It's
been a long time since I promised The
Maker would
return and I apologize. With one thing and another, it's taken longer
than I anticipated to get it reader ready.
THE
BEGINNING
A
fading sun glimmered listlessly in the cloudless sky, growing dimmer
each cycle. Shakazhan, the near dead planet below limped around the
dying star, knowing no change of seasons. Dreary, gray-brown, scrubby
foliage hung on by sheer tenacity, born of long habit. So these two
had coexisted for millennia, neither giving in to entropy. At least
they had until a year ago when once again, human feet touched the
parched, desolate landscape.
Lost
in the mists of myth and legend, no one had disturbed the planet's
slumber until Wil VanLipsig and his wife, Matilda Dulac, arrived.
They came in pursuit of Wil's son, John Riley, who sought to free the
evil Kahlea Master. John Riley was dead, killed by his father. The
Kahlea perished too, but not until after he had called to his
brothers, begging for revenge. The Kahlea, their great minds as
twisted as their grotesque bodies, once laid waste to Shakazhan.
Their power seemed limitless, until the arrival of the Timokuan.
These fierce warriors faced the Kahlea, driving them back to the
deepest pits of space which spawned them.
Shakazhan
barely survived, its stars destroyed, its sun drained of energy. And
so it sat for millennia, waiting until such time as humanity
returned, ready to rebuild it to its former glory. Now, no longer
silent, Shakazhan is the center of great activity. Wil and Matilda
prepare their small, but courageous force, to combat the encroaching
Kahlea and their minions. Paths are worn in the stunted brown
vegetation, leading from the teleport pads to the entrance of the
planet's only existing structure, The Halls of the Hallowed Dead. The
once dazzling golden arched entrance, flanked by elegant statues of
warriors, glitters dully in the waning sun. It is all that attests to
the glory that was Shakazhan.
Voices
carry on the still air, echoing from the exposed rock face nearby.
Laughter joins speech, creating a cacophony of sound far different
from the clash and thunder of Kahlea war machines of the past. People
live in domed buildings, in the shelter of these massive cliffs,
finding solace in their presence.
Two
great sentient, living ships circle the planet in stately,
geosynchronous orbit, they provide shelter for those who have
traveled so far from home. An elongated teardrop, each is the size of
a large asteroid. A mated pair, Hammer and Anvil, house
humans and the Kindred—an alien race who have sworn to fight the
Kahlea. Highly advanced, the Kindred crew the ships, work as
planet-side technicians and augment the human forces. Their
telepathic powers make them a formidable ally.
The
sun sinks below the horizon. Activity slows, as the humans take off
from work early. It is a day of celebration, a time of peace. By the
reckoning of the human's calendar, it's Christmas Eve.
©
2017 Dellani Oakes
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