Melancholy

By Demarcus Wells

Earth is no more, and an alien species has rescued the human race from extinction. Years have passed, and the humans have adapted to their new lifestyle on their new planet. They live with two different races, the Serene and the Gargadians, who live in harmony on one planet. But all isnt what it seems.
When the Gargadians and the Serene break out into all-out war with each other, the humans are caught in the middle. Not knowing much about why the war started, the humans side with their rescuers, the Serene. They fight alongside the Serene for a righteous cause, but all isnt what it seems when a team of soldiers stumbles on dark secrets that can bring an empire crashing down. Now the main focus of the team is getting the information to the right people and surviving.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524690144

Demarcus Wells

My name is Demarcus Wells. I was born and raised in Peoria, Illinois, on April 18, 1983. I am a huge family man, a father to four beautiful children. In 2009 I made the decision to join the military as a combat engineer in the US Army. I served three years as an active-duty soldier. From September 2010 to September 2011, I served on a twelve-month tour in Iraq. During my deployment, I discovered my interest in writing poetry. I also wrote about my day-to-day living in a journal. Once my contract ended, I was inspired to write a story my late brother and I had thought up when we were fifteen and sixteen. After my brother passed away in 2009, I thought more and more about the story we came up with, but with him gone, I decided to input some of my real military experiences and other real-life events. I decided to mix them in a science fiction novel as a tribute to my brother. I also gave him the character he had created as himself, getting him as close to his actual personality as I possibly could.

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© 2017 Demarcus Wells. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/05/2017

ISBN: 978-1-5246-9013-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-9012-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-9014-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017906614

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

PART 1

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ABOUT THE BOOK

T he year is 3004, and what you’re looking at is Earth, or what’s left of it anyway. It’s completely uninhabitable for humans now due to a massive outbreak of a virus, the likes of which no one has ever seen before. Earth from space still looks like it would sustain life; it still has water, and it’s very green. But the oxygen is toxic, poison to us now. The year was 2992 when a pandemic hi t us.

England was the first to get hit. People poured in by the hundreds, swamping hospitals. The numbers of sick coming in overwhelmed medical facilities. Not only that, but doctors and nurses who were trying to treat patients started to get sick. The symptoms of the virus were excruciating. The beginning stage included massive headaches, bad stomach pain, diarrhea, and trouble breathing. The second and final stage featured internal bleeding, kidney failure, liver failure, seizures, and cellular breakdown. One could tell who the sick were by the scars all over their bodies along with bleeding from the eyes, nose, and ears; it was like watching something out of a horror movie. The people looked like zombies. It was a sad sight.

Millions lost family and friends in the pandemic. The virus quickly spread all over the world. We were being wiped out; it was man’s first taste of facing extinction. Every country, every state, every city was forced into quarantine. The sick were kept in confinement and just waited to die. There was nothing that could be done for them. They mourned for their dead, sick, or dying loved ones. It was a very trying, emotional, and heart-crushing time for all the survivors.

And just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a miracle happened, something none of us were expecting. Ships started appearing all over the world. At first we didn’t know what to think. But after they landed, it was clear they were here to help us. They had this scanner that could tell whether someone was sick. It turned out that even some of the ones we didn’t think were infected actually were, but they were hosts and immune to the disease’s symptoms. They would give these hosts shots, and everyone else was screened. If the reading was red or yellow, the result was positive; if the reading was green, the person was uninfected. Those who were green were also numbered and boarded on their ship. If the reading was yellow, the person was not too far gone, and with the shot, he or she could be saved. If the reading was red, the person was too far gone and would be left behind.

It was a glorious day for some, but for most, it was a day they would never forget, because most of them left behind family members, friends, and loved ones. The looks on their faces were of despair and heartache. The alien species seemed to be unaffected and emotionally closed off to the event taking place. They never uttered a word, unless the matter had something to do with their mission of rounding us all up or when they spoke to each other.

Their language was something we’d never heard before. When they spoke to each other, we had no idea what they were saying. But when they spoke to us, we understood every word. They had translators they talked into, but they didn’t sound like robots. What we heard were their actual voices.

Their method for getting things done was more efficient than ours. The rescue was quick. It took us a month to get a good quarantine, though we don’t know how long it took across the globe. Some countries may have had good resources to conduct a good quarantine. In all, it probably took several months for the world to have everything in order. But the visitors took only seven days to have us all boarded up and on our way to our new home. It would have taken us maybe several thousands of years to get to their home planet. They found a wormhole a little past our moon, and we were there in a matter of days.

Before we entered the atmosphere, we were all amazed by how much their home planet looked like Earth, but we found out real quick that it wasn’t Earth. This was their planet.

We’re the indigenous people of the planet.

Indigenous people—that’s what they called themselves. The Serene. They didn’t go by kings or presidents; they had a structure of high councils. There were five members of the council in all; three were Serene. One was human, and the other was from another race that lived there. Every two years, we would appoint a council member to represent the humans.

To most people, the councilmen served more as messengers than anything else. They told us when new rules came out, different standards… anything the high council thought should be announced or changed. These were passed down to our representative, who passed it down to those under him. These standards were passed down to those was under him and so on… until they reached us.

The high council had zero tolerance for lawbreakers, so it was important that they sent any changes and new information to us fast. In everything and in every way they ran things was like a slap in the face to a free-spirited and free-willed people who loved to be unique and do their own thing. But the council made that impossible. The council was run like so: There was only one high council member who ran everything. His people referred to him as meek, and that’s what he went by. He ruled their whole planet. The system wasn’t like different countries or different leaders on our planet. Meek was ruler of all.

Two other council members were Serene. One was the secretary, who let Meek know about current events: the people’s actions in certain areas, living conditions, and anything he deemed important that he should know about. The other council member, the defense secretary, was in charge of defense, an area in which he had done a great job. The Serene weren’t fighters, and they knew it. So the defense secretary created a cybernetic army. The foot soldiers were all robots with the Serene’s intellect. They had tanks run by artificial intelligence, as were their fighter jets. Nothing had to be man operated, so no Serene lives could be lost.

The Serene were tall but frail, thin, and weak. By nature, fighting wasn’t their strong suit, but they were superior in intelligence. They thought in a whole different format than we did, which was why it was so much easier for them to make ridiculously futuristic things we couldn’t even imagine. Their technology surpassed ours by almost billions of years. The cybernetic program and artificial intelligence system were truly one of a kind. They were also heavily guarded—not even Meek, the high councilman himself, could just walk right up there without being questioned.

Besides the Serene, there was another species of aliens living here. They had been here a lot longer than we had, and they called themselves Gargadians. They were what we would call middle class on our planet. They had lots of say regarding what went on here simply because of their numbers and how long they had coexisted with the Serene. Anything they wanted was at their grasp and disposal. The Gargadians were an aggressive species—even their women were overly aggressive. They were violent and no strangers to war since they had been fighting among themselves since the beginning of time. But they had been tamed by the Serene’s laws.

The differences between the Gargadians and the Serene were like night and day. The Serene were tall and skinny creatures, who looked as if they would fall over if you merely pushed them with your pinky. They had large heads; huge, dark eyes; tiny mouths; and four ridiculously long fingers.

The Gargadians’ heads were similar to those of the Serene, but they were a lot longer in back. They had large mouths, full of razor-sharp teeth, and reptilelike skin. Their frames were built more like ours, though they came in all shapes and sizes, but they were a lot taller; average height was around six three. They had five fingers like us, but their fingers were long, like the Serene’s. Their fingernails were razor sharp, almost like claws —more proof that they were built for combat. They were strong, with more brute strength than any large animal, and they had serious attitude problems. It didn’t take much to set them off. They were rude… They had no manners whatsoever. If you accidentally bumped one another, you would most likely be shoved out of the way. They were just downright mean. How the three species would get along would be epic to watch. The Serene were like the rich and famous; they did something whenever and however they wanted to do it. The Gargadians were like the gothic group taking over the front pew at a Catholic church. They stuck out like sore thumbs because they couldn’t stay under the radar with their wild and violent nature. As for the humans, they just couldn’t get used to this way of life, especially so shortly after leaving the planet they called home. But on the flip side, they didn’t want to come across as ungrateful because they all knew that, if not for the Serene, they wouldn’t be alive.

Twelve years have passed since the rescue of humans from Earth, but for humans, it felt like they’d been on this planet forever.

PART 1

A ringtone went off in Desmond Walker’s ear. He popped his head up and looked at the clock. Oh shit. He frantically jumped out of bed and grabbed his army physical training (PT) uniform and mouthwash. He ran out the door, leaving his phone behind, still ringing, on his dresser. Walker already knew it was his team leader calling. He had seven missed calls, which meant everyone in his squad had called at least once.

He drove to his company, only to see his platoon running right past him. The look from his platoon sergeant spoke volumes as he drove past, parked his car, and bolted after his platoon. He caught up with them about a half mile from the base. His platoon sergeant never uttered a word, and his squad leader just looked at him and shook his head.

Desmond’s boy had the biggest grin on his face. Good job. Keep this up, and you’ll get your wish to be out of the military faster than expected.

Desmond replied, I ain’t worried about it.

They were in front of the formation, laughing about him always being late. After physical training was over, they formed up like they did every time, to distribute information and stretch before being released to go home and freshen up. After stretching, the platoon sergeant—Sergeant First Class Walter Hughes—released them to their squad leaders… but not before reminding his squad leaders of the events they had coming up.

"Squad leaders, don’t forget we have range week all week, and the week after, we have the super-soldier training. I haven’t figured out what missions we will have yet, so just stand by for that. I’m waiting to find out what stations they’re going to have. Lieutenant is supposed to relay that info to me today. Once he does, I’ll relay to you and so on… But for now, you know the drill: grab your gear, be at company on time.

Weapons draw is at thirteen hundred; thirteen fifteen is load up on the trucks. We depart to the training site, and we should be there no later than thirteen thirty. Setup, then safety-and-range briefing at thirteen forty-five. At fourteen hundred, we kit up and go hot. Any questions? Sergeant Hughes asked. The platoon just stared at him in complete silence. Well, okay. Squad leaders, they’re all yours. He called them to attention, turned leadership over to his squad leaders, and then left, heading into the company.

Staff Sergeant Kendall Avery was Second Platoon’s squad leader. He didn’t want to just sit at the company any longer. He was usually a straightforward, fair guy. All you had to do was be where you were supposed to be and do your job, and he was as cool as he could be. Avery didn’t take his job so seriously that he was a complete asshole to everyone else.

He also didn’t waste any time. He called Second Squad to attention and told them, You know what to do. Make sure you have all of your shit. And Walker, don’t be late. From now on, every minute you’re late is an hour you’ll stay behind after duty hours. He finished with, That’s all I got for now. Go home, shit, shower, and shave, and get back here—he looked at Walker for added emphasis—"on time! Fall out." They all dispersed and went their separate ways.

Walker was heading toward his car when his team leader, Sergeant Tyrell Jones, called out, Walker! Walker could tell by the way he’d called his name that he was furious. "Dude, what the hell is your problem? Nothing I’ve tried is working. We all have tried to reach you, work with you, but you show us over and over how much you really don’t give a rat’s ass! It’s a big ‘fuck you’ to all of us. You’re always late, and every time you screw up, you leave your battles in the dust. Yeah, I get it already: you hate the military. Well, guess what, dude? You freaking joined, so suck it up and do what you have to do to get out on a good note.

"You do know how it is out there. What kinda job will you be working? Catering to egomaniacs like the Serene? But it’s up to you. If I were you, I would start thinking about getting my shit together and figure out what the hell I want outta life," Sergeant Jones told Walker.

Rogerrrrrrrr, Sarge, Walker said in a dry tone. It was obvious he didn’t care what Sergeant Jones was telling him. Are we done, Sergeant?

"Yeah. Be here with all your shit, on time."

Roger.

Walking away, Walker jumped in his car and drove off.

The time flew rapidly. Walker and his squad were soon back on base and ready to go. Other NCOs yelled out. NCOs or noncommissioned officers are regular enlisted soldiers who have successfully achieved the ranks of sergeant. Noncommissioned officers go from sergeants to sergeant majors. The soldiers quickly lined up for gear checks. After they were checked and cleared, they grabbed their magazines, full of ammunition, and were escorted on to the range to the positions they would be firing from once they were all on line. They received the order to adjust their sandbags or anything else they needed, and they had one minute to do so. Once they all had made their adjustments, they got the command to get into a good prone, supported position.

The soldiers scanned their selector switches from safe to semi and were given the go-ahead to fire when ready. Walker had an almost demonic, eerie grin on his face when those words were spoken. If it weren’t for the dark visors he had on, his eyes would have told it all. The first target popped up. Walker nailed it right between the eyes. The twenty-five meter popped up next, and as soon as it was up, it was back down. He knocked down target after target until he got to the three hundred. He took a slow, deep breath—and exhaled just as slowly—but stopped his exhale at its halfway point, held it, and then squeezed the trigger gently (so he didn’t jerk his weapon before or when it fired).

Everything was in slow motion for him as he walked through the firing routine he had learned in basic but perfected at his unit. After he fired at the three-hundred meter, he watched it drop as his bullet punched right through it. Once they had fired all their rounds, there was complete silence for five seconds until the instructor came over the loudspeaker and asked whether there were any alibi firers. The lane safeties gave him the thumbs-up. Once it was clear, they were told to remove the sandbags for their next round of firing, which was unsupported. Their instructor told them to load their ten-round magazine, watch their sector, switch from safe to semi, and fire when ready.

Shooting from an unsupported position was hard for some, but Walker did even better than the last round. He knocked down all ten pop-ups as he had before, but this time they were all head shots. Once he was finished, he placed his weapon back on safe and laid it down as commanded. They were told to get a good kneeling position. He used to catch so much flak from his peers and NCOs because of the way he knelt. The other guys would ask him what the hell he was doing. They would say he looked funny, but he was six foot five with a wide, lean frame. The average guy in his platoon was five foot ten. He towered over most of them. Of course it would look a little weird to most. He would sit on his right foot and extend his left leg until it was almost straight. Then he would place his elbow on the