by T J Bryan
Silvi asked, "Mr. Eldjárn can you look at the isotope patterns on Ammon and tell me when the nuclear devastation may have occurred?"
"Aye aye, Sir" A few moments later Rozel replied. "The radioactive decay signatures from Ammon indicate the nuclear attack occurred between 130 to 120 years ago. Well after the Great War was over. I doubt either Greayson or Unity had anything to do with this destruction. Not that they would really care about toasting someone's only food supply. But I'm pretty sure it was not them."
Silvi nodded her head in agreement. Neither Unity nor Greayson had anything to do with the attack. The question now in Silvi's mind was whoever had done this, were they still subjugating Happy Landing? Had they gone away? Were they in the station or on the planet?
Arast stood at her Captain's chair, "Mr. Eldjárn give me an intense scan and survey of that orbital station. I want to know if it has weapons and if so what kinds. H1 appeared to have only small bore plasma cannons, but that does not mean the station might have other weapons. Can you estimate the station's population and its' capacity for storage. Does it supply the planet below and if so where do its' lifters land?"
Arast sat in her captains chair. "Let's hail that station Mr. Eldjárn."
"Yes Sir. Your comms is open."
Arast held the comms mic in her hand and composed her thoughts. She keyed the comms open. "Ameria Station. This is the Obsidian Commonwealth Navy on a voyage of the restoration of human space and commerce. We come with peaceful intent. We have defeated your attackers at Old Stones. Now we wish to discuss the possibilities of future commerce and trade with the rest of human kind."
Arast looked at Silvi as she released the comms key and waited for a response from the station. A response did not come. Only silence.
"H1, the mushroom shaped warship, is making a move toward us," Rozel said loudly.
Arast looked up to the status vid and saw H1 begin to leave orbit and climb into their general direction. Perhaps it will become an intercept course thought Arast, but then again perhaps not. However she knew that for its' plasma cannon to be effective it must close the distance between the two ships to at least 100 kilometers, and that, given the slow speed of H1 she would not allow to happen. "Pilot Paris, please keep our distance at 80,000 kilometers. But try to remain within sight of the station."
Captain Arast asked, "Mr. Eldjárn, is H1 still venting? Can you see any damage to that ship?"
Rozel replied, "The venting seems to have stopped, but her energy signature is low and getting lower. I suspect that her damaged engines are failing. If H1 pushes herself too hard she might well loose all power."
Arast thought H1 must have seen what we did to the Shorts at Old Stones. H1 was an old ship and had already been damaged, why would they approach something as so obviously deadly as a Destructor class warship. Arast vowed not to become a murderer for if she fired even a dialed down 'K' at H1 it would simply be murder. No she would keep her distance, and if Happy Landing refused to discuss commerce she and the Sigrún would simply leave. Human space provided many opportunities and wasting time here would prevent relief to others. She gave herself 24 hours to break through or she would leave. After a short discussion Silvi agreed.
After six hours H1 continued its' efforts to close the distance between itself and Ragnarök but Arast kept her distance. Rozel had reported that much of the station was cold and although its' size could easily support 20,000 inhabitants only 15% of the station was warm enough for human habitation. Rozel's intense scan had revealed small bore plasma cannons on the station. They seemed to be of the same type used by H1 and therefore of limited effectiveness at any distance. Probably the cannons were for the prevention of boarding the station rather than overall system defence.
Arast had dismissed half the watch for lunch when Rozel interrupted, "H1 has lost her engines. There was an energy spike and then nothing. A spike like that is indicative of a loss of containment on the reactor. I can see it venting gas from its' engine nacelle. It's just coasting now. I doubt that the engines can be repaired."
"Any distress signal or call for help?" Silvi asked.
"No. I am monitoring all frequencies and I hear nothing."
Arast asked, "Any idea Mr. Eldjárn of the size of the crew on H1?"
"None. I can find no match for that old ship in the EG, which is kind of odd given how comprehensive the EG is. H1 must be a survivor of some system not known to the editors of the EG."
"If her engines are down she cannot discharge her plasma cannons can she?" asked the Captain.
Rozel responded, "That depends on the size of her capacitors. If the capacitors are large and fully charged she might be able to get off one good shot. That's about it."
Silvi looked at the vid screen as H1 careened uncontrollably out of the system. Another ship lost to the void she thought.
"We have an incoming message from the orbital station. Putting it on speaker now." called out Rozel.
"... and please, please save The Spear of Landing. Save her. Who you are, we know not, but please, in the name of Otho save the Spear." The message continued but the essence of the request was unmistakable.
Arast stood again to hide her nervousness. "Set us a course to H1 Pilot Paris. Crew you are to arm yourselves with plasma pistolas. Mr. Eldjárn ask Sigrún to proceed in system and protect our flank. This is a rescue mission crew, but we must proceed with all caution. The crew of H1 may welcome our response in their moment of distress, or they may well choose to kill us. Let us proceed with caution but also with compassion."
In less than a hour Ragnarök approached the mushroom shaped Spear of Landing and came up alongside. Rozel gave a running description of the warship as they approached. "She is very old and I can see separations in her plating. Perhaps from the recent fight, but more likely from many small impacts over a long period of time. Her engines are toast, and they are bleeding into the void. The engines are in the stem of that thing and I imagine that the crew lives somewhere in the cap. I doubt that the Spear will ever fly again. I can see a nonstandard hatch on the portside of the cap toward the center. We might be able to connect but only briefly. Any hatch connector we have will leak like a sieve. If the crew wants to come aboard Ragnarök they will have to move fast. The vacuum is unforgiving."
Arast took a long look at the old ship. " Mr. Eldjárn hail the Spear again. Tell them we are here to rescue their crew. We intend no harm. If they oppose us in any way we shall leave them to their fate in the cold of the void. But please stress compassion, and a sincere desire to help."
As they approached the Captain asked Rozel another question. "If that ship hits us with a plasma bolt how much damage could they do to Ragnarök?" Arast was standing and intensely focused on the vid screen and the approaching ship.
Rozel responded, "To a Destructor of our class very little damage. In fact no real damage at all. They might blister our paint a bit but that is all. However one can never overlook the possibility of a lucky hit on something vital. Lets keep our reaction jector ports out of the way and come in at a 90 degree angle. Once we are within a hundred meters if they shoot they will cause more damage to themselves than to our armour plating."
"Very good Mr. Eldjárn. Pilot Paris bring us in at a 90 degree angle on jectors. When we are within a hundred meters level out and prepare to dock as best we can. I want all of the crew except our pilot and the defense station to assemble at the main hatch. Pistolas and plasma rifles please. We have no idea of whom we will meet or how many. Assume the worst, but do exercise caution. This is a rescue mission. Silvi will you lead the crew while I remain on station?"
Silvi nodded.
Twenty minutes later Ragnarök was alongside the Spear of Landing. The ship had not fired its' plasma cannon. Ragnarök was equipped with a basic 'all purpose' hatch ring but everyone knew that 'all purpose' meant it works for only a little while before failing in a spectacular fashion. As they stabilized their flight alongside the Spear the Ragnarök deployed the hatch ring. W
ithin seconds the hatch of the Spear blew open and six figures scrambled into the short tunnel and toward Ragnarök. Moments later all six fell onto the deck of the cargo hold of Ragnarök. They were encased in stiff bulky ship suits and as they landed on the deck Silvi immediately closed the hatch and the cargo hold re-pressurized. Two of the six managed to stand, but the others remained prostrate on the deck. Two were moving about in a manner that Silvi interpreted as intense pain.
One of the standing removed his helmet. He was young, perhaps no more than 20. His skin was pale paper thin and his veins were visible across his face. Eyes were green and his hair was completely white but very dirty. All Silvi could think of was that here was someone who lived in darkness and was never exposed to light.
"Are you well?" asked Silvi. "Can we assist you and your crew. We have medical facilities aboard."
The young man was clearly stunned and at a loss for words. Silvi assumed he had command of Standard English or its' derivates. Moments later he responded. "Crew, help, sick."
The bio-hazard claxon sounded and a red light high above the main hatch door began to blink. Silvi looked about, but realized that if the ship were contaminated there was little she could do at this point. Just press on she thought and hope that the meds in the doc-box were sufficient to ensure their survival.
Silvi motioned six of the crew to gather up the Spear's fallen and to begin removing their stiff ship suits. The young man appeared alarmed at the crew's action, but he remained still. Silvi could see no weapons but with the contamination claxon sounding she could not relax. The Ragnarök crew struggled with the unfamiliar ship suits but eventually they had freed the remaining crew of the Spear. Two were badly injured with burns and deep wounds. Silvi's crew knew what to do an immediately carried the wounded to their doc-in-a-box for treatment. The young man, who was obviously in command, wanted to protest, but Silvi held up her hand and motioned that he and the remaining Spear crew should remain on the deck in the hold.
"I am Commodore Silvi Karrslon of the Obsidian Commonwealth Navy. To whom do I have the honor of addressing?"
The young man looked confused and Slivi took a look at the remaining three crewmembers of the Spear. They were all young. Very young and very dirty. The young man, who Silvi decided was the Captain was the oldest of them all. The youngest crewmember of the Spear could not have been older than twelve or thirteen. Silvi shook her head in amazement.
The captain of the Spear finally responded. "We Spear of Landing. Saved us at Stones of Olde, You. For thank we do. But do you kill us? Are you Sloans or Megras? Kill us not beg you. Beg you."
Silvi replied. "Safe. No kill. Take you home to Happy Landing. No harm to you."
The young man looked relieved but still sceptical and Silvi felt comfortable with the plasma pistola strapped to her waist.
"You have a name?"
"Yes. Call me Ervin. Ship's Boss of Spear of Landing. Ervin"
Silvi was uncertain if 'Ervin' was a title or a name, but at least she now knew what to call the young man.
Silvi held the four crew of the Spear on the cargo deck as Ragnarök proceed down planet toward the station. No sense in spreading the contamination any further that it already entered the ship. The crew of the Spear was exhausted and as the hold of Ragnarök warmed up two fell asleep slumped against the bulkhead. They were clearly exhausted and spent. Silvi had coffee and tea brought to them as well as a few hot snacks, but they refused to accept the offerings. Silvi could see deep suspicion on their faces. Perhaps later she thought. It was best now to leave things just as they were.
Six hours later they approached the orbital station of Happy Landing. They were unopposed and as they scanned the docks of the station they saw a dozen different docking systems, one of which would fit Ragnarök's hatch. During docking the station remained silent, but as they approached the station the docking rings became intensely illuminated which made docking easier. Clearly someone on the station wanted a successful docking and recovery of the crew of Spear.
Silvi was coming to the conclusion that these isolated systems trusted no strangers. Such distrust ran deep and must have been well justified in the past. This might well be a barrier to re-establishing links to civilization and the human sphere.
Chapter Sixty Three
Polis System - Mist - Year 3246. October 18 ET: 13:33
While the Mist travelled through the tunnel from Himmer to Polis, Farn reviewed what was known about the Polis system. Before the Great War and the descent of The Dark, Polis had been a major industrial system producing precision machinery, engineering equipment, transport equipment such as atmospheric flight vehicles, electronics, pharmaceuticals, and medical equipment. The output of Polis would surely have made it a target during the war. The system itself contained eighteen planets, including one goldilocks planet, two gas giants, and several mineral rich planetoids from which raw materials were extracted. Polis had only one entry portal and that from Himmer, and one exit portal which lead to the dead system of Pope Leo XXI. Polis was on the knot line from Cranmore to its' return path, but the system was not a crossroads or major entrepot.
After five days the Mist emerged into the Polis system. Immediately Rozel Eldjárn called out, "We have significant electromagnetic activity in this system. Broadcast radio and vid waves included. The amount would be typical of a moderately advanced system. I am detecting 'M' wave scans."
Farn stood. "Can you grab some of those frequencies so we can take a look at the local vids? Also, Pilot Paris we will as usual remain on the fringe of this system until we have assessed the system status."
Before Farn could finish Rozel called out. "We are being hailed."
Well, thought Farn, whoever lives here certainly has good early warning and detection systems. "Put the hail on speaker please."
"... warship. I repeat; identify yourself unknown warship and state your intentions. Polis is not an open system. I repeat identify yourself and your intentions."
Farn sat back in her Captain's chair, "Give me the comms Mr. Eldjárn" After thinking a moment Farn responded. "This is the Obsidian Commonwealth Navy ship Mist on a voyage of human recovery from The Dark. Our mission is to re-establish human contact throughout human space and bring about peaceful commerce and trade. We intend no harm. We seek only knowledge and the potential of trade between human systems within the galaxy."
As Farn spoke she realized she really needed a better description of the purpose of the OCN, but she would have to work on that later.
Moments later Polis responded. "If your intent is peaceful, you are welcome. However you are to remain where you are and you are not to enter further into the Polis system. In approximately two days prepare to be boarded and inspected by Polis Frontier Security and Revenue. Polis Control Out."
Boarded and inspected thought Farn. Well if a Polis ship had entered Jamon space she would well insist on the same procedure so the Mist would reasonably accommodate their request.
Farn responded affirmatively before returning the comms to Rozel. "Now let's get some of those vids up on the screen so we have some idea of the culture this system has."
Moments later four windows opened on the vid screen each with a different vid presentations. One was obviously a drama as beautifully attired people acted in a rather overwrought manner in some kind of grand setting. Another was some kind of sports gathering where young men kicked a ball around a large field watched by perhaps a hundred thousand spectators. Another broadcast was clearly some kind of planetary weather report, and on the other channel was a speech by what could only be a military leader wearing the most outrageous uniform Farn had ever seen. The leader was short and obese. No taller than five foot, but easily weighing 130 kilos. But it was his officers cap that was easily 20 centimetres tall and at the top plumes of feathers climbed another 30 centimetres that was laughable to Farn. His uniform was a kind of shiny gold cloth and his chest was festooned with enough medals to cast a cannon ball. Although the sound was off Farn
watched in fascination as the general harangued an enormous crowd which responded to each of his gestures and poses with ecstatic shouting and group singing. Farn was uncertain if this was drama, perhaps historical, or simply today's reality. Only time would tell. They had two days to monitor Polis and Farn intended to use every moment to understand what was clearly an intact industrial system.
As they waited and Farn watched the vid stream she noticed that the 'General', and that is what she chose to call the pompous fat man with the plumed hat, presented a trophy at the end of the sports event. Later she saw, in what she assumed was a melodrama, the Generals picture in prominent places on the set of the drama. A close up of the lead character further revealed a pin on her chest which portrayed the General in a dramatic pose. And at the end of the weather forecast the vid played martial music and portrayed a military parade in which the General reviewed massed troops. Well thought Farn, this is not some historical drama, but clearly today's reality on Polis.
Farn decided to watch one particularly detailed vid of what turned out to be the life of the General. She had Rozel bring up the audio and the crew sat fascinated by the lengthy tale. The General, who was called 'The Select of the Gods,' was born on a high mountain top by the immaculate conception of his father, 'The Magnificent Son of the Gods', and the Moon Goddess Meeralou." Some combination thought Farn. No wonder the General was the Select of the Gods, or as Farn abbreviated it the 'SOG'. The vid showed a precocious child who made predictions about the future including weather, eclipses of the moon, earthquakes, and even insurrections against his father and the state. All were predicted with great accuracy and in sufficient time that the forces of the father could counter the evil of those malefactors who threatened civic order. By twelve the child was literally 'radiant' in all the vids. A clever video trick thought Farn, usually seen only in old horror movies or pictures depicting angels. But there he was, a child with an angelic, if obese pose, delivering bounty to his people. Eventually the father died, murdered in his old age by some faction called the Garn's. The funeral section of the vid went on and on and Farn lost attention half way through the repetitive segments of millions crying and weeping and the obese SOG prostrating himself before the body of his father. However after almost an hour of weeping the SOG rose and taking up a sword set out to slay the Garn. The child SOG was shown slashing and stabbing Garns to great numbers. How a single child of that age and obesity could even pick up the heavy sword astounded Farn, but Mr Eldjárn pointed out that all the video was computer generated and none of it was real.
