The Evolution of Vaughn Read online

  “Yeah, I signed a contract. I’m stuck with this big oaf for the next three months at least. If he’s going to make a habit of this, I’m going to have to be able to load him up myself.”

  Vaughn struggled to get Jongus’ arm over his shoulders, and then started dragging him towards the ship. When he got near, Halle lowered the cargo bay ramp, but it was too steep for Vaughn to get the Geraldinian up in that fashion. He set the huge man down on his back and grabbed his wrists to drag him up backwards.

  Jongus grabbed Vaughn’s wrists and heaved, tossing Vaughn down the ramp onto the dock. He instantly regretted not searching the man. The Geraldinian was on his feet in a flash, holding a small plasma gun.

  Vaughn stood up just as the man fired. The shot went wide and Vaughn dove behind a stack of shipping containers.

  The Geraldinian fired several shots at the containers before Frailg calmly stepped out of his office again and walked towards the ship. “You are in violation of the rules of the Fogerian empire and of this facility. Lower your weapon.”

  “Fuck you,” the Geraldinian replied.

  Vaughn laughed and called out, “Big mistake!” In all the years that Frailg had been in charge of the docks, there hadn’t been a single successful incident of piracy. Frailg was small, but astoundingly nimble. His race was marked for their speed.

  Frailg walked straight towards the man and Jongus fired at him. He leaned his head to the side just in time for the bolt to pass by. Jongus fired again, this time Frailg side-stepped and continued towards the Geraldinian.

  “Last warning. Lay your weapon down,” Frailg ordered.

  The Geraldinian kept firing. Frailg moved so quickly he was a blur. His blows didn’t contain a lot of power, but in the space of three or four seconds, he must have landed nearly a thousand. He punched Jongus in the jaw, and before the Geraldinian’s head stopped its backward motion, Frailg was on the other side of him, punching it back the other way. Blow after blow landed, Frailg was all around him. Eventually the Geraldinian collapsed under the hail of blows, unconscious once again.

  Vaughn climbed out from behind the crate. “I’m sorry Frailg. I have no idea what came over him. I’ll get him off your dock.”

  “I’m sorry, Vaughn. I have to take him into custody. Piracy is a serious crime.”

  Vaughn saw the Geraldinian’s hand move. He started to warn Frailg, but the Geraldinian reached out and grabbed the small man’s foot. The Geraldinian picked the dockmaster up by his foot and slammed his head into the dock. Leaving Vaughn with no other option, he grabbed the small gun off the ramp and shot Jongus in the chest.

  He tossed the gun to the side and ran to Frailg. Blood was pouring from a gash in his forehead. “Frailg! You okay?”

  “Ugh…”

  “He’s dead. I shot him.”

  Frailg opened his eyes, and the long slits of his pupils expanded to an almost perfect circle in the dark. “You gotta get out of here, Vaughn. Toss me the pistol. I’ll explain it to the ES.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, go. How could you have known he was completely mental? Glad we got him before you two were on the ship alone.”

  “Thanks, Frailg. You’re a good man.”

  “You too, Vaughn,” he replied, holding his head. “Get out of here before the ES shows up.”

  Vaughn ran up into Halle and closed the ramp.

  Chapter 7 The Institute For War

  Date: 400th Year of Emperor Valek Foger XXVI

  Thirty years earlier, Vaughn’s mother and a blue skinned Fogerian sat at a table in the living room of Vaughn’s house. Everything they had was provided by the Emperor as payment for the death of Vaughn’s father. They lived in a special housing unit, reserved for the families of those who gave their life in dedicated service to the empire. The foger believed strongly in rewarding those who showed loyalty, at least as much as they believed in punishing traitors.

  “Miss Troupe,” began the Fogerian recruiter, “Your son Vaughn is a talented boy. His innate understanding of computational physics is amazing, for a Human.”

  “But he’s just a boy. Twelve years old is far too young. Can’t we let him grow up a little bit before sending him off to war?” Melanie Troupe replied. “He’s my only son, and my husband already gave his life to the Empire.”

  The Fogerian recruiter was a beautiful woman with the standard Fogerian lack of modesty. She had long, navy blue hair and sparkling green eyes. Her neck seemed impossibly long, as if she had one or even two extra vertebra as compared with a Human, which led down to thin, well-muscled shoulders. The similarities stopped with physical appearance, however. According to Human lore, Fogerian people lived until they were tired of living. The Emperor who had negotiated with Willa The Great died when Vaughn’s mother was a small child, and Humans had been on Foger for millennia. Because they were so long-lived, they were slow to change.

  “War with the E’Clei is inevitable. This is not common knowledge, but we have already had a number of skirmishes with them. We would like to start his training now so when the time for war is at hand, we will be ready. I’m afraid I must insist, Miss Troupe. Your Emperor, may he guide us safely through, needs your family once again.” The Fogerian woman handed Melanie a document containing conscription orders and Vaughn was given two hours to pack up a few belongings and say goodbye to his mother. That was the last time he ever saw her.

  The Fogerian woman who conscripted him, Malika Derg, was his military council throughout his career. The early days at The Institute for War were difficult for Vaughn. He was thrown into learning far beyond anything he’d been taught at his Human schools, and expected to keep up. Every morning, Vaughn would don a golden circlet, and for the next several hours, information was dumped into his brain. For hours afterward, Vaughn would sort through, categorize, and make connections based on the information he received, often laying on the floor of his room, staring at the expansive white ceiling.

  When he had mastered calculation and physics, he was put to the test. At age fourteen, in the 402nd year of Emperor Valek Foger XXVI, Vaughn awoke to Malika sitting on the bed beside him, stroking his hair.

  She spoke softly, “It’s time, child. Today is the day you prove yourself an asset to The Empire. Are you ready?”

  Vaughn rolled over onto his back, looking up at Malika. Physically, she was the standard of beauty. The young pupil had spent many hours in the shower wondering how Human and foger relations would work. She was over two meters tall, with large breasts and a wide mouth. The skin of her race was much thicker than that of a Human, and had a soft outer layer on top of a firm under. It made them tougher in battle, but even with that they were no match for a trained Human, who were far stronger. The thicker skin meant foger women didn’t suffer the same effects of gravity as Human women.

  Vaughn later learned that the foger do not engage in sexual activity. Females laid two eggs in the shallow water of the ocean. Males ejaculated onto them and the babies hatched a month later in the warm ocean water. The eggs were formed in the breasts, and passed through what was the nipple in Human women.

  They spent the first part their life as an aquatic species. Sometime around their hundredth year, their tails fell off and they made their way to shore. Over the course of several weeks, their gills would close and their lungs start to function, and on that day, they left the ocean. In ancient times, every emergent person was on their own, starting their life with nothing. An emergent had no idea of society, social skills, or language.

  In the modern era, every foger mother donated a percentage of their wealth into a fund that built living quarters in the shallows and an educational complex to help the emergent assimilate into society. Genetic testing could identify the mother, but the foger were strongly against the idea. In their culture, everyone made their own way, and ties to parental lineage were an unfair advantage, or in some cases, a liability to place on the shoulders of the next generation. The only exception was the lineage of the Emperor, who hatched in a special tidal pool, separated from the harsh ocean environment.

  Young Vaughn sat up in his bunk. “I guess I’m ready. I’m afraid.”

  “You’ll be fine. Clear your mind and let the calculations happen. You are gifted, even by foger standards. Go put your uniform on.”

  Vaughn got out of bed and walked over to the pot in the corner to relieve himself before putting on his uniform.

  The two of them walked towards the launch pad. Malika talked softly the whole way, attempting to assuage the fears of her young protégée. “Over the last two years, you have given me a unique understanding of why Human mothers spend so much time with their offspring. I have spent hours analyzing my feelings for you, and have come to the conclusion that they are much as a mother would feel for her child.”

  The boy walked a few steps, before replying, “I’m not sure you can quite understand what it’s like for us, since as children we are completely dependent on our mothers and fathers. Without our parents, we wouldn’t survive. Our parents, on the other hand, feel an intense responsibility for us. It’s both biological and environmental,” Vaughn said, suddenly missing his mother very much. He looked up at Malika, who looked like he’d hurt her feelings. “I mean, I feel an affinity for you. I think it’s sort of like if you were my aunt, my mother’s sister. She feels a familial responsibility for me, and she loves me because she’s been there for my whole life, but she doesn’t have the biological aspect.” He smiled his most charming smile at her, trying to make her feel better.

  Malika smiled back, and put her finger to her chin. “I think you may be right. I would like it very much if you thought of me as your aunt. I feel a responsibility and affection for you,” she said, smoothing his hair down. “Aunt Malika. I like the sound of that, if you are okay with it.”

  “Yes, Aunt Malika,” he replied. “I think that’s just fine.”

  The two walked hand in hand towards the shuttle pad. At the base of the station, Malika knelt down and pulled Vaughn close, hugging him tightly. He’d never seen a foger show affection before. “This feels good,” she said in his ear. “We will do this again when you return. You are smart, Vaughn. When you get out there, self-doubt will paralyze you. There is no room for doubt, banish it from your consciousness. When you are up there, lost in the stars, know that I wouldn’t have allowed you to go if you weren’t ready.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Mal. I will make you proud.”

  “You already make me proud. Now go, and come back. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  Vaughn turned and walked up to the shuttle. There were four others on the craft, the pilot and three fellow students. Vaughn had never been accepted by his classmates. Like most foger, they were racist, believing themselves superior in every way. He sat one of the four seats in the back of the shuttle.

  Across the aisle, Kinfron Agron stared at him. Vaughn felt stupid and childlike, strapping himself into a seat designed for someone much taller than he was. Kinfron had emerged fifteen years before, and acted like a typical Human teenager, except he had a fully grown body. On Vaughn’s first day at the institute, Kinfron and two other boys had beaten him severely, just for being Human. Everyone knew that Humans were stronger than foger, but a twelve year old Human boy was no match for a physically developed opponent.

  Kinfron had never let Vaughn forget that he’d bested him physically. Vaughn used that embarrassment every day in his physical training, hoping that one day Kinfron would try again. Even at fourteen, with six or eight years left until he was at his physical peak, Vaughn was three times stronger and a dedicated student of The Path, the fighting style developed for Human soldiers.

  “Ohh, baby Vaughn, going out into deep space. Are you going to cry little Human?” the blue skinned man jeered from across the aisle.

  “It was nice knowing you, Human,” called another. Vaughn thought his name was Chakkon. “I’m just kidding,” he said, his tone softer. “It wasn’t nice knowing you.”

  The third chimed in. “The Emperor, may he guide us safely through, will be better off without you!”

  Vaughn remembered Malika’s words. “I’ve earned the right to be here, the same as you. Good luck to all of you,” he said as the shuttle lifted off from the surface. The gravitational force pulled his cheeks back as the shuttle pointed straight up, making it look like the boy was bearing his teeth. “I’ll be waiting in the spaceport when you return.”

  Less than a half-hour later, Vaughn stood in the clear tunnel through the space-dock. There were four ships at the end of the dock. The dock manager put Kinfron in the first, a fairly new looking Solar class transport, designed to carry a squad of six Foger and cargo inside the solar system. Chakkon was put into an identical ship, and the third student, whose name Vaughn didn’t know, was placed into an older cargo vessel.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Vaughn said, as he was ushered to the end of the dock, towards a decrepit old shuttle craft. “Does that thing even hold air?”

  “It is functional,” the dock-master replied. “It is all we can spare. We cannot risk losing a Solar class vessel in deep space.” Clearly, no one believed Vaughn would be returning.

  He boarded the ship and strapped himself in. “Computer, what is your designation?”

  “I am designated Halle.” Vaughn shook his head, switching on the automatic controls. The ship’s single engine roared to life, sending the entire ship into something nearing convulsions. The cockpit rattled from every joint. Vaughn leaned back in his seat to strap himself in and the back broke, folding backwards until it rested on the floor. “Fucking great,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. That input is not recognized.”

  “How long until we fold?”

  “Fold in thirty seconds.”

  “After the fold, give me a complete system diagnostic.”

  “I’m sorry, that input is not recognized. Could you please rephrase the command?”

  “How long have you been in service, Halle?”

  “I entered service to the Emperor, may he guide us safely through, one thousand six hundred forty-three years, three months, six days, four hours ago.” The computer’s voice lacked any type of inflection. This was one of the early ships designed to interface with Humans. In 31043.5.31.234, after five hundred generations of living among the foger, Humans were labeled as Human-citizens of the Empire and were allowed to own property.

  “When was your last core update?”

  “Core update XBLIV346.23.204 applied 31043.6.42.234.”

  Vaughn nearly cried. The ship hadn’t had an update since his great-great-great grandfather was a young man working in the mine.

  “Brace for the fold.”

  Vaughn frantically grabbed the bottom of his seat. The ship shook violently. Behind him, in the rear compartment, a pipe burst, flooding the cargo area with atomized coolant. He stumbled a few steps back and sealed off the back, including his food and water.

  “Halle, damage report!” He called.

  “I’m sorry, that input is not recognized. Could you please rephrase the command?”

  “List damaged systems!”

  “Life Support. Engine reactor. Argimonium containment. Structural integrity. Voice Command Processor damaged. Flight control processor damaged. Emergency unfold in three. Two. One.”

  The ship shook once again. Vaughn looked out the tiny porthole in the cockpit compartment. He was spinning wildly, stars streaked past his tiny window.

  Chapter 8 Frasier

  Date: 432nd Year of Emperor Valek Foger XXVI

  Fresia stopped the transport fifteen kilometers out of town at a small dome shaped house. Junked transports, ship parts, and various other pieces of scrap littered the yard. Three children ran through the piles of trash. When they pulled up, a woman came to the door and called out the kids. Jorn, Hunder, and Klim, ran into the house.

  Frasier walked towards his sister, and hugged her. As the siblings broke apart, he asked, “What’s he doing here?”

  She replied, “Vaughn’s son was kidnapped. He needs an independence class generator.”

  Frasier looked at Vaughn. “I have one. It hasn’t been fueled in over ten years, but it worked when I salvaged it.”

  “How much do you want for it?” Vaughn asked.

  “For you? A million,” Frasier replied, staring icily at the man.

  “Come on, Frasier.”

  “You’re wanted for working with the Wyluse. If I get caught helping you, the Foger will execute me. I have a family.”

  “I can’t give you a million crench for an antique generator that may or may not work. I don’t have that kind of money. I can offer a kilo of Argimonium.”

  “A Kilo? That would power an entire planet for a year. Where did you steal that from?”

  “I have a mine. You’d have to dole it out a gram at a time, but you’d be a very rich man,” Vaughn said.

  “He’s telling the truth, Fras. He’s been selling Argimonium on the black market for years,” Fresia interjected.

  “It would take me five years to fence that much and it would draw a lot of attention.” Frasier was looking around as he spoke. “I have a family. I just can’t get involved. What if The Maxists find out?”

  “The Maxists control the market, but they’re not the only source. There is a thriving underground market. It’s more expensive, but that’s profit for you. Give me the generator for the Argimonium. If I make it out of this, I’ll sell it and give you the million crench. If I don’t make it, you can keep the rock and sell it little by little and make ten or fifteen million.”

  Vaughn couldn’t believe he was talking about this much crench for an old used generator. A million would set Frasier up for life, with five million he could buy a dozen ships and pay the crews for years. “That’s the best I can do, Frasier. You don’t have a thousand crench worth of scrap on this whole lot. You could finally get your family out of here.”

  Fresia said, “Please, Frasier. Don’t do it for Vaughn. Do it for Matty.”