Childhoods Lost (Sentinels Saga Book 2) Read online

  CHILDHOODS

  LOST

  Linn Schwab

  Book #2 in the Sentinels saga.

  Be sure to read Part One first — Sentinels: Children of Valhalla

  The characters in this book are fictional.

  Any resemblance to actual persons,

  living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by B. Linn Schwab

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced

  or distributed in any manner without

  permission from the publisher.

  Mystic Winds Publishing

  Kalamazoo, Michigan.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  THE LIVINGSTONE 046

  CHILDHOODS LOST 047

  PARADISE 048

  AFTERMATH 049

  RECOVERY 050

  MORNING 051

  ANGELS 052

  CONSEQUENCES 053

  DECISIONS 054

  UNCERTAINTY 055

  ANTHROPOMORPHICS 056

  MISPERCEPTIONS 057

  PROCEEDINGS 058

  TACTICS 059

  ENEMIES 060

  AWAKENINGS 061

  RIDDLES 062

  DISCOVERIES 063

  LAMBS 064

  MANEUVERS 065

  QUANDARIES 066

  METTLE 067

  HUNTERS 068

  CHANCES 069

  INTENTIONS 070

  VULNERABILITIES 071

  VALHALLA 072

  THE LIVINGSTONE 046

  <<<br />
  Space was running out at the pre–‌launch ceremony for the ESS David Livingstone. Dignitaries and press from all around the world had gathered at Cape Canaveral for the send–‌off celebration. As the last of the invited guests arrived at the stage front, they squeezed through the mass of reporters and diplomats, packing themselves into the spectator area to secure a desirable view of the festivities. This was an event several years in the making, and the entire world was virtually guaranteed to be watching. An enormous amount of resources had been invested in this project, and nearly everyone on Earth stood to gain or lose something from it, even if only indirectly.

  The Livingstone itself was in orbit above the planet, still tethered to its enormous construction platform. Most of the crewmembers were already up in space, making last minute preparations before the upcoming launch. Only the officers currently remained Earth–‌side, waiting to blast off and join their comrades up in space. They were expected to address the crowd any moment now before heading skyward to begin their epic twenty–‌four month journey.

  The Livingstone was the culmination of a global effort to kick–‌start a new phase of space exploration. It was said to be the first ship ever constructed that was capable of interstellar travel. Whether that claim was actually true or not was the subject of a great deal of ongoing speculation — by outspoken members if the public in general, and by various self–‌proclaimed experts who never seemed to have any official ties to the project. The ship’s builders themselves were keeping quiet on the subject, sparking vigorous debates and claims of hidden agendas. If anyone really knew the answer for certain, they were keeping that secret close to the vest and allowing rumors to circulate freely, perhaps as a way to generate interest in the project. But the ship’s ability or inability to travel such distances was a matter of little consequence at the moment. Its intended destination was much closer to home — the outer reaches of Earth’s own solar system. Its official mission was being billed as non–‌commercial scientific exploration. But that also was a matter of contentious discussion, for reasons that would have been readily apparent to anyone who’d been following the corresponding news coverage.

  Seventy–‌three nations had contributed to the project in the hopes of receiving generous returns on their investments. As a result of this unprecedented level of participation, the Livingstone had also become the first ship to be christened with the prefix “ESS,” which most people accepted as being short for “Earth Space Ship” while others insisted it should stand for “Earth Star Ship,” based on its suspected capabilities. But there were numerous skeptical voices in the media who stubbornly refused to make use of that prefix, in protest of the project’s greatest contributor — a company whose influence they were highly critical of. Instead, they mockingly used “PSS” in its place, which was generally understood to mean, “Practical Solutions Ship.”

  Many people in countries around the globe decried the existence of Practical Solutions. They argued that the company should have never been created, or allowed to grow into such a dominant force. It was the result of a merger between two struggling consumer products companies, and had emerged to become a veritable juggernaut in the marketplace. “Practical Solutions for your everyday problems,” was the giant corporation’s slogan, and it seemed that in the years following the merger, it was growing increasingly difficult to find products or services that weren’t influenced by Practical Solutions in some way. There were calls for the conglomerate to be disbanded or forcefully broken up into smaller entities. In order to placate these voices of protest, the company had launched public relations campaigns and made generous contributions to humanitarian causes. But despite the corporation’s ongoing efforts, there was still no shortage of outspoken detractors who simply refused to be won over. And it was these same voices who predictably raised the flag of caution over the true purpose of the ESS David Livingstone. They argued that government coffers around the world had been pillaged to fund a venture that would disproportionately benefit Practical Solutions. The claims of scientific research were a ruse, they insisted. Precious metals and ores were what the ship was really after. And as the largest single controlling interest in the project, Practical Solutions also stood to gain the lion’s share of any proceeds.

  Among the reporters who had gathered for this event, there were several who had made it a continuing priority to find fault with the actions of Practical Solutions, and expose any suspicious dealings which might be perceived as unethical. This mission was to be the company’s crowning achievement — its largest undertaking to date, with a worldwide audience tuning in to observe the pre–‌launch ceremony. It would be the perfect opportunity to raise questions of impropriety and embarrassing allegations that might tarnish its image. That would be the goal for more than a few of them, presumably, and everyone in attendance was well aware of that fact. But even the most diehard critics in the crowd realized they were facing an uphill battle. To their dismay, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that the company would be cast in a positive light when Captain Marcus Trujillo stepped up to the microphone. He was a wholesome, endearing hero to the public, and an effective spokesperson for Practical Solutions. Any criticism hurled in his direction seemed to evaporate into thin air. A frustrated interviewer had even once commented that trying to argue with Captain Trujillo was as futile as throwing water at a sponge. He seemed to possess an uncanny ability to absorb accusations laced with negativity and transform them into a reasoned response.

  On a launch pad that hadn’t seen a lift–‌off in decades, a scaffold platform had been erected to serve as an elevated stage for the press conference. As the spectators gathered in anticipation, they could clearly see the outline of a space shuttle in the distance, standing ready to transport the Livingstone’s officers up to the orbiting launch platform. A caravan of vehicles could also be seen winding its way toward the waiting crowd. That meant the ship’s officers would be arriving soon. The ceremony was about to begin.

  * * * *

  The Livingstone and its construction platform were linked to each other by four airlock extensions. As they orbited
the Earth in a gyrating pattern, they resembled a dancing couple performing a slow tango with their arms stretching out to hold onto each other. The time was drawing near for those arms to let go and allow the Livingstone to drift free on its own. But at the moment, construction workers were still passing through those extensions as they wrapped up their final pre–‌launch inspections.

  In the spirit of the international backing of this mission — and due in part to the global influence of Practical Solutions — teams from different nations or regions of the world had been assigned to oversee various phases of the construction. The engines had been built by a Russian team, and Japan had been called on to fabricate the hull. An African contingent was in charge of security, and China had produced the ship’s power generators. Most of those workers were long gone now, and the few that remained were now exiting the ship, having checked their work over one final time. A pair of security guards stood watch at each airlock, just as they’d been doing every day for the previous two years. As the last of the workers filed out of the ship, the guards were saying farewells to them, having grown accustomed to seeing them on a daily basis. The goodbyes were a somewhat tempering influence amidst a prevailing atmosphere of excitement. Relationships that had formed as a result of this project would be ending now as a result of its completion. But there was also a shared feeling of genuine relief that the teams had all proven they could work together, and the air was thick with anticipation as the time of the Livingstone’s launch drew near. The countdown clock had already started; less than twenty–‌four hours were now remaining.

  In a large storage room on construction platform Alpha, a team of technicians were making preparations to board the Livingstone one last time. They were all members of the Scandinavian contingent, overseeing construction of the ship’s life support systems. There was one final task scheduled for the team to perform before the ship could be declared fit for operation. Forty–‌eight members had been assigned for this duty, out of a pool of more than two hundred technicians. Each one of them had been personally screened and selected by Jüergens Allers — the Scandinavian team leader.

  Looking around at his team members now, Jüergens could see the looks of nervousness on their faces. His assistant director, Gustav Halvorsen, was already dripping with perspiration. This wasn’t entirely unexpected. What Jüergens was asking them to do could very well end up costing all of them their lives.

  “Last chance to back out,” Jüergens announced, giving his team ample time to respond. His offer was greeted with silence. All of them seemed committed to going forward with the plan. “Then let’s go,” he said, heading for the exit. “It’s time to put all of our preparations to the test.”

  * * * *

  Standing outside one of the Livingstone’s airlocks, security guard Alan Owusu heard the sound of equipment racks rolling in his direction. He glanced beside him at his shift partner, Victor, and asked if there was anything still remaining on the schedule. After a quick glance at his clipboard, Victor responded with a silent nod. “Some kind of filter equipment,” he said, speaking slowly in a heavy accent.

  A line of technicians approached Alan’s station, each of them pulling a tall rolling rack. At the head of the line was Jüergens Allers, with his assistant, Gustav, directly behind him.

  “Uhhh, just a minute,” Alan ordered, holding his hand up to stop their progress. He eyed the equipment racks with curiosity. Each of the racks was over two meters tall and more than a meter and a half square from top to bottom. The contents were concealed beneath opaque vinyl covers which kept everything above the racks’ wheels hidden from view. The line of workers pulling these racks stretched down the corridor as far as he could see. This made Alan a little uneasy. The ship was supposed to be leaving soon. It seemed a little odd to him that such an extensive amount of work remained to be done so close to the departure time. “What’s this all about?” he said, reaching for the cover on one of the racks.

  “Ah, ah, ah...” Jüergens cautioned, deftly brushing Alan’s hand aside. “These have to remain contaminant free. And you, my friend, are a walking contaminant.”

  The guard responded with a wry smile. He’d come to see Jüergens as a good friend, and the two of them often joked around with each other. “Does your mother know you talk that way to people?” he said.

  Jüergens answered with a wry smile of his own. “My mother taught me to wash my hands, Alan. And I’ve seen some of those sandwiches you eat. There’s no way you can wash that crap off your hands. You are contaminated for life.”

  Alan chuckled and slapped his belly. “Meat and mayonnaise are why God created hunger, Jüergens. He would never have created such a strong craving just for rabbit food.”

  “Well, rabbits seem to have a craving for it, don’t they? It seems like every time you see one, it’s eating.”

  “Yeah, but have you ever seen a rabbit smile while it’s eating? They can’t be all that thrilled with it. Not like what a pastrami on rye does for me. Praise the lord, and pass the mayo!”

  Jüergens laughed. “Good thing you won’t be going on this mission, then,” he said, nodding in the Livingstone’s direction. “Because meat and mayo are not on the menu. Just the finest in hydroponic delights.”

  “It’s a wasted journey, then,” Alan insisted. “Only a crazy person would sign up for such a thing. I still can’t believe they found anyone to go out there. You couldn’t pay me enough to live like that for two years.” He returned his attention to the covered racks, craning his neck to look down along the line. “Alright, so what have you got in these things, Jüergens? You’re making me awfully suspicious here. It looks like you’re building the great wall of China or something. I thought the ship was already finished.”

  “Pre–‌filters for the air processors. They need to remain as clean as possible, so we had to wait until everything else was finished before we could bring them on board and install them.”

  “Ahh, okay,” Alan said. “Can you just show me one of them, then? It is my job to inspect everything, you know. You don’t wanna get me in trouble now, do ya?”

  Jüergens nodded and reached for a zipper that ran up along the corner of one of the rack covers. He unzipped the cover and pulled it aside so Alan could get a look at the rack’s contents.

  “Alright,” Alan said, after a cursory inspection. “Sure looks like some kind of filters to me.” He stepped back to give Jüergens room to pass by him, and gestured to the workers to continue on their way. “Let’s go,” he said, motioning them onward. “Time’s a wastin’. Let’s get this baby ready to fly.”

  As Jüergens pulled his rack through the airlock, Alan called out a reminder to him. “See you at the launch party tomorrow, Jüergens?”

  “Well, you never know,” Jüergens replied. “Anything could happen, Alan.”

  “I’ll make sure they save you a sandwich! Extra pastrami, just for you, my friend!”

  When Jüergens was convinced he was out of Alan’s sight, he pushed his rack of filters to the side and turned to give instructions to the others behind him. “Let’s get the samples to the freezer right away,” he said, keeping his voice low so the guards wouldn’t hear him. “And please make sure none of the kids end up in there. Let’s not start this out with a tragic oversight.”

  “Yeah, that would be bad,” Gustav said — his voice wavering perceptibly. “As if we haven’t ruined their lives enough already.”

  “Come on,” Jüergens said to him, “let’s get to the bridge. The sooner we get this over with, the better!” As the two of them scrambled toward the Livingstone’s bridge, the rest of the team began unzipping the rack covers and opening compartments that had been concealed beneath them. Only the first two racks contained intact pre–‌filters — enough, Jüergens had hoped, to get past Alan’s inspection. His crew had determined it should also be enough to safely operate the ship in the absence of industrial mining operations. The remainder of the filters had been hollowed out so that only their ou
ter casings remained. Safely concealed within those outer casings were two very precious forms of interstellar cargo — the children and spouses of Jüergens’ team members, and biological samples from a majority of Earth’s other life forms.

  Stepping inside the Livingstone’s bridge, Jüergens headed for the nearest control panel. “Check the security feed,” he told Gustav. “Let’s make sure the ship is clean.”

  Gustav ran to a security console and quickly scrolled through a list of checkpoints. “It looks like we’re clear,” he confirmed. “Only our team is on board right now.”

  Jüergens took a deep breath and began typing numbers into his console. “Time to find out if these codes really work. If they don’t, then we’ve wasted an awful lot of effort.”

  * * * *

  Standing at his checkpoint just outside the airlock, Alan was struggling to keep a smirk off his face as he thought about his conversation with Jüergens. “Save you a sandwich,” he said with a chuckle, glancing at Victor to gauge his reaction. Both of them started laughing together, knowing that Jüergens was a vegetarian. “I sure am going to miss picking on Jüergens,” Alan said. “And to think I even get paid for doing it!” Their laughter was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the airlock slamming shut behind them. Both of them spun around to face the doors with a look of shock and surprise on their faces. “Umm,” Alan stammered in confusion, “what the heck is going on here?”

  * * * *

  A deafening roar of cheers and applause marked the arrival of the Livingstone’s officers. As each of them climbed out of their limousines, they smiled and waved to the waiting spectators, eliciting brief swells in the continuous crowd noise. Captain Trujillo was the last to emerge and climb up the steps at the side of the stage. He quickly made his way up to the podium, expecting to deliver the speech of his life. If previous experience was anything to go by, the applause would continue for several minutes before the crowd would quiet down and allow him to speak. It was just something he had come to expect as a result of his previous public appearances. So he immediately sensed that something was wrong when a startled hush fell over the audience, and all of them turned their gazes skyward, collectively focusing on a single location. With an uneasy feeling of foreboding setting in, he turned to look up in the direction they were facing, surmising he wasn’t going to like what he saw. A brilliant glow could be seen high above the Earth, which could only be a sign of something gone terribly wrong.