Millennium Legacy: Stellar Knight

Millennium

Legacy

Stellar Knight

J. J. Coalwell

Copyright © 2013 J. J. Coalwell.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4497-9141-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9140-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9142-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013906966

WestBow Press rev. date: 4/16/2013

Contents

The Contributors

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

24

25

26

27

28

29

The Contributors

• The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit

• OMNI (organic machine needing input)

• If you had a glimmer of an idea you put into this undertaking, this is you

• A. J. Coalwell

• Emma Borbin, Andromedah Cossnora-Borbin, Zeah Yosh-Borbin

• Vortex

• Onyx, Rubi, and Excelsior Borbin

• Whisper, Crispus, Sarina, and Cover

• War Child

• Charmane, Shaid, Frice, Payne, Raij, Caij, Sole, Myte, Spyce, Zae, and Dane

• Piper, Treble, and Raven Hawk

• Sergin Norgins I–III, Cover, and Sarina

• Moe Money

Thanks, guys. I couldn’t have written this book without you.

Disclaimer:

If there is any reference to Earth in this book, the translator heartily apologizes.

1

On the second day of the third month of 4000, I emerged as the second of twins, dashing the hopes of my parents. They both had hoped for blue eyes from my mother’s side and blond hair from my father’s. What they received was dark red hair from an ancient relative on my mother’s side and eyes from my father’s side that eventually turned a piercing green.

Although permanence had visited my hair and eyes by the time I was one, our mother and father still wondered why. Infidelity on the part of either party wasn’t even a question in my parents’ minds because of the ten blond-haired, blue-eyed children Terrah and I called older siblings. Our parents still laugh at the panic they experienced trying to find anyone in the family lineage who matched the hair and eye color Terrah and I possessed. Father would tell the story about the lengths Mother and he went to firmly pin down the reason for our odd colorations.

Father would always begin the story with a scientist-like discovery pose. Aha! Emma! he would say to Mother when he retold our favorite story to Terrah and the rest of the family for the eighth time. It has to be the Millennial Blessing!

At this Mother would look sympathetically over at Father and say her part. They can’t both have the same blessing, dear. That would be counter to our thoughts on how creative the Eternal Tribune is.

Father would then get a look on his face that still makes me giggle to this day. Turning his scientist pose into a pseudo-detective pose, he would say his next line. I give up. What could make the hair on my young men so red and their eyes so green?

Mother, playing the straight lines, would calmly say, Why don’t we ask the other children to help us?

So starting with Einyah, my two-hundred-year-old sister, we would all look under furniture and other illogical places for clues as to why Terrah and I had red hair and green eyes. The search was cute up to my fifth year of life, when I, using a three-year-old’s voice, suggested we look in the family’s remembrance book.

By the time I was nine, however, the annual cutesy line I had to use was embarrassing. Instead, I decided to stomp back to my room at the Stellar Knight Academy so as not to wait for any sarcasm from my annoying nephew Vincen, who, by sheer coincidence, called the academy home as well. Though I heard the protestations of family behind me, I distinctly remember Mother telling Father, He’s not three anymore, Achron; let him solve his own problem this time.

Stalking angrily through the streets of Skoria on my way to my quarters, I suddenly stopped by a brightly colored shop with a conspicuous comet falling directly into an official dessert tumbler. My mouth suddenly began to water, and I turned into the shop, checking for five trines in my wrist counter. Happily seeing I had more than enough, I strolled into the shop and ordered a Cossnora Comet with extra frem.

I adjusted my appetite when I heard a greeting from the back room. You’re early, Ares. What’s going on?

I told the voice what my problem was as the jolly form of Hiramn Cossnora juggled scoops and artistically twirled the frem at a height that reached over my sitting form.

So you feel Vincen will ruin your birthday if you play your role in your family tradition? Hiramn asked, setting his psychological trap.

Yeah, well, I just couldn’t tell that red-haired, green-eyed story as a three-year-old anymore! I responded, trying to get a calm grip on my dessert spoon.

Family traditions will be family traditions. Hiram smiled, closing the trap.

Terrah and I are a family tradition? Then I saw it. Terrah and I are a family tradition! Brightening up suddenly, I bolted out of Cossnora Comets.

I had a ton of apologies to give—to Terrah especially, since he really never played a part in the family drama. I was so giddy on my way back to my parents’ house that when the door slid open, I began to announce cheerfully, Sorr—

New well-wishers interrupted my train of thought. I found myself facing not a personally important family tradition but a birthday celebration for Terrah and me. I had forgotten this was the only time that story came up. Everyone was there, including Jobe Cossnora, with his father’s portable Comet Maker.

Hi, Ares! Jobe announced. Are you ready for an official Cossnora Comet? Father made sure I packed your favorite cryo-spheres.

Before I had a chance to answer, Jobe took out a piece of aluma-leaf and began following an apparent how-to on making a Cossnora Comet. He began mumbling, Take scoop one and throw it into the air.

As Jobe read what do next, the scoop ricocheted off the frem churn button, and the reddish foam began to churn and grow under the special containing dome.

Seeing he couldn’t go to step two without catching the scoop behind his back, Jobe tried steps one and two again, except he tripped and upended the portable dessert cart, covering me from head to toe in foamy red goodness. When Jobe regained his footing, I giggled with glee as I chased Vincen around the room as he began yelling for his mother. If my mother weren’t afraid of sticky frem monsters, I would have chased Vincen back to the Stellar Knight Academy.

Terrah even got into the act, offering an encouraging, Good show, old man!

This even brought laughter from Vincen, as we saw how silly we were all being. Our note of frivolity announced the arrival of Hiramn. He was still licking a bit of frem off his face as he told everyone, I get more food that way …

Upon seeing his father, Jobe smiled sheepishly as he tried to put together the discombobulated Comet Maker. Hiramn, seeing the fremmy mess all over the floor, quickly helped Jobe to make the machine operational again. Usually a birthday celebration was an excuse to try his mobile Comet Maker. Today, however, Hiramn and Jobe were busy trying to clean up Jobe’s mess. At this moment, Great Uncle Cronos’s perfect timing kicked in. With a grandly dramatic flourish, Cronos burst into the house, declaring, It’s present time!

Terrah, being older by about three minutes, received the first gift and was asked what he would use it for in the coming year. Terrah lifted up his new MTI programmable dictionary and promised that the words of one thousand worlds would grace the blank slate that had, until now, displayed only the Mezarian language. I snickered at Terrah’s answer until I was given a piece of inscription leaf as a present. Before I could complain about Terrah getting a cool gadget, my eyes fell across the words, Stump the AI.

Standing up so abruptly that I almost brought bodily injury to my great uncle, who was standing just behind me, I read much like a herald, "On the seventh day of the first month of the four-thousand ninth year of the universe as we know it, the Mezarian Technical Institute is holding a contest! They call it ‘Stump the AI.’ The grand prize is TBA.

TBA? I asked the giver of the present.

Uncle Cronos looked quizzically at the flyer and translated, To be announced.

Uncle Cronos apologetically promised a better gift for me as he tried to take the flyer back. To his surprise, I snatched the inscription leaf from his hand and snuggled it. I will be victorious, Uncle! Tomorrow, that AI will be mine!

But Ares, MTI doesn’t even know what the grand prize is, Cronos pleaded.

On the contrary, Uncle, I said, nearly like Terrah, they don’t anticipate that anyone will be able to stump the AI. Therefore, they think they won’t have to give away a grand prize.

Brilliant deduction, Uncle! Vincen exclaimed.

Pointing to Vincen as a point of confirmation, I rested my case and politely excused myself, sticky with frem and needing a shower.

2

Aft er the contest, I heard that we had waited in line for about five hours before I had my chance. For me, though, it felt like mere moments. As far as I could remember, I was startled into wakefulness by the room-filling contrivance in front of me. This happens to individuals who try to spend every moment before a contest thinking of the perfect computer-stumping question.

After stretching and yawning a bit, I was escorted quickly to the computer’s auditory reception grid and prompted to ask it a question. Groggily, I pulled out the only question a nonfunctional organism usually can think of when trying to wrestle with the lands of the blissfully sleeping and the evil imperial forces of the annoyingly awake. Are you alive? I know I’m not.

With that, I turned and headed back to the hover chair in which I had apparently been pushed around for the last five hours, found a happy thought, and drifted back into a peaceful sleep. When I felt like taking on awake people again, I blinked away slumber to find a rectangular black box with a note in my mentor’s barely legible scrawl:

Ares, this is your prize for winning the MTI contest. See me in my quarters as soon as possible. Cronos.

Seeing the urgency of the little scrap of inscription leaf, I crumpled it, tossed it into one of the waste conveyance tubes, and ran for my mentor’s quarters. When I arrived, I was nearly intercepted by the Founder’s voice warning, Ares, don’t go in there!

Not knowing how to react to the slumped form at the desk, I ran as fast as I could to the safest place I could think of: my father’s arms. The only problem was, they were usually engaged in deliberation of some kind at the Mezarian Consulate. Problem two, it was ten grids away on foot, maybe three by skimmer. Problem three, the skimmer was locked up in a family security bunker I didn’t know the code to in the recreational ring of the city. It would have been counterproductive to go there anyway, since it was opposite of the direction I wanted to go.

You’re probably thinking, He couldn’t have possibly been this methodical in this time of dire personal crisis. For this assumption, I award you with the medal of Decent Observational Thinking. I indeed did not think clearly at all. The fact of the matter was I ran all ten grids as if I was just crossing the street. I realized I was breathless only when one of the Consulate guards, named Alexandr Tiachree, knelt down and asked about my welfare.

Taking deep, gulping breaths, I managed to spit out, "Great—

uncle—emptied—need—see—Father."

With utmost concern on his face, Alexandr helped me to my feet, and I realized I had just been on my hands and knees. Thanks Alex, I said weakly.

Alexandr smiled reassuringly and led me to one of the lobby hover chairs. Want something to drink? he asked with deep concern.

Though well-meaning and totally committed to his job, there were times when Alex’s grip on the gravity of a situation left much to be desired. In an attempt not to hurt his feelings, I said as calmly as I could, No thank you, I will just take my father. It’s an emergency.

Suddenly piecing together what I had told him, he slid over in front of the hover chair and made a motion with his right hand. Just like that, a panel slid back and a control stick rose to greet my right hand while Alex whispered instructions. It works just like a skimmer.

Grateful for the assistance, I sped off, making all the security officers except Alex wonder how I managed to make a low-powered hover chair go so fast.

When I reached the mag-lift at the center of the building, I landed the chair and raced over to the coded mag-lift capsule activation door. All I would have to do was press the large red lit square, enter, and press the Forum Five floor number to shuttle me up to Father’s waiting arms. New problem: the button flashed restricted access. Staring at the button crossly, I exclaimed, I’ll restricted access you!

Before I could even think of a way to rewire the mag-lift’s capsule door controls, I heard a familiar voice kindly state, That won’t be necessary, Ares. I turned and gave my grandfather the biggest hug I could muster.

You know, Ares, Grandfather said, in the way he always started a story, I remember when Cronos and I always used to have sibling rivalries just because we were brothers. Mother and Father never could figure out what to do with us and our constant bickering. Now I don’t have him to bicker with or about anymore.

My grandfather’s attempts at humor always made me feel better, even if the joke was rather lame. As I remember it, my father had told me Grandfather and Uncle Cronos hadn’t had a cross word since he could remember. In other words, they hadn’t had a falling out for over 430 years.

Without a word, my grandfather pressed the message blinking red button. It turned a solid green, and we were on our way to the floor of the Forum Five. Upon arrival, I was about to ask Grandfather how he did that when a large jet blackish insect thing became yet another barrier to my goal. Marching around it so as to face it, I looked up and demanded an explanation as to why it was blocking my way. An MTI-modified translator device the insulting insect used told me in no uncertain terms that its clicking owner was less than happy at my intrusion.

My intrusion! I exclaimed, feeling the heat in my face. I have an urgent message for my father, and all you can think to do is block my way!

The silvering form of the six-foot-tall insect turned to a pleasant violet as it conceded to all the terms laid forth by the Protectorate Council and the Forum Five. Not taking its unblinking eyes off of me, it strolled nobly forward and inscribed its name on the document that would soon change forever what I thought about Core’s common pest.

As it left the Forum Five council chamber, the enormous insect bowed slightly to me and disappeared into the mag-lift. After it left, my father bolted to his feet and demanded, Ares, how could you do that? That was the Neminn ambassador!

One of Father’s friends pulled him back to his chair and whispered something to him in his ear. This caused Father to relax and giggle slightly, making it easier for me to alter his emotions yet again. Ares, my boy, you just did something that we didn’t think possible! I am so … My father’s words trailed off as he realized that it was his father standing behind me and not his uncle.

The boy saw the emptying Achron. Though the tone of his voice was flat, I knew the emotions I was feeling, Grandfather also was feeling.

After the three of us took in the true scope of Cronos’s emptying, a fourth person joined in our group. Father, beginning with the automatic dignitary welcoming speech, found himself being hushed by the one called the Founder, who stooped to one knee while painfully smiling. Ares, it’s time for you to come live with me now.

I don’t know why I grabbed and hugged the Stellar Knight Academy’s Founder, but I held him as long as the tears flowed.

3

A great eye that was created from looking upward through Crater City’s