So, another weekend, another Tale of the Nineteen Galaxies. This week, a story that started life as a 40k story. This could be the first part of a serial short story, little tidbits spread out over several weeks to make up a short story. Not sure yet. Let me know what you think!
Oh, and an update on The Package. I’m now up to 37,000 words, with only 7 big chapters to go! Fingers crossed I can finish it before Nanowrimo in November, and thus begin The Case of the Empty Killer.
So, without further ado, here’s The Lost!
“Welcome to the Valhalla Archive!” a voice boomed over the snow blizzards that constantly pummelled the landing pad.
Two cloaked explorers stepped off the boarding ramp of the shuttle and strode over to the Wolf Guardian. The Guardian, resplendent in his dull plate armour and wolf fur cloak, shook their hands and gestured for them to follow.
The two newcomers looked at each with a look of surprise at just how big the helmeted Guardian was. They crossed the distance between the shuttle and the stairwell in five minutes of jogging in between walking quickly to keep up with the seven-foot tall guardian. The Wolf, like many of his kind, had a thick red beard, his long hair tied back in a thick braid.
Once the door closed behind them, the two explorers removed their hooded cloaks to reveal…
“Terran Army? You two are Terran Army?” the Wolf asked in a low growl; to the explorers he sounded amused, even bemused. The two explorers only wore the fatigues of Terran soldiers, an almost emerald green colour underneath the white of their blizzard-cloaks. Both of their cloaks carried the rank tapes of a Colonel and a Major.
“What did you think we were? Space Marines? The Spanish Inquisition?” The Colonel retorted. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, which wasn’t unusual among Regattans, although rare among nobles of the same planet. Commander of the 32nd Rifles, Hans Fellholm had seen more action than most. His companion was Major Adams, a New Terran that had managed to stick with Fellholm since the Officer’s Academy on Karmana.
The two officers placed their green peaked caps on their heads when they entered a large alcove covering the main doors.
“Are you sure that’s going to be enough?” the Wolf chuckled. The set of massive doors seemed big enough to fit a starship through, and opened with a deafening grind. Other Wolf Guardians were present; some were armed with giant halberds and stood at rigid attention either side of dusty leather-bound doors.
The Librarian was stood behind a massive altar, surrounded by hundreds of pieces of data. He was incredibly ancient, as if he had been alive for millennia, thin, haggard, and wasted like the old wizards of fairy tales.
His voice was a bare whisper, enhanced by a microphone at his throat and speakers at the base of the altar.
“Colonel, Major, you have requested a look at the archives, yes?”
Fellholm held out a digipad, and placed it in the clasping claws of a mechanical arm that extended from a hole in the altar. It held the digipad’s screen in front of the Librarian’s face. He clucked, ummed and aahed, and finally gave a whispered grunt of approval.
“Request granted. May I ask what it is you’re looking for?”
“Any and all data on a race known as the Core.”