The End of Winter
By
Terry Savage
To Karen
Without her tireless indulgence, this book would not
have been possible
Copyright © 2008 by Terry C Savage
The End of Winter
Contents
Chapter 1:Ambush and Rescue
Chapter 2: Confrontation and Survival
Chapter 3: Awakenings
Chapter 4: Damage Assessment
Chapter 5: Return to Space—Phase 1
Chapter 6: Resurrection and Return to Space—Phase 2
Chapter 7: Crew Rotation
Chapter 8: On the Brink of Disaster
Chapter 9: Conference and Revelation
Chapter 10: A Squadron is Born
Chapter 11: The Warlock
Chapter 12: Flat Tire
Chapter 13: Reunion
Chapter 14: Transitions and Preparations
Chapter 15: New Valhalla
Chapter 16: The Shadow Zone
Chapter 17: Incident at Kotzebue
Chapter 18: Valhalla—and a Surprise
Chapter 19: Rebirth of an Empire
Chapter 1:
Ambush and Rescue
July 16th,
2808
Curt Jackson, Commander in the Earth Space Force, was
leading a squadron of 250 TriStar fighters on their way to engage with
renegades. The TriStars weren’t that fast, and they didn’t have much range, but
they were sturdy, and equipped with massive firepower. Three engines at the
rear, each one capable of 50 megawatts sustained power, and 200 MW peak power.
About 75 light years out from the Earth Space Force battle
station Horatio, they spotted a group
of renegade fighters, also about 250 strong. Curt took the lead position, and
ordered his squadron to fire at will. The renegade ships were much smaller, but
also much more maneuverable. Curt took a few hits without damage, and then took
out half a dozen of the renegades. Unfortunately, he didn’t see the group of
ships clustered to attack him at high speed. He was badly hit, and it took out
two of his engines. Only the #3 was still running, and Curt didn’t know what
damage it, or the rest of the ship, might have sustained. He fell back to a
recon position, and ordered the squadron to continue the battle.
Curt tried to console himself that his recon position gave
him a better view of the field, but he didn’t really buy it. His gunner,
Thompson, had been fatally wounded in the attack, in addition to the two
engines he had lost. He was pissed,
and relegated to recon duty out of necessity. Nobody really understood these
renegades…they seemed to enjoy killing for its own sake. Curt continued his
scan, until a dark chill ran down his spine, and his screen lit up like a
Christmas tree.
“Attention! Attention ESF squadron! This is Commander
Jackson. This is not a drill! This is an ambush!
Long range scanners are showing roughly 2500 enemy spacecraft in total. Repeat, 2500
enemy spacecraft. The ones you see are just decoys. Retreat immediately!” The
velocity scanners were even more disturbing…they had almost a 15% speed
advantage. “This is not good. This is not good at all,” Curt said to himself.
Just when Curt figured they were dead, there was a
completely unexpected development. A huge disc shaped ship, at least 200 yards
in diameter, was positioning itself between the attackers, and the Earth Space
Force squadron. It had three enormous engines in an in-line configuration in
the rear, and a bulge at the front for what must be the bridge. The #3 engine
was charred rubble--clearly dead. But, it was worse than that. The giant ship
seemed to have no protective shields! It had huge laser cannon that seemed to
fire non-stop, swatting the attackers like flies, but no shields. Weird. Hole
after hole was punched in the giant by the enemy fleet on suicide hits, while
the giant blasted the small ships out of space like so many bugs.
It seemed like forever, but the battle lasted less than an
hour.
Once the renegade fleet was defeated, the huge craft headed
for the surface, but it was clearly in very serious trouble. Still, Curt could
hear an SOS! There were many versions of the distress signal, but the English
version was clearly understandable. After what these folks had done for his
squadron, there was no way they would be abandoned, not for a second. Curt
pointed his ship sharply into the atmosphere, and tracked their descent.
Curt struggled to keep his wounded fighter stable in the
air. He couldn’t get back to orbit on one engine anyhow, and the control feel
was just…wrong. He was going down. On the ground, there were numerous fires
from the structure of the crashed giant spacecraft, despite the ice and snow on
the ground. He decided to set down near the front of the craft, since the
configuration suggested that’s where the crew would be. If he kept his speed
up, the landing would be very hard. If he slowed down, he risked loss of
control. After his worst two-bounce landing since his training as a student, he
slid to a stop about twenty-five yards from the nose of the giant. Much to his
astonishment, the #3 engine, his last live one, was still running. Not knowing
if he could get it restarted, Curt left it running at idle, and exited the
fighter. The wind was howling fiercely, and blowing snow obscured his vision.
The nose of his TriStar was bent badly, but he had whacked
it down pretty hard, so that was no big surprise. Half the right wing was gone.
The #1 engine was badly beaten up. The #2 looked OK from the outside, but had
made an awful noise when it stopped running during the battle. “Well,” Curt
said, “I don’t think this machine will see space again.” He silently hoped that
at least he would himself.
Turning his attention to the Behemoth (he had to call it
something), he looked through the blinding snow and saw a tall black figure
standing in the snow near the nose, and began to walk towards it. The size
became more obvious the closer he got. It was at least seven feet tall. It was
a creature he had never seen or heard of before, sort of a combination canine
and reptile. Massive. At least 800 lbs. And it was blocking the door. The
creature never moved. As he got closer, he could see it was badly damaged, with
significant burns, dripping blood, and one arm that wasn’t bent quite right.
“Who are you, and what are your intentions?” Curt just about
jumped out of his suit. The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once.
“Commander Curt Jackson, Earth Space Force. We were part of
the same battle you were above this planet. You defended us, when we would have
been slaughtered for sure. When I heard your distress call, I had to see if I
could help.”
“And the rest of your squadron?”
“I sent them running when I saw the size of the enemy fleet,
and told them to go back to report. As you can see my ship’s a little beaten
up.” A pause, and Curt looked around. “You guys don’t look much better off.”
Another pause.
“Commander Jackson, this is Amazona, our Security Officer.
She is very capable and ferociously loyal to her crew. Do not cross her
lightly.”
Good choice, Curt
thought.
“I recognize your craft from the battle,” Behemoth said. “We
know these renegades. Your people are clearly the defenders in this conflict,
and not the aggressors. Amazona, treat him as an ally. Assist if you can, but
otherwise conserve your energy. Rest.”
Curt was still confused about the voice from nowhere. “Who
are you?” he asked.
“You may call me
‘Behemoth’, as you have already chosen to do. I am the ship.”
“So you read minds?”
“Not reliably, and only at very close range. But, it’s the
reason we don’t have a language problem.”
“Well, Amazona needs medical attention right now. I have a
kit in my fighter.”
“No!” Amazona said emphatically, speaking for the first
time. “I will survive at least twenty-four hours with no treatment of any kind.
The others are far worse. Help them first. Now!”
“Uhh, OK. Behemoth, help me out here. Where are they?”
“About ten yards directly toward the bow you will find a
feline life form, seriously injured. His name is Cygnus. He’s our pilot, the
best in the galaxy. I still don’t know how he got us down alive on one balky
engine” Curt winced. Yeah, I get how that
works.
“OK, I’ve found him. Looks like a small tiger. I’ve got a
med survival tent that should fit him fine. Give me a minute.” Cygnus weighed
about 100 lbs, and Curt easily lifted him into the tent. “OK, he’s in. This
thing has two modes, maintenance, and full repair. The power pack is good for
about twenty-four hours on maintenance, but only about four on full repair.
What should I do?”
“Put him on maintenance,” Behemoth said. “His physiology is
close enough to yours that that should be fine. The next crewmember is Chimera,
about 15 yards away, 90 degrees to your left. She’s also seriously injured, but
she was in MedLab when we hit, so she’s not quite as bad as Cygnus. She may be
semi-conscious. Now, this is important. If she tries to resist you, DO NOT try
to restrain her in any way. Clear?”
“Clear,” Curt said. With watery eyes, he realized his
gunner, Thompson, would not be needing his survival tent. He grabbed it from
the fighter, and went to put Chimera inside. Interesting. Two legs, and four
arms. Also feline, furry with a short tail, and about 100 lbs, like Cygnus. The
paws were…odd. Almost out of focus. She moaned a little, but no serious
movement. “Got her,” Curt reported.
“Set her tent to full repair. Her physiology is very
different from yours, and the maintenance setting almost certainly won’t work.”
“You know that only gives us four hours? I don’t have more
of these things.”
“Yes. Do it now.”
“OK, we’re set.”
There was a long pause. “Our last crewmember, Misha, is
probably dead. I can detect no life signs at all. She’s another ten yards from
the ship. I do not know your customs, but we do not abandon our crew lightly.
Please check her.”
“You got it. We don’t abandon ours lightly either”
Curt almost missed Misha in the blowing snow and drifts.
Tiny thing, looked just like a housecat, no more than 10 or 12 lbs. Surely dead
in the cold and snow, but when Curt checked the med scans…the readings were
barely moving. Just above zero, but they were moving.
“Uh, Behemoth,” Curt said, “your scanners must be damaged,
or distorted by the snow. She’s banged up really bad, but she’s still with us.
Barely.”
“Misha…is still alive?” Curt had never felt emotion from a
machine before, but Behemoth seemed to count for more than just a machine,
somehow.
“Barely” Despite the -15º temp, Curt unzipped his space
suit, put Misha inside, and said, “You, my little friend, are coming in here
with me.” Damn, she was cold! Hard to believe she was still alive.
Curt went back to the ship, and now that Amazona had
identified him as a friend, she let him in without challenge. It was the most
seriously damaged bridge he had ever seen. Fire damage everywhere, equipment
smashed, wires dangling. Almost no working lights.
Curt said, “Amazona, I need to talk to Behemoth for a bit.
Are you going to be OK?”
Amazona simply replied, “I require no attention.”
Curt went over to what was obviously the captain’s chair,
tested it for integrity, and sat down. He had no idea where to look, so he just
spoke to the air.
“OK, big guy, now it’s your turn. You are the most messed up
friggin’ machine I’ve ever seen in my life. How bad is it?”
“It’s bad,” Behemoth said. “I’m dying.”
A long pause.
Then Curt said, “I guess I don’t know what that means in
your case. Please explain.”
“I have no operating generating capacity of any kind. I’m
currently using reserve power at the rate of 5 MW. That will exhaust my
reserves in about six hours. Then I will die”
“You are running this huge ship on only 5MW of power?”
“Not really. Most of
the ship is already dead.”
“What are you using power for now?”
“Obviously, to keep my main processors and memory running.
I’m maintaining the temperature in this room at just barely above freezing. I
am scanning for possible incoming spacecraft. That’s about it.”
A long pause. On a hunch, Curt asked, “Amazona, what
temperature can you tolerate for extended periods?”
“I’m good down to about -20º.”
Another pause.
“My space suit is good to -250º, and Misha and I are toasty
warm. The tents are good down to -50º, so Cygnus and Chimera should be fine. I
assume, Behemoth, that you are indifferent to cold temperature, yes?”
“Yes.”
“OK, then drop the temp in here to -10º. And completely stop
the incoming spacecraft scan. Not a lot we can do about it if we see one
anyhow. If you do that, how much does it extend your life?”
“A lot. Instead of six hours, I should be good for 2-3
days.”
“Then do it now. Amazona, are you feeling well enough to
bring Chimera and Cygnus inside?”
“Yes.”
“Then please do that now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Somehow, staring out at the blowing snow and howling wind,
Curt never expected the first encounter with the Ancients to be part of a
desperate race for survival!
