Planetfall, p.1
Planetfall, page 1
Tech Mage
PLANETFALL
D D Hart
To my family Jutta, Carina and Clive for their patience, help and inspiration. It has been a long journey.
CONTENTS
Planet P5469
Altar in Colmar - P5469
Erech in Hvar - P5469
Nazare In Soria - P5469
Erech in Hvar - P5469
Erech in Hvar
Erech in Hvar
Temple Mount, Altar
Hvar
Hvar
Freeport
Tarnow - The Narn Ridings
Freeport
Altar
Freeport havar
Balasore Castle
Hvar
Darkhorn Pass
Dyersburg in Balsoria
Darkhorn Pass
Altar in Colmar
Erech in Hvar
Darkhorn Road, Balsoria
Balasore
Balasore
Isford River Road
Balasore
Erech in Hvar
Isford River Road
Balasore
Erech in Hvar
Balasore
Isford River Road
Balsoria
Dyersburg
The Senate, Altar
Balasore
Balasore
Balsoria & Hvar
Freeport in Hvar
Characters
Planet P5469
"Warning! Unidentified infrared contact," announced the starship's AI, in a measured tone that completely failed to convey the seriousness of the situation; for space had, hither to, been completely empty, a dark barren canvas, untouched except by man. Nothing more was expected.
Kiera's heartbeat exploded loud in her ears and she yelled in alarm as the commander fired the vessel's main drives without warning. "Dex . . ." she started, before the vicious acceleration robbed her of speech.
Huge volumes of fuel were dumped into fusion tubes and raw power blasted from exhaust vents, immediately translating into thrust. The Unified Nations Starship Cochise leapt away from the approaching projectile on a vector taking it out into clear space and away from the planet being surveyed.
On the engineer's couch the OSC journalist Sarah 'Seeker' Rice's scream was lost amid the shrieking roar of the engines as restraints automatically expanded and body-formed around her, protecting her from the rampant acceleration but leaving her arms free and clawing wildly in the air. Any thoughts were blown away by the unexpected force flattening her into the chair's embrace, cutting off her breathing with a weight on her chest like a raging bull elephant intent on stamping her into oblivion; though a tiny segment of her mind did perversely remind her that this crew had an unlucky reputation, with not a single successful colonisation credited to them despite being one of the longest serving teams on the programme.
Between the two women and on the third acceleration couch lay the commander, Dexter Keaton, eyes welded shut as he focused exclusively on the data being fed directly into his mind through a tiny piece of technology called the netlink. His mind accessed the miniature implant that was inserted just inside his skull and physically interfaced with his brain, allowing him to transmit or receive wireless thoughts, commands or data, to and from other people or machines that possessed the same technology. When people first experienced it, they inevitably likened it to telepathy, which was fair, yet the technology offered so much more, like data storage and image transmission. It was essential to the ability of such a small crew in running Cochise. His netlink connected to the starship's AI and he ordered it to search for the source of the - he presumed - missile, even as he wondered what the crap was going on.
In the crew module, Emmett - the ship's engineer - cannoned into the bunk superstructure and made a grab for the centre berth, as he tried to struggled through a weightless nightmare towards the bridge.
Three seconds had elapsed since contact with the alien object.
"Projectile at eight gees and rising," reported Coach - the ship's AI processor.
Cochise was passing through five, with the bridge crew pinned into their couches and using the netlink to communicate - speech now impossible and with all their physical efforts concentrated on breathing.
In the rear of the ship, Emmett lost his desperate grip on the bunk and was smashed back spread-eagle against the rear wall of the module, where the ferocious acceleration pinned him remorselessly, limbs spread out, blood from his mouth matting in his short black beard and splashing across the grey wall. His netlink implant crashed with the impact - cutting him off from the unfolding events.
How did that get behind us? I've not seen a frigging thing! netlinked Kiera, with the empathy processor adding every nuance of her shock and fear to the transmission.
Coach, display tactical screens now! demanded the commander, before linking back to Kiera. Where's that come from? You must have seen something!
I told you the sensors were glitching, she yelled back, though the link moderated the volume to protect the recipient. I told you! I haven't seen shit out there!
"Impact in twenty eight seconds," offered the AI emotionlessly, and quite unaffected by the horrendous pressures being exerted on the crew.
Kiera accessed the main sensor suit and scanned the area of space from where the projectile had originated. Nothing! That can't be, not unless it was some kind of a stealth orbital weapons platform. Shit! Fear seared her guts as she imagined space around them littered with invisible devices, but she manipulated the powerful visual sensor array and tied it in to the origin of the projectile and maxed up on the zoom settings. Her heart stopped. The echo of its last beat still ringing inside her head, her chest aching like to burst, but there before her - impossibly - a matt-black shape from which light seemed to slither away or almost bend around. A shape that showed up on none of their other sensors - a ship of destruction emerging from the night-side of the planet.
She must have seen something! thought Dexter frantically before linking with the AI.
Coach, evaluate alternate escape vectors! Jesus, if we can't make clear space soon, he thought, we'll never be able to jump away to safety - not this close to the planet. Should be called P13 for all the luck it had brought them he cursed, not P5469; but then all three conscious crewmembers gasped as the external sensors registered another contact.
"Warning! Second infrared contact," announced the AI.
But space around the contact point erupted in a sudden and massive ball of flame and radiation. Secondary explosions detonated inside the initial destruction and chunks of material and hardware appeared - to race off on random trajectories, some turning into shooting stars inside the atmosphere of the planet, while others disappeared into the vastness of space.
Naturally the radar and infrared monitors went crazy, as sensor arrays mounted inside Cochise's hull struggled to cope with the intensity of the light emissions, and then to register and track the sudden deluge of new objects. Dexter felt his mind going into overload as he attempted to evaluate events, but as soon as he realised that none of the new objects were a threat - he simply ignored them and concentrated on evasion manoeuvres.
What the hell was that? He netlinked to Kiera.
"No alternative vectors available at this time," added the AI helpfully.
Kiera stared in astonishment at the empty visual array screens. The black ship was gone. Destroyed. How? The main sensors could follow the debris field left behind, but why not before? Shit! she panicked, an alien ship! An arse-kicking bitch of an alien ship!
It was a fucking ship! Netlinked Kiera. It just fucking exploded!
What!
Then her eyes noted the progress of the projectile. It was gaining on them fast.
Dex, we can't outrun it!
The journalist was gasping for air. Terrified by the horrendous weight on her chest that fought every attempt to draw breath, while at the same time she desperately tried to pull her arms down, frantic to ease the frightening strain from having them pinned remorselessly above her head by the ship's ferocious acceleration. She hadn't a clue what was happening and couldn't imagine how the crew could breath and fly the starship.
No way, thought the commander, there are no aliens, we’ve never found any, we are alone out here; but the thing is gaining frighteningly fast.
The commander ran through his options. In deep space, he would easily jump away to safety, but they still had twenty-five seconds to run before they were far enough away from the gravitational influence of the planet to execute the manoeuvre. Linking into the navinet, he ran simulations designed to gain time, but whatever he did - he failed. Damn! The thing was fast. He needed somewhere to hide. Something nice and thick to put between him and the projectile so it couldn't . . .
Of course! Excitement, relief and desperation all surged in his veins as he fired a barrage of his scarce counter measure pods from the rear of the starship and then loaded a new flight vector - one that simply hadn't occurred to the linear-natured AI.
The pods dumped out radar confetti and heat emissions to generate an illusion of Cochise, while the starship raced away. Five seconds later the projectile smashed through the deception without exploding and still accelerating. Its sensors wasted seconds scanning on anticipated tracks before locating the target as it completed a hammerhead turn below it, vast quantities of radiation pouring from its exhausts and generating horrendous gee forces. More valuable time was wasted as the alien missile hurled itself through a massive turn, exaggerated because of its phenomenal speed, before settling
When Cochise had executed its course change the gee forces had initially dropped off and Emmett found himself rotating slightly, only to be slammed into the ceiling of the crew module as the starship accelerated away again. He screamed as the impact cracked two of his ribs and his netlink implant, which had rebooted, crashed again. Then, with his left leg twisted over his right the appalling force slowly opened up his knee joint, the pain beyond belief as it finally dislocated - and with his mind yammering, he lost all grasp on sanity and consciousness.
On the bridge Seeker grappled with making sense of events. But the speed at which they were playing out and the vicious stresses on her body defeated her, and she barely had time to wonder what had happened to the boring tedium of the mission and the simmering hostility that Kiera scarcely kept in check. Nothing in the pre-mission training had prepared her for this pain. For being smothered and torn apart at the same time. Unable to call for help. To be so pathetic. She had never been powerless like this before. Bored yes, or excited as the story-chase unfolded. Always searching, seeking for the truth – and she wondered again why she had been selected for this assignment. What hot story or corruption could be found out here, in this, this soap opera? What prize-winning article could she conjure out of the normality of surveying new planets for colonisation? Especially when this crew had such a poor record in finding any – although this one, P5469, had been looking promising. But what the Hell was happening?
Kiera struggled to think clearly, blood deprivation slowing her thoughts to a crawl as the colossal acceleration squeezed her body organs and reduced the flow of internal fluids. Alarm turned to fear as she realised where their new course would take them. Dex . . . what?
We can't outrun it, can't hide anywhere - but if it follows us deep into the atmosphere its sensors might burn up - before it catches us.
Will that work?
The commander's noncommittal grunt was transmitted just fine by the netlink.
And then what?
We lose it and pull back up into orbit -
Kiera didn't like it, but she preferred any chance to the certainty of death. I'll pull in our forward sensor arrays, if I don't they'll fry. If there's anything else up there we'll all fry anyway! she added to herself pessimistically. Jesus Christ - aliens?
Outside on the hull the sensors retracted smoothly into their recesses, and their protective plates slid shut across the openings.
Emmett's dropped off the net again, added Kiera, and he's not registering in any of the bunks. God only knows what's happening if he's not strapped down! And she cursed the journalist - but for her Emmett would be strapped down on his couch and safe. Bitch! Though she conveniently forgot that Emmett had left the bridge for drinks of his own accord. What use was she anyway? she wondered. What was the point in recording a deep-space mission if it endangered the crew? Dumb-arse, upper echelon decision makers, she fumed even as fear seared her bowels, intensifying her anger. Fucking eye-candy, she raged, her dislike of the attractive golden-brown skinned journalist overflowing and changing to hate that swirled within her mind and paralysed her, until the commander's netlink message cut in.
There's nothing we can do about Emmett while we're accelerating. We're lucky anyone's locked down at all.
Cochise plunged deeper into the thickening atmosphere, enveloped by a glowing red corona. Re-entry friction generating tremendous hull temperatures to pit and burn away layers of insulation foam. An intense trail of heat and turbulence stretched out behind the starship to combine with the white-hot emissions from the fusion drives as it continued to accelerate, compensating for the air braking effect of re-entry; punching its way through the atmosphere by brute force.
The alien projectile bore down through the thickening atmosphere after the scout ship, heat and temperature soaring around it, fragile lens sensors melting and flaking away, never having been designed to operate in such hostile conditions. Yet, with its last reserve of propellant, and running completely blind, the missile smashed into the side of the starship.
The narrow warhead ploughed through the thick outer insulation layer and screeched across the hull beneath it, before punching through and into the gap between the inner and outer skins. The bulkier and spent drive unit - acting as a destructive brake - disintegrated in an explosion of incandescent fragments leaving the remaining alien cylinder ricocheting between the walls. Squeezing by a small subsystems hub, slashing through a core power conduit in a cascade of blue-white sparks, before impaling itself through a mounting bracket - its shattered tip fused into the bio-router that was secured there. Thick black-green smoke choked the hull cavity with a stench like burnt flesh boiling off the superheated router. Flames erupted only to be extinguished as all extraneous cavity matter was vented out into the void.
Light flared briefly in the hull cavity as the rear of the alien cylinder shattered into a profusion of razor sharp silver splinters that exploded outwards with the majority shattering harmlessly against the inner and outer hulls, and these crystalline fragments too were sucked out into the vacuum of space. But not all of the splinters were destroyed and some, as intended by alien design, punched through the inner hull and slashed viciously through the open spaces within the starship.
Cochise shuddered under the impact and explosion, the force and imparted energy of the collision spinning the starship into a deeper re-entry attitude, with the booming sound heard clearly on the bridge. Flaming chunks of insulation and ionised hull fragments scattered in the ship's wake like a storm of celestial fireworks seared across the heavens. Power and control deserted the fusion drives, abruptly cutting off the laser-bright exhaust trail and subjecting the ship to violent deceleration as the cost of piercing the atmosphere kicked in. The halo surrounding the scout ship exploded into an orange-red fireball as the angle of descent increased to a lethal thirty-eight degrees.
"Hull breach detected, midship, section eighteen," warned the AI. "Initiating auto-hull sealing procedures now."
Dexter and Kiera groaned as the savage deceleration hit, compressing their internal organs and preventing them from breathing, with only the wrap-round extrusions of the couches saving them from being hurled straight into the main view screen. Cabin and console lights dimmed out as power leached away from non-essential systems, while temperatures soared with the environmental systems dropping off-line. Cracking and popping sounds whiplashed across the bridge as the hull shuddered under the vicious stress. The sudden drop in internal cabin pressure left the crew gasping with pain as their ears adjusted, and none of them noticed the flash of silver as the alien splinters slashed from left to right across the bridge and shattered against the far wall.
On his couch Dexter yelled in surprise as a single splinter pierced the fleshy part of his left forearm, pinning it against the couch extrusions that held him fast. His body writhed impotently against the captive restraints as a hot stabbing pain seared his arm, and he stared down at the object that skewered him to his seat, unaware of its origins and ignorant of its true purpose. Indeed, his first thought was that it must be an errant hull fragment blown into the starship by the force of the missiles impact, yet the flexing of his muscles caused the suddenly brittle splinter to snap off and fall away, and the pain seemed to lessen.
"Power and control failure to main drive engines. Unable to re-route power at this time," advised Coach.
The commander's attention snapped back to flying the starship and he scanned the net, horrified at the level of system failures breaking out everywhere, but it was not only failures, some systems were powering up when they shouldn't, while others just died. Jesus, what the hell is happening, he wondered, and called up the ship schematic and located the impact area, noting the severed power conduit and the dying fusion drives. He raised the navinet and with alarm realised that their current trajectory would cause them to burn up before they could achieve full re-entry into the planet's atmosphere.
Coach. Initiate planetary re-entry control, he ordered via his netlink, ignoring the throbbing in his left arm.
