Suspended animation

Blast from the past

Index: Different times | Some assembly required | More pew for your credit | Trust the Plan | The Lennart Manoeuvre | Cloak and Railguns

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Captain Lennart’s lungs filled with hot air and he coughed – he’d inhaled smoke.

Eyesight foggy and head still dizzy after Universe knows how long a period spent in suspended animation, Lennart stumbled out of his stasis pod. What happened after his own starship was shot down? How many of his crewmates’ escape pods did this vessel pick up after the battle?

He remembered that there were rumors circulating among the higher command echelon, talks of a second offensive. Where would they get the starships from, after losing so many in defense of the homeworld, he had absolutely no idea. Perhaps the Star Alliance Naval command was willing and able to spare more of their vessels?

It was a complete mystery to him, but he was alive and that was the most important thing now. From what he could gather by exploring his surroundings with touch, his stasis pod was maglocked inside the spacious medical bay of a unknown starship. After a second hazy glance, he was able to recognize some items and pieces of equipment, which led him to believe that was a vessel of Terran origin. Most indicative was the presence of comfy traditional medi-beds and a full sized, drone operation table.

He sheepishly inhaled again and almost choked on the barely visible fumes, which left a metallic aftertaste in his mouth. Mind hazy, he forgot that his body was still connected to the pod’s multiple life support sensors, made a hesitant step forward and slipped. Instead his face suddenly and painfully meeting with the cold surface of this starship’s floor plating however, something soft cushioned his fall.

Eyesight slowly returning to normal, the captain noticed someone lying next to his stasis pod. He couldn’t see who that person was because of the spacesuit, but he or she looked human and wounded. Painfully he inhaled once more and noticed the sizable hole in what now to him was clearly her, upper torso.

The suit’s armor-plating was molten, the flesh underneath charred and she seemed to have lost quite a lot of blood already. In fact it was said bodily fluid, stepping in which made him lose his footing. The gunshot had reached her while she was operating the controls of his pod and she’d returned fire, a compact laser pistol still rolling beside her right thigh.

There was an armored foot wearing heavy duty alien mag-boots, part of it visible from where he stood. Seemed to him that whoever this assailant was, he or she was very, very dead because the floor plating outside the still opened door of the medical bay was covered with blood too.

Firefights like this were often short and deadly, both combatants exchanging shots in point blank range. The second and third beam which this attacker fired missed her, hitting his pod instead. Miraculously, the two molten holes indicated that the beams passed mere inches away from his center torso!

Not a person to fret about what would’ve happened, Lennart quickly reached inside his pod and pulled the emergency medispray. It was one of the last items he still had and part of his suspended animation survival kit. Fingers still numb, he fumbled while pressing its activation button a few times, until finally the lifesaving gel sealed her wound.

Hoping she was at least out of mortal danger, the captain reached inside his pod again and produced another piece of his emergency gear – a breathing mask. Fidgeting with its clamps, he somehow managed to put it on before the fumes completely suffocated him, and finally took a breath of clean air. The mask had a small breathing tube connected to a reserve air supply canister, which he locked on his belt. It was also fitted with a high-quality, replaceable air filter and very much looked like a Great war gas mask.

Lennart checked if the female medic had her helmet’s air filters activated, and sighed a sigh of relief when he noticed that they were still intact. It was only now, after his lungs had been supplied with clean air, that he realized one very important detail – the ship looked too new, too modern. At least half the system indicators which hovered above the nearby medical bed he couldn’t discern the meaning of.

Moreover, after gently picking up the medic and placing her light as a feather body on the surgical table, another automatic system activated by itself. None of the vessels he served or trained on had anything even resembling this! Indeed he was aiming to locate the scanner controls, attempt to discern how bad she was wounded, but the system did all of this and more, by itself.

First, a thin security field, transparent yet still gently glowing, surrounded the surgical bed. He saw that fresh air fluttered from tiny holes on the table and again blinked confused – a self-pressurized operating bubble?! Then, an autonomous medical drone hovered from behind another one of the beds, dutifully scanned the patient and one of its manipulators slid open her helmet.

Lennart blinked confused; his eyes saw a young woman, no older than seventeen perhaps, her face twisted in agony. She was way too young to be serving on an actual warship and especially one stationed on the front lines! Naval regulations forbade the recruitment of crewmates under the age of eighteen, not under normal circumstances that is.

Still somewhat staggered, Lennart carefully squatted and grabbed her laser pistol from the floor. If someone came right now and killed him because he was unarmed, while a perfectly good weapon was rolling beside his feet...

He leveled the gun and aimed through its perfectly aligned holo sights; it was something he was well accustomed to shooting with – a Walter LP 65. No, after a second and more throughout inspection, the weapon was a much newer model. It had the LP 91 etched on its grip and he blinked even more confused. If what he knew about the manufacturer was correct, Walter Co’ or whoever was it who crafted this gun, they were making a copy of a weapon designed in 1991!

With a shaking hand, Lennart pulled the power pack out, checked if the pistol’s beam chamber was damaged and then reloaded it again. On the pack there was a tiny LED indicator, showing how many shots were left. When he flipped the safety lever off, he could see the same number lightly glowing over the tip of his trigger finger.

Ingenious!

Just to be sure, Lennart checked the sides of his stasis pod and after a few seconds of search his fingers found what he was looking for. The survival knife he locked on his belt, next to the spare air canister; a sturdy weapon, this was one of these new vibroblades everyone was talking about. Although its blade was short, no longer than five inches, it could cut through metal like it was slicing butter. Now he was armed and whoever these aliens were who had attacked the starship whose crew had saved him, they’d be sorry.

He was an excellent shot and good with the blade; Terran martial tradition was still very much alive and well on Earth.

People were educated, taught how to defend themselves and their loved ones from an early age. Lennart was a seven times champion of his officer school’s marksmanship contest. One of the best academies in France, the Stargazers’ Yard yearly churned out scores of well-trained starship officers. That was until it got bombed to hell during Pirate Lord Mahimm’s invasion of 1969.

Like most of his peers, then commander Lennart, served aboard one of the many training solar yachts, which their school used to better polish the skills of their pupils. Armed with makeshift weaponry crafted from mining lasers, the four thinly armored vessels were quickly pressed into service. He was then promoted to full captain... temporarily.

Nobody expected them to survive, in fact no one expected that most of Earth’s population could escape with their lives. It was a do or die type of situation which they were thrown into and not surprisingly, quite a lot of them were killed.

His own lot was luckier than most – Lennart’s vessel got hit just as it was leaving Mars’s orbit and by a glancing shot. It was nonetheless nearly destroyed and except himself, only two other crewmates survived to face the invader. One single shuttle, filled with pirate star troopers came for them and they fought for their lives.

Took them six hours to defeat the aliens but by then, Lennart was the lone, wounded survivor. For hours, he floated inside one hole ridden enemy ship, surrounded by slagged power packs and bloodied corpses. Before his air reserves would expire, reinforcements came and picked him up.

From his rescuers he learned that the battle for Earth ended and the invader was somehow defeated. That and tens of millions were kidnapped into slavery, taken by the enemy as these vile, obnoxious “clanners” ran away. His own family didn’t survive, but many others did and among those taken away, were some of his peers’ loved ones.

Lennart was a stern man and mourned the passing of his kin in angry silence. Moreover, he knew that time for retribution would come later, saving those who needed aid was his immediate duty. Since he was one of the few officers who lived, Terran Naval command made his temporary promotion permanent and he was given another vessel to captain.

That was when he discovered a brand new captain’s uniform while sifting through one of his dead friend’s belongings – the same one Lennart wore till this day. Miraculously, this case full of his friend’s clothes had somehow survived the bombings, even though that entire quarter of Paris didn’t.

He stood there, the beautiful uniform clutched in his hand, its navy blue shirt fluttering in the wind, screaming, crying people all around. Some of them looked at him and in their pain filled eyes, he could clearly see a plea for vengeance, one that a man like him could never deny. He patted the uniform jacket and sighed while tracing its torn, sliced by shrapnel fabric with his finger.

It was a bloody, burned mess now; during the last battle of his ship, a “loaned” Star Alliance cutter, two alien vessels caught him by surprise. He had no time to put on his spacesuit and even if he did wear it, the thinly armored thing wouldn’t have offered much protection anyways.

The two corvette size vessels unleashed bouts of deadly particle beams and from such a close range, they soon blasted large holes in his ship’s armor and hull. He ordered what was left of the crew to the escape pods and himself remained on the bridge, attempting to cover their escape with what weapons were still operational. Pods were installed on Earth by Terran engineers and each had a single stasis chamber, equipped with a sturdy power supply.

That measure was deemed necessary by Terran Naval command since they were operating far away from their borders. The possibility of an allied starship being close and able to provide immediate assistance was pretty slim. Their best chances of survival was “sleeping it out” and, after what happened in the end, he had to do so himself.

Instead of finishing them off, the two alien corvettes spooled their hyperdrives and leapt away, leaving him alone on a shot to hell starship, hull shrouded in plasma fires. Captain Lennart was not an engineer and besides, the old, mothballed only one month ago starship was of alien design. Therefore he crawled, uniform burning to the nearest escape pod hatch, leapt inside and punched the launch button.

Something must’ve gone wrong with the pod’s life support because it began venting atmo soon after he launched. Lennart had no other choice but to quickly lie inside the stasis capsule and activate it, even before he had any chance of contacting the rest of his crew via wireless.

A muffled sound came from the corridor outside and Lennart quickly aimed his pistol at the door. Through it and most casually walked inside the medical bay one tall, assault spacesuit wearing Clanner. The alien was armed with a heavy beam rifle, grappling hook attached under its barrel and on the man’s left pauldron, a Clan sign was clearly visible.

“Die Aleska filth!” – screamed enraged Lennart and immediately pulled the trigger, his Walter already aimed at the Clanner’s face.

The first beam he fired vanished an inch before it hit the pirate’s faceplate and angrily, he fired again. Exactly the same thing happened, followed by a bout of vicious laughter and then his enemy spoke in Fringe speak:

“Pathetic... You Terrans are so weak and your guns, useless! You don’t even deserve to be taken prisoner – you’d be a waste of air!”

His opponent perhaps thought himself safe; a tiny, portable shield generator shrouded the pirate’s body with an invisible bubble of energy. It did protect against beams and physical attacks even, although every shield had its weak spots. Moreover, no matter how thick was said field, it did not last forever!

Lennart moved quick, too quick for a person who just woke up from a prolonged suspended animation, but he didn’t care.

His enemy was Aleska!

Those pieces of shit were responsible for glassing almost half of Paris and turning it into a charred, ruin-filled crater. The flow of adrenaline sped his reaction and even though the pirate managed to fire once, he was no longer there. A beastly weapon, the clanner’s rifle unleashed a powerful particle beam, which blasted apart the bed Lennart aimed to take cover behind.

While his enemy sluggishly and arrogantly aimed at him, he leapt yet not away, but closer. Shields with that thick a field often had one and very significant drawback – they could be defeated by firing from extreme point blank range. If one was skilled and accurate, moved inside the widely dispersed field, perhaps a few feet away from the enemy, their attacks would connect.

Lennart quickly gathered that this pirate was what the Aleska called a ranger. The Clanner’s shield was calibrated for long range combat – it wasn’t focused at all! He slid on the floor and fired again; this time the beam hit and bore one tiny hole into his enemy’s faceplate. The stunned, wounded and now angry clanner swung with his rifle, probably aiming to unleash one sweeping beam, his gun set on wide dispersion.

Lennart wore but a torn uniform made from cloth, and that young woman on the medical table, a unarmored spacesuit. Both would die if they were hit by this alien’s powerful weapon; from this range, even a dispersed beam could cook them alive. Lowering his aim, he fired at the rifle and from such a close range, hit his mark. His enemy’s weapon exploded and some of the shrapnel littered Lennart’s left arm, shell shock from the explosion caused his ears and nose to bleed.

“That was brave, almost too brave for a weakling human like yourself.” – Roared the pirate’s voice, as his enemy unlocked a wide-bladed vibrosword from his belt.

“You will pay for destroying my prized beam rifle with your life, Terran!”

Swinging his sword with apparent skill, the clanner attacked.

Lennart fired two shots, aiming at his enemy’s sword holding hand. Without the shield protecting him, the pirate was now vulnerable and these beautiful but nevertheless deadly blue beams, bore molten holes into the pirate’s armor-plating. Lennart grabbed his own blade yet, instead of clashing with this armored and sword wielding clanner, he haphazardly dodged one swing and then threw it.

Again his aim was peerless and the small vibroblade pierced the pirate’s sword wielding arm, its handle now stuck from the biceps. Losing his stance and screaming from pain, the pirate moved, which helped Lennart’s dagger cut more of his flesh and armor.

Bleeding profusely from all the shrapnel wounds, the Frenchman nevertheless hugged his enemy, and stuck the Walter’s barrel through that tiny hole in his faceplate. Before firing his last shot, which turned the clanner’s head into a burning paste, Lennart screamed:

“The dead of Paris claim your life today, Aleska scum!”

Captain Lennart rolled backwards after killing the clanner and with a bloodied hand attempted to reload the Walter. He prudently remembered to grab one spare power pack from her equipment belt earlier. Yet, his wounded arm was no longer listening to what he wanted it to do and blood once again flowed all over the floor plating.

His breathing slowed; vision dimming, the captain noticed something, a small figure standing behind him. He thought he heard a voice and then, then everything went dark...

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