The Troyuan Chronicles...Book 1

THE TROYUAN CHRONICLES…BOOK ONE.

By Ernest Velon

Smashwords Edition, License Notes.

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Copyright  c  2000 by Ernest Velon

Discover other titles by Ernest Velon at www.smashwords.com.

Revised by the Author on 06/2015

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

THE HAZTLOCHIAN AFFAIR

THE GLORIAL PARK AFFAIR

THE KUDOR THOR AFFAIR

THE_PRAXIS_AFFAIR

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

FOREWORD

We look back at those 'classical' times with envy and feel a subconscious backlash saying, What has happened?  My wife, who has her own revelations of those wonderful fresh times, exclaims, Where did we go astray?  Like two parents, whose failed children have been jailed, we both give a depressed sigh.  Well, all we can do is speculate as to what went wrong as we chart our course through this labyrinth of the Imperial Archives.  And, it is here, amongst the decaying infrastructure of our Imperium and our dreams I found the cache of crystalline discs.

We are doing research on various lost ministries, pooling our talents in presenting a special document to the Supreme Curlator, when we stumbled onto the Special Services.  These files covered their activities over seven thousand years UC, and it is the personal diary of one called 'T.A.', located in a hidden sub-directory, that peaked my curiosity.  After a proper transfer to our format, the life and times of Alack Troyus came alive.  Such a remarkable young man, fighting the evils of such a brave new Empire, a true hero we of today only dream about in our childish apprehensions.

Afterwards we tried to find where Seminia is.  If any of his race survived the eons there might be a fragment, a tidbit on the Bio-Net, but to no avail.  The hundreds of centuries since have not been kind to his world.  The incursions of hoards of aliens have obliterated all traces of the old Seminia and his House of Apollinar.  Even the chief religious Goddess has been long forgotten!

And so it is today.

The passage of time is as relentless as the weather.  The constant beating of the elements, wither mountains into hills, rocks into powder and mighty Empires to naked frightened children cowling at every advancing shadow.

But here, by the exposure of the distant past, we can re-live the vitality of those youthful times when all creation was a playing field, when we are bold, daring and not afraid of the darkness.  When we ran recklessly forward to confront the challenge and, like Alack, to build the future.  But, like some approaching thunderstorm, which blackens the sky, giving us a darkened disordered landscape, we behold an eternity of dreary days.  The crying voices whisper in the wailing wind, circling amongst fallen pediments, and seeking a home but finding only ruble.  Woe to you all in this far time, woe to the decay that sucks your blood and leaves only the dry idleness of the aged, so the weight of exhausted limbs will forever keep you down!

Hearing this creeping truth we embrace another, turning away from our work, knowing eventually all we will have left is the stillness of the grave.

Ernest Velon

Larentia.  7/25/9814 UC

THE HAZTLOCHIAN AFFAIR

By Ernest Velon

'I cursed that old man!  I screamed inside as I felt my life force seeping away.  He caused this to happen by teaming me up with her, he brought me to this!  The father I never had, the career I struggled to achieve, is ending with the spreading of my blood over my shirt.  I curse you!  My Mentor, you did this to me!  Like some poorly made videofon, the last two weeks unravel in clarity as I sink to my death.  Matriand, delay this!  My life’s thread is to short too be cut so soon.  Why did you bring her to my place, why?'

The young lady in her early twenties, fidgeted in the back seat of the speeding Zo car.  With reddish hair cut short, hung slightly down under her navy blue Service hat; watched the clouds go by as the Chauffer glided the air vehicle through the greenish azure sky's of Amazia.  Her reflection in the pressurized tinted window, colored her heavy blue uniform with first year stripes a turquoise with a splash of gold.  Light green eyes watched the sparkling ocean as blotches of heavy brown islands passed below; all with a laziness she never felt before.

Marla Fulvia, fought to contain her anxiety as she waited for her first assignment to begin.  Passing all the mental rigors, physical tests of the Special Service Academy, consuming three years of her life, she achieved high honors, fifth in a class of forty.

Take these headings...  T.A. downloaded the location to the Driver's navi-comp.  We should catch him running, he does that in the morning.  He'll be surprised to see us, we aren’t expected until tomorrow.  T.A., Director General of the Amazian Special Services, grinned. Catching Agent Alack Troyus off guard always delighted him.

How much does he know about this, Sir?

As much as I desire to tell him.  T.A. chuckled.

Uh…the reports I've read, he always works alone, Marla felt uncomfortable.  Will he give me a hard time?

The real question, will YOU give him a hard time?  Another round of irritating chuckles, Spinaza once said, 'it is what a person gives that determines their true quality.'   You'll find him very...different.  Working with him will be your first major challenge.  T.A. chuckled at her surprised expression.

The Zo car started its descent.  The rippling sparkles over the Bay of Kensington became shadowed by a grayish golden landmass as the car banked inland.  Blowers blew as the cabin pressure is neutralized.  A slight vibration is felt as they sliced the density of the surface air.

Front and bottom thrusters fired briefly as the sleek black Zo car landed softly on the apron of sandy tiles.  The doors swung up, three stepped out, the Driver waiting by the vehicle.  Silently, both T.A. and Marla walked down to the one story rustic ranch house.

Where you landed he's not going to see he has visitors.

That's the idea, Young Lady.  Opening the wooden door slowly, T.A. touched his lips.  First lesson, don’t touch anything.  You may look but don't move a thing.  He doesn't like that.

Entering a very pleasant clean living room, mahogany floor panels creaked under foot and covered by heavy rugs of single dark colors.  Rustic furniture, made of simple wood and stone, is covered sparsely with fabrics.  A sofa, some chairs, styled 'barnyard' with lamps and a coffee table with minerals under glass.  Walls of knotted wood and natural bricks hold shelves with hundreds of boxes of information disks.  A few book cases in glass and dockets for scrolls, all around a large desk and televisior setup.

Various shelves contain artifacts from the many places He visited.  Pictures covered the walls, family of a farmyard setting.  One secluded section near a large cupboard with floor mates, held the Amazian flag and the Seminian planetary colors flanking.

Don’t tread, he prays there.  T.A. navigated the parlor and into the kitchen.  Amongst the cupboards and cooking stove, he exhaled with relief.  You've never been through a mind field?  Marla nodded no, Congratulations, you passed the first test.  Removing his double lapelled gray pinstriped suit coat he began cooking.  Second lesson, when you enter the house of a Seminian you must bring something to eat.  Hand me that frozen Mugwomp from the freezer, please.

As T.A. whipped up a huge meal, Marla bored, stepped into the parlor.  Wanting to know more about her partner, she studied the various trinkets and knickknacks about.  'He likes ancient cultures.'  Picked up a piece of Norumian frieze in stone sniffed it and put it back.  'He has some taste in literature...' she removed a book flipping through the outdated pages, 'his friends say he’s an antique.'  Satisfied, returned to the kitchen.

T.A. has the table set for three and a wonderful smell coming from the gas oven.  He hates micro-waved food.  It must be cooked with a flame.

This Alack lives in the past.  Does he have a problem dealing with modern society?  Marla glanced at a clock with hands.

With Troyus, it’s a question of comfort than social styles.  T.A. removed the silly apron and put his coat back on.  This environment, a touch of Seminia, a view of the past, his interests, the simplicity and security of this house, the man’s at peace.  The roof is solid Morganite, a mineral that blocks subatomic rays and all EM emissions.  The windows change polarity with the rising and setting of the Ring.  The entire house is self sufficient in power and recycling.  Alack is well equipped to deal with modern society.  The question is, is modern society ready to deal with him?

But Sir, aren't Seminians kind of recluses.  They don't leave their home world, and the ones that do, aren't they treated like castaways?  T.A. paused, Marla's attention is drawn to a picture of him in green fishing gear and a very muscular handsome youth in red shorts, both proudly displaying an aquatic animal resembling a dolphin.  Is that YOU!

I told him never to hang that.  Sitting down, T.A. checked his finger watch muttering. Any time now...  Answered her, Yes, but, Alack is different.  When I first met him he was highly recommended by the Service Captain of Seminia, who felt he had the 'stats' for the Service.  So, there stood this 144 Illo (six feet) youth, in a horribly outdated suit, which, if he moved the wrong way, would tear in a dozen places.  He just arrived, spoke poor Amazian and knew nothing about our society.  At that time he had a bad phobia with people.

Someone that good looking doesn't socialize?

You'll find that out.  As for the Academy, he passed all tests and physical rigors with the highest honors, all except one.

Marla sat down in the seat near the kitchen window.

Don't sit there, he likes the Ring light.  She sprang up and took the seat a crossed from T.A.  His metabolism is remarkable, putting even the Kalousians to shame.  He can do things physically no one else can.  He has a strong psychic sense, we rate him at a PS-Four, very powerful and can even cause a Transvaal to do somersaults.  His mind retains things in detail and depth, has a deductive reasoning trait that's uncanny.

Sounds like a superman.  What test could he have possibly failed?

It’s been difficult with him in the beginning.  But once he caught on, gained some experience, learned how to filter out interference, he is one of the finest agents I have.

What they say about you is true, you don’t answer questions, Sir.

Well, let’s say...  T.A. stood and began serving the hot delicious food.  His stomach is his worst enemy…and I do, people don’t know how to listen.

There is the sound of tired feet on sand, then up a wooden walk.  The kitchen door swung open and there stood a giant of a youth.  158 Illos (almost seven feet) tall, with black to dark brown sweaty hair curling down to his neck, a big pair of brown inquisitive eyes in a face between a boy's and the chiseled features of a man.  The physique spectacular, very muscular but not gross, proportion perfectly balanced.  No body hair as he stood in his red running shorts, a sculptor would have a field day with this model.

Alack m'boy, good to see you, T.A. guided him to his seat.  This is Special Agent Marla Fulvia.

Embarrassed totally, Alack flashed a bright smile and waved his fingers at her, hesitating.  Smelling something overwhelming, Thank you, came a delighted mumble.  Sitting, he ate with a terrifying gusto that horrified Marla.

I suppose you deserve an explanation but, as for now, enjoy the Emperor's largesse.  Agent Marla Fulvia, for her first assignment, will be working with you.  Almost choking, coming up for air, Alack nodded, and continued stuffing himself.  She can learn the most from the best, and this Affair is rather simple, easy to handle.  Besides, what happened on Tartarus, I think you can handle a companion.

Alack eyed Marla with a full stuffed mouth.

She quickly removed her hat by his plate before he ate that too.

I'm sure you've heard of the late Senator Haztlochon from the Regent of Byteria.  Well, as you know the Senitium doesn't like to announce the natural death of their kind until a few days later.  This is done so any mud is quickly washed away, everything is nice and squeaky clean.  Well, Haztlochon died on the 35th from natural causes of this Agel.  On the 38th in the morning, his death is announced by Senatorial decree.  An hour later he's walking around his hometown shaking hands, talking to friends and buying stuff.  Alack's chewing stopped, squinting suspiciously.  That's exactly the way I reacted, but without all that stuff hanging from my mouth.

Marla cut in, Didn't anyone notice?

His town is small, the people won't check the news until the evening, but the town's Service Prefect did his job recording the testimony of dozens of locals Haztlochon had physical contact with.  Right now, the town of Adon is all upside down.  They don't know what to think.  Both of your jobs are to find out what the hell happened?  Who or What were those people talking to?

Cutting T.A. off with a loud burp, Alack placed both massive hands on the table taking a moment to breath through his mouth.  Thank you.  And excused himself politely disappearing into his room too shower and dress.

Is that normal?  He didn't hear a word you said.

T.A. began collecting the plates, which are licked clean.  On the contrary, he heard everything in detail.  You wait and see.  As for his stomach he can eat almost anything in any quantity and gain not an Illo of fat.  So much for his freakish gastronome, wipe that table off. and tossed her a wet dishrag.

Fifteen minutes later Alack invited them into his parlor.  Dressed in long black pants, white socks, a white short-sleeved polo shirt, hair perfectly groomed, parted in the middle over his forehead, hanging down to his collar.  Heavy dark eyebrows slightly bent, those big brown eyes studied Marla.  Making a decision, seemed to relax, a little dimple in his round chin pronounced as heavy lips parted giving her a very warm enchanting smile.

It'll be a pleasure to work with you, Agent Marla.  Alack offered a small wooden bowl holding a variety of Amazian nuts.  I'll need a very detailed profile on Senator Haztlochon, every shred and item you can find.  Just what you told me is impossible.  You are sure about the accuracy of his death, date and time?

I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.

And all testimony of the witnesses, Service Guard records...  Alack paused, frowned and stepped over to an end table.  The piece of Norumian frieze he moved slightly to the right, then nodded and continued.  Plus anything else pertaining to the Senator's home town, such as legends, history... pausing again his eyes caught the bookshelves.  Removing a book, Alack replaced it the right way.

You’re losing your touch, Alack m’boy, use to take you under a minute.  T.A. glanced at his finger watch and chuckled.

…and previous legislators.  Right now I can't get a picture of this until there's more info.

Let’s start in his home town.  Said Marla quietly.

I agree. I want to see the place.

The town of Adon is a very old seaport.

Yes, in the Pre-Evil Times the Republic of Ohm used it as their southern base, there's extensive ruins and forts.  The famous pirate Wezerfin had his base there before Ohm captured the town.  We can be from S.P. & P. Imports doing historical research on the fortifications.

I know a Think Tank Director we can use as a reference.

Well, chuckled T.A. standing, facing the two, I can see we have a match made in heaven.  Waste is always popular until the bill has to be paid.  You both have your orders.

The old town of Adon is where they began.  Because of extensive ruins the modern town was moved outside the archaeological sight.  Despite the rise in sea levels since the 1220’s, the uncovering of antiquities continued.  The archaeological dig, still under excavations, attracts tourists and artists from hundreds of Sectals (miles) around. Hotels, vacation resorts, shops, stores and low-tech industries made the sleepy little town of Adon very popular.

Checking into the local hotel Alack and Marla took separate rooms.  She donned a fancy sweat suit in blue shades and walking shoes with a black stripe around the heel.  Her red hair bowed in a bun, sporting Ring glasses that polarized the light, she is comfortable, fashion wise and ready to begin.

Alack, in black pants, black knee boots, a tight white short sleeved shirt, carried his Calcomp strapped over his broad shoulder.  Hair combed meticulously, each follicle in its proper place, parted in the middle, down over his forehead and curling to his collar, looked to conventional for Marla's tastes.

You should be up on the fashions, that doesn't look scholarly.

This is what I like to wear, I don't care about the fashions.

They went to the Service Guard Praetorium in the town's square and the Service Prefect, both examining the original reports.  After gathering more information began tracking down the people who talked to Senator Haztlochon.  Both separated to cover the twenty individuals on their hit list.  These people are merchants, tellers and service sector employees.  Questions pertaining to the town, the local history, various sights, eateries, each casual conversation the Senator's name came up, a question asked, then to another person.  Same subjects, a different question about the Senator and so on.

By middle afternoon, Alack and Marla sat down in the central park on a shady bench to compile their research.  After sharing another’s info, the Service reports are confirmed, the people honest, nothing suspicious, the Senator did some shopping and left.  The only thing disappointing to Alack Marla did not make a mental note to what the Senator bought.

But that's not important.

In an investigation every thing is a clue, no matter how large or how small.  I’ll retrace your steps and find out what his purchases were.  Alack stood up.  It’s time to eat.

But I'm not hungry...

I am!  And he headed to the nearest diner.  I live to eat…

After the second helping Marla had to leave.

Remembering his criticism she tried to recall what the Senator purchased from the various shops.  The merchant did mention it, but at a hardware store something strange said about the Senator, something about the vehicle the Senator got into, something like that.

Alack approached from the diner.  She still cannot believe he does not gain an ounce of weight, no bloated belly, nothing like that; his physique is so perfect.

Remind me to go too the hotel's credit machine, this place is awfully expensive.

Alack, let's go back to Jordell's Hardware.  What you said about the purchases, there's a little girl you should question.  What she said didn't sound right.

Walking to the other side of the town square, Alack went into the store while Marla waited under the shade of a tree.  Minutes later he joined her, the evasive questioning is successful.  Alack’s face has that funny smile where the ends of his mouth are up.

Very good, Agent Marla, come…  Following around back where the store has a few sheds, the town ends abruptly replaced by soil and shrubs.  Your little girl said the Senator got into a very strange looking vehicle parked back here.  He forgot the ratchet driver and she went after him, but he had driven away into the fields.

Don't you mean took off over the fields?

No, drove away into the fields.  Scurrying around, Alack studied the earth, the clumps of crab grass and bushes.  He stopped, waving her over.  Here... Pointed too four straight lines, with funny groves in the dirt, going away into the rolling fields.  Wheels... he muttered squatting, The vehicle had wheels.  These marks are made by tires.

Nobody rides around in vehicles with wheels, unless you’re a small child or...or an antique collector.  Marla gasped.  I just remembered a news item.  An old electric car was stolen from Pepom City Museum last week, part of the Falakon collection from the Pre-Evil times, before the Conquest.  Do you think...?

First, let's follow these tracks.

Because of his long legs she had to trot to keep up with him.  Alack quick stepped following the trail.  When the dirt ended, replaced by rolling hills with knee high grass, his keen eyesight easily saw the broken blades.  Eventually they came to a hilltop, about two Sectals (over a mile and a half) from the town.  Stopping, Alack looked back, then forward to what appeared to be an old corrugated shed.

Looking up into the sky, then back at the gray and red roof tiles of the tiny town, muttered.  Of course, the distance is about right.

What?  I’ve got sand in my shoes.

The distance from the town...  He descended towards the rusting shed.  If I wanted to leave without detection from Adon's flight grids, I would hide a Zo about where that shed is.

You mean he didn't want to be picked up by the global tracking system?  She had to run after him.

"Exactly!  Every city on Amazia is broken down in grids for navigation purposes.  If I wanted to go from my house to the Capital Area, I just punch in the name, the car's computer