank you for your support and the word-of-mouth reviews, especially if you liked what you read. Please keep up the fire and pass me around to all of your friends.

Finally, and not the least of the helpers, I wish to thank all of the proofreaders: Kevin Doc Eddy, Manley Klassen, and Faye Saxton.

Introduction

This book is the second of the Discovered Worlds Series, and I am looking to keep the idea rolling on this theme and am happy with my progress. I hope that you will like the story too.

I have written creatively by inventing the Xiao Universe, on which these books are based. It has been an ambitious project, and I hope to immortalize the serial character in the Xiao Universe.

I yet have a third ambitious project to open up the Xiao Universe to other writers, hoping to build upon the framework of information I have laid out already. I want to encourage others who want to write and have a knack for the craft to pick up a pencil, pen, or turn on that word processor and lay down those words. It is like jogging, put one foot in front of the other, or put one word after the other.

Please let me know what you think of my work, significantly how I can improve.

Prelude

The alien, known as a Travistar, scampered up to hand the uncut emerald over to the gemologist. The bony greenish hand of the goblin-like creature lifted the double fist-sized crystal and bowed. The alien, who was also a slave to the pirate colony on the unnamed planet they call Emerald, hated the humans. In actuality, the Travistar hated any of the alien races that lived in the pirate territory, for it was all they have ever known, and that was enough to poison any sentient creature’s mind.

The Travistar looked up and said in Imperial Common, As you requested.

The gemologist turned to face the voice, his thin white hair sticking out in all directions from the straps of the loupe around his head. His one visible blue eye brightened at the sight of the gem. What a specimen. The gemologist snatched the stone and turned away to better peer at the depths of the crystal through his digital loupe, and in turn, dismiss entirely the alien crouching next to him.

Those enslaved Travistar had been beaten into submission, breaking their spirit. The pirates had then not shown any care or acknowledgment of the Travistar people, in any regard, other than mining the ores found on Emerald World.

The gemologist raised the hunk of crystal and aimed the digital loupe at the stone so that the sensor array across the top of the rectangle aperture could send out their signals and then report the findings to the wearer. The gemologist sighed as he was pleased this new loupe came in. It was several decagrams lighter, and he was glad for the relief as the old loupe was giving him neck problems.

The data spilled into the loupe’s monocle and displayed on the micro screen overlay on the inner optics. Most traditional loupe users want actual light from the gem to pass into their optical sense and rely on the other analysis from the digital sensor arrays.

The purity was pristine as the aluminum, beryl, and silicates were clean and evenly distributed throughout the uncut gem. He was happy indeed. The stone would bring him a small fortune, and not only that, he would be praised by the Pirate Czar, Voltin.

The secondary scanning report then came back. There were unknown impurities spread evenly throughout the gem, in tiny amounts, and the loupe was experiencing difficulty identifying the elements. There was also a sub-atomic inconsistency all through the stone and accounted for as a fractal-like example. That would not do, and it worried him. Now it was a matter of trying to extract these impurities and what was with this fractal pattern. The gem would have to be studied to see if it was natural. He wondered if the mining process could be doing the damage. In any case, he would need to log this, and it would noticeably devalue the emerald.

The gemologist’s forehead beaded with sweat, and his visible eye appeared to strain as if he were trying to think hard but failing.

It was due to the voice in his head telling him that the emerald was pure to one-hundred percent. The gemologist tried to struggle against the internal monologue and even spoke back to the voice. Still, it ordered the gemologist to report the emerald as pure as possible and account for such superficial impurities as negligible.

It was essential to share the stone’s rare discovery, so the gemologist fought the idea the voice was trying to plant, although he would be earning a percentage of sales. If there were any troubles with the purity, he would pay the price out of his hide. As his rational mind thought through the consequences, he knew that he would indeed be slowly disintegrated from the toes up if the czar ever found out. If he was lucky, he might talk his way out of the mess by claiming a malfunction or some such story—even a mix up in the labeling. Still, there were the odd fractal patterns, and that needed attention.

Finally, the gemologist’s mind succumbed to the will of the voice’s thoughts, and the struggle ceased. He entered the information, believing that what the spirit told him was true.

Is there anything else, sir, the Travistar asked in its best gravelly Imperial Common voice, still crouching down next to the gemologist.

He discovered long ago that he had to handle the slaves with contempt, or they would revolt in those little irritating ways. However, the gemologist did not care one way or another for the creatures that humans nicknamed goblins.

Pack this up, and have it sent to the czar. He will want to see it for himself. czar was just another name for the pirate colony’s top dog and meant king or emperor. The cutthroat mercenary gangs on this planet vie for the coveted czar position, and as the days of yore, the colony was a loose pact of men who follow the leader. That is until that leader does not lead them into wealth and riches. Then the dogs start fighting, and a blood bath ensues until one comes out on top.

Very good, master, the Travistar said and took the gem back. It will be done.

The Travistar have facial expressions, much like humans, where they can smile, frown, or quirk up their eyes in thought. The perpetual frowns they wear seemed to everyone else that this is the way their faces are naturally. So, when the Travistar turned away, his frown turned into a smile. And to see a Travistar smile is to look into a nightmarish face. If one were to believe in daemons, this is how one would look. The jagged pointed teeth, spiking out from their V-shaped mouths, the slanted slit red eyes showing wicked thought, and the sharply pointed olfactory passing for a nose, would give just about anyone terrible dreams. That is, if anyone on the planet would even dare to look at them.

The czar will be pleased, indeed, the Travistar said under his breath as he stepped out of the room and to his race’s new destiny.

Chapter 1

Hordilog, a Luscent and Captain of the Farsight 5115 Exploratory ship, stood as clear as glass and radiantly bioluminescent. Hordilog had requested employment and now stood contemplating while staring through the cabin’s viewport with its photo-sensitive ocular. The stars through the viewport were bright and filled Hordilog’s alien brain with stimulation. The scientists could not call it a brain as the fibrous electro-gelatin did not act like a humanoid brain. For one, the memories were formed in lumps and not folds. Second, the thought processes were nowhere close to being the same. The scientists had identified some of the Luscent’s cognitive functions, but as the brain-gel morphs, there would be loss of information.

As with most living beings, the Luscent can feel and sense their surroundings. There is an olfactory sensation, which is like a humanoid sense of smell. There are sensitive electro-gel nerves under the translucent skin, a rudimentary mouth with taste receptors, and the requisite digestive enzymes. Many other complex bio functions, such as reproduction, predator defense, and two fibrous arm appendages, manipulate their surroundings. These arm-like appendages can extend or retract into the body. Each is akin to a tentacle but less agile—the arms end with three fingers and fibrous muscle tissue with limited mobility.

He turned to examine the data on the holo above the conference table. If he could have smiled, he would have. Instead, he lit up within, making a light pattern with bioluminescence radiating throughout his body, reflecting the emotions of happiness and contentment.

Besides communicating with others sonically, the Luscent can interact through intricate bioluminescent patterns conveying emotions and rational meanings, akin to signaling. 

The ship’s A.I. was programmed to respond to the captain’s bioluminescent patterns and react inside its projections with similar flashes of light.

A greenish-blue and tan planet slowly rotated on the holo, with information communicated in Luscent, and illuminated planetary data all over the image that the scout had gleaned.

The biological signs conveyed that there were diverse life and possible cognizance. The images showed strange formations that indicated the possibility of tool users and, with that, comprehensive intelligence. That did not mean that there was conscious awareness, but it was an indicator.

Another odd thing Hordilog noted was that the planet had abnormally high deposits of beryllium and bauxite. There was also a high chlorine content in the atmosphere giving the glove its bluish-green haze. The atmosphere was still breathable by most humanoid standards, but the air would be harsh, eroding anything and everything exposed.

The Miricon Corporation seemed interested in claiming the globe for the mineral resources and needed to establish if there was actual sentience indigenous to the planet. Unfortunately, a local star system within the cluster might be hostile to such an endeavor. The exploration of the globe was only to establish if there was a proper claim to the world. Otherwise, the corporation might take a no-holds-barred interest, which would mean extra work for mercenaries.

The mission had stated that the Imperium would give escort, and that would have to do.

Hordilog thought over the likelihood of the mission. It caused his mind to begin a unique process bringing an attitude of marvel to the scientists. Those same scientists also found that this action was a bit humorous, as a fully grown Luscent’s brain would swirl around, sort of like a blender. Since there are very few memories formed, and the electro-neural gel, or brain, is clear of obstructions, it is easy to watch what is happening. The human penchant for laughter at the detriment of others was not, of course, wasted here.

Hordilog made his decision and would take the contract. Being a freelance ship, Hordilog set the terms and conditions, and these conditions were not worth the trouble, but he had a policy about refusing the hand that fed his crew.

Now he needed to inform his crew of his plans. He had taken on a few new explorers from the Imperial Exploratory Foundation, and since this might be a wild adventure, he would give them the option to stand down. He was sure they would not, as he had picked them for their psych evaluations. But as a gracious captain, he had an obligation to offer with no penalties. The senior staff would be more than enough for this mission.

The Luscent stood by, flexing its skirt, an umbrella-like appendage underneath its bulbous body. Its rippled edge, made by unique muscle fiber control, allowed the Luscent to move across surfaces as if it were gliding. The skirt also flexed independently in sections, allowing it to climb most surfaces and inclines. This appendage was very useful in water as the expansion and contraction gave the Luscent a powerful swimming motion. Though they are no longer water-bound, their race evolved out of the ocean depths, so those very same scientists have nicknamed the Luscent race Jellyfish.

Chapter 2

The royal yacht, MSK Bird Song, dropped back into common space outside of Kirsk II, a Mackelroyian pleasure planet at the Mackelroy Star Kingdom’s southern edge. The blue-green of the planet’s terraformed surface radiated beauty and wealth to some eyes. Almost two thousand years of terraforming and nurturing had created one of the Star Kingdom’s finest jewels and were the Royal family’s pride nearly as long.

The local planetary government advertisements stated that Kirsk intended to mirror the old Earth’s climate and biosphere. A significant number of the cases note that some of the first-generation ships brought in more than ten thousand original plant life species and a whole animal life ecology. That genetic biomass was salvaged and acclimated into the original planetary ecological system over the centuries.

The second function was that this planet, owned outright by the Mackelroy family, was a crop-producing farm world, and the royal family’s alternate estate, better known as, home away from home.

Princess Adilane peered out through the observation blister, beaming with her cute, dimpled smile.

Verdant II, the Mackelroy Star Kingdom’s home world, was also an excellent planet to live on, especially on the Continent of Palace, but Kirsk was all hers. At least daddy said so. Nothing that belongs to the royal family belongs to anyone, except for the king or queen, whichever may be in power, and they can dispense such things as they see fit. When she becomes queen, Kirsk would indeed be hers.

Princess Adilane saw her reflection in the blister’s sapphire window panes and smiled even more. She was glad her father had her genetics cleansed and that he picked the right color for her thick, lush, and sturdy auburn hair. She loved that the natural blond highlights were always present, and she made most of her rank jealous. Whole flocks of socialites got pregnant and had the gene modification to be in style with the newest offspring.

Janet, Adilane said as she whirled around in her electric-blue silk dress. The gown, purposely cut to hug every curve of her body, clung to her hips and breasts while leaving her legs and arms free to move in a voluminous flair of skirt and sleeves. Designed to be a perfect woman, Princess Adilane did not need the smart mechanical enhancements that some dresses could provide.

Yes, My Lady? Janet stepped from the corner alcove in the sitting room and gave obeisance to her Lady with a small curtsy. Adilane had always been kind to the old lady and treated her well. One of the kindnesses she gave to Janet was not expecting her to grovel like all others beneath her station.

Are we scheduled to land?

Yes, My Lady. The captain has made the priority clearance, and we will be ready in a half; half being slang for half a Standard Imperial hour. Janet, who wore a plain matching blue dress with her gray hair pulled up in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, waited expectantly for another command.

Good. Make arrangements for that quaint little place I found last time, will you?

Yes, My Lady, it will be arranged.

The quaint little place was nothing of the sort, but an elite-cuisine restaurant that nearly everyone would sell their soul, or firstborn, to have a seat in the back corner by the kitchen doors.

Suddenly there was a loud WHUMP sound that reverberated through the ship, felt more than heard.

The claxon began its high-low warble as the emergency lights came on, bathing the compartment in deep red.

Alert, alert! Boarding action in progress—, then there was loud static over the comms before everything went silent. The lights, klaxon, and all other regular ship noises ceased. Then the gravity went. Adilane and Janet were no greenies when it came to zero-G force, and both reacted immediately, pushing off and finding handholds that had been disguised cleverly throughout the ship. A clash of style and function, wouldn’t you know.

Janet moved to place herself between the door and her Lady while sounds of battle reverberated through the ship’s hull.

Janet, you do not have to do that. If they make it to me, then Royal Marines’ contingent will have failed, and I am as good as taken. So, move to your alcove and let them have me. Do you understand?

Yes, My Lady Adilane, Janet said in a choking voice. Adilane could see the woman’s tears in the planet light coming in through the window, glistening as they floated in freefall. Adilane felt pity for Janet. They were a natural part of each other, and now, it was a genuine possibility that she would lose Janet.

Give me your holdout, Adilane said with authority. Janet complied by removing the small hand laser from a concealed pocket at her waist. The pistol was about the size of her palm, and she deftly sent it floating toward her Lady.

Adilane caught the pistol. She locked one booted foot in the handhold with expert precision and then flipped her skirt up, revealing her long, lithe legs, clad in real silk and garters. As she concealed the pistol deep inside her without hesitation, what she did next would undoubtedly give most men a good display. Most women scarcely did things like that.

Adilane pressed her skirts back down to see better and hoped she could remove the intrusive object. Otherwise, she hoped that it would come in handy eventually. That is if her kidnappers did not scan her. The pistol was nearly undetectable by most scanning tech, but who knew?

Outside the compartment, there were more explosions, and a terrible fight erupted. Even though Janet had sealed the door, the invaders were prudent and brought a breeching laser. In no time, the door was open and removed.

A scout drone came in and swept its LIDAR, essentially mapping the compartment and relaying the targets to the soldiers outside the door. Suddenly, a kill-dart flitted in and killed Janet instantly with a small explosive to her heart. No recovery for her. Adilane might have revived her, but the explosive made sure that would not happen due to the micro-shrapnel viciously tearing through her body. One grateful side effect was that the micro-shrapnel only left pinprick holes, and the blood barely oozed out of the exit wounds.

Next came the smart net. She tried to dodge the drone, but its small engines spit their tiny flames of fire with a pippity-popping sound, changing trajectory and then releasing its fibers. Adilane was taken in mid-leap and wrapped up quickly by the smart fibers. She glanced off of two bulkhead walls before her yielding flesh absorbed the impacts, then she slowly drifted into the middle of the room.

Hello, came the armored voice as Adilane struggled with the net. My name is Czar Voltin, and you are my guest.

Adilane stopped struggling, and as she drifted around, she gawked at the hubris of the man, standing in full battle armor, arms crossed, and a wide leering grin behind his transparent faceplate.

To attack and take a princess of the Mackelroy Star Kingdom was ballsy, to say the least., As she gave in to the net’s cinching, letting it wrap her up like a mummy, Adilane thought, does he think he can get away with this? I am sure there will be a fleet defense ship in route by now. So, how does this—this thing think he will survive?

As lights came back on, the man maneuvered closer and guided her to the artificial floor as the gravity came back. We will be leaving shortly, Czar Voltin said. Please direct your eyes to the blister, and you will see why we are taking you."

Before she turned to look out through the viewport, she saw a Travistar slave lumber up next to this Czar Voltin character. She never knew why anyone of any station would want to own such a vile creature. They were right out of the old Earth nightmare stories. The name, Goblin came to mind.

Adilane watched as a freight liner thrust into position outside of the viewport with one of its large containers gaping wide to swallow her yacht. What pissed her off was there, floating nearby, was a replica of her ship.

By the time the fleet defense ship came on the scene, she knew that the pirates would soon be long gone.

Chapter 3

Tylan Mondrose sat at the table on pilot’s row, a distinct area of Benford’s Landing, the planet’s metropolis on Verdant III, and one of Mackelroy Star Kingdom’s rougher places.

Active crew members were not allowed to drink or use illicit drugs, so they came to this place to work out their troubles. It was usually something about their love life in the crapper or their wife or contract partner of whatever alien race running off with half their earnings. Thus, drinking, drug use, prostitution, the infamous street fighting, and brawling were typical.

Tylan’s hair had grown past most merchant ship’s regulation length, but that would not be a problem as he could just cut it as necessary. However, this would tell a potential captain or Executive Officer that he had not recently had a job. It would be a slight indicator of a larger problem, or it could be a pilot merely enjoying some time off. In either case, the prospective employer would try to use this to bargain a lower salary contract. Tylan was not here for a job this day, so he had not bothered with the hair. Most of the ship’s inquiries had happened earlier this morning, and only two ship’s execs had even bothered to ask.

Tylan, or Lan, as he asked everyone to call him, ruffled his hair, then sipped his lager. Townsfolk said the old-time lager, brewed from a two-thousand-year-old yeast, was purported to have been brought here by the first settlers to Verdant III. After it arrived in Benford’s Landing, the Mackelroy Star Kingdom, from the beginning, took over the brewing. It was not that impressive because the taste was just as good as any other alcohol made on any different planet in existence. That is unless the bar or public house decided to water the brew down. Lan thought that the Razor’s Edge Inn was one of those places.

He was not overly disappointed with the Inn. The prostitutes all had their papers in order, and the place was clean, although a little run down.

The Razor’s Edge was famously known for brawling clientele, and many patrons come to this place regularly to get into what they call scrums. Many men and a few women, or aliens who come to the bar, know each other and find it acceptable to bash on one another—something about it being cathartic. Lan did not buy into that way of thinking. Besides, as an Imperial Spy, he needed to keep a low profile. The locals seemed to respect that and did not punish nor abuse him for not fighting. However, he had started up a few scrums himself but only had to limp out of the bar on those occasions with minor patch jobs involving synthetic skin replacements. It was on those occasions that he noticed more respect from the regulars.

Right now, the Razor’s Edge was quiet and held the local bums, nursing their drinks and making small talk. He had fended off the resident prostitutes as they made their rounds, except for the one he liked. He pawed her before she could charge him, then sent her on her way since he did not have time for more.

He had to laugh at how these women, and one alien, went about their job. When an unsuspecting customer entered, the prostitutes swarmed like flirgist’s, seeking out nectar. The insects would flit about the plants, persistently drinking until there was nothing left to give, desiccating the plant.

Lan sipped again and waited. He was at the bar at this time because he had received a note to be there. Though the message was authentic, Lan found that it was falsified. He knew that when he had worked out the codes that the Imperium handlers had given him, and noticed