Winchester: Saviour

By Damien L. Malcolm

The year is 2795. The Human race has evolved and expanded, colonising many new worlds and learning to share the galaxy with thousands more new lifeforms and civilisations. Many of these races have banded together to form The Galactic Confederacy of Planets, where the immense diversity of cultures and enlightenment has enabled our united species to reach levels of universal knowledge, exploration and understanding, only ever dreamed about by generations past.
However, all of this has come at extraordinary costs. Our history has been marred by horror and oppression. Earth has had to rebuild almost the entire civilisation from scratch. Three hundred and fifty-two years ago, the galaxy's balance of peace had been overturned when a brutal, savage race of beings invaded our region of space. Calling themselves the Dimion Imperium, these merciless barbarians ruthlessly slaughtered any one who opposed them, including millions of humans. They destroyed entire worlds and conquered many races, our own being one. Over the twenty years of their oppressive domination over much of Galactic Confederate space, secret under-world rebellion groups slowly built up defences against the Dimion. Eventually, but not without severe Confederate losses, they were defeated and banished to the deep, uncharted frontiers of space and time, never to be heard of again.

But something has gone wrong in this new age of peace. A Confederate ship has gone missing 14,000 Light years from home. The CGV Winchester, Admiral Franklin's personal project for the last five years, is commissioned early to investigate, however things are far worse than the crew could ever imagine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Damien L. Malcolm
• Release date: Nov 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301941537

Damien L. Malcolm

I live in a small town in regional Queensland, Australia with my wife and four young children. I run a local Handyman business and any spare time I get is spent writing. At the impressionable age of 15 the Winchester series began for me as a private story idea based on the model of TV shows and books already famous in the sci-fi genre, but as it evolved and expanded, I found the idea and resulting story outgrew the confines of other formats. Eventually I found Smashwords, and never looked back. Since self-publishing Winchester: Saviour, I have changed genre a little, creating a more contemporary mystery novel, set in rural Australia. I simply love writing, but I get even more enjoyment out of knowing people are reading my work. Thank you.

Book preview

Winchester: Saviour

Damien L. Malcolm

Published by Damien L. Malcolm

Copyright 2012 Damien L. Malcolm

Smashwords Edition

If you like Saviour, why not discover other titles in the Winchester Series by Damien L. Malcolm at leading ebook resellers:

Saviour – Available now: you're about to read it!

Convolutions – Still in progress. Exciting continuation.

The Creature Within – The most exciting yet. I've nearly fallen off my chair 4 times while writing this episode!

There is also a print version of Saviour available worldwide on Amazon.com

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Introduction

The year is 2795. The Human race has evolved and expanded, colonising many new worlds and learning to share the galaxy with thousands more new Lifeforms and civilisations. Many of these races have banded together to form The Galactic Confederacy of Planets, where the immense diversity of cultures and enlightenment has enabled our united species to reach levels of universal knowledge, exploration, and understanding only ever dreamed about by generations past.

However, all of this has come at extraordinary costs. Our history has been marred by horror and oppression. Earth has had to rebuild almost the entire civilisation from scratch. Three hundred and fifty-two years ago, the galaxy's balance of peace had been overturned when a brutal, savage race of beings invaded our region of space. Calling themselves the Dimion Imperium, these merciless barbarians ruthlessly slaughtered anyone who opposed them, including millions of humans. They destroyed entire worlds and conquered many races, our own being one. Over the twenty years of their oppressive domination over much of Galactic Confederate space, secret under-world rebellion groups slowly built up defences against the Dimion. Eventually, but not without severe Confederate losses, they were defeated and banished to the deep, uncharted frontiers of space and time, never to be heard of again.

Until now...

The majestic little ship pulled close to a Byrinnian vessel, swooping down over the edge of its huge, beak-like bow, and firing energy beams all the way. A sudden bolt of blue energy shook the Essex hard as it struck forcefully on her dorsal shields.

Shields down to thirty-seven percent, Sir! Sub-Lieutenant Timothy Johnson yelled over the rumble of the ships hull under the impact.

Evasive-attack pattern alpha sixteen, Commander Conway ordered. The stars on the viewer curved to the left and a new pair of enemy vessels came into view.

Another set of Byrinnian energy fire ravished the tiny ship.

Shields down to twenty-four percent! Johnson yelled again.

Do we still have Stardrive? Conway asked.

Barely, Sir...

Foraelle interrupted Johnson's reply, Commander, we have a visitor.

Commander Conway turned her attention from Johnson's astonished face, following his gaze to the viewer to see the forward hull of a giant ship stretch out of the stars, followed by the rest of her great bulk. What the...

Hell? First Officer Jeraad Bonne finished Conway's sentence for her.

Prologue

This is your final warning, alien, the High Mo`ch of the Dimion Imperium boomed, in his native language. Your technology is advanced enough for you to join our cause. Join us or watch your race perish.

The rough translation crackled in the Maalen's earpiece. With every iota of courage he had left in his beaten body, he got back to his feet. We will not bend to your demands, Mo`ch. Our race will not be responsible for the destruction of any species. We are not like you. We will not help destroy anyone!

A shame, alien, as you seem so willing to participate in your own planet's annihilation. Doek`mah`to, send the inhabitants of this irritating planet to meet the To`ak Amu.

Immediately, High Mo`ch, a tall officer replied from behind his station.

No, please, The Maalen President pleaded in a close rendition of the Dimion tongue. Why do you have to do this? Can't you just let us live in peace?

That is now impossible, alien. You have been discovered by the Dimion Imperium. If you do not bend to our will, then Moh`tar awaits you.

The Bridge of the Dimion ship began to vibrate before the image on the small main viewer blazed with a searing blue glow. Through the haze, the Maalen could see the solid beam pulsating from the bow of the Dimion vessel and thrashing against the surface of his home planet. He screamed and fell to the deck in near physical pain as he was forced to watch the destructive power spread death across his world. His life, his family, his people, his entire known world, was being ripped from existence in front of his very eyes.

It was over in a matter of moments. He did not even bother to look up. He knew what he would see. Through the stinging tears gushing from his eyes, he envisioned an empty wasteland. Nothingness. No sign that the once flourishing Maalen race was a part of this dead planet's history. The image struck deep into his already dying soul, blackening his mind to such a point that he had not one awareness when the Dimion officer pulled the trigger on his hand-weapon.

He was dead long before his Maalen body was scattered into vaporising ash.

The Dimion High Mo`ch smirked as he watched the alien disintegrate slowly, before commenting without a hint of remorse, There is our defining proof. The Dimion Imperium has returned. And no longer will any lesser species stand in our way.

Chapter 1

As you can see, Sir, pointing to a small hand-held screen, there is a slight in-balance in the Stardrive plasma coil-relay, but Delta reports she'll have it sorted out by our departure at fifteen hundred hours tomorrow. Jarvis waited for a response from his superior. When nothing was forthcoming he continued.

And as for the shielding and power relays, they probably could have done with another couple of weeks worth of fine tuning. I took a glance at the shield specs two days ago and didn't really like what I saw. Jarvis paused again for a moment while they walked, waiting for the Admiral to reply. Still silence.

I must admit, in my view this early commission really is very inconvenient. This 'top secret' reason had better be adequate enough to explain all of this.

Still no comment. The dark-haired, lightly-bearded man beside him only nodded slowly in acknowledgement, and there was a lingering silence as the two officers walked side by side down the Confederate Station corridor. A man and woman with milky green skin passed whispering softly to one another as they headed in the opposite direction before Franklin finally spoke.

I still don't see why we couldn't just take a mag-lift down to the Transit Section and hitch a direct shuttle to the Vessel Manufacturing Division, Tom.

Jarvis playfully punched his commander on the arm, "Because stupid, the Sakunus has to be returned to the Winchester's shuttle bay... Oh, and you have that external inspection to make on the Winchester."

Why? I trust the engineers.

Oh yeah! The day you truly believe that is the day I get a woman.

Michael Franklin glanced side long at his First Officer. Mmm, point taken. I just hate inspections is all, he continued, ignoring Tom's objection, before turning back at him with a waving finger, And you know, you're very lucky that we're friends because striking a senior officer, let alone an Admiral, is at least a court martial offence.

Yeah, all right, whatever. And getting back to the point, what do you mean you hate inspections? You're an Admiral, you have responsibilities.

Franklin spread his arms in a dramatic posture, Ha! This from the man who has turned down, what was it now? Three promotion opportunities to command your own ship!

It was not three! Jarvis retorted defensively.

Oh right; how many was it then?

Jarvis looked up at Admiral Franklin with a smile as the two stopped at a large, grey access door at the end of the corridor. It was four.

The door opened with a deep hiss of compressed air and the two men walked into a massive room, at least four hundred metres square, and littered with a multitude of various shuttle-craft, alien or otherwise. Though Franklin had indeed been in the main Earth Dock Shuttle Bay on countless occasions, he was still struck by the sheer colour scheme of the massive hall. It was almost as if someone had just splashed all the colours of an Argan rainbow from a paint pellet, over a two-deck high canvas, and drawn outlines of the craft through the array of colour.

A short man with a single Ensign clip on his shoulder stepped out from behind a console station, Sirs?

Good morning, Ensign, Franklin greeted him with a smile, "Would you be able to direct us to the type fifteen shuttle assigned to the Winchester, please? My assistant here has the paper work."

Jarvis shot Michael a vindictive look before sifting through the several display tablets he was carrying. He picked out a large grey one and handed it to the shuttle bay officer. After glancing over its screen, then adding a few touches of his own, the Ensign handed it back to Tom and pointed behind the men.

"Certainly Sir. It's the Sakunus, that one right near the door, isle one, space 1093."

Thank you, Ensign. Come Commander. He turned briskly and walked off in the direction the Ensign had indicated.

Franklin had to duck under the wing of an oddly shaped craft as the two officers reached the back of their assigned shuttle. He realised now that the Sakunus was nowhere near as small as he had interpreted from across the bay, in fact measuring at least eight metres from bow to stern. It stood almost three metres tall, including the half-metre clearance below the ventral hull where she silently hovered above the deck. It appeared very stubby and rather inelegant, but without being overly ugly.

Jarvis stepped forward and touched a small control pad on the back wall of the shuttle's hull, and immediately a mechanical churning could be heard as the wide access hatch began to open. Slowly the top section lifted out over the men, before the lower part folded down to form a short ramp into the shuttle. Tom stepped in first, heading up front, to the control section. Michael followed at a leisurely pace, taking time to observe the large, tan-brown bench seats, spanning the walls along each side of the open plan shuttle, from hatch to cockpit. A wide window-screen ran the length of the walls, above the seats. They were blank now, but when transporting passengers, they acted like windows, giving rather deceiving real-life images from outside the shuttle.

He reached the cabin and took his seat next to Tom at the helm console, taking up his own place at Propulsion Systems Monitoring.

Ready?

Of course, Tom. I'm always ready, Franklin replied with a smirk.

If you say so.

Jarvis pressed a number of buttons in the corner of his control panel, and instantaneously hundreds of other little light sources flashed to life all over the console. A touch more and a deep whining sounded from outside as the grills of the two thruster engines that ran the length of her dorsal hull began to glow a vivid orange, in conjunction with the field generators powering up their searing-aqua pulse at the front and rear of each engine. To the aft of the shuttle, as the hatch was closing, the thruster reactor grills fired a stunning vermilion red and the shuttle gently began rising further off the pale grey deck of the Earth Dock Shuttle Bay.

Slowly she pulled out of her space between two alien craft and into a tight up-ward curve, arcing sharply to port to bring her bow up to the open bay door. The tiny vessel cruised majestically out of Earth Dock's Shuttle Bay, totally dwarfed by the sheer size of the mammoth orbiting city, making a gentle arch down towards the manufacturing division of the station. After gazing out the starboard view-window of the Sakunus at the ever-closing manufacturing division, Franklin sat back in his chair and touched the Comm button on his console.

"Shuttle-craft Sakunus to Winchester."

After a moment as the comm systems connected, a strong feminine voice sounded over the communications link, a thin but clearly audible French accent carrying between the words, "Winchester responding, Commander Scott in command."

Strong willed, intelligent and a beautiful blonde Demora Scott was the ship pilot or Chief Helm Officer. Six foot tall with all the elegance to match, Demora was born in France, Earth, to a French family, and had a French accent, but couldn't speak a word of the language to save herself. She grew up in San Francisco and picked up the accent from her parents. When both Franklin and Jarvis were not on the Bridge, ships command fell to Scott.

Ah, Demora. Are my ship and crew all ready for my 'divine inspection'?

After a slight giggle, Yes, Admiral. All aspects exceed your exceptional standards.

Well that's just super, Commander. You've done well. Keep this up and you'll be First Officer in no time. Franklin out

Jarvis flashed him a disconcerting look, receiving only a cheeky smile in reply.

The small shuttle took on a slight curve as it pulled in around a pylon of the massive station and began to swoop down over the massive propulsion cluster to the aft of the giant, newly built Winchester. None of her thruster ports were powered up, instead just a dull grey lined their cavernous radiator funnels. However, her primary Stardrive engine was gently glowing with a low ambient green. Warming up for the trip, Franklin thought to himself absently.

They were moving slowly and close to the dorsal side, allowing time to peruse the complete detail laid out before them. Presently, after looking out of the side window at the officers hard at work on the upper deck, the Admiral turned to Jarvis. You know, I'll never get used to the fact that people can actually walk around on the top deck of my ship.

"Yeah, I know how you feel. The Winchester is setting trends in every field."

Michael smiled and turned back to the window, checking a few more points off his mental list of inspection aspects. They were cruising the entire two thousand metre length of her Dorsal side, passing beneath the central communication tower, as well as the various sub-level buildings that were scattered around the upper deck. Franklin shifted his gaze forward to see the Solar Reactor looming ahead of them. Suspended over two hundred metres above the deck on rigid carbon-fibre pylons, the actual reactor was effectively encased in a massive box, formed from panels of super-efficient multi-faceted polycrystalline photo-voltaic solar panels. Recalling his briefing on the solar system all those many months ago, Franklin remembered how amazed he had been to learn that just the starboard side of the reactor alone possessed over twenty-eight thousand square metres of solar panel. More than the entire exposed panel of any other Confederate vessel, and that was only one side of a seven sided network. At any time in her coming years of service that the Winchester would be within four hundred million kilometres of an average star, that Solar Reactor was capable of producing up to two hundred megawatts of raw energy, which in turn fed directly into the ship-wide grid and supplemented her storage systems.

Franklin turned his gaze from the window as he suddenly realised something. Tom where are the docked vessels?

Why don't you ever call them 'DKVs'? It is their correct acronym.

Franklin merely shrugged his shoulders, not really caring, There are far too many 'three lettered acronyms' floating around out there for my liking.

Jarvis just shook his head in disapproval. "Any way, that was the thing I forgot to tell you when you got back last night. Early yesterday morning while you were on Altear Dock with Andrea and Crystal, I was told to tell you that the - DKVs - were summoned on a last minute trial run to the out skirts of Sector B04. Two of them had some minor problems to iron out, and someone out there needed some supplies ran to them. You know; two birds, a stone, etcetera, etcetera. If you ask me, I'd say that Galaxy Corp wants to get them at full capacity 'cause they're nervous about sending us on our maiden voyage without the ID Fighters on-board. But that's beside the point. My intel says they'll be back tonight and in dry dock to get stitched up completely before we leave tomorrow."

And I don't suppose Galaxy Corp thought to tell me directly then.

Well, you were out of town on a personal matter, i.e. visiting your wife and child before a big mission, and the Admiral on duty didn't recognise it as a situation that we would need to bother you about.

Oh, of course. Far be it from the Galactic Confederacy to interrupt a personal holiday with a business matter. Like that's never done that before. I mean why bother me. I just control the damn things.

You do not control them, Mike, their captains control them. You just command the ship that they dock on.

"Yeah, well... Has the Hawk gone with them?"

No need. Galaxy Corp reports that she's fully up to scratch. I reckon she's worth all six IDFs anyhow.

The Sakunus slowly cruised around the Winchester's main Bridge, before falling into a steep dive and taking on a slight starboard curve. She glided down over the edge of the upper deck and pulled into a port camber, down past the huge Stardrive field-generators, at the front of the port secondary engine.

Jarvis' comments about the lack of IDF support echoed Franklin's own thoughts on the matter. The IDFs, or Instant Defence Fighters, were an integral part of any vessel's defence strategy. Most Confederate ships stocked four; the Winchester six. Small, single pilot, shielded with full armament, these attack fighters were agile and powerful. They could be launched with a moments notice from a suite of rapid-egression shoots situated near the fore, three on each side, and could easily out run most medium-sized spacecraft and hold their own against heavy fire. The Engineers had given him the unwelcome news early in the month that the launch systems for the IDFs were still incomplete, and that Galaxy Corporation Military Innovation Division were less than two months away from finalising a fleet of new model Fighters. The decision had been to simply shelve the installation until the Winchester returned and the new Fighters were available. Several weeks ago, Franklin had been given orders to have the Manufacturing Division bring forward the Winchester's final construction plans to get her operational and launch-ready as soon as possible. It meant that non-essential parts of her completion were basically put on the back-burner, while the engineers focused on more urgent requirements. There simply was not enough time to get her as ready as he would have liked. Parts were missing, entire decks had not yet been fitted out. Systems hadn't been tested. At best, it had Franklin very concerned.

At least we managed to get the defensive weapons online in time, he thought to himself as he gazed back out the window. Of course, in a universe with so many realised and potential enemies, the most essential of all stellar accessories were the Energy Weapon Clusters. All seven ventral units he could make out above him now as he glanced across the underbelly of his ship. Not to mention the myriad of identical arrays scattered across the vessel's lateral and dorsal exterior. Each cluster was made up of six multi-directional energy beam generators arranged in an oval, around four computer-controlled energy cannons lining the centre. Between these automated weapon banks, the many Space-To-Space torpedo launch bays, six Disarmer emitters and the twenty-four manned turret stations placed strategically around her hull, the Winchester was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

The Sakunus arced its way up, around the port-aft corner of the Winchester's rectangular main hull, briefly passing the aft propulsion vents once again, and Franklin spent the last few minutes glancing over the strong flat pylons, identical on the port side, that were braided with solar panels and ran from the Main Stardrive assembly down to the main hull, to join with the secondary Stardrive engines. Coming to the extreme starboard of the Winchester, the shuttle now curved around to port and banked toward the open entrance of Shuttle Bay Two. She slowly glided in from the outside space, hovering gracefully over the other shuttles lining the room, before arriving at her designated space and gently set down to hover above the pale grey deck of the hanger.

Bay Two was an open hangar, smaller in size than Bays One and Three with a floor span of only a hundred square metres. Franklin had been against the shuttle bay designs when the Ship Builders had brought him the plans. Especially in the case of Bay One, he felt that a room three hundred metres long, two hundred wide, was far too big for a hanger aboard a starship. It was a little too exposed when the doors were open. He longed for the security of having a compact, multi-levelled shuttle bay, where only a small room was opened out to space and the shuttle was brought up to the flight deck on a small platform mag-lift, from secure storage decks below, instead of simply holding them all on the single level. However he had ended up conceding that this was a much quicker way of accessing a shuttle craft, and with the hundred fifty or so various craft housed on the Winchester, it was a lot more practical. As usual the engineers got their way.

Despite having a hand in every aspect of its design and implementation, there were a few things about his new ship Michael didn't really appreciate. Nevertheless, he had to admit, it was a massive improvement over his last command, the GCV Essex. Not that the small ship deserved to be lost beyond Confederate boundaries late last year - he wouldn't have wished that on any vessel or it's crew - but with having an innate dislike for small, cramped vessels he was glad to be able to spread out a little in his new command.

He turned to Jarvis as he stood from his chair. So where to now, oh known of all know-it-alls?

Jarvis looked up at him with a blank expression, switched off a computer screen, turned and began to walk out of the shuttle's hatch. Oh no, pal. You don't need me to hold your hand. You're on your own now.

But... Well, where are you going? Franklin looked betrayed.

Tom stepped off the ramp and touched foot on the deck with a faint clank. "I'm going to Main Engineering first, and then I'm off to the Bridge, to oversee any last minute preparations