The Chosen Race (Space Empires Book 2) Read online

  Copyright © 2015 Caleb Thomas Selby

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1508978921

  ISBN 13: 9781508978923

  Dedicated to my loving wife

  CHAPTER 1 Letter Home

  CHAPTER 2 Grimsin

  CHAPTER 3 Macabre Revelation

  CHAPTER 4 Journey in Shadows

  CHAPTER 5 Buried Alive

  CHAPTER 6 Trash Pod Trip

  CHAPTER 7 The Defiant

  CHAPTER 8 Raiders

  CHAPTER 9 The Bunkers

  CHAPTER 10 An Admiral and a General

  CHAPTER 11 Mentor, Comrade, Friend

  CHAPTER 12 Too Many Krohns

  CHAPTER 13 Death’s Sting

  CHAPTER 14 Catacomb of Corridors

  CHAPTER 15 Home Again

  CHAPTER 16 Incarnate Evil

  CHAPTER 17 Sion Fire

  CHAPTER 18 Clear Skies

  CHAPTER 19 Last Stand!

  CHAPTER 20 Eden

  CHAPTER 21 The Protectors

  CHAPTER 22 The Chosen Race

  CHAPTER 1

  Letter Home

  My Dearest Mother and Father,

  I have never been so exhausted in all my life. I haven’t slept in days. I’ve barely eaten in that same time. I’ve cried so much that my eyes now sting with every blink. I would give almost anything for a warm shower and fresh clothes. I’ve seen more pain, suffering and death than I care to recall.

  As I write, I am very much aware that you may both already be dead and these few hastily written words will never be read. With the relay cortex down and four star systems between us, I have no way of knowing if Admiral Fedrin and his ships reached the colony in time to save you from the Krohn forces. Yet I feel I must take down these few words, if for no other reason, than to help me understand what has happened.

  As I write I am sitting in cousin Kebbs’ apartment looking out over Larep, or rather what is left of it. By all accounts the city is destroyed. There is such finality and crushing weight in this statement that, were I able to, I think I’d cry again. Fires have engulfed sprawling quarters of the metropolis with no means or men to fight them. The mighty towers and prodigious spires that once stood as symbols of our civilization’s might and accomplishments now lay prostrate on the ground as if paying homage to our conquerors. Broken stones and twisted steel now fill the streets that once rang out with the bustling sounds of life and commerce. Dead bodies fill the halls of the universities and government facilities, their flesh all but ripped from their bones by the ravenous Krohn swarm. Kebbs is down there somewhere, numbered amongst the fallen; but I am getting ahead of myself.

  So, exactly how did I get into this impossible situation? Dad, if you’re reading this I bet you’ve already guessed the answer. That’s right, I can’t say no! I know, I know, it has gotten me in trouble my whole life and someday I’m going to learn a lesson the hard way. Well guess what? I still haven’t learned my lesson!

  After I was laid off from Asar Securities I went to live with Kebbs until I could get back on my feet. Mom, I know what you’re thinking but Kebbs had really cleaned up his act by the time I got here. The drugs were gone, the cava was history, and all the other nasty little vices that he had clung to for so many years, had lost their hold on him. When I came, he had a steady job, his own place and for the first time in a long time, some self respect. You would have barely recognized him as the same shell of a man we used to chat with over the relay grid begging you and dad for rent money. He was a good man.

  Kebbs’ credited this miraculous transformation to a philanthropic group funded by private sponsors that actively sought down and out men and women and tried to help free them of their shackles. Kebbs’ sponsor was a man named Professor Jabel, a premier scientist and leading architect of the Clear Skies missile defense system among other notable projects. But as Kebbs soon found out, Jabel’s sponsorship was much more than a noble effort to help him get off of drugs. Jabel needed Kebbs freed of his addictions so that he could become an asset fit to be recruited for what Jabel called succinctly, “saving the Federation from a profound evil.”

  I went to live with Kebbs several months after his recruitment and was convinced by both him and Jabel to join them in their understated war on evil. What is this evil I am talking about? I have talked with Professor Jabel and Kebbs at length about all of this and I still don’t understand it all; but I will share with you what I can.

  First, you must understand that creatures more horrific than you can imagine have secretly invaded our world. These creatures are crueler than the Krohns and more ruthless than the Refrac hordes during their prime. These beings, demons you might even call them, have come amongst us unawares and have directed the course of our civilization for years, possibly decades, although it is almost impossible to be certain at this point. What they want from us, I don’t exactly know. Professor Jabel seems to have considerable insight into it all but he has been hesitant to tell us all he knows for fear the information could be used against us were we to be captured. Perhaps he was right but I wish now he had told us more. The information he has could help us right now...I’m almost certain of it.

  Professor Jabel had three objectives to combat this scourge when he first convinced Kebbs to join him. The first was for Kebbs to make contact with General Darion, whom he had known since they were children, and bring him into Jabel’s confidence (just as he did me) in order to form a core of operatives, combining Jabel’s knowledge of the enemy and Darion’s army to protect Larep and Namuh Prime. Unfortunately, we failed at this first task (although not without considerable effort by both Kebbs’ and myself to the contrary). The enemy had a strong hold over General Darion when we first approached him and even though he eventually came around and joined our cause, the damage had been done. As a result of our failure to gain Darion’s loyalties in time, an entire Krohn army now occupies the capital city and tens of thousands of innocent civilians have been butchered...untold more are in grave peril.

  The second task seemed simple enough: retrieve a hidden book called the Origin Codex in order to prevent it from falling into the hands of the enemy (for reasons still known only to Professor Jabel). With the help of General Darion, we actually did manage to obtain the book, albeit briefly. The book was regrettably lost in a subsequent firefight with Krohn troops in a skirmish that also claimed Kebbs’ life. I can only imagine that the book is now in the hands of the enemy being exploited for whatever purposes Jabel feared.

  With Krohns in the capital city, Kebbs’ death and resulting loss of the Codex, we have effectively failed at everything Jabel had set out for us to accomplish. And that leads us to the third and arguably most critical task before us, which is to restore the Clear Skies missile system that has been compromised by the enemy infiltrators. If we can fix the system, the Krohn Fleet currently in orbit will be destroyed and in time, we can take out the forces already on the ground. This task has a unique hurdle in that it requires Admiral Fedrin and what is left of his forces, to obtain an unadulterated copy of the Clear Skies programing hidden on the Voigt colony some months ago. If Fedrin pulls that off (a big if by all accounts) the stated plan is that he will send us the program by data burst through the satellite grid cortex. In order for that to work, someone must be at a deep space transmitter receiver to accept the download. That’s where we come in again. General Darion is going to make his way to the deep space transmitter at the Clear Skies Research Center and attempt to establish communications with Fedrin and get the program. While he is doing that, I am going to find Professor Jabel a
nd keep him safe so that he can utilize the program to fix Clear Skies.

  Looking over what I have just written, it is nearly overwhelming. The number of details, situations and dumb luck that must align perfectly in order to pull this all off is mind numbing to contemplate. If even one step in the delicate chain of events falters, the entire plan will fly apart. If that happens, I don’t know what we are going to do. We have run out of tools and options. The Second and Third Fleets are destroyed, the Northern Fleet has retreated away from the home system and Fedrin’s last few ships are woefully under equipped for the trials that lay ahead of them. Unless a miracle happens, the only way I can see us getting out of this one is with outside help, and even that might not be enough. At the end of the day if we fail and our best efforts prove inadequate, we will die knowing that we did all we could.

  That’s a tough line to end on but I really must go. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow and I must get some rest, although I am sure true sleep will not visit me. The roars of Krohns in the streets below have a way of keeping me awake and my weapon near.

  If these hastily written words one day reach your eyes and I am no more, please know and remember that I love you and have lived every day in appreciation and humble thanks for buying my passage off of the colony at the expense of your freedom, all those years ago. And if perchance you survive this gathering tempest and your paths one day cross those of a man named General Darion, tell him that in another time and place, I think I could have loved him.

  -Your Loving Daughter,

  Reesa

  CHAPTER 2

  Grimsin

  It was a brief moment of respite for the haggard and grief-stricken men and women of the Sixth Fleet. They had endured much since the brazen attack on their home docks over a week earlier, and their subsequent race across the Federation to save the Voigt Colony from the Krohns’ talons. Their journey was filled with peril and tragedy, culminating in the losses of the Corinthia and Bolter warships with all hands while battling the Krohns over the skies of Voigt; a steep price to pay for the victory that was won.

  The cold, steely hulls of the surviving vessels now creaked and groaned under the gravitational pull of the planet far below. The battered armor plates and burnt out dampeners on every ship bore testament to the harrowing events the ever-humbled fleet had endured.

  Admiral Fedrin glanced out the shuttle window over the cluttered Iovara hangar bay. An older shuttle was hoisted up on a large platform nearby, beneath which stood a team of unkempt mechanics and engineers that poked and prodded at an open panel on its undercarriage. Fedrin shook his head and sat back against the shuttle wall and looked back at the Idok officer in the transmission screen as he spoke.

  “We were confronted by the Sion ship only an hour after we arrived in Sibid ourselves,” the officer nervously recounted. “After a lot of convincing, they persuaded Commander Etana to bring the Idok to the Southern Voigt Sea and submerge it right off the coast so that they could retrofit it.”

  “Why submerge?” Fedrin asked critically.

  The officer shrugged uneasily. “For our protection if the process took longer than they guessed, or so said the Sions.”

  Fedrin nodded slowly. “Then what?”

  The officer swallowed hard. “A few days into the retrofit, Commander Etana decided to take a small detachment of officers to the colony in order to secure some provisions, as well as to contact the local star-fighter squadrons and offer our logistical support if and when the Krohn fleet arrived. She also mentioned that if an opportunity presented itself, she would try to find some sort of data device. I wasn’t sure what that was all about.”

  Fedrin shook his head, remembering how he had told Etana of the data device and how important it was. “And let me guess. You never heard back from her?”

  The officer nodded. “We were in regular contact with her until the shuttle reached the colony. Once that happened, all communication ended. We haven’t heard from any of the team since.”

  Fedrin sighed, wishing he had briefed his wife on the potential dangers of exposing herself to their new enemy.

  “There was nothing I could have done,” the officer added. “She decided to go to the colony herself and once her mind was made up, there was no changing it.”

  “Oh, I know,” Fedrin said and sighed. “Believe me, I know.”

  “What are your orders for us Admiral?” the officer asked.

  Fedrin nodded toward the Idok bridge behind the officer. “My ships are reeling from the encounter with the Krohns, some of them badly damaged. I need you to contact Commodore Kesler and arrange protection for us while our engineering teams coordinate with the Sions to repair and upgrade our vessels.”

  “Aye, Sir,” replied the officer and then saluted.

  Fedrin nodded in return and cut the transmission.

  “No it’s not!” a mechanic suddenly yelled outside, startling Fedrin.

  “Shut up and do it!” an engineer shouted back as he tossed a tool to the floor and stormed away.

  Fedrin glanced out toward the open bay doors at the far side of the hangar. He was just about to give Tarkin the go ahead for launch when he spotted Trab, the Supreme Sion Chancellor. The daunting form, clad in the same familiar black robe, appeared on a small bench across from him. His hands were neatly folded across his lap and his general demeanor was that of respect. A few static ripples passed through the form, making it apparent that it was just a transmission hologram.

  “Admiral,” said Trab raising his hand. “I would like to show you something.”

  Without warning or an acknowledgement from Fedrin, a cold, windy feeling suddenly enveloped Fedrin. Before he could protest, the shuttle vanished, leaving nothing but empty blackness all around.

  “Where are we?” Fedrin called out into the darkness.

  “Our minds are traveling,” was Trab’s only reply.

  Fedrin wanted to ask where they were traveling to but couldn’t find his tongue as his latest disembodied experience overwhelmed him. It could have been mere seconds or years to Fedrin when the oppressive black emptiness slowly began to fill with tiny dots of light. They came into view slowly, flickering at first but slowly becoming stronger and stronger until he recognized the lights as constellations.

  “This is the Zelin system, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “It is,” Trab’s strong voice rang out.

  Fedrin looked out into the system curiously, wondering what Trab wanted to show him. He was just about to ask when he spotted them. “What are those?” he asked in dismay as a formation of menacing warships paraded past in the distance.

  “They are a portion of the Unmentionable’s killing machine,” Trab answered in a weary voice. “And as you have likely already summarized, they are heading toward Namuh Prime.”

  Fedrin gaped at the ominous vessels as they inched ever nearer to his planet. “Is there anything you can do to stop them?”

  A tortuous pause preceded Trab’s reply. “I am sorry, Fedrin, but we have already done our part. We have done much to spread Yova’s message to all that would hear and defend his precious creation from the evil that surrounds. Our time is nearing an end. Our people have grown weary with this ever-challenging task. Yova himself has said that our commission will soon be at an end.”

  “So you’re just going to abandon us?” Fedrin exclaimed in momentary anger. “After all these years of sheltering us and guiding us from afar, you’re all just going to call it quits? Now, when apparently we need you the most?”

  Trab sighed and then answered with a heavy heart. “Nearly all that was left of our own forces were lost several hours ago Fedrin,” his voice crackled with suppressed emotion. “They were destroyed in one last effort to stand between the Unmentionables and your home world in a battle so very far away from here. The enemy ships you even now see are the victors from that conflict.”

&n
bsp; “I’m sorry, Trab,” Fedrin replied at a near loss for words. “I...I didn’t know.”

  “We are as committed to your people as ever,” Trab added. “But we have nothing left to offer other than the equipment on my ship. Even that was a sacrifice to assemble and bring here.”

  “And I appreciate that. I really do! But what good are our ships, upgraded or not, going to do against that?”

  “Perhaps nothing,” admitted Trab. “Perhaps they will only delay the inevitable. Perhaps the enemy will still overwhelm and destroy your civilization. Perhaps this will all have been for naught; but perhaps, Fedrin, perhaps it will make a difference. Perhaps, it will give you and your people the time needed to become the next Chosen Race!”

  Before Fedrin could reply, the Unmentionable ships, followed by the stars and the entire Zelin system, began to fade from view. The heavy blackness that followed once again consumed Fedrin’s conscience and whisked it away in a seeming whirlwind until releasing it back in his body. As Fedrin steadied himself, he looked up at Trab and jumped to his feet. “Become the Chosen Race?” he exclaimed. “Us? Take on your role, the role of the Sions? I don’t think so, Trab! You might want to get a hold of Yova and tell him we aren’t ready for this kind of stuff yet. We can barely hold on against the Krohns. There’s no way we can take on the Unmentionables! It’s laughable to even suggest it!”

  “It is not by my choice that this is happening,” replied Trab calmly. “It is Yova’s will.”

  Fedrin shook his head. “Why would Yova choose us to do this? Doesn’t he know how primitive we are? We couldn’t even defeat the Refrac without your help! What makes Yova think we could take on the Unmentionables?”

  “You do not need to convince me of your inadequacies. We have watched you for centuries and know full well what your people lack.”

  “There you go!” Fedrin said, throwing up his arms in exasperation. “We are inadequate! You said so yourself. Conversation over!”