Rajani Chronicles II Read online

  Rajani Chronicles II

  Resistance

  Brian S. Converse

  Copyright 2018 by Brian S. Converse

  This is a work of fiction. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9987964-8-2

  Cover Art by

  Lawrence Mann

  www.lawrencemann.co/uk

  For LAZDE

  Always

  Thank you to all who contributed in some way to the publication of this book,

  including my excellent editor, Melissa.

  I’m eternally grateful.

  Thanks, mom.

  Recap

  James Dempsey was a Detroit Police Lieutenant until he inexplicably awoke aboard an alien spacecraft. He and four other humans, Yvette, Gianni, Rick, and Kieren, learned they had been kidnapped by a group of Rajani who were fleeing their home planet. Rajan had been invaded by intergalactic pirates known as the Krahn Hoard. The Rajani pleaded for assistance in ridding their world of the Krahn invaders, offering in return a gift beyond measure: objects that, when implanted into their hosts, gave them incredible powers.

  In dire need of training in the use of these powers, the Rajani ship, the Tukuli, stopped at a space station in search of someone who could build a training area aboard the ship. The station offered its own dangers, though, in the form of the Alliance Society for Peace, the police force of the Galactic Alliance. Led on the station by Ries an na Van, the ASPs would immediately jail the Rajani if they were discovered.

  Amidst the new experiences and dangers, James and Yvette allowed their attraction for each other to become a fierce romance. Loners by choice and chance, the two humans were surprised and happy to find someone while so far from home.

  With a daring escape from the station and the ASPs, the Tukuli made its way toward Rajan, only to be shot down over the planet’s surface by the Krahn Hoard’s enormous mothership. The humans abandoned ship, separated into escape pods, while the Rajani crew stayed aboard in hopes of steering the ship away from the capital city of Melaanse.

  Now they must hope they can find their friends on the surface of planet, as well as any type of Resistance from the Rajani population….

  Prologue

  Bhakat raced down the corridor, hoping for enough time to reach the bridge and persuade Rauphangelaa to run to an escape pod. Or carry him, if that’s what it took to get him off the dying Tukuli.

  He came to the door and pushed the open button as the ship shuddered violently. It felt like one of the engines had either stopped or dropped off, and the floor began to tilt slightly as the door opened and he pulled himself through.

  Rauph was sitting in Janan’s usual seat, pulling the steering yoke, and under incredible strain, from the looks of things. He didn’t turn when Bhakat screamed his name.

  “Rauphangelaa, we need to get off the ship!”

  “We can’t let it crash into the city!” Rauph yelled back, still fighting with the controls.

  Bhakat carefully made his way to where his Master sat, walking clumsily across the tilted floor.

  “Help me keep her up,” Rauph grunted.

  Bhakat reached for the controls, working along with Rauph to pull it back. The viewscreen showed them moving lower over the city, and then the wide expanse of the ocean beyond. It was going to be close.

  The two Rajani pulled as one, keeping the nose of the ship as straight as they could. Within seconds, the last building was past the viewscreen, and they had an uninterrupted view of the vast ocean.

  “Strap into a chair,” Rauph shouted. “Let go!”

  Reluctantly, Bhakat let go of the yoke and crawled toward the captain’s chair behind them. His arms felt like dead weight at his sides. He made it to the chair and climbed up into it, fastening the crash belts.

  “Hold on!” was the last thing Bhakat heard before the jarring impact told him that they had hit something.

  Chapter 1

  Alliance Society for Peace Commander Ries an na Van, Chief Protector of Sector 7, Subsector 2, which included the Mandakan Solar System, could not have found himself in more trouble if he tried. Not only had his own ship, the Interceptor, been disabled by a fugitive Rajani starship named the Tukuli, but the Waverider, the ship he had dispatched to Sector 9, Subsector 3, otherwise known as the Rajani System, had also been disabled and set adrift in space by the same fugitive starship.

  Now Commander Thydosh Complin of the Waverider was attempting to pass off his failure onto Ries, claiming Ries hadn’t properly informed him of the Tukuli’s weapons’ capabilities. In response, the Alliance Society for Peace Central Command had recalled the Interceptor and all of its crew to the seat of the Alliance and were planning a full investigation into the events that led up to the Waverider’s disablement.

  This meant Ries would be under close scrutiny from his superiors. It was attention he couldn’t afford. He needed to generate a defense for his failure with the Rajani ship, or he could be looking at a loss of his command. He could possibly even face jail time, if the High Command discovered some of his less-than-legal activities aboard the Mandakan Space Port, where he was currently stationed. He oversaw all commerce on the port, both legal and illegal, and had allowed both, as long as he received his proper cut of the profits.

  He didn’t know anything about the Rajani, outside of the usual stories every child in the Alliance was told while growing up. The Rajani were supposed to be hulking monsters; ruthless killing machines who showed no mercy, whether their victims were male, female, offspring, or eggs. Their bloodlust and despicable deeds were told to frighten children into behaving from one end of the Alliance to the other. His mother had been more practical in her tactics when it came to punishing misbehaving young ones. You behaved or you were eaten. It was simple, but a very effective deterrent.

  Ries wanted to know more about the Rajani. He wanted to know the truth about them, and about how they could have disabled his ship without using any known weapons. This was why he found himself sitting at the large desk in his quarters aboard the Interceptor and logged into his ship’s central computer via his cranial implant. He’d been ordered to dock the Interceptor at the Gorplash Space Station, orbiting the planet Asnuria, seat of the Alliance Society for Peace Central Command. He and his crew were to be confined to the ship until his superiors finished their investigation and decided whether or not to levy any punishment.

  Ries closed his eyes and cleared his mind, seeing the Galactic Alliance shield before his eyes. He opened his eyes once more, still seeing the shield in front of him, as if it were projected on the bare wall instead of only in his mind. His cranial implant was networked into the vision and hearing centers of his brain.

  “Begin search,” he said in Talondarian Standard, though if he wanted, he could have thought the command. He was still a bit old-fashioned when it came to technology, and liked to feel as if he were having a quiet conversation with the central computer. It gave him a sense of autonomy, at least, instead of feeling like he was only a small hardware component in the central computer’s network.

  “Command acknowledged,” the Interceptor’s central computer said, though there was actually no sound heard in the room. This query was private. “Awaiting search parameters,” the computer continued.

  “Rajani species overview,” he said, after thinking about where to begin. Best to start at the beginning if he really wanted a thorough understanding of the subject.

  Everything Ries did was thorough. After a brief instant, a scroll of files began to appear on the wall in front of him. When it stopped, he picked one that looked promising and told the computer to read it aloud.

  “The
Rajani species was discovered in the Talondarian Standard year 10563,” the computer began. “The Rajani were admitted to the Galactic Alliance in Talondarian Standard year 10574. In 10591, began interstellar offensive against Planet A472, a planet in Sector 9, Subsector 4. Completed offensive in 10592. In 10594, began offensive against Planet A463, a planet in—”

  “Stop,” Ries said. He had a feeling that he’d be there all day if he let the computer list the complete history of Rajani aggression toward other planets. “Refine search. No need to list all of their conquests. Tell me about their civilization.”

  “Rajan. See Planet A490.”

  “Proceed,” Ries said, taking a drink of kolan, a beverage he had received as a gift from the King of Mandaka himself, for his service to the planet. It was one of the main exports of Mandaka, and in high demand around the Alliance. His personal stores were worth a considerable amount.

  “Classified, Level 7K4. Access denied. Inquiry logged,” the computer responded.

  Strange, Ries thought. Why would information about the planet Rajan be classified at the highest level of Alliance security? “Computer, tell me of Rajani history.”

  “Rajan was discovered in the year—” the computer began.

  “I told you to skip that part,” Ries said, beginning to get angry. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the central computer was being deliberately obtuse. But for what purpose?

  “Input parameters of search request,” the computer said.

  “Tell me about the current Rajani society,” he said, trying to stay calm.

  “Rajan. See Planet A2242,” the computer said.

  “What?” Ries asked, confused. Why did the planet have two Alliance Designation Numbers? Was it even possible, or had some administrative underling input a wrong number?

  “Rajan. See Planet A2242,” the computer responded again, thinking he hadn’t heard its initial response.

  “Be quiet while I think for a moment,” he told the computer, irritably. He took a large mouthful of kolan and swallowed it, feeling a tingle pass up his antennae. Finally, it occurred to him. There were two Designation Numbers, because there were two different planets. It was the only answer that made sense. The Alliance was an enormous bureaucracy, and any administrative clerk had two or three other admin personnel checking their work. Something as important as an Alliance Designation Number wouldn’t stay incorrect for long.

  “Computer, access files for Planet A2242. Specifically the history of the planet as it concerns the Rajani.”

  “See Ruvedalin Initiative,” the computer answered.

  “Proceed,” Ries said. He was starting to regret even taking an interest in the Rajani. They could all dry up and die as far as he was concerned. Sometimes he hated his own curious nature; it had gotten him in trouble many times.

  “Classified to Level 7K4. Access denied. Inquiry logged. Warning, security violation detected. Authorities have been notified, per Directive 9WQ2.”

  “Blast!” Ries yelled, pounding three of his fists on his desktop and shutting off his cranial link with his other hand. He stood up and paced for a minute, his antennae twitching in disgust and frustration.

  The ship’s central computer spoke over his room’s communication system. “Security breach reported. Violation of Alliance Code T567. Commander Ries an na Van, you are hereby placed under house arrest and relieved of your duties until further notice. Please comply.”

  “What?” he asked, incredulously. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Computer? Computer, acknowledge.” There was no answer. He sat at his desk and touched the button below his earhole that activated his cranial implant.

  Lines of text appeared on the wall before him, in front of the Alliance Society for Peace crest. It was the same text as the proclamation just made by the Interceptor’s central computer. “Computer? Computer!” He gave up and turned off the implant in disgust, knowing he had been disconnected on purpose. He’d been wrong in his earlier assessment of his situation. He could be in more trouble.

  #

  Tumaani tuc Afraati was enjoying a late dinner with three of his mates when the Krahn attacked. His oldest offspring were no longer younglings, having left his estate and started families of their own. His youngest were now Pledged to other Elders’ Houses, as was the tradition, so only he and his mates and a few servants were now living on his large estate.

  The sound of explosions and weapons being fired suddenly sounded throughout his house. Tumaani stood and looked out the window, seeing small ships firing at the buildings of his estate from the air. Many of the buildings were already burning, with thick, black smoke billowing up from their windows.

  “Tumaani, what is it?” asked his third mate, Narven, wide-eyed. She was the youngest of his mates, and prone to excitability.

  “I don’t know who they are,” Tumaani said. “Rulina,” he yelled at his second mate, as he saw a building explode just next to his house through one of the windows. “Get everyone downstairs to the basement. Quickly!” He ducked as another nearby explosion shook the house. “Zanth,” he yelled at a Sekani servant, “make sure all of the doors are locked, and then join them in the shelter.”

  He headed down a short hallway to his estate’s computer system and quickly began implementing security protocols to the central computer located in downtown Melaanse. As Keeper of the Past, it was his duty to both keep his species’ history chronicled completely, and also to ensure any sensitive information didn’t fall into the possession of outsiders. Especially when those outsiders were currently attacking his planet.

  He didn’t know at the time who was attacking, only that they weren’t from Rajan. Rajan had no weapons, so they must have come from off-planet. He had just locked down the last file when he saw a broad-sent message notification flashing on his computer screen. He pushed the button, opening the message, and saw it was from the Keeper of the Stones, Rauphangelaa. The message stated Rauphangelaa had escaped on his ship, the Tukuli, and would do what he could to bring back help.

  He heard another explosion just outside his front door and saw black smoke billowing down the hallway toward him. His house was on fire. He needed to make sure everyone had escaped safely to the basement shelter. There was the sound of running feet, and dark, armored figures approached through the smoke. Tumaani turned to run away from the hissing monsters but was hit on the head and knocked unconscious by the force of the blow.

  #

  When Tumaani woke up, he found himself lying on the ground, covered by a blanket, and looking up at a torn and dirty canvas, some eight feet over him. He was in a tent. By the quality of the light, he could tell it was either late afternoon or early morning.

  His head ached, and he thought he was going to be physically ill if he moved, so he lay there for a moment, until it occurred to him his head was cold. It was a sensation he had not felt in many years; not since the time he had become an Elder. He sat up slowly, reaching a tentative hand up to his head, afraid of what he’d find. It was bare. Shaved. His Ralik was gone. All that was left were a few wisps of hair missed by whatever had been used to shave his scalp. He leaned over, his eyes filling with tears.

  He cried silently, afraid to make a sound, not wanting to alert his captors to the fact he was awake. The flap of his tent opened suddenly, and he backed away quickly, wiping away tears as he did so, unable to see more than a dark silhouette filling the doorway.

  “Tumaani?” a voice asked softly. “Tumaani, it’s me.”

  Tumaani sobbed in relief at the sound of his second mate’s voice. It was Rulina. She had made it out of his house alive. Soon she was in his embrace as they cried together. After a moment, she pulled back from him.

  “Rulina, who has done this? Who attacked us? Where are the others?”

  “The Krahn,” she answered, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her clothing. “The Krahn are responsible for this. I haven’t seen anyone else since they took us. Zanth and a few others escaped, but most of us were captured when we
left the basement shelter.”

  “Krahn?” he asked. “But why?”

  “No one seems to know,” she responded. “The Krahn haven’t done anything except lock us up in the old prison.”

  “We’re in the prison?” he asked, confused.

  “The courtyard,” she said. “They ran out of cells for all of us. It’s horrible, Tumaani. They have so many of us packed in here, and there’s no food or water. No medicine for the sick and injured. Some have already died from their wounds. It’s been two days since the attacks began.”

  “I must speak with the other Elders,” he said, beginning to stand.

  “It’s not allowed,” she said, placing a restraining hand on his chest. “They’re keeping all of the Elders separated. They said any Elders who are caught talking to each other will be killed immediately.”

  Tumaani paused and then stood up. “I have to see.” He helped her to stand as well, and, together, they walked out of the tent and into the sunlight. What he saw made his stomach lurch, leaving him sure he would vomit or begin to cry again, though he wasn’t sure which. He stopped just outside his tent to look around. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of Rajani filling the courtyard of the prison.

  Some had small tents similar to what he had woken up in, or shelters improvised from pieces of clothing, but most either stood or sat in large groups. He could also see some were bandaged, and some looked like they had succumbed to their wounds and had been left where they’d died. He couldn’t remember ever seeing so many Rajani gathered in one place before. If what Rulina said was true, there were many more locked in cells within the interior of the prison. He could also see some of the males were shaved bald, as he was. They must be fellow Priests, he thought.

  The Krahn had attempted to take away all symbols of leadership, like his Ralik, the large braid of hair that symbolized a Priest of the Kha. All Elders were Priests, though not all Priests became Elders. The Elder Council was very selective when it came to membership. Tumaani saw Krahn warriors patrolling the high walls of the prison, their weapons pointed down at the mass numbers of Rajani below. He had heard of the Krahn, but had never seen a picture of them. They were an ugly species, all teeth, claws, and scales. He could see some wore slipshod, ill-fitting armor that looked pieced together. Others wore thick clothing under bandoliers of ammunition. They were dressed for the cooler spring Rajani weather.