Curious Sols (The Sol Principle Book 1) Read online

  “As the years passed, my teacher gave me more than just physical instruction. He passed down the history of his art,” John related as he knelt once again. The word "history" had become their "buzz word" for boring. Jessica started to rustle a bit in her position. John noticed and gave her a wink saying, “Don't worry, my history lesson is about over.”

  “It was a tradition for this life protection art to be passed down in a very personal way,” John explained. “Father to son, son to grandson,” he continued. “When no blood relative was available, an exception could be made for an exceptional student. Your mother and I plan on maintaining the integrity of our "Art" with this tradition."

  Taking out his neuroband, he drew it around his head and into position.

  Closing his eyes for a brief second before reopening them, John focused on his entire family. One at a time, a beautiful butterfly flew around each of the family members and landed on their hands. Each butterfly was unique in color. They gently fluttered their wings as they rested contently.

  “Mine is purple!” cheered Jessica with an exuberant glee. She lifted her hand to eye-level hoping to take a better look at the butterfly.

  Even Stephanie unwittingly crept out of her teenage shell for a moment of childlike wonder.

  John smiled as he took in the reactions of his children. His gaze crossed with Ashley's. She tilted her head slightly as if to ask a question. Without a word, John returned her glance with a request for patience.

  John saw it first in Stephanie’s eyes, then her eyebrows, and finally her hands as she deliberately waved them through them through the air. She could tell this wasn’t a hologram.

  “Wait a second,” Stephanie paused. “This butterfly is way too real for a hologram. I mean I felt it land on me, and I can feel it moving around in my hand. Not to mention the colors and the detail, that's way too detailed for a hologram. What's going on, Dad?”

  “You might say that a ghost is visiting you, right Jessica?” John peeked over at his youngest daughter.

  Jessica thought a second before grasping the reference. “You mean like the time Mr. Ghost came to visit me.”

  “Brilliance that must be hereditary,” John smiled in Jessica's direction. “I mean of course, you must get that from your mother.” John grinned at Ashley.

  While he joked no one noticed Stephanie's reaction to her father's praise for Jessica. Her face had turned red as she began twisting her fingers.

  Putting a serious face back on, John continued, “If you take one part “necessity” and mix it with one part “by accident,” you have the recipe for how your mother and I discovered how to do this. It turns out you don't need a computer, or even a receiving neuroband to send your thoughts to another person.”

  Stephanie and Jessica looked at each other, their expressions now one part amazed, one part confused.

  “Those butterflies are from my imagination,” he added. “I remember them from the butterfly sanctuary we visited last year. I had to add a little purple to yours, Jessica, but that was an easy twist.”

  “But they feel so real, Dad,” Stephanie chimed in.

  “That's because, in a way, you are really feeling it,” John explained. “When I project my thoughts to you, they stimulate the neurons in your body, just like the NEUBI does at school. Your brain receives the signals just as if you had actually felt the butterfly walking on your hand. The part that is throwing you off, is that we're not laying down, relaxing, and relying on a computer to process the signal.”

  “I don't get it,” Jessica chimed in.

  John gave her an analogy to think about. “Think of it like your princess time with Wispy. You know how your toy creates the castle, the walls, and the decorations?”

  Jessica nodded her head.

  “Well pretend you didn't need the holocastle anymore and you could play princess anytime, anywhere.” He tried to get his idea across her. “You wouldn't even need the real dresses anymore because you would just imagine them for everyone.”

  Jessica seemed quite excited about that proposition.

  Pulling out a mini I-Know from under his GI, John cleared his throat.

  “Okay, so I've been working on this for many, many seconds, because I wanted something catchy to help you remember this stuff,” John said with a wink in his eye. “No laughing until I'm done at least.”

  Jessica and Stephanie looked at each other again, both thinking the same thing.

  “Sure, Dad,” agreed Stephanie.

  Quickly followed by Jessica, “Yeah, Dad, sure.”

  Both of them had secretly crossed their fingers on both hands.

  John gazed at them with a concerned eyebrow one last time. He then recited his poem.

  Think of a time and something you've seen

  How it looks, how it sounds, and add on the three

  The more you describe, the more they believe

  If both can't imagine, then nothing may be

  The girls looked at each other and then on cue, burst into laughter. Even Ashley had trouble restraining herself.

  “Hey, I'm just a sensitive kind of guy,” John put on his best injured look.

  “So I guess when Kyle and the rest of the sentinels come by, I should let them know you're to be addressed as Commander Sensitive now?” Ashley quipped.

  “Actually, I've been hoping for a promotion to Captain Sensitive,” John parried. “I like the ring of that.”

  Jessica couldn't help jumping up now after kneeling for so long.

  “So what does your silly poem mean, Dad?” she asked.

  “Well, your mom and I found out early on, that it was easier to send thoughts of what you know then what you don’t,” John replied “Think of it like this, you can't describe orange juice very well if you haven't tasted it first.”

  “I want some orange juice,” Jessica interjected. “I'm thirsty.”

  “We'll take a break in a minute,” John placated her. “So thinking of a time and something you've seen means, don't just make it up. That doesn't work real well.”

  “Dad I have a question,” Jessica slipped into her school self.

  “Um, okay you don't have to raise your hand kiddo,” John teased her.

  “I wanted to know why you're teaching us.” Jessica added.

  John thought for a second before replying, “What do you mean?”

  “I thought Mom was the smart one,” Jessica said in a matter of fact voice.

  “What, eh,” John stammered, but could not finish his thought as Ashley was leaning over, laughing hysterically.

  John stood there for a moment, hands down to his sides, chin down to his chest. Meanwhile, Ashley managed to compose herself. She stood up and went over to Jessica and gave her a big hug.

  “It turns out your father is smarter than we thought,” Ashley joked.

  “Et tu Brute,” John looked up and gave Ashley a tearful look.

  “I mean,” Ashley continued. “I can't explain it either, but for some reason your father seems to be a natural when it comes to this.”

  John looked up and in his best haughty voice said, “You wouldn't be the first person to underestimate my massive intellect.”

  Before the jokes could fly he added, “But perhaps we should get back to serious business.”

  He whispered to Ashley as he passed her, “We can debate who's smarter later.” He gave her a wink.

  “Okay, let's try this out, what do you say?” John began. “These neurobands were recently cooked up by your mother. They're basically the ones we use, but have some extra safety features added in. In fact I think your mom threw in everything including an airbag.”

  “What's an airbag?” Stephanie asked.

  “Oh, yeah, it was something they put into cars back in the day to keep people from getting knocked around,” John explained.

  “Dad,” Jessica added on to her sister's question.

  “Yeeeees?” John replied.

  “What's a car?” Jessica asked.

  Joh
n rubbed his head a bit. “I'll keep my archaic references to a minimum. Jess, a car is a machine people used to travel around in.”

  “OK,” Jessica seemed easily satisfied with the answer.

  “Go ahead and put your neurobands on,” John instructed, as he removed his neuroband.

  “Jessica, you're thirsty, right?” John knew the answer, but asked anyways.

  Jessica started toward the exit questioning, “Is it break time?”

  “No, not quite, but I needed to know for sure,” John responded.

  Jessica was about to issue a complaint before John interrupted her.

  “When I first tried this, I needed something too, Jessica.” John tried to reel her back in. “I needed to find a way to say "hi" to you and make sure you were OK I think that necessity was a key in me figuring out how to do this. So if you really want orange juice, I'll bet you can describe it pretty good right now.”

  “Yeah, I can almost taste a glass right now,” Jessica hopped slightly as she replied.

  “I need you to describe it to me, go ahead, how does it look?” John asked.

  “It's orange of course,” Jessica replied.

  “Yes, it's orange,” John remarked, “but does it look thick or runny, can you see through it?”

  “No pulp!” Jessica relayed. “I don't like pulp in mine, so, I guess it’s pretty runny, but not like water. And you can't see through it, not like water either.”

  “How does it smell?” John asked.

  “Like oranges, silly,” Jessica giggled.

  John chucked a bit too. “I should have seen that coming. Okay, smarty-pants, I bet you'll say the same thing for how it tastes too.”

  Jessica nodded her head, still smiling ear to ear.

  “Well this may be a bit harder, how does it feel when you drink it. What's its texture if you know what I mean?” John upped the challenge.

  “With pulp,” Jessica pretended to spit out, “it’s like drinking food. You can taste that yucky pulp. Without pulp, the way I like it, it’s nice and smooth.”

  “Alright, Jessica,” John said slowly. “Now you're going to try to give your mother a glass of orange juice. We'll get you a real glass afterward. Sound fair?”

  Jessica nodded her head.

  John directed her through the process. “Close your eyes. Think of a nice glass of orange juice. How does it look? Can you take a whiff of it? Smells like oranges doesn't it.”

  Jessica nodded again with her eyes shut.

  John continued, “Now think of how that orange juice will go down nice and smooth, no pulp, just the way you like it.”

  Jessica licked her lips a bit.

  “Now open your eyes and I want you to hand your mother a glass of that juice, think of giving it right to her.” John finished his cues.

  Jessica opened her eyes. She reached her right hand out toward her mother as if she was holding a glass. Ashley in turn reached out and took the imaginary glass of orange juice.

  She smiled. “I can see it. What a refreshing looking glass of OJ.”

  Lifting her hand up to her mouth she took a drink of the beverage visible only to Jessica and herself.

  “Delicious!” Ashley commented as she let out a sigh of satisfaction.

  “It worked!” Jessica jumped up and down, “It worked!”

  “Way to go squirt!” Stephanie kidded her.

  Jessica was so excited she didn't even catch her sister's comment. John went over to his youngest and rubbed her head before giving her a hug.

  “Alright let's take a well-earned break,” John suggested. “After that, it's Stephanie's turn!”

  John pulled Stephanie into the group with an outstretched arm. The Quinns walked to the exit of the dojo ready to enjoy a well-earned beverage.

  *

  Chapter 18 A Battle for the Ages

  John crouched behind what was left of the stone wall. Cannon balls flew across the battlefield, leveling what remained of the outpost. Behind the relative safety of the wall, he watched as a regiment of British Calvary moved into position. Their red coats not only announced their presence, but kept them safe from friendly fire.

  From behind him he could see what was left of the Spartan infantry. The crimson armor of the warriors offered little protection from the superior firepower. Their ranks had been decimated by long range cannon fire and rifle shot though a few British soldiers caught the end of an expertly tossed spear.

  The cannon fire had stopped. The ranks of British Cavalry were now prepared to charge. On the opposite side, the Spartan warriors had formed a Phalanx formation. Spears were planted and Xiphos kept close at hand for the combat to come.

  The charging hooves were matched in volume by a battle cry from the Spartans. John spun around looking for a way to escape. It was no use; he was caught squarely at ground zero of the impending battle.

  John looked around for a weapon. He desperately tried to find a shield, sword, or musket, something to protect himself with. John searched all sides of the crumbled wall, racing to beat the oncoming rush. Time ran in slow motion, however, as the soldiers were taking an eternity to reach him. He knew this was a dream.

  Appearing from nowhere, a man walked up to John. He extended a shield and a Xiphos to John.

  “You will be a natural leader of warriors, John,” a familiar voice beckoned him. Studying the man's face, he immediately recognized him. The voice belonged to Dominic. John stood his ground refusing to accept the weapons.

  Feeling a moist breath of air on his neck, John spun around. Behind him was a cavalry officer of the British regiment sitting upon his steed. The man pulled out a pistol from his belt and offered it to John, handle first.

  “You will need this Governor,” the officer said. “We expect you'll secure the colonies under executive order from the president.”

  John tilted his head and said, “President? Don't you mean king?”

  “Would you serve a tyrant, John?” interjected Dominic, his gaze snatched around. “Why would you follow the degenerative remains of democracy when you can defend the virtuous?”

  The dream was clouding his judgment. He couldn't understand. The thundering sounds of the cavalry and the battle cries of warriors were filling his head.

  John screamed, “Enough!”

  Sitting up in his bed, John tried to shake off the fog of sleep. The vidcomm beside his bed was sounding a priority page. The message read: “Commander Quinn, Report to the Bridge Immediately.” It repeatedly scrolled across the vidcomm until he clicked it off. Looking over at Ashley she was still sound asleep. Apparently the page was for him only, or the vidcomm would have broken her sleep cycle as well.

  “Lucky,” John whispered to her.

  Motioning his closet open, John reached in and pulled out a sentinel uniform. When paged in the middle of the night, his protocol called for combat dress. Pulling the pants on, they seamlessly shrunk to fit his form. The same was true of his shirt. Unlike a standard issue MARC uniform, the material of his sentinel uniform was resistant to slash, puncture, and even crushing blows. A special feature of this version was the personal defense mesh built into the fibers of the uniform. When activated, anyone touching or touched by the uniform would be the unlucky recipient of a stun charge. This would result in a shutdown of all non-vital muscular movement. Lastly, protocol required a pulse weapon be carried while in sentinel uniform. John quickly grabbed a pulse pistol before heading out the bedroom doorway.

  As John trotted down the hall toward the lift, he tried to process the crazy dream he was having. He knew there was some message worth decoding, but he wouldn't ignore a priority page.

  John activated his Ksync setting a reminder. “Remind me. Don't forget about the dream.” A second later, the Ksync confirmed his command. “Hourly reminder set.”

  Finding the lift empty in the middle of the night, John stepped on. He punched the icon for the bridge and waited impatiently to reach his destination.

  Jumping off the lift to the bridge, John
saw four people standing by the main vidcomm. Captain Sterling motioned him over.

  “A bit overdressed aren’t we, Commander?” greeted Navigation Officer Simmons.

  John gave him a fake smile and a nod.

  Ignoring both men, Captain Sterling addressed the group. “We may have an emergency situation here.” Swiping the vidcomm controls, the captain switched it to tactical view.

  “We have six incoming ore carriers in route to Earth,” she began. “All six passing through our space. A routine event until the Nav computer put out an alert for collision course. It turns out not one, but all six transport ships are on a direct heading for the fleet. Add that to the fact that these ships are ahead of schedule makes this by design not by chance.”

  “But those ships are coming from the MARC station,” commented Ensign Williams.

  “Exactly,” replied the captain, “We have to consider the possibility the MARC station is compromised. We've sent them a priority transmission and should hear back any minute.”

  “If that's the case,” Commander Quinn added to the discussion, “we may have a bigger problem. If the MARC station is compromised, will we have a plasma burst to slow us down?”

  “We haven't figured out how the rest of the fleet will slow down, regardless,” commented Ensign Williams.

  The captain tapped the ore carriers on screen. “Let's take one problem at a time. This one takes top priority. Ensign Simmons, can we use maneuvering thrusters to alter our course?”

  The Navigation Officer paused and then responded. “It's possible, but at these speeds any adjustments could risk our intercept with Mars. With enough simulations, we may be able to fire a burst to avoid collision and then a burst to course correct after they pass.”

  “Get those simulations running, Navigator,” the captain said briskly.

  Ensign Simmons returned to his navigation workstation while the remainder of the group stayed at the main vidcomm.

  Captain Sterling glanced at the time, “We should be receiving a response from the MARC station any second now.”