The Archeon Codex: Guardians of the Galactic Sentinel Book 2 Read online

  Guardians of the Galactic Sentinel: Book Two

  The Archeon Codex.

  by Phillip Nolte

  ([email protected])

  Cover image by A. Wirth ([email protected])

  Dedication.

  This book is dedicated to my father, Roy G. Nolte (1922-).

  The Archeon Codex Artifact is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2017 by Phillip Nolte

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to good friend and artist, A. Wirth for her superb artwork and Jill Randall, Lucinda Nolte, Chuck Mullen, Darrel Beebe and Sybil Beebe for their invaluable assistance with editing and proofreading.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue.

  Chapter 1. Payback.

  Chapter 2. Alien Aggression.

  Chapter 3. Reunions.

  Chapter 4. Old Friends.

  Chapter 5. Dangerous Visions.

  Chapter 6. Plan of Action.

  Chapter 7. Departures.

  Chapter 8. Keeling's Shuttle Services.

  Chapter 9. Mutinous Thoughts.

  Chapter 10. Belgrade Bound.

  Chapter 11. First Contact.

  Chapter 12. Rendezvous with Jakob.

  Chapter 13. Plant-animal Interactions.

  Chapter 14. Getting Acquainted.

  Chapter 15. Unconventional Target.

  Chapter 16. Evasive Action.

  Chapter 17. Dangerous Visions, Again.

  Chapter 18. Morning Coffee.

  Chapter 19. Unwarranted Attack.

  Chapter 20. Belgrade Woes.

  Chapter 21. Schoolyard Bullies.

  Chapter 22. Epiphany.

  Chapter 23. Clandestine Meeting.

  Chapter 24. Custodial Capture.

  Chapter 25. False Arrest.

  Chapter 26. Gathering of Allies.

  Chapter 27. Hacker Extraordinaire.

  Chapter 28. Death of a Custodian.

  Chapter 29. Alien Examination.

  Chapter 30. Evidence.

  Chapter 31. Manifest Cargo.

  Chapter 32. New Partners.

  Chapter 33. On the Lam.

  Chapter 34. Angle of Attack.

  Chapter 35. Change of Plan.

  Chapter 36. Botany Lessons.

  Chapter 37. A Short Stroll.

  Chapter 38. Back to Ol' Sol.

  Chapter 39. Regrouping.

  Chapter 40. Revelations.

  Chapter 41. Activation Two.

  Chapter 42. History Lesson.

  Chapter 43. Prickly Questions.

  Chapter 44. Executive Meeting.

  Chapter 45. Alien Autopsy.

  Chapter 46. Destination Sol Three.

  Chapter 47. Keeling's Orbital Station.

  Chapter 48. Custodian 101.

  Chapter 49. Earthward Bound.

  Chapter 50. Custodial Reboot.

  Chapter 51. Teddy's Island.

  Chapter 52. Live Capture.

  Chapter 53. Calm Before the Storm.

  Chapter 54. Mission DC.

  Chapter 55. Agronomy Lessons.

  Chapter 56. The Institute.

  Chapter 57. Little Gray Box.

  Chapter 58. Back Topside.

  Chapter 59. On the Defensive.

  Chapter 60. Medic.

  Chapter 61. Return to Orbit.

  Chapter 62. Scientists vs the Box.

  Chapter 63. Plant Doctor.

  Chapter 64. More Revelations.

  Chapter 65. Survivor.

  Chapter 66. Summit Meeting.

  Chapter 67. An Introduction.

  Chapter 68. A Simple Demonstration.

  Chapter 69. Future Plans.

  Epilogue.

  Other books by this author.

  About the author.

  The Archeon Codex

  Guardians of the Galactic Sentinel Book 2.

  {...The ancient chamber stands buried and undiscovered as it has for thousands of years, the race that created it disappearing soon after the facility was established. The fate of the creators remains unknown. In spite of the age of the small chamber, its contents are still in pristine condition. This is partially due to the exotic materials the contents are made of, and partially due to the location of the chamber -- an undistinguished planet in a star system off in a remote corner of the Milky Way Galaxy. Though the chamber seems to be lifeless, machineries within are lying dormant, merely awaiting the proper stimuli required to activate them...}

  Prologue

  Grand Amalgamation of Galactic Civilizations Supreme Council Chambers,

  First Quadrant of the Milky Way Galaxy, September 14, 2676.

  Almost directly across The Milky Way Galaxy from the conglomeration of obscure planetary systems colonized by a newly emerging race of intelligent beings called "Humans," the Supreme Council of the Grand Amalgamation of Galactic Civilizations was convened for their periodic meeting, occurring once every thirty solar days. The Supreme Council consisted of five Councilors, one from each of the founding races of the Grand Amalgamation. The meeting was being presided over by Chief Councilor Naift, who was an Avean and was currently at his customary station on one side of the council chambers behind a massive desk. Arrayed in a semicircle around the oval room and facing him from their own smaller but still very impressive stations were the other four members of the Supreme Council: Helspar of the Hylidians, Neasterum of the Sauropsids, Joroaster of the Lycans and Her supreme Honor sub-queen Sithia of the enigmatic Thenarim aquaticus race.

  With the normal and routine business of running the Amalgamation completed, the Chief Councilor moved on to the ultimate item on the docket. "As usual, the last article on our agenda is the consideration of new species for membership in our organization. Helspar? Would you present your report on the Hordea, please?"

  The little Hylidian, member of a race that could have evolved from the amphibians of Old Earth, or vice versa, arose to make his report, the iridescent crest running down his spine erect, telegraphing the tension he was feeling. Helspar was a perfectly competent speaker but, like most members of his species, did not relish the activity.

  "The Hordea," he began, "whom all of you know by now are a curious species of intelligent plants, will soon be brought into contact with their closest galactic neighbors, the Humans. Unfortunately, a number of Hordean spacecraft have gone missing recently. Since they have only a small fleet of ships, the loss of even one is significant."

  "Do we have any idea why this is happening?" asked sub-queen Sithia over the comlink in her aquarium.

  "They and the Humans occupy the most remote systems in the fourth quadrant of Amalgamation space," replied Helspar. "Because there are only a few member species in the area, we have only one Sentinel Guardian currently in that portion of the quadrant. The Guardian is a Lycan, Symantia L'Proxa, and she is tasked with facilitating the first interaction between the two species along with a number of other important tasks. Joroaster and I have both directed her superiors to inform her she is to investigate the problem. She will be aided, somewhat, by inexperienced Amalgamation Representative and Sentinel Guardians initiates just recently selected by both species. I fear, however, the Custodians are somehow involved."

  "Do you have any proof?" asked Neasterum, his forked Sauropsid tongue flicking in challenge.

  "No," replied Helspar, "we do not. But the pattern has become all too familiar of late. The Cu
stodians infiltrate an influential faction or two of a candidate race and use these clawholds in an attempt to disrupt the Citizenship process. We are seeking confirmation of possible illegal activities at the present time. Unfortunately, Guardian L'Proxa has a huge volume of space to monitor and is currently attempting to comprehend the internal politics of the Humans, which is proving to be a difficult assignment."

  The Hylidian stopped here and looked around the chamber. "I have nothing more at the present time. Joroaster has responsibility for the Humans, perhaps he has something to add. With your permission, Chief Councilor, I would yield the floor to him."

  "Yes, you may step down, Helspar," said Naift. The little Hylidian gratefully surrendered the podium. "Joroaster? Are you prepared to update us on the progress of these Humans?"

  "I am, Your Honor," said the Lycan.

  "You have the floor," said Naift.

  The distinguished-looking Lycan, his copper gold eyes sharp and his sleek orange-brown fur lustrous, in contrast to the noticeable graying around his muzzle, took the podium. He was a far more accomplished speaker than Helspar and this confidence was evident in his relaxed and self-assured manner.

  "I must report that the Citizenship process in Human space is still in the preliminary stages. The Human Galactic Representatives and their Guardians will shortly be on their way to interact with the largest central government of Human-occupied space, an organization calling itself 'The United Federation of Planets.' Guardian L'Proxa will be assisting the new Representatives and will do what she can to help them educate the leaders of this Federation, and the leaders of other significant Human governments about the citizenship process. Since these Humans have not yet encountered any race alien to themselves, her presence alone should, if nothing else, demand their attention. I remain hopeful of her success but must admit I have some reservations about these Humans."

  "What makes you say that?" asked Naift.

  "The race has some notably favorable characteristics. They are extremely creative and have invented some devices, particularly weapons, which are a match for almost anything in the Amalgamation. They can also demonstrate a great deal of compassion for less fortunate members of their race. Unfortunately, they are also an extremely fractious people and can be very aggressive, even against members of their own species -- especially if there are political or religious differences. In fact, you could make a strong case it is these political and religious differences that have driven the development of such advanced weaponry."

  "They are still under the thrall of religion?" sneered Neasterum. "And you call them civilized?"

  "It is beyond our authority to dictate what member species are to believe, my distinguished colleague," replied Joroaster.

  "More's the pity," replied Neasturum.

  "Councilors, please!" said Naift, attempting to maintain order in the chamber. Confrontations between these two councilors were becoming more frequent of late. "If you have nothing more, Joroaster, you may step down."

  "There is one thing more," said Joroaster, "the Humans are about to discover there is another artifact in their future."

  "An Archeon gift?" asked Naift.

  "Yes," replied Joroaster, "and it is critical they find and activate it as soon as possible. Symantia L'Proxa will do what she can to help, but according to our rules, she can only do so much. The rest they will have to do themselves."

  "We wish them good fortune in this endeavor," said Naift. "Do you have anything to add?"

  "I have nothing more," said Joroaster.

  "Very well. I will expect another progress report from both you and Helspar at our next meeting. Councilors, we are adjourned."'

  Chapter 1. Payback.

  Central Planets, Nova Philadelphia, September 29, 2676.

  Madam Miriam Love, recently elevated to the unofficial and unlikely position of "psychic medium to the rich and powerful," was concerned. She had achieved her new-found status by virtue of a series of visions she'd been experiencing. Visions suggesting that all of Mankind was at a crossroads and actions taken or not taken within the near term could lead to either a dire future or one that expanded Humanity's horizons beyond belief.

  The first visions had come to her just over six months ago and, shortly after they began, she discovered somewhere around three percent of the Human race was experiencing the same or very similar dreams. Miriam had been one of the most sensitive of those affected, and the fact that one of her clients, Harriet Dawson, was the wife of Everett Dawson, a senator from Nova York, catapulted her, very reluctantly, into the spotlight.

  Prior to the occurrence of the visions, Madame Love had been content as a small-scale medium, eking out a modest living by employing the time-honored tools of her trade: tarot cards, palm readings, dream interpretations, numerology and the like. She took a great deal of comfort knowing she was helping people find a measure of peace in their lives. The sudden celebrity forced upon her was intoxicating at first, but deep down, Miriam Love was a person of high integrity and modest ambition. She had no desire to be in the public eye, especially if she really had nothing to contribute. She was adamant she would never deceive anyone for her own gain and deathly afraid of being labeled a fraud.

  Until tonight she hadn't had one of the powerful visions for several weeks, but could take some comfort from the fact no one else was having them either. However, the lack of them, when they had been occurring on an almost daily basis, was more than a little disturbing. Miriam had no illusions about her psychic abilities. She didn't feel the visions came to her because she possessed some kind of superior skill but rather that she had been somehow chosen as a conduit to channel these visions to the rest of humanity.

  While the earlier visions had featured the image of a regular tetrahedron, the focus of this most recent one was of a flat, rectangular box. The vision of the box was followed by the now familiar images portraying two futures for Mankind, one being idyllic and harmonious, and the other depicting lives of misery and slavery.

  The vision occurred several hours earlier, in the middle of the night. Miriam had awakened in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright in her bed. Mercifully, the terror elicited by the vivid images faded rapidly as she came fully awake. The emotions she was experiencing were mixed. One was the bittersweet relief she'd finally had another vision, and the other was dread of what the same vision had depicted. No doubt Harriet Dawson, another of the sensitives, would be calling first thing in the morning, if not sooner.

  She felt a cold fear in the pit of her stomach as she realized she would soon be riding the heady and daunting whirlwind of public appearances and consultations with important people again. Just because she had the visions didn't mean she had the slightest idea what they signified. She didn't sleep at all for the rest of the night, fretting over how she was going to react.

  Just be yourself, Miriam, she told herself, it's been working so far...

  Four hours later, Nova York City, Secretary of the Navy (SECNAV) Offices.

  Senator Everett Dawson had been waiting in the lobby of the United Federation of Planets SECNAV office for just under two hours. He was justifiably miffed, considering he'd had a confirmed appointment, but also realized, given the animosity between himself and the current SECNAV, former Admiral William F. (Bill) Tingey (ret.), this kind of treatment was to be expected. A year ago, Dawson had been a vocal opponent of an extravagant request by SECNAV to fund the construction of several large new warships of an unproven design. Dawson was all in favor of having a strong navy, but the costs associated with the proposal appeared to be so grossly inflated and the possibility for cronyism so blatant he'd led the opposition. The bill failed, and Dawson was pretty sure he'd made a powerful enemy. He knew in his gut he'd done the right thing, but now faced the daunting and humiliating task of asking Secretary Tingey for a favor.

  A young man in an immaculate naval uniform strode up to the senator's chair and stopped. "Senator Dawson? The Secretary will see you now."

  Dawson re
sisted the urge to say, "It's about time," knowing it would do absolutely nothing to help his cause. The aide led him out of the lobby and down a short corridor to a large double door made of genuine wood. There, he opened one of the doors and ushered the senator into a large and opulent office. Behind an impressive desk, SECNAV Tingey pretended to be busy perusing and signing off on some electronic forms and did not look up when the senator entered. The desk was flanked by two flags: the United Federation of Planets on one side and the Federation Navy on the other.

  Having not been invited to sit down, Dawson politely waited for at least two minutes before Tingey looked up and acknowledged his presence.

  "Ah, Everett. You wanted to see me?"

  "I do Bill, and it is a matter of some importance."

  "Please, have a seat."

  Dawson sat down in one of the obviously expensive padded chairs across from Tingey's desk. As soon as he sat down he realized the secretary's own chair must be up on some kind of raised platform because Tingey, not a very large man, seemed to tower over him. Dawson wasn't affected by the ploy because he knew and employed similar tactics himself.

  "So, what is it that you want, Everett?"

  "It's about that MacPherson archeological expedition we backed about a month ago."

  "Yes?"

  "Well, we haven't heard anything back from them and I'm beginning to worry."

  "I let you know in no uncertain terms I thought that whole mess was a wild goose chase in the first place."

  "I'm well aware of that, Bill, but you should know that a Soviet courier left almost immediately behind them, headed to the same hyperzone."

  "You think they followed your expedition?"

  "I honestly don't know. I think so."

  "Where do I come in?"

  "We have evidence they were headed for the Sol system. I think we should send a ship there to see if we can find out what happened to them. They were searching for an artifact that seems to be tied to the disturbing visions people have been having."