Pueblo
de Santa Brio
:
Copán,
Honduras :
January 2197
My name is
Rosalia Chiquita
Hernandez, and I am the first of my village to celebrate my one-hundredth
birthday. It is a milestone, by the standards of any human culture. Of course,
the Kinemats of Sol will live two- or three-hundred years, they tell me. In the
same breath, they also tell me that those who have become Star Travelers are
something beyond human, and something less than gods.
My birthday is bittersweet, to me. It is also the
anniversary of my grandfather’s death. Yaxche, who never liked his Spanish
name, passed away when I turned twenty. Though it has been so long since then,
I remember him and his legacy every day. He passed the care of the Song of the
Stars to me, and bade me guard the ancient scroll. I have grandchildren and
great-grandchildren. Juan, the gentlest of them, wishes to carry on the
tradition when I pass on to Mitnal. That will be soon, I suspect. But not yet.
I have had a very full life, and often I reflect back on my
one-hundred years.
After the Emperor’s defeat on Qin Station, the coalition of
nations retook the solar system within a matter of days. While the alliance
that had formed for that task might have dissolved over time, the return of
Major Justine Turner and Ambassador Michael Sanderson caused an interplanetary
stir; they brought alien emissaries from Gliese to Sol System.
While stories of the Kulsat threat—and the destruction they
could have brought—both thrilled and frightened people everywhere, it was the
offer to become a member of the Galactic Collection that prompted Sol System to
revolutionize its political system, since the Collection would only recognize a
single centralized government from each member system.
The United Earth Corporate was disbanded, and the Solan
Synergy was created. Country corporations and planetary subsidiaries were
replaced with democratic cooperatives, which recognized the authority of the
Synergy.
Kinemetic technology was advanced with cooperation from the
Collection. With cheap space travel and access to the solar system’s resources,
there was a population explosion on the other planets and moons of Sol System.
Even the poorer regions of Earth prospered, not just economically, but in
matters of health and wellness.
It was the beginning of the Fifth World, an era of
prosperity and human progress.
Every year, on my birthday, thousands of people from all
over the solar system—and even a few from other species in the galaxy—make the
pilgrimage to my village. Kinemats and Sentinels, who cannot bear the gravity
of the planet, are present in holoform, servo-assistants projecting their
images and recording the sights and sounds to send back to them in orbit around
Earth.
We host a daylong celebration in honor of my grandfather and
his friends, Sentinel Justine Turner and Ambassador Michael Sanderson, who have
both attended every year. We honor the fallen heroes, George Markowitz, Kenny
Harriman, and all the soldiers who fought and died in the years up until the
Emergence.
In the afternoon, I tell the tale of Subo Ak and the Dying
God, taught to me by the wise Patli, who had no heirs.
At sunset, I recite the Song of the Stars, which was taught
to me by my grandfather, in honor of the Lost Grace, Alex Manez, and the brave
crew of the
Liberty
, who sacrificed themselves by leading the Kulsat armada
away from Sol, and thereby saving our solar system.
This year, however, before I am able to begin the Song of
the Stars, Ambassador Michael Sanderson asks to speak to the crowd before the
final ceremony begins.
He stands before them, and there is much emotion in his wizened
face.
“Friends, citizens of the Solan Synergy, Kinemats and
Sentinels. A few minutes ago, I received word that the star beacon in Heraiea,
the closest system to Kulsat, had activated, the signal originating from Kulsat
System.”
When he says this, there is a collective gasp from those
gathered together. For decades, we were told how unlikely it was for the Kulsat
Risen to attempt to cross such a vast distance. Stories of the Kulsat had
endured, however, and they were considered to be the bogeymen of the galaxy.
Ambassador Sanderson holds up both of his hands to quell the
crowd. “It was not the Kulsat who arrived, however. It was a century-old
warship.” He paused for dramatic effect. “The
Liberty
and its entire
crew have returned to us, alive and healthy after eighty-seven years.”
His last words were drowned out by the resounding cheer from
the crowd. It was only once he had their attention again that the ambassador spoke.
“His Grace, Alex Manez, is among them.
“He is coming home.”
METAMORPHOSIS
…the
end of
The Interstellar Age
Valmore Daniels has lived on the coasts
of the Atlantic, Pacific, and Arctic Oceans, and dozens of points in between.
An insatiable thirst for new
experiences has led him to work in several fields, including legal research,
elderly care, oil & gas administration, web design, government service,
human resources, and retail business management.
His enthusiasm for travel is only
surpassed by his passion for telling tall tales.
Visit
ValmoreDaniels.com
The Interstellar Age
Forbidden the Stars
Music of the Spheres
Worlds Away
Fallen Angels
Angel Fire
Angel’s Breath
Earth Angel
(TBR)
Angel Tears
(TBR)
Angel of Darkness
(TBR)
Visit
ValmoreDaniels.com