Across The Sea of Stars

1

Far out in the reaches of the Antorian Galaxy, the massive mining ship NSA2275 cruised toward a remote planetary system, one of hundreds in that galaxy, just beyond a dwarf purple star.

The ship carried a crew of twenty-seven men, most of them tough seasoned miners who had been chosen for their expertise in operating equipment, excavation, and construction. They had been traveling for four years across the empty void and were nearing the end of their destination. Their mission was to locate a rare mineral.

The mineral, known as Illiseum, had been discovered on Ganymede, one of Jupiter’s sixty-three moons, less than a decade ago. It was named for the famous scientist Grigori Frank Illiseum, who had accidentally discovered how this mineral interacted with the fission process in nuclear reactors.

Illiseum found that when the mineral was added to the low-enriched uranium in nuclear fuel, it exponentially increased the output of energy. From that discovery came the development of the Alcubierre warp drive, which stretched space/time in a wave causing the fabric of space ahead of a spacecraft to contract and the space behind it to expand. This was not possible until the discovery of Illiseum because in order to form the warp field/bubble, a region of space-time with negative energy, there was not a sufficient way to create the amount of power required to build such a device.

Once the warp drive was built, tested, and perfected, it opened the door to interstellar space travel because, up until that time, exploration was virtually limited to the Earth’s solar system due to the vast distances to other parts of the galaxy. Now, man could far exceed the speed of light and travel to the far reaches of the galaxy and beyond.

There was one major problem. Only a very small amount of Illiseum had been found on Ganymede, only enough to power a small fraction of the fleet for less than ten years. Consequently, priority was given to utilize this small amount of Illiseum to six heavy-duty mining exploration ships. This is the story of one of those exploratory ships.

The NSA2275 and its counterparts—the NSA2270, NSA2271, NSA2272, NSA2273, and NSA2274—were massive ships, outfitted with the most advanced technological instrumentation and equipment that had ever been developed. They were built to carry heavy-duty mining equipment, along with six enormous shuttles for the purpose of transporting the equipment down to the surface of worlds to be explored. The shuttles were designed to withstand harsh, extreme environments, heavily shielded to prevent radiation, deadly cosmic rays, heat, cold, and toxic gases.

Each ship was sent to a different planetary system in our galaxy and beyond. The NSA2270 was sent to Epsilon Eridani, the NSA2271 to the Kepler 35A/B system to explore an earthlike planet named Kepler 452b, the NSA2272 to Centauri to explore Proxima b, the NSA2273 to Ursa Minor, the NSA2274 to Andromeda, and NSA2275 to a remote galaxy named Antor, which had recently been discovered with the new radial telescopes.

The NSA2275 had departed from the Jupiter Perimeter Space Dock on May 9, 2402, and took over four years to cover the twelve light-years before reaching the outer fringes of the Antorian galaxy, which was by far the greatest distance any of the exploratory ships had been sent.

Looks like most of the planets in this system are gas giant’s captain, with the exception of the sixth planet, said Buddy Breaux, the senior navigator, as he adjusted the controls of the radial telescope. Seems like it might even have an atmosphere, still too far out to tell.

How long before we reach the system, Buddy? asked Stan Silver, the captain of the NSA2275.

My calculations indicate that we should arrive within six days traveling at our current velocity.

Stan Silver had graduated in the top third of his class from the esteemed Brightmore Planetary Space Academy at the age of twenty-four in 2382. He was forty-four years old when they departed from the Jupiter Perimeter Space Dock, tall at 6'3", with salt-and-pepper hair, and a widower, whose wife had perished in an explosion in the propulsion lab at the Mars Research Center when he was thirty-five years old. He had very pale blue eyes that made him stand out in a crowd and a thin scar that ran from the corner of his right eye to the top of his right cheek.

Stan got the scar when he was six years old and living in Pascagoula, Mississippi, where his father was a welder at the Stromberg Space Works. They had lived in a small factory-owned house, in the shadow of the monstrous space shipyard. It was a blue-collar neighborhood, where little kids were picked on by neighborhood toughs and bullies.

It had been a cold Halloween night. The neighborhood bully, a hulking fat slob of a kid by the name of Tud Vogas, had dared little baby sucky pants to run around crazy old lady Sikes place three times cranking his noise maker.

Poor little baby sucky pants, he had chanted, along with his gang of neighborhood toughs. Needs his momma to burp his little baby sucky pants.

I’m no baby sucky pants, Stan had shouted back. I’ll show you, who’s a baby sucky pants Tud, you are! I’m not scared of that old lady, and I’ll prove it!

So he had taken off around old lady Sikes house hollering trick or treat and cranking on his pumpkin orange noise maker. It was a dark night with drizzling misty rain, and he was careless. He was so mad and focused on showing the bullies that he was not a baby sucky pants that on his very first time around the house he ran into a pile of gravel near the back porch. He fell hard, his face smashing into the coarse gravel, causing him to skin his upper lip and gash his forehead just below the right eye. With blood and tears oozing down his cheeks, he had frantically searched on his hands and knees for his noisemaker and spilled candy.

But the porch light had come on and crazy old lady Sikes had come bursting out of the back door with a flashlight in one hand and a broom in the other. She was screaming like a mad woman all sorts of obscenities and seemed hell bent on putting the hurt on the first person she got her hands on.

He had managed to elude her in the darkness, leaving behind the noisemaker and candy. Several years later, after the old lady had died, he was attending an estate sale on her property and had spotted the noisemaker sitting on a desk shelf in her living room. He had smiled and unconsciously rubbed the thin pale scar on his face.

Stan gazed out of the oval control room window at the distant sea of unblinking stars. What if Jenna hadn’t died? he thought to himself. Where would I be today, and what would I be doing? Not here for sure. I would definitely not have volunteered for this mission, but she did die, and here I am—light-years from home and heading to an uncertain future.

Sir, said Buddy, snapping Stan out of his momentary reverie. What are your orders?

Sorry, Buddy, my mind was somewhere else. Maintain current velocity and set a navigational course for the sixth planet.

Roger that.

Stan waved the palm of his hand across the ships communication system. All hands, listen up. We have established visual confirmation of the first planetary system within the Antorian Galaxy. We are approximately six days out. The system consists of seven planets, mostly gas giants excluding the sixth planet, which might or might not have an atmosphere. It is too hard to tell at this distance. Either way, we are prepared for the worst scenario, so that is our first objective. I have asked Buddy to set a course toward that distant world. In the meantime, we need to start preparing for planet fall. There will be a meeting at 0800 tomorrow morning in the main conference auditorium. Everyone needs to attend. We will be covering all aspects of the operation. That is all.

Hot damn, said Charlie Bogan, who was sitting in the lounge chewing on a plug of tobacco. It’s about goddamn time we got off this sardine can," he drawled, wiping some of the nasty tobacco juice from his stubbly chin.

Charlie Bogan, the foreman of the heavy equipment crew, was an ignoramus; that is the only way to describe him. Even as a child, he was mean, uncouth, an instigator, and a real pain in the ass. He had done things that ordinary kids did not do, like take money out of the church collection plate, hide behind tall grass and pelt the garbage men with gourds, teach the neighbor’s three-year-old how to curse, steal fried pies from the grocery store, just to mention a few of the bizarre things he did. He liked to drink, cuss, and make fun of people. He had a name for everyone, which generally meant that they were old, fat, skinny, had pimples, deformities, ugly, normal; it did not matter. Everyone had a problem, but not Charlie; he was normal or so he thought. He was kicked out of the boy scouts for smuggling malt liquor on a rattlesnake roundup and expelled from high school for flushing homemade flash bang crackers down the commode. He never graduated.

Unfortunately, if they don’t get killed or locked up, people like Charlie Bogan have to wind up someplace and cause misery in the lives of ordinary people. And what is really sad is when they are placed in a roll of authority through sheer destiny, being in the right place at the right time. So here he was, thirty years later, light-years from the flashbang cracker incident—crew boss of the heavy equipment operators on the NSA2275: a short portly red-faced man with a huge belly that hung over his belt. The belly hid a large silver belt buckle that had the initials C. B. embossed on it. He always wore a hard hat when he was out of his quarters that had BOSS stenciled across the front and a thick ring of keys hung from one of his belt loops, which slapped against his upper thigh and made a clicking sound when he walked. No one knew why he had so many keys on his key ring, but some figured that they were a display of power and authority with most of them having nothing to do with anything.

Stan stood on the podium and looked out at the assembled group of men. They were a motley bunch, all chosen for their trade and expertise, not their looks. Stan knew them all, having been provided a dossier on each one prior to the expedition. He knew some better than others due to personal interface with the crew chiefs (only Charlie Bogan called himself BOSS) at the weekly meetings.

Jubal Richards, the first engineer, was sitting in the first row of seats along with Kevin Davis, second engineer; Ralph Doggett, drilling chief; Charlie Bogan, heavy equipment chief; Art Demming, logistics supervisor; Buddy Breaux, senior navigator; and Danny Razzo, communications engineer and information technology specialist. In the second row sat Lance Knight, medic; Shine Levis, geologist; Juby Allican, head cook; Billy Barton, second cook; and Booger Johnson, Jamie Garcia, and Pud Lawson, heavy equipment operators. The third and fourth rows were taken up by drillers, mechanics, and heavy equipment operators.

Gentlemen, it has been a long haul, and I’m sure you are all tired of being cooped up in this ship, said Stan. As I announced yesterday, we have finally reached the outer fringes of the Antorian Galaxy and have pinpointed our first candidate for exploration.

A cheer went up from the group.

We should be arriving in the orbit of the sixth planet within that system in five days. So we need to start preparing for planet fall. I don’t need to tell you what needs to be done, but if any of you have any questions, now is the time to ask them.

A hand went up in the third row.

Señor Captain, can you tell us what conditions we will be facing on this planet?

Stan recognized the man but couldn’t quite remember his name at first glance, but then it came to him—Pepe Vella, one of the earthwork operators. He had not had very much interface with the man during their long voyage because he worked down in the high bay and didn’t get top side very often, so it took him a moment to place him.

We are still too far away to tell what the environment is like, only that it is most likely solid, not a gas giant as the other planets in that system and that it might or might not have an atmosphere. However, once we get within range with our sensors, we should be able to determine the characteristics of the planet. If that’s all of the questions, everyone is dismissed.

Okay, boys, time ta lock and load, said the portly red-faced Charlie Bogan to his crew of heavy equipment operators. Pepe, you, Rudy, and Stanton do a final prep on the articulated haulers and soil stabilizers. Peters, Garcia, and Morrow, take thuh power shovels, loaders, and excavators. Rayland and Booger, you two peckerwoods check out thuh cranes, scrapers, and dozers.

That blooming asshole Rayland whispered to Booger. Peckerwoods! Hell, he’s the peckerwood.

Snap to it, boys, you heard what the capin said.

The ship was a hubbub of activity over the next few days. Final preparations were made and rehearsed to ensure the utmost efficiency and safety of the mission. The ship to ground shuttles were checked and double-checked for pressure leaks, proper ventilation, communication, and computer glitches and to ensure that all of the equipment was properly tied down.

As the massive ship approached the Antorian planetary system, Stan gazed out at the distant dwarf purple star. Buddy, we better get a reading on that dying star. It is most likely putting out enough deadly gamma rays to melt this ship.

Aye, aye, sir.

And find out the latest information on that sixth planet.

Sir, radiation levels are in the danger zone.

Activate radiation shield immediately, and let me know as soon as you find out what our sensors are picking up on that planet. I’m going down into the hold on deck three to check status of the equipment.

Yes, sir, will do.

The sight was impressive. All of the equipment was lined up in the high bay in neat rows for almost as far as the eye could see: wheel dozers, trucks, loaders, scrapers, cranes, excavators, heavy hydraulics, and a host of other equipment.

Everything is in tiptop shape, Capin, said Charlie Bogan as he appeared from around an oversized bulldozer, wiping the tobacco juice from his chin and rubbing it on his sleeve. Good to go. I’s had my boys all over this equipment time and time again, servicin’, oilin’, and cleanin’, jist watin fer thuh day.

Well, Mr. Bogan, from the looks of things, you have performed remarkably.

Captain, please report to the bridge as soon as possible, came a voice over the intercom.

Got to run, Mr. Bogan, keep up the good work. He left Charlie Bogan standing there with a toothy grin on his pudgy face, in the middle of a very long isle of mining equipment.

Okay, Buddy, what have you got?

Captain, we have been able to determine that the planet is most definitely solid, has a limited atmosphere, and has a mean temperature of 96 Fahrenheit. Also, our sensors have detected a very faint warbling sound coming from the planet.

Warbling sound?

Yes, it is not constant, just seems to come and go. At first I thought it was just some sort of atmospheric distortion, but if you listen closely, it is more like the sound produced from an ancient musical saw, a constant wavering sound.

That’s strange. Can you hear it right now?

Yes, although it is not easy to detect through all of the space static. We should be able to hear it more clearly the closer we get.

Here, let me listen, Stan said taking the headphones from Buddy and sitting down.

At first, the only sound he could hear was deep space static, but after straining his ears and concentrating with all his might, he heard it.

Yes, you’re right, there is definitely some sort of wavering sound, but I can barely hear it above all of the static. I wonder what in the devil could be making it.

He sat there listening for the next few minutes, and then the sound disappeared and only static filled his ears.

It’s gone, he said looking over at Buddy and Kevin. That is really strange. I wonder if it is some sort of signal.

I guess it could be, but a signal from who or what? asked Buddy.

Hopefully we’ll find out when we get there, said Kevin. It sure has my curiosity."

Keep me posted if you pick it up again. I’m going down to my quarters to catch a couple hours of sleep.

Roger that, Captain, will do.

As Stan was leaving the bridge, the third planet came into view. It was immense, about eight times larger than Earth, most definitely a gas giant with an ultraviolet tint.

Jubal, he said, let’s send down a probe and analyze the composition of this big boy.

Aye, aye, sir, probe launched.

2

In another part of the infinite universe and countless light-years away was the ancient planet of Voraxn. The planet itself was a barren wasteland of blowing sand, with an underlying core of solid rock.

Anchored deep through the sand and into the solid rock core were millions of merrillium tubes that supported interconnected cities that dotted the surface of the desolate planet.

The race of beings that lived on Voraxn were almost as old as the known universe and were very similar in appearance to humans with a few exceptions, such as the size of their brain, which was three inches larger causing the back of their skull to bulge out. However, with a full head of hair, it was not that noticeable if you were looking for differences or similarities. Their IQs were staggering, not measurable on the human scale, and they had limited telepathic ability. They were also very tall, averaging six three for men and six feet for women. The only major visible difference between a Voraxn and a human was the color and spacing of their eyes, which were approximately two centimeters farther apart with very pale milky blue eyes. Otherwise, they were the same down to having five fingers and toes.

Admiral Ill’ Adore, came a distant distressed shout from somewhere far down the seemingly, infinite, octagon-shaped corridor.

The old man turned around and looked back down the miles of glistening corridor that interconnected the hundreds of cities across the planet and spotted a tiny figure jogging toward him. He patiently waited as the person approached.

It was a second lieutenant dressed in a UPFF uniform. The admiral recognized the name embossed across the right breast of his uniform, Cefolia. He looked shaken, and the admiral could tell there was bad news coming.

Sir, he said half out of breath, saluting and standing at attention.

At ease, Lieutenant, he said, and returned the salute.

What’s happened?

"Sir, two badly burned crew members from the Philaria arrived through the VMT transfer station about an hour ago."

The commander’s face turned snow-white, and a cold damp sweat beaded up on his forehead and upper lip but—in spite of the dreadful news—managed to keep a calm commanding expression on his face.

Sir, are you feeling okay?

Yes, I’m fine, he lied.

The lieutenant was not aware of the fact that the admiral’s granddaughter, Kinxia, was on the Philaria or of the mental anguish that was tormenting his mind at the moment.

The Philaria, he thought, the mightiest, most beautiful piece of work ever designed. From the outside, it appeared like a bead of dew with a wisp of a tail. It was the color of paum, which was in the infrared spectrum, not detectable in the blackness of space.

It was an immense ship, over ten miles long, six miles wide, and five-and-a-half miles tall, equipped with weapons beyond description that dealt with the inner workings of animate creatures, imploders, censtrom cells, and a mind-destroying device called a Simex, which could be used to block thought probes or send out lethal mind-destroying impulses.

"What is the situation on the Philaria?"

Well, sir, the details are very sketchy.

Sketchy? Please explain, Lieutenant Perriel Cefolia.

The lieutenant was startled when the commander called him by his first name. How could he possibly know my name? he thought to himself. I’m so far down in the pecking order that I might as well be a Horn Pong on Boopheta.

But in fact, the admiral did know his name, although the two had never met until that moment. He and his grandfather were green recruits just out of the United Planetary Federation Academy. Their first assignment was aboard the Vadix, an outbound VMT expedition ship that had been traveling across the void for eighty-seven years at twice the speed of light.

The Voraxn’s knew that light speed was not the answer to exploring the universe. What they needed was something far better, something that could fold space and transport animate and inanimate objects to specific destinations. It took them several centuries and much trial and error, but finally there was a breakthrough.

A young man by the name of Anaxter discovered a method of breaking down electrons which bound the molecules in the atom. Over time, the discovery enabled them to isolate and decay the radicals in the atom. Consequently, matter could be reduced to a translucent form and moved into the ether.

This discovery eventually led to the development of the Verial Matter Transporter or VMT. The only problem was that in order to break down and transport matter, there had to be a receiving VMT at the other end. So ships were sent to install VMTs on distant worlds, some of them many light-years distant. Each ship was equipped with a VMT in order to rotate the crews back to Voraxn every thirty days.

Their ship had finally reached the Cianian planetary system and was in orbit above a yet unnamed planet, which had been discovered with the aid of Vorxan’s powerful radial telescopes several hundred years prior to the departure of the expedition. It had been pre-chosen due to its proximity to the star that it rotated around, not too cold, not too hot.

The crews had just been rotated on their thirty-day schedule, and he, along with Perrial Cefolia, were part of the new relief crew. They were assigned to accompany and guard the VMT survey team down to the surface of the planet so they could find a suitable site to build a VMT transfer station, which would open a door back to Voraxn.

However, things did not go as planned that day. First, they could not see the surface of the planet with their powerful telescopes because the atmosphere was clouded with a pea green composition unlike anything the Vorxan’s were familiar with. They sent down probes, but the instruments failed to send back any information. They bombarded the atmosphere with infrared and ultraviolet wave imaging, but to no avail, so the decision was made to send down the team anyway and hope for the best.

The best would have been to have stayed aboard the ship, he thought to himself.

They had boarded one of the small heavily armored exploratory stub shuttles. It was crammed