The Goldilocks Venture Book 3: Ancient Worlds

By Hélène Hannan

Did you ever have a cheery dream of discovering gentle life on another world?

This is not that dream.

Stranded on a distant world too dangerous for physical contact, the brave crew face fearsome predators, toxic gases, and starvation. As they battle the perils of this Cretaceous world, their own internal monsters may prove the deadliest challenge.

To secure a starship to bring her stranded crew home, Captain Camille Tremblay must travel to a science station on another harsh prehistoric world to convince Earth’s callous alien allies, a race she insulted, that her crew is worth saving.

But she’s still a suspected killer and must travel with an agent she despises as he pursues a covert terrorist plot to destroy the science station. When the coldhearted terrorists decide to kidnap her as a prize, she escapes to a dark world of shadows and nightmare beasts.

Filled with action and drama, this evocative book will have you turning pages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Mar 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781665738491

Hélène Hannan

Hélène Hannan, MBA, was certified to teach social studies and has a life-long interest in science and nature. This combination lead to a unique approach to storytelling.

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Copyright © 2023 Hélène Hannan.

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except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3848-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3849-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023902806

Archway Publishing rev. date: 02/25/2023

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my daughter-in-law, Trinity, a U.S. marine and a strong combination of endurance, intelligence, and beauty, and to my remarkable husband, Mike, a U.S. Army Medical Service Corps officer, who was the first to read and proof my writings. I appreciate his consistent and valuable insights.

Where agreement was not to be had, it was best to let every man paddle his canoe his own way – The Creek Indians

From Edward Burnett Tylor, Primitive Culture: Volume 1, Dover Publications, Inc. Mineola, New York (2016) p 29. Work originally published by John Murray in 1861.

Prologue

December 29, 2265

From Captain Camille Trembley to the Crew of the Athena on the exoplanet Serafia (Ross 128b):

My dearest friends,

This evening, I’m allowed to send you this quick letter, the first since UNBI took me prisoner.

It’s already been a week since I was forced to leave the exoplanet Kepler-62e, aka Cretacea. I wish I had better news. After four days of intense interrogation by Agent Pavlov, he should finally believe I’m innocent of the grotesque charges of murder and kidnapping. However, he claims that UNBI needs to keep me in this prison at The Hague for my protection. I have not spoken to a defense attorney.

More importantly, I have not yet been able to make plans to rescue our friends on Cretacea. I agonize over them night and day. I can’t sleep. Without the protection of a starship, they’re vulnerable to the toxic gasses we detected, and who knows what predators inhabit that Mesozoic world. They have hardly any food or water. I fear the worst, the return of the cold-blooded Nolochs, and shudder at that horror.

I’m also worried about Vivian, snatched up by that callous and cowardly species, the Dwellers. Did I mention that Tiago and I filed a petition to get her released?

On a positive note, Agent Pavlov promises that UNBI will assist you with transportation back to Earth if you wish it.

I miss you terribly and will fill you in on any progress as often as I can.

Always in my heart,

Camille

PS How is Arla? Have she and the Serafims recovered from their ordeal?

Contents

Dedication

Prologue

Part I – Cretacea

Chapter 1       Bad Things Happen

Chapter 2       Home Sweet Home

Chapter 3       Flying Things

Chapter 4       Escape

Chapter 5       So This Is Christmas

Chapter 6       Boxing Day

Chapter 7       Secrets

Part II – Trappist-1

Chapter 8       The Hague

Chapter 9       The Shaman of the Mist

Chapter 10     Twisted

Chapter 11     A New Year

Chapter 12     Journey into Leakey’s World

Chapter 13     Terra’s Grandchildren

Chapter 14     Infestations

Chapter 15     The Dark

Chapter 16     Aftermath

Chapter 17     A Polite Welcome

Chapter 18     My Clan

Chapter 19     Hunted

Part III – The Dwellers

Chapter 20     Memories

Chapter 21     Epiphany

Chapter 22     The Mirage

Chapter 23     Death Star

Chapter 24     Target Acquired

Chapter 25     Abduction

Chapter 26     Dangerous Encounters

Part I – Cretacea

One

Bad Things Happen

Back on December 22, 2265, Marquis, wearing a skin-tight, full-body camo suit, swaggers onto the spacious bridge of the mining and exploration starship Polyus on his way to see Dr. Camille Tremblay, his wife and co-captain. Shorter than average, but muscular, with high cheekbones, prominent brow ridges, and a strong jawline, Marquis commands the bridge. Though normally bristling with activity, the white epicenter now stands empty, ready for his orders. It’s immaculately clean, too clean for his taste. It’s cold and unnatural. He’d like to add some dirt. Just a little would make it more comfortable, or at least it should have some warmer natural color. The lack of sound strikes him as unnatural too. "Ida, on a besoin de la musique. ‘Ce jour le doibt, aussi fait la saison,’ s’il vous plait." The AI plays the happy love ballad. Marquis nods approvingly.

Despite the starkness of the bridge, he had fought for this starship, and is pleased to possess it again. The day before yesterday, he and Camille led the diverse crew to victory over the Nolochs, a vicious alien species, and saved Camille’s friend, Arla. He puffs out his chest and stretches his arm upward, contemplating the feat they had accomplished, one requiring years of specialized training and three times the force. This small crew did it with just a couple of days of preparation—and almost half the crewmembers are female. The five brave women, displaced astronauts from the mid-twenty-first century, only months ago landed on his home world, a land inhabited by the descendants of an ill-fated French mission who had resorted to mimicking medieval life to survive. After the astronauts landed, life completely transformed for him, the two other noblemen on board, and his tenacious niece. For this mission, they had joined forces with two modern, sophisticated UNBI agents, his former enemy and ex-con with his kid brother, and, lastly, one flirtatious lawyer. Even with this victory, Marquis still keeps an eagle eye on these last three.

Though they rescued Arla from torture by the Nolochs, she fell into a coma and is resting in an adjacent stateroom. After the crew finished preparations for departure, Camille refused to leave her side. As soon as he strides into the opulent stateroom, two large huskies growl at him.

Shush! He scowls and squares off.

The huskies back away.

He softens and inquires in his native French, What’s with them? They’ve never been aggressive.

It could be the result of their injuries. I’d leave them alone, Camille, an attractive, casually dressed lady in her early thirties, responds, also speaking in French.

For sure. I was thinking of taking them for a walk.

Not today.

I came in to let you know that the robots and I are all done painting the alien coating onto the ship.

Thanks for finishing that. What would I do without you? Camille says adoringly.

He shrugs his shoulders and smiles. It looks really good.

I’m sure. I’ll check it out in a few minutes. Now that you’re done, I can order the robots to do a final integrity check.

Didn’t we do that already?

Yes, but too quickly.

I guess it can’t hurt.

And then they can start decontaminating the ship.

Place looks clean to me, Marquis says, How’s Arla doing?

Still no sign… Arla had come here to Cretacea, an out-of-reach exoplanet a thousand light years from Earth, with her friendly alien husband, eager to observe the prehistoric life, which resembled that of Earth’s Cretaceous period. But the Nolochs captured and tortured her to torment her husband and his people.

I’m sorry. Marquis places his arm around Camille. Anything else you need? It seems to me that we have a couple of hours before the crew gets back.

Camille has been monitoring the crew. Most had left in the shiny new mining haul truck to investigate and bring back whatever Noloch technology they could get their hands on. A few other crew members chose to do something different. The pilot and aviation mechanic, Emma Kelly, convinced the driver and mechanic, Tommy Mason, to help her bring back the Chidiya, a shuttle he crash-landed during their battle against the Nolochs. Marquis’ teenage niece, Collette, is exercising her horse with her warrior father, Henri.

Seeing as you’re still wearing your camo suit, would you mind gathering up a few native specimens for us to study later? The camo suits have been re-tested and are working again. They render the wearer invisible and silent when activated. Camille had insisted that anyone who had one wear it on their excursions.

Not at all. Anything in particular?

No, just different plants, insects, rocks…

That’s easy. Much easier than getting her a homemade quilt without notice. Now, what could I give her that would compliment her intelligence, brighten her pretty face, match the supple curves of her body, her waist, her hips, the allure of her scent, the velvet softness of her skin. A bold flower in full bloom. Not even that can match the taste of her breasts, the sound of her delicate moans. His blood rushes. Down boy. But why? There’s hardly anyone here now. We have time.

Use sterile gloves and cutters. Oh, and Collette and her dad are too close to the forest. Over there, the forest is out of range of the sensors. Can you ask them to come closer? Camille indicates their position on a monitor. I told her it wasn’t a good idea to go out there, but she insisted, saying the horse hasn’t had any exercise in days. She promised to stay within a stone’s throw.

Later. Sure thing. I’ll take the pups out for a walk too, he says as he steps out.

Camille, a microbiologist, shakes her head. What about sterilization?

Dressed in loose clothing and still limping from his encounter with a Noloch, Tiago Gularte, the mining company’s attorney, tells Camille, I’ll go with Marquis. He may need a hand.

The two men have been avoiding each other since Marquis angrily accused Tiago of romantic intentions toward Camille. Overhearing and annoyed by Tiago speaking with Camille with his infamous Latino accent, which women practically swoon over, Marquis attempts to brush past him. I’ve got it.

Undeterred, Tiago turns to Marquis, Do you mind if I go with you? I’d like to talk to you. (As Tiago and others do not speak French, the crew members use translators inserted in their ears to understand each other.)

Sure. Fine. You don’t need to always stay on board, Marquis says without looking at him.

Not too tempting out there.

Something, or someone, tempting in here. Come, Bernard. Come, Brigitte. Marquis attaches leashes to an excited Bernard, his large black and white Landseer, and Brigitte, Camille’s tiny Papillon. Can you hold onto her?

Yes. I can do that. Let me throw on a gas mask and raingear.

While he does, Marquis grabs a chest pack with specimen canisters and carries it and his ever-present bow and quiver of arrows. Without a word, they head out through the decontamination port onto the surface of the cave. Neither wears a mask. Tiago’s hangs under his chin. Outside, Marquis senses the increased gravity, weighing him down just like on his home world. They’re weighed down further by the musty air, heavy with moisture.

Stopping outside the cave in front of the spaceship, they breathe in the freshening scent of rain and gaze out to the wide migration trail. Pre-occupied, Marquis had not taken time to appreciate the alien scenery. The dusky orange sun, the distant dwarf star Kepler 62, would be shining just over the horizon in front of him were it not hiding behind pea-soup skies. Camille explained that the sky’s color comes from the wavelength of light entering the atmosphere and the chlorophyll in the suspended bacteria and spores. The bright sun seldom enlivens the melancholy landscape. The wide trail in front of him, where, just days before, there grew whisk-like ferns, is now mostly covered in thick mud. In the distance, an olive-green forest of ginkgoes and conifers lines the edge of the trail and conceals whatever creatures may lie within. Behind him rise basaltic shield volcanoes interspersed with Mesozoic plants.

It rains here even more than on Marquis’ home world. The downpour has just relented—only a slight drizzle now. Marquis allows the cool drizzle to cleanse his face. The explorer sticks out his tongue to taste the freshness but quickly retracts it. His face puckers at the pungent, bitter taste. Another difference. This place isn’t right. Though Bernard is skipping along, wagging his tail, dainty Brigitte is pulling back toward the ship. This shouldn’t take long, girl, Marquis says.

The sounds here are strange too. There’s the constant droning of insects and occasional shriek of high-flying, blue-gray birds. Only they’re not like birds on Earth—much bigger, the size of hang gliders, and with disproportionately larger wings. Their beaks, as long as a human body, are balanced by equally long crests. They soar with extended legs instead of tails. And their talons are in front of their wings. They’re big enough to prey on humans, prompting Tiago to keep his laser pistol ready. But the strange birds pass by, disinterested.

Across the trail, they see Marquis’ burly brother-in-law, Henri, astride Xanadu, his daughter Collette’s Mongol horse. As he rides closer, Henri’s thick auburn beard and black and red hooded surcoat blow in the breeze. The horse reminds Marquis of the much larger phants, a gentle, lumbering herd animal, on the plains of their home world. Henri, an expert rider, gracefully gallops over to Collette, in a similar crested surcoat. She greets her horse with a kiss on the nose as Henri dismounts to embrace his daughter. She points to the pteranodons in the sky. Henri unsheathes his sword until they disappear in the thick clouds. Collette pets Xanadu and hoists herself into his saddle.

Marquis and Tiago wave at the duo, and they wave back. Marquis gestures, beckoning them to come closer. Collette giggles, pointing to a strange herd of slow-moving struthiosauruses—small, armored dinosaurs resembling giant, thin-shelled tortoises but with longer tails and spikes along the edge of their shells. The herd meanders past them and lingers nearby to chew leaves. Having been advised to stay close, the riding party steps back toward the starship.

They’re amazing, says Tiago, filming the scene. Where to?

Just to that side. Under the trees, Marquis answers.

As they hike the edge of the trail through shrubs ringing the forest of conifers and broadleaf trees, Marquis occasionally stoops down to collect lava rocks, packing them into a specimen canister. He finds large beetles whose color matches the Polyus’ new coating. He gently collects them and the wet leaves on which they are feeding, placing them into another cannister. All the while, the men don’t speak to each other.

Taking out a third canister, Marquis peruses the forest, then mumbles, Not much for flowers here. The rain’s wrecked the few blossoms.

Maybe under the canopy. The leaves may have preserved some.

The men hike toward the forest through shoulder-high shrubbery.

Brigitte yaps and Marquis freezes. Shh, girl. She obediently stops, and they listen intensely.

What is it? Tiago places his hand on his pistol.

Shh. Marquis crouches and motions Tiago and the pups to do the same. All stay motionless, hidden in the shrubs. Tiago pulls out his pistol as Marquis readies his bow, aiming an arrow toward an invisible enemy in the conifers. Through the sounds of insects buzzing and chirping and something squeaking are occasional soft, crunchy sounds of footfalls. Marquis’ bow follows the sound until the footfalls get faster and fainter. It’s moved off.

Brigitte bounces and yaps and Bernard lunges forward and woofs as if to warn it not to return.

What has?

Something was tracking us.

Dangerous? Maybe extra-large carnivores, preying on the titanosaurs?

Marquis shakes his head. It’s not too big. Only one, probably.

How do you know?

Footsteps were circling us.

You presume it’s gone?

Marquis listens attentively. Yeah.

They continue Marquis’ fruitless search for flowers. In front of a shallow cave, Tiago asks, Can we rest? The pain from his leg injury is warning him that he’s over-stressing it.

You can, grunts Marquis.

Tiago limps over to a rock and reclines on it. Marquis, I want to clear the air between us, about the other day. Don’t get me wrong, Camille is a great person, but I’m not attracted to her. I wasn’t hitting on her.

Didn’t seem that way to me, says Marquis gruffly.

We’re just friends.

Usually how things start…

I work for her. She’s my client. It would be too weird, aside from being unethical.

I can’t imagine that stopping…

It stops me.

And you’re not with anyone.

I’m interested in someone else.

Oh yeah. Who? asks Marquis incredulously.

Vivian.

Vivian? She’s skin and bone.

Skin and bone looks good on her. She’s more than that. She’s fun to be around and deep down nice. After the assault, when I was in and out of consciousness, I sensed her watching over me. And she’s so smart. Too smart to take a flirt like me seriously.

Aren’t you smart? You’re a lawyer. It sucks that she’s gone.

I’m sure she’ll be back soon. Dwellers have never abducted humans for too long, even at the beginning. They’re a bit callous, but reasonable, usually.

Hope so. Really appreciate your drafting that protest against them. Can’t imagine what they were thinking.

"Glad to do it. Of course, Vivian probably has a dozen genius professors at Dartmouth to choose from. You teach there too. Anyone?"

None that I know of.

Does she like men?

Never discussed that with her. Camille would know.

Mind asking her?

I don’t mind, but go ahead and ask her yourself—What’s that noise?

They pause to listen to mechanical movements and thumps. "The Polyus is moving out. They’re probably getting her ready to fly."

I didn’t hear the others get back.

Me neither. I’ll call them to see what’s up.

Camille must be anxious. I’ll finish up with the specimens while you and Brigitte rest here. Marquis and Bernard poke around, picking up more leaves for his canisters. He catches a soft, powdery scent. Peeking behind boulders, he finds small, violet blossoms. She’ll love these. Her favorite color. Marquis carefully picks some, filling his last canister.

Tiago shouts. I get no answer!

Must be busy! Marquis shouts back. Come, Bernard. Let’s head on over.

Outside the cave, Marquis spots the Polyus standing ready on the trail. He sees a blinding light beneath the Polyus just as a blast of wind knocks him down. His head collides with a rock. He moans as he fades from consciousness.

Tiago hears the blast, then Bernard’s deep bark. He hobbles over to a dazed Marquis. Bernard is lying on his other side. Tiago drops to his knees. Hey, come on, stay with me. Don’t pass out on me. Desperate, he calls the Polyus. Camille, Marquis is bleeding! It’s blood. I can’t look. I feel sick. He pants and forces back an overwhelming urge to vomit. What the hell do I do? He pauses a few seconds. Answer me, please. Hurry. Why won’t you answer me?

II

Across the trail, in response to the blinding light and blast, Xanadu rears his front legs in the air. Collette instantly leans forward and hugs his neck with one arm. With her other arm, she pulls the reins down repeatedly until Xanadu places his forelegs on the ground. But then he bolts, sprinting away from the blast and along the edge of the trail. Haunted by horrible memories of the Nolochs, Collette curls her back, raises her bottom, and squeezes with her calves and heels, urging him to run faster.

Knocked on his butt, Henri stares wide-eyed at the ascending starship. His attention soon shifts to his daughter, and he chases after her. After several seconds, Xanadu slows from a sprint to a gallop. However, the still much faster horse is out of Henri’s sight.

As Xanadu gallops away, Collette gasps, her heart racing. After a minute, and at a safe distance, her adrenalin stops pumping. A bit calmer, she worries about her father. She dares to turn her neck, catching a glimpse of the Polyus shooting into the heavens. Not seeing him, she lowers herself into the saddle and drops her hands. Still panicked, Xanadu races against an unseen enemy, somehow managing to avoid the snags and snarls protruding from the mud.

Whoa, Xanadu! Slow down, she says in her native French.

The horse remains in a full gallop.

She pulls back on the reins. Still, it takes the horse another couple minutes to slow to a canter. Wanting to steer back to her father, she shortens up on the right rein and brings her hand to her belly. The horse turns its head but continues to gallop forward. She pats him reassuringly and continues to apply pressure to turn. Though he slows to a trot, he shakes his head and brays in defiance. After exhausting himself, he finally slows enough to turn.

Huffing, Henri slows to track hoof prints. He notes other prints, not the titanosaurs’, but almost as large. These are clear, three-toed outlines of sharp claws for tearing belonging to a tall, two-legged animal.

As he pursues Xanadu, Henri sees movement in the trees. Flyers screech away. Fully alert, he hears, among the drone of insects, the crack of a twig. And then another. A blood-red streak stealthily approaches through the thick, olive forest. He grips the hilt of his trusted sword and hastens his pace.

Collette lets Xanadu rest a moment before turning him around, petting and talking to him to reassure him and herself, Come on. Xanadu. Let’s find Dad. He’ll explain what this is all about. Don’t be scared. We’re fine. No one’s after us. See, we’re safe. Nothing to fear here. All the while, she remains tense, her free hand grasping the grip of her foil.

She notices the three-toed tracks and knows she’s lying. She decides it’s best to remain quiet. She snaps a picture of the prints and sends them to the others as she sends a distress signal. She pulls out her foil, remaining fully alert as she searches for her father. She nervously scans the forest, trembling at every fluttering leaf and cracking twig.

Henri spots the pair and runs to them. Xanadu weaves, then stomps and brays nervously. Collette tries to lower his head to keep him still. It’s only Dad, Xanadu. Calm down. She holds her hand out to her father, getting Xanadu to pause just a couple meters away.

Out of the forest, without warning, a massive beast, a lizard with a head half the size of Collette, charges on its powerful hind legs straight for Xanadu and Collette. A mullet of scarlet feathers tops its oversized head, neck, and tail. A huge jaw, with rows of large canines, opens to grasp its prey.

The faster horse rears and bolts again, with Collette barely able to hold on.

Anyone else would have fled to the forest to hide. But that is not Henri’s way. He pulls out his sword and rushes in to intercept the beast. Montjoie! he shouts, This way you coward. Get me instead!

III

Just before the Polyus lifted off, Tommy had stood, de-activating his camo suit in a lifeboat near the edge of murky water in a brackish marsh. His frame is pale and slim, drooping, hesitating to enter the amphibious three-passenger shuttle, the Chidiya. A struggling tech student, he’s more comfortable driving and repairing vehicles in the mines of Mars. Even more, he has a knack for repairing them. Here, he’s in dreary weather, wrinkling his nose at the pervasive smell of rotten-eggs and brushing away the myriad flying insects. Even worse, he has to face Emma again after having wrecked her baby. He pops his head into the Chidiya and stammers, Um, I got the crane all hooked up. Ready to shove out?

Yah. I have everything secure in here, Emma, a stunning redhead even in coveralls, says in her usual no-nonsense voice. The take-off thrusters are definitely busted beyond what this little 3-D printer can handle. So, no boost there. Are you sure the crane is strong enough to hoist us out of the water?

I’m sure.

"At least the landing gear’s repaired. We should be able to roll the Chidiya back to the Polyus. I think I can even start the engine, but I’d rather be sure it’s operating properly before we do further damage." They had been toiling a few hours to repair the damage. Marauding aquatic mosasaurs and plesiosaurs made repairs to the underside precarious. Emma found that, by electrocuting the water, she could drive these carnivorous reptiles away for at least fifteen minutes.

Right. I can tow all the way.

Emma gets in the pilot seat. This better work. Let’s go.

Tommy heads out to the crane.

At the sound of the Polyus’ lift-off, he looks and gasps, "Looks like the Polyus, but can’t be." He steps back to the Chidiya.

The Chidiya’s radar alerts Emma to the Polyus rocketing overhead. She shouts out to Tommy, What the hell? Watch this!

On her wristband, she calls, "Emma to Polyus. Come in."

She pauses for a response. Static.

Maybe it’s outta range, suggests Tommy.

That soon? Emma calls using the Chidiya’s long-range radio.

They wait for a response but receive none.

Shouldn’t it pick up? asks Tommy.

Yes, unless the radio’s malfunctioning. I didn’t have time to test it yet. She tries again anyway. "Emma to Polyus. Camille, come in."

No response.

What the…

Emma’s heart races. Maybe they had to maneuver out of here quick. Maintain radio silence. She reviews the data from all the sensors for clues as to what may have caused their starship to speed away.

Find anything?

No, nothing out there. If the Nolochs are back, we’d be sitting ducks in here. And I don’t like this. Sensors indicate that the level of hydrogen sulfide is constant—tolerable — but the local levels of sulfur dioxide and hydrochloric acid are increasing. They’re not yet toxic, but they’re increasing. Must be moving in with the wind.

IV

Slow down! shouts Daniel Mason, a massive, scarred ex-cop now retraining as an emergency technician, over the loud, aggressive virtuosic music.

He and the slender, resolute Special Agent Vincent Foxx sit in the front seats of the extended cab of the super dump truck with Foxx at the main controls. Both are wearing camo suits—as is Guillaume, a Viking-like French metal worker, squeezed into the back seat of the extended cab, with their laser weapons and alien gadgets. Further back are mechanisms and raincoats tossed over tools and supplies.

They can sense the power of the rumbling behemoth. Above the brawny, royal-blue cab are solar panels fueling the 4,000-horsepower engine and, in back, a five-meter-long, heavy-duty dump body covered with a solar-cell-infused tarp. Sturdy horizontal bars extend the length of the walls, forming a ladder. The chassis is set in eight huge, off-road, all-wheel drive, pivoting tires. Through the muddy terrain, with a load of barrels and anything else from