Dalvaron station singula.., p.1
Dalvaron Station (Singularities Book 3), page 1
DALVARON STATION
SINGULARITIES BOOK 3
ANTHONY JAMES
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Also by Anthony James
© 2023 Anthony James
All rights reserved
The right of Anthony James to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser
Illustration © Tom Edwards
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ONE
Having recently captured the huge alien warship Ragnar-3 and escaped from the underground facility on Ilvaron, Captain William Lanson had set a course for a location, the coordinates of which he’d discovered within the vessel’s databanks. That location was a place called Dalvaron, though he wasn’t sure if the name referred to a planet or a facility.
In ten days, the Ragnar-3 would exit lightspeed, and then Lanson would find the answer.
For the first two days after escaping the massive enemy vessel known as Tyrantor, Lanson and his crew had devoted themselves entirely to the task of familiarising themselves with the Ragnar-3’s operation. Luckily, the controls, the monitoring tools, the sensors and almost everything else had been designed with similar underlying principles to the equivalents on a Human Confederation warship. This ensured that by the end of the two days, Lanson was confident that he and his crew were ready to take the Ragnar-3 into battle.
Unfortunately, the Singularity option on the weapons panel remained locked down, as did the related data files. Given that Lanson and his crew had been given command access to the Ragnar-3 on Ilvaron, and the Singularity menu was still greyed out, it seemed likely that vital weapons and defensive functions were contained within.
This was the reason for the mission to Dalvaron – a place which Lanson believed was the central control station for the Infinity Lens. Once there, he hoped to find a way to elevate himself and his crew to a higher security tier – a tier with access to the Singularity menu.
Whether his plan would work, Lanson had no idea. All he knew was the alien hardware recognized that he and his crew, along with the squad of soldiers accompanying the mission, had been physically modified by the Galos device located on Cornerstone and this, for some reason, permitted them high level access to primary assets like the Ragnar-3.
Equally, he could only hope those same Galos modifications would be sufficient for the hardware at the Infinity Lens central control station to grant him access to the Singularity menu.
Two days after deciding to set a course for Dalvaron, Lanson was still coming to terms with the fragility of the threads holding everything together.
On the plus side – albeit a minor plus – Lieutenant Fay Perry, one of the warship’s two sensor officers, had discovered that the species responsible for the construction of the Ragnar-3 had called themselves Aral. While knowing the name brought no tangible benefits, Lanson was nonetheless pleased at the discovery.
At the same time, Perry had learned that the aliens which had arrived at Scalos on the warship Tyrantor, were known as Ixtar. Other than the names, facts were few on the ground.
Once the Ragnar-3’s controls were no longer a challenge, Lanson decided it was time to explore the vessel’s interior, and he excused himself from the bridge.
Despite the vastness of the warship, its personnel areas were relatively compact. Tight passages led to claustrophobic rooms, where consoles and wall panels had been only sparsely installed. The lighting was low to the point of gloominess and the temperatures bordered on freezing. A tangy scent of metal pervaded the air, and the drone of the propulsion was soothing.
During his circuit of the interior, Lanson discovered several maintenance hatches in the floors and the walls. Opening each as he found them, he discovered either long passages which vanished into the distance, or steep, dark steps, some of which seemed to continue forever.
These were likely the maintenance access tunnels, and Lanson was sure that if he followed them, he would find his way to the Ragnar-3’s missile clusters, or its Gradar magazines, or perhaps to the main control hardware which governed the warship’s engine modules. Maybe he’d even end up in the turret housing the two massive topside guns.
Given the overwhelming size of the Ragnar-3 – at more than five thousand metres in length and approaching two thousand metres where its flanks were the highest – Lanson didn’t want to commit himself to explorations which might potentially last for the better part of a day, with no real benefit except to assuage his own sense of curiosity.
Lanson’s sleeping quarters were located not far from the bridge, along a passage only just wide enough for two to pass. His room was one of twelve designated for use by the Ragnar-3’s original bridge officers, and contained a bed, a metal-frame chair, and a wall-mounted screen. Showering and toilet facilities were accessed through a powered door.
The bed itself was about the right length and width for Lanson, suggesting the alien species which had constructed the Ragnar-3 were approximately the same size as a human. Aside from that, the Aral were a mystery, though he was keen to learn more about them.
With the warship’s controls mastered, and its interior explored, Lanson spent his off-duty hours in his quarters, either asleep or in thought, or in the Ragnar-3’s main mess area, which was no more than five minutes’ journey from the bridge.
During his years in the military, Lanson had visited numerous mess areas, and this one hardly varied from the standard template. Two rows of rectangular metal tables were bolted to the floor, each with two benches for seating. Lanson estimated the mess area was designed to accommodate in the region of forty personnel, depending on the ass space required by the original aliens who built the warship.
On one occasion, four days into the voyage, Lanson was standing at one of the two replicators in the mess area, deciding whether his breakfast for the day should be purple solids, green mush, dark blue liquid, or a combination of all three.
Settling for a green mush, which he knew would taste vaguely like fried potato, and a cup of water, Lanson sat at the nearest table. He was currently the only occupant of the mess room, and he spent a quiet few minutes thinking about events since his ill-timed arrival on Cornerstone.
Movement made him turn his head, just as Sergeant Evander Gabriel arrived, accompanied by several members of his squad.
“Captain Lanson,” said Gabriel in greeting.
“Sergeant,” said Lanson with a nod.
Soon, Gabriel had made his selection at the replicator. He waited for an invitation and then sat opposite Lanson, having placed his suit helmet and gauss rifle carefully at his feet. On his tray, the soldier’s meal consisted of a variety of colours and textures, none of which looked particularly appetising.
Private Mitch Davison parked himself next to Gabriel, looking somewhat pleased for himself.
“Can I tempt you with an insect, Captain?” he asked, indicating the metal bowl on his tray, which contained many of what did indeed resemble locusts, albeit with a light red colour.
“Thanks for the offer, Private,” said Lanson. “I’ve just eaten a big pile of mush, and I’m not sure I’m ready for anything more.”
“Your loss, sir,” said Davison, crunching down on a couple of maybe-insects and chewing with a look of enormous pleasure that was probably faked.
Lanson turned his attention to Sergeant Gabriel. “Have you finished testing the weapons you found in the Ragnar-3’s armouries yet?” he asked.
“Pretty much, Captain,” said Gabriel. “Like we already discussed, there’s a bunch of different armaments, and crates of ammunition. The light gauss rifles seem to possess a similar punch to our own, and the high-calibre ones could likely put a hole through a squad of Sagh’eld if they were stupid enough to be standing in a line.”
“But you’re happy to stick with what you know,” said Lanson.
“For the moment, Captain,” said Gabriel. “Of course we have no way to replace the ammunition for our current loadouts, so it may be that we have to start using these Aral guns sooner rath
“I can’t promise you a return to base anytime soon, Sergeant, so maybe you should get in some practice with these new weapons.”
“Yes, sir, that’s already underway.” Gabriel gave a half smile. “Except for the explosives. There’s not enough room to test those on the Ragnar-3.”
“How many rockets is Private Castle carrying?”
“Six in the tube and six spare. And the pack of explosives Private Galvan found on the New Beginning is half empty - he used a bunch of charges in the Scalos facility,” said Gabriel.
“You might have to do some field testing, Sergeant. I can’t tell you whether there’ll be a need for a deployment once we reach our destination, but I wouldn’t lay bets either way.”
“If you’re hoping to obtain higher level access to the Aral hardware, I have a feeling we’ll need to attend a security station in person, Captain.”
“That may well be the case, Sergeant,” said Lanson.
“Have you learned anything more about the Tyrantor, or the Ixtar, Captain?” asked Private Ashley Teague from the adjacent table.
“Nothing beyond what I told you all yesterday, but there is some good news, though it’s not one hundred percent confirmed,” said Lanson. “Lieutenants Turner and Perry are nine-tenths sure the area encompassed within Sector 3 does not include Human Confederation territory.”
“That’s great!” said Teague. “What about the Sagh’eld? Is their territory within Sector 3?”
“We’re not so sure about that, Private,” said Lanson. “It’s likely they’re outside the current range of the Infinity Lens, but we can’t be sure.”
“Do we know what happened to the Aral, Captain?” asked Private Miguel Damico. “It seems to me like the Aral were fighting the Ixtar, and now they’re extinct.”
“That’s one possibility,” said Lanson. “But it wouldn’t explain why the Aral facility on Scalos, and the Ilvaron base were undamaged. If the two species were at war, I wouldn’t have expected those places to be abandoned – the Ixtar would have had to take them by force.”
“Does it matter one way or the other?” asked Private Stanton Castle. “Aral or Ixtar, we’re just going to shoot them anyway.”
“Humanity already has enough enemies, soldier,” said Lanson patiently. “I’d rather not kill anyone or anything that might end up as our friends.”
“I’d like to think those friendly aliens exist, Captain,” said Castle. “Somewhere out there in the universe.” He shrugged.
“What if the Aral knew about the Ixtar because they have the Infinity Lens up and running in a different sector?” asked Corporal Catina Hennessey. “Maybe they were watching from afar, without the two species ever meeting.”
“I reckon there’s elements of truth in that, Corporal,” said Lanson. Hennessey was good at coming up with ideas. “But there’s plenty still unanswered.”
“What would be the fun in life if we knew everything?” said Hennessey.
Lanson smiled. “I’d settle for knowing more than I do right now.”
“Do we have any idea how long the Tyrantor will take to find us once we arrive at this control station, sir?” asked Gabriel, obviously keen to ask a few of the questions he’d been thinking up.
“The short answer is no,” said Lanson. “It’s possible the enemy warship won’t have a way to reliably track us because of the false trails the Ragnar-3 is leaving, but this is all new to us Sergeant. The Ixtar might have other tech we don’t know about.”
“Maybe the Tyrantor has bigger fish to fry,” said Corporal Brad Ziegler. “The enemy warship could have gone after a different target.”
“You almost said that with a straight face, Corporal,” said Private Rocky Chan.
“Yeah, I nearly believed you were serious,” said Castle.
Lanson looked down at his tray and wondered if he was ready for another helping of mush. Deciding against it, he drained his water and rose from the bench. “It’ll be a few days before we arrive, Sergeant Gabriel. I’m sure we’ll speak again beforehand.”
“Yes, sir.”
With the conversation over, Lanson returned to the bridge, his stomach gurgling either from an excess of mush or because he hadn’t eaten enough of it. His mind was turning once more, fruitlessly, as was so often the case. Answers to Lanson’s many questions awaited, almost a week away and, until then, all his restless thinking was no more than a waste of time and energy. Or so he told himself.
Settling into his seat at the command console, Lanson spoke briefly to the other members of his crew. They weren’t exactly on edge, but they were clearly feeling the same frustrations. Sometimes, the only option was to put up with the stresses of the mission and Lanson’s crew were experienced enough to ride through times like these.
The remainder of the journey was more of the same. Lanson slept well and his mind gradually settled. When he craved solitude, he occupied himself by wandering through the Ragnar-3’s interior. The warship hadn’t been built by human hands, but he felt comfortable here anyway. After all, metal was metal, and tech was something Lanson had always loved, regardless of the form it took.
When he desired company, Lanson killed time in the mess area. The soldiers were accepting of the future, whatever it might be. Lanson supposed they had little choice – when death was always a likelihood, they had to find a way to cope. The alternative was madness, or a fear so debilitating it would render them useless on the battlefield.
Aside from this, Lanson found himself grudgingly developing a taste for the alien food – even the insects, which he’d felt obliged to try in case the soldiers began thinking he was lacking in bravery. The textures were completely different to anything he was accustomed to, but the flavours were good in a peculiar way, and he was mostly left with a feeling of contentment after finishing a meal.
This was in stark contrast to his experiences of the low-grade replication facilities found on a Carbine class, where a requested cheeseburger might look like a cheeseburger, it might smell reminiscent of a cheeseburger, but when the food was eaten, Lanson would always feel as if he'd consumed a quantity of nutritionally balanced cardboard.
And so, the journey, which could have been one of ill-temper and agitation, ended up as something different, though not in a way that could be entirely classed as a positive experience.
When Lieutenant Gus Abrams – the Ragnar-3’s senior propulsion officer – called out his one-hour warning of the warship’s return to local space, it seemed to Lanson as if the journey had passed in a shorter time than ten days.
The Ragnar-3’s arrival at its unknown destination – known only as Dalvaron - was imminent. Sitting at his station, Lanson clenched and unclenched his fists in anticipation of what he might find.
TWO
“Ten minutes!” yelled Abrams.
“Is everyone ready?” asked Lanson. He continued, without waiting for an answer. “Remember, this is no different to any other mission. Once we exit lightspeed, we’ll go through the same routine as always and proceed according to whatever we find. Lieutenant Abrams entered a ten-million-klick offset for the Dalvaron coordinates in the Ragnar-3’s databanks, so we should be out of immediate detection range.”
“We’re heading to a place that was originally friendly to the Ragnar-3, but we can’t afford to assume the facility we’re hoping to find hasn’t been captured by hostile forces,” said Commander Ellie Matlock.
“That’s right,” said Lanson. “But I’m really hoping we’ll be the first to arrive.”
“Are you putting a time limit on how long we’re staying, Captain?” asked Matlock. “Just in case the Tyrantor shows up?”
“I’m not setting a time limit, Commander, since it would be based entirely on guesswork,” said Lanson. “Whatever we find at Dalvaron, we’ll have to deal with it quickly and be on our way.”
“To hunt for another of the Singularity class warships like the Ragnar-3,” said Lieutenant Becky Turner.
“Maybe,” said Lanson. “Or maybe the outcome at Dalvaron will be different to what we hope. In which case, the best course of action might be something else.”
“You’re still thinking about using the Ragnar-3 to draw the Tyrantor into Sagh’eld space?” asked Matlock.
