The Kestral Voyages: My Life, After Berserker Read online

  The Kestral Voyages: My Life, After Berserker

  Steven Lyle Jordan

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  1: Captain Kestral

  2: The Mary

  3: On the Wrong Foot

  4: Pilot-less

  5: Pilot Found

  6: The Berserker

  7: Terra212

  8: Change of Plans

  9: First Leg

  10: Spiders

  11: The Incubator

  12: Race to Deep Abignon

  13: Sundance

  14: The Superman

  15: Mixed Accomplishment

  Afterword: The Trek that never was

  About the author

  This novel was originally published as “Berserker: The Kestral Voyages” by Steve Jordan.

  Contents have been slightly revised from the original novel.

  Copyright © Steven Lyle Jordan. All rights reserved. This ebook edition is intended for private use only. Purchaser is authorized to shift the novel to alternative ebook formats in order to facilitate its use by the purchaser. Purchaser is not authorized to reproduce or redistribute this novel. Please do not redistribute or resell this novel, or copies of it, without the express permission of the copyright owner. Any interested parties should be directed to RightBrane.com to obtain copies for themselves.

  The characters in this novel are fictional, and do not represent actual persons, living or dead. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are coincidental and unintentional. For further information, and to see other novels, visit RightBrane.com.

  Cover art by Steven Lyle Jordan for Right Brane ePublications. All rights reserved.

  Revision 3: August, 2010

  Introduction

  When the deck heaved the second time, there had been no collision alert sounded. That was not good. It meant that the bridge was either too busy fighting off attacking Spider ships, or dealing with damage control, to have time to issue alerts.

  It also meant that when the deck dropped away, it sent dozens of crewmen, many of them in full run from one place to another, pitching into the air unexpectedly. They came down everywhere, many of them tumbling into each other in alarmed, painful knots. One such group of three crewmen sailed across the corridor, collided with the deck, and slid in a tumble across the floor, to impact against the wall and pin a fourth body that had already fallen there.

  The crewmen cursed and shoved as they tried to untangle themselves. They seemed to be having limited success, until a voice emanated from the body they had pinned against the wall.

  “Get it together, Rangers!”

  This seemed to do the trick, giving the crewmen the impetus to straighten themselves out and regain their feet. The last one up looked back down at the person who had been pinned to the wall, and his eyes winced in apology. “Sorry, Commander.” One of the other Rangers, upon seeing who he had pinned against the wall, flushed violently, and his mouth worked open and closed without uttering a sound. That was because the Commander was well-known on the ship, as beautiful a woman as she was intelligent and capable an officer, and any number of able-bodied crewmen would have given their eye-teeth to have been pressed up against her.

  One offered a hand, and the woman on the deck used it to lever herself back to her feet. At her full height, she was as tall as the shortest of the crewmen, none of whom would be considered short by any means. Her height complemented a physical stature that had been known to reduce virile men to gibbering idiots in her presence… one of which was apparently before her now. His mouth still opened and closed silently, his eyes reflecting his mortification.

  “S’okay,” she said to the crewmen, the mortified one especially. “Get those power packs to your stations. Go!”

  The crewmen gathered up their packs and bounded off down the corridor, leaving the Commander there with the other three-dozen crewmen strewn about the deck. Most of them were on damage control, made necessary by a barrage of particle fire from the Spiders that had caused a power surge and blown out the conduits throughout the section. The Commander had been closest to the section, and she knew how close the damage was to some vital shield cooling systems they could not afford to lose. So she had immediately taken over damage control organization there.

  Unfortunately, it already looked like the systems were too far gone… and if the coolant lines blew out, they would release a toxic cloud that would fill the corridor in seconds. While the Commander gave orders, she expected at any second to have to evacuate the section.

  “We’re back up, Commander!”

  She turned to see one of the maintenance teams slapping the access plates back down on an access box they had just finished patching.

  “All right, lock it down and get out of this section!” the Commander shouted. “I want minimum personnel in here until—”

  Her orders were cut off when the deck jumped out from underneath them again. And something different: A force that struck her from behind, accompanied by a deafening noise. She was pitched into more flailing crewmen, and landed in a heap with them.

  Being on top of this heap, she was up quickly this time, and swiveled her head about to assess the damage. The far end of the corridor was filled with a peculiar colored smoke, obscuring the space beyond. That wasn’t the color of the coolant, she knew.

  Then she became aware of a noise… a keening, high-pitched wail that grew louder and more insistent. Her heart jumped.

  “Hull breach!” She cried out, and pitched forward. There had been crewmen just a few meters into that cloud, and she couldn’t see them now. She had to see if anyone needed help. “Everyone out except damage control! Prepare to seal off this deck!”

  She advanced into the cloud, waving her arms in an attempt to see. She could feel a slight breeze, but it did not seem to be too insistent yet… and it wasn’t dissipating the odd cloud… so she continued on. She almost tripped over the first crewman she found, slumped against the wall. She moved close to him, checked his pulse, and breathed a sigh of relief to realize he was still alive. As quickly as she could, she pulled the unconscious crewman’s arm over her shoulder and used it to lever him onto her back. He was much larger than she was, but she managed to position him so that she could half-carry, half-drag him away.

  As she turned to leave, she saw something on the opposite wall, a vague shape in the fog. She took only one step towards it, straining to make out the shape. Then she recognized the telltale nosecone, the shattered glass ports on each side, and the cryptic markings ringing the ports.

  “Oh, shit…”

  She spun about fast as she could, struggling with her unconscious burden. “Somebody help me with this m—”

  An incredible blow to the small of her back cut her off. The Commander went flying in one direction, her burden in another, and both of them ended up on the deck. She almost lost consciousness herself, so hard did she hit the floor… until a wail emanated from within the cloud, a noise that turned her blood cold. Pure adrenalin forced her to struggle upright, and she spun around to face a nightmare.

  The shape came out of the cloud, bellowing, swinging massive arms and clenched fists. No sooner had the Commander regained her feet, she doubled back down, and its first swing missed… following through, the Commander instinctively swung about to land a foot in her attacker’s midsection. But her attacker was fast, too: Before she knew what had happened, her foot was caught in a viselike grip, and she was yanked off the ground. The Commander felt herself swinging through the air, her head almost striking the opposite walls of the corridor. Her breath was gone, her captive leg burned as if about to tear fre
e of her hip, and she was completely disoriented. She was absolutely sure that her life was now over.

  Then her foot was released, and she sailed wildly through the air. She hit the wall, and this time, consciousness did leave her. The Commander slumped to the floor, limp as a rag doll.

  Her attacker, meanwhile, had jumped on the poor unconscious crewman the Commander had tried to drag out of the fog, and in three swift barehanded strokes, had managed to rip off both of his arms and his head. Then it bellowed again, the noise booming through the corridor. With clearly murderous intent, it charged out of the cloud, right at the unconscious Commander.

  Suddenly the corridor was filled with a flash of light. A finger-thin beam of reddish energy lanced across the corridor, catching the attacker full in the chest. There was a scream, and the smell of burning flesh, and suddenly the attacker was in several pieces. Most of those pieces continued their forward momentum, falling to the deck and skidding several meters, before coming to a stop.

  “Got him!”

  “Watch for more!”

  Instantly the corridor was filled with people, most of them heavily armored, and carrying particle rifles and handguns. They swarmed into the corridor, brandishing their weapons and watching every unmoving body closely.

  One of the soldiers stepped close enough to nudge the severed torso of the wild attacker they had just cut down. “Oh, damn… that’s Drew Franks, he’s in my section… look, he dismembered that guy…”

  “Try not to think about it,” another soldier advised him.

  They moved into the corridor only as far as the edge of the cloud. The lead soldier peered into the cloud for a moment, then backed off, fumbling at the atmosphere mask dangling from his neck. “Berserker! Everybody out! Masks on! Seal off this deck!”

  The soldiers began to back out of the corridor, wasting no time. All were silent now, and many of them held their breath as they struggled intently with their masks. Near the leader, another soldier bent down to grab the unconscious Commander slumped against the wall.

  “What are you doing?” the leader batted his hand away. “Leave ‘er!”

  “Lieutenant—”

  “Leave her, I said!” the Lieutenant snapped. “She can’t be helped… she’s infected!”

  “We can’t leave her!” the soldier protested. “That’s Commander Kestral!”

  “I know,” the Lieutenant said, looking down at her. “And she’s as good as dead.”

  1: Captain Kestral

  The cloudless, cobalt-blue sky was not the amazing thing about Kyxha Spacedock. After all, the best spacedocks in the Oan Galarchy all seemed to have cloudless skies, many filled with stars even during the day, and the sky over the planet Kyxha was always cloud-free.

  The incredible number of Oans was not the amazing thing about Kyxha Spacedock. After all, more and more Oan planets were being terraformed to accommodate more and more people every day, and the human race was on another one of its famous population surges.

  The amazing thing about Kyxha Spacedock was the columns.

  On Kyxha, spaceships were berthed on the tops of columns. Due to Kyxhian environmental regulations, ships’ exhaust emissions were highly controlled on the ground. When the Oan Galarchy specified the need to put a spaceport on the planet Kyxha, the Kyxhians refused to accept the compromising of their atmosphere with ships’ emissions. And considering how much work and expense had been put into creating a viable atmosphere on Kyxha, they had every right to complain. Although the Galarchy had the power of ultimate law on all of its planets, it strove to avoid dictating local policy whenever possible, and deferred to Kyxhian desires in the matter.

  So Galarchy engineers created a system of columned berths designed to limit the amount of emissions that would reach the ground. With literally thousands of berths, some almost half a kilometer high, arranged in a perfect geometric pattern and filling a plateau that stretched to the horizon, Kyxha spaceport was inarguably the most unique and fascinating spacedock in all the Galarchy. In fact, it drew tourists from all over the Galarchy just to see it.

  The woman striding down the main avenue was clearly not interested in the forest of columns she passed through. That set her apart from the gawking tourists. So did the white business suit she wore, an outright anomaly among the working class personnel from old transports and cargo loaders that passed all around her.

  But what mostly separated her from the crowd was the woman herself. Her looks were striking, by any human standards. She was tall, taller than the average man, and much taller than the average Kyxhian. A businesslike blonde haircut framed a stunning face, and alert, intelligent eyes. The well-tailored suit served to highlight her lean, strong figure. And she walked with an air of authority, pride, and assurance.

  As she marched down the avenue, many men turned to watch her go past, and many of those smiled in appreciation. A few women turned as well, but to most of them, she may have been looked upon as competition, not attraction. Even a few native Kyxhians, who generally exhibited a complete lack of appreciation for the unaltered human figure (probably due to the height difference), took note of her passing.

  The attentions of her fellow Oan citizens were lost on her, however. She was giving all of her attention to where she was going, occasionally looking at the plaques mounted on the columns that indicated berth numbers and avenue names.

  Eventually, she noted a plaque and veered left... the only turn she had made since entering the spacedock. She continued on, past six more columns, and then approached a column to her right. A standard door was open in front of her. She pressed a hand on the announcer plate by the door, and waited.

  “Come on in!”

  The greeting had been in standard Oan, not local Kyxhian. The woman stepped slowly through the doorway.

  Like most of the columns in the spacedock, this one was hollow, and contained a full fabrication and servicing facility at its base and extending upward to its apex, designed to allow the occupant to repair most ships, or to build one from scratch. Most of the heaviest equipment was anchored to the walls of the column, leaving the floor largely empty except for control consoles, and the gantries that gave access to the upper areas of the column.

  A solitary man stood at a console roughly in the center of the column. Despite the greeting in Oan, he was Kyxhian… noticeably shorter than the standard human norm, with a barrel-shaped chest and arms clearly shaped for heavy labor. He waved at the woman to come in, did a final few manipulations at the console, then stepped around it to approach her.

  “Good morning, Commander! You’re right on time... didn’t have any trouble finding the place, I see.”

  “Not Commander,” the woman stated, her voice echoing through the column. “I’m not with the Rangers any more. I told you that before, Mr. Fefgren.”

  “Ah, so you did, so you did.” Fefgren met her halfway across the column, and offered a hand. “Ms. Kestral, then.”

  “You can call me Carolyn,” she said, and took his hand. “Especially if you’re finished.”

  “Of course I’m finished! It’s the 15th of Gena, isn’t it? My name is Tar Fefgren, isn’t it? I never finish a commission late!” Fefgren smiled widely and glanced up over their heads. “I just finished charging the batteries and calibrating the restart systems, and everything tests perfect. Ready to go up and see it?”

  “Oh, yes,” Carolyn Kestral nodded.

  “Then let’s go.”

  Fefgren led her over to a platform mounted to a rail that ran straight up along the column wall. They stepped in, and he tapped at the small control panel on the railing. The platform started upward at a brisk pace. As they rapidly left the ground behind, Fefgren glanced over at Kestral to see how she was handling the ascent. She seemed perfectly at ease, leaning casually against the platform railing and watching their ascent as they continued up.

  “No problem with heights, eh?” he ventured. “Must be all that Ranger training.”

  “Not everything I am comes fr
om the Rangers,” Kestral commented, not looking at him.

  Fefgren’s friendly smile faded a bit. “You never said that was a sore subject.”

  Kestral looked at him then. Her eyes softened. “Sorry. I’m just looking forward to starting the next chapter of my life, that’s all.”

  “Ah... understandable,” Fefgren nodded soberly. “In that case, welcome to your next chapter.”

  He gestured towards the open gantry, where banks of spotlights flooded the center of the Column interior, and the craft anchored there.

  “Nothing more beautiful than a brand new star ship, ready to take off for the first time,” Fefgren commented.

  For the first time since she’d arrived, Kestral grinned widely. “Except maybe when it’s yours.”

  Fefgren returned the grin and nodded knowingly, and joined her in examining the ship above them.

  Even for a small freighter, the ship looked handsome. The hull was aerodynamically tuned to allow it to function in atmospheric conditions... it was no bird, but it would not be too ungainly in the air. The twin thrusters mounted to the massive wing and backbone that extended across the top center of the ship, looked powerful, efficient, and fast, even without power. The alabaster hull was largely free of open ports or outside mechanisms, and it fairly glowed under the glare of the spotlights. Its lines were clean and efficient, but not entirely inelegant.

  “One Quicksilver-class star freighter,” Fefgren stated proudly. “Rated 20-40, top speed 3.5C, crew quarters for ten. Comes standard with one remote sensory drone and one backup, a self-updating Oan map database, two standard defensive particle cannons, and four tractor field emitters. The additional two cannons are already installed...” Fefgren gestured... “there, and on the opposite side.”

  “Very good,” Kestral nodded. “Is the drone active?”

  “Yes,” Fefgren replied, “and already keyed to you.”

  “Let’s see it.”

  “Right here, Ma’am.”

  Kestral swung her head to the left, away from Fefgren. Less than a meter away, a featureless dark oval slightly smaller than a human head floated in the air, keeping pace with the rising platform. A play of multicolored lights flashed underneath its glassy, nearly-opaque surface, but otherwise, no moving parts could be seen.