Proxima the othaul dynas.., p.1
Proxima: The Othaul Dynasty (Proxima Odyssey Series Book 2), page 1
PROXIMA
THE OTHAUL DYNASTY
BY CHASE HILDENBRAND
PROXIMA
THE OTHAUL DYNASTY
Copyright 2021 by Chase Hildenbrand
All Rights Reserved
The characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No parts of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or
transmitted in any form or by any means without written
permission by the author.
ISBN: 9798541896770
For my daughter, who inspires me to keep writing.
PART 1
Chapter 1
The ship’s musty stench made them scowl, not to mention the oppressive heat and humidity making it difficult to breathe. Dim red bulbs lit the dark hallways. The light shining off the wall’s slick surfaces as they dripped with moisture. Moments ago, they loaded onto a hovering platform that lifted them from the Proximian surface to the ship’s access point fifty feet above. Once they entered, the platform rotated vertically and attached itself to the outer hull, locking them inside the black ship that landed in the aftermath of the war with the Proximians who lived in the underground mountain city.
One Othaul led the way in front, a second held a weapon to them from the rear. The Othauls wore armored mechanical suits covering nearly their entire bodies, exposing only their heads. Their midnight-black skin glistened with perspiration. The one in front stopped abruptly, turning around to face the group. Its yellow eyes glowed in the near darkness as they bored into their prisoners. Pure white hair flowed from its head to midway down its back. Though not as tall as Proximians, the two Othauls had a few inches on the humans. It was difficult for them to determine if the Othauls were especially muscular or if their mech-suits presented a false impression.
The lead Othaul grunted and nodded its head to the left in the direction of a small room. Liam Donovan went in first, followed by his fiancé Ann Caldwell. Zale Alday entered third, then a Proximian called Dyran of the Wrykes, and lastly two of their friends Jon Crouch and Stacy Rednour.
Two hours had passed since the terrible battle ended. Almost a hundred thousand people suffered under merciless enslavement brought on by the Proximians that lived underneath a mountain. But not all members of the species were bad. Two thousand other Proximians belonging to various tribes spread out in the habitable zones of the tidally locked planet joined to help free the subjugated people of the Save the Species mission.
Under the leadership of Liam Donovan, the captain of the STS ship known as the Hawking, a group of just over three hundred fighters joined the battle late and gravely misunderstood the situation. They fired on [CH1]the wrong side, mistaking the tribal warriors as villainous savages and therefore were responsible for scores of wrongful deaths. It was Ann who sent word out that they had the optics wrong. Once they corrected their error, the battle came to a rapid end. Z56 fighter crafts wiped out the enemy with an astounding display of firepower.
Not long after, a lone Proximian warned them that others were on their way—a species known as the Othauls that had terrorized them for a thousand years. They came in a monstrous ship that hovered in the upper atmosphere. From it another craft came down, landing in the remnants of the battle and a dozen Othauls exited. They took Liam and those with him back to the craft and forced the remainder of the battle’s survivors, both human and Proximian, into the mountain city and locked them inside behind the steel door entrance.
The Othauls in the ship could speak Proximian, so Dyran acted as translator using an electronic device hanging from his neck. After the last of the group made their way inside the room, the lead Othaul locked them in without saying a word. The room was lined with empty shelves and barely large enough for them to stand comfortably. But with the door shut, the intense heat rose sharply. Beads of sweat rolled down the back of Liam’s neck. Ann gripped his arm, her fingernails digging into his skin.
“How in trouble are we?” Ann asked.
“Extremely,” Liam answered.
“I can’t believe we weren’t warned. The tribal Past Keeper should’ve told us the truth,” Ann said.
“I have a feeling more than one of us was kept in the dark,” Liam said.
“I assure you I knew nothing about these Othauls,” Dyran said.
“Not you I’m blaming, Dyran.”
Before Dyran could reply, Stacy spoke up. “What’s the plan?”
All eyes turned to Liam. He wished they wouldn’t. Never had he doubted his own leadership as much as he did at that moment. Culpable in the deaths of the planet’s native tribesmen and still they looked to him. But who else among them could step up?
“They’re going to want to know where we came from. We can’t tell them the truth.”
“What the hell are we supposed to say then?” Jon asked.
“I have no idea,” Liam admitted. It was the truth. Much of his adulthood was spent in military service for the former United States of America. He fought in several conflicts, most notably the African Water War. Toward the end of the war, he spent two days captured by the enemy in Cameroon. However, when things were darkest, he knew he could count on his allies to come for him, so a thread of hope always remained. What allies would be coming for them now? Where was the hope?
“I know what we can do. We’ll feed them a false trail,” Zale said.
“How?” Liam asked.
“Dyran’s vessel in orbit has access to star-charts, does it not, Dyran?” Zale asked.
“Yes. There is a map of coordinates of stars within a fifty light year radius of Earth that have potentially habitable planets.”
“Why do you have that?” Ann asked.
“The Proximian shipping guild installs the charts on all Proximian vessels equipped with the wormhole drive.”
“The wormhole drive you were never supposed to use?” Liam asked.
“Precisely.”
“Dyran, I know we just met, but I don’t understand. Why have a drive and star-charts if you aren’t supposed to use them?” Ann asked.
“The guild takes orders from the Proximian Council and to a lesser degree the PAG. Sorry, Ann, the Planetary Authoritative Government. I am on the council, but I’m a junior member. I’m sure the elders have their reasons.”
“Dyran, are there other sentient species in the galaxy? Is that why you’re equipped with the drive and charts?” Liam asked.
Dyran paused as if unsure how to respond. After a momentary hesitation he said, “I’m not sure. None that I’m aware of, but to think the galaxy is empty besides humans, us, and the Othauls is a foolish assumption.”
Liam nodded, accepting the answer.
“So,” Zale began, “we tell them we need to be on Dyran’s ship to show them where to go. We plug in the coordinates for a random star. Then, well, at least we’d get them away from everyone else.”
“You’re assuming those left here on Proxima would be unharmed?” asked Stacy.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry,” Zale said.
“We sacrifice ourselves. That’s your plan?” Ann asked.
“I’m open to ideas if you have any. Liam told me you were smart,” Zale said.
Jon had been watching the exchange from his position in the back corner. Before Ann could reply, he announced, “I have an idea.”
Percy Alvarez observed the flow of people exiting the elevators that brought them from the cave to the city’s entrance. Thousands of Save the Species crew and passengers along with hundreds of tribal warriors from the Proximian Land’s army flooded the city streets with nowhere to go. Anxious and frightened they had no choice but to follow the Othaul’s orders to wait inside.
When the Othauls first arrived, Percy wanted to join Liam and the others as they were taken to the black ship. But Liam implored him to stay behind and be a leader to those who needed one. He didn’t feel like a leader. Sure, he took part in killing the wrong soldiers earlier in the battle outside, but that wasn’t his fuck-up. He was only following orders. His role of allowing others to lead had seen him through his military days, his time with the WWLO organization, then again when he was with Save the Species.
Before he was separated from the rest of his group, he suggested one of the remaining ship’s captains should lead, but Ann informed him that they, and anyone else in leadership positions, were killed weeks ago when the STS ships were brought down to the surface. With reluctance, he consented to stay behind.
Standing by the elevator door was Debra Sizemore, an ace pilot and commander of the Z fleet for her old ship, the Hawking. A natural leader, she took no convincing to stay behind and shepherd the people. She welcomed each group of incoming refugees to the city and instructed them to spread out and search for food and supplies.
Percy observed her for a moment. He remembered watching her when their old captain, and her former lover, Landon Jameson was killed on the Neptune moon, Triton. Her raw and powerful reaction moved him. He tried to remember the last time he felt something that strong and came up empty. Once he considered himself empathetic to other people’s situations, but then he thought about Liam; his supposed friend that he betrayed and almost killed in an explosion. While he didn’t plant the bomb that blew half of Liam’s workplace to hell, he was aware of the plot and let it unfol
While travelling his native solar system before coming to Proxima he had an abundance of time to think about his role with the WWLO, the so-called terrorist group who only wanted to continue living on Earth instead of giving up on the planet. He wouldn’t tell Liam or anyone else, but he still believed the WWLO had it right. He only went along with ending them because of the impending alien threat. Watching Debra, who lost so much and still found it in herself to guide strangers, he wondered if he left the WWLO for the greater good of humanity’s future, or for his own selfish reasons.
Debra leaned against the rock wall, the sharper points poked her side, but she didn’t care as she waited for the next elevator to unload. She’d been at this for the past half hour and her body grew tired. It had been a hell of a day. When the Othauls came she was hovering above the cave entrance in her Z56. She wanted to order her pilots to attack, but Liam stopped her. They argued briefly, but despite their band of fighters not being an official army, she felt loyalty to Liam as her leader and acquiesced. In hindsight, backing down proved to be the logical path to take. Her Z fleet would have been overwhelmed by the giant Othaul ship. Now that the adrenaline coursing through her was running out, she wanted to crash and crash hard.
The elevator opened revealing twenty to thirty new arrivals from the battlefield to the mountain city. Some were bloodied, but most had hidden inside the STS ships while others did the fighting. Debra recognized that not everyone was born to be a fighter, but when your life was on the line, who goes running to hide? She took a deep breath, looking past her judgmental thoughts, and put a smile on her face before repeating the same spiel she had said a dozen times by now. She wished Dyran were here to assist with translating for the Proximians.
Kailyn Rice, one of Debra’s reserve pilots who worked the night shift on the Hawking came out of the elevator. She was one of the hundreds who volunteered to fight with her and Liam instead of remaining in Spring Haven on Earth. She walked in with wide eyes and gaped in wonder at the stunning city built inside the hollowed-out mountain.
“Hey Kailyn,” Debra said.
“Oh, hello Commander.”
“How’s your arm?”
Kailyn’s arm sported a hole through the fabric covering her bicep. Dried blood stained the sleeve surrounding the wound. “I’ll be alright. It’s not as bad as it looks. I got hit by a rogue spear thrown from a tribal.”
“I’ll send someone to help you clean it. But in the meantime, would you mind taking over for me? I need a break. Just tell everyone to spread out and find supplies and bring any food to the center of the city.”
“Yes ma’am. Not a problem.”
“Thank you.” And with that, Debra left her self-imposed station and went to find a place to rest. She caught Percy watching her from the corner of her eye. She never liked him even from before she knew he worked with terrorists. Something about him always made her squirm, and not in a good way. He looked away as soon as he noticed her catching on to him.
She kept walking, unsure where to go. Thousands of people and Proximians wandered the city streets aimlessly. Some explored the abandoned vehicles and store fronts fascinated by the different technologies and culture. Others raided restaurants and eateries sampling the food then taking what they could grab to the center of the city to contribute their findings to the ever-growing stockpile.
A passing man offered her a plate taken from a nearby restaurant. The food resembled noodles, but she found the purple base color odd and slightly off putting. A mixture of blue and purple leaves garnished the top of the half-eaten entrée. The man handed her an eating utensil—a long and slender, red, two-pronged apparatus. Unlike a traditional fork, the prongs curved in opposite direction of each other. After a second of consideration her hunger won out and she tried twirling the noodles with the device but couldn’t wrap her head around how to properly use it. Aggravated, she resorted to picking up a handful of noodles and eating them with her dirty fingers. The taste was pleasant in defiance of the unnatural color.
She slurped up the last noodle and came upon what appeared to be a five-story residential building. The exterior walls were a beautiful mixture of glass and stone sparkling with embedded crystals of a multitude of color creating a dazzling light show. Many of the city’s buildings featured similar architectural design aesthetics of using stone and glass to create a hybrid structure. The taller edifices were predominantly glass, and the shorter ones primarily stone. The mid-size buildings like the complex she was entering now featured them evenly.
Her open palm grazed against the rough stone as she entered the doorway. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim interior after coming inside from the bright light of the city. Past the initial space—a grandiose lobby with lean sitting furniture consisting of a strange yellow shiny material—a lengthy hallway protruded right down the middle of the building. A handful of the battle’s survivors walked the hallway claiming empty domiciles. Debra followed in their wake.
At the end of the hallway, it opened to a circular room with four round alcoves along the far wall. They spanned a width of three feet each and their height reached the ceiling and beyond. Debra inspected the one closest. Next to each were different symbols of some sort inscribed on the wall. Inside the alcove a semi-circular metal platform rested on the floor taking up the dimensions of the alcove itself. She stepped inside and looked up. Where the ceiling should have been the alcove extended into the darkness. By now four more people had joined her and were inspecting the other three alcoves.
“They’re elevators,” a child said. The young boy reached to the symbol outside the alcove Debra was standing in and tapped it. Debra almost toppled over when the platform hummed to life and began rising. She felt panic when the light from the downstairs room disappeared encompassing her in darkness as she rose higher into the building. But her trip was short lived. Within a moment the platform stopped in another alcove that led into yet another hallway. She stepped off expecting the platform to descend to the ground floor, but it remained.
Thankfully, the prior residents fled in a hurry and the first apartment door she came to was left wide open. She walked in, shutting the door behind her, but too tired to attempt figuring out how to lock it. The layout was not too dissimilar to human living spaces. A room off to her left featured unfamiliar gadgets but judging by its size and proximity to a nearby table she assumed it to be the kitchen. She kept walking into the living area. Six individual chairs of narrow design with towering backs were situated in a circle facing each other. In the inside of the circle rested a triangular metal table with a series of buttons at each point and a ten-inch round display screen in the middle.
She kept exploring, searching for a place to lie down for a few minutes. Past the living area to the right an open door led her into a bedroom. It appeared to be a child’s room; the floor covered with a variety of small objects Debra thought could be toys and the walls were a brighter color than the rest of the apartment she’d seen thus far. A bed sat in the corner, but even with Proximians natural tall stature, the bed appeared too small for her to lay comfortably. She felt like Goldilocks as she went on looking for a bed to fit her.
Eventually she found one. The bed was longer than any she’d ever slept on by at least a foot, but the fabric was delightfully smooth as she reached down to feel it. On a table against the wall beside the bed sat a display screen featuring a video loop of a Proximian family. Two adults sat laughing in the plains outside the mountain with a child in between them. Debra picked up the frame and watched as the child stood up from the grass and twirled to her parents’ delight. She smiled at the moving photo and placed it back down on the table and wondered if either of those parents were still alive or had she or another killed them in the preceding battle above.
Before lying down in the bed, she walked to the window overlooking the city. She was four floors up off the ground level. People and Proximians alike were busy below carrying food and supplies. She would join them soon. She set an alarm on her watch for an hour and fell into the soft sheets.
