Alutia Rising Read online

  Alutia Rising

  By Craig Gerttula

  Book One of the Alutia Rising Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are either the creation of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, business establishments, governments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2012 Craig Gerttula. All rights reserved.

  Cover Image - Asteroid Belt and Earth Images used with Permission of NASA/JPL under the Creative Common Attribution 3.0 License.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews, blogs, or academic works.

  Published by Sky Hoshi Publishing

  First Electronic Edition November 2012

  First Electronic Edition Revision 3 February 2013

  ISBN-10: 0988465507

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9884655-0-3

  Publisher Contact Information:

  www.skyhoshipublishing.com

  [email protected]

  I'd like to dedicate this book to my mother, Cindy, who believed in me when I stopped believing in myself. With all my love...Thank you.

  I'd also like to provide special thanks to my father, Russ, for all his support, both with this book and in life. Without you I would have never been able to complete this work. I'd also like to thank my knowledgeable brother, Jeff, and his wonderful fiancée, Sara, for allowing me to bounce off ideas, no matter how strange or outlandish. Finally, I'd like to thank Lise...and apologize for constantly annoying her at work...for all her help with grammar conundrums when they arose. Thank You.

  Prologue

  Emperor Yuloo Origin, the 298th hereditary ruler of the New Universal Empirical Human Alliance, hunched in his throne, the weight of the universe growing upon his shoulders. He let slip a sigh, before raising his weary eyes to gaze across the cavernous, dimly lit chamber called the Great Hall of Humanity, a place of awe for all those who may set foot therein. But for Yuloo, it was like a prison, being forced by tradition to sit atop a pedestal surrounded by 203 exquisitely, and uniquely, crafted steps, one for each galaxy currently under his dominion. It was a foolish thought, he knew, since the hall was his seat of power, providing a majestic example of his authority and the uniqueness found throughout his domain.

  His eyes turned to the 203 statues of kings, each 500 meters tall, lining the four Great Paths of the Emperor that led to his throne. They were works of wonder, reaching halfway to the ceiling and standing as giant guardians to watch over all who entered his presence. At the base of each, lining the gem infused pathways, stood members of the Emperor's Elite Guard, each adorned in the unique livery of the galaxy kings who towered above them. Every statue cradled a swirling galaxy in an outstretched hand, an actual reproduction of the one currently ruled by the statues likeness.

  With an empire the size of the NHA, the common moniker used for the New Universal Empirical Human Alliance, it was all but impossible for him to rule all his holdings directly. So it was decided, during the founding, that galactic hereditary kings would be appointed to each galaxy, and in turn, rule in his stead. It was, however, still impossible for all decisions to be made in this manner, so a system was created that allowed the Emperor to, in a sense, oversee all vital decisions.

  He glanced at the floating fluidic sphere that stood a few centimeters above his wrist, rippling and constantly shifting colors. The sphere represented the Proxian Reliability Oversight God Reaction and Analytical Mind, or Program, as his subjects referred to them. Artificially created, these beings were responsible for overseeing the ruling nobility and reporting their actions to the Emperor.

  "Approval of new trade regulations between galaxies 29 and 136..." A monotone voice, bereft of emotion, emanated from the sphere, stating that a major decision had just been approved in his name and informing him of the details.

  The Programs were, in fact, the shadow rulers of the galaxies, having final say over all galactic impacting decisions the kings may face. So they acted, or were suppose to act, as if they were an extension of the Emperor's mind, laying down judgment in line with his thoughts. He found this was generally true, but occasionally the Programs would make decisions based on tradition...ancient, archaic tradition. It happened very rarely, so he normally let them pass without direct intervention.

  The Program's themselves were enigmas, the science behind their creation and existence sealed for eternity. But Yuloo was very observant, having learned a few things about them over the 40 years he'd been seated on the throne.

  Each Program was unique, even though they sounded alike, responding differently to the same questions. When needed, a new Program would appear without any human intervention, being created through means unknown. But they seemed to be only able to exist within starships, structures, or other objects that included gorian alloy, a rare precious metal, except they were capable of possessing all matter attached to, or within a set distance of, their housing. Meaning a Program that was integrated on a planet could oversee everything happening on that planet...or so he guessed...the actual information sealed. He was more optimistic about their methods of communication, which were almost instantaneous, going against all known standard and black hole physics.

  "Counter incursions reported on all fronts of Anti-Sapien Unification containment line. Emperor's Wall Fleet reinforcements are being sent from Fleet Bases AZ111FV, 8YP20NM..." he sighed, noting that these forays of AH-Zec, the cranillium ruler of the Anti-Sapien Unification, or ASU, were becoming much more frequent. It was not of great concern, he knew, since the technology the NHA had captured during the last great battle, 400 years earlier, mixed with their enormous fleets, meant that they currently held an immense advantage. But the nobility had become restless. Many wondered, few openly, why he was allowing the ASU to continue to survive, not pursuing their extermination as was required by the NHA Founding Charter. It was simple, he thought, looking to his assembled guards standing at attention far below, knowing with one word he could order an invasion, sending them, and trillions of other humans, to their deaths in an attempt to destroy the ASU. It would be such a waste, and he saw little reason to pursue the issue as it now stood. He frowned, noticing Zing's rippling sphere, knowing there were other...more pressing matters that required his attention.

  "Planet Zuulica'Is was destroyed by Duke Telimen in galaxy 45 due to possible insurrection." Emperor Yuloo tensed as the monotone words sunk in, feeling his anger began to seethe to the surface.

  The Programs had one glaring flaw. They were unable to directly intervene in situations that had not been previously deemed within their responsibility. This meant the Programs were unable to stop a ruling noble from throwing away human lives based on indiscretion or delusions, which happened more often then he thought possible. The Emperor of course could, and would, act after the fact, removing the troublesome nobles, and possibly a king if he found justification.

  "Zing, send for my Knight High-Admirals." he ordered, knowing that it was unorthodox to provide a name for an individual Program. But it was his only companion for much of the day, besides his pet catillian and his daughter Yukie, allowing some semblance of civility in their constant communications.

  The issue of nobles abusing their positions had been common since the early days of the NHA. He once thought of abandoning the system altogether, but knew the nobilities existence was required, based on the NHA Founding Charter, but also because hereditary nobility, and the multiple overlapping layers of sovereignty, kept a certain stability in the universe. This helped pre
vent the bloody changes of power that were so prominent during the 25,000 years of war between the early human colonies, when many diverse types of governments constantly fought for domination. The problems arose later on, when the nobles decided that it would be easier to rule worlds by dividing the common class.

  The new common class included non-noble businessmen, scholars, engineers or the multitude of other professions that were deemed worthy. These citizens were provided the majority of the same rights as nobles, but were still limited from living on noble paradise worlds and were not provided a lifelong living stipend.

  The petty class, or the general labor class, consists of the bulk of the population of the NHA and are forced vassals of the ruling nobility. They perform the dirty jobs that are required for any thriving empire, all mining and factory work, neutron star and black hole cultivation...the jobs that required little skill, but are highly dangerous. These jobs could, and should, be performed by robotic proxies. But certain incidents pre-NHA had kept their use forbidden, another restricting article of the NHA Founding Charter, except in the hands of the Programs.

  Officially, the petty class was supposed to have all the same rights and privileges as the common class, but nobles had long forgotten that fact. Petty class citizens were treated like trash, forced to live on the worst worlds while being provided a meager living stipend by the ruling nobles. If they choose not to work, they were killed...most of the time, along with their families.

  He wanted to change this policy, to force the nobles to eliminate the petty system, but it would require him to stand against the traditionalists who made up more than 75 percent of the ruling nobility. Even the realists and royalists, who made up the majority of the rest, would likely not openly support him, fearing reprisals and loss of the all important trade income.

  "Request for creation of new duchy approved in galaxy 189." Emperor Yuloo was pulled clear of his thoughts as the Program's monotone voice delivered another verdict. Galaxy 189 contained the Wall, the front line of the war with the ASU, and he took extra interest in any changes that may factor into the conflict.

  "Provide additional details, Zing." The Emperor commanded, causing the irradiated particle display unit, or PDU, that was integrated into his throne to project a three-dimensional representation of the swirling galaxy in question. The 78 NHA Duchies in galaxy 189 were each highlighted a different color, allowing him to easily identify the area in question, while a large red striped filled oval flashed, representing current ASU space.

  "King Johan Vn'Oco has decided to award the new duchy to his third daughter for her 26th birthday. Officially, the gift is due to her lack of appropriate suitors. Unofficially, the gift is an attempt to stem an apparent increase in power of one of his Dukes, Duke Zehman Hulk'Zif." Emperor Yuloo studied the three-dimensional map floating in the air above his throne, staring intently at the new duchy Zing had highlighted. It made sense, the Emperor thought, the three duchies had yet to start colonizing the space being annexed and were larger than most of the other duchies in the galaxy. A small blue dot flashed, highlighting a star system on the edge of the newly created duchy, catching his eye.

  "If I'm not mistaken Zing, that is a special protectorate?" The name floated on the tip of his tongue.

  "Yes, the special protectorate of Earth." The response set off alarm bells in his mind...there was something important about Earth. He pondered for a moment, recalling its basic purpose, as an experiment. But there was something else...something his grandfather had told him before his death...the memory escaping his grasp.

  "Is there something important about Earth, besides its original purpose?" asked Emperor Yuloo.

  "Information sealed, unable to provide additional data." The Emperor sighed, wondering why his predecessors seemed to enjoy restricting important information. A sudden idea came to mind.

  "Zing, create a special Program with interference protocols and send it to Earth. Have it collect information and find its way into the hands of Johan's daughter." He thought for a few more seconds. "Also, have it locate a suitable candidate for the courtship, preferably someone uncorrupted, without any standing allegiances......maybe from Earth. Just make sure whoever it is will love and protect her. I sense I may have forgotten something very important in regards to this Earth..." A bit of melancholy found its way into the smile that formed on his lips as memories of his own loving wife appeared in his mind. Zing beeped in acknowledgement.

  He glanced down the 203 steps at the group of Knight High-Admirals responsible for his massive fleets, assembling around an enormous, jewel cut conference table that had risen from the floor. At his command, his throne began to hover and gently float down the stairs as he thought about Earth and the important knowledge he had forgotten.

  Chapter 1

  A body lay silent, hidden deep within the refuse that littered the floor of the abandoned warehouse. At first glance any observer would think the body dead, being dirty and pale, discarded to rot amongst the filth...or so Trent told himself as he moaned, trying to release his frozen limbs from their cold embrace. But they resisted, crying out against the sudden disturbance, content to stay where they lay. So he doubled his efforts, feeling for the reluctant muscles that he knew existed, forcing them to obey his will. Suddenly, one of his hands broke free, sliding forward, touching something sticky, with small lumps and a texture that was in no way pleasant. He pulled it clear and desperately started to inch away from the unknown foulness, trying to ignore the rancid scent that now filled the air around him. Once at a safe distance, he carefully climbed to his feet, stumbling into the same foulness he was trying so hard to avoid.

  "Ahhh...." Trent grunted as he moved clear with shaky steps, steadying himself once he was well away from the puddle of filth. He blinked, trying to disperse the fog of sleep that still encased him and free the tears of pain that blurred his vision...born of his pounding headache. But it didn't help, so he reached up, thinking to wipe them away, but froze, finding his hands covered in a layer of filth. He tried to clean them on his soiled pants, sighing at the pointlessness of the gesture, before giving up and glancing around his unfamiliar surroundings for the first time

  The interior of the warehouse was empty, except for the piles of rubbish left by previous squatters and decaying furniture lying in piles every few meters. The windows, long ago shattered, were boarded over, allowing slivers of sunlight to peek through the cracks, cutting through the dusty air and drawing hypnotic designs across the dull grey floor. The surrounding walls, that he could only guess were made of aluminum, split apart at the seams, creating gaps so large that someone could easily fit an arm through. Content that his previous evening of drunkenness hadn't led him to someplace dangerous, he slapped his cheeks to release the last whispers of sleep and started his search for his missing belongings.

  He stumbled around in the dim lighting, peaking behind piles of trash and kicking at the leftovers from the previous squatters...he hoped desperately that he hadn't lost it the night before. He blinked away a fresh set of tears, about to give up hope, when a solid object struck his foot. Looking down in surprise, he couldn't help but smile. Lying at his feet was his trusty companion, a long carbon rod with a bag attached to the end. Cliché, he knew, but when he decided to become a hobo, three days prior, he thought he might as well look the part.

  Finding no other reason to continue his stay in the temporary lodgings, Trent waved goodbye to no one in particular and located an exit, a slightly larger than normal gap in one of the walls, squeezing through into the bright morning sunlight.

  A refreshing breeze greeted him, slightly damp, smelling of fresh morning dew. It was familiar and caused painful memories to suddenly climb to the surface, still vivid, bringing forth further tears that he tried to suppress. But these tears he could not prevent, being born from his past...from how he came upon his current fate. The memory took hold as he fell to his knees, desperately trying to force it back...back into the darkness. But no matter how much h
e tried to resist, the force of the memories were just too strong.

  Life had always been cruel to Trent Marcello, being a young boy of abnormal kindness and honesty growing up in a small, but cruel, New England town. He'd been abused and exploited by those he thought friends, only surviving the horrific experiences by isolating himself, and his heart, from the world. It'd taken many years for him to realize the problem, that the kindness of his heart was being mistaken for weakness. So as time passed and he was again forced to join Earth's corrupt society, he turned to alcohol to replace his isolation, numbing his feelings, and his kindness, to survive those who would exploit or use him. But living a life in this world...this world of darkness...took its toll, the weight of being forced to act like someone he was not began to crush his spirit...threatening to destroy him. But again, he survived, beating away the storm, and the reliance on alcohol, to grasp a life of normality...or so he thought.

  It all started after he graduated from a corporate owned, third-rate New England university, finding few options for employment since less than a hundred mega-corporations existed in the world. They controlled everything, from the local supermarkets to the local police forces, making small business and local government a thing of the past. His professor's tried to teach him it was for the best, that world economies were now much more efficient then even a hundred years earlier, when the people still controlled the world governments. Trent had to agree that resources were now being utilized in the most efficient manner, allowing production costs to be lower than anytime in human history, making most products affordable to almost anyone. But corruption had become the norm, choice and regulation, nonexistent.

  Trent, like every other university graduate, was provided a choice, either work for theses mega-corporations, and the wage they deemed fit, or not work at all...and if you chose the latter, to resist, to try to work around the system, you would soon find yourself, and your family, on the street, begging for food...blackballed for life. So Trent hid his skepticism, and his kindness, grudgingly joining the ranks of Earth's corporate slavery, hoping that one day he could be the kind, honest man he always dreamed to be.