Key to the Stars
Volume One of The Fourth Dimension
by
Kevin Domenic
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PUBLISHED BY:
The Fourth Dimension: Key to the Stars
Copyright © 2010 by Kevin Domenic
Cover Art: Philip Kurniawan
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Key to the Stars
Volume One of The Fourth Dimension
Prologue
A noble man is a dead man.
That was the philosophy of Kindel Thorus. It was an ideology ingrained into every fiber of his being. Men who followed the antiquated notions of chivalry and honor were relics of history, legends long since faded from a universe that no longer respected nor needed them. The rules had changed. Society had changed. Men had changed.
Life had changed.
Lieutenant Petreit removed a glove and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. It wasn't often that members of his team were required to participate in manual labor, but this particular assignment wasn't a routine galaxy patrol or pirate raid. It was an excavation, a rare opportunity for him to shine. New discoveries were always exciting; the wealth of knowledge to be obtained from the artifacts of distant worlds and ancient races was unfathomable. It was a personal interest that Petreit shared with Kindel. The admiral's personal collection of archeological finds was said to be quite impressive.
But this mission came with a catch. The kyrosen, an old adversary, had settled on the planet years earlier. Kindel's men had driven them to the brink of extinction, and though they'd suffered heavy losses, the kyrosen were known for their resiliency. There was little doubt that they'd used their time on the surface to recover and rebuild. It was unlikely they were in any position to stand against the Armada in battle, but an excavation team of unarmed researchers and scientists would be easy prey.
The thick heat of the desert began to dissipate as the crimson sun disappeared below the horizon. Shuttles would arrive before long, signaling the end of the day. It had been a number of weeks since the operation began. Only by the grace of the Maker had the dig remained undiscovered. Studies of the landscape in the days leading up to the assignment suggested that the kyrosen had taken refuge in underground caves and dens. Their precise location and the frequency in which they surfaced would ultimately determine whether or not the Vezulian team would be found.
Petreit shook his head as he pulled the glove back onto his hand. It wasn't as though the Armada was without a full complement of combat soldiers. It would've been nice to see a few of them patrolling the area. But inquiries to Commander Andorel had been met with stiff reprimands. Petreit was told in no uncertain terms to do his job and let the admiral decide when and where to deploy his own troops. He wasn't about to argue. If Thorus felt that soldiers could not be spared for an excavation mission, the men had to trust that it was the right decision.
Kindel never failed to sacrifice for the greater good. He came from a race of warriors known as zo'rhan, some of the most powerful sorcerers in the known universe. Maintaining order and civility across the stars was his sole focus and the single most important directive of the Vezulian Armada. Separating his organization from the other self-proclaimed peacekeepers was the will to do whatever was necessary to secure that order. It was sometimes seen as villainous and immoral, but it was that very perspective that kept the Armada ahead of the pack. Security could not be preserved with kind words; the wicked were never quick to retreat. The enemy would spare no tactic in battle, and neither would the Armada.
As a result, Kindel had developed more than a few enemies over the years. Nations reviled him. Worlds condemned him. There were more bounties on his head than there were strands of hair, and he had no shortage of that. Conflict and bloodshed seemed to greet the Armada in every galaxy, on every planet, and in every nation. But in all cases, peace and order were left in its wake. Whatever the risk, whatever the cost, whatever the sacrifice, Kindel Thorus would see evil brought to its knees. And when it was over, as those men begged for forgiveness, Kindel would show them the same amount of mercy that they had shown to others.
With an exhausted sigh, Petreit drove his shovel into the dirt. Despite his fondness for archeology and the initial excitement of being placed on the dig team, his frustrations had mounted with the passing weeks. Details regarding the nature of their search were scarce. They were looking for an unusual rock, he'd been told. Each man had been given a rolling crate equipped with a depth scanner to collect as many unique stones as could be found. In particular, they were to keep watch for any that may have been hand-carved or otherwise unnaturally altered. Odd colors were of interest as well. When the commander had first given those instructions, Petreit envisioned rows of crates lined up alongside one another, each overflowing with colored rocks and stones and pebbles. But after four weeks of digging themselves into an eighty-foot deep crater, they had barely filled one crate.
"Come on, hurry up!" Commander Andorel's voice barked to Petreit's left. He walked past with his hands clasped behind his back, sparing the lieutenant a stern glare before continuing. "Let's finish the day strong before the shuttles get here!"
Petreit frowned and scooped another clump of soil. Thus far, Andorel had not made a habit of patrolling the grounds and calling out orders. The few times Petreit had seen him, he was lounging with a cold drink along with the other senior officers beneath a sturdy canopy along the far western edge of the excavation. Why the sudden display of responsibility?
Moments after he was gone, Petreit became aware of muffled whispers from the other men. Peppered amongst the murmurs, the word "admiral" stood out. Was that it? Had he come to inspect operations? Petreit turned his eyes to the upper edge of the dig site to see an assemblage of men silhouetted by the fading sunlight. The second figure from the left stood at least a head taller than the others, his long cloak swaying in the breeze. Petreit didn't have to see his glowing eyes to know that it was Kindel Thorus, but there they were, two pinpricks of azure shining from the darkness of his towering shadow. Even amongst his own species, Kindel's eyes were unique, an unmistakable identifying characteristic. There could be no doubt. It was him!
For a moment, the universe seemed to stand still. It was a well-known fact that the grand admiral of the Vezulian Armada was not a patient man, nor did he tolerate failure. Those who were unable or unwilling to perform to his standards received harsh and often painful punishment. Beads of sweat returned to Petreit's forehead in an instant. Though he supported the goals and purpose of the Vezulian Armada, the possibility of being on the wrong end of Kindel's anger made him tremble with anxiety. Had the excavation team's relative lack of findings driven the admiral to take action? Had his patience run out?
A commotion to the east drew Petreit's attention. A group of researchers had gathered together close to a hundred paces away from where he stood, and more were flocking to the scene. Commander Andorel pushed his
way into the crowd and disappeared. Several others rushed past Petreit, and for a moment, he was tempted to join. But he could almost feel the admiral's eyes on his back. They kept him paralyzed, frozen in place until Andorel emerged from the crowd and cupped his hands to his mouth. "Everyone pack up and move out!"
Cheers rose from the men as they scattered, scooping up tools and rolling away crates. Petreit dropped his shovel into his crate and sealed the lid. Though he tried to keep his head down, something drew his eyes to the precipice.
Kindel Thorus was gone.