Beyond Hyperspace Book 1, P.J.Lawton [snow like ashes series TXT] 📗

The Voice of God

God was talking to him. It had to be God; only God would have such a warm comforting tone. Only God’s voice could be so rich, so melodious. Yes, it was God all right; it had to be. The first voice though, that wasn’t God. It was too cold, mechanical and emotionless. No, that hadn’t been God.

He’d been hearing the voices for almost two days now ever since he had awakened. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t even know who he was. All he knew was that he was injured--very seriously. When he’d first woke up he’d found himself half inside a smashed up machine out in the middle of some very inhospitable wilderness. He realized that he should know what this was all about but, hey, he just couldn’t remember.

What had awakened him was the first voice, the cold voice. He didn’t really understand all of it, just bits and pieces.

. . . ZYLON-1 this is control, do you read. . . ZYLON-1 we are barely reading your signs. . .ZYLON-1 if you read turn on your transponder. . . ZYLON-1 this is control, do you read. .

After awhile the voice stopped talking. He wasn’t sure how long, must have been hours later when God started talking to him. He managed somehow to pull his torn, battered body out of the machine. The super heated ground on which he was sitting almost brought a memory forward, but no it slipped away. He almost didn’t hear God’s voice at first. When he did he realized it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. It was like magical floating music on the air.

. . .ZYLON-1 this is Matrix Mission Control. . . ZYLON-1 we can barely read your signal please turn on you transponder.

. . .ZYLON-1 I know from your vitals that you’re badly injured but don’t give up, we are going to help you. . .

. . .ZYLON-1 we are moving out of range, hang in there Commander, I’ll contact you in six hours, this is Mission Control, Out. . .

Yes, that was the first time he’d heard from God. God was calling for someone or something called ZYLON-1. I suppose that could be me, he thought.

He hadn’t understood much of what was being said but he did know that the voice said it would talk to him again in six hours. He moved to the little shade offered by the broken machine and settled in for his wait. God was going to help him; the amazing voice had said so.

Several hours later a muffled sound inside his head brought him around.

. . .ZYLON-1 this is Matrix Mission Control, do you read. . . Look Commander, we are going to help you but you have to help us. . . ZYLON-1, if you can hear me push the red button on your wrist gauntlet. . . Commander Zakn, please push the red button. . .

Commander Zakn? Was that him? Why were they calling him that now, before he’d been ZYLON-1. He looked down at his wrist and found a wide metal gauntlet containing several buttons and switches. Well, he must be Commander Zakn. God had said the red button right? Barely able to move he slipped his hand over, pushed the switch and said “Okay God, now what?”

. . . that’s great ZYLON-1. It appears that you com link is not functioning but now I know that you can hear me. . . now listen up, here’s what I want you to do. . .

Now God was calling him ZYLON-1 again. I guess it doesn’t matter, he thought, as long as God keeps talking to me.

Several more times he attempted to answer God but it appeared that God couldn’t hear. At least he could still hear that smooth wonderful voice. Later the voice told him to push the green button to activate his transponder. He had no idea what a transponder was but he pushed the button anyway. He didn’t know why he did as he was asked, but somehow he knew God wouldn’t steer him wrong.

After the transponder incident, twice more God’s voice left and then returned. Twice during the silence he had been about to let go, let the darkness take him. Each time the beautiful words brought him back. However, he’d been here for an awfully long time now and felt, no knew, he was getting weaker and weaker. Somehow, he had to hold on. The miraculous voice had told him that the transponder would give them his location and they would be coming for him.

So weak he could barely keep his eyes open, he’d missed most of the last message from the voice. It was something about only a few more hours. He didn’t know how long ago that had been, could have been minutes, it could have been hours.

He sat for awhile in the burning heat. After some time, he wasn’t sure exactly how long, a few jumbled recollections started to return and he began to remember a little.

Yes, it had been only a few days ago that he and his attack crews had taken on the locals. His crew and ship stuck without warning. The locals didn’t have much of a chance although, they had fought well.

Suddenly, his thoughts became even clearer. His pain filled mind began to remember. He was a Torag strike leader and he and his ship had accounted for destroying three enemy craft. The other nine attack ships accounted for the other seven local craft destroyed. He now remembered that all of that had taken place what, now almost eight days ago.

Everything had gone exceptionally well. His attack force completed their secondary attack mission with practically no resistance. Most of the enemy’s major defense systems were completely destroyed. The Command Medical Force then induced the virus. Since the locals had no anti-toxin, the plague spread like wildfire. The locals were dying by the score. Any that somehow remained or were immune would make excellent slave labor.

The Torag high command figured the strike teams would be able to mop up the secondary cities within a matter of days. Since all the Torag had been inoculated against the virus and were immune, they would be able to start colonization within a few weeks. It looked as though the plan was working perfectly.

Then, the unthinkable happened. The Torag battle cruiser Xonu and most of the support and attack craft were destroyed. How could this have happened? On returning from a scouting mission he found mostly space junk where the fleet had been.

He’d landed on the small support ship Honu and learned of the disaster. Somehow the locals had detonated a thermo-nuclear devise against the hull of the Xonu destroying it and fifteen ships in the near vicinity. Their knowledge of the Terran weapons systems hadn’t been as good as they thought.

The Battle Cruiser’s electronic shielding was configured for standard laser weapons and sonic blasters, not a small metal projectile. The defense crew members laughed that the locals would deploy such a crude weapon, right up till the end.

The Honu was far enough away to survive the blast but was severely damaged to include the FTL, Faster-Than-Light drive. There was no way they could make hyper-space, no way they could go home since the trip at sub-light would take decades.

Only the Sonu, a much smaller support ship that had been the greatest distance from the blast radius, remained fully capable but it was far too small to carry the fleet survivors.

He was tasked to find a suitable place for the remaining Torag crews to land on the surface and wait until the next battle fleet arrived. There were far too few left to begin any type of occupation. It would take the Sonu several weeks at H-2 to reach Torag prime and then the Command Fleet would take several weeks to return. His people would need to find food and shelter for what could be months.

So, a few days ago he’d embarked in this lone one-man ship scouting mission to search for possible safe landing zones and hopefully some suitable territory for the Torag survivors. He hadn’t seen the battle damaged local ship coming out of the clouds until it attacked his unarmed craft. He hadn’t had a chance….

Suddenly in a flash it was all gone again. Who was he and why was he here? Oh yes, God had told him to wait, rescue was coming.

Surprisingly, in the distance he could see something approaching that looked to be some sort of machine. Must be the messengers from God, it had to be, the voice had promised him that they were coming to save him. Forcing himself upward pushing his battered and broken body more than he thought was possible he moved to stand. Putting on his brightest smile, he raised his hand to welcome them. Suddenly darkness overwhelmed him. With hardly a sound he slowly toppled forward into the dust, a slight quiver, and he was still.

***
The two Terra Stryker-Force Marines stopped their armored land-speeder by the crashed enemy space ship.

The first stepped forward and looked down at the broken body lying in the dust.

“See, I told you it was a Torag scout ship. Look. He’s dead all right. Boy, the ‘Rags’, with the exception of their blue-tinted skin, don’t look a whole lot different that us, do they?”

The young soldier stared at broken blue body lying in the lightly swirling dust for a moment then said, “Well, Sarge what do we do now? Should we call Major Brodsky? Do you think the Torag was able to get a message off? The ship looks pretty burned out. Hopefully the radio equipment was destroyed.”

“Radio equipment? Hell, son they don’t use radio equipment. Look there behind his ear. That’s a communication implant. That’s how they talk to each other. The signal lets the message go directly into the brain. They don’t need any radios.

Come on lets go, there’s nothing more to do here. The Major said once we finished this patrol, then we were done. Terra Stryker Force is no more. Hell, for that matter, Terra is pretty much gone, at least for us Terrans that is. We’re on our own. The ‘Rags’ were beaten here this time but they will be back. When they come back it won’t be only one Battle Fleet, they bring their whole Space Command. The remaining folks here won’t have a chance.”

“But Sarge, what are we going to do? I don’t have any place to go. You know both my parents died several years ago.”

The old grizzled space veteran rubbed his chin and after a moment said, “I don’t know son, I never had any family so it’s not the same for me but the Major is pretty worried. His family is back in Zandro Perfect. I tell you what, we’ll get back to base, stow this equipment and head out. I guess the only thing to do is to hang out and survive the best we can. Maybe a Space Freighter will come along to see if anything is left of Terra. You can tag along with me