Grave Is The Day

CHAPTER 1

Startling, isn’t it. Leaning over his officer’s shoulder, Commander Kraanox stared mesmerized at the console, viewing the intercepted high frequency analog transmissions. The people of this planet referred to it as ‘television’.

His communications officer looked up. What, Commander?

The similarity. All this time we’ve been orbiting in space, the question has plagued me so. The people of this world are roughly the same as those of our home world, Traanu. A little larger, and with hair all over their bodies and a most noticeable thick mass coated on top of their heads, but other than that, at a quick glance they could pass as related. Two arms, two legs, upright posture, ten fingers and ten toes—though they lack the second opposable thumb on each hand we enjoy.

His officer laughed and held his hands up, flexing his second thumbs into a finger position. "It must be hard for them to properly grip things.

Perhaps, but the variance is minimal. Facially, they’re almost identical—more prominent noses, and ears that stick out from their heads, but everything in the right place. He ran his hand over his right ear to push it forward in mock representation. When the high frequency electromagnetic waves led us here, we knew we would find intelligent life, but I bore little expectation they would appear so similar to us. Nature must have a standard plan when evolving intelligent life.

The officer grimaced. Still, there are many differences. Outside of the fact these creatures are mammalian versus the amphibian of our people, there appears to be a huge cultural difference as well. Although areas of the planet are predominated by certain types of humans, they seem willing to intermix. And, most shockingly, interbreed. Such integration of societies is unheard of back home, and interbreeding, heresy!

Kraanox clapped a hand down on the officer’s shoulder. Yes, but they are a lot alike, these people. Aggressive, yes, combative even, as attested to by the current wars they are engaged in across the globe. The world appears dominated by what seems like a large multitude of different countries and religions, each vying for more than they have. Two of these countries seem to dictate the politics of this world, with different philosophies on government. What are they again?

Communism and democracy, sir.

Yes, that’s them. Personally, I can see little difference. In each case, power rests in the control of a select few, no different than the governments of Traanu, back home. Our ideologies are not as fractured, there being only eight different countries and the same number of religions and people.

Commander Kraanox pondered these things as he roamed the bridge of his ship, the Flower, visiting with his officers. Not as roomy as some of the others in the fleet, with barely enough room for him to pass between the different stations. But this was his first command. He took pride in each and every part of it, from the polished obsidian floors, to the illuminated ceiling with light to match that of his home world sun. And each crew member, despite his presence, was diligent in their duties; from navigation to tactical, communications to science.

The main focus of his mission from his homeland of Braannoo involved the search for alien technology. And, after all this time in space circling this planet, he found the people of this world lacked the necessary scientific advancements to help his people, with only one exception.

He grew angry as he stood there, considering the first alien civilization they discovered. Yes, their journeys indeed found life elsewhere, but no intelligence. The goal here should be one of first contact. But orders were orders. The war at home continued to go badly, and money could not be spared for purely scientific missions. Nowadays, everything required a military application or it received no funding.

The only discoveries suited to their needs were the atomic weapons these aliens possessed. But the technology to build such devices was useless, since Traanu was all but devoid of the metals uranium and plutonium.

Nevertheless, they worked tirelessly to obtain the knowledge. In his heart, he knew himself a patriot, and with military training as well, but the scientist in him wanted to discover, to explore, and to delve into the unknown. Sneaking to the surface in an effort to purloin technology ran contrary to his mindset. Why not just set down in the middle of all those people and openly trade with them?

Besides, with nothing of real value militarily, perhaps it might be right to break with protocol. The number of times they’d been spotted in their late-night sorties showed reason enough to admit they existed to these people. He chuckled to himself at the antics some of the locals went through upon seeing his ship cruise through their area.

Yes, these people had much to offer in the way of trade, metal for one. Only recently did Traanusians bore deeply enough into their planet to recover reasonable quantities of the stuff. The cost of mining proved to be so high the value made using it in day-to-day life unrealistic. Unlike the people below, where every day common items were made from products like steel or nickel and discarded easily.

Commander Kraanox sighed. As much as his heart told him what to do, the reasoned objectivity of his mission took precedence. If he made first contact, he would be in breach of orders and face a court martial back home. The mines in the penal system were not the kind of retirement he planned for. Though, given his family heritage, such a penalty would be unlikely for him. More likely, he would lose his post and be consigned to a desk in the royal offices.

He made his way to the captain’s chair, elevated in the center of the bridge. It allowed him to rotate and see each station with ease. Microgravity gave the impression of more hopping than walking, but as their tenure in orbit approached three months, he proved an old hand at it. He took comfort in the daily regimen that kept him fit. It allowed him the ease of mobility where his actions bespoke of fluidity versus awkwardness. When he took his station, his helmsman, the first officer, acknowledged his presence with a nod.

He acknowledged the nod with one of his own. Anything to report?

The first officer turned to face him. The man was a standard example of his people. Deep blue eyes set in a clear, almond-toned face. Smooth skinned, with no markings. His ears lay very flat against the sides of his head. His nose also lay very flat across his face. His eyebrows featured darker-toned ridges of skin stretched across a slight protrusion in the bone structure of his skull. They were designed to channel water away from eyes that, every now and then, would blink an inner set of transparent eyelids, maintaining the level of moisture his eyes required. Nothing we haven’t heard before, Commander. Those coded transmissions offer little for us to learn.

Raising his hand to scratch at the side of his head, he applied pressure from both thumbs in a gentle massaging of his scalp. Stretching his other hand across his jaw in musing, he allowed the webbing between his fingers to pull against his chin as he contemplated the mission to date. A decision needed to be made—whether to remain here or set out for home. It’s time to wrap up this mission everyone. Complete whatever you’re working on. When I get a status that all reports are in, I am going to take the Flower home.

Feeling melancholy, he set off for the shower unit. His skin felt dry, and he needed to moisturize—the heavens knew he missed a good swim. Working his way through the narrow corridors of the ship, he found himself among the crew’s quarters when the sirens began. Alert! Alert! Commander Kraanox to the bridge!

Turning around, he made his way as quickly as possible back to the bridge. With a few precision micro-gravity leaps, he covered the distance in less than half the time it would normally take to pull himself forward. What’s happening?

His tactical officer spun in his chair to face him. Commander, another ship just entered orbit. We picked up its signature and scanned it. We aren’t positive, but we believe it to be a Muurgu ship! And it is twice our size and heavily armored. How did they find us?

Kraanox leaned over the console to examine the readouts for himself. There could be no doubt. The configuration exactly matched reports of Muurgu spacecraft. This cruiser class attack ship would make short work of the Flower, his own frigate. Heaven’s curse! Of all things to encounter, a spaceship from the very country we’re currently at war with. Quick, plot an immediate withdrawal from here. Let’s get going home before they spot us.

The helmsman pointed to the tactical display on his screen. I don’t think that’s possible, Commander. They appear headed straight for us, and with their current speed we will never be able to accelerate quickly enough to elude them.

Kraanox examined the trajectory plotting on the monitor showing the route planned. With the acceleration factored in by the helmsman, he knew it would not be quick enough to escape the incoming enemy ship. He recognized there could be no option left but to fight. His ship was poorly armored, with limited fighting capability. There would be no contest.

Commander Kraanox stood as tall as he could and faced his staff. Bravado was what was needed. Break out the weapons, everyone. I doubt they intend to board us, but if they do, we’ll give them a taste of Braannoo courage.

The men began to hustle around in preparation for the coming battle. The crewmembers donned space suits in case the ship lost compression. It all seemed so meaningless. Should they survive this battle but their ship be breached, they would die anyway.

He did not believe in coincidence. Someone back home was a traitor, and he did not believe he would live to find out whom.

CHAPTER 2

Seven-year-old Justin Spencer knew it was way past his bedtime. After he went to bed and his parents gone downstairs, he climbed out on the roof of the porch that stood immediately below his bedroom window. Staring up at the night sky, Justin scanned the heavens. He remembered how his teacher at school told the class the Russians launched a satellite called Sputnik, and you could see it when it passed overhead. The other kids were saying the Russians were spying on them, but Justin didn’t care. Let the Russians look. He didn’t have anything to hide, and he was wearing his pajamas.

They couldn’t see through those, could they?

He just wanted to see the satellite when it passed by.

Downstairs, his parents were watching President Eisenhower on television, talking about the Sputnik satellite. The windows were open and Justin could hear bits and pieces as he stared at the sky.

…no additional threat to the United States…from what the Soviets say, they have put one small ball in the air…no one ever suggested to me . . . a race except, of course, more than once we would say, well, there is going to be a great psychological advantage in world politics to putting the thing up, but . . . in view of the real scientific character of our development, there didn't seem to be a reason for just trying to grow hysterical about it…to the limit of my ability . . . and that is all I can do.

He heard his father ranting about the President being incompetent and a few other things he didn’t understand.

Having brought his pillow with him, Justin settled down to lie on his back, looking up. The clear night sky filled his vision, not a cloud in sight. The moon shone brilliantly and the stars glittered like so many Christmas tree lights. It appeared to be a perfect night to spot the Sputnik satellite when it passed overhead. Folding his arms behind his head, he settled himself to wait.

Justin strained his eyes. Maybe he just needed to look a little harder. Almost two hours passed, and Justin began to nod. Gee, maybe I better get back in bed.

As he rose, he gave one last quick, sweeping gaze across the heavens, and noticed a red flicker in the sky.

Justin stopped to rub his eyes. Looking again, he momentarily lost where he’d marked the spot in the sky, and panicked.

Where was it? There!

The red glimmer caught his eye again. He watched intently as it seemed to swell and change to a teardrop. It appeared to be headed directly toward him as it grew in size.

The Sputnik was on fire and about to crash into his house!

Mesmerized, he couldn’t move as he watched the red tear flame its way down. But rather than hit his house, it fell into the woods a short distance away, just past the city limits. He jumped at the loud boom it made as it crashed. Forgetting he was supposed to be in bed, he scrambled back into the house and raced down to the living room, where his parents were still arguing. With the television blaring in the background and voices raised, Justin figured they didn’t hear the noise. Mom! Dad! Ya gotta come see! The Sputnik just went down in the woods outside of town!

Justin raced up to his parents and tugged at their hands. Come on, come on! Ya gotta see it now, while it’s still burning!

His parents stood and followed, although it seemed he needed to tug really hard. His father was complaining about the disturbance, but Justin wasn’t really listening. They all stepped out onto the porch, and he pointed in the direction of the forest. Their home was the closest one to it, so no other homes blocked their line of sight. Over there! It fell over there! I saw it fall, right into the forest. It was all on fire!

The three of them peered into the night, but there was no fire burning, nothing at all appeared visible, save the outline of the woods in the dark. His father bent down to turn him around and look him straight in the eyes. Justin, what are you doing up? You must have been dreaming, boy. You probably heard your mother and me talking about the Sputnik when we were in the living room. You need to get back in bed, young man.

Justin twisted in his father’s grip. No, Dad! I saw it. I did! I was out on the veranda roof, looking for it in the sky, and I saw it fall!

His father stood up. And what, pray tell, were you doing out on the veranda roof when you were supposed to be in bed?

Justin realized his secret was out. He kept his voice quieter as he stared down at the floor. The kids at school told me that the Sputnik would fly overhead, and I wanted to see it, that’s all.

His mother knelt down to pick him up. Justin, you know that you are not supposed to climb out on that roof, and in your pajamas, no less! You could have fallen and killed yourself. Then what would you do! She fussed about to see if there were any rips or stains. What probably happened was you fell asleep out there and dreamed it. Now let’s get my little man back to bed.

Justin put a pout on his small face. But I did see it, Mom, I did.

Smiling now, his mom continued on into the house and up the stairs. Yes honey, I believe you think you did. Now let’s get you to bed and no more talk tonight of Sputniks.

His mother gently laid him on his bed and pulled the covers up over him. She bent down and kissed him on the forehead. Now, go to sleep, and be a good little dear.

Justin gave one last protest and finally resigned himself to his fate. As his parents left the room, he said quietly, one last time, I did see it, then snuggled down into his pillow.

CHAPTER 3

Managing to pull himself up to a tree, Commander Kraanox examined his bleeding. All the cuts were superficial, but there could be no doubt, there were other injuries his eyes could not detect. His insides hurt tremendously, probably from a cracked rib or two. He only hoped none of his internal organs suffered any serious damage.

Scant yards away, the wreckage of his ship lay steaming in a mangled heap. The plummet through the atmosphere had super-heated the exterior, and he could still feel the heat radiating from it. At rest, it was cooling quickly. Landing in a forest pond helped. How he managed to survive, he still did not know. A stroke of luck, he guessed.

After blowing a hole through his ship, the attackers attempted to board the Flower. Once they managed to attach their trans-variant outer space bridge to his ship, Kraanox played his last card. Though his interstellar drive was disabled, he still retained his positioning thrusters, and fired his engines to kick the Flower into a death spiral toward the planet, dragging the enemy ship with him. Unfortunately, the ploy failed, the Muurgu were able to disengage, and Kraanox descended with a severely damaged ship.

Taking the controls, he angled the craft back and forth to prevent as much drag on the ship as possible since the hole punched by the enemy ship compromised the integrity of the hull. He couldn’t prevent the onrushing air at the steep angle from trying to shake the ship apart. The intense atmospheric friction engulfed the ship in flames, the surrounding gases igniting upon contact. Blinded, and with little control available, he held on, belted to his chair, as the ship plummeted to its doom.

The hull breach saved him in the end. Spiraling, the onrushing air caught at the damage and ripped the ship in half only moments before impact. As if on a hinge, the forward cabin flapped backward and bounced off the tail of the vessel. The bounce took tremendous velocity off the cabin, and sensing a chance, he fired all the steering jets, and those that yet remained were enough to redirect him into a somewhat horizontal trajectory with the ground. It was sheer chance he didn’t follow the rest of the ship as it smashed into the ground below. The cabin careened through dense vegetation that further slowed the ship’s speed. For over a quarter mile, branches banged away at the hull, until at last, what remained of the ship, hit a massive tree, somersaulted in the air, and landed hard in the pond.

The decision to don space suits made a big difference. Giving them the ability to breathe through the descent, they withstood the superheating as well, and, as a last measure, provided some protection on final impact. Regardless of this, Kraanox suffered from severe injuries, including the possibility of some broken bones. Three other crewmates survived, though none in any better shape than him, and one remained unconscious.

The first order of business is always survival. Yes, the Flower is gone, we are marooned on a distant world, and we are without food, water or shelter. But we have our lives. Something the Muurgu did their best to deprive us of.

The initial effects of the crash wore off, and Kraanox began to regain his equilibrium. Sadly, the hurts upon his body became more acutely evident as he made an attempt to stand up straight. A moment of nausea passed, and his vision cleared. He stood in a thicket of trees, small and coarse compared to those of his home planet, but shelter nevertheless, for now anyway. Doing a quick perimeter search, he noted the forest spread in all directions, but appeared to thin quickly to his right. From beyond the edge of the tree line, he could make out lights, indicating civilization.

Once his surviving crew was gathered, he huddled near them. Stay here until I get back. Don’t touch the water in that pond. It appears to be so choked with algae as to be undrinkable. I saw lights some distance away, and I’m guessing there are human homes nearby. Maybe I can get some fresh water there.

He got up and moved through the forest. When he reached the edge, he found his suspicions confirmed as human houses stretched in a line away from him.

Stealing into the yard of the nearest home, he spied a garden hose on the ground. Having seen these in use in the television broadcasts they intercepted, he immediately went to the end to get a drink of water. He held it up, but nothing came out. Disappointed, he followed the hose to where it connected to the