Kingdoms Away 1: Jorian Cluster Archives Read online

  Kingdoms Away

  1

  The Joiran Cluster Archive

  S. V. Brown

  Copyright 2016 S. V. Brown

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Notes

  This novella has been professionally proofread. The author emphasizes that any mistakes found are due to a few changes and additions made after the proofing process.

  “To err is Human; to Forgive, Divine.” Alexander Pope, 1711.

  Please Read

  Thank you for reading this soft science fiction story. It contains characters who represent all walks of life and echoes many issues that are currently found on Earth today.

  I dedicate my first book to my mother.

  Please - check out my website for all downloading options

  http://selinavalenbrown.com/

  Table of Contents

  Gator Man

  The Short Goodbye

  Charles

  New Instinct

  Old Betrayals

  Man is Wolf to Man (Plautus, Asinaria)

  Frantic

  Predators Become Prey

  The Bigger Piranha

  Kings Are Just Men

  The Search Begins

  Forcing the Truth with Lies

  The Heroic Heroes

  People of the Caves

  Cradol or Not

  The First Clue

  Correlations in Unexpected Places

  Day Dreamer

  Me, My Ancestor and I

  Games

  Kingly Deceptions

  Trimador Rebellion

  Unexpected Benefits

  Wildness Within

  About Selina Valen Brown

  Other titles by S. V. Brown

  Connect with S. V. Brown

  Taster for Aislant Archive

  It is I, Tyerineothia

  Animalia rise up

  Animalia spy

  Animalia report

  Animalia attack

  It is I, Tyerineothia, who commands it

  Excerpt from the Joiran Cluster Archives, the Third Hostility

  Gator Man

  {[MILKY WAY] [Earth] [Bogotà]

  [21/06/2032] [n2˚, w73˚]}

  The Earth, once a beautiful jewel in the Milky Way, was ruined. Pockmarked surfaces on the land, cries of beasts caged and whipped, and abuses of unimaginable kinds were increasing exponentially. Al Reos bent down and patted his bush dog, Charles, absently on the head. “At least you’ll be safe, old buddy.” Charles wagged his bushy tail. He had brownish-tan fur that was soft to touch, much like Al’s own soft brown hair. Not that Al played with his own hair much. “We’ve got plenty at least.” He straightened up and resumed his musing. They were in his plain square office and Al was studying paper maps stuck to his pin board. He marked off the last of the animal habitats to be evacuated and dismantled just west of the installation he worked in.

  The Earth could no longer sustain the inhabitants and Al pushed away the shame of having left his family to starve. Plants and animals everywhere were bending to breaking point under the heavy regime of greed and lack of foresight; everywhere except Al’s new home. What sort of man brought his dog but not his wife and kids?

  Al rubbed his chin, trying to focus. Earth’s decay could no longer hide under the petticoats of deceit. Social structures were breaking down. The foundations of life itself were eroding away. Individual Third World countries no longer existed; they were all Third World now. He had considered injecting his family with an agent that would send them to sleep and kill them. Kinder in some ways but he couldn’t do that either. For weeks he’d been trapped in some kind of mental paralysis, unable to make up his mind. And then, on a bright Sunday morning, he up and left in his old pickup with Charles wagging his tail and hanging his head out the window.

  It was obvious in Al’s mind he was returning to thoughts of his family because it was the Year of the Tiger, as Dr. Chen would say, and it was time to go. They weren’t just leaving the planet, family and friends; they planned to abandon all religion, cultures, traditions and any preconceived notions that did not align with their goals. And because of that his good friend Chen was using up as many sayings as he could. Somehow Chen managed to annoy all two hundred and sixty-five scientists, fifty-six individually hand-selected special force members, and Al teased him that included the variety of animals—who ran away when Chen approached—and all of them were going to escape Earth’s slow decay. Al admired animals more than humans so they received the “who” tag. The teams were practical though; they never allowed sentimentality to prevent them from obtaining exactly what they needed to achieve the twenty-six-year objective.

  Bogota was dangerous yet beautiful. It was one of the few places left on the Earth to be relatively untouched. This was ironic considering what went on there; that the very pit of hell would be the gateway for a better future. Al almost sent for his family to live in one of the villages but found out they’d been killed in a gang war. No one knew what happened to the bodies, but it was rumored they’d all burned to a crisp. News just wasn’t the same anymore, as even gang wars had become boring, common events that barely raised concern. He barely shed a tear.

  Al left the office, with Charles padding along beside him, switching off the lights and closing the door with a thud. After some minutes of walking down empty dimly lit corridors, he entered a massive, partially underground hangar. He leaned on a cold steel rail looking at the goliath. The Tun and Tunuen, and related technologies, were constructed secretly for the long journey from the Milky Way. They’d struggled for years with travel distances, acceleration and environmental issues, and materials to make space travel viable when suddenly they made massive leaps in their research. Since history revealed that most evolutionary, or even creation, events transpired this way, no one questioned it too much. The trigger, it was discussed, was that Earth was at breaking point heralding the change in direction—they were desperate. Doggedly the scientists worked twelve-hour rotations, taking little time off for recreation. Science was going to be their all-consuming way, their god, so to speak. The Tun wasn’t a sleek-looking vessel but it was functional. It was one gigantic rocket and its only purpose was to lift them out into space to dock with the real beauty, in orbit, waiting for them. The Tunuen was a sleek vessel in the shape of a stingray and had been built entirely in space. Al didn’t want to know the details of their “Tun Lift-off,” but geologists assured them that sitting on a magma chamber was just fine. Sure it was. They had some technology that would harness the energy they needed, when they needed, for a little boost. Of course the geologists and physicists had all laughed at some joke that no one else found funny. Al had left the room after that, wondering if they were all just going to die on the countdown launch, “Lift-off.” Either way they would no longer be a part of Earth and her broken social systems. They’d become a part of the flotsam in space unless they didn’t actually get high enough a
nd crashed back on the surface instead. No doubt plunderers would battle over the burning remains.

  “Come on, Charles.” They walked across the metal walkway and exited through a door that led to the main labs. It was busier here, closer to the Tun. Guards nodded to him as he walked by, and one bent down to pat Charles on the head. Al and Charles had to go through several checkpoints. The risk of breaching their secure location fortified the scientists into keeping any new discoveries quiet. Some had objected—halfheartedly—to the concealment, claiming that many still remaining and functional civilizations would benefit from their research. Civilizations? They were barely that and it had been easy to overrule the transient do-gooders.

  At the last checkpoint a guard smiled as he opened the door. “Late night, Dr. Reos?”

  “Yes, I needed to check on the fish.” The water habitats were being drained into the surrounding regions. There was a fifty percent chance one of the villages lower in the valley would be flooded but they needed to take the habitat enclosures with them.

  The guard nodded grinning at Al’s real meaning. Fish meant sharks. He glanced down at Charles. “How’s the old boy now he’s infused with attites?”

  “Healthy as. Remarkable adaptation as evident in all the animals. Instinctive activation.”

  “Wish we were so lucky.”

  Al was about to walk by him but paused. As he gazed into the guard’s eyes the guard laughed. “Sorry, no luck either?”

  “You know the drill.”

  “Yeah, I am a blank slate. I am a blank slate.”

  Al laughed because they were told by some biochemical technician that they should be able to send and receive messages, mind to mind, when the attites were deactivated, caused by some kind of perpetual chemical reaction between attite bonds. They moved into the small room for decon. Charles sat by the guard’s feet, looking more interested in taking a nap than sharing the guard’s duties. The door closed and sealed behind him. He stripped and placed his clothes in a locker that sealed closed.

  Attite technology had been unleashed several years ago and injected into all those going on the journey. Attites forged onto their cellular structures, giving them the ability to endure acceleration and de-acceleration procedures. Tiny new strands of nerves were encouraged to grow from vital attite components added in to specifically create a network that connected from the spinal cord and then directly to the brain. They only had to think of protection and the attites went to work interconnecting to form cellular armor.

  After the decontamination sequence he dressed in loose pants and top, with slipper-like shoes. He waited for the light to go green. Only five people taken from surrounding villages died during the experimentation stage. It was hailed as a great success and those who lived were given a rare opportunity to join the scientists, or die. Of course, they weren’t told they would die; just if they wanted to return to their family they would fall prey to one of the many evils of the world, and there was so much to choose from. Al had sat at one compulsory meeting to utter a judgement statement. They all shared those jobs, rostered on like it was canteen duty, except they cleaned the ranks, not the dishes.

  One zoologist came up with a variation of an old counting rhyme. “Eeny meeny, miny, moe, catch a human by the toe, if he/she hollers, let he/she go, and then let’s kill ’em so.”

  The light blinked and then green light shone into the chamber. The door swung open and he moved to the closest bench. Attite armor had other interesting possibilities but they focused on what it achieved to get them off the hell hole. The only dysfunction, not that he considered it that, concerning the attites was regarding the fact that they would replicate spontaneously using mineral composites found in the body. Tests had to be conducted regularly to ensure individuals were not low on certain vitamins or minerals. Some scientists worried that attites would overflow in their bodies, but they were reassured that the data had been based on normal cellular rejuvenation. The results showed there were never more attites than cells.

  Around him several other scientists were quietly working at benches that spread out in all directions, ignoring him. He was known as “Gator-man,” who was more worried about the animals than people. It was all true and he righted his gator sign again. Someone kept knocking the image of his face on an ape’s body down. It was a small token of dedication to Charles Darwin, as was calling his dog “Charles.” He was used to the snide remarks and only came to the attite labs to check that his animals weren’t being used for experimentations. He had been the one who demanded human trials, and so they made him go with the soldiers to collect specimens. He considered his colleagues all bastards and bitches anyway, as they were as cold-hearted as he was in many ways. At least he loved something other than science. Most loved themselves more than science anyway. He used the old-school mouse to bring up his files. His colleagues had given him ancient technology and had snickered until they realized he wasn’t frustrated with it. Of course Al simply had his computer whiz friends put new tech in the old box casings—but they left in the old tech. Al just made sure he switched over to “his” system and then back again to the old crap once done.

  When it was discovered that attite technology, or AT as some called it, would be passed down to their descendants, many came to the realization that there was no turning back. As the children grew it was found that the attites integrated far more successfully into them than those that had been inoculated. This added justification that destroying the test subjects, those who decided to return to their villages, had been the best option. The last thing they wanted to do was create a super-human who would take over the Earth or suffer for well beyond their normal mortality. Only one mechanical engineer suggested that they might improve Earth and, after a second’s silence, everyone had burst out laughing. Red-faced, the mechy held up his hands, surrendering to the majority. Actually, Al mused, the “suffer” consideration was only a fourth consideration. In truth, they were leaving and they really didn’t care what happened to Earth or humans. They had all supported that vote and went to enjoy a lovely reception afterwards.

  Al accessed files to check on the last animals who had bred. They had the same results as humans. Attites were a part of the DNA codes and written in right from the start. Neural scientists found neuron and nerve fibers were far more sensitive to the mental commands of children, and young animals. No programming of the attites was required; all the information had been passed down genetically, from the parents to the fetus. During pregnancy, and then later throughout the growth of the child, extra vitamins and minerals had to be ingested to ensure the successful multiplication of attites.

  With every new step and success, they grew closer to achieving their goals. The world around continued in its ignorance and ebbed away to its rhythmic ruin. Of course, they still kept tabs on what was occurring, as ignorance would be akin to suicide. There was never anything new, just the same old pattern of mismanagement. Al was satisfied all was in order and checked the hacked files Chen sent him. Mostly they were of areas Al couldn’t get into but Chen could. So far no animals from his collection were used for experiments. He called his animals the “rocketeers” because saying “ark animals” was too close to religious teachings and certainly he and the others weren’t being noble.

  Al clicked around his screen closing files and prepared to switch his system across again. Even with the personality clashes they were united in one thing: he and the others were sick of the games played by governments all around the world. Of course they understood that without superior authorities all would fall into bedlam and that some sort of order had to be established. So they applied this knowledge and elected a group of all-rounders, whom they named The Tunuen Coalition. As a leading anthropologist computer geek Chen was invited but Al wasn’t. It didn’t matter; Chen reported the goings on anyway so Al could focus on his job. He trusted Chen.

  Their base had increased in size over time in the vast area South East of Bogotà. The region was perfect. The clima
te was warm with rain but not overly humid. The area was sparsely populated; in fact, they were the only ones within miles. Chen had been visiting a large village of densely packed huts when he was captured by some drug dealers. Al had seen and strolled over casually on the dirt road, and stood staring until the four large tattooed men backed away.

  “What’s with them?” Al asked, casually noting people disappearing into their little huts.

  Chen scratched his head and then laughed. “I think it’s that fucking alligator next to you.”

  Al glanced down at the gator on a leash looking like a log with teeth. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about him. He missed lunch.”

  Chen backed away, his almond eyes wary but amused. “Well, don’t look at me.” He smiled then, shaking his head. “You and your animals.”

  Since then he and Chen had been best buds.

  The Coalition only had to deal with the rampant underground organizations to obtain their supplies. They were producing superior, illegal plants for recreational or business use, and the money they acquired via secret visits to these organizations procured the necessities, provided protection and maintained concealment. After Chen’s colorful tales of “Al and the gator” he developed a reputation and not just inside the installation. Villages spread the word too and that’s when he became, “The Gator Man”.

  The Short Goodbye

  One morning Al woke and smiled, looking across at his calendar. The final day. They tied up loose ends. They blocked out externals by cutting off all communications as they busied themselves with final preparations. Al packed up his things, with Charles padding along behind with a chew toy in his mouth. It was a green gator made by Chen’s boyfriend. Guards smiled and nodded to them as they made their last trip into the Tun on the fifteenth deck. He walked along the strange passage that was actually an access tube, used a ladder that could become a wall depending on which way was the right way up. He entered his small cabin where everything was sealed into cupboards that could and would pivot. He packed up the rest of his things, and closed the last hatch. Peering down, he saw Charles sitting and waiting for him in the tube entrance. Charles had to be placed with the other animals, in deep sleep in special chambers. Most of the species were in special embryo tubing, ribbons and ribbons for each species kept in four different locations. But Al had been given permission to wake a number of creatures as prescribed by the psychologist on board. “We’ll need the companionship.” She’d looked at Al with a twinkle in her eye. “Not the gator.”