The End of Winter -- Chapter 1

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 16^th, 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!