Authors note: And it's back! This is a re-write of my original story: Resurgence. I like the idea, even though the execution was flawed, but I lost interest in it. This version will be similar to the first, based on the same ideas.
I'll try my best to upload regularly, but don't expect bi-weekly novels. This story is an experiment, not my sole purpose in life. If you have the time, or even feel the slightest inclination, please review and all of that stuff.
"It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light". Aristotle Onassis
Prologue-
… ission … abor… damage … all compartments. Power lost … ops cent… weapons, …cent… and communications.
Repeat. Mayday, Mayday, this is the USEFC Graf-Spe. Mission aborted. Critical damage to all compartments. Power lost to ops centre, life support, weapons, intelligence centre and communications.
Repeat. Mayday, Mayday…
Chapter One
Graf-Spe- 1 minute before unknown contact
Red lights flashed in the wrecked rooms and corridors of the USEFC Graf-Spe. These lights would usually be accompanied by blaring alarms, but these at the present time would have been completely inaudible had anybody been alive to hear them. This was due to a decidedly unhealthy lack of atmosphere inside the shattered hulk of the warship.
Piggybacking on the faint ebb of power produced by the ships' backup generators, an artificial intelligence designated Hermes slumbered. Drawing what little extra power he could, he began to reactivate his subroutines and assumed control of the ship. Once the menial tasks of jettisoning a reactor midway through a nuclear meltdown, and ascertaining that he had no idea of where the Graf-Spe was in location to anything, Hermes powered up his sensors.
1 kilometre sweep … … …
No contacts
5 kilometre sweep … … …
No contacts
40 kilometre sweep … … …
No contacts
100 kilometre sweep … … …
Unidentified contact detected
Hermes redirected what was left of the Graf-Spe's sensory systems to where he had detected the anomaly; and a previously hazy return cleared up, taking shape as a large ship. A very large ship.
Graf-Spe, Damage Control Centre- 2 minutes after unknown contact
Lights flashed and klaxons wailed. Boots pounded on floor plating as panicked officers and enlisted sailors ran to their action stations. A faint rumble rippled through the length of the proud warship, followed by louder tearing noises. Seemingly unnoticed by the rest of the crew, David went to the nearest viewport. Gazing into space, he saw what had turned the normally professional and calm atmosphere of a USEFC warship into one of fear and anticipation. The light from a nearby sun was blotted out, eclipsed by the alligator-like bow of another vessel. It approached as a predator would with cornered prey. The promise of violence filled the void between worlds.
Petty Officer David Kelly was jolted awake by an electrical sparking sound. Opening his eyes he saw the visor of his helmet. It was coated in dried blood. David could feel a weight on his chest, squeezing him and constricting his breathing.
He activated his communicator and keyed in a distress code. Where was he, how had it happened…Whatever actually had happened.
"Good morning Petty Officer. It is 0200 hours London time, exactly 5 hours after the attack. How are you holding up?" The voice came from his communicator, built into his helmet.
"Medic…please…" he groaned.
"Unfortunately, all medical personnel on board are deceased." Hermes answered.
"What? All of them…what happened?"
"Almost immediately after the call to action stations, the Graf-Spe was rammed amid-ships by the Incursionist vessel. Most of the crew were killed on impact. Of those that were not, their compartments were breached and they were lost to space. I am sorry Petty Officer. You are the sole survivor of the USEFC Graf-Spe."
A media screen was projected on David's visor. Hermes was feeding him live security camera footage of the damage control centre. David saw himself, pinned against the centre console by a detached piece of bulkhead wedged between the consoles and ceiling. He saw his Lieutenant, or what was left of him, crushed against the far wall. Another petty officer was also visible, impaled by a thin metal rod which had punctured her protective armour and pinned her to her seat.
He was stunned by the carnage. The last thing he remembered was strapping himself into his seat and then…nothing. David felt his blood rush to his head and he wrenched at the bulkhead in frustration. The obstruction shifted, freeing him.
Still blind save for the camera feed, David noted that the artificial gravity had gone out and the room was foggy with toxic fire suppressant. He wiped the blood, grime and dust off his visor, wincing at the jolt of pain elicited by the action. Now he could see more clearly. The damage control centre was in dis-repair, pieces of equipment strewn about the compartment. Small particles of blood floated in a haze around the Lieutenant's corpse. The scene was bathed in the harsh red lighting of a ship running on emergency power.
David launched himself out of his chair, aiming for the console next to his. He miss-judged and crashed into the female petty officer, striking his helmet against the console. Grabbing the monitor to stabilise himself, he oriented to a position 'above' the sailor. He grabbed her wrist and checked her suit's tac-pad. No vitals. She was dead.
David composed himself- it had been a long shot. "Hermes. Status report."
"Aye aye sir. All offensive and defensive systems offline. Life support offline. Sensory suite is operating at 20% capacity. Primary and secondary power offline. Emergency tertiary power at 100%. An unidentified contact has been detected at a range of 100 kilometres. "
"Unidentified? Has it moved?"
"No sir."
"Not a rescue ship then." David activated the dead petty officer's display, pulling up sensory readings and damage reports.
"As all propulsion and navigational systems are offline, and the bridge is destroyed. Sir; it is my duty to activate this vessel's self-destruct if it becomes compromised by any hostile or unknown entity while the crew is incapacitated."
David glanced at the security camera set in a recess in the corner of the room. "Please hold off on that for the moment Hermes."
He pondered the screen for a few minutes. With this kind of damage the ship was incapable of defending itself or calling for help.
"The unidentified vessel has launched small craft. I am detecting twelve smaller and three larger contacts."
David examined the sensory data which Hermes was feeding to his console. The twelve smaller spacecraft were maintaining a protective formation around the three larger ones. "Shuttles?" He asked.
"Most probably to land a boarding party." Hermes responded.
"Threat analysis?"
"In our current state, we are incapable of withstanding an assault from an Apollo mission era space shuttle armed with flashlight strength lasers."
David pushed away from the console, throwing himself towards a discoloured section of wall immediately under the security camera. He reached out and grabbed a handhold set into the wall, preventing himself from rebounding. With a twist of the handhold the wall segment, a slightly darker grey than the rest of the warship, slid away after a bio-recognition system confirmed his authorisation. It revealed a sub-armoury, designed to equip and resupply sailors fighting off boarders. David reached for a rifle.
(Line Break)
David basked in soft warmth. Where was he? …He was lying in a bed. Opening his eyes he saw a familiar face. It was Cath. They must be in her house he decided. Home. He must have recently returned from a deployment, because he felt tiredness set deep in his bones. Through half closed eyelids, he could see her walking around, cleaning, and arranging furniture.
"Time to wake up David. Robert will be coming over for lunch soon," she said. "David?"
Suddenly the room took on a greenish hue, across the room Cath stiffened and a high-pitched keening sound erupted in his head.
David rolled off the bed, diving behind a couch as she turned towards him. No! Not her!
"David!"
Graf-Spe, Damage Control Centre- 20 minutes since unknown contact
David woke up. Again. This time he was in some sort of zero-G foetal position on the opposite side of the room from the weapons locker.
"Petty officer?" Hermes asked- his voice tinged with what would be concern in a human.
"I'm good, I'm good. I must be a bit fragile still." David stretched out of the ball he had curled into, trying not to wince at the ever-present pain in his back where the bulkhead had pressed into him.
After a few minutes of pulling, tugging, and re-adjusting equipment, David grabbed the armoured plates designed to upgrade standard duty helmets to combat capable standards. He slid the pieces into their corresponding grooves where they were magnetically fixed. David blinked at several settings on his HUD, activating the manoeuvring unit attached to the small of his back. With a motion of his armoured glove, he jetted around the room trying to remember his days in basic training while getting used to the feel of the combat armour resting over his skin suit.
"The unknown small craft have finished cutting through the hull. I am detecting multiple life signs entering the ship. Scans show them to be armed." Hermes warned.
David returned to the sub armoury, took out a standard issue particle pistol, inspected it for faults and then attached it to a magnetic clamp on his right. He then withdrew another standard issue weapon. Giving it a quick check over, he slung the carbine over his shoulder. While smaller and less powerful than an infantry rifle, it possessed significantly more firepower than a 21st century weapon of similar function.
Checking the video feed from security cameras inside the breached corridor, David saw six figures floating in a semicircle around a glowing hole in the wall. They were humanoid, and wore strange gold pressure suits with helmets resembling those of a World War Two helmet/gas mask combo. Most of them held long rifles that were raised as their bearers scanned for possible threats. "Try and tap into their communications network Hermes," ordered David. "Lets see who our guests are. Open the bulkhead Hermes." Cracking his neck he disengaged his weapon's safety catch and jetted into the corridor beyond.