Midshipman Henry Gallant in Space (The Henry Gallant Saga)

by H. Peter Alesso

  Gallant was already exhausted, mentally and physically, but he began a search for life signs.

  At that moment, he saw a sight that would long haunt his dreams; from inside the hull breach, he saw the ruptured bodies of dead alien crewmen floating. They had strange, gray-purple faces. He had to force himself to move past them. Holding his handgun, he entered the next airless compartment of the ship.

  Assessing the saucer layout, Gallant guessed that there was a corridor that ran radially into the ship. He supposed that the bridge would be located at the center of the saucer, while the reactor compartment and engine rooms would be along the outer circumference.

  Gallant made his way to what he presumed was the bridge and opened the hatch. He saw the dead body of a five-foot tall biped crewmember with leathery features and a strange uniform. The creature wore a pressure suit that provided protection from space and included a supply of an unknown gas mixture. The alien had long limbs and slender appendages.

  That was all he could discern from his brief look. He moved forward, swinging his right hand with the gun from side to side in front of his body. Anytime he detected a flicker of motion, he focused the gun in that direction.As he leveled his gun, he noticed the presence of several more alien bodies, badly mangled from explosions and fire. Some of them had not made it into their protective suits. They were very thin and had a grayish-hued skin peeking out through the coverings. He could see no hair, or markings, on the skin. The eyes were peculiar—violet and cobalt and somewhat iridescent.

  He picked up one of the aliens’ weapons. It appeared to be an assault gun with a highly polished barrel, possibly a form of high-temperature plasma gun. He cast it aside.

  He searched for life signs among the rest of the crew but found none. As he moved about the bridge, he was certain that he was facing an impossible task of trying to understand the controls.

  The hatch to the bridge swung open as two threatening aliens entered the bridge, weapons drawn.

  An impulse of desperate action seized Gallant. With all the bravado he could muster, he thrust himself forward, firing and killing both in succession. He shook with excitement, even though the well-trained part of him responded logically. He thrust the images of the dead bodies out of his mind, along with the heavy thoughts that accompanied them.

  He was examining what appeared to be the central processing unit, when another alien suddenly appeared from the interior of the ship and fired a handgun at him. The plasma blast grazed Gallant’s left arm, causing him to slip and stumble.

  As his armored suit automatically resealed itself, Gallant returned fire, and the face of the alien dissolved into a bloody mess.

  He recognized that at this point, he didn’t have any good options. He activated his suit's emergency medical response unit. It released analgesics and antiseptic to cover his wound. He sucked medication and stimulants from the fluid-dispensing straw within his helmet and then bit his lip from the searing pain he still felt. He tried to keep himself alert to prevent succumbing to shock.

  It was several minutes before the medications overcame the shock and pain from his injury. As soon as he could, Gallant focused again on the task of assessing the alien systems and forms around him.

  First, he took a flask from his belt equipment and collected tissue samples from the alien bodies. Then, using a metal bar from the nearby bridge wreckage, he nervously pried out what he conjectured to be a vital piece of equipment. It consisted of blocks of integrated circuits several feet long. The body of the mechanism was small, cylindrical, and almost pointed. On the pointed ends were socket caps that he unplugged from their wall connections. The device looked extremely complex, and it bore all the earmarks of the main CPU of the bridge AI system.

  With his injury, Gallant had a difficult time bringing the equipment back to his fighter. Once there, he remained outwardly impassive but asked for help.

  Kelsey grabbed him first and helped him aboard. Then she picked up the mechanism and stored it in a locker below the pilot’s seat.

  He wasn’t prepared for how to proceed beyond this point, but he reported to the Repulse that he had recovered vital alien technology.

  The fleet battle was still quiet as the two sides remained separated from sheer exhaustion. Captain Caine spoke directly to Gallant over a secure channel, asking about the characteristics of the alien technology.

  The only remaining Eagle fighters were piloted by Neumann and Chui. Their incredible flying skill had kept them alive so far. Neumann cut into the communication channel and said, "Captain, let me take the equipment to Ganymede Lab to be studied."

  The battle was going badly, and the United Planets’ fleet was in trouble. Nearly all the fighters were destroyed or badly damaged. The battle cruisers were all damaged and low on missiles. Caine recognized the critical importance of what Gallant had recovered. He said, “Ganymede isn’t safe. It’ll have to go to Mars.”

  Gallant said, “Let me take it, Captain.”

  Neumann interjected, “No Captain, I should take it. The Eagles can barely travel that distance and the asteroids are inundated with aliens. I’m senior and the better pilot. I won’t let you down.”

  Caine hesitated to decide.

  Gallant didn't waver. He argued, saying, "No, sir. I’m the one who saw the opportunity. I took the risk and captured the technology. I’ll get it to Mars."

  Caine said, "You continue to surprise me, Mr. Gallant."

  He paused and then continued, "Mr. Gallant, break off from the battle and get that alien CPU to any United Planets base you can make with your limited fuel and environmental capabilities."

  Caine ordered, "Flight 3, you will escort Gallant out of the immediate combat area. The battle cruisers will re-engage the enemy fleet for as long as we can, to give you cover. Good luck!"

  Gallant, Neumann, and Chui moved into formation together and turned toward the sun. They tried weaving past numerous alien ships, which seemed to be in disorder despite keeping up a steady fire of missiles and plasma discharges.

  For a moment it looked like the three fighters would get away, but then two small saucers broke away from the main engagement and targeted the fighters specifically.

  "OK, this is on us, Chui," said Neumann. "Gallant, stay on course. We've got these two."

  "Roger," said Gallant.

  "Don't let us down!" said Neumann.

  Click ... click ... Gallant tapped his microphone in acknowledgement.

  Neumann and Chui turned and flew to face two aggressive saucers, head-on.

  "Godspeed," Gallant said quietly with a dry throat, as he pushed his throttle to max.

  The next second, his Eagle was heading away, alone.

  Gallant observed Flight 3's Eagles for as long as he could, but they appeared to vanish in a massive explosion at the edge of his instrument range.

  "Oh, Henry," Kelsey said with a gasp.

  Gallant somberly focused his attention on the vastness of space before him.

  As the last star fighter in Squadron 111, Midshipman Henry Gallant headed for the nearest human base in orbit around Mars.

  With the Jupiter Fleet on the verge of annihilation, Gallant expected no help. In order to reach Mars, he had to make his way through the asteroid belt and past alien saucers in the area. He would have to nurse his wounded arm and share the limited life-support resources with Kelsey over a protracted journey.

  He realized that with so much uncertainty about the alien capabilities and intentions, analyzing the captured computer equipment in his possession could prove crucial.

  CHAPTER 19

  Midshipman Henry Gallant pointed his Eagle directly toward the sun. The star’s radiance thrust golden barbs into the surrounding coal-black space. Asteroid specks twinkled as they moved across its gilded face. After several hours at maximum velocity to shake off pursuit, Gallant throttled back to cruising speed. The unwelcoming asteroid belt, with its uncountable deluge of rocks and debris, was strewn before him. The aftermath of a fer
ocious battle, fought in the shadow of Jupiter, was scattered not too far behind him.

  He narrowed his eyes as he watched Kelsey adjust the visual display of the ship’s powerful telescope. It could still distinguish the derelict and broken ships of the Jupiter Fleet that had been crippled, fighting the aliens from the outer planets. The United Planets' colonies and facilities on the frontier could, even now, be at the mercy of that ferocious enemy. He again questioned his judgment, torn between the guilt of leaving his shipmates behind and the necessity of getting critical alien technology to Mars.

  As he stripped off his armored suit, his arm throbbed from the piercing pain of his plasma wound. The armored suit was a highly compressed multilayer fabric impregnated with titanium and carbon nanoparticles. The laminated material was incredibly strong while remaining exceedingly lightweight and flexible. It could reflect much of a plasma or laser blast and resist projectiles. It included its own circulatory system interwoven within the various layers, just like the body’s arteries. Sealant fluid and medication liquids traveled along its circulatory highway. The suit had saved his life when he was attacked on the alien saucer.

  While he was conscious of his wound, he continued to down play it. Despite the severe aching, he remained stone-faced. He cut away the burned sleeve of the pressure suit he wore under the armor to expose his seared forearm. His flesh was scorched along his wrist almost to the bone. He was conscious of Midshipman Kelsey Mitchell squirming forward in their tiny two-seat fighter cabin.

  "Oh, Henry." She grimaced and set about cleaning the charred area.

  He was self-conscious about how he might appear to her, but a tiny groan still managed to escape his lips.

  She said, “I’ll give you a shot to relieve the pain.” She loaded a needle with a powerful local anesthetic and injected it into the tender skin. Then she began to apply antiseptic and a healing gel before she stitched and bandaged the wound.

  She wore a concerned look as she gazed into Gallant’s face, trying to gauge his state of mind. "How’s that?" she asked.

  After a deep breath, he took hold of himself, sneering at his own weakness. “Better, much better. Thank you,” he said, eyeing the bandage.

  Gallant cleared his throat as he moved away from Kelsey. He thought, It would have been worse if that alien’s aim had been just slightly better. He tried to distract himself by looking at the forward view port and concentrating on the task before them. There were many miles to go before they could find sanctuary.

  He opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out some synthetic food supplements. Opening the package, he split the contents between them. As they munched on the unappetizing food, he checked the Eagle’s life-support system. He asked the AI system for an evaluation of their supplies. Looking at the feedback the AI system provided, he examined the status including fuel, food, and life-support. He expected that they would be on short rations for the rest of the trip. He shrugged his shoulders, settled back in his chair, and turned his attention to their mission.

  “I think we should operate at reduced capacity to optimize our flight time,” he said.

  “Agreed,” said Kelsey, adjusting the life-support system. She set the oxygen to 80 percent of normal while decreasing the operating capacity of the carbon dioxide and heat removal systems. “That should extend our overall life-support capabilities by a couple of days.”

  Gallant reduced the cruising speed to 0.004c to conserve fuel. These adjustments would make life somewhat uncomfortable for them, but should extend their operational range.

  “I think we need to come up with a fuel-efficient plan to travel through the asteroid belt while avoiding Titan scout ships. When we were escorting the Stella Bordeaux, it seemed that there was a lot of alien activity throughout the area,” said Gallant, reaching toward the display console to correlate relevant parameters.

  "What did you have in mind?" asked Kelsey, working her way around Gallant’s chair back to her own. The Eagle’s interior was extremely compact. The AI virtual screens and manual controls were arranged to give maximum utility. A lower sleeping bunk and a storage locker were located beneath the chairs. It was adequate space for two crewmembers with chairs and operating consoles.

  "We need to find a trajectory within our resource limitations that’s stealthy enough for moving through the asteroid field," he said, pulling up another AI screen and entering several constraints. The AI results offered a number of alternatives for them to consider.

  “Am I wrong, or do these paths seem inadequate?” asked Kelsey with a touch of exasperation in her voice.

  “The third trajectory isn’t too bad. It meets the basic parameters for fuel and life-support, but as you suggest, it doesn’t keep us well hidden. I think all of the options the AI produced offer only limited radar stealth.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to zigzag from one large asteroid formation to another, in short bursts? Then even if the Titan’s get a couple of quick returns on radar there will be nothing solid for them to track. And we can work to keep our radar profile minimal when we’re in the open. Let me try programming a route. Just a minute,” suggested Kelsey.

  The adjusted life-support settings were producing unfamiliar ship noises all around him, but Gallant concentrated on his display. He had faith in Kelsey’s expertise to find a safe course through the asteroid belt to Mars.

  “Look at this, Henry,” she said, offering a solution that was clearly better than any from the AI.

  As he studied the route, he asked, “Why did you pick this leg here toward Ceres?”

  “It’s near the center of the asteroid field and has a very large cluster of assorted asteroids that should provide excellent radar shelter. By moving toward that cluster, we have the best probability of stealth. I’ve searched my mind for any critical detail I might’ve overlooked, but this is the best path I could find.”

  Gallant knew he had to make up his mind about what course to follow. All the manifold details of traveling toward their goal, no matter how petty and temporary, were important to him. With a hint of admiration in his voice because he felt lucky to have her with him, he said, "Excellent, let’s do it."

  He felt a strange contentment as they made their way forward with the stars to guide them.

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  That night, Gallant awoke with a start. He lay in the bunk, wondering what had roused him. After a moment, he realized the communications center was bleeping with an incoming message. His heart pounded as he shifted his position, stretching to activate the decoding equipment. He got out of the sleeping bunk and took his seat in the pilot chair.

  It had been utterly maddening to spend the last day without any communication signals from the Jupiter Fleet. Gallant choked with excitement as his imagination filled with the possibilities of what the communication held. He leaned forward, peering into the screen to read the message. He felt Kelsey's breath as she leaned forward over his shoulder.

  Gallant let his shoulders relax, relieved to see the signal from the Repulse was addressed directly to him. He noted with interest that it was Chief Howard who had transmitted the information.

  The message started with a personal note that Red and Neumann were alive in the Jupiter Station hospital. Then it listed the names of those who had not survived. There were too many. He gave a silent mental salute. Kelsey squeezed his shoulder, and he knew she was doing the same. He was relieved that some of his comrades had survived, even though others had not.

  Included with the general message was a family-gram for Kelsey. Family grams were important to space personnel. They were three- or four-line messages that their families were allowed to forward a few times during each deployment. It was from her parents, and she read it aloud, “Everyone here is fine and praying for you. Stay safe. Much love, Mom and Dad.”

  Gallant felt a twinge of envy, but it passed quickly.

  The rest of the transmission provided an update on the status of the Jupiter Fleet, the marines on Ganymede, an
d the information that was available on the Titan fleet’s condition. Apparently, the battle cruisers were badly damaged but under repair. The marines were holding their position near the Titan landing zones. The entire situation seemed to be in a gridlock, with neither side strong enough to dislodge the other.

  “Isn’t it odd that the Titans aren’t following up their attack on the Jupiter Fleet?” asked Kelsey.

  Gallant said, "The entire Titan strategy for this war doesn’t make sense. They attacked Jupiter with a force too small for sustained follow-through. Even if they had been successful in destroying the Jupiter Fleet and occupying Ganymede, they weren’t strong enough to withstand a counterattack from Mars. The Mars Fleet could easily brush it aside. I've played enough chess against Red to learn that the opening moves of a conflict are not necessarily designed to bring about an immediate decisive win. They should set up for a favorable position from which a decisive advantage can be gained. We’re missing something. There has to be more to the Titans’ plan."

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  The Eagle was making slow but steady progress through the asteroid field. Jupiter was receding in the distance. Gallant found Kelsey to be a supportive companion, willing to share hazards and deprivations without complaint. Occasionally, she spoke of pleasant events of years gone by, and that normalcy distracted them from their lost comrades. As they worked together, their isolation fashioned an intimate bond.

  The physical burden of their reduced environmental conditions, however, was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Several days’ buildup of perspiration caused Gallant’s pressure suit to cling to his skin. He washed and shaved as best as he could with the tiny hand basin that was available. His bandaged arm hampered him as he tried to splash water and cleanser over his face and neck. He yearned for a brisk shower, but that was only available on the distant Repulse. His head throbbed from the reduced oxygen and excessive carbon dioxide. He imagined that he made quite an unpleasant sight.

  The embarrassment and restlessness weren’t very helpful either. He said, “I’ve got to do something to stop this itching; it’s driving me crazy.” He moved to scratch at his bandages.