Spacescape

  SPACESCAPE

  Nigel Clayton

  Published in Australia by

  Meni Publishing and Binding in 2007

  www.meni.com.au

  Copyright © Nigel Clayton t/as Meni Publishing and Binding, 2008

  Nigel Clayton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author and owner of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise; nor shall it be resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the prior permission of the copyright owner of this book.

  The National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:

  Jones, Anthony [pseudonym]. Spacescape. 1st ed.

  ISBN 978 0 9802985 9 8

  I. Title.

  A823.4

  Other titles by this author

  The Long Road to Rwanda

  Colonies of Earth

  Fall of the Inca Empire

  Inca Myths and Way of Life

  The Templar: and the City of God [Part 1 in the series]

  The Templar: and the Temple of Káros [Part 2]

  The Templar: and the Cross of Christ [Part 3]

  Amazon [Part 4 of the Templar series]

  Underworld

  Spacescape

  Space Opera – Heaven and Hell

  Tom of Twofold Bay

  The Zuytdorp Survivors

  Afghan

  Afghan: The Script

  Chivalry

  The Caves of Hiroshima

  Scourge

  The Cure

  Furious George

  This Pestilence, Bergen-Belsen

  Templar, Assassination, Trial & Torture

  Underworld

  Dreamtime - An Aboriginal Odyssey

  When the Virgin Falls

  Kibeho: Original Script

  The Kibeho Massacre: As It Happened

  Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien - No, I (We) Have No Regrets

  The Matter with Karen Mitchell

  Nigel joined the Australian Army in 1980 at age 17yrs and 2 months, and after completing training at Kapooka was whisked away to the School of Infantry, Singleton, New South Wales, Australia.

  He served in the Infantry until injury forced a medical discharge upon him in 1996, after having served in Southeast Asia, 1982; PNG (with the AATPT), in 1990: during the Bougainville Crisis; and in Rwanda, 1995: known world-wide for the Kibeho Massacre which occurred on April 22nd of that year.

  Serving in PNG was a major highlight within his career.

  He was married in 1999 and has two children.

  Food for thought

  CONTENTS

  Planet X

  The Sandman

  Water in the Sky with Diamond

  Skin Deep

  The Moon Stone

  The Gecko

  The Bringer of War

  Island of Lost Souls

  The Black Sea of Tranquillity

  Transition

  The City Underground

  Captured for Prosperity

  Extract from ‘Colonies of Earth’

  PLANET X

  4.5 billion years ago, when all was young in a galaxy of no name, there was the birth of 10 planets. Each of the planets gave way to its own path in evolution as each circled their star, a breathing ball of fire with a temperature upwards of 10,000,000 K. This star was created by way of nuclear fusion, four hydrogen atoms fusing into one of helium.

  It was back then that two of these planets just happen to share the same orbit. Pontus and Brantie were twins like no other. They were similar in every way except by appearance, and their characteristics of orbit. Brantie was two-thirds water and Pontus was nine parts land, and the only difference in their orbit was the fact that Pontus maintained a headway of 85 revolutions along its orbital path, and an inclination of just 23.4 degrees, being 0.1 outside that of Brantie’s plane of the ecliptic. Their perihelion and aphelion were the same.

  Although the planets were similar, the growth of life on each was vastly different, Pontus souring ahead. By the time Pontus was an estimated 4.35 billion years of age its civilisation had uncovered the secrets behind nuclear energy and the cure for cancer, and all intelligent life upon the surface of the planet believed in the existence of a single deity. Space travel for this single culture was at present of little importance, for they had vast lands for the cultivation of crops, and population explosion was unheard of. But time would change their manner of thought.

  It was at about this time in their life – when large beasts roamed the surface of Brantie – that a meteor approached from afar. It was also unfortunate that this hunk of rock was to cross the path of Pontus’ orbit prior to hitting into the very surface of Brantie, for this force catapulted Pontus from its path around the sun and into the far reaches of space. It did settle however, in a new orbit of the same system, but as the 10th planet from its star, the 7th past Brantie. The malignity that succumb from such an event saw to the delivery of the end of life as the Pontusian knew it and from that day fourth all were forced to become subsurface dwellers. They didn’t dig into the depths of the planet, but erected a shield above their existing home; a shield that was to make a prisoner of the much sought-after generated heat, a heat procured from the depths of the planet itself, from the very core that rotated within.

  A new way of life was now scored from Pontus.

  Rules of existence on the planet Pontus didn’t change over the next 65 million years. It had become steadfast in all concerns, ever since the catastrophe, a day considered by most as the day that Pontus was touched by the finger’s of Armageddon and then given a second chance at life. Space exploration, for the most part, was not even a contemplation of mind; it was even rumoured that forbearers to the great prophet Admantos had condemned such science as orbital ships and satellites; but these were needed for protection against threat of meteor strike – or so the argument went. Due to the incidents of years past, a potent lesson had been learnt: and that was written in all of the old texts.

  Due primarily to the planet’s atmospheric shield, life could be maintained. The shield was generated by giant towers; and if such a tower was to be hit by a meteor, or other descriptive debris, then the very air for which every Pontusian breathed would escape into the depths of aether void; allowing a chilling cold to cheat them all of life. This was another reason for the prophet’s concern, for what goes up must surely come down, and if any such space vessel was to plummet to Pontus, well; all would be damned.

  A watch however – even before the time of Admantos – was enforced and maintained upon Brantie, for it was coming out of its big sleep, and soon a being called the Neanderthal came to rise in stature across the plains of Brantie. In time these were eradicated by another being, and a stronger form of civilised life came to surface, a being whose overall appearance was very similar to that of their own.

  A warning had to be passed onto these beings, a warning for them to avoid the space boundaries of Pontus, for their sky was their life, and if this seal was breached, then vengeance would reap its own reward. And to this note, a decision was soon decided upon, by the Seven Heads, to venture through the folds of space, in order to lay visit upon the planet which at first was slow to blossom with the buds of new found life. The venture was to take place before the new civilisation grew too wise.

  But Admantos denounced any such action, as once this primitive world founded knowledge as to their existence, their very souls would become naked against any such military action to which Brantie chose to take in the future; for they too would discover the secrets behind space-flight.

  But Admantos had no choice, for as far as the other Heads were concerned, a w
arning had to be passed. For it was at about this time, and to the surprise of many upon Pontus, that Brantie gave to acceleration, and intelligence matured, wide and fast.

  A band of linguists was soon formed, each of which were capable of speaking seven of the old languages spoken on their home planet. It was a study of history so seldom sought by a Pontusian. Their mission was to pass onto the beings of Brantie the wishes of the Pontus government as finally laid down by Admantos. Such an agreement was to restrict all of Brantie’s space exploration to within the cordon created by their satellite White Dwarf. For this an exchange of the same courtesy, in respects to Pontus and their satellite of rock and dust, was to be founded and sealed. If a treaty couldn’t be agreed upon, then heinous war, due to infringement, would prevail.

  And so the linguists travelled through space and landed upon the planet, to do as they were requested, to pass on their laws and message; but the population of Brantie were not amused. The linguists were quite lucky, in fact, to escape with their lives, and on return to their own world a congregation of great thinkers came together, to share their thoughts on the matter, and with them they brought remnants of a lost civilisation.

  And it came to pass that the planet Brantie was given a new name, a name of distinction, one bestowed upon the planet by those that inhabited it. It was called, Planet Earth....

  THE SANDMAN

  Striking the ionosphere at 7.5 krons a minute was by no means a feat worthy of appraisal, but the angle of approach was a conflict of interest for the preservation of life: namely Grug Nugh’s.

  Grug was a bounty hunter and at present found himself working for the Universal Globe, a galaxy-uniting organisation bent upon maintaining universal salvation and peace; and in Grug’s case, working to contain the last remaining druid of the open cluster M52. There was thought to be only one male remaining of its deoxyribonucleic acid kind in the entire galaxy; It was on a trek which had lead Grug to all systems mapped within the galaxy; it searching frantically for more of its kind; its sole purpose being that of breeding.

  Grug held on tight to the single shaft steering column as it shook violently and his foothold on the directional control pedals became momentarily unbalanced. Panel instrumentation lights then indicated that the heat within the confines of the small pod was starting to escalate quite rapidly out of control.

  But he’d be safe soon enough, for the approach through the layers of atmosphere would only take a few minutes.

  He’d also taken the precaution of suiting up prior to engaging the automatic pilot, for the computer had warned of variations in the levels of consolidated gases, indicating that the actual stability of a vessel of his kind was destined more for disaster than not.

  He felt the sweat trickle down his forehead to his single eye, the salt stinging with every blink, and his sight blurring with every passing second. He decided on the only alternative remaining; he switched the auto eject on. The control panel was disappearing from view and there was no way of telling if the present angle of approach was going to hold, falter, or correct itself. He would remain with the vessel for as long as possible; it may cool, but if it didn’t, he would be spat from the pod on warning from his suit’s built-in temperature gauge.

  Grug was alone, not another sandman to speak of. He stared inwards at the vision which devoured his thoughts; his home planet of Urza, the spiral system MPD331. He then drifted to the home of his father, Alpha Tranguli; and his own wife, a two eyed being from the Adraiurk system. His mind was drifting further and further from its physical hold on the plane of the living.

  He lost consciousness.

  The build up of heat had now reached the danger level, a kronograde below that of death. The suit and pod acted on the information, Grug being spat into the open atmosphere, his legs, head and shoulders forced back, fracturing his vertebrae in one place, the acceleration of his ejection reducing his rate of descent to the planet’s surface below.

  The sudden change in temperature brought vomit to his lips, this in turn pooled around the inside base of his helmet, just below the level of his mouth. The suit recognised the texture, smell, and atomic structure of the substance. A small valve opened inside the suit near Grug’s neck-less form and sucked the very danger into the processing chamber of the suit, a function used for the discarding of excretion. It was then that all useful qualities were removed and placed into small storage pockets for the coming preservation of sandman life.

  A parachute was deployed from the ejected seat, a controlled descent to the surface below being voyaged by Grug’s unconscious form. What lay below him was the general vicinity of concern, the area thought to harbour the estranged druid.

  The descending drift was only slight and gravity less than that on his home planet, both allowing for a slow and hazard free drop. Grug was still out cold and as the seat reached a point of only a few molo-krons from the surface he was pushed from his cushion buttress, inadvertently breaking his vertebrae in another two places.

  Grug now lay on the ground in a state of temporary rest, his suit carrying out its medical evaluation as to his state of being.

  He was alive, diagnosis soon revealing the aid required to heal the injuries sustained.

  He would be conscious when the sun rose, but incapable of voluntary movement for a further two of this planet’s days.

  His eye flickered open slowly.

  A sound was heard, his suit had something to say, a short static breaking the silence. A few beeps sounded, and the good nature of the suit took play: “Please Grug; do not move.” It was monotone and sounded of little expression. “Your condition has been diagnosed as serious and the appropriate medicament has been administered. No speech is advisable, but your thought processor has been activated. Please feel free with your waves of mental conversation.”

  Grug directed his brain waves accordingly, allowing the suit full comprehension of his thoughts, this only given at will and will alone. “How many days before I’m cured?”

  “When the second sun peaks the horizon on the second day, you will be well.”

  “Will I live as I have before?”

  “Remain still and you shall be repaired as new. You have enough stored protein, minerals, vitamins and all of the basic sustenance required within my pouches for ten of this planet’s days.”

  “How long is that?

  “Five days on your home world of Urza. It is time to rest. Do you wish to be administered a sleeping drug?”

  “No. I think I shall remain awake for awhile and have some private thoughts.”

  “I understand.” Static sounded once again and Grug was introduced to a world of silence; not even bird song being evident.

  Grug lay awake, meditating the light pain from his mind. Extracts of morphine abstract had been administered as part of the medicament, but pain came in many an electromagnetic form.

  He would soon be cured of his disability.

  This was a new experience for him, and he was quite content to find that he suffered little from the natural side affects of nuclei therapy.

  It was late afternoon. He couldn’t see the direct effect of the sinking sun, but knew of its beauty, for the finest of orange strips spanned the area above his visual. Beyond that, behind his head and out of view, that’s where the real sunset of hue existed.

  Grug slowly brought his thoughts back to reality, a sound being heard. He’d not heard a sound all day; he found that strange. “Suit! What’s that noise I hear?” The thought went unanswered. “Suit. I command a reply to my question. Listen to my thoughts, please. What’s that noise?” Silence.

  The suit refrained from answering; why? The thing he heard. The suit didn’t want to answer due to warning the nearby predator. Was that it? It must be.

  The ‘thing’ that passed was only three max-krons to his right flank. Grug couldn’t take the chance in moving, for two reasons. If he moved, damage may be inflicted upon his mending vertebrae, and secondly, the slightest movement may indicate to the p
redator his location and predicament.

  The suit watched for him, the very exchange of heat between movement and atmosphere etching out the visual picture. It was the druid. It slivered along the ground like a snake, like a slug or caterpillar; a sea urchin from Callamass of Andromeda, like the changing form of a cloud that streaks across the sky. It rolled its underbelly forward, past Grug and the suit. It looked flat, but had no distinguishable shape – but it was there. It was a thin structure of life, a living, breathing, organism. The druid’s head was its standing point, erect and upheld, ever looking forward, seeking evidence of life.

  Grug remained silent, not even a thought now for the suit that encased him. The suit was his guard and it watched the passing druid. Its movement was slow and by the time it was out of sounds reach the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, the second suns rise to life being made evident by a band of orange gold that now appeared across the expanse of the sky.

  “Danger has passed.”

  “What was it, Suit?”

  “It was the druid.”

  Grug seek confirmation as to his predicament: “How long before I can move and speak?”

  “After the rising of the second sun; it approaches now.”

  “How long will it take to catch up with the druid?”

  “Not long. Rest.”

  The sun climbed higher, until its celestial body had separated from that of the horizon, a distinct circle of light above that of the planet’s plane. “You can move now. All is well.”

  Grug sat up slowly and turned to look towards the place where the druid had passed. “It looks like that of a binoid trail; or a millanotism from Andres Nade of Megalla.”

  “For well it does, Grug. Little time will be needed for our closing of the gap. A wind will soon oppose the rising of the second sun, a light wind. It will render us undetectable by smell.”