The Ark Project Trilogy

The Ark Project Trilogy

By TJ Hudson

Second Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 TJ Hudson

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Table of Contents

Book 1: You Reap What You Sow

2492 AD - Contact

2501 AD - Event One

2519 AD - The Leviathan Rises

2531 AD - The Reapers Cometh

2847 AD - Welcome to the Project

2849 AD - Keep the Hope

Book 2: The Second Enlightenment

2857 AD - The Omega Manifests Itself

3060 AD - Mind Paintings

3061 AD - Katabasis

3083 AD - The Complexity of Creativity

Book 3: The Final Action

Summer Delights

Autumn Fall

Winter Temptation

Spring of the Saviour Maiden

About TJ Hudson

Other Books by TJ Hudson

Thank you Mom, Dad, Monique, Theresa and Nan

The Ark Project Book 1:

You Reap What You Sow

2492 AD - Contact

'There it is, look... And again! That energy spike was live!' the sensor operator said as he eagerly turned to face his superior. The commanding officer studied the readout, looking for any possible error in the operator's interpretation of the readings. The officer could feel the excitement building up inside him. His heart thudded in his chest as if it was about to burst. It felt as if his whole body wanted to explode with it. However he maintained his composure, he did not want to go down in history as the over excited officer who got it all wrong.

He straightened himself up and pulled down on his uniform jacket, straightening out non-existent creases, 'Right then, switch everything to record high-bandwidth and no invasive sensors.'

'Aye sir.'

The ensign knew the procedure but, as with his superior officer, he did not want to make a single mistake. As the ensign worked the controls, his hands did not feel like they were a part of him. They felt clunky and far too big. He watched them move with a strange sense of lag between his brain and the tips of his fingers. It was as if he was controlling robotic arms with some faulty virtual reality interface.

The ensign had performed these exact tasks thousands of times before in practice drills, but this time it was real. The reality of the moment was sinking in, it made him acutely aware of every move. Even though the ship's computer was doing most of the work, he still had to perform the top level commands. Though no one was watching him at the moment, he could feel the weight of future history analysing his every movement; this event would only happen once.

The superior officer left the ensign to perform his duties and made his way to the commander's desk.

He activated the ship wide intercom, 'This is Lieutenant Commander Benjamin Richards, engage Contact Protocol, repeat, engage Contact Protocol. This is not a drill.' He believed he could feel the atmosphere change aboard the relatively small craft. No doubt, he thought, some or even most of the crew would think this was a drill. Thinking to himself again, good, then they'll just go about their tasks as per routine. The less excitement, the less over-thinking, the less mistakes, the better.

The eighty strong crew aboard the small yet powerful scout ship Eir set about their tasks immediately. There was indeed a large minority aboard who thought this was yet another training drill. Ninety years of human interstellar exploration has resulted in nothing but false alarms and wild goose chases.

After a short time the sceptics aboard the ship reduced in number by the second. They saw none of the command crew wandering about in the background, observing, taking mental and physical notes. Neither were the NCO's; every single member was going about their set orders. No one looked like they would be giving a report to some superior officer later in the shift. Just a couple of minutes was all it took for the entire crew to be thinking: this is real, this is it. There was then just a couple more seconds for everyone to start double and triple checking everything. A sense of camaraderie and nervous expectation took hold aboard the ship. Those with simpler or less time consuming tasks went to help colleagues where possible. Everyone was keenly aware how perfectly the next few minutes, or even hours, had to go.

The Eir had been in a star system scanning a large asteroid belt for precious materials when it had detected another, more focused, sensor sweep. The ensign operating the relevant sensors had traced the signal back to its source and detected patterned bursts of very unnatural energy. After confirmation that they were definitely of intelligent (but most definitely not human) origin, the readings were in turn shown to his commander.

Contact Protocol had now been initiated throughout the ship. Externally the vessel had made itself to be as non-threatening as possible: weapon systems, shields and tactical sensors were all powered down. Internally however, the exact opposite was true. The ship was primed: localised batteries throughout the ship had been flooded with energy, ready to dump their charge into the weapons and shields in an instant. The superluminal engines had been spun up and were ready to jump the ship faster than light in the event of an unplanned escape. Only constant monitoring and management of the batteries and engines stopped the ship from being ripped apart; this was a state the ship could not sustain for long.

The last ready light glowed into existence on Richards' command desk.

He looked up at one of the view screens then turned to his pilots, 'Take us in, forty percent thrust, maintain readiness for an all stop.'

'Aye sir,' they too knew the procedure. At any other time they would have found his order mildly patronising, but now everyone was willingly keeping to the book for as long as possible.

Lt Commander Richards was trying to remember every facet of detail for the event of Alien Contact. But instead his head was spinning at the apprehension of his immediate future. He could not believe this was happening, on a tactical and logical level as well as emotional.

The Eir had been seconded to a combined multi-corporate mining fleet to act as one of many rapid scout and resource finding craft. The military, by law, had the fastest ships and an ever increasing proportion of them had been reassigned to civilian duties.

Richards analysed the situation further. Here he was, approaching the twilight of his career, on a ship a generation old with none of the latest equipment. Not only that, they were tens, if not hundreds of light years away from the fleets of exploration and science ships. In the other direction, they were only a couple of light years away from the established territory, where humanity had started to settle en masse. Yet here he was, sharing a star system with a possible alien intelligence, right on humanity’s doorstep. How did we not meet before this? He wondered, and then decided to satisfy himself with the simple answer that space was very big after all. He would let the experts pick apart the reasons at a later date.

Richards was jolted from his thoughts by an announcement from one of his crew members, 'We're picking them up on passive sensors. It's definitely a ship of some kind. I'm reading a hull, engines and occasional energy spikes. It looks like they're mining or analysing the asteroids.'

'Thank you Ensign. Have they detected us?'

'Not that I can tell, and if they have they're showing no interest.'

'We're well within detectable range. Halve our speed and orbit them in a perfect circle,' Richards ordered, intending to show that the Eir was no natural object floating in space; an artificial orbit should do that.

They waited an hour. The crew kept the Eir in its primed state, they knew that action would have to be taken soon: the batteries were starting to show signs of degradation. The human ship had been maintaining its perfect, slow, orbit around the alien craft. The alien vessel continued to move from asteroid to asteroid paying them no heed, even though the human ship's orbit was well within visual range.

Richards was getting nervous. The initial hormone induced rush of emotions had subsided a good while ago. This was now an analytical apprehension, and now he had to make a decision.

It had been feared that contact with aliens would be like this: an intelligence so different that it would not recognise another form trying to communicate with it. Except this situation was supposed to be handled by a special contact task force. Such a force would be a group of ships that could take it in turns to maintain close proximities and wait much longer than an hour: days, weeks, maybe even years, for contact to be initiated. There had been worry, debate and discussion in academic circles that humans could be too eager in their communication and may accidentally cause offence or, in a worst case scenario, start a war.

Instead, first alien contact was left to a single scout ship that was deep within, so called, explored territory. With the fate of humanity resting on his shoulders Richards made his decision, despite the apprehension, to make contact.

'Initiate Official Contact transmissions, low energy and only in the EM spectrum. Start with the prime number sequences then equation problems and solutions,' he ordered.

'Aye sir,' the communication officers showed no hesitation. Richards could see the tension release from the crew on the bridge as they were finally doing something.

An air of excitement filled the ship again, though it just as quickly faded. The alien craft showed absolutely no reaction to their transmissions.

Standing behind his command desk Richards looked through all the available information presented to him on the screens. The latest report from the small science contingent on his ship influenced his next decision. The scientists had been looking for any reaction from the aliens, including what humans would consider to be non-standard. This ranged from potential gases emitted to changes in the structure of the hull. There was nothing.

He gave the new order, 'Start using higher energy levels and give them the translation matrices too.'

'Aye sir.'

Again, there was nothing. Richards subconsciously brought up his left hand to cup and support his right elbow; his right hand raised up to stroke his chin. He breathed out heavily through his nose, it was loud enough for several of the crew to notice. He had not realised he had done this till he caught their glances. Though brief, he could see the pity in their expressions as they looked at him. As momentous occasions go in the history of things, this was proving to be a rather frustrating and sluggish experience.

It eventually reached crunch time. He was at a crossroads, though he did not want to decide which route to take. The Eir could now start trying to communicate with its more advanced, though increasingly invasive technologies. Maybe that was what was required, Richards pondered. All attempts up to now might not have been technologically advanced enough to warrant attention.

Or they could stay where they were and continue what they were doing, but with the ship de-powered from its primed state. The problem with this choice would mean there would be no shields or weapons ready. They could be vaporised in a second, which would leave no trace of humanity’s first contact plus the fact he and his crew would all die. He could have the shields activated, but he was convinced this could be seen as an act of aggression.

Finally, they could just cut their losses and leave. They would have to travel to the nearest communications range and hope for future contact. Instant communication over light-year distances was still a pipe dream. Travelling away felt like the sensible and safe option, though there was a part of his brain tempting him away from this route; what if we never see them again? Think how long we have been searching the stars. There are thousands of ships right now out there seeking aliens. Think how far inside explored territory we are, and look, a ship. We've been missing things, we can't afford to lose it.

Richards stared at a read out, he was not concentrating on its information; his mind was elsewhere. He took in a breath and held it.

Finally he released the inhaled air, 'Give them a Gravity Ripple, the gentlest we can possibly produce. Have the ripples follow a prime number pattern,' an artificial manipulation of space time can't be ignored, he thought. He tried reassuring himself with this thought as other parts of his brain reminded him just how far he was stretching the rules of Contact Protocol.

Though he was expecting at least one; there were no protestations from the crew. The ship obeyed the crew's commands and it emitted the gravity wave.

The alien craft reacted to their actions this time. It stopped its interactions with the asteroids and retracted part of its hull. Simultaneously another part protruded and then an energy beam emitted from the protrusion. It