Rayne

RAYNE

  By

  Roger Schultz

  Copyright 2015 Roger Schultz

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Front Cover image:

  Copyright Roger Schultz, 2015

  Thank you Cheyenne for inspiring me to write and to Heidi for naming my character. Also to my sister Vera and brother Robert for all their work editing this book.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the author

  CHAPTER 1

  The ship’s bridge rocked with the impact and threw her to the hard metal floor. The sound of adults yelling and the voices of a dozen different alarms screamed through her ears until her brain vibrated in her head. The harsh smell of burning electronics filled her nose and lungs as she struggled to breathe and then gagged.

  “Rayne! What are you doing up here?” Her mother ran forward, picking her off the ground and securing her in the captain’s chair, her father’s chair. Her mother’s normally happy face was creased in panic and fear.

  “I’m sorry, mom.” Tears ran freely down her face as her own fear grew exponentially at the sight of her terrified mother. “I was scared.” There was a loud bang and the ship began to shudder violently.

  Her mother clung to the command chair. She put her head to Rayne’s and spoke in her ear to be heard over the chaos.

  “It’ll be okay, baby. It’ll be okay.” She laid a soft hand on the side of her face. “Remember, I love you,” and then she was jerked from her grasp and out the gaping hole that suddenly appeared in the command deck. Rayne screamed, her cry swallowed by the rush of atmosphere blowing out the jagged hole.

  ***

  Captain Gault was career fleet. He’d seen more space than most, but not nearly a half of it by far. At just over six feet tall, he was lean and physically fit. Discipline cut through every fabric of his being with rules and procedures the beacons that determined his course. He had a quiet confidence and intensity that demanded obedience, making a raised voice an unneeded waste of breath. When Captain Gault spoke, you listened and then did as you were ordered. Captain Gault had survived more space engagements than any other officer in the fleet and he definitely knew his business.

  The current business was a rescue mission in the Ross 614 star system. At 13.3 light years from earth, the system was just off the major trade route to Procyon. Ross 614 itself was a binary system of little importance. It had only one habitable planet with sparse resources in the outlying moons, meteors, and planets. For this reason, none of the major corporations were willing to invest resources in a system with so little potential.

  Despite the sparse resources, there were always those looking to get away from the crowds. Earth’s billions had multiplied exponentially in the last five hundred years, filling space with its masses. Finding an undeveloped system within easy reach that had been properly surveyed was becoming less frequent. It would probably remain so until the population could no longer support itself at its current limits. Until then, small groups looking for a better life would continue looking for the next frontier in the known available space. Ross 614 in particular had been the destination for a number of such pioneers over the last ten years. So far, none of the attempted colonizations had taken root, ending in disaster of one type or another.

  Navigating space was a difficult prospect at best, even inside the known trade routes. Less traveled space tended to be sparsely mapped and danger from unknowns rose the further away from civilized space the colonies settled. Meteors, comets, micro black holes as well as tricky and unexpected planetary gravity wells or debris clouds were just a few of the unknowns that could end a voyage in a puff of smoke and debris. Ross 614 contained most of these risks. The binary suns played tug of war with many of the celestial bodies in the system. Over the course of millennia, moons had been ripped from planets, planets themselves shifted from their regular orbits, and debris fields formed that made navigation in some parts off the system impossible. Consequently, it wasn’t a place you came without your “A” game. And yet, many made the attempt.

  Captain Gault’s current rescue mission included searching for the most recent lost pioneer group. Another group of Mormons attempting to settle yet another New Jerusalem no doubt. The captain ordered the star ship to full stop just outside the limits of the twirling suns gravity well. The bridge crew snapped to with practiced precision and began scanning the system from its position perpendicular to the orbital plane. Radioactive debris fields were usually the telltale giveaway of a mid-space collision and considering the difficult nature of navigating this particular system, it would be the most likely reason for the pioneer group’s disappearance. They would scan for those first and then start a planet by planet survey looking for wreckage. Generally, ships of any type let off transponder signals in an emergency, requesting help from anyone in system. Since there wasn’t anyone else in this system, the call for help would have gone unheard. If the transponder had been damaged on impact that could explain a lack of signal, although it was unlikely since the equipment was heavily shielded for just that reason.

  “Captain?” The captain walked to the communications console where a young ensign sat with a look of slight confusion on his face.

  “Report, ensign.” Captain Gault stood at his shoulder scanning the data console as the ensign worked.

  “I’ve got an emergency signal, sir,” the ensign said surprised.

  “So, what’s the problem?” An emergency transponder signal should be good news. Procedure dictated the next step should be the launch of a probe to the crash site, followed by a rescue team to retrieve any survivors.

  “It’s not coming from the pioneer vessel transponder. In fact, it’s not coming from any vessel at all.”

  “If it’s not coming from the pioneer vessel, then where’s it coming from?” Captain Gault asked.

  The ensign took several seconds to double check his readings.

  “The point of origin is coming from the fourth planet out, but that’s not what’s got me confused. The signal type is all wrong. It’s not an emergency beacon signal at all, sir. This is a reinforcement request from a T80.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Captain Gault replied. “Are you sure the signal isn’t originating from one of our own onboard units?”

  “Positive, sir. I’ve checked it twice.” The ensign pointed to the display showing the system’s fourth planet. “It’s coming from this area here, near the equator.”

  Captain Gault looked at the flashing signal on the display screen. It seemed impossible, but there it was. He had seen this type of signal often enough during combat operations. The T80 had the ability to signal reinforcements or extraction just like any other combat system. But to find it here, in such an unexpected place, was beyond unusual. There were no combat operations in this area and no reason for it to be here.

  The captain made his decision which, as always, was dictated by procedure. “Navigation. Bring us into orbit around that rock. When we establish orbit, I want visual confirmation.” Foremost in the captain’s mind was the possibility
of ambush. If something was too good to be true it probably was, and a T80 signal requesting reinforcements was just plain unbelievable.

  “Sound the general alert and keep scanning our six. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t want any surprises.” Captain Gault sank back to the command chair to think through procedure and his tactical options. If this was a trap or ambush, there could be an enemy cruiser waiting behind one of the nearby planets or asteroids. He didn't want to be caught flat footed.

  The ship made slow headway through the system’s debris fields. It would take approximately three hours to make orbit. Even without having to avoid the debris, slipping their ship into orbit would take some doing. Their scouting class vessel didn't turn on a dime like a small fighter, and bringing it to the correct position took precision planning and execution. There was no rushing the process. Coming in too fast could have disastrous consequences, not the least of which was not having enough thrust to stop before slamming into the planet's surface. So, despite the need and desire for haste, they moved at a snail’s pace.

  ***

  Rayne ran blindly in terror through the now deserted corridors of the ship. First her mother, now her father was dead, shot before her eyes shortly after their crash landing. The floors were tilted at a steep angle, making running difficult as she dodged and crawled past live electrical feeds dangling from ceilings and walls. Gun fire cracked behind her and metal projectiles peppered the bulkhead next to her. The spray of fragmenting bullets cut into her unprotected skin as she ducked into a nearby corridor leading to the cargo bay. She ran as fast as her young legs would carry her, upward toward the partially closed doors. She fought her way through the twisted doors and scanned for an escape or place to hide. She ran back and forth through the mostly empty cargo bay looking, but found nothing. There was nowhere to hide. Most of the crates of supplies had been lost to the atmosphere on their decent and the remaining wreckage left nowhere for a wiry fourteen year old girl, except the T80.

  It had been anchored to the floor, but the retaining straps had snapped on impact, leaving the battle suit in a slightly disorganized heap in the corner. Normally powered down during shipping and storage, the T80 was fully operational, just waiting for its pilot to step in. Rayne didn’t ask why and didn’t actually care. She did care about the heavy foot falls she could hear approaching the cargo bay door. Perhaps someone had turned it on. Perhaps it had been activated during the impact of the crash. Who cared? It was big, heavy and the only place offering any type of concealment or protection.

  Rayne jumped inside through the open front. The T80 was designed for an adult of any size, though the ideal pilot was considered to be between one hundred seventy to one hundred eighty-five centimeters. At one hundred seventy centimeters tall, she was a veritable giant of a fourteen year old and the T80 was a near perfect fit. The interior was coated with a black bio gel, integrated with the battle suit’s functions and systems. Upon contact with human skin, the T80 would launch a 10 second countdown and then seal itself with the pilot inside. Rayne had seen the techs tinkering with it on her trip.

  The T80 began its countdown as the heavy footsteps came closer, stopping at the cargo bay doors, which were ajar and slightly askew. Sparks danced off hanging wires and Rayne heard nothing for a moment. The counter ticked down to four. The cargo doors were forced open by unseen hands. She lay perfectly still as the counter ticked to three, hoping her lack of movement would conceal her presence in the open T80 frame. The heavy steps moved her direction. Two. Closer. One.

  The T80 sealed itself in one smooth movement, the bio gel felt cool as it filled in around her torso, arms and legs. She felt a mild electric charge move through her body and the gel heated to a comfortable body temperature. The battle suit swallowed her, adapted to her size and integrated itself to her form. In an instant, Rayne became aware of so much more around her; not with her eyes, because there were no visual interfaces. She saw the world now as the T80 saw it, in infrared, radar, and a dozen other ways that bypassed the optical nerve and streamed directly to her brain.

  Rayne registered a dull thud. The T80 flashed warning they were taking fire. Still terrified, Rayne did the only thing she could think to do. She ran. The T80 barreled right through the invisible firing form, bursting through the broken cargo bay doors and into the corridor. She ran down the incline crashing against the walls like a drunken sailor and out of the ship into a jungle clearing outside in a tangled mess of limbs and flying dirt. Rayne scrambled back to her feet, running for the tree line as automatic rifle fire sounded behind her and projectiles dug into the armor of her legs and back. She crashed to the ground again as the T80 outran her ability to control it. Terrified beyond reason, she clawed her way to her feet again and crashed into the undergrowth.

  ***

  Navigation brought the ship smoothly into orbit around Ross 614's fourth planet. It was like most habitable planets; a little green, a little water and clouds circling the globe as it took its course around the twin twirling suns. They had pulled into a steady orbit on the day side of the equator.

  Captain Gault circled the large three dimensional display at the center of the bridge. "Launch the probe." He maintained his cool and calm tone; a towering beacon of discipline. If he got excited, the crew got excited, and he found that people who got excited often got stressed beyond their capacity to think clearly.

  The ensign had been waiting for the command and immediately launched the probe, a one meter ball packed with as many cameras and sensors as could fit in the small space. Used for both science expeditions and military operations, the probes could be launched from high orbit and reach the surface in only twenty minutes. The cameras were active as the probe left the ship and began zooming on to the target area as it began to fall.

  Captain Gault watched the display. He turned his head slightly to the communications console where he ensign monitored the probe’s progress and incoming data streams.

  "Make sure you keep one eye on the rest of the system, ensign. Don't get too focused on that probe. "

  "Aye, sir,” his fingers danced across the console as he checked the other incoming data streams. "All clear so far. I'll keep an eye on it."

  As the probe descended into the atmosphere, mountains, rivers and other geographic features began to distinguish themselves. The target area near the equator appeared to be lush and green. It was mostly mountainous jungle environment, but he could see it gave over to open plains that stretched toward the eastern hemisphere until finally running against a large ocean. It was always nice to see land when you'd been in space for an extended period of time as they had.

  "Are we still receiving the T80 reinforcement signal?"

  "Aye, sir. It's been continuous since first contact. We should be getting close enough in a few minutes to pick up a visual if nothing is obscuring the view. I've marked the target area with the red triangle."

  The semblance of order on the bridge was broken by a loud curse from the ensign.

  "Did you see that?" Some of the other bridge personnel craned their necks to take a peak.

  "Get a hold of yourself, ensign," Captain Gault said quietly. He was less than pleased by the lapse in discipline. The junior officer returned to his seat quickly, looking properly chastened. "What have you got?"

  He pointed to the area within the triangle.

  "A large explosion coming directly from the signal's point of origin, sir."

  "Let me see the play back." Captain Gault walked over to the bridge screen and watched the image replay. Even with the zoom on high power, it was still hard to pick out any detail. As he looked, an explosive blast lit the screen; flashing blue as it pushed outward and then collapsing back into itself without a sound. It wasn't a conventional blast. Those were typically recognized by the orange plume of flame they produced. No, this was something else. Something he had seen often during his combat career. It was
a high energy detonation from a laser pulse canon or similar weapon. The captain's heart skipped a beat. This could really be a T80. But how did it get here?

  "Ensign. Give me the live feed again." The image shifted. During the minutes they had been reviewing the other video feed, the probe had reached an altitude of two thousand meters and hovered. The probe was tracking the signal, but the viewing area showed nothing but the tops of the jungle trees. "That's not showing anything useful, what else have you got?"

  "Try this one. It picks up on any metal objects and I’ve overlaid it with infrared. If it's really a T80, it should show up bright as day in this environment. The organics will be muted to gray, metal will show as white, and anything with a heat signature will be red."

  Captain Gault stood before the large view screen, stunned. There it was, in black and white; a T80 battle suit being piloted through the jungle on a planet it had no business being on. Taking a closer look, he noted something odd about the way it moved. He'd seen and worked with T80s for much of his career. He was familiar with them and had several currently on board. This one was not moving right and appeared damaged. The data feed tracking its speed showed it moving at only thirty kilometers per hour; slow for a T80. The other thing he noticed were tiny balls of light tracking toward its position like horizontally falling rain.

  "Ensign. Zoom the image out. I want to see everything within a square kilometer." The image shrunk as the view of the surrounding area expanded. Captain Gault frowned and turned to the crew. "Full alert gentlemen. Get those marines in the hold suited up. I want those T80s on the ground in no less than thirty minutes.”

  ***

  Sgt. Mike Weber reclined against the steel bulkhead of the weapons bay, watching his fire teams. Some played cards, some cleaned gear, while others slept. Like marines had done for hundreds of years, they stood ready to jump into action. Until then, they passed the time any way they could. More often than not the wait was for nothing, which for any marine was just about the most irritating thing possible. Marines were born to fight and when they didn’t get to fight, they got pissy. The last four times they’d been put on alert, it had been cancelled after hours of expectant waiting.