The Lilean Chronicles - Redemption by Merita King
The Lilean Chronicles: Book One
Redemption
by
Merita King
*****
© Merita King 2011
Cover art © JL Stratton 2012
The Lilean Chronicles: Book One ~ Redemption
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
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THE LILEAN CHRONICLES: BOOK ONE ~ REDEMPTION
By Merita King
DEDICATION
For RBR my friend, my soul mate. You are everything. The one who understands. The one who doesn't judge.
Also for MSV who brought him to me and reminded me that if you can dream it, you can do it. You made this possible.
Live the journey, for every destination is but a doorway to another!
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CHAPTER ONE
Farra awoke with the now familiar searing pain in her chest. She clutched at herself and waited for the pain to subside. These episodes were coming every night now and always after the dreams. These dreams that began so suddenly and without warning. They occurred only occasionally at first but gradually increased until two weeks ago when they started coming every night. She would wake in a hot sweat, troubled with the swiftly retreating knowledge that she must hurry, but before she could remember where or why, the dream would fade into the morning mist. Every time it was the same. A voice calling to her, urging her to listen, to hurry. She spent hours researching dreams and their symbolism in an effort to understand why this might be happening to her. She even went to a therapist who told her she must be sexually repressed and should consider the prospect that she may be homosexual. It wasn’t until she bumped into an old friend from college that she found a possible explanation that felt comfortable for her.
Erin McClusky was once the campus tramp but despite that fact, Farra Duncan and she got along like a house on fire. They forged a friendship that endured all the way through college and only ended when Erin went to rehab due to her Duomol addiction. Farra never realised that her friend was hooked on that stuff. Oh she knew that the occasional joint came their way but Duomol? Never in a hundred years would she think that stuff would come between them. Erin was lucky; she lived through her addiction and the therapy they dished out in rehab and came out the other end with her sanity intact; many addicts on Duomol didn’t. It was invented as an ingredient in a new super fuel. It was environmentally clean, was cheap to produce and wasn’t flammable like so many other fuels. What the inventors didn’t realise until too late though was that the Duomol ingredient of this new fuel was highly addictive. It smelled wonderful, like summer flowers in the morning and that was the problem. Once you smelled that smell you wanted to smell it again and again. Before too long the people producing it were addicted and started filching a little here and there for their own private use. The most popular way of using it was as perfume. A little dab behind the ears and they got a high that lasted them almost a whole day and anyone who came into close enough contact to smell it was hooked very quickly. They passed it around their friends and the addiction spread like a forest fire. It killed quickly; most addicts were dead within six months of their initial exposure.
The odour molecules of Duomol work like any other smell until they reach the olfactory epithelium at the top of the nasal passage. Once there though, they work very differently from all other smells. As soon as the host’s brain registers how beautiful it smells, the brain cells start to die at an alarming rate. Symptoms usually start with mild headaches, dizziness and that sort of thing. Within weeks most addicts are experiencing memory loss and impaired motor functions and need help to walk and dress themselves. At three or four months most are catatonic, doubly incontinent and need to be fed intravenously. At five months, coma followed by death at around six months. Farra’s friend Erin was very lucky; her parents found out by sheer accident two weeks after her first exposure and got her in hospital within twenty four hours. She received the only known cure – complete removal of the olfactory epithelium. She wasn’t quite the same as before. She walked with a stick and obviously no longer had any sense of smell and her long term memory was scratchy in places, but she was alive.
Farra was delighted to bump into her in Joe’s coffee shop and they spent a happy hour and a half catching up. It was during this chatter that she told Erin about her dreams and how she wanted to know what they meant, if anything. She told her about the therapist she saw and they laughed about Freudian psychology and how everything has its roots in sex. It was Erin who said that it might not be a dream at all but a spirit haunting her and trying to get her help.
“Oh Erin please, that’s crazy,” she laughed out loud at the thought.
“Just think about it Farra. You remember that old place we used to hang out in during the summer vacation and how stuff would get moved around all on it’s own?” she leaned forward, wide eyed as if to emphasise the point.
“Yeah I remember.” She was sceptical at first, accusing Erin or one of the other girls of moving stuff to scare everyone but then she remembered the night they all saw a chair move across the room all by itself and how they all heard a woman crying in an upstairs room that they knew was empty.
“You know you’ve always been open to this stuff, susceptible,” Erin continued.
“So how do I find out? If it is a ghost, how do I find out what it wants?” Farra asked.
“When you go to bed, write it a letter asking it what it wants. Read it aloud a couple of times and then go to sleep as normal. If it is a ghost, you should find its answer in the dream and then once it knows you’re listening and want to know, it’ll step it up a bit. And you have to let me know how it goes, okay?” She made Farra promise.
She decided that Erin was nuts, that the damage done by the Duomol was more than she realised but when she went to bed that night, she thought, oh what the hell, it can’t do any harm so she tried it. Nothing amazing happened but after that night the dreams came more often. There was still that voice urging her to hurry.
“Hurry Farra please, he needs you. Please help, find the truth. Farra. Farra please.”
As the dreams increased she would wake with the now familiar pain in her chest that always seemed to accompany them. One morning as she showered she noticed what looked like a small bruise on her chest. She touched it but felt no pain. She didn't know it then but that bruise was to become a symbol of the rarest of honours, given to very few that proved themselves worthy.
She had the dreams every night for three weeks before she saw him for the first time. As the familiar voice rang in her ears with the same urgent plea, she found herself looking into the handsome face of a man who possessed the most tangible presence she had ever encountered before. This ghostly shade stood before her in the hinterland between sleeping and waking and she felt no fear. She felt as though she had known him all of her life and she knew that this was one of those defining moments in her life. A moment that meant the choice you made would decide the path of your life forever. A moment where you know things will never be the same again. She didn’t hesitate.
"What
"Help him Farra, find the truth. Moxal 3."
"How?"
"I will be with you always, fear nothing," he smiled and she trusted him immediately.
"I don't even know who you are," she said with a half smile.
"My name is Leon. I am the memory of a nation almost lost. There is one who can save us from extinction but he needs your help. Wake up child.”
She awoke and clutched at her chest until the pain subsided. As she showered she noticed the little bruise was now twice its previous size.
She signed up for deep space military service after she finished college. Her parents both served and so it seemed the most natural thing for her to do the same. She worked hard and excelled at sports and all the physical fitness pursuits and disciplines. She was an expert in unarmed combat, stealth combat techniques, survival skills and several martial arts. The discipline that gave her most pleasure and satisfaction though, was Advanced Weapons Handling – Combat & Survival with Blades. She gained top honours in that class and got a medal for it. She loved blades of all types and designs and had quite a private collection of her own. She beat all the men in her class, many of whom carried the scars to prove it. After she did her statutory three years she signed up for the Deep Space Tactical Unit, or DSTU’s as they are known. This organisation is a sort of deep space SAS who specialise in covert operations across the galaxy. She saw action in a covert operation in the Nebugord system and earned herself the bronze arrow. This is an award for bravery under fire in a hostile environment where the chances of survival are slim. Even though her effort only got her the bronze, she was proud of her little pin and wore it always. She thought her life was all mapped out and she was happy about it. Until the dreams started and everything changed. Now here she was, unemployed and packing for a journey to a shit pile of a place out in the butt hole of nowhere because a ghost told her to do it. She wondered if she was nuts! She correctly anticipated the reaction of her superior officer when she gave him the news.
"You're what"? yelled Major Whelan as his bushy grey eyebrows shot to the top of his head.
"I'm resigning the corps and going to Moxal 3," she stated calmly.
"What the heck do you want to go to that hell hole for?" The Major couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"I might become a Cleaner Sir and maybe a Ranger in time, cleaning the mines. Be an interesting job I reckon. A bit different, y'know?" she offered.
"You're mad." Major Whelan was incredulous. "Mad as a fuckin hatter, get out!"
Major Whelan was old school. One of those men who always looked like an off duty wing commander even when he was on the golf course, at the supermarket or taking a piss on a train on his way to a Billy Kool concert with his grand kids. He rose at six am sharp even on Sundays, ran five miles every morning in all weathers with a fifty pound pack on his back and pressed the creases into his pants so sharp you could slice an apple with them. He called every man under forty five boy and he always doffed his cap to every woman he passed. Oh, and he always signed his title as well as his name, even on birthday cards. Major Whelan was the butt of many a private joke around the corps but he was generally well liked by the students. He took Farra under his wing when she first signed up and gave her a pep talk about being proud to serve, being a hero and doing one’s duty.
A month later she allowed herself to be strapped into a cryo cell for the journey to Moxal 3. She experienced cryo sleep a couple of times during her time in the Corps but she was never under for longer than a few hours. She felt a momentary rush of claustrophobia as the cell lid was locked down and for a fraction of a second, she almost cried out but her self discipline kicked in automatically and she willed her body to relax. She noticed a subtle change in the air that she was breathing. It tasted different, sort of sharp and bitter at the same time. There was just time to think, oh yuck, before darkness descended. Leon was waiting for her in the hinterland and she felt no fear.
"Register for cleaning duties when you get to Corporation HQ and allow yourself to be cheated by the Rangers into duty in the deeper level tunnels. There you will meet a man who will become a lifelong friend. He will help save your life more than once, but first you must save his. You will recognise him immediately; you won't have met anyone like him before. His kind are like shadows of legends told and retold around the firesides of drunken men. He is kept prisoner in the deep tunnels and the fate of countless planets depends upon you freeing him and returning him to his people."
"Who is he, why is he so important?" So many questions she needed answers to but so few of those answers came.
"He is the first step towards fulfilling your destiny and in helping others fulfil theirs. They call him The Animal and treat him as such. He is a pawn in a totally misguided political plot to control a large sector of the galaxy. It is a plot doomed to failure but they do not have the intelligence to realise the error of their greedy ways. If you cannot free him, many planetary systems will enter into a war that will last for centuries. Countless numbers will die in retribution for his death and nothing good will be achieved."
"So he is an important person then?" she asked, still not sure that she'd know him when she met him. "How will I know him?"
"He is Prince Toma of the Drycenian Nation,” he said without preamble.
She was shocked. A Drycenian? Everyone talked about them but she knew no one who had actually met them. They are indeed legends. No one knows much about them except that they keep themselves and their lives very private, they don't invite outsiders into their community and they are supposed to possess the most amazing technology, far in advance of anything anyone else has. The prospect of meeting them herself excited her.
"Wow, a Drycenian, my god." For the first time she saw Leon smile at her reaction. She couldn't wait!
The sun on Moxal 3 was more intense than anywhere from her previous experience. It was tortuous and unrelenting and although she felt some trepidation at entering the mine complex, she found herself eager to do so, just to get out of the furnace. The Moxal 3 Mining Corporation complex enjoys something of a reputation but the buildings she found herself in were so ordinary in appearance that she was almost disappointed. It looked positively prehistoric, like something out of an archaeological excavation. She was ushered into what appeared to her to be a kind of waiting area with several other new employees and told to wait. She made a quick examination of her surroundings and fellow volunteers. They were a mixed bunch; probably equal numbers of ex cons and those who failed to get into the military or security forces, along with a couple of wide eyed youngsters wanting to make their mark and be tough. Amazingly almost half were females. As a woman she expected to be in a minority in this place but she found the company employed many females and even a couple of other female cleaners. For the most part these women looked more like men than most of the men did and she knew right away that she'd find no like minded companions amongst those of her gender here.
She wanted desperately to take off her over shirt but she was conscious of the blue bruise on her chest and didn't like the way people stared at it, so she tended to keep covered up. She still didn't know what it was or why it was there, but it didn't trouble her and Leon told her not to worry, that it was a gift afforded to few others and that all would become clear in the fullness of time. During her cryo sleep journey to Moxal 3 she learned that Leon was a spirit of a man who died during some kind of war, that he and others like him journeyed from what he called the land of the dead to help those of their kind still living as a sort of spiritual guide. She learned that it was a gift seldom giving to someone from another planet, a different race from that to which Leon and his people belonged, that it was known as a choosing and that the little bruise was the mark of the chosen. She learned that to be chosen was a privilege that entailed a life of hardship, risk and self sacrifice. She was proud!
Training for the job
The Uvees are pack creatures and the tunnel complex is crawling with them. They look a bit like a crocodile with much longer hind legs than normal. The two front limbs are shortened and stubby and fitted with six inch claws that could take a man’s head off with ease. Their jaws are fitted with razor edged teeth that grow continuously so they have to bite and gnaw to keep them from becoming too large for their jaws. They make short work of bones but also use their teeth to gnaw at the tunnel walls to get to the Cornium Ore they need for its mineral content. The Cornium Ore is a necessary part of their diet and wherever it is mined, the Uvees are found. The Cleaners’ basic strategy when working the tunnels is simple. One acts as bait, luring the creature out into the open so that the other two can kill it with their SB17’s, a weapon made especially for the purpose. The SB17 uses laser light pulses of a certain wavelength that only react with flesh instead of explosive bullets that might cause damage to the tunnels and cause rock falls. Even so, the turnover of cleaners is high and the average lifespan hovers around the twelve to eighteen month mark. Consequently the pay is high and the time off is good. Eight hours on then eight off continuously for three days, after which you get three days off. The system works well enough although there is a bit of a black market for anyone wanting extra hours. It is not strictly allowed for cleaners to deal with each other to do extra duties. As the rotation system gives them only eight hours off at any one time, double duties mean going for sixteen hours straight with only eight off and tired cleaners get themselves killed. The management knows it goes on of course and they turn a blind eye on the understanding that the death of anyone killed during an illicit double duty would not incur compensation for their families left behind.
Farra got along with her co workers well enough and managed to avoid the lewd propositions one or two of them put to her on a monotonously regular basis. They were a dirty, greasy bunch and the thought of doing the wild thing with any one of them sickened her. She remembered her therapist who said she should consider the prospect that she might be homosexual and laughed to herself. The men here were disgusting enough but the thought of doing it with any of the women here was worse. She determined never to allow herself to end up looking like any of the women here so she paid attention to her hygiene. Although she is tough, she is a beautiful woman and she was going to make sure she stayed that way. She hated the way the dust and greasy atmosphere made her hair look and feel. A natural brunette, she has long, thick hair that she kept tied up on top. Moxal 3 is peppered with thermal vents, so hot water is plentiful and she washed herself and her hair twice every day but still she remained sweaty and always felt greasy. Her survival technique skills came in very handy and she soon made herself a plentiful supply of skin exfolliant from the salt tablets they issued everyone with, mixed with a little cooking oil she managed to get from the kitchen staff by trading a pack of cigarettes. Although she doesn’t smoke, she always has packs on her for trading purposes.
She survived her first three day tour of duty and earned herself seventy two hours off. She slept the first fourteen hours straight and only awoke when she heard her name being called softly. The pain in her chest was now just a dull throb and as she opened her eyes she saw Leon standing beside her bed. She only saw him in her dreams before and she was struck by the presence of the man. She was shocked to see him so solidly for the first time. No longer just a shade, he now towered over her, a magnificent specimen of his race with a steely gaze and a no nonsense energy. Without even needing to ask she knew he could read her mind. His eyes shifted from holding her gaze down to her chest.
"Look," he smiled. She went to the piece of broken mirror nailed to the stud wall of her cabin and looked. The bruise on her chest was now gone and replaced with what looked like a small scar in the shape of a star.
"What the?" she exclaimed as she turned and looked at Leon, the question left hanging in the air.
"You are one of us now; we give you this gift as a symbol of our belief and trust, of our unyielding faith and of our love. Find him Farra, the time has come. Find the Animal. Find Prince Toma. Free him and you'll be ready for the most important task of your life."
There are basic recreational facilities in the complex for use by off duty personnel and she wasted no time in making full use of them. It was a surprisingly easy task to find out about the existence of The Animal. All it took was the offer of a drinking contest and once her unwitting opponent was out of his mind drunk he was only too eager to talk. He sang like the proverbial canary. Prince Toma was something of a celebrity prisoner in the tunnel complex and although not a prison, he was kept there because the nature of the place helped ensure no one would risk a rescue attempt for fear of the Uvees that lurked in the dark. All she needed to do was befriend the appropriate Rangers and with payment of a modest fee, she could get to see him. Five packs of cigarettes later she was being escorted through the tunnels by Ranger Mason.
She was surprised to find that the prisoner was not locked up but just held within a small room. The fear of the Uvees was enough to ensure he dare not try to run. She didn't know quite what to expect as she entered his room but whatever it was, it wasn't the sight that greeted her. The first thing that struck her were his eyes. Such kind eyes she had never seen before. They were a sort of yellow colour and were slightly larger than one would think normal. Those eyes were mesmerising, they held her. She didn't quite know what to say so she just stared at him. A small throb in the middle of her chest reminded her of the task in hand.
"Hello Toma," she said softly. The prisoner looked at her in surprise. He obviously expected to be abused and she realised that these visits were probably a fairly regular occurrence. She wondered what he suffered at the hands of her work colleagues and she suddenly felt angry for him. "I am a friend. I'm here to help but I don't have time to explain now. When I come next time, be ready to leave with me."
He started to speak, to question her and as he did so she suddenly realised why everyone called him The Animal. His kind yellow eyes, dark curly hair and muscular body all worked together to form what looked like a very finely formed human. It was those fangs that gave him away. A sharp intake of breath gave away her surprise; she hadn't expected this.
"Sorry," he said and turned away embarrassed.
She was immediately shamed. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't know. I've never met anyone like you before, please forgive me." She hoped she hadn't ruined things before they'd begun. If he wouldn't trust her they were sunk.
"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you. I'm not an animal," he said.
She went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Be ready." She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and left the room.
A week later she awoke in the middle of the night, the dull throb in her chest now an automatic signal for her to listen for Leon's telepathic instructions. When she was safely alone he would appear solidly, otherwise he spoke inside her mind and she learned to listen and trust.
"Ok, you're the boss." She tried to sound light hearted but both knew she was a little apprehensive. That was okay; a little apprehension would give her just enough adrenaline to keep her sharp.
It seemed to take forever to make her way along the tunnels and it was very disconcerting not being able to see and needing to follow Leon’s instructions as to where to put her feet. After an hour she was beginning to understand why she never enjoyed playing blind man's buff as a kid. She groped her way along a half mile of dusty tunnels, down creaking stairwells and rusty mezzanines but finally Leon made her stop and wait. She could see a doorway framed in a dull light up ahead. At Leon’s command her training in stealth combat came in handy and she crept up behind the single guard and with a quick movement he dropped to the floor. She silently put him out without killing him and entered Toma's room. She was out of breath and put her hand up to her eyes to shield them from the sudden light.
"It's time, come on,” she said and Toma was at her side in an instant.
Together they began the painfully slow business of making their way down into the deepest levels of the tunnel complex. The two of them carried no weapons on them save for her blades which were useless against the Uvees. In order to use a blade on them she’d need to get so close that she’d be toast before she could unsheathe them so stealth was the order of the day. Four hours it took them to make their way half a mile through the tunnels. Many times they needed to hide and wait while creatures crept past sometimes so close they could smell their acrid breath. Just when Farra was beginning to wonder if they'd ever get out of this place, a swift blow on an aged rusty padlock brought them both stumbling out under a clear star filled night sky. So wonderful to be able to see again and the air, so fresh and clean! She decided that if she ever went blind she would commit suicide.
The clean air revived them both and after some much needed water, they ran directly westward for three hours until all at once Toma stopped and hunkered down by some rocks.
“What’s up?” she asked, concerned that something was wrong.
"Nothing. May I borrow one of your blades?" he asked her.
"Yes err sure, why?" She took the blade from its sheath and handed it to him.
"Watch," he smiled and quickly made a clean incision into his forearm and she saw that his blood was as red as hers. She didn’t know what she expected it to look like but she hadn’t expected it to look quite so much like hers. He handed back her knife and gently pressed open the wound to reveal a tiny glinting metallic object the size of a peanut just under the skin. Using a fingernail, he gently removed it, then reached inside his jacket and took out a small phial that contained something blue. He spread this blue gunk over the wound and held it up for her to see. “Watch this,” he smiled. She watched in amazement, her eyes widening as she saw the wound he just made with her own blade, heal itself right up until there wasn’t a mark to be seen.
“Shit, what is that stuff? Can I have some of that?”
“It’s a common salve, nothing special,” he laughed at her incredulity and handed her the phial. “A small token of my gratitude and the first of many.”
“Thanks.” She took the phial and examined it more closely. The blue stuff looked just like some kind of petroleum jelly. She put it safely into her backpack and watched as Toma held up the object he removed from his arm. It was the size of a peanut and a similar shape but it had a flat side and a curved side. It looked like polished metal. "What on earth is that?"
"Our ride out of here," he said as he gently pressed his thumb to the curved side of this little object which immediately began to beep quietly and pulse with a tiny light.
Four hours later a wind picked up around them and blew the dusty earth into their eyes. "Here they are," Toma said as he stood up and looked out into the middle of the dust storm. A small craft appeared out of the swirling dusty turmoil and landed hastily a hundred yards away, its engines as silent as the grave. Farra was in awe. Three men came running towards them, their joy at seeing Toma alive and well, obvious. They embraced each other and spoke together in a language she didn't understand. She suddenly felt self conscious. Toma took her hand and urged her towards the craft. "Come on, there'll be time for the formalities later."
The small rescue ship docked safely with the battle cruiser at a safe distance from the planet and she was introduced properly to Toma and his people. He was indeed a Drycenian Prince, the only heir of the current Drycenian King Lomas VII. He was captured whilst acting as envoy on a preliminary mission of goodwill to a nearby planetary system that was aimed at creating a system of mutually convenient and peaceful friendship and trade. She learned that a revolution of sorts had risen up with the intention of gaining control of the four local planetary systems, at the helm of which was a man no one knew the name of. He was both evil and mad, she heard and his delusional ravings inspired a band of desperate ne'er do wells into obeying his every whim on the promise of power and riches to come.
King Lomas looked into her face and suddenly went pale. Tears streamed down his cheeks. "What you have done for me, for the Drycenian Nation and for countless races across this sector of the galaxy will never be forgotten. We are and forever will be, in your debt. You have only to call and you will have my sword and my life." He put a hand on the hilt of the magnificent dagger that hung from his belt, stepped backwards a pace and bowed his head to her.
"Well I err, that is ermm, I err." She found herself lost for words and became aware that she suddenly didn't feel at all well. She stumbled and passed out.
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