Preview of Book One

In the year 2216 mankind took its first stab at the inky blackness that separated our beloved Sol from the rest of the Galaxy.  Earth was overcrowded and our only option was to advance into the stars.  The initial thrust was poor and hardships were many, but with practice we became almost comfortable with space travel.  In time we eventually encountered other life forms.  Sentient beings that as of yet had not discovered the secret to intergalactic travel.  We, being the arrogant species that we are, determined which were advanced enough to join our elite association.  In effect, a mandate was set forth that simply stated that those who couldn't meet our criteria were not to be contacted or interfered with in any way until they were advanced enough to be accepted in.  Many civilizations thrived within the great sphere we claimed as our own, but not all of them knew we were there watching.  With man's constant need to expand, the edge of our sphere was continually being explored.  Frontier settlements were in abundance and they all fell under military jurisdiction.   This meant that most of the settlements were left to themselves.   The military was too busy with the advancing of our borders, one way or another.  To that purpose an elite group of people were set up.  This group was specialized in the sense that they were able to spend long periods of time out of contact with other people.  Cataloging and categorizing the wealth of possibilities these planets and star systems represented.  These people, considered scouts, were nicknamed Cowboys because of their similarities to the frontiersmen of the past.  Then we encountered a new race.  A race of sentient beings so different from our own that they could only be called alien.    

 

*             *            *

 

             Mason Hawks gazed out at the black expanse that crowded his viewscreen.  Sometimes it seemed as if it was alive.  Alive and trying to get in.  It had been weeks since he had last seen a human soul.  Perhaps, he thought, the loneliness was getting to him.  He turned away from the screen and activated his scout log recorder by the appropriate icon on the touch-screen monitor.

             "Survey Log 413. Oberon Quadrant.  Preliminary Survey of Outer Boundary. Operation Overseer Mason Hawks, Scout number 552.  The initial workup was accurate as far as long range scans go. One class M planet.  It’s on the outer rim so I'll probably sweep it first.  Looks like a probable mineral resource.  It should take me a week to do the deep scans required for a specific planet outline.  End Log."  As the echo of his words faded from the small confines of his scoutship, he realized he missed the sound of someone else’s voice.

             Hawks had been a Boundary Scout, the official title for a Cowboy, for almost ten years now. He had joined up after his marriage had gone thermal and his wife had left him. Had he caused the breakup?  Jenny had said he was distant and incapable of sharing deep emotions.  Hawks just thought those last few months they had been getting along.  Jenny seemed to think he had been ignoring her.  She wanted to share his thoughts and feelings about everything, but Hawks was incapable of translating his experiences into words.   His career was boring and apparently going nowhere.  Financial stability seemed to remain completely out of his reach.  So he went numb and lived day to day.  What did she expect?   Despite the fact that she had bailed on him, he still loved her.  It was that deep hurt that had destroyed his ability to feel comfortable interacting with other people.  That was why he had signed up for the Boundary Survey Team.  It sounded adventurous, but the reality was far from it.  A lot of flying around and collecting sensor scans and organizing tons of data before sending it all back to the closest space station.

              Maybe it was time for a change.  Time to reapply to the human race. Hawks sighed and reached for the digital clipboard that held the Overview of Oberon that was compiled from long range scans.  His eyes sifted through the data and settled on the nearest station.  Sadie was the closest station, but it was labeled as an Applied Sciences Base.  This was military talk for ‘do not disturb the mad scientists’. Great, he thought.  That meant he would have to get closer to the next nearest report station.  A full week out of his way.

             "Unknown Classification of Spaceship detected." came the automated announcement from the speaker mounted into the control console.  Hawks glanced back to the viewscreen.  It now held a map of his current position and the position of the 'unknown' ship.  That’s odd.  There shouldn't be anybody out here.  And according to the initial ping, it’s pretty big.   He accessed the appropriate sub listings on his touchscreen, and brought the deep scans online directing them at the ship.  At the same time he opened the standard hailing frequency and began transmitting the automated message asking for identification.

             This can't be right.   My scanners must be malfunctioning.  Great, I just had those calibrated.  I hope I didn't make this trip for nothing.

                 "Warning! Unknown Spacecraft has dispatched three vessels of similar design.  Probability of intercept course: 97%"

         "That’s not good.  I got a bad feeling about this."  Hawks quickly seated himself in the pilot seat and strapped himself in.  With a growing sense of apprehension, he switched off the computer pilot and grabbed the flight yoke.

             "This is Mason Hawks, Scout number 552 of United Earth to unidentified vessels, please state your business in this quadrant and identify your place of origin."  The silence stretched and the ships drew closer. "Unknown Ships please state your intentions."

             "Warning! Incoming, armed spacecraft. Warning!"

             With a jerk of the flight yoke, Hawks sent his scoutship into a barrel roll as beams of dark purple energy shot from the closest ship.  Hawks ship shuddered and the sound of impact rang through the tiny cockpit.  The controls suddenly seemed to be responding sluggishly.  More streaks of energy flashed by his viewscreen as Hawks pushed forward, fighting the torpid controls.

              "Warning! Sensors detect discharge of potentially dangerous energy.  Warning!"

             "Shut up! You’re not helping!" Hawks screamed through clenched teeth as he pulled back hard on the controls, reversing his direction and turning to run.  As he nosed the ship back to the neutral position he rammed the thrust control wide open.  His only hope was to outrun them.  Being a survey ship it was only lightly armed.  There was no way he could outfight three unknown combat ships. "Navigation, I need someplace to loose these guys!  Scan the immediate vicinity and give me options."

             Another blast rocked his tiny ship as he threw himself against the controls, once again fighting for his life.  The darkness outside suddenly lit up in a destructive light show of deadly intent.  Warning lights flashed all over his console as damage readouts scrolled off his screen. Dear God, Hawks thought, that’s a long list.

           “Okay! Okay!  Think Mason!  Why are they trying to kill you? Think!"  I saw something.  Something I wasn't supposed to see.  They don't want anyone to know they're here.  I gotta tell somebody.  Get word out somehow.  But how?  There’s no time.

             The ship began to squeal and lurch as another blast rocked against its hull.  Glancing back at the damage readout Hawks realized with a sinking feeling he wasn't going to make it.  As that thought flashed through his mind another quickly followed it.  He may not make it, but he would make sure somebody knew it!  Maybe, at least they would be able to avenge him.  Hawks reached over and pulled out his nuerohelm.  It was used to record data on planet surface surveys, and had the capability to record the last hour of the wearer’s memories.  Kind of a flight recorder for the human body.  It was designed after several of the Cowboys had died of mysterious causes.  The results were a flash photo of short term memories that could be downloaded and reviewed to determine what happened. 

              Hawks snugged the helmet on and activated the Memory Scan apparatus.  As the ship began to disintegrate around him he downloaded and transmitted the data to the nearest space station.   Space station Sadie.