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    Sticks and Stones: A Trek Novel
    Sticks and Stones: A Trek Novel
    Sticks and Stones: A Trek Novel
    Ebook314 pages4 hours

    Sticks and Stones: A Trek Novel

    By Robert Jeschonek

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    About this ebook

    Once upon a galaxy, a spaced-out writer launched a novel exploring a starry saga set in a universe much like a certain trek we know and love. Here, for the first time, you can experience this voyage into trekkerness. The names are new, but you might recognize the drama and excitement of an epic encounter aboard the star cruiser Exogenesis as it pioneers humanity's journey to greatness among the stars. In this adventure, first contact with the multilingual Vox species goes horribly wrong when the crew's linguist mistakenly uses a forbidden slur. Drawn into a violent revolution, a "war of words" to decide language dominance, the crew of the Exogenesis races against time to convince the aliens to unite against a greater threat:  an unstoppable invasion fleet roaring toward planet Vox from deep space. When revolution and invasion collide, it is up to Captain Joshua Swift and the Exogenesis crew to save the world by revealing the secret behind the slur that started it all…the dark secret linking Vox and invaders in an ancient cycle of slavery, suffering, lies, and death. Don't miss this exciting lost novel by award-winning Star Trek author Robert Jeschonek, a master of unique and unexpected science fiction that really packs a punch.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRobert Jeschonek
    Release dateNov 12, 2018
    ISBN9781465904133
    Sticks and Stones: A Trek Novel

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      Book preview

      Sticks and Stones - Robert Jeschonek

      CHAPTER ONE

      Captain Joshua Swift asked Commander J'Tull to repeat what she had just said.

      J'Tull complied, speaking in the same cool monotone that she had used the first time. "Each ship in the fleet is fifty times the size of the Exogenesis."

      Standing before his command chair on the Exogenesis bridge, Swift shook his head in amazement. Even displayed on the viewer against a backdrop of stars, with no frame of reference to allow a true gauge of their size, the ships looked massive and imposing.

      And there were a hundred of them.

      Weapons? said Swift, unable to tear his gaze from the screen.

      Plasma cannons, said Lieutenant Martin Simon, the ship's tactical officer. Phased energy emitters. Electromagnetic pulse generators. Matter/anti-matter missiles.

      That's a lot of firepower, said Swift. Let's stay on their good side.

      J'Tull looked up from the scope that extended from the console at her station. "Perhaps it would be best to avoid all their sides, she said. We have no record of vessels of this design or of the species that built them. We have no knowledge of their intentions. What we do know is that they exceed our ship in numbers, size, and firepower."

      Which is why we should be cautious, said Swift. But as you say, we have no record of these people. We can't ignore a first contact situation.

      Sometimes, J'Tull said flatly, the best first contact is no first contact.

      Swift sighed. He knew that his first officer was right, but he wasn't sure that he could pass up this opportunity. Attempting contact could be a dangerous choice, even a fatal one…or the first step in a new and rewarding relationship with an alien species.

      So far, in spite of their heavy armaments, the alien ships had revealed no hostile intentions. After coming upon them on the way to survey a nebula, Exogenesis had followed them for over an hour without getting a reaction. With the comparatively tiny star cruiser trailing behind it, the fleet had just kept plowing forward at a speed of Grav 2, also known as G2 (as measured on Astrofleet's gravity drive scale) seemingly focused entirely on its own mysterious purpose.

      Whatever that purpose might be, Swift doubted that it was benevolent. He could not ignore the destructive power displayed so conspicuously on what almost certainly were ships of war.

      So yet again, the dice were in his hands. Play it safe, or gamble his ship and the lives of the 83 crewmen onboard.

      He made up his mind, then gave himself an extra moment to change it.

      He didn't change it.

      Ensign Bellweather, he said. Bring us closer. Mariko, open hailing frequencies.

      Swift thought that he could feel J'Tull's disapproving gaze boring into his back, and he turned. Her eyes were fixed rigidly on a console, but he had the distinct impression that she'd just flicked them there an instant ago.

      He turned back to the fleet of ships on the viewer. Martin, he said calmly. Do not power up weapons, but be ready for anything.

      Aye, Captain, said Simon. His voice was taut, his attention fully focused on his duty, as always.

      You, too, Tanner, Swift told his helmsman. We may need to put those engines through their paces.

      Ensign Tanner Bellweather played the controls on the helm console before him. Aye, sir, he said.

      Swift nodded, assured that his well-oiled machine of a bridge crew was ready for whatever would come next. He looked around at them, noting proudly how far they'd come since Exogenesis had first left Earth orbit.

      It was funny how daily close calls could take the wet right out from behind your ears.

      No response to hails, Captain, said Mariko.

      Keep trying, said Swift.

      A minute ticked past, followed by another. The giant golden ships on the viewer continued their implacable progress, ignoring the buzzing pest in their wake.

      Mariko? Swift spoke without diverting his eyes from the screen.

      Nothing, said the communications officer.

      Swift narrowed his eyes and wondered if he should cut bait. It was looking more and more likely that the aliens wanted to be left alone.

      Turning toward J'Tull, he caught her gaze. The Hephaestan's impassive eyes revealed nothing of her thoughts, but Swift was sure that he knew her opinion of the situation.

      Bring us closer, he told Tanner, keeping his eyes locked with J'Tull's for another beat before turning away.

      The ships on the viewer grew larger as Exogenesis approached, revealing more detail on the cannons and turrets bristling their hulls. Swift watched for the slightest motion, the faintest hint of aggression, acutely aware that his ship was hopelessly outmatched and outnumbered.

      Anything, Mariko? he said.

      Still no response. Though the tension in her voice was a notch higher than the overall stress level on the bridge, Swift was satisfied with her composure. In some ways, she was still the least well-adjusted to the rigors of their voyage, but the difference between her demeanor now and at the start of the trip was like the difference between night and day.

      Steady as she goes, Tanner, said Swift…and then something changed.

      Nothing on the viewer gave it away. The image of the golden warships, glittering with starlight, could have been a painting, unchanged from one moment to the next.

      Somehow, though, before the first shout from Martin, Swift had a feeling that he'd pressed his luck too far. He opened his mouth to tell Tanner to back off.

      Before he could get a word out, Martin raised the alarm.

      Incoming! said the tactical officer. One of the ships is firing a plasma beam in our direction!

      Hard about! Swift ordered his helmsman. All hands, brace for impact!

      A bright flare surged on the viewer, racing toward them like a comet…then streaking away as the Exogenesis spun around to reverse course. Swift half-fell into his command chair, gripping the armrests as the ship's gravity generators strained to compensate for the sudden change in direction.

      They missed, said Martin. But I'm quite sure they meant to.

      The stars on the screen stopped spinning. A shot across our bow, said Swift. There's that hello we were waiting for.

      The universal language, said Martin.

      We are fortunate that they were not in a more talkative mood, said J'Tull.

      Turn us about and hold position, said Swift, leaning forward in the command chair. Onscreen, the stars slid around again and the fleet reappeared, shrinking as it moved away.

      Swift rubbed his chin thoughtfully, watching the giant ships recede. Where are they headed?

      Barring any course changes, one inhabited world lies directly in their path, said J'Tull. "If they continue at their present speed, they will reach Vox in just over

      twenty-four hours."

      What do we know about Vox? said Swift.

      Two point five billion inhabitants, said J'Tull. A civilization on the cusp of developing gravity drive technology.

      By any chance, said Swift, do they happen to have defenses capable of repelling an invasion fleet?

      They do not, said J'Tull.

      Well then, said Swift, rising from the command chair. I guess we'll be paying them a visit.

      Expecting an argument, he turned to J'Tull, but she said nothing. She didn't have to; when it came to guessing her opinion on risky plans, Swift was a mind reader.

      What's the current speed of the fleet? said Swift.

      G2, Captain, said Martin.

      At any time since we've been following them, said Swift, have they gone faster than G2?

      No sir, said Martin.

      Good, said Swift. If that's their best speed, we can get to Vox before they do.

      And when we get there? said J'Tull. What then?

      Like Paul Revere, said Swift. We offer a warning and ride out of town. 'The British are coming.'

      J'Tull stiffened. Swift thought that if she stiffened any more, she would snap. And what do you hope to accomplish with this warning? she said. Incite a global panic? Throw the planet into chaos before the fleet arrives?

      Swift sighed and shook his head. Honestly, he said, I don't know.

      It is illogical to take an action if…

      Swift cut her off. If that was Earth out there, he said, and I was on it, I'd want somebody to warn me.

      J'Tull fell silent but did not relax her rigid posture.

      All right then. Swift clapped his hands together, signaling that the matter was no longer open for debate. How long will it take us to reach Vox at G5 speed?

      There was no delay in Tanner's response, so Swift knew that he'd been running the numbers before the question was asked. A little over twelve hours, Captain.

      Swift nodded. Plot a course to Vox, Ensign. And give those ships out there a wide berth.

      Aye, sir, said Tanner. Swift noted that the helmsman didn't touch a control, meaning that he'd already plotted the new course. As always, Tanner was a step ahead, thanks to a lifetime of piloting experience; having grown up on a deep space freighter, he'd been driving spacecraft since about the time he was in diapers.

      Swift keyed the communications panel on the arm of his chair, opening a channel to Engineering. Zeke? he said, calling for his chief engineer and good friend.

      Zeke's Southern accent filtered from the speaker. Here, Cap'n! He was shouting, so he must not have been near a comm panel.

      We need G5 for the next twelve hours, said Swift. Any problem with that?

      Not at this time, shouted Zeke through the speaker. Thanks for the heads-up.

      Swift switched off the comm panel and lowered himself into the command chair. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he folded his hands and stared at the ships on the viewer, distant flecks of gold drifting into the glittering starfield.

      On the verge of throwing caution to the wind for the umpteenth time, he hesitated. Putting his ship between an invasion fleet and its target might just be the most foolhardy action he'd taken yet…which was saying a lot. Still, he could not dismiss his rationale for getting involved: if that was Earth out there, and he was on it, he would want to know what was coming.

      Okay, Tanner, he said finally. Let's go to Vox. And don't spare the horses.

      Tanner touched a button and Exogenesis leaped forward.

      CHAPTER TWO

      Ensign Mariko Nakamura had had this nightmare before.

      She was on the surface of an alien world with her captain and crewmates. They all turned to her for help, for understanding. Lives depended on her making sense of an alien language that she had never heard before, which should not have been a big deal, because alien linguistics was her specialty…

      …but she found herself drowning in a sea of gibberish.

      A tide of babble washed over her, a wave of seemingly disconnected sounds from a mob of creatures. Billions of phonemes, the smallest units of language, crashed together, mixing with millions of clicks and lip-smacks that could themselves be part of a language or just random biological noise.

      The tide swelled and swirled and Mariko felt herself going under. Again and again, she grabbed at the current but could never make sense of it.

      The display on the multiterpreter that she carried--a device capable of translating alien languages into understandable onscreen text--blinked with indecipherable nonsense.

      She had had this nightmare before. The only problem was, this time, she was wide awake.

      The fact that she had experienced this moment, or one very much like it, so many times before in her dreams, made her panic build more swiftly than it might otherwise have done. The fact that it tapped so directly into her innermost fears lent the scene a power and malevolence that were larger than life.

      Her heart raced. She looked around at the crowd of beings who surrounded her, sleek-furred and slender like otters, and a chill shot down her spine.

      Then, she felt Captain Swift touch her arm.

      Mariko? he said softly, his voice laden with concern.

      She took a deep breath and gathered herself up. Enough of this.

      She was not having a nightmare. She was on the surface of the planet Vox with Captain Swift, Commander J'Tull, and Commander Turner. It was up to her to warn the inhabitants about the approaching invasion fleet.

      It was time to start acting like a professional.

      Nodding to Captain Swift, she took another deep breath and turned to the crowd.

      Quiet! she shouted, as loud as she could, her voice rising over the tumult.

      She got her message across. Suddenly, the chaos of noise and chatter subsided. The gleaming black pearl eyes of the dozens of Vox in the city square all slid around to focus on her.

      Mariko cleared her throat and took a step forward, fixing her attention on a single brown-furred being. She had to look up to meet the alien's gaze; like all Vox, he (she guessed it was a male because it was bulkier and had a deeper voice than others in the crowd) towered a full head higher than the tallest member of the Exogenesis away team…which came out to a head and a half taller than Mariko.

      Hi, said Mariko, mustering a smile.

      The brown-furred Vox rattled off a stream of incomprehensible syllables, at the same time gesturing at a furious pace and click-smacking up a storm.

      For a moment, Mariko listened and watched the Vox's four-clawed hands flutter and weave. Then, she closed her eyes, blocking out the movement and letting the flurry of sounds rush through her.

      Pared down from dozens of voices to one, reduced further from sound and motion to sound alone, the communication seemed less overwhelmingly chaotic. As she absorbed it, Mariko realized that it could be simplified even further.

      Opening her eyes, she interrupted the Vox by raising both hands, palms flattened toward him. Only this, she said slowly, pointing to her lips.

      Then, pronouncing each letter with slowness and clarity, she recited the English alphabet. She hoped that the Vox would get the idea: she wanted to hear pulmonic sounds only, those created with an air stream from the lungs…sounds like the vowels and consonants of the alphabet. All the clicking and smacking was getting in the way.

      When she was done, she raised her hands toward the Vox, palms up, indicating that it was his turn.

      Message received. This time, the Vox's speech was slower and free of clicks and smacks. Finally, Mariko could pick out distinct syllables arranged in patterns.

      She had isolated a spoken language, one using pulmonic vowels and consonants, not hand signs or clicks or smacks…and therefore easiest for the multiterpreter to process.

      Not that the hand signs, clicks and smacks weren't part of a language themselves. Mariko was sure that they were, which had been the problem. The pulmonic syllables formed one language. The clicks and smacks comprised a second language. A third language consisted of hand signs.

      The Vox had three different languages, and they used them all at once. They carried on three conversations at the same time, or one conversation with three levels.

      No wonder Mariko and the translator device had been stumped. Neither was wired to process so much simultaneous, multilingual input.

      As the Vox spoke, Mariko's translator took in everything, identifying repeated patterns and relationships between sounds…comparing them to language models in its database…constructing a rudimentary vocabulary and a framework of syntax on which to hang it.

      Before long, the chicken scratch on the translator's display became readable output – lines of text representing the alien's words, printed phonetically, laid out alongside an English translation of those words.

      At about the same time that the translator kicked in, Mariko started to put it together herself. Her heart beat fast, this time with the familiar thrill of making sense of what had once seemed an indecipherable puzzle.

      Listening and studying the translator display for a few moments more, she collected her thoughts. Touching keys on the device, she accessed the newly created vocabulary database for the Vox tongue, clarifying the choice of words that she would use.

      Then, she interrupted the brown-furred creature (who seemed willing and able to carry on an endless monologue) and rattled off a sentence.

      The Vox reared back, the whiskers on his stubby snout twitching. He gestured excitedly, then caught himself and clasped his hands together to stop the movement. Again speaking slowly, without the static of clicks and smacks, he released a few clear words; then he waved, beckoning for Mariko and the others to follow him. The assembled crowd parted just enough to make way.

      Mariko turned to Captain Swift and the others and repeated the Vox's gesture, waving for them to follow. Come on, she said. I think we're finally getting somewhere.

      What did you say to him? said Captain Swift.

      'Take us to your leader,' Mariko said with a little smile.

      CHAPTER THREE

      As Mariko and the rest of the away team followed their guide through the Vox city, she again felt chills run down her spine…but this time, the chills were inspired by awe, not fear. Though she had seen the wonders of Earth and some amazing sights on alien worlds, she had never in her life seen anything as beautiful as this.

      It was a see-through city made of pastel stained glass.

      Towers scaled remarkable heights – some squared, some cylindrical, some spiraling into feathery clouds. Vast castles straddled block after city block, turrets shooting sky high. There were domes and cones and pyramids, spheres and cubes. All of it was connected from ground level to highest spire by a filigree of crisscrossing strands, a web of tubing laced around and over and through every structure.

      And every tube, every wall, every surface was transparent and flowing with pastel color. Pale yellows and blues and reds and greens and violets swirled and rippled like the clouds on a gas giant planet, mixing and pulsing…but never obscuring the perfect view of what lay behind them. Mariko could see right into every room and tube, could see

      fur-covered citizens in motion and at rest and staring right back out at her. Even more, because the floors and ceilings and walls were all transparent, she could see through one building and into the next, could look all the way up through every level of every tower.

      It was at once breathtaking and disconcerting to see such a city of people stacked to the heights and strung all around, all seemingly floating, supported only by whorls and bands and streams of color.

      Mariko felt like she was floating, too, and not just because she was caught up in the spectacular surroundings. Thanks to the low gravity on Vox, she weighed only half what she did on Earth or onboard the Exogenesis. She felt airy and light on her feet, as if at any moment she could push off from the ground and rise up to glide and pirouette among the filigree and spires.

      According to J'Tull, it was the light gravity that made the city possible, enabling such fragile, lofty structures to stand. The chief building material was a light polymer with electrostatic properties that produced the colorful tints. Even stretched into impossibly thin sheets, its high tensile strength supported amazing weight…but on Earth, at twice the gravity, it would have shattered under a far smaller load.

      As she stepped lightly down crystalline walkways, her body lit with shifting pastel colors cast by sunbeams poured through rainbow walls, Mariko was glad that she wasn't on Earth.

      Alongside her, the brown-furred Vox – whose name was Nalo – chattered away, but Mariko didn't pay much attention. Behind her, a growing mob of similarly vocal Vox generated a rising clamor, but she didn't listen.

      For once, she was all eyes, not ears. The linguist was at a loss for words.

      When Nalo led the away team into one of the soaring towers, Mariko gazed upward…and realized that her view was unobstructed by even the tinted, transparent walls and ceilings that honeycombed other buildings. She could see all the way from ground level to the distant pinnacle, seemingly a mile above. It was all one vast cathedral, walled in light and color, empty but for a ring of slender glassy pillars that corkscrewed into the heavenly heights.

      As she peered up into the otherworldly steeple, Mariko half-expected to see a host of angels drift downward...so she was startled when she noticed that faraway figures were indeed descending from the upper reaches. At first, they were so distant that they were little more than specks, but even then, Mariko could see that they were acrobatically inclined. The five figures moved fast, zipping down the slender pillars…and amazingly, leaping from one pillar to another at high altitudes with perfect ease and grace.

      As they drew closer, she realized that they were Vox, and they were climbing down headfirst, like squirrels descending the trunks of trees. They scurried downward fearlessly, skinny bodies twisting around the corkscrew pillars, making heart-stopping dives from pole to pole with no more visible effort than kids playing on monkey bars.

      Mariko's shipmates were near, all craning their necks to watch the spectacle. Captain Swift whistled softly in amazement and Commander Turner muttered stunned exclamations. J'Tull said nothing, which was no surprise, but there wasn't a peep out of Nalo or the mob who had followed them into the tower, either. If even the chatterbox locals maintained a respectful silence here, Mariko supposed that the away team was indeed in the presence of some kind of leadership.

      Leaping and zipping down the pillars, the five acrobatic Vox closed the distance from the pinnacle in a twinkling. As they approached, Mariko could make out their differences in coloration: two had black fur, one silver, one gold, and one red. Like all Vox, they wore no clothing, though their fur coats were daubed with colorful

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