From a Distant Star Read Online Free Page A

acquire data: assessing the ground for mineral content, and sending out pulses that would survey the inhabitants in the surrounding area to see how highly evolved they were. They’d been visiting some of the planets for many lifetimes, each time monitoring how advanced the citizens had become, how prone to aggression they were, how quickly they were evolving to the higher path. The scouts kept a low profile, avoiding areas that were densely populated, and purposely timing their visits for the least visibility.
    This planet, the one they called Earth, was a curious one. A certain percentage of the inhabitants were so highly evolved some of the elders thought they could be contacted directly and invited to join the coalition. But the evolved inhabitants were few, and didn’t seem to hold any power over the masses, who were, by all accounts, brutal. If they couldn’t be trusted to treat each other well, how receptive would they be to outsiders from another world?
    This scout didn’t care either way. He was new to the job and took pride in doing such important work. Back home, his physical body lay dormant, waiting for his return, a shell without a spirit. Many years earlier, the elders had discovered that, with atmospheric variances from planet to planet, it was easier to separate their consciousness from their body and send just that part along, rather than try to physically adapt each time. Each scout’s consciousness fit within a tiny craft, which required less space and fuel, but their intellect and other senses were still there, which was all that was needed. The mother ship powered their minicraft, but navigation fell to them. They maneuvered using their thoughts and intent, following a prearranged route, but able to deviate if need be.
    When the main ship broke through the atmosphere and reached the targeted position, all twenty of the scouts in the smaller crafts waited for the drop-down signal, ready to cover their assigned areas. The scout had been to Earth before, the last time scanning an arid environment. A “desert,” the inhabitants called it. Although not as abundant in life forms, it had a certain stark beauty. The landscape on this mission was very different. He’d been told they’d encounter different forms of foliage, as well as creatures big and small, but probably not the most highly evolved inhabitants. If they did encounter one of these “people” (as they were known in the local language), they were to leave the area immediately.
    If everything went according to plan, all twenty scouts would return to the original ship at a prearranged time, latching onto their spot against the ship until they reached the next location. Most of them had done this type of mission many times before. It was all very routine.
    At least, that was the plan.
    When a missile came at the main ship after it entered the atmosphere, the new scout was the only one who disengaged. He did it in a panic, violating the rule that said only to detach on command. While the
Seeker
and the other nineteen crafts still attached exploded above him, his small craft spun away, emergency illuminators snapping on as he hurtled downward at a dizzying speed. When he finally hit the ground, it was at an angle, sending his craft skidding and bouncing violently before coming to a stop. He’d lost control and hadn’t even gotten his bearings when the top of the craft opened, its seal damaged by the impact. The illuminators hissed and then crackled. They brightened before dimming, and then went dark completely.
    Being grounded and cut off from the power supply was the worst possible thing that could happen to a scout. The scout’s ability to communicate was limited to the main ship, the
Seeker
, and he relied on it to repower his craft after each mission. As disoriented as he was, he tried to weigh his options. His craft was damaged, the main ship obliterated, leaving him without a way to communicate with his home planet. Worse yet, he’d