Cosmic Genten Read online

  COSMIC GENTEN

  BY GRADY P. BROWN

  Cosmic Genten

  Copyright  2020 by Grady P. Brown

  All rights reserved

  TIMELINE

  1955

  The Space Race begins. Mankind starts developing technology for space travel.

  1957

  Sputnik 1, the first satellite, is launched.

  1961

  Yuri Gagarin becomes the first human to travel into space.

  1969

  Apollo 11 launches. Neil Armstrong becomes the first human to set foot on the moon.

  1975

  The Space Race ends with a United States victory.

  1998

  The International Space Station is launched.

  2026

  Artificial intelligence is created. In fifty years, robots become the most widely used piece of equipment in every household and business.

  2031

  Apollo 34 launches. Laura Kelly becomes the first human to set foot on Mars.

  2035

  Weapon manufacturers develop the so-called “laser gun.” Laser guns become the most popular firearm on the market. Militaries and law enforcement agencies replace all older firearms for laser guns. The age of gunpowder is replaced by the age of plasma.

  2038

  Overpopulation and climate change become critical issues for Earth’s survival. The Second Space Race begins as the world’s governments combine their resources to colonize other planets.

  2052

  Hundreds of new star systems are discovered. Experiments in deep-space travel begin.

  2089

  Terraforming technology is developed. Climate change on Earth is halted. Scientists turn their attention to terraform other worlds.

  2153

  Earth has terraformed and colonized the entire solar system. To celebrate their collective achievements, humanity establishes the Consulate government. The new regime is run by a collection of Consulars from each colonized world, known as the Grand Council. The democratically elected leader of the Grand Council holds the title of High Consular.

  2338

  Folding space technology is developed. Space craft could teleport from one section of space to another. The Pilgrimage movement begins as humans begin colonizing other star systems.

  2340

  The strain of traveling so far from Earth becomes taxing for colonists. They are given nanotechnology vaccines to help them survive during deep-space travel.

  2542

  Long-term side effects to deep-space vaccinations begin to show. Seventy percent of colonists remain human. Twenty percent develop mutations that turn them into humanoid subspecies. These beings are referred to as “aliens.” Ten percent develop psychic powers and are referred to as “sensitives.”

  3208

  Humans, aliens, and sensitives have colonized all known star systems. The Consulate begins to consolidate its power amongst the cosmos. Sensitives are recruited into the law enforcement and military program called the Bushi. With their psychic powers and unmatched combat skills, the Bushi swiftly establish order throughout the Consulate’s territories.

  3519

  A faction of Bushi engage in criminal activity and are removed from office. These Bushi become known as the Ronin. Disappearing into the criminal underworld, the Ronin establish themselves as warlords and gangsters. Under their rule, the crime rate increases.

  3761

  Ronin warlord Lucius Ira and his younger brother, Manus, unite the five Ronin cartels into a single political syndicate known as the Shogunate. Lucius assumes the title of Shogun and develops ambitions to conquer the Consulate.

  3771

  With the support of thirty star systems behind them, the Shogunate declares war on the Consulate. A quarter of Consulate territory is conquered before the Consulate government could react.

  3772

  The Consulate fortifies defenses as a third of its territory is lost. Shogunate intensifies its efforts. Bushi clashing with Ronin results in massive casualties on both sides.

  3789

  Both sides turn their attention to the Spica star system.

  CHAPTER 1

  Alpha Centauri System …

  Kyle sat in his seat while watching the briefing unfold. Surrounding him were his fellow officers watching Admiral Moore discuss tactics for the upcoming battle. The atmosphere in the cavernous chamber was tense as everyone listened to their orders.

  For Kyle, it was an uncomfortable sensation. Not only was he about to engage in another grueling skirmish, but he was reminded of the nature of his injuries. He had shrapnel in his chest, and was forced to wear a life support helmet that encased his scarred head. The thought of fighting sent fresh ripples of discomfort through his flesh. Ignoring his agony, Kyle returned his attention to the briefing.

  “As you are all aware, the Shogunate has their sights on the Spica System. The Spica System is a strategically important region due to having the most central trade outpost in the sector. If the Shogunate takes control of it, our troops in those quadrants will starve, along with the population of the Solar System. The Spica System is a region we can’t afford to lose.

  “Recently, our scouts reported that the Shogunate is amassing an armada a dozen parsecs from Spica’s outskirts. With most of the Consulate navy engaging with the Shogunate across the known galaxy, we are the only fleet able to respond to this threat. Our mission is to intercept that armada before it reaches Spica. Any questions?” When the room was silent, Admiral Moore chewed his cigar and ordered, “Dismissed!”

  Kyle rose to his feet and followed his fellow officers to their designated ships. Outside of the briefing room was the hangar where the Alpha Centauri fleet was waiting. Alpha Centauri’s three suns burned in the sky above. Thousands of personnel, including technicians, gunners, pilots, engineers, and medics boarded their assigned vessels. Each officer coordinated their movements with flawless efficiency.

  In the distance, Kyle saw his own ship, a Tucker-class frigate called the Benfold. Like most Consulate frigates, the Benfold was shaped like a thousand-foot cigar powered by a cluster of four engines. The hull of the ship displayed several scars from multiple battles, giving it an intimidating appearance.

  Grinning behind his helmet, Kyle murmured, “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Captain!” a voice called behind Kyle.

  Kyle turned to see his second-in-command, Commander Greast.

  “Wh-what is it, Commander?” Kyle asked, stumbling over his words.

  Handing Kyle a tablet, Greast replied, “Admiral Moore has assigned us in the rearguard. Due to the … trauma you sustained, he feels you would be more effective in the battle in the back.”

  Scowling, Kyle muttered, “Does he really think I’m that fragile? I’m as eager to fight for the Consulate as he is!”

  “You and me both, sir,” Greast agreed.

  Regaining his composure, Kyle said, “Fine. Orders are orders. Let’s get on board, Commander. Report to the war room and come back with a viable strategy for the coming battle.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Kyle and Greast climbed the Benfold’s boarding ramp, the rest of the fleet was in the process of taking off. Once inside the sleek interior of the Benfold, Kyle continued toward the command bridge, while Greast went the other way. Every so often, a member of his crew greeted him with a salute.

  Eventually, Kyle encountered the ship’s Fish medical officer, Milo. He smiled when he saw Kyle, but his large eyes displayed concern.

  “Good morning, Captain. How are you feeling?” Milo asked.

  “You’re not going to salute me? I am your captain.” Kyle sighed.

  Milo chuckled. “You’re more than my captain. You are also my patient. I lik
e having informal relationships with my patients. How are you feeling? Is that helmet suiting you well?”

  Hesitating, Kyle answered, “The mask is fine, but my chest still hurts from the shrapnel. Are you sure there isn’t something you can do to get it out of me?”

  “That won’t be possible, sir. After that dogfight, your wounds were not properly treated before you were assigned to me. If I do anything else, I could accidentally kill you even if I apply nanites. I don’t want the death of a patient on my conscience. The best I can do is provide some painkiller injections. Luckily, I brought a couple with me. Would you like one? It will relieve your pain for forty-eight hours,” Milo offered.

  “Thank you, Milo.”

  “No problem, sir. Hold out your arm.”

  Kyle rolled up his sleeve and displayed his bare arm. His arm was mechanical up to the elbow, and a dark glove concealed his hand. The flesh of his upper arm showed significant scarring. Milo took out a syringe from his tool belt and injected it into Kyle’s upper arm. Kyle sighed with relief as the drug kicked in. When Milo was done, Kyle pulled down his sleeve.

  “I will need to detox your blood later. Do you still feel phantom limb pain?” Milo asked.

  “Yeah. It stings when it gets cold. Where we’re going, it is going to be a lot colder. Carry on, medic.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kyle and Milo parted ways as Kyle continued toward the command bridge. The chamber was alive with activity, with technicians observing the various systems of the ship. A large windscreen revealed what lay in front of the Benfold. Sitting at the front of the bridge was the pilot Corporal Olaf.

  “What is the ship’s status, Olaf? Are we ready for takeoff?” Kyle asked.

  “We are, Captain. The artificial gravity, life support, shields, and weapon systems are at optimum efficiency.” Olaf nodded, gripping the controls with hidden excitement.

  “Proceed.”

  After pushing a few buttons and pulling several levers, Olaf coaxed the Benfold to life. The entire craft rumbled as it slowly lifted off the ground. The rest of the fleet could be seen through the windscreen, rising toward the stars. Within minutes, the Benfold caught up with the armada and exited Alpha Centauri’s orbit. Like a flock of birds flying together, the one hundred Consulate ships formed an arrowhead formation. At the center of the formation was Admiral Moore’s flagship, the Caldwell. The Caldwell was a Cassin-class dreadnaught that was three times the size of the Tucker-class frigates, and the front resembled the head of a hammerhead shark.

  Suddenly, one by one, the ships vanished in bubble-like flashes of light. When the Benfold was the last ship left, Kyle ordered, “Prepare to fold space.”

  “Folding space,” Olaf said as he pressed more controls on the panel.

  Within an instant, the Benfold was transported to the other side of the sector.

  CHAPTER 2

  Spica Prime …

  The atmosphere was full of fire and smoke as Bralu Pramar hammered a superheated billet on an anvil. His muscles burned as hot as his billet, and his sweat sizzled when it dripped onto his anvil. He was in the process of forging his personal weapon as a Bushi. Next to him, another Bushi cadet, Amber Miller, was forging her blade as well.

  Bralu blushed when he looked at Amber. She was unnaturally beautiful, with a slender yet muscular build, glittering red skin, silky white hair, and shimmering gold eyes. Her beauty was so intense that his heart skipped a beat. After being distracted by Amber’s presence, Bralu returned his attention to his work.

  Utilizing the ore from meteorites, Bralu and Amber were in the process of creating mik alloy weapons. After melting the ore out of the meteorites, the Bushi cadets welded multiple layers of the mik alloy together before cutting them up and forge welding them back together over and over. The method increased the strength and lightness of the weapons but also their sharpness.

  Overseeing their progress was their instructor, a retired Bushi called Owen Gonarri. Owen had the demeanor of a hardened warrior. His right arm was cybernetic up to his elbow, and his blind eyes were concealed by a blindfold. Despite his injuries, Owen stood straight and strong like a man in his prime.

  While his students were creating their weapons, Owen lectured, “You are each doing fine work, Cadets. These are not just weapons of war you are creating. They are extensions of your bodies as well as incarnations of your essence. These are artistic manifestations of your very soul. Each Bushi has their own unique Kiru with its own applications in combat. Some prefer swords, others prefer axes, and a few prefer spears.

  “Never forget, Cadets, unlike our Ronin adversaries, the life of the Bushi is to serve and protect not just the Consulate, but the ideals that the Consulate stands for. Democracy, liberty, and equality. Without those ideals, there is no Consulate, and without the Consulate, there are no Bushi. The Kiru you are making will give you the means to defend those principles and all who believe in them.

  “The Kiru are not flimsy kitchen knives to stab our foes. Why make a weapon with just one layer of steel when you can make one with many? With the usage of Damascus steel, we will wield blades that are lighter, stronger, and sharper than any normal blade. These qualities are reinforced by adding shards of meteorite into the forging process. Thanks to the meteorite elements, a Bushi’s Kiru can even absorb the energy of lasers, which will increase its cutting power.”

  “However, always remember that a Kiru by itself can only accomplish so much. That is where our psychic powers come in. By combining our psychic powers and combat training with our Kiru, our true power is revealed to our enemies. When those attributes are taken into account, a fully trained Bushi must not be taken lightly.”

  Bralu smiled as he listened to his mentor’s lecture. He had been training under Owen for ten years. Owen had given Bralu a sense of purpose when he was confused and frightened as his psychic powers started to manifest. Owen approached Bralu and inspected his handiwork. Even though Owen was physically blind, his clairvoyance allowed him to see his environment without eyes.

  “That is a nostalgic design, Bralu. I see you chose to base your Kiru on a machete. That is a perfect weapon for your form of kenjutsu, the Dragon Style. A perfect balance between speed and strength, as well as offense and defense. Your style has neither strengths nor weaknesses, so a Kiru based on a machete is a perfect counter for that limitation. A wise choice, Cadet,” Owen said approvingly.

  “Thank you, Sensei. I made my billet out of a million layers of mik alloy. I took inspiration from my grandfather’s Kiru machete, which was also made from a million layers. I had the hilt constructed at home, so I am ready to complete my Kiru today,” Bralu explained.

  “Normally, a Bushi’s Kiru would be made from a few hundred layers, or even a few thousand, but I see you have taken an ambitious route by using a million layers. That is good planning on your part,” Owen said sagely.

  “Thank you, Sensei. I am always eager to please you.”

  “You have been working harder than any other cadet I’ve trained. That is admirable, but I advise you to take some time off before you work yourself ragged. I know you want to reach my expectations, but if you push yourself too far, you’ll burn out.”

  “But, Sensei, I can keep training all week if I have to.”

  “I know, but you’ll crash from exhaustion before the week is over. When you are finished with your Kiru, go home and take the week off. Give yourself a chance to cool down and spend time with your family.”

  Bralu sighed. “Yes, Sensei.”

  Owen left Bralu to contemplate his newest assignment. Bralu did not want to leave the dojo. It was the one place he felt most alive. Even so, Bralu continued his work on his Kiru.

  ______

  Later that day, Bralu sat outside the dojo. Surrounding him was the capital city of the Spica Prime, Londinium. The city was a mixture of different architectural styles, and tropical plants wrapped themselves around the walls and roofs of the various buildings. The markets consisted of many shops
that specialized in different forms of art, while space ports accommodated visiting merchants and traders. Enveloping the city was a large force field designed to shield the city from orbital bombardment.

  While the diverse citizens of Londinium went about their business, Bralu looked at his finished Kiru. The machete-like blade was colored gold and had a brass-colored rippling pattern on it that made it look as though it were on fire. The guard and pommel were solid bronze while the hilt was shaped from polished ivory. The scabbard was plan black wood with Bralu’s initials engraved on the side. Overall, the design of the Kiru was pleasing to the eye.

  “I finished my Kiru, yet why do I not feel a sense of accomplishment?” Bralu asked himself as he continued to stare at his creation.

  “Your sense of purpose has evaporated,” a familiar voice answered.

  Bralu turned to find Owen Gonarri taking a seat next to him, his pipe in hand. Owen took a few puffs of smoke as he settled down on the bench.

  “Do you mean to say I have no sense of purpose, Sensei?” Bralu asked.

  “Even though I took you under my wing when your powers manifested, you have been compensating your lack of purpose by nearly working yourself to death. I know what happened ten years ago frightened you, but I don’t want you overworking yourself over it. It will never make the pain go away,” Owen explained.

  “What if I lose control again? I don’t think I can live with myself if I hurt someone. Only by training do I feel like I can prevent that from happening. What should I do now, Sensei? Am I expelled?”

  “If you were expelled, I would not have allowed you to keep your Kiru. This suspension, think of it as a much-needed vacation. You are my most diligent student, but you have indulged yourself so deeply in your training that you have forgotten why you train in the first place. Take some time off away from the dojo and rediscover your sense of purpose. When you believe you are ready, return to your studies. For now, spend some time with your family. I am sure they miss you after spending so much time at the dojo.”