Into the Black: Odyssey One (63 page)

In some mindless instinct, the Drasin had destroyed everything they needed to live, at least as far as the drone had been able to tell, When the atmosphere bled off and the heat from the dying world began to cool, so did the drones. While many of the floating, kicking, things were still alive in the orbit that used to hold a planet, the readings indicated that they were rapidly losing their internal heat, and dying as well.

The Admiral cleared her throat, bringing Eric back to the moment.

“Go on, Captain.”

“The Drasin,” He said after a moment, “Are, in my opinion, Bio-weapons.”

Gracen’s eyebrow went up, prompting him to continue.

“The evidence is there, Admiral,” He said, leaning forward. “They were just too perfectly suited to attacking the Colonials. Laser resistant on the frequencies their enemy used both in space and on the ground. They were tailor made for a job, Admiral… And I don’t believe that any species would naturally select for suicide the way these things did. No, Ma’am… The Drasin are just a weapon.”

“I fail to see, Captain,” The Admiral said grimly, “Why you would not be afraid of them for that reason.”

“Because… Admiral, I’ve never in my life been afraid of a gun.” Eric said firmly. “It’s the person with their finger on the trigger that worries me.”

He let that statement float for a moment, and went on. “The Drasin don’t bother me much, Admiral. We can take them, with a minimal lead time to start producing combat ships and defences. But somewhere out there, there is someone who pointed them at the Colonials and pulled the trigger.”

Eric Weston looked the Admiral in the eyes than, “And that person, Admiral, I’m terrified of.”

END

About the Author

Evan Currie is the self-published author of two books, Thermals and Odyssey One. . A long time fan of science fiction, his love of epic storylines led him to put several million words onto the net in the pursuit of fanfiction stories, and eventually led to the novel you just finished.

You can connect with Evan Currie online at :

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/tenhawk

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001444124776

Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/EvanCurrie

Or at his home on the net :

http://www.tenhawkpresents.com

Appendix One

When I wrote the first words to Odyssey One, I began here. It’s the original intro to the story, but by nearly universal agreement it’s also one of the weakest bits I’ve ever written. I left it in place originally because despite everything I tried I was too close to the story to effectively rewrite it.

However, after almost 2000 copies sold, and many people telling me the same thing over and over again, I have to say I goofed. So this version of Odyssey One doesn’t begin with the original prologue, but with the introduction of the Terran characters instead. I’m not sure it’s much better when you step back and look at the whole, but it is an easier bit to start reading.

Still, if you want to see how the book original started, read on.

Desperation has an odour.

It’s a sense of the situation that, paradoxically, can be smelt even in places an odour simply cannot go. Even in the vacuum of space, a place no scream can be heard, the well-tuned nose can smell the desperation of men who have given up all hope.

People bring it with them wherever they go, spread it like flames through a dry field. Sometimes, they even bring it to places no person has ever gone before. Once there, it is a smell that never really goes away.

In this case a system that had been long since sanitized by the searing radiation pouring from its white giant primary, any life that once may have existed within its confines long since passed to the next adventure. Within its deep well, however, the movement of a ragtag fleet of battle-scarred ships raced to escape the sucking pull of the star’s gravity, the sickly odour of desperation clinging to them like barnacles to a sea going ship.

In unrelenting pursuit, three dark battle cruisers slowly gained on the fleeing ships, sharp crackling energy flowing through the pursuer’s multitude of energy canons. In only hours, the system already reeked of desperate men and women, though no life had ever evolved there, and none ever would.

On the lead ship of the running fleet, the scene was one of controlled chaos. Instrument panels had burst with showers of sparks and power conduits erupted in jets of flames. The crew doggedly held their positions, barely flinching as the white hot rain engulfed them. The ship’s Captain, having lost his chair to a particularly violent explosion, gripped the back of his helmsman’s seat, desperately calculating the next evasion as he tried to avoid being thrown to the deck.

“Tiran, try to get us some more speed using the gravity of that gas giant.”

The helmsman didn’t respond beyond a gruff nod of his head and the sudden hunching of his shoulders as he changed the ship’s course vector slightly, gripping the control sticks firmly in his hands. Any acknowledgment would have fallen on deaf ears anyway; the Captain had already switched his attention to another station.

Minor variations of the scene were in evidence all across the bedraggled fleet, each commanding officer desperately trying to gain distance from their pursuers. All they needed was to free themselves from the white giant’s gravity well before their pursuers caught up with them, and then they could hop to FTL and be safe for a time at least.

“Drop all Atomics, set them to arm once the last of our fleet has passed,” The fleet commander ordered, his voice firm as it crackled through the fleet wide network.

Across the fleet, ships began spewing small pods from their rear compartments, effectively covering their retreat with a nuclear wall. A short time after the last ship had passed; small lights began ominously activating as the pods were remotely armed, if there had been air to conduct it a quiet beep would have been heard from each of the lethal pods.

One by one the fleet used the gravity of the gas giant to sling themselves to higher velocities, burning their engines beyond the safety limit to gain every precious second they could buy. Mere moments after the maneuver, it was obvious that it had been in vain, the pursuing ships were closing the gap quickly with their relentless pace.

“Put the rear cameras on the screen. Magnify them, I want to see this,” Said the fleet commander.

On the screen the enemy appeared as rapidly growing dots, swelling as they approached the last hope of the ragtag fleet. On the ship’s combat display, the mines were blinking bright white as the enemies ships entered into their range. For a time nothing happened as the mines programming allowed the vessels to enter completely within the field before the warheads armed themselves.

Then the view screen simply went dark, its internal failsafe’s automatically tripped as the blinding light and radiation of the multiple blasts swept through the fleet, fatally irradiating several ships that hadn’t had enough energy remaining to mount an effective defence screen. The screen flickered back to life as the system re-booted, showing the afterimage of the blinding light until the ship’s computer adjusted. Slowly, out of the blob of blinding light, the screen cleared and the crew slumped from their positions of hopeful anticipation.

The ships were still there, damaged to be sure, perhaps even severely, but they were still there - still in pursuit.

A hurried conference was spat, back and forth by the ships communications arrays, the desperation of the situation forcing the hands of those swept away by it. The small, ragtag formation burst apart as each ship began pulling hard for freedom along independent vectors in the hopes that at least one would clear the gravity well and live to report back.

The three pursuing ships likewise split, each vectoring to cover an equal area of space as they managed to catch up to the slower of their targets. As each vessel was overtaken, a fierce, but brief firefight lit the surrounding vacuum. Lasers, particle beams and missiles screamed through the soundless wastes in search of their programmed targets.

The fleeing ships began to slip further out of the grasp of their pursuers, forcing the hunters to let loose their hounds. Swarms of fighter craft poured from the ships, arcing in pursuit of their quarry, closing the distance in mere moments and engaging the fleeing vessels.

On board the fleeing cruiser the Fleet Commander knew that he had lost, and could only hope that one of the other ships would succeed in making the run for freedom as he watched the wheeling fighters come for his ship.

“Fire!”

The cruiser opened up on the incoming fighters, vaporizing several in the first barrage, but there were simply too many for them to handle. If the ship had been in full fighting trim, then it might have been a different story. Unfortunately his ship hadn’t been at one hundred percent, even before they had been ambushed. Among his people, the Captain was an oddity at best, a born warrior from a society of artists and philosophers. His ship had required routine maintenance for months but was too far down the docket to receive it. It was ironic really, they had recently equipped the fleet with the best weaponry they could devise but no one had bothered to simply refit the ancient engines of the ageing cruiser. The attackers had found easy prey and they knew it.

Outside, the battle raged on as the fighters slowly picked the ship apart, component by component. They levelled power nodes, weapons’ emplacements, and sensor pods with methodical efficiency.

He knew when it was time to give in, he was a practical man. Despite how hard it was to admit he cleared his throat and gave the order, “Abandon ship! All hands to the life pods!” The Captain’s voice rang out through the ship, through the areas that still had a minimum of emergency power.

Pods burst clear of the ship as they were blasted away by controlled explosions, their flight being covered by the slow, automatic, firing of the ships guns on computer control. The ship’s command center was rocked as each pod blasted clear, but the Captain paid it no mind. He just stared at the cracked view screen and watched the last wave of enemy fighters wheel toward him. Closer and closer they came, the ship rocking with the first wild shots as they slipped in on a low strafing run, but he waited and watched. Just as the bulk of the fighters slipped along the hull, he jammed his fist down onto an ominous red button and uttered a word that would have landed him in a re-education center back home.

Outside the fighters were just completing their run when their instruments went wild. The pilots craned to see what was happening and were enthralled by the scene below them. The cruiser’s hull simply began to bubble, centered at the stern of the ship at first but spreading like lightning across the ship’s surface. Finally the bubbles exploded outward in a massive rush of energies that even the lead fighters couldn’t escape. One by one they were engulfed in the tsunami of energy, flaring like matches in a blowtorch as they flickered out of existence.

Across the system the scene was similar, not one of the ships had succeeded in their flight and one by one they were disabled or destroyed by their pursuers. The three pursuing battleships visited each floating wreck in turn, gathering fighters, and sweeping each of the floating hulks with powerful energy beams. Occasionally, an eerie glow would encompass a ship here, or a pod there, growing in intensity for a few moments before streaming across the void and into collector arrays positioned across the attacker’s hull.

Hours later the last of the attackers swept from the system, leaving a barren graveyard floating in their wake. Barren that is until, a few hours later, a solitary pod’s beacon raised its voice and cried out into the bleak darkness for help.

Read on for a sneak peak at Heart of Matter, the sequel to Odyssey One, coming Fall of 2011

The Heart of Matter

Being the Second Voyage of the NAC Odyssey

Liberty Station
Lagrange Four, Earth Orbit

Captain Eric Stanton Weston walked along the gently curving corridor that circled the exterior of the immensity of Space Station Liberty. He had to admit that the sensation of generated artificial gravity felt quite different to him after the time he’d spent on the Odyssey, both within the Sol System and without.

It also jarred his sensibilities to be able to look out on space through horizontally mounted ports, so unlike the few sections of the Odyssey that allowed such a personal view of the expanse. He followed the lines that adorned the floor, mapping out the various areas of the station, watching the rainbow idiot-guides drop off as he climbed through the security zones into Officer Country.

He had an appointment with Admiral Gracen, presumably concerning the new orders for the Odyssey. He hoped that the orders weren’t more of the same, since he’d spent the last three weeks since repairs had been complete working the crew up to an invisible standard that no one appeared willing to tell him.

All of that was the result of his current ‘mixed’ esteem within the military and political realities of the North American Confederation, he supposed. He, and much of the Odyssey crew, unfortunately, were currently what one might call ‘odd ducks’. They were too valuable, both politically and experience-wise, to be tossed away. However there was a growing community within the political and military community that harbored ill will toward them for bringing the Earth, at least marginally, into a larger universe that appeared quite willing to kill them all.