Voyager Dawn
By Richard Patton
Voyager Dawn
Copyright 2018 Richard Patton
All rights reserved.
To my dad, Fred, for making sure the science-fiction is, at least in part, science-fact
To my mom, Ginny, for helping make the characters come to life
And to my brother, Jeff, for making suggestions on how to have badass fight scenes
CONTENTS
Planetfall
The Squad
The Creature
The Expedition
The Bomb
The Colony
The Arrival
The Naldím
The Forest
The Others
The Master
The Range
The Darkness
The Prisoner
The Doctor
The Captain
The Plan
The Wraith
The Fighter
The Catalyst
The Newcomers
The Answer
The Infiltrator
The Escape
The Light
The Rout
The Forest Again
The Caves
The Ploy
The Remnants
The Ferals
The Vengeant
The Advance
The Gambit
The Finale
Planetfall
Ten.
The tiny digital readout embedded in the center of the dashboard blipped happily as it began its countdown, blissfully unaware of the chaos that surrounded it. Outside Ethan Walker’s shuttle, engineers and deckhands hustled out of the hangar, clearing the way for the shuttles to disengage brakes and prepare to launch. Engines roared, alarms blared. The cavernous room began to depressurize.
Nine.
Ethan looked over at his copilot – a kid, barely nineteen – and wondered if such an operation as this was the right one to assign to a new recruit. He certainly hadn’t been through anything so rigorous his first day on the job, but then he had been under a rather sympathetic sergeant who made sure he had been eased into the way of things. Perhaps this was Lieutenant Goodman’s idea of a joke.
Eight.
There was nothing to do about it now. Ethan returned to his final checks and rested a hand gingerly on the throttle. His copilot – whom Ethan’s heads-up display identified as a Private Erikson – opened his nav charts again, frantically checking their position against that of the planet they were destined for. It was fine, Ethan knew, but he let the corporal proceed with protocol. That was how Ethan had dealt with stress for a long time. “Just follow the rules,” Goodman once told him, “and things tend to work out.”
Seven.
The shuttle launching through the adjacent port revved its engines. Ethan understood its pilot’s anticipation. Launching in space was notably more vertigo-inducing than launching while the mothership was landed, but Ethan enjoyed the burst of adrenaline associated with disorientation and the prospect of getting lost in space. It hadn’t always been so fun.
Six.
He mentally reviewed the procedure’s checklist for when they broke atmo. His shuttle, one of eight Utility and Exploration Craft – affectionately known to the crew as hueys – was to break east along the designated landing zone and ensure it was fit for landing. Contact traffic control, return to orbit, attach to landing gear Starboard-Able, and let autopilot take over, he finished.
Five.
He had done this all before. Although the procedure -- falling out of orbit in advance of the mother ship by only a handful of minutes, sighting and marking one of four precise landing points, returning to orbit to guide said landing gear to its assigned landing point – was historically successful, Ethan always thought of the Hope of Earth at this point in the countdown. Tragedies like that one were never the pilot’s fault, but Ethan took little comfort in the knowledge that the engineers would probably catch the blame if it all went to hell.
Four.
The ticking clock was near enough to zero now as to make no difference to Ethan. He steeled himself for launch and felt a rush of excitement: they were about to disembark on a new world, untouched by humans! There were new creatures, new plants, new ecosystems that had yet to be discovered, and he was going to be part of it.
“Three,” Traffic Control cut in, yanking Ethan back into the moment, “Two, one. Launch.” The catapult threw the huey into the void with a cannon-like blast. Ethan fell back on his training, firing the thrusters and steering the shuttle into an intercept course for the planet.
The huey quaked furiously as it tore through the ionosphere. Ethan chanced a glance at Erikson who was clenching the yoke with white knuckles and clearly on the verge of vomiting.
“Soon as we break five hundred meters I need you on lookout,” Ethan said to him, his helmet’s comm blocking out the deafening noise around them, “We’re looking for anything that might not have shown up on the radar. Give me a holler if you see anything.” The corporal nodded silently and began to scan the rapidly approaching terrain.
At six hundred meters, and with as much finesse as he could manage, Ethan leveled the craft and pulled back on the throttle, easing their descent to the point where Erikson managed to get ahold of himself.
The huey closed the distance to the landing zone in seconds. It was not a terribly promising sight. The space was only just large enough to host the mothership and the large amount of equipment that would be subsequently unloaded, but Ethan had faith in the bridge crew. They could land the ship on a dime. They could manage here.
“This is Raptor One,” Ethan said, opening a channel to the other hueys, “Sight looks good at this angle.” He looked across the clearing to the other hueys as they buzzed over the canopy.
“Hammer reads the same,” Solar One said, “And same here. We’re good all around.”
“I’ll call it in.” Ethan switched to the mothership’s channel. “Bridge, landing site in view, signal is green. Marking it now.” Gently sliding the huey into position over the dropzone, he activated the payload release and the shuttle was relieved of a massive landing beacon which immediately began transmitting coordinates for the landing struts to lock on to.
“Copy, Raptor One. All units return home and prep gear placement.”
“Copy.” He gunned the throttle and shot upwards, glancing at Erikson. The recruit was barely retaining his breakfast. “You think this is bad?” Ethan chortled. “Wait until we do the whole thing again while hooked up to a landing gear.”
A few minutes later they were back in a low orbit and approaching the landing struts that were carried underneath the ship itself.
The struts were massive – they needed to be to support the twenty-two million pounds of steel that was going to come crashing down on them – and Ethan understandably found this the most nerve-wracking part of the landing process. Suspended between four hueys, each of the two cradle-like struts would be flown down to the landing site and dug into place. A complex array of hydraulic shocks and magnetic locks would then catch the ship as it fell toward the ground.
It was bringing the struts down that worried Ethan, though. The hueys docked with the struts facing upward, maximizing thruster output against the pull of gravity. Consequently, as they descended once more to the planet’s surface, there was no way of seeing where they were going. Even with retro thrusters built into the struts themselves, they were falling very fast.
As much as Ethan loved to fly, he hated this part. Radio chatter shot back and forth between the shuttles as they plummeted downwards.
“Bravo gear, hydro leak on seven, check your systems.”
“Copy Able, bot launched.”
“Able, cor
rect course by three zero niner northwest.”
“Landing marker not responding, GPS rebooting.”
“Wind inbound three eight seven, Able, adjust.”
“Picking up static discharge, Bravo. Can you confirm?”
“Landing marker still non-responsive.”
“Run diagnostic oh-niner, Port-Bravo. I think the static is messing with guidance.”
“Wind’s picking up. Able, mark speed.”
“Three eight seven at thirty knots – correcting.”
The hueys continued to adjust and compensate and recalculate until the landing struts slammed into the ground, raising a small storm of dust and scattering wildlife in every direction.
Ethan breathed a slow sigh of relief before looking over to check on Erikson. This time, the corporal had vomited.
“Hey,” Ethan said, nudging him on the shoulder, “We did it. Now we get to watch.” He motioned out the window to the approaching figure of the ship. It fell out of the sky like a comet, tongues of plasma licking at its hull. The behemoth kept steady, though, descending on target with impossible grace. Its retro thrusters kicked in at a thousand meters, its secondary engines at five hundred.
The landing struts’ hydraulics extended to their limits, ready to give the mothership a relatively soft landing. In the final seconds before impact, Ethan looked up at the ship and felt the same thrill he had before launch. Here was home for the next year, adventure waiting around every turn.
The ship slammed into the struts and the hydraulics recoiled, letting out a violent series of hisses as they eased their load into a level position. The clamps took hold and the ship came to rest. Voyager Dawn had arrived.
The Squad
“They have arrived.”
“And with perfect timing. The Bloodletting has only just ended. We leave before the new horizon.”
“If the scans are any indication, this will be over quickly enough. One ship will be more than enough to repel them.”
“Indeed, but remember: purification is our mission. I do not intend to merely repel them. An Orbiter and its master will be joining us as well. He seeks his own prey.”
“I look forward to hunting at his side.”
Captain Rhodes had been quick enough to put down any thought of festivities when Dawn landed. The ship was locked down from the moment it landed, and a handful of marines had been stationed around the civilian decks to make sure no one tried to sneak out. It was understandable enough that they would want to try; Dawn had been in transit in the darkness of space for the better part of three months. Even Ethan, who enjoyed the vastness of space, had begun to go stir crazy. Yesterday’s landing was exactly the joyride he had been craving.
Ethan was wide awake early the next morning, thanks to the bright sunlight marking the beginning of the day. In space, the windows were shuttered, blocking out the blinding light of compression, but planetside, they were beacons heralding excitement and adventure with each sunrise.
He made sure to take the longest route to the mess, stopping by as many sunny windows as possible on the way. He stepped into the buffet line behind a number of assorted crew members, one of whom he recognized from his counterpart squad.
“Hey, Mason,” he called around the engineers in front of him, “You see Rico yet?” Mason Steele, a large, rocky man who stood a head over everyone else, leaned back to find Ethan.
“What’re you doing up, Walker? I would have thought you’d want some sleep after the landing.”
“Can’t. Have you seen Rico yet?”
“Not since last week,” Mason said, coming up to the end of the buffet and doubling back to talk to Ethan, “I can’t imagine he likes being kept in the dark with the rest of the civvies, though.”
“It can’t be easy knowing he has to wait with the rest of them while we get to go exploring.”
“That’s what happens when you shatter your leg playing bucket ball.” He walked with Ethan to the front of the buffet line, after which they took a table together.
“Do you know who the new recruit is going to be?” Ethan asked. As Rico had been forced to leave Mason’s Omicron squad due to his injury shortly before they arrived, Mason’s quartet was short a marine.
Mason shook his head. “Windsor or Winter or something. Haven’t had time to look him up.”
“I’m still your pilot, right?”
“Haven’t heard otherwise. I’ll double-check though. We’re heading out next week.”
Ethan arched his eyebrows “I didn’t think Captain Rhodes liked going out so soon.”
“Got some good scans when we were coming in, apparently,” Mason assured him. “Besides, this is the most Mars-like planet we’ve seen in a while. Shouldn’t be too hard to fit in.”
Ethan cocked his head. “I thought you said that about Four.”
“Well, I was wrong about Four,” Mason admitted. He absently scratched the trio of scars on his cheek that were a souvenir of that particular excursion. “But I’ve got a good feeling about this place.”
Ethan was about to respond when he caught a whiff of cigar smoke. He looked up to see Ford Shields approaching their table. Mason slid down the bench to make room. Ford tipped his signature fedora in acknowledgement before turning to face Ethan.
“Mister Walker!” Ford said, his teeth wrapped tightly around a cigar, “Hear you did a fine job with the landing yesterday.”
“Didn’t you notice?” Ethan asked.
“He sleeps through them,” Mason interrupted. “Landings spook him.”
“What spooks me,” Ford corrected, “is the idea of tumbling out of the sky in a tin can that’s just as likely to explode as land nicely because, apart from counting on struts made by the lowest bidder to catch it, it’s just gone through the rigors of space flight and reentry.” He paused, then stood, tipping his hat again. “Pardon me a moment,” he coughed. “Nature calls.”
“Charming,” Mason observed as Ford disappeared through the door.
“Shouldn’t he outrank you by now?” Ethan wondered aloud. “He’s been on the ship since Two.”
“Refuses promotions, to hear him say it,” Mason said simply. “Something about not wanting all the hassle that comes with a leadership position. Maybe he’s serious, or maybe he’s actually never been offered a promotion. Man like that, who knows where he stands with the captain. Hell, sometimes I’ve wanted to shoot him.”
“But he’s ours and we love him,” Ethan finished.
“Very true,” Mason chuckled. “Yeah, Dawn wouldn’t be home without that hat and…aroma of his around.”
*
A general assembly was called at eleven hundred to discuss preliminary operations.
With the entire crew present in the auditorium, only standing room remained, but Ethan arrived to find Mason and Ford saving two seats.
“Kyle ain’t here yet,” Ford said, snatching his hat off the chair it had been guarding. Kyle Yoshida was the third member of Omicron squad, and notorious for arriving exactly on time, even if it meant all of the seats were taken by the time he arrived.
“We’re not saving one for the new guy?” Ethan asked.
“Don’t know him,” Mason said, “and I doubt he knows us. So the chances of him finding us in this crowd aren’t fantastic.” Ethan nodded in understanding, and took his seat. A moment later, the lights dimmed and Captain Rhodes approached the podium. Kyle slipped into his seat in the same instant, silently nodding at his comrades.
“Morning,” the captain said under his breath as he flipped through a binder. He stopped halfway through and turned around to activate the screen behind him. An orbital view of the planet popped into existence. It was a quiet, blue and green world, stunningly similar to Mars, although the oceans occupied a vaster portion of the surface, and it didn’t require fifty years of terraforming to reach its level of serene beauty.
“Welcome to Dawn Six,” Rhodes said, dialing up his voice so it filled the auditorium. “First, a round of applause for our br
idge crew, as well as our flight squadrons – Raptor, Solar, Hammer, Diamond – for a very successful landing.” A loud round of clapping answered him, but he cut it short. “Thank you. Second, I don’t think I need to go over the basic procedures for the first week planet side, but I’ll give you a brief refresher: don’t go outside, don’t interact with the civilians unless authorized, and for the love of all that is good in this galaxy, don’t try to coerce a field trip out of me or any of the senior officers. If you’re heading out on scouting duty, your squad leader already knows. If you haven’t heard anything by now, you’re not going.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, everyone checking to see if they were going out. Many turned back to Rhodes with disappointment on their faces.
“Hey, Ethan,” someone whispered. Ethan looked down to the row in front of him to see Frank Topper, an intern scientist who inexplicably idolized him, looking up excitedly. “Are you going?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m taking Omicron out next week,” Ethan whispered back.
“Awesome. Hey, see if you can’t get a few pictures for me. It’d be awesome to get a sneak peek before everyone else goes out there,” Frank said excitedly, adjusting his lime green glasses.
“Will do. By the way, did you ever get anywhere on that idea I had?”
Frank puzzled a moment to remember what Ethan was talking about. “Oh, the bomb? Yeah, I’ve run a few simulations. I think I’m onto something, but now that we’re here, I’m going to have a lot of other work to do.”
“No doubt. Let me know if you find time, though,” Ethan whispered. Frank nodded earnestly. It was difficult not to accidentally take advantage of Frank. He so worshipped Ethan that it took some insistence to convince him not to follow Ethan’s every whim. Among a few other things, Ethan had made it his goal in life to make Frank his own man. It was proving difficult thus far.
They returned their attention to Rhodes’ briefing. The captain had sunk into the perfunctory reading of the mission statement, something Ethan had heard two times before aboard Voyager Dawn, and many more times at the academy.
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