Chapter 29: Green Hell

Roy felt strange indeed. While he should have been no stranger to anxiety anymore and finding his mother in the proverbial last moment should have been the peak.

Just two hours ago he had arrived here at Harper’s Junction.

It was actually not so long ago in terms of time, but to him, it felt as if it was a lifetime ago with all the things that happened between him arriving aboard a small shuttle and now arriving in his spaceship.

It was not the Enroe Colt, nor was it the slightly bigger DeNoir, but a brand new SII-Diamond-Viper.

He was all by himself, not even Partner was with him. His four-legged friend was with is girl, Tanya.

His Diamond Viper was too big for the small landing platform on top of Ant Hill.

He stepped into the small lobby of the Green Hell shuttle connection.

The rugged and small looking intersystem craft was so he could identify now, just a D-20, sat on its landing struts, behind a transparent wall, A short flex-tunnel connected to its open side door.

While everything was in good repair, and some sections of Harper’s Junction really did look brand new he could still see patched repair jobs here and there and the twisted and burned-out wreck of a Space Bus pushed to the side of the small space-port.

The recently declared war had begun right here, and not all had the effects had vanished.

This realization confirmed that decision he had made 3 weeks ago.

A man, wearing a dark green Bioeal-Suit, with the leg seals completely integrated into a pair of Terran-All-Terrains had just wrestled a small container box onto a short conveyor, the box clearly marked for the main employer on Green Hell, The Bioresearch institute. Now he turned to face Roy. “We can lift off in about twenty minutes, Sir. You do know of course our next and only stop is Green Hell, right?”

“If you would not stop there, Mister. I’d walk there.”

The Shuttle pilot did not look like anyone Roy remembered. And after the man checked his CITI that identified Roy as a native of Green Hell, he was all satisfied.

Three hours later and a short inter-system trip, the little D-20 slowed down to dive into the atmosphere of a green planet.

Roy’s anxiety changed into a feeling of euphoria. He had seen many other worlds now, even the unequaled beauty of Onyx, the home planet of Tanya and her family. Yet, every fiber in his body told him, he was home once again.

And as the shuttle dove past the lowest clouds and Anthill became visible, a sweet, alien and yet so familiar voice filled his mind. “All Quaroniel rejoices, her child and warrior returns!”

He instantly remembered the uncanny, unexplainable entity that was Quaroniel, the planet, the AI and the goddess-like apparition.

The pilot said as he stood by the exit. “You be careful Sir, I don’t know how long you have been away, but Green Hell is still Green Hell.”

Roy could not wipe off the grin from his face. “I have been away for much too long.”

With those words, he went to the elevators. For a moment he contemplated visiting Ranger Solomon, maybe see if Bob was there, or check on the O’Malley’s and ask about Melissa, but all that could wait. He wanted to go to Ma Swanson’s, visit his mother who was back in the old house, that once again. But he wanted to walk there, not by flyer.

Well, he had to take a flyer from Anthill to Ma Swanson’s boathouse as not even he could swim that far.

It took another 30 minutes when he finally stepped into that coffee and lubricant smelling shop and with the smell came a deluge of wonderful memories.

Ma Swanson was right there behind the counter. The woman climbed right over it rushed up and embraced Roy with a deeply passionate hug. “Clarion, Clarion looks who’s here!”

As if time had not advanced inside Ma’ Swanson’s store, Trond Iveland the city engineer was sitting in his accustomed chair across K’Tkik with the well-worn board game of Eggs & Grubbs between them, said. “You’ve grown Roy.”

K’Tkik agreed. “Yes, he appears taller indeed. How’d things out there Roy?”

Clarion also came around the counter now and greeted Roy.

Ma Swanson pointed at the new souvenir cards taped to one of the columns. There was one from Odenworld, Pishoir, and Sares Prime. “Love those, Roy, really do.”

Roy had spent a little longer than he planned at Ma’ Swanson’s but then nothing could hold him, he almost ran through the gap, Ma Swanson created for him.

There was no sweeter, more invigorating smell than the wonderful scent in the warm, moist air surrounding him. The gravitation felt exactly right, his senses were once again so fully awake.

He evaded a patch of Terror Moss as he strolled along the shore of the Great Lake. From one moment to the next, a woman in a flowing green dress and long greenish blond hair walked next to him, she was barefoot. “Welcome back Child of Quaroniel. Other Children like me, but it delights me deeply to sense your deep love.

“I still do not know what you really are, Quaroniel. However, I have seen a little glimpse of other worlds and other places and no other place can hold a candle. However...” His voice trailed off.

She smiled and said with her gentle voice. “I am the sum of this world and the spirit of another. I am this world’s protector, and I have elected you to be my warrior.”

She pointed to the largest Water Snake; Roy remembered seeing. “Because of you and those other children of Quaroniel, this world is has found more protection from those dangers and challenges that come from beyond our orbit and I am powerless against. I see you found love and companionship beyond my skies, and you are now on the path to become the warrior I want you to become has just begun. Quaroniel does not suffer the passing of time, you will return.”

“Yes, Quaro. I have signed up with the Marines and will do my part to defend this Union and to extend this world, my home. The war has just begun, and I want to reassure all those enemies of our Union, how dangerous it is to disturb our peace.”

The female entity gently touched his face. “Quaroniel is very pleased and she looks forward to the day you bring the one you have chosen to this world.”

“Oh, she is eager to come, but I wanted to be with her and show her the true beauty of this world. However this cannot be now, because I cannot stay, I have signed on while still on Phantas and must report to Camp Mattis in less than a month now.”

“Go find your Uncle Sam, Quaroniel will step back and fade once more from your mind and memory, until you come home to stay. You are my chosen and nothing of this world will harm you.”

--””—

McElligott stepped on the bridge of the USS Devastator and handed the current CO an order chip. “Captain Tengku, I am taking temporary command of First Fleet.”

The female Captain took the chip, it was a little golden rectangular wafer-thin object, the size of a human fingernail.

Technically, the Admiral of the Fleet would not need an order chip. As per the Chain of Command, he was the highest authority. And normally Order Chips were dark blue. This one was golden and bore a tiny logo. The Chip had been issued by the Assembly itself. This surpassed everything.

The Admiral of the Fleet had boarded the Devi just moments ago, he caught up with the mightiest battleship of the Union using the latest Mercury Class – Super Destroyer and the fasted ship developed so far.

He also noticed Alycia Lichfangh stepping on the bridge. How could that be? He had traveled via Space-Train to the furthest possible post of the Klack Empire, used the very cramped and almost claustrophobic mini train to a secret outpost far beyond Union Space and space that had been explored or survey. There he was whisked by the fastest spy ship the Union had to catch up with the Devi and the First. She had been at Pluribus; how could she be here?

He almost elapsed in his old ways, but with her around, with his new appointment to the most elusive group of the Union and with her proven ability to make him say things her certainly did not want to say, he swallowed the cynical critique he wanted to level against the Muslim female Captain. It was known to him and everyone of course, that the Eternal Warrior viewed the Devi as his ship, and no one took the CO position without him picking and choosing the candidate. It was also well known at Fleet Command, that Stahl picked the strangest and weirdest individuals. Non-Corps, A Colorful, a Shaill of all things among others and now the 63rd commanding officer was, of all things a Muslima. No one in this day and age even remotely knew what this meant, but he was of Pre Astro times. He remembered Iran nuking Paris and Jerusalem, several middle eastern states back then had been nuked into radioactive parking lots in retaliation and the world descended into World War III. Then the Sarans came and everything changed.

The Second Exodus dawned, and billions of people left overcrowded Earth to find new frontiers and colonies beyond the skies. Yet these cursed Muslim savages refused to accept World government, tried to kill Sarans and refused to accept that there was indeed live beyond Earth’s orbit. These religious fanatics splintered in dozens of even more fanatic groups kept spreading Terror among themselves and everyone else.

Even the Guardian had a hard time getting them under control.

When he finally did and most of these radicals left Earth, either voluntary or in a few cases not voluntary at all.

McElligott smirked at these memories, he was, after all, a leading voice and leading voice in those forced resettlements. Muslims, Troublesome Native tribes, and quite a few North American hold outs questioning the new World Government, a most violent group of savage Viking Revivalists and a few others were packed into Colonist Arks if they wanted or not and sent to new shores beyond the skies. It was, of course, necessary, Earth had to unite so it could face much greater danger as a united civilization. Much of the architects of United Earth had long perished and were as forgotten as the Guardian itself, but a few remained. McElligott was one of them.

When United Earth grew, many of the forcefully resettled groups refused to become members of United Earth. Ignorant fools of course in his opinion, among those refusing, were several Muslim colonies.

Now they did become Union members. That it was due to the fact, the Union did not ask for membership, but societies had to make the first step and every group and individual had the same value and voice. Something, McElligott came to accept as a fundamental fact, after a good 3000 years.

That the mightiest battleship was under the command of one of “these” was however still not entirely palatable to him. Even though Captain Tengku had been properly “roasted’ by a panel of Senior Captains and found worthy to command a Union Starship.

He had checked on her and from a purely professional standpoint he could find nothing in her stellar performance that could be used as an objection,

That Stahl had this strange and uncanny ability to find these stellar individuals among the worst misfits and unusual outsiders were not lost to him.

He glanced towards Lichfangh and said to the Captain. I am taking tactical command over First Fleet, there is no need for me to upset established ship command structures. I am also here to deliver good news; Admiral Stahl is recuperating fast and should be able to resume his duties and resume his posting as the Commandant of First Fleet.”

Captain Tengku saluted and said. “Welcome aboard the Devastator, Admiral, Sir. These are indeed welcome news, Centron is almost insufferable and very worried. To have the AI of this rather unusual ship worried makes things rather difficult.”

“I see. Carry on then Captain. Please make sure the specialists and the special equipment that came along with me are properly accommodated and the new weapon is installed as fast as possible.”

“Yes Admiral, I see to it.”

Lichfangh stepped closer. “Why don’t we let the Captain do just that, while I show you to your VIP quarters?

“I was expecting to use the Admiral’s office...”

Alycia said quietly. “I would not push it, Admiral. Centron is as smart as your Nelson at least, and it is sentient.”

“So, it is still a machine.”

“Would you dare to insult Mothermachine while on Factory?”

“I am not suicidal.”

“You made my point. Invading Stahl’s quarters would stir a hornet’s nest of galactic proportions.”

McElligott swallowed. “Alright, I see those VIP quarters. That brings up two questions, however, can you really teleport that far and what authority does an Army General have on a Union ship?”

“I am here, am I not? As for your other question. I am an approved liaison and technically a Yeoman to the Admiral ... The other one.”

--””—

The Dusty Cloak once was a third-rate tavern in the South wall of the Local Lord Canyon, near the exit to the space field. It was somewhat less busy than the upper or northern Canyon, named Bennan’s Cut leading into the open. Mostly because the Local Lords palace hugged the wall opposite of the Dusty Cloak and the illustrious Local Lord liked it quiet.

That this held true for many generations of Local Lords, was the reason the

Local Lord Canyon especially here near the exit was considered the playground of the very rich and influential locals. There were fewer businesses, hotels, and taverns, but of a substantial better class.

Rich merchants, dealers, and customers decided to rent rooms at the two luxury hotels and the same rich and affluent crowd liked the eateries and taverns. The usual Riff Raff was excluded. The dusty street was kept cleaner than the others, Lizard traffic and thus Lizard poop was kept to a minimum. The only five or six actual flyers and a few motorized wheeled vehicles were owned by beings living here.

That included the truly antique and over 500-year-old Togar landing tank. Brightly decorated with golden and red paint. The personal vehicle of the Local Lord himself.

On a table near a transparent window panel, about halfway up in the Canyon wall and the mentioned Dust Cloak nursing expensive drinks sat three individuals. The Local Lord himself, a Karthanian holding long thin glass with Dark Brown Slobber.

An expensive dressed Velorian, not many beings had ever seen in person. Gufhyt, one of the two Velorians owning and operating the infamous Mulwhur Trading Company. The largest known company od such sort dealing with all aspects of the Slave trade industry. The crustaceans with its rigid segmented exoskeleton used the finely developed manipulators at the end of its upmost leg pair to guide a squeeze bag with something viscose and dark red between his small mouth halves.

The third was now the largest Slave dealer of the planet, now that Kukur Nurop was no longer his competitor, he was a stocky Turotonk with known ties to the Galactic Council. He was just served with a big tankard of Oghr-Beer.

The Velorian put down the squeeze bag and said. “Apparently competition is not as it used to be on Alvor’s Cove. We are about to deliver a new batch of Slaves. Lots of healthy individuals, but I heard Nurop is out of business?”

The Turotonk, going by the name of Snapp, the Lemh stopped himself taking the first draft. “One could say it this way. My dear rival was once again found in the Poop composter, but unlike last time he was no longer alive, he suffocated in that vile stuff.”

The Local Lord leaned forward as much as his semi-rigid body allowed. “It is not good for business to have valued businesspeople harassed and murdered that way.”

Snapp, the Lemh said. “It is even worse for business to buy a Dayiee or Unions. So if there are any Unions or Dai in your load of slaves, dear Gufhyt, you might sell them elsewhere. I prefer to stay on the outside of Poop composters.”

“No Dai for sure, they are still buzzing all across Freespace incredibly angry and even though I have the great Seal of Protection of the Karthanians and a Document of Free Trade of the Togar Empire. I rather not run across them right now. I do have a few Unions.”

“Sell them elsewhere, I would not take them for free right now.”

The Local Lord blustered. “This is Freespace, the Union has no business here.”

The Turotonk shrugged. “Whatever you say, Local Lord. Union military and Union Police cannot come here, that is true, but private contractors have no such limitations. What if the Union decides to put a big bounty of Polos on, let us say my head? Their pockets are deeper than even the Togar queen’s coffers. If they decide to put five million Polos on my head, every cutthroat in the entire Freespace will try to earn it, and one of them just might do that.