New Earth Stories Volume One

New Earth Stories

Volume 1: The Last Urgian

By C.G. Standridge

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Chris Standridge

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This ebook is a work of science fiction. Any references to real events, situations, organizations, or locations are only intended to give the story a ‘sense’ of reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

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Acknowledgements:

Cover concept by C.G. Standridge and Tina Weatherley. Story by C.G. Standridge.

Cover art: U.F.F. Remote Probe-213, Camera Frame 361. Backdrop: Sunrise over Planet Dominous and its two moons.

Special thanks to:

Tina Weatherley, for inspiration and patience, and for helping this project come together. Dro, for being there every step of the way. Mark Coker and Smashwords, for making this publication possible. My Dad, for the determination to see it through.

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In memory of Ted Standridge, my brother and my friend.

For those who dare to dream in color.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1-Initial Daily

Chapter 2-Chow

Chapter 3-Sasha Molina

Chapter 4-Secrecy Within the Ranks

Chapter 5-Final Preparations

Chapter 6-Sarge’s Orders

Chapter 7-Landing Sequence

Chapter 8-Grand Marshall Graves

Chapter 9-Security Detail

Chapter 10-Rainy Days

Chapter 11-Diplomatic Theory

Chapter 12-Diplomatic Error

Chapter 13-Surprise Party

Chapter 14-First Impressions

Chapter 15-Gray Forest

Chapter 16-Hypythian Exile

Chapter 17-Acceptance

Chapter 18-Med Bay-3

Chapter 19-Vish

Chapter 20-Dro, the last Urgian

Chapter 21-Pichi, the Furry One

Chapter 22-The Life of Dalia

Chapter 23-Journey of Faith

Chapter 24-Unveiled Thoughts

Chapter 25-M’Ookita and Shirm

Chapter 26-The Lucian Empire

Chapter 27-Plans and Vorick

Chapter 28-Analogies

Chapter 29-Dro

Chapter 30-Rough Waters

Chapter 31-Pyt Ranks

Chapter 32-Su-Soga

Chapter 33-Reaching the LZ

Chapter 34-Retaliatory Strike

Chapter 35-Turning the Tables

Chapter 36-Narrow Escape

Chapter 37-Teachings

Chapter 38-Davista, the Insane One

Chapter 39-Palomar and Gaid

Chapter 40-Kun-Asuru

Chapter 41-Reunion

Chapter 42-Return of Van

Chapter 43-Seike Vinya, Bio-Shaper

Chapter 44-The Results

Chapter 45-My Revelation

Chapter 46-Allied Guild Outpost 147

Chapter 47-Blood Fleet

Chapter 48-Valissa’s Stand

Chapter 49-The Battle

Chapter 50-Supernova

Chapter 51-Escaping with Truth

Chapter 52-Return to K’Neke

Chapter 53-Lucian History

Chapter 54-Preparing for War

Chapter 55-The Dedlathe

Chapter 56-Van of War

Chapter 57-The Plan

Chapter 58-Incentives

Chapter 59-Captain’s Log

About the Author

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Preface

As the radiation and pollution decimated our homeworld, we had sought salvation. A special project held promise within a world of impending calamity. The brightest minds had combined to complete what had become known as ‘Project Vida’. Our final hope.

Project Vida was said to have designed a new type of energy, which could be applied to a vital means of vacating our diseased world. Five large starships became the goal. Only five. Starships capable of virtually limitless deep-space travel.

Supplies and equipment had been custom-developed for those massive ships. Enough to sustain the survivors for an estimated six generations, which must have seemed like sufficient time for the completion of their lone mission. Survival.

Each ship was capable of housing six thousand individuals. Two thousand crew, and four thousand civilians. Only a small fraction of the booming population. However, those chosen people were our last hope.

The human race was desperate to continue. Those five vessels, and the thirty-thousand individuals they contained, had set off on the most important mission mankind has ever known.

Deep space was still mostly uncharted at that time. In the year 2019, the Project Vida ships left Earth. The final views of Earth had quickly faded into the distance.

Each ship headed away, knowing that returning to that dying world was not an option. Each one was responsible for finding a new planet, and a new beginning. Each one held the future of the human race. That was so long ago…

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Chapter 1, Initial Daily

Sequence activated. Enter all applicable information as required….

Date/Time: M2-Wednesday 14, 2087 (Earth Time)/ 1800HRS

Name: Carver, David J.

FRN: R-138-462 Status: Active Mobile Marine

Rerouting…. Military ‘Daily’ Mode-Condition: 8

TRV: Version 3 Mobile Marine Rank: T-4

Height: 5’ 11" Weight: 195 lbs. Current assignment: D-16

Please initialize personal notation….

Well, I have just initialized my first mandatory Daily. This is my first entry. I just completed my AMM (Active Mobile Marine) training.

I have graduated sixth in my class. Not bad for an on-boarder, right? I’m second generation on the UFF (United Federation Fleet) Starship Vida-Burgess.

I was born twenty years ago (Earth Time). As part of our studies, we had to review the planet my grandparents had escaped. They say that their generation had tried to prevent the chaos. Now, we’re simply searching for a new world.

They said Earth had been destroyed by our existence there. Human, I mean. It’s difficult to conceive. This ship isn’t a planet. It’s much smaller. We haven’t destroyed it. How could they have destroyed their own world? A whole planet!? That’s history, I guess.

My grandfather was young back then. He was only twenty-two when he landed the job in one of the factories that handled the fabrication of this ship. He was a laborer, but had worked his way up the ladder.

By launch date, he had become a team supervisor on one of the design committees for on-board technologies. He used to tell me the story behind his success.

Along the way, I have also learned that new worlds can’t be found easily. Five UFF vessels were sent into space. Only three exist today. One had landed on a strange planet, which seemed to be safe. It wasn’t. The final researcher had sent the warning message to the rest of the fleet.

His last words will forever be remembered in our archive. His name was Professor Walter Holloway. He was the leading science officer on his vessel, the UFF Starship Vida-Elizabeth. He was the man who had discovered, and named, the viral destroyer of all his associates.

He called it ‘Mega-Dymovirus’. Scanners had suggested it to be similar to the Rhinovirus from Earth. Nothing could have prepared those poor souls for the true nature of the bug that Professor Holloway had discovered.

By the time he had determined it to be nothing at all like the old Rhinovirus, it was already too late. Mega-Dymovirus had killed everyone on that ship in a matter of days. Another ship was also ill-fated.

The UFF Starship Vida-Wong. Core meltdown. Treachery from within. To learn of its destruction makes you question those around you. Who can be trusted? Will someone, here, trigger a core meltdown? Honestly, I can’t see this ship experiencing the same fate.

We are nearing a star system, which rivals that of Earth. Great similarity--and routine tests for Mega-Dymovirus--suggest the third planet in this system is greatly similar to Earth in many ways. Life, they say, is slightly different. We’re still waiting for the final analysis from our probe units.

I have to admit, I’m a little excited. I’m fresh out of the UFF Mobile Marine training. According to Marshall Graves, the MM overseeing officer, this new world may give us a chance to implement our training.

He says that large beasts lurk within the wooded areas. We might be mobilized to create a safe perimeter, if nothing else. What mystery awaits us? Will we find the proverbial paradise, or will death lurk around every corner?

Okay… I’ve seen a few too many movies on my dad’s T-Screen. I’ll have to maintain my bearing once we land. No room for mistakes--or fantasizing--on the battlefield.

My Senior Instructor, Master Sergeant Gately, has high expectations of my class. We are supposed to be the best. So, he says. We have a few decent snipers, heavy gunners, grenadiers and tankers. Now that I think about it, maybe he’s right.

I’m a Lance Corporal--on data. But, I’ve had no actual field time. If we are deployed, it will be a first for me. Still, I look forward to it.

I recall stories from my grandparents. They said that war had played a key role in the destruction of Earth. They also stated that everyday items and chemicals had polluted the home planet.

Their stories had given me a sense of what can go wrong. A sense of fear, accompanied by a need for preparedness. That’s why I enlisted.

The Mobile Marines are trained to survive in practically any situation. We are taught to fight with blindfolds on our eyes, or without using both hands. Well, not really. But, we are trained to maintain security at all times. No matter what.

We are trained on the best weaponry available. Our tanks and heavy insertion vessels are the best. I guess I’ve done enough bragging. The reason I started this Daily is to convey my thoughts and ideas for future reference. Of course, it is also a mandatory procedure for MM grunts. I have to keep an active record, whether I’m on a mission or not.

I have heard that this new world is inhabited by a human-like race. I’ve seen their vessels from the external viewers. Their technology appears to be more advanced than our own.

Marshall Graves seems to be intimidated by this, but he’ll never admit it. He’s been extra hard on us to stay ‘on our toes’ and ‘ready for war’.

Our pilot, UFF Captain Raquel Diaz, claims that they are civil and pose no actual threat. She has flown into their respective space on several occasions, in her own private shuttle. Rumor has it that she has conferred with them a few times.

I still haven’t seen them, or heard much about them. I’m a little curious as to what they look like, and whether or not I’ll ever have to battle them. But, it would be great if we could join forces.

It’s possible that the old T-Screen had revealed all-too-dramatically a fighter ship or alien weapon that might not actually exist. After seeing their ships, however, awesome weapons don’t seem as far-fetched anymore. One of the old programs is about a mission beyond ours. Those guys are friends with some cool aliens.

I know it’s only an entertainment program, but I still can’t believe that such fantasy was developed on Earth. It seems so real on the T-Screen. My dad told me it was ‘state-of-the-art special effects’. The alien craft, that have escorted us this far, are real.

Marshall Graves has ordered us to stay in shape and prepared for battle. He believes that the MM may be headed into some kind of trap. He is a great instructor, but his mind seems to thrive on the concept of battle.

No room for positivistic thinking, or blind hope. Only chance and probability dwell within his head. Some of us think his own training has corrupted his mind, permitting him only to consider military options and tactics.

He was a first generation OB. Which means, he is one of the first people to be born on the ship. His life took place during the time of consolidation. In short, he’s one of the guys that had paved the way for our modernized training.

He had witnessed the union, and helped it along the way. You see, we used to have multiple branches of military. Graves had overseen the consolidation of all previous military branches into the MM. His rank was earned by his own ingenuity and skill.

Granted, he’s the kind of soldier you would want in your corner. Hard. Violent. Merciless. But, is all of that really necessary? I can’t think of a single scenario, that has taken place during my life, wherein such aggression would be ‘practical’. The Justice handles all civil disputes.

I wonder if his mentality was the key to the destruction of the UFF Vida-Wong. Was that ship destroyed by such a determined military mind? Or, just someone not made for life on one of these ships? No one really knows who started the core meltdown.

I was born, raised, and educated on this ship. The Vida-Burgess. My entire life has taken place here. I’ve heard the stories. I’ve dreamt of walking on ‘soil’. I can imagine what fragrances might be detectable. I’ve been to the hortibay a few times.

We may be landing on such a world, soon. A real planet. I might get to set foot on actual soil for the first time. I’m truly looking forward to it.

Some of the older people have commented on feeling homesick. They say it is when you become so accustomed to living in one place that you hate to leave it for any extended amount of time. Only a few of us have stepped outside of this ship.

Most--primarily researchers--only to explore an asteroid, or small moon. Maintenance workers occasionally walk on the hull with their APG’s. Until now, none have set foot on a real planet. At least, not one they would soon call home.

I was assigned to a security detail for such a study, once. It’s a standard part of APG (Atmospheric Protective Gear) training. We all have to do it at some point. It gives us a sense of what combat is like in a spacesuit. My granddad said it was drawn from what he called ‘astronauts’ from Earth.

He said that the suit protects them from the vacuum, and intense cold, of space. According to him, many advancements had been made since Project Vida began. Our APG’s are designed to house all of our required items, such as nutrients, hydration and other essential functions. Not to mention the comfort and mobility.

He said that the old suits were bulky and cumbersome. I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I like my APG. Of course, I have to keep in mind that we haven’t always been this advanced. My T-Screen keeps that part of reality in perspective.

It’s getting close to chow time. I think I’ve said all I need to say for now. We’re off-duty for a day. I think negotiations are being made. We’ll either go to war, or finally have a peaceful new home. Either way, I’m glad to be involved.

End Daily Report

*****

Chapter 2, Chow

I left my desk and headed for the mess hall. I had missed the food from my parents’ domicile. That is, when I first enlisted. I’d grown somewhat accustomed to the MM food. It isn’t spaghetti and meatballs, or grilled chicken, but it did kind of grow on me.

MM grub was mostly proteins and nutrients for building muscle and stabilizing your central nervous system. They had said it would make you strong and focused. Marshall Graves not only grew up on this kind of food. He had helped perfect it, also. He symbolized what we had all been taught to be. The perfect soldier.

He was a first generation. I understood that he was the first to be born into the military. His father was an Army General on the original flight. Back then, I believe, all old forms of military were still onboard.

Over the years, they had consolidated. We were trained to do all of the tasks. We could fight on the ground, in the air, or in practically any environment.

Part of the standard MM training was flight and other vehicular operations. It was all covered in the tenth week of the one-year course. Weapons training. Heavy gun operations. You name it.

Trooper training. Survival. We did it all. Of course, none of us had actually been in a real fight. Simulation only. All, of which, had been conducted on the ship.

As I entered the mess hall, I noticed a few new bulletins. One, routine stuff, stated the status of the ship and crew. Another was about the health and activities for the civilians. The third was what had really caught my attention. It was a notice from Captain Diaz, announcing that clearance had been given.

Hey, Corporal, my friend shouted. Did you hear the news? We have clearance to land!

I heard, Molina, I replied.

Jonas R. Molina was one of my classmates. He was a T-3 weapons expert. His ability to set a trap, or deactivate a bomb, was unparalleled. Gately had offered him the same rank as mine, but Molina loved the field exercises too much for that.

As a gunner/bomber, he was perfectly content. Even if it meant less pay. He didn’t care. He said to me, No word yet on provocation, though. So far, sounds like we’ll be at peace. Sucks, huh?

I don’t know, I said. Depends on the quality of their weaponry, and their health stats.

He laughed. Listen to you, Carver. Been spending too much time with that old T-Screen. Got it in your head that they might be invincible alien warlords, armed with nuclear-beam guns or something.

I had jokingly commented, You never know. Right?

He said, We’ll know soon enough.

We loaded our plates and found a good spot to share some conversation. We talked about the hype behind the potential security mission, and the likelihood of a peaceful cohabitation with the aliens.

That was when he told me about the rumor he had heard. An on-going war, which was already taking place. Molina told me about some of the things he had heard while on NS (Nocturnal Surveillance) duty.

As part of our standard training exercises, we partake of randomly-selected shifts. My dad had referred to it as ‘night-shift guard duty’. It gave us a chance to hear things, which we wouldn’t normally hear. Such as, private conversations.

Molina said, I heard that the Captain had met with a representative from the planet. They had called it ‘Dominous’. I overheard them say that it’s ruled by a queen, too.

I asked, A queen rules a planet called Dominous, and we’re hoping to call it home?

He nodded and replied, That’s what I heard, Corporal. I asked, What else did you hear? He took a bite of mash and said, They are at war with another race.

So, I’m speculating that an alliance between us would strengthen their army?

It couldn’t hurt, he replied.

Have you heard anything about the probes? Not headed into another Fator, are we? Experiencing first-hand what it was like for the Vida-Elizabeth? I dreaded the thought, but knew it was possible. Fator. The diseased world. Home of the Mega-Dymovirus. I had almost dreaded his response as much.

No, he said between bites. They say this world has nothing like that. Especially, nothing as bad as Mega-Dymovirus. Relieved, I said, That’s good to know.

He continued, In fact, there’s not much bacteria, or harmful viruses, on this big world. That’s what’s so strange about it. Practically germ-free. One guy had said the atmosphere is probably cleaner than the air on this ship.

He’s a great friend, and usually a smart one. Still, I had to ask, Do you really believe that?

No. But, it is something to think about, he answered. That’s when I spotted the stranger for the first time. After studying the stranger for a bit, I said, It would be nice to think that. A clean world. To actually live to see it.

I still felt bad for our lost ships. For some reason, the thought of their peril had crossed my mind, even then. I still didn’t know why. I had secretly hoped that he had heard correctly.

I had hoped it was true. Not another missed chance, or lost cause. Like our two fellow vessels, that aren’t here today. He must have known what I was thinking when he asked, Are you still sad about the Vida-Wong and its crew?

I sighed. I looked at him and said, How could I not be? We’re all on the same mission. We’re all that’s left of the human race. Every death counts against us. A single ship, that’s a lot of lives lost.

I know, he said woefully. He finished the mash with some hesitation. It must have bothered him, too. It still bothers me. But, there was more to consider. This new world. I asked, What about this queen? Any details?

Not really, he replied before washing down the hearty grub. Just that the war has something to do with her dad.

A king?

No, he replied. They never referred to him as a king.

That’s what had made me wonder. Was it really our best hope? I was guessing that, if she was a queen--not because of her father, but some other way, maybe we were catching them in one of those Romeo and Juliet battles. Maybe, she had married the man whom her father had deemed ‘the enemy’.

I asked, While nearing this star system, did anyone know that a war was taking place? Do you think they had noticed it right away, but didn’t inform us?

He replied, You’re starting to sound like Marshall Graves. Relax, Corporal. We aren’t involved, yet. He stood and placed his tray into the receptacle. I said, That’s great, but it doesn’t answer my question.

Look, he said abruptly, All I have is hearsay--at best. But, if I had to guess about it, I’d say this war isn’t detectable by any of our equipment.

What makes you say that?

I heard a researcher discussing the likelihood of detection, he replied. The scanners on this ship can detect energy, heat, most known forms of life, and heavy concentrations of known materials, such as metals.

So, why no straight answer?

He had said that most of what he had analyzed was massive life readings. Practically no trace of anything that would indicate a war. No large fires, or weapons discharge--again known. Or any other indication of an all-out battle taking place.

Typical stuff. Circle-talk. I commented, Can’t confirm or deny, right?

He nodded. Ditto.

I then asked, What about Sasha? Has she said anything about it?

As always, he shook his head. Their conversations weren’t commonly something he openly shares. Not even with me. He said, I don’t like it when she brings her work home, Corporal. You know that.

So, you haven’t asked her?

That’s a negative, Corporal.

We had finished our meal and were heading back to his domicile. Unlike myself, Molina was married at the time. Married MM’s had the luxury of sharing a domicile with their spouse. When off-duty, anyway.

His wife, Sasha, was a rare find. Most of the Vida ships contained people from the part of the world where the ship had been built. For example, the ship built in China contained mostly Chinese people. Hence, Vida-Wong.

The Burgess was built in a joint effort by a few different countries. My grandfather was American, while my grandmother was British. Molina’s grandparents were from Florida, but his wife was the daughter of a Russian dignitary.

There weren’t a whole lot of Russians on the Vida-Burgess. Her grandparents were among a very small few. There were only twelve Russian descendants on the ship. Not many at all. I used to enjoy hearing her speak. She had wanted to keep the language alive, and teach it to their children. He was still struggling with it.

There were a few other families who weren’t ‘American’. My grandparents had made America sound like the place to be. Those other guys had told a completely different story.

They used to tell me about the American need to own and control everything. I had seen examples of that in what I’d learned from my grandparents. They told me about the power struggles, and shady business dealings from the past, also.

Ironic that I should see the truth in their words. My grandfather had always said, Those who fail to remember the past are doomed to repeat it. As a kid, I didn’t know what he had meant. I do now.

*****

Chapter 3, Sasha Molina

Sasha worked in the observatory. She had shared with us some excellent photos of the alien spacecraft. Sadly, she had no photos of the aliens themselves. ZI (zoom imaging) of the terrain had revealed little.

One thing I had seen was a photo that had been taken of the alien world. In that photo, I could see two moons and a bright sun behind the planet. The protective lens of the probes camera had given the photo a yellowish tint. It had looked like a peaceful and promising planet.

Sasha had told us that Command wouldn’t allow the observers to keep certain photos. Detailed land maps and domestic structures were intended to remain classified. In private, she had mentioned a structure. We had speculated that it was likely the queen’s castle.

It was a grand design, which had beaten everything in our ships archive. She had estimated the dimensions to be roughly two hundred feet high. It covered nearly a square mile of ground. The building itself was covered in odd markings and decorative trim.

She said, We were allowed to observe the moons. One is almost identical to the surface of Earth, as depicted in the archive. It’s only a fraction of the size, about three eighths. Less than half the size of Earth, yet, identical. Almost like model.

Well, we’re only a fraction of the human race, Molina speculated. Maybe it will work, huh?

We are not sure. Maybe, atmospheric conditions are not so similar, she replied.

That’s when I asked, What’s wrong with the conditions?

She looked at me and said, Seismic activity. Monsoons. Tidal waves. Land mass is under constant strain. Too much tectonic shifting, and no moon of its own to regulate tide. Gravity is slightly higher, too.

That was a lot of problems. I nodded and said, So, we would all be heavier, while walking on shaky ground? I can see how that would deter most prospective tenants.

Yes, she said. Heavier and weaker. Much adaptation required, not to mention solid foundation for terra-former.

I hadn’t even thought of the terra-former. I had completely forgotten. I shook-off the terra-former for a curious topic. I asked, What do you know about their social networks and organizations?

Similar to our own, but controlled by queen, she replied. I believe structure is castle, and most of resident life is in alliance.

I asked, With the queen? She shook her head and said something that had confused me. It was one of those things you just can’t prepare for, you know? She had said, Or, against. War is between royal group and rogue group. Like snake.

I admit that her words weren’t always exactly what they should have been. But, I was seriously confused that time. What had she meant by ‘like snake’? I asked her what she meant. Again, she said ‘like snake’.

Molina said something to her, in her own language. They seemed to be arguing. He soon shrugged and walked away. She seemed confident as our conversation resumed.

The other group is like snake. Serpentine creatures of high intellect. Many beasts dwell in the woods. Most seem harmless. Not the snake.

I said, I can see how an intelligent snake could be dangerous.

She said, These wage war against royals. Some sort of territory dispute. I don’t know.

I asked, Snake-like creatures? Territorial dispute? What kind of planet is this?

She stood still, serious. Stern-looking. Is only good planet for us, she said grimly. I heard them say no other world nearby is like this one. No worlds nearby to make good home for us.

That was hard to accept. But, these ships, I argued. We don’t have to stay here. Right? We can travel to other parts of the galaxy. We can find another world.

She shook her head in dismay. She said, No other world exists for us. They know. War is not welcome, but neither is any other option. Dominous is only planet for life. Human, or humanoid.

You’re saying there’s no place else? None!?

Ship good for travel and research. Is not a warship. Farther into galaxy lies war and marauders. This ship will not survive countless assaults. Nor will we. Humans can’t fly alien ships. Technology is too different. We would need a new ship for further travel. One we can operate.

I asked, Will the queen help us build such a craft?

No. She knows of Earth. She knows of man. Asylum is her offer for what few remain. No technology. No ships. No weapons. I agree with her.

What? You agree with her? Why?

She replied, Men just want to fight. To kill and take. You are descendant of Americans. You should have good perspective of this.

I understand, but-

She blurted, But what? Is true! No but!

I retorted, Not even to help us find a new home?

Dominous will be home, she said. Is only good home.

Will we have to join them in their war for it? Is that what she wants?

No war. She gives us asylum. She knows the harm we bring. Once we land, Mobile Marines won’t be needed. You will need new job. Maybe royal servant…or something, she said jokingly as she retrieved Molina.

I asked him, Do you believe this? They are having a war, but they don’t want us involved! What’s really happening here?

I don’t know, man. All I know is don’t argue with Sasha. You’ll lose.

I smiled and asked, Every time, right?

Every time, he confirmed.

*****

Chapter 4, Secrecy Within the Ranks

Molina told me that they had discussed the potential for peace. As part of our standard procedure, most things had been kept quiet. Sasha had no reason to have shared what she had. Her superiors would never guess that she had shared what little information, mainly not with us.

Only high-level officers were entrusted with such intel. It wasn’t meant to be tossed around, not even as part of private conversations. I was still confused by the concept of being granted asylum, but not being allowed to enter the battlefield. That had gone against all the MM had stood for, all we had existed for, and all we knew.

Molina said, I know what you’re thinking. I can almost hear your thoughts, Corporal. You want in this about as much as I do.

I asked, A queen rules a planet called Dominous--which is at war with some type of snake, and we’re not only hoping to call it home, but also being granted asylum. But, we’re not expected to fight?

That’s what I heard. Way to keep up, Corporal.

I can’t say I like the sound of all this. Do you really think that this world is our only hope of ever finding a home for the human race?

He shrugged and replied, They say it is. I’m still thinking about how awesome it would be to go to war with an alien race.

Typical Molina. He hadn’t set foot on a battlefield. He was itching to fight. Not only that, but he was ready to challenge an alien race. I admired his grit.

Our weapons were great, as far as we knew. The thing was, we had never gone up against anyone with any other weaponry. What if they were more advanced? Nobody seemed to ask that question. I mean, not back then.

He asked, Do you think it’s a trap?

It could be, I replied.

When we were talking earlier, did you notice that guy eating with Master Sergeant Gately?

What about him?

He wasn’t MM. I saw them exchange a package. It looked like a data pack from last year’s trials. Do you remember those?

Oh, yeah. I noticed that, too. You spend your entire life on the same boat with the same people, you quickly notice the face of a stranger. I’m not sure who that guy is.

He then asked, Do you think he is one of the aliens? Do you think they are already onboard, but we weren’t informed?

It was a valid question. One I saw coming. The fact was, that guy didn’t look alien. He was slender, partially bald, and slightly older than Gately. His attire was more like something for a social gathering, not a uniform. What were the odds of aliens looking exactly like us?

I replied, "Now you’re starting to sound like Marshall Graves."

That’s great. Make jokes. But, something’s up, he said.

Whatever it is, I think I’ve got more important things to consider.

He scoffed, Oh, yeah? Like what?

Like, why the secrecy? What’s really going on down there? That guy didn’t look like a snake. He looked completely human. Why haven’t we seen him before?

Molina retorted, He could be one of the humanoid aliens. Right?

Why would he be meeting discretely with Sarge? Especially, during chow?

He said, I wouldn’t call it ‘being discrete’. But, it was definitely suspicious enough to catch my eye.

Well, we’re not going to get the answers by sitting around here.

Molina asked, What do you have in mind, Corporal?

We’ll be landing tomorrow. That doesn’t give us much time to discover what’s really happening. How can we trust these aliens? I suggest we get to the bottom of this ASAP.

I’m with you, Corporal.

We left his domicile to find some clues into the matter. During planning and exercises, we had often spotted a courier delivering a report, or orders, to the Sarge. That was different. Whatever had traded hands wasn’t the usual paperwork. It certainly wasn’t the usual technique.

Molina said something about a stealth operation. I was surprised by this. I had often heard them speak of stealth missions. Our camo training had consisted of a few missions were stealth was key.

As the final hours counted down to the landing, I tried to focus on the possibilities. What type of mission would we be given upon arrival? They had made it quite clear that we were not to get involved in the ongoing war.

As best as I could focus, I still had nothing to imply the purpose of the switch. All I kept finding was confusion and concern. Why the switch? Why in the one place it would be easily noticed?

My only sound solution, the Sarge had wanted us to spot it. It was intentional. To confirm this, I went to see the Sarge. I was well within my respective authority. Molina had to sit that one out. I was sure that Sarge would brief me if something was in the works.

I signaled my presence and awaited his response. After a few moments, his door opened. I heard his voice, Enter, Corporal. I entered his office and requested to speak with him on the matter.

I see. You noticed that, and presumed I had meant for you to see it, he stated as he rubbed his chin. The look on his stone-solid face revealed a wavering concern. Perhaps I had made a mistake.

Suddenly, he broke the awkward silence by saying, Well, Corporal, it wasn’t meant for you. I had eyes on me from the security scanners the whole time. We still don’t know if we can trust these clowns.

The aliens?

Yes, he replied. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. He said, The front man for the contact didn’t seem professional enough to appease the Marshall’s questionable view of the encounter. We don’t know much about this world, but we know a liar when we see one.

A liar?

Something fishy is going on here, Corporal. It’s Mobile Marines’ duty to square it away.

I asked, What do you need me to do, Sarge?

Help me keep a lid on this until further proof can be obtained. The landing is scheduled for 1400 hours. The ‘Queen’ picked that time. Not us. The way we understand it, the ‘war’ stops for a few hours around that time. Everyday. Does that sound like any war you have ever studied, Corporal?

No, Sarge.

We’re having a hard time buying it ourselves, he said as he stood and began pacing around the office. A planetary conflict against indigenous life, Corporal. They call themselves the Pyt.

Pit?

P-Y-T. Reptilian creatures. You’ve studied Earth Reptiles, haven’t you, Corporal?

Yes, I have, Sarge.

The name is easy to remember--if you associate it with ‘pit-vipers’. The Pyt are giant, intelligent snakes. Imagine an eighty foot Cottonmouth, or a ninety foot Rattlesnake--keep in mind that this behemoth can think, and strategize, possibly better than you. That’s what we’ll be facing. Details are still sketchy, but they seem to be formidable.

The Pyt? Are we going to war with them, Sarge?

Not yet, but we might. Our hostess doesn’t want us getting involved. But, that’ll be hard to do when our own are at risk. Mobile Marines will be activated immediately upon the first sign of aggression. I promise you that.

He sat in his seat and sighed. He said, Until then, all we can do is keep quiet and collect as much intel as possible. We didn’t have this conversation, Corporal.

Understood, Sarge.

Keep this under wraps. Dismissed.

I left his office, still unaware of what was in store for us. It was still a lot to think about, though. I didn’t know if I should tell Molina or not. He’d find out during the briefing. I wasn’t sure what to do. He was my best friend, but I couldn’t go against my orders.

Molina met me in the connecting passage back to my barracks. I’m sure he could tell something was wrong. Still, I had held what I knew to myself. It was a lot to face, and he seemed too anxious. Keeping the