The Great Fathers Awaken

By Kevin Warrick Fitzgerald

Cellier Raphaël is a miner of precious metals, with nothing to mine. The Earth has been tapped out. But, when Professor Henre' Tutu announces her invention of a faster than light engine, Raphaël sees his chance. He sells his company and all of its assets, liquidates his investments and buys all the stock in Tutu's company he can afford. When Tutu's engine proves successful, his stock is worth a fortune.
The moment a star liner becomes available in his price range, Raphaël sells his stock, buys a star liner, hires a crew and goes prospecting through the galaxy. They score an incredible amount of gold and platinum and become rich. On their second trip out to mine the silver and copper, they come across a planet being bombarded by alien ships with vastly superior firepower and stealth technologies.
Raphaël visits another planet that has been destroyed, then another Earth colony has been destroyed, but the aliens, who come to be known as the HHaakk, have built a base on that planet with three of their war ships parked on the ground. Raphaël makes a plan and he and his people kill the aliens, steal those ships and take them to Vega colony. An Earth admiralty is formed.
Raphaël takes one of the hijacked alien ships out and, after being stuck a null zone for thirty-four days, discovers another aliens race being annihilated by the HHaakk, then recruits a total of nine other alien races into an Alliance with Earth and a ship building program begins.
Raphaël falls in love with Jullie Matisse, a doctor at the colony infirmary.
Raphaël is given the first Earth Alliance battleship and is sucked through a worm hole and discovers another benevolent race with superior technologies, just as the HHaakk attack them. He manages to get back to their side of the galaxy to warn the Alliance.
Will they believe him? Can the Alliance build enough ships to protect themselves?
The HHaakk attack.
As the war rages, Raphaël and his crew discover that the HHaakk are sending missiles into Alliance space loaded with a plague designed to wipe out all carbon-based life.
Can the Alliance win a protracted war? Can Raphaël and his crew stop the plague?

The Great Fathers Awaken ~ 94 k words.
The first of three Captain Cellier Raphaël novels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Warrick Fitzgerald
• Release date: May 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781735600055

Kevin Warrick Fitzgerald

Mr. Fitzgerald lives south of Columbus, Ohio, and is hard at work on his next book.

Book preview

296

THE GREAT FATHERS AWAKEN

Kevin Warrick Fitzgerald

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THE GREAT FATHERS AWAKEN

About 94,000

Copyright © 2023, Kevin Warrick Fitzgerald

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The Great Fathers Awaken

The first of three Captain Cellier Raphaël novels

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THE GREAT FATHERS AWAKEN

Prologue

All was completely black, still and silent as it had been for millennia when a large portion of one wall came crashing in and dazzling white light flooded into a cavernous void from the grottos beyond. Three humanoid silhouettes stepped into the opening and paused. A dozen more humanoids ran past them through the hole and positioned long light sticks on the floor periodically, illuminating everything brilliantly.

The first three walked into the amphitheater, their silvery skin glittering as it reflected the light from the sticks. Ponk wore a gold cloak, Ginnetek a blue toga, Farrer an orange robe. All three gazed in astonishment, wonder alive in their faces. They turned around several times before they realized they were standing at ground level in the middle of a circular stone floor with a radius of a hundred meters. Sweeping up and away from them were fifty progressively recessed stone row benches circling the floor for two-hundred-and-seventy degrees.

Behind them a curved wall, taking up the remaining ninety degrees, rose until it was lost in the gloom. It was perfectly smooth except for many carved runes. The ceiling, a hundred meters above them, was rough-hewed stone.

Ponk's voice echoed off the walls. Can it be? After all these years and light years and researching every scroll?

Ginnetek breathed, The Hall of Memories. At last.

The very room where the kings of our people held court for twelve thousand years, Ponk whispered in reverence.

And where our ancestors created the first library six thousand years ago. Ginnetek added with awe in his voice.

Ponk hissed in astonishment, That has been lost to us for two thousand years.

Farrer rushed over to the wall and caressed the runes as she spoke. By the bones of my ancestors. Our quest is at an end! Here is the ancient character for the Great Fathers, our first and greatest deities. This series of representations clearly recount when the Great Fathers descended from the heavens and made themselves known to us. And on this star chart over here, she moved to her left, is the planet D'ravasasz, where we are now. Which means that over here are both of our home planets. So, she slid further to her left, "this . . . must be . . . the . . . location of . . . the Great Father's home planet." She inhaled sharply.

By all the slime in all the seas. Ginnetek trembled with the import. We now possess the most wonderful and terrible secret in our history. We must inform the Grand Prefect immediately.

CHAPTER ONE

Six Earth Years Later

Like many of the world-changing events throughout history, everyone on planet Earth knew where they were when they heard the news. It would presage a startling transformation of basic human existence and behavior, and everyone knew it the moment they heard it.

Cellier Raphaël was in his home, in his office, at his desk, staring straight ahead, bored out of his mind. Like usual, these days.

A shiny six by eight foot topographic map of the entire state of Alaska in brilliant false colors was pinned up on the left hand wall. It didn't have a wrinkle on it. The back wall had framed prints of Ansel Adams, nine in all. Four of the pictures descended in size on each side of the large center one. The black and white prints were similarly framed in bold layers of straight, flat black, rough wrought iron. The right hand wall consisted of stacks of electronic equipment; amplifiers, receivers, transponder changers, recorders, CPUs, others. His desk faced an entire wall of transparent glass looking out across the vast Sognefjord, from his home outside Torvund, Norway. A view he never tired of.  Especially the never-ending variety of weather, from the blackest, most terrible of the raging storms, to the brightest of the sparkling, sunny days.

Four flat screen video monitors faced him on his oversized desk. A foot cubed audio monitor was positioned between the video monitors, three in all. Three keyboards, one beside the other, and two mice, both on the same pad, were lined up in front of him. Each video monitor had numerous video and telemetry feeds in a score of brilliant colors  that his three drones, skimming the ocean bottom four hundred miles off the Tasmanian coast, looking tell-tales, were transmitting back to him. And all that information added up to the same thing. The same thing it had added up to for a long time.

In a word, nothing.

Raphaël's company was basically mining.

He had been the chief designer of a system good at finding, then unearthing, precious metals, especially gold, silver, copper and platinum, and rare earths, especially neodymium, yttrium, praseodymium and terbium, at depth, and formed a company, Rare Earths. The trouble was, the Earth had been tapped out. After numerous early successes that had put money in the company's coffers, nothing. There were simply no more precious metals or rare earths left that could be found and mined. He wasn't hurting financially, not yet, in fact he had a tidy nest egg, but it couldn't last forever, especially paying the monthly fees for the transponders he was leasing off the satellites. As things stood, and had been standing for some time, he was going to have to get another job unless something turned up soon. And prospects looked bleak. He had had to furlough his remaining employees last year on the promise to rehire them as soon as the satellites or his drones found something, but for thirteen months, nothing.

When, in the bottom of the left hand corner of the left hand monitor, an orange circle appeared announcing a news alert from one of the services that he subscribed to. He clicked on it, like he had a thousand times, like it was nothing . . . and his life, and indeed the entire planet, and the whole Alpha Quadrant of the Orion-Cygnus spiral arm of the Milky Way galaxy would be forever altered. And the changes would come rapid fire, in a few short years, with an incredible loss of life.

He read the proclamation once and he couldn't believe it. He reread it again and a third time before he began to understand its import.

Professor Henre` Tutu in South Africa had invented a trans-light engine. Or so she claimed. Capable of transporting weight and mass at warp speeds.

Raphaël's whole body trembled as the implications flooded over him. But . . .

Had Tutu really invented such a thing? Could it all be a hoax? he asked himself over and over, ever the skeptic.

Raphaël looked up Tutu online. Impressive credentials. Notable personal life. Imposing history of accomplishments.

Was she the type of person who would risk her reputation on a deception? Raphaël wondered. No, certainly not, he decided. So, he reasoned, the professor truly believed that she had discovered a pathway to the stars. And, if a woman like that believed it, he believed it too.

He imagined mighty space ships powered by her engine colonizing nearby planets. Humans heading off world in droves.

But, he must be skeptical. Mustn't act hastily.

He recalled his drones to the ship he was leasing. The ship gathered the drones aboard and set sail for Hobart. He made arrangements for the drones to be stored in a local warehouse and canceled his lease on the ship.

Then he settled in to play the waiting game and read everything printed about the subject.

The news of her discovery was greeted with open skepticism to utter cynicism to complete contempt, and Tutu became the subject of global derision. The press around the world scoffed at her claims. It seemed no one believed her, except a few whose voices were overwhelmed by the screams from the tawdry press. Day after day she was ridiculed and called every name. Way-too fanciful. A wistful dreamer. Completely insane. Needs psychiatric help. Badly. Totally psychotic.

Raphaël read every article.

Undeterred, Tutu formed a corporation, the Hand Company, and announced that she would enter her company on the WWSE, the World Wide Stock Exchange, within the week to raise funds to build a prototype.

Raphaël's whole body tingled with anticipation, for he knew exactly what that meant, what he should do, and that he needed to do it as soon as possible. His path suddenly lay open in front him as clear as a sweet running brook. He wasn't even sure why he was so confident that Tutu had actually done it, but something deep in his soul vibrated with the certain knowledge.

Over the next week he liquidated his investments, sold his company, all of its assets, everything, in fact, except his home and a closet full of clothes. He wanted someplace to lick his wounds if his investment went south . . .

. . . and awaited the moment.

The instant the Hand Company stock became an IPO, he put in his order. Buy. With every cent he had. He watched with bated breath all morning as the price of the stock rose steadily. By noon it was all over. Every available stock the Hand Corporation had issued had been bought, even though the price had gone straight up over those three hours. So, he wasn't the only one who believed the South African professor.

Raphaël was pleased. He had gotten in before the price skyrocketed. That was good. On paper he had made a wise investment. But what would his stocks be worth if Tutu's supposed marvel didn't fly? Zilch. Could it all have been a hoax to steal the billions the investors had poured into it?

Now Raphaël could only play the waiting game, again, anxiously. If he lost everything, he still owned his home, outright. If necessary, it could be a place to launch himself. He could get a job in mining and/or manufacturing somewhere.  Start all over again. Prove his worth. Advance. Open his own shop. Work hard. Undercut the competition. Acquire a reputation for the best quality at a reasonable price. Make his new company grow, then sell it and retire. Slip under his rock. Simplify. Be in a position where the world couldn't hurt him. Become completely comfortable and smile, smile, smile.

The Hand Company's press relations people kept its stockholders, and the world, up on their progress through the months as they manufactured their ship. There were almost always some new developments each day, except for Sundays. Raphaël kept up conscientiously. He studied the blueprints they posted, being an engineer himself, and was heartened. What they were doing was well past his area of expertise, but it seemed plausible. Possible. Probable? He couldn't find any fault with it, anyway.

Seven months, two weeks and two days later, the Hand Company's stockholders, special guests and a wide smattering of the world's press were invited to Hanger E at the Nelson Mandela Airport outside of Johannesburg, South Africa, for the unveiling of Tutu's invention.

Raphaël, actually wearing a handsome pin-striped suit, was waiting outside Hanger E on that fateful, chilly, windless, August afternoon with hundreds of others, milling around, many speaking in low tones. He wouldn't miss this.

At the appointed time, the immense door to the enormous hanger slowly started swinging open. As soon as there was enough room, people rushed in, anxious to be the first to see it.

Raphaël wanted to avoid the crush so was almost the last to enter. When he caught sight of it, he stopped and gawked. At one point he realized his mouth had sagged open and he quietly closed it. There she was. Tutu's prototype engine inside the body of a sleek spacecraft.

Raphaël sighed. The future was blossoming right in front of his eyes. That ship. So beautiful. He was glad he had gotten in on the ground floor and was riding the crest of this new technology that was fashioning the future so quickly.

He had studied the blueprints, knew what to expect, but it still surprised him.

The single, main fuselage was cylindrical, barrel-shaped, tapering to a pointed nose and a cut off tail stood upright. There were two short, swept back wings and twelve steering fins, three at the base, three a third of the way up its body and six more a third of the way down from the nose. Thirty-five feet high. Twenty-four feet in diameter at the widest. A four foot wide, clear view screen wrapped all the way around the fuselage ten feet down from the nose. Raphaël wanted to sneak up on the platform, climb under the body and see the engine, at least the bottom of it, but it was roped off. Surely it had plenty of security, he reasoned. Didn't want to upset them. Cause a scene? Not him.

It was painted completely gold, and with the hundreds of white arc lights hitting it from every angle, it was magnificently striking. The rich gold color was so like the element, the ship appeared to be made of the substance.

Tutu called his craft the "Venture." It was packed with all kinds of equipment and instruments to document every detail of its journey. There was a cabin in the nose to take three passengers on this historical journey. Volunteers wanting to be the first to travel faster than the light barrier. Raphaël had read all about them, two women, one man, their past, families, education, the unbelievably rigorous training they went through. They had become an inspiration to many around the world.

Yet, some wondered if this wasn't a suicide mission.

Tutu's team ever-so-slowly rolled the ship out onto a launch pad. After the witnesses had been bused to the observation gallery a couple of kilometers away, they launched the ship. Raphaël couldn't hear the engine, which surprised him. That much power was quiet, but the shock waves from the thrust did rattle the transparent walls of the gallery.

Earth borne and space satellites closely followed the ship from liftoff to when it attained a stable orbit. Raphaël watched it all on the huge video monitor on the side wall of the gallery, Then, right on cue, the ship suddenly disappeared, as if it had attained trans light speed. Ever the doubter, he wasn't sure if he could actually believe what he saw. Video on a monitor. Anyone can make anything look real.

Raphaël flew home and watched the flight unfold from the comfort of his living room.

The Venture continually transmitted back to Earth every possible bit of telemetry information about her voyage, and many people, scientists and mathematicians kept an eye on all that information. Day after day the ship flew at what were apparently ever increasing speeds, but it took time to process so much data.

Eleven days later, hundreds of reporters from all over the globe witnessed the Venture's picture-perfect reentry into Earth's atmosphere and her landing at Gerrand International Airport outside of Paris, France. Raphaël had stayed home for that, but watched it live on TV.

Two days later the news was out. The telemetry information from the Venture indicated that the ship had circumnavigated Earth's solar system in precisely one hundred and thirty-eight point-one-six solar hours, exactly the time it would take at the speed of light. Then it circumnavigated the solar system in sixty-nine point-oh-eight hours, the time it would take at twice the speed of light. Then in thirty-four point-five-four hours, at four times the speed of light.

The results were widely criticized as a deception. Many sources claimed that the spacecraft simply regurgitated those trajectories and speeds that it had been preprogrammed with.

Raphaël read one article that particularly intrigued him. It said, "With the complete visual and telemetry record made by Tutu's starship, named the Venture, astronomers around the world can verify the flights and times by correlating the position of the celestial bodies within our solar system with stars, clusters and galaxies outside our solar system, with the known position of the space craft. Then, and only then, can the faster than light properties of this spacecraft be proven." Raphaël knew that that information could not be faked.  

The world held its communal breath. It took three days for the reports to come flooding in from all over as many scientists had taken it upon themselves to check every detail of the Venture's flight logs. Everyone agreed. It was unmistakable. The Venture had indeed circumnavigated the solar system three times. The first flight was at the speed of light. The other two flights were at twice the speed of the previous one.

Within a week, the Hand Company's stock split, then split again.

Raphaël was a wealthy man. He was ecstatic. He had done it. Following a feeling had really paid off. But prosperity was relative; he knew that as well as anyone. He also knew that his new-found wealth was only a means to an end. For his plan to come to fruition, he had to wait, and wait, and not be impatient, for no one could buy one before he could. Hopefully. It was simply a matter of when and how much they were going to be.

He knew that over the past few centuries astronomers had found thousands of planets in the Milky Way galaxy, a fair percentage of them habitable. And he knew that among them would be all sorts of geologic formations, and that a spiral arm-wide gold hunt would begin as soon as commercial starships became available.

And he was determined to lead the charge.

But, he needed to be ready. Plan. Recruit the right people with the proper skills in programming, geology, mining, equipment repair and mechanics. That would be easy enough. They used to work for him.

But what about the rigors and dangers of space? And the geographical and geological properties of all those distant planets? They would need to answer a hundred questions that he didn't even know to ask yet.

But they could learn anything.

He grinned maliciously.

Raphaël placed a call to Susan Drawdy. A vice president of his company, a good friend and, among her many other duties, she programmed the drones and the satellites on how and what to look for. 

He told her his plan and concerns.

There was a long pause on the line while she thought. He allowed her all the time she needed, before she said, I know a man who might be able to help us. I don't know his availability, but I'll invite him to our meeting.

Both took a list of people who had worked for Raphaël's company, gave them a call and they all agreed to meet at the Denver Hilton a week from Monday. It was a good central location. Raphaël had to travel the farthest, but he didn't mind. He grew up outside of Colorado Springs. He still had family and friends there.

Walking into the Sterling Ballroom, one of the smaller conference rooms at the Denver Hilton, was like old home week for Raphaël. All fifteen former employees that he'd invited showed up and he hadn't seen many of them for over a year. They were mostly in their thirties and forties with varied expertises. He gave Susan a big hug. She wore a tie-dyed shirt, a pair of patched denims, Birkenstocks. Her thick brown hair streamed down to her waist that waved back and forth ever-so-gently whenever she moved. She proudly sported wide, alert brown eyes that shined in any light. Forty-two with a bachelors in Number Theories from Brown. She could encrypt and decrypt and program anything.

Then he went around hugging and/or shaking hands with everyone present.

A man Raphaël had never met walked up and Susan made the introductions. Cellier, this is Gilen Cadieux. Gilen, Cellier Raphaël.

Raphaël shook his hand and almost smiled. The men were very similar in age and looks. Anyone who didn't know them might think they were brothers, with Cadieux the more handsome. Both were six-one, about one ninety. Short brown hair. Long boned. Ropey muscles. Cadieux, thirty-four, had short sandy blond hair. Raphaël's hair was much darker. He was thirty-six. Although they looked similar, they had very different personalities, as they would find out. Different enough to complement each other well.

I understand you have a bachelor 's degree in aerospace engineering, Raphaël said.

Yes.

With a minor in trajectories, of all things.

Yes. But not much call for rocket scientists to plot trajectories these days, what with every major country bankrupt or on the verge thereof. So I've been working for the state of Alaska as a volcanologist helping them predict earthquakes and volcanic eruptions which have become much more common over the past few decades . . . as it turns out.

But things may change now, Raphaël said with a wry grin. "What with Tutu's engine transforming everything.

Yes, Cadieux said slowly with a grin of his own. And I believe I can help you with your plans.

The Thai food arrived and they all sat around the table and ate while they talked.

Raphaël started things off. The minute a commercial starship becomes available in my price range, I mean to sell my stock in the Hand Company, buy it, equip it with everything we'll need and go prospecting. And I want you, his eyes swept the people in the room, to come with me. We can begin with the obvious problem. How much will one of the star liners cost? We won't need anything too fancy, but still, the cheapest ship might be way out of my price range and all this might be academic.

Some of us might have some money to invest . .  a little, anyway? Susan volunteered.

I very much appreciate that . . . Raphaël waved his hand. We'll see. But let's say, for the sake of argument, that we can afford a ship. We are experts at mining anywhere on Earth from the deepest sea trench to the tallest mountain, but all of sudden . . . different planets? Let's brainstorm. What problems will we face? Please. He extended his hand to encourage everyone to speak their minds

There was a long pause, then Susan Drawdy said, We'll need a well-programmed low-level satellite. Powerful. Able to narrow its focus. They're not too expensive, easy to program. We'll need drones for water worlds. There are several good ones out on the market, also easy to program.

If we buy one, we might as well buy two to have backups, Cadieux said.

Raphaël wholeheartedly agreed. It added to the initial investment, but if they were going to do this, they were going to this right. No half-hearted measures.

Another planet might have a very caustic atmosphere, or hurricane winds that could destroy our equipment, and its oceans could be so base or acidic that they might be able to melt the drones, Anne Gillard said.

We're going to need fully equipped labs with telescopes, microscopes, analyzers, the works, Silva Credenza offered.

I hope the ships themselves will have those, Cadieux told the group. But if not . . . He left the thought hanging.

We're going to need a bevy of probes to send down once the satellite finds  something. Cartier Bevans suggested. Give us the exact pictures of what we need before we send down the equipment.

Maybe the probes can bring back samples. Always good to have a sample, Silvia Cadenza said.

How are we going to get our people and equipment down to the surface? Wendall Beeme asked.

I have no doubt, Cadieux ventured, that the new star ships will be able to ride atmospheres as well as deep space. He glanced at Raphaël. Which will increase the cost.

Then different people threw out their suggestions rapid fire.

We must account for different planetary crusts, mantels, strata, volcanology.

There might be rock strata on distant worlds much denser than that on Earth that our equipment simply can't get through.

Or, conversely, our equipment might sink right through the surface never to be seen again.

The planet might have no atmosphere, so our equipment will have to work in a vacuum environment.

Or on a tiny meteor in zero G.

Or extreme gravities that can flatten almost anything.

We must factor in the Ph values of everything.

We're going to need environmental suits. Sooner or later, someone is going to have to go out there and fix what's broken.

What about foods, medicines? Fun and games? There's going to be a lot of travel time.

How about hostile wildlife?

Raphaël chuckled at that. He hadn't thought along those lines. Then his brain got serious. Yeah. Bacteria. Viruses. Just because we haven't discovered new life yet . . . I'll bet it's out there.

We have to consider the possibility that someone might have already staked a claim on that planet and objects to our mining their planet.

Speaking of that. There's another thing we must keep in mind, Susan began. It's going to be the wild, wild west out there, all over again. If there's anything true about humans, if you have something, invent something, find something of value, there's always going to be someone willing to kill you for it. There's going to be no law, and no lawmen. It's hard to prosecute someone for murder when the body's been spaced.

Raphaël's chest tightened. He hadn't thought of that either.

The group brainstormed some more, added some things to the list they would need to mine other planets until they all agreed that there were going to be many things so different that they can't even guess at right now. They would have to solve problems on the fly.

There was a long pause.

Raphaël felt extremely overwhelmed until Cadieux broke the silence and put it into perspective for him. Yes, there are going to be countless differences, but with so many planets out there waiting for us, there are going to be similarities too. So, it seems to me that all we have to do is plan for the worst case scenarios and take each problem as we face it. And if the problems are too severe on one planet, we move on to the next one until we come to one that we can tackle.

Raphaël couldn't help notice that Cadieux was using words like us and we, like he had already decided to join the group. Raphaël had a knack for judging people, could feel good vibes and bad. And he liked Cadieux immediately. Felt they could work well together.

And, of course, Raphaël began, We need to find which planets, those closest, that have had a geological past similar enough to Earth, that would be the easiest and quickest to get to. And, which ones are farther away, that are barely within a reasonable range, that we might be able to get to first. Find them all and prioritize before we ever hit space.

Raphaël looked around and saw everyone nodding at that. He nodded too, in agreement with himself. "So, here comes the tough part. I'll ask for volunteers because I'm broke and can't afford to pay you right now. First, we need to do a lot of research. We'll break the research down into teams. Then, if for any reason it's all for naught, I'll sell some stock and pay you nicely for your