W A R

When peace isn’t possible, you get . . . .

WAR

By

Charles E Posey

DEDICATION

To all of those who have helped me to be more me, believing in all things possible, to trust in the Lord, and press towards a higher mark, I dedicate this book. You know who you are and I say thank you.

ISBN: 9781520102061

©Copyright 2016 Charles E. Posey – Version 3.0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

Printed in the U.S.A.

Table of Contents

Chapter One: We’ve Found It!

Chapter Two: Lord Nam Ron Utane

Chapter Three: Model KR-8-Alpha 9-R-875

Chapter Four: Lord Lazar

Chapter Five: E-La-U

Chapter Six: Haru and Janko

Chapter Seven: Don’t Bother Getting Up

Chapter Eight: Where’s Janko?!

Chapter Nine: Swan

Chapter Ten: Drogan

Chapter Eleven: A’liah

Chapter Twelve: Ga’la

Chapter Thirteen: The Island

Chapter Fourteen: An Ethical Choice

Chapter Fifteen: That’s Not the Girl

Chapter Sixteen: There Is Treachery Afoot

Chapter Seventeen: Stav’Ven

Chapter Eighteen: Slo’Got Prison

Chapter Nineteen: Critical Systems Affected

Chapter Twenty: I Thought You Disabled Everything

Chapter Twenty-One: Why Are You Disturbing Me!

Chapter Twenty-Two: Impossible!

Chapter Twenty-Three: Go Ahead, Make It Work

Chapter Twenty-Four: What Has Gotten Into You?

Chapter Twenty-Five: It’s A Hound!

Chapter Twenty-Six: To all other systems, planets, and worlds

Chapter One: We’ve Found It!

I sit here pondering how to begin. Shall I begin with my most recent complications, alarming as they may be, or shall I begin at the beginning? I am fifteen hours out of space dock with approximately twenty-two hours to go until I am safe—at least for now. I sit alone with only my thoughts and this data entry pod to record what could be my last declaration; a dying testament of things past and present. Anxiety compels me to speak, but my sense of security lulls all urgency out of my mind. Nevertheless, I will speak.

My mind wanders down the corridors of this shuttle beyond the pricey cabins for the mundane activities playing out aboard. I was just one of four hundred and eighty passengers bound for Locus 8 and no one gave me a second thought as I boarded. My cleverly generated passport and security clearance easily pass scrutiny and I was able to purchase a ticket. The crew must be oblivious to my presence. The passengers are unaware of the dangers I pose them. I wonder if that woman who had me hold her child while having her identichex scanned would have done so if she had known just how close she sits to death. I wonder what they all would do if they grasped how close to death they all really are? Would they throw me out an airlock, jettison me in an emergency escape pod, or try to return me to the planet we just left? Or, would they kill me themselves? I guess ignorance is truly blissful.

Outside my cabin, I can see the lights are beginning to lower as we prepare to enter a sleep cycle before arriving at our destination. In an hour or so, an attendant will slowly walk down the corridor placing all the cabins in sleep mode and I will be forced to hold my thoughts. But until then, I will tell my story. So, how shall I begin my saga, my story, which only a few might read, but no one will believe? I recognize only the dead truly know the truth. So, I will begin with all I know to be true and that is the beginning of this story. I am Ciero Tul, scientist, explorer, and to many, a mass murderer of now three planets. This is my story of the automated unit named WAR.

It all began on LeNor date 1010.512.3, in the Eris Galaxy, on a planet thought forgotten in time, and in a city laid in ruins. Silence saturated the empty street and nothing moved except that blowing in the wind. There are few landscapes more barren and desolate than this city, at least none I can recall. Yes, it is a bleak picture of all I remember of the city which would control my life for the next hundred and six years. When I visited the city as a young scientist, I found it surprisingly uninhabited. After six thousand years, even the animals had abandoned this place. No birds. No crawling creatures. No nothing. It was a museum piece frozen in time. Yet on this date, there was life stirring in it.

This was once the capital city of my people on Welsagon. A unique and interesting word, Welsagon. It is the name of the planet as well as the people. It represented a mindset of one. We don’t say we are from Welsagon, but we are Welsagon. Even now, as we have journeyed to the far reaches of several galaxies, we still are Welsagon. This city wasn’t a representation of our present as much as it was our past. What ‘was’ was behind us and what ‘could be’ was our future.

Among the decayed and deteriorated buildings came a scientific party of fifteen. They came wearing protective gear from head to foot. What I found surprising was the identity of this group. They were middle school children between the ages of 12 and 16 on a field trip of exploration and discovery. They were led by two professors, Wells and Pit-Nu, naïve to say the least concerning what was concealed in that city.

They came in search of technological artifacts, which could be dissected, dismantled, and examined. For this purpose, they brought with them various scanning and recording devices hanging from their waists and tucked neatly under their small backpacks. Each device was attuned to different mineral and metal contents, and would sound or display various colored lights when something out of the ordinary was located. By all written accounts, they acted quite professional with an expertise an adult might exhibit. However, if one read the journals as closely as I did, more signs of their youth, like the occasional rock throwing or kicking something more interesting down a street, would have been clearer than what had been recorded.

Methodically they covered the city, walking slowly through the deserted streets. All was going according to protocol until one student, a youthful architect, stopped to admire the design of an individual building. As the others continued on, he stood in appreciation of the Welsagon minimalist cubic design of this three-story building. With no windows and only a set of heavy ornate double doors, it seemed out of place among the later Chitnam-style buildings surrounding it. Curious, the youth pressed past the collapsed double doors and made his way into the building. There he found drawings, carvings and faded artwork of ancient technology and science lining the walls of a wide hall leading ever deeper into the heart of the building. It was just what the team was searching for, but couldn’t find. So moved was he, he didn’t immediately take note of the silent sensor that had suddenly turned red from the normal green. I imagine the view must have been awe-inspiring.

Dressed in his yellow and gray protective suit with its school crest above the heart, he moved deeper into the building. With his light pointed into the dark, he found a strange illumination emanating from the ceiling, a blinking red light. Puzzled, he moved about searching for the source and found that as he moved, it moved. It was then he realized it was his own reflection and the light source was his sensor. He raced from the building to tell the others.

Minutes later, the whole research party was with him with all eyes on the sensor as it blinked and suddenly turned a solid red. Their sensors weren’t as calibrated as his and so he was forced to duplicate his results by walking over the area several times. His professors wanted to be absolutely certain before excavating within the building.

Do it again. Dr. Pit-Nu ordered.

It always turns a steady red right here, the student responded.

I know. I know. All I want to do is to make sure. So, do it again. Please?

With a sigh of youthful frustration, the lad again retraced his steps for the group. Again, in the same spot came the same result.

That’s it. We’ll dig right here, Professor Wells said. Let’s break out the laser cutting tool and see what we can find below.

An hour later, the last member of the search party levitated down into the lower level. The group found themselves in a hall similar to that above, but lacking any artwork and carvings. With their lights only penetrating three to four meters into the dusty darkness, they had difficulty discerning the area. However, what they discovered were multiple entrances to what appeared to be laboratories. It was impossible to know for sure, because much of the non-supportive walls had collapsed leaving much of what they saw under rubble.

The decision was clear; split up into two groups to search opposite ends of the hall. Most of the students would follow Professor Wells with only a handful of older students seeking to follow Dr. Pit-Nu. By all personal accounts, Dr. Pit-Nu was a bit skittish and many of the younger children had trepidation concerning things lurking in the dark. Although they were explorers, they were still children at heart.

Coming to another intersecting corridor, Professor Wells’s attention was drawn to a room off to his right. It was open because of another collapsed wall. Among the debris were assorted pieces of technology scattered about the room like so much discarded junk. He decided to explore that room in hopes something useful might be located. Immediately upon entering, multiple sensors began to signal with beeps and blinking red lights.

Yes, we’ll do well in here, Professor Wells said with enthusiasm.

His students poured into the room and began pawing over machinery of a lost generation as well as inert weapons of mass destruction. Almost everything was covered in two to three inches of debris or a fine dust that obscured their view. Locating the main entrance, they discovered two battle androids of a special design no one could identify. Intact, they appeared to have suffered a total system crash after their batteries were depleted. Now, they lay sprawled on the floor with their main armament at the ready.

Toward the rear of the room, a student’s light caught the jutting corner of a large slate gray metallic box as it hid beneath layers of debris.

Professor? A student called.

Yes? What is it? Professor Wells replied with his attention elsewhere.

Look.

Looking up, he too noticed the box and its strange cubic configuration. Calculating its proportions by hand and sight, Professor Wells was stunned to find it was approximately nine feet tall as well as wide.

Staring at the box, Professor Wells directed, Someone run and get Dr. Pit-Nu. Right away! Be careful, but tell him to come immediately.

Reassembled, the group tackled the work of quickly uncovering the box. Some used cloth from coverings found in the room. Others simply used their gloves to clear away the mounds of dust, debris, ceiling material and wall supports.

Nine feet exactly, Dr. Put-Nu said eagerly upon measuring the front of the strange box.

Dr. Wells! Dr. Wells! Over here, another student called.

Moving quickly, Professor Wells discovered one side of the box cleared and there before him were three rows of faded block lettering written in black print. The first row was the largest and read, W.A.R. The second was smaller, yet in the same block lettering and it read, Welsagon Arms Research. The third contained a series of numbers and letters that were undecipherable, but gave the impression of being a model number.

Professor Wells! Dr. Pit-Nu called this time. Over here!

On the opposite side, several students cast their lights upon the words that were written there. There were seven lines, each in a different language, but all in bold red. Stumbling to get there, Professor Wells studied the writing for a moment.

This is written in an ancient dialect approximately ten to fifteen thousand years old, but I think I can interpret at least one of them. It reads—warning, danger, do not open. It repeats. I believe it is the same warning on each line, Professor Wells said cautiously.

Did we find it?

Yes, Dr. Pit-Nu. I think we found it. I can’t be sure until all the diagnostic testing is completed, but I think we found it.

Should I contact the school?

This is much bigger than the school. Notify the research vessel Bru-Tan as well as the academy. They’ll laugh, I’m sure of that, but that’s to be expected. Tell them anyway. Then notify the school, the children will need transportation back home, while you and I finish up here.

I can’t believe we’ve found it!

Go topside quickly. I don’t think your communicator will work this far underground with all of this metallic material lying about.

Yes, Professor Wells.

As Dr. Pit-Nu rushed off, Professor Wells stroked the enigmatic box with a loving tenderness and said, Yes. You do that, Dr. Pit-Nu. Tell the whole world we found it.

Within hours, this forgotten city became the focus of the planet and within two days, it was the conversation of the galaxy. Enthusiasm was balanced against anxiety with the discovery of the box.

On one hand, the scientific community was ecstatic. This was the find of the millennium. Scientific groups as far away as Terus Prime had dedicated years to the search. Many believed it was a myth. From the highest mountain to the bottom of our deepest oceans, they all came, examined and explored. Yet, the honor would fall on this team of middle school researchers out on a field trip. Of course, Professor Wells and Dr. Pit-Nu would eventually write a paper, which would be celebrated in universities everywhere. And, the students would each receive a university scholarship just for being part of its discovery. But, on the other hand, anxiety gripped the public.

You could see it on their faces; feel it in the air. Fear had found its place in the hearts of the people. It was palpable. I was a child of eight, but I remember the uneasiness, the apprehension, and the hushed conversations as adults traded their thoughts with each other. The mere mention of it would automatically set people on edge. Ignorance truly had been blissful. It was there all this time and most generations had ignored it.

It was my first trip away from home traveling with my grandfather on a planetary shuttle. We had traveled two days to arrive at a dusty and disused spaceport just outside this abandoned city. While I enjoyed being with my grandfather and on my own within the confines of the ship, I was beginning to feel uncomfortable with my surroundings. There were few children on the flight and they barely spoke to one another for the two-day journey.

Being raised within a communal society, I was used to being with other people. We lived on the 387th floor of a 500-floor building. Everything we needed was within walking distance. Meals were had with fifteen to twenty other families, children at one table and adults at the other. School was one floor up with work and shopping two to three floors down. Everyone socialized and nothing was truly personal. I could go to sleep in the arms of my mother and wake up in a bed with five other children. So, the experience of being left alone, to play by myself, was wonderful in the beginning.

On the transport, grandfather would replicate our meals and we would eat them in the living area of our room. Compared to modern conveniences and this cabin, it was cramped with only a small galley area and two beds. But to a child it was enormous. We would sit quietly at our table and eat our meals alone. There was a dining area aboard ship, but we didn’t use it, nor did I see anyone else on the flight use it. Everyone stayed quietly in their rooms.

On occasions when grandfather took a nap and there wasn’t anything new on the optical system, I would venture out into the multi-levels of the ship. I felt invisible because no one reacted to me. So, I would find a quiet corner and read or play a game of make-believe with imaginary friends from the building. I could do that for hours. However, eventually I would have to return to our room because the quiet was too much for me.

Arriving at the spaceport, we were herded to an open end of the field. Gathered there was a collection of every race and species in the galaxy. They numbered in the tens of thousands, yet they stood quietly in the hot noonday sun. Being a child, I couldn’t see much because the crowd pressed my grandfather and me on every side. I held his hand tightly, not afraid of anything, just unsure of why we were there. I thought at first we were there to see a grand parade, but there wasn’t any excitement, jubilation, or garlands, and the sense of foreboding continued to linger in the air.

As heads began to turn, I looked up and saw a tow vehicle with the slate gray box strapped down and being towed behind it. It levitated over the crowd and toward the end of the runway. It was then I tugged hard on my grandfather’s arm and he picked me up and placed me on his shoulders. I felt privileged to be able to see over the crowd, but I quickly came to understand my grandfather had ulterior motives for the move. I was just the right size to block out the sun from his bald head.

As I sat, I witnessed the tow vehicle slip the pallet aboard a waiting transport and then slowly move away. The crowd remained silent as the transport fired it engines, lifted off and then took a slow loop down the runway and up into the sky. For a long while, I didn’t realize what had happened. I just sat on my grandfather’s shoulders as the transport disappeared into space for a waiting galaxy class starship.

Moments passed before the crowd, without fanfare, began to disperse. Suddenly, I felt my grandfather’s heavy hands catch me and I felt cheated. We had come all that way simply to see a box loaded aboard a transport with several thousand others and that was all. As we began our slow walk back to the shuttle and across the dusty field for the return trip home, questions began to pour into my mind and quickly make their way out of my mouth.

Grandfather, I asked. Why were all these people here?

History, my child. History, he replied.

Oh. Well, what did it have to do with us?

Everything. It took life and it gave life. It caused havoc, but it brought peace. We needed to see this. You needed to see it, so you could tell your grandchildren about it.

Oh. Well, where are they taking it?

Hopefully to those who need it the most—those who have never known peace like we have. Hopefully, to another place whose people were just like us—desiring to live a life free from outside sources.

Oh. I said, just as puzzled as in the beginning of our conversation. Grandfather, I don't understand.

Securing my hand in his, he began to tell me a story of how that box was so important to our planet, our galaxy, and me. I listened intently as he spoke, his the only voice I heard in the sea of people.

Chapter Two: Lord Nam Ron Utane

The early history of Welsagon was written in confrontation, conflict, and science. Over centuries of economic and social development, the very nature of conflict and hostility was washed from our nature. History would show that it wasn’t easy. Like many societies, we had our difficulties as well as turbulent eras where antagonism got the better of us. It was at the end of one such period that the vast majority of our people engineered a coup away from the governing heads of state and created a homogeneous state known as Welsagon. Conformity and science were instrumental in eroding personal attitudes and aggression from our nature. Over time, political infighting was abolished, national boundaries were erased, and militaries were eliminated. Soon nothing of the former divisive and contentious peoples existed. Only Welsagon remained.

However, this led to greater problems as we ventured out into space. Without a standing military, we were vulnerable to attack from any of the other planetary systems, Gal’Ree, Holu, Montoo, Athos, and Terus Prime. Xenophobia ruled their lives as well as their intentions toward Welsagon. This forced Welsagon to seek out protectors among our neighbors. A great Welsagon political figure once said, The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

The state posing the greatest of threat to Welsagon was matched against their greatest enemy. Initially these were merely cooperative agreements with our protector in exchange for our technical and scientific knowledge. However, with each planetary system equally matched, our protector required more. These cooperative agreements moved into military arms development, which we never were able to retract.

First, five percent of our science budget was spent on the cooperative needs of our protectors. Then ten percent. Later twenty-five percent. Within time, our cooperative agreement had morphed into a military weapons development research division with fifty percent of the science budget going toward this cause.

The two main rivals for these agreements were Montoo and Gal’Ree. They were equally matched, equally hostile towards each other, and equally determined to crush the other. Prior to our exploration of space, they fought among themselves and left the smaller planets alone. However, with the introduction of Welsagon science to the equation, that balance was altered. Montoo was first to assume the role of protector, but they were eventually overcome by an alliance between Athos and Holu. The Gal’Ree were next when Athos turned against Holu over allegations of secret dealings with members of the Welsagon High Council. Then Montoo returned with a defeat of