Origins: Revolution (Crew Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  Origins:

  Revolution

  Crew Chronicles Book 2

  By Mark Henrikson

  Key Move Publications, LLC

  Copyright Mark Henrikson, 2017

  St. Louis Missouri

  DON’T MISS THESE OTHER

  EXCITING ORIGINS TITLES

  Origins Series:

  Book 1: Origins

  Book 2: Centurion’s Rise

  Book 3: Reformation

  Book 4: The Reich

  Book 5: A Greater Good

  Crew Chronicles Series:

  Book 1: Discovery

  Book 2: Revolution

  Book 3: Empire (Spring 2018)

  Book 4: Emancipation (Spring 2019)

  Book 5: The Great War (Spring 2020)

  This one is for Donna.

  On June 3, 2016, I lost someone very important to me. She was my biggest fan, most ardent supporter, a gifted cover artist, and a rock star editor. Most important of all, she was an off the charts fantastic mother. Donna Henrikson, it was a privilege to have known you and a true blessing to have been raised by you. Godspeed…

  .

  Prologue: The Road Not Taken

  ‘Two Roads Diverged in a yellow wood; And sorry I could not travel both; And be one traveler, long I stood; And looked down one as far as I could…’

  Valnor recited the famed opening of Robert Frost’s masterpiece for what had to be the thousandth time in his mind. The point to the poem was to make a decision and get on with it already. Easier said than done there, Bobby.

  The sage advice worked well while standing before an open closet deciding what color pants or dress to wear. The choice was made and life moved on without another thought. The wise council started breaking down when say a medical doctor needed to choose between two treatments for a patient. A life actually depended on that decision; still, it was not the physician’s life on the line. When billions of lives and the fate of an entire civilization hung in the balance…well…Mr. Frost’s advice could go have intimate relations with itself at that point.

  The only place Valnor felt confident in turning for guidance now were the lessons and examples given to him by his former captain and mentor, Hastelloy. It always seemed that any strategy the captain employed was analyzed and planned down to the minutest detail. He stood long and looked down each path as far as he could. Every eventuality, favorable or not, was already considered and countered by his brilliant gift for contingency planning. The running joke among the Lazarus crew was Captain Hastelloy did not even go to the bathroom without a backup plan.

  If only the captain were here now, then Valnor could trust that everything was covered. It was the nature of any military man to strive for a higher command and greater responsibility. Now that Valnor had reached the pinnacle of his career, he feared the responsibility was more than he could shoulder.

  Valnor longed for the carefree days of doing what he was told by his superior. Life was simpler, more enjoyable back then. Now, Valnor labored tirelessly to emulate Hastelloy’s gifts for strategy and planning, but tired he was. Leadership, as it turned out, was exhausting work with no respite. There was always another eventuality to consider, or a current scheme to manage.

  Not only was Hastelloy not here to help Valnor with this paramount decision. The captain’s ancient life force was no longer in existence; ironically, as a direct result of his own contingency planning.

  When the Lazarus crew was first rescued from their four thousand years spent marooned on an outer rim planet they came to know as Earth, the crewmembers were elated. All those years spent protecting the Nexus device and the twenty million Novi life forces housed inside came to a successful end. The shine of that joy quickly tarnished when the crew realized that the Novi were nothing like the people they once knew. The disappearance of the Fifth Fleet had changed them, and not for the better.

  The crew found the Republic, which once held the sanctity of all life in the highest regard, replaced by a leadership that preyed on a fearful people. The chancellor and his ilk engendered a paranoia and xenophobic mistrust of other races in the Novi that ultimately led to unspeakable atrocities. Entire worlds were eradicated to eliminate even the slightest chance that an advancing civilization could pose a threat to the Novi some day in the future.

  When that paranoia brought the people of Earth into the crosshairs of the Republic’s final solution, Hastelloy stood tall and delivered in what became his finest hour.

  The captain allowed himself to be put on trial for protecting Earth, and in doing so, drew the entire corrupted leadership of the Republic into one place to bask in the assured verdict of their kangaroo court. The intention was to execute Hastelloy inside a chamber that would prevent a Nexus device from capturing and reanimating his life force. The actual result was that intended mischief was bestowed upon every attendee in the courtroom that day, not just Captain Hastelloy.

  Valnor relived that fateful event every night when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He had recently assumed command of his first star ship with his fellow Lazarus crewmembers, Commander Gallono, and Science Officer Tonwen serving under him.

  “What in the six corners of the universe is going on down there?” Valnor asked of his bridge officers as they watched on screen as the courtroom proceedings took place on the planet below. “If a ship in orbit is interfering with the Nexus we need to find it, now.”

  “I’ve already located the source,” Tonwen announced as Commander Gallono approached holding a data pad in his hands.

  “Where is it then?” Valnor asked while taking the pad.

  “Close by.”

  Valnor looked down at the data pad and recognized it as a targeting program. He evaluated the coordinates expecting to find a ship in orbit as the target, but instead, all the ship’s weapons were trained on the planet’s surface.

  “What is this?”

  “You were the lynchpin to his plan right from the start,” Gallono explained. “The moment Captain Hastelloy realized that the current leaders of the Novi Republic were every bit the galactic terrorists that the Alpha once were, he planned for this moment.”

  “Planned for what?” Valnor asked, hoping for a different answer than the one he felt coming.

  “No more Alpha, no more invincible Republic fleet, and all of the hardliners assembled in one place to revel in his guilty verdict and imminent execution. This was all set up for you.”

  “Twenty million officers from the Fifth Fleet alive again and still loyal to the Old Republic ways. Add to that the billions of Novi like Pacis and Bellum yearning for their voices for peace to be heard, and you have a bona fide revolution behind you,” Tonwen explained.

  “Me?” Valnor asked.

  “You are the people’s hero, the Chancellor himself said as much,” Gallono instructed. “Back on Earth, you were the one who found Rome made of bricks and left it built of marble to stand the test of time. You did it once and you will do it again. You were groomed for this by the very best.”

  “What do I do now?” Valnor asked.

  “You do your duty for the greater good as Captain Hastelloy has done his,” Gallono answered with a hand pointing to the data pad and its targeting program. “These were your captain’s final orders.”

  Valnor drew a deep breath and before any doubts could enter his mind, he activated the firing program.

  Hastelloy’s life force came to an end on that day seven months ago, and Valnor was the triggerman. He rationalized the event by telling himself it was a direct order from his captain. He was a military man who respected the chain of command. When a superior said jump the response was to ask how high, no
t why. Valnor was ordered to fire, so he did.

  Odd that the moment where Valnor had no choice but to follow orders gave rise to an endless string of decisions for him to make, all with profound consequences and open-ended questions weighing them down. At the moment, on the eve of battle, Valnor had to choose his path.

  Two paths diverged near a yellow nebula, and he could not travel both. One direction led to a tenuous partnership with Gentem, a fierce nationalist who led the Hardliner faction of the now splintered Novi Republic. The man stood for everything Valnor and his Traditionalist faction opposed, yet they needed each other to push back the alien races moving in to take advantage of the chaotic state of the Novi.

  The other path led to an equally fragile partnership with species Delta in the pending engagement by accepting their covert proposal to turn on Gentem’s forces. The race had a long history of respecting the old republic ways and only sought to end the Hardliners and their draconian ideals.

  Which path should Valnor take? Ally with his own people who sponsored detestable values, or a foreign race that shared his ideals? The answer came down to trust. Trust, in turn, was derived from understanding the motivation behind people’s actions.

  Captain Hastelloy had been a master of understanding and manipulating people and their motives to serve his needs. The captain would know what to do, but this was Valnor’s moment. He had to trust himself and his judgment. To do that, he reflected on his prior successes.

  Back in ancient Rome, Valnor stepped into a raging civil war. There he managed to navigate the many battles and treacherous political waters and came out on the winning side of history as Augustus Caesar. He consolidated the known world, which vaulted humanity technologically forward, and set up an empire that reigned supreme for over a thousand years.

  When disaster struck with the black plague and plunged humanity into the Dark Ages, it was Valnor again who righted the ship. In that instance, Valnor followed his instincts and went against Hastelloy’s orders to ultimately bring about the Renaissance.

  Still, Valnor’s past was not all success stories. In fact, he considered his most recent charge to be his greatest failure. The American Revolution was a time of great upheaval and a maelstrom of motivations driving people’s actions on both sides of the conflict. Back then Valnor was certain he had every contingency covered, just as Captain Hastelloy would have done. Yet he never saw the most dangerous threat of all until it was too late.

  Perhaps spending some time reflecting on that experience would provide him some insight into the here and now. With that thought, Valnor allowed his mind to drift back to a simpler time. He could almost hear the clanking of beer mugs and the singing of bar songs in the Freemason’s lodge he led near Edinburgh, Scotland.

  Chapter 1: Societies and Their Secrets (1750)

  As Valnor walked down the narrow cobblestone streets of Edinburgh, he could not help noticing how the evening light cast a reddish glow upon the west facing buildings. This stood in stark contrast to the whitewashed structures on the other side of the street facing east. It yielded a stunning and beautiful effect, but also delivered a haunting feeling that Valnor was walking a narrow path that lay between white and red, good and evil, heaven and hell.

  The notion brought an amused grin to his lips. He died countless times already during his existence and had yet to meet any maker. The notion of some final judgment was a human superstition made all the more real to them by the numerous artists who chose to depict angels and the devil in such colors and light. The grin lingered as he rounded the corner onto Niddry Wynd Street, but immediately flattened at what he saw. Halfway down the street on the right hand side stood his destination; a narrow, two-story structure drenched in a red glow.

  The building’s original use was as a chapel dedicated to Saint Mary, and still bore her namesake. In the present, it saw use as a meeting hall rather than a place of worship. As evidence to that purpose, the sound of boisterous pub songs emanated from within, which Valnor could hear clear as a bell from half a block’s distance.

  He usually looked forward to these monthly meetings, but this evening was different. Ten or more high-ranking members from other lodges were in town to attend. These were men of extreme wealth and influence. It was that magnitude of influence over England and the majority of European politics that prompted Captain Hastelloy to have Valnor join the ranks of the Fraternal Order of the Freemasons.

  England, Ireland, Scotland, Spain, France, Italy, Germany, and more all had Freemason lodges within their borders. Their members held countless titles, cabinet or ministry positions within their respective governments. Any organization with that much power and money backing its activities bore watching. Valnor’s assignment began over twenty years ago, and he still had yet to see evidence of anything other than a civic-minded organization that valued charitable endeavors from its membership.

  In all those years, this was the first time a large contingent of such high-ranking members made the journey to Edinburgh. On special occasions, one or two esteemed brothers from London would make the trip to Scotland. The last time was three years ago for Valnor’s promotion to the 33rd degree and designation as Grand Master of the lodge. The true reason behind so many distinguished guests attending tonight’s meeting continued to elude Valnor.

  That uneasiness lingered as he opened the front door and stepped into a festive scene. Tables and chairs filled a twenty-five by sixty-foot room that featured a well-stocked bar extending the entire length of the room along one wall. The other made way for a staircase leading upstairs to the formal meeting hall. However, there was nothing formal taking place in the bar as two hundred men hoisted their flasks in the air and swung them from side to side while reciting Bonnie Dundee at the top of their lungs.

  Life was hard for most of these men. They labored all day in their fields or at their trades, and then returned home to tend their domestic responsibilities only to wake up early the next day to do it all over again. They were ridden hard and put away wet every day of their lives except on Sundays at church and these meetings once a month on a Friday. Church with the family was fine, but leaving that family at home to share drinks with friends was cause for celebration, and celebrate they did.

  The Freemasons were technically a civic organization, but contrary to this, Valnor knew that for most it was an escape to an evening of manly fun and libations. The occasional good deed was thrown in for good measure as a necessary obligation to keep their nagging wives at bay.

  Valnor took a moment to survey the room, but saw no sign of their out of town guests. He knew every face in the room, which helped him relax a bit. One face in particular caught his attention as he set course for the bar to fetch a drink. On the way, he shook hands with a dozen or so men, but managed to avoid any extended conversations until he reached for the shoulder of an individual sitting alone at the bar.

  “Henry, my good man,” Valnor declared, which prompted the young man in his early twenties to turn and face him. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you at one of our meetings. Let me buy us some beers and you can tell me what’s kept you away these last few months.”

  “Life, death, and the obligations that both endow I’m afraid,” came a depressed response followed by a heavy sigh. “I’m sure you heard that Edmond died from the pox a few months back.”

  “I did, and I’m sorry my friend. I know the two of you were close,” Valnor offered as condolence.

  “I sponsored him in the Masons for the last eight years,” Henry went on. “He was like a brother.”

  “How are his wife and kids getting on?” Valnor asked to divert the topic a bit. “He had a boy and a girl; rather young, right?”

  “Eight and ten,” Henry confirmed with a nod. “The lodge helped her with the burial costs and the first few weeks after, but no one will hire her. Not that she could work outside the home anyway, there is nobody to watch her kids. She’s got no family left in these parts or anywhere else for that matter.”


  “I take it that’s why you haven’t made many meetings lately then. You’ve been picking up extra work to help her out?”

  “Anything and everything I can find,” Henry replied with a raise of his mug to salute Valnor’s own generosity in buying him the beverage.

  “She must be grateful beyond words for your assistance.”

  “That old crone has hated me since the moment I introduced Edmond to the Masons. She doesn’t approve of these activities,” Henry said with a nod toward his mug before taking a gulp. “She never understood the brotherhood of this lodge.”

  Valnor gave his friend an understanding pat on the shoulder. “How could she, it’s a secret society after all. Speaking of secrets, does she know the money is coming from you?”

  “No. She would never accept it from me. The priest was good enough to act as a go between. As far as she knows, it’s manna from heaven,” Henry said with a glint of pride in his eye.

  “Supporting two families on a soldier’s salary? You must be working yourself to death,” Valnor marveled.

  “It is my duty to Edmond both as his friend and as his sponsor in the order. I’m honored to do my part.”

  “If you keep this selflessness up, you’ll reach the top level of the order in record time,” Valnor observed.

  “I believe you hold that distinction by reaching the 33rd rank in just under twenty-two years,” Henry countered before gesturing with a nod toward the stairs behind Valnor. “My father and some of his friends are heading this way. Looks like you have some serious business that needs attending tonight. Thanks for the drink, and good luck.”

  “My pleasure,” Valnor said before giving Henry a casual salute by touching an index finger to his brow before pointing the digit toward his friend and giving him a wink. The gesture would have offended most military men, but it had become something of an inside joke between the two of them.