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  Obsidian Resurrection

  Obsidian Commonwealth Navy

  Number One

  TJ Bryan

  Copyright 2019

  The Great Intergalactic war has been over for 200 years and human kind is shattered. The victor and the defeated have descend into chaos, barbarism, and lawlessness. The Dark has descended on human space as knowledge, trade, commerce, and decency have been lost to isolation, ignorance, and piracy.

  Out on the edge of the spiral galaxy a tiny mining colony holds on, discovers from the wreckage of the old wars a possibility to bring back the light into the darkness, and facing starvation sets out to return human kind to civilization in the face of invasion by inhuman forces.

  Authors Note

  This first volume of the Obsidian Commonwealth Navy story of the first attempts to bring civilization back to a shattered human kind in the face of enemies both human and alien, is written in a format that any lover of books will find familiar. However, with the growth of tablets and cell phones, the work is structured in such a way as to be easily read on these new formats.

  This first volume is quite long and given its' length you will find numerous chapter headings to assist you in following the story on your tablet or cell phone. For those who love books, just keep reading.

  TJ Bryan

  Chapter One

  Jamon System - Habitat - Year 3245. May 12 ET: 2:12

  Abel Stoneman, Chief of Emergency Services of the Obsidian Mining Commonwealth, leaned back in his worn and tattered leatherette chair and glanced at the services status board hung high of on the wall of the ES Station one more time. The Emergency Vacuum Team, EmVac, was returning from a short call to a vacuum leak on the Telford Wall, the Constabulary was cleaning up a brawl at Brusi's Bar now that it was closing time, and the Emergency Medical Service had transported two of the unfortunate brawlers to the Collegium Medical Center for treatment. Abel thought what a peaceful and quiet night this was on the Habitat of the Commonwealth far out on the edge of the galactic arm in a forgotten rocky system named Jamon. It was well past midnight and he should have been in bed, but Captain Winton was at the Collegium Hospital with his very pregnant wife and Abel was filling in for him on this graveyard night shift.

  Winton's wife was expecting twins and Abel knew that the welcome event would increase the population of the asteroid mining Commonwealth from 45,786 to 45,788. Scans indicated that the twins would be fully formed, and not needing special care due to the ever increasing genetic malformations so common to an isolated distant station with an increasingly thin gene pool. Great blessings came in small packages, thought Abel.

  Abel stood and shook his short 5 foot 2 inch frame and thought about another cup of coffee before thinking twice and realizing that in just a few hours Lieutenant Bernson would replace him at the ES Station and perhaps another cup of the thick black coffee, which had been in the heated urn for who knew how many hours, was perhaps not such a good idea.

  As Abel debated the logic of old hot coffee the Command Comm radio squawked and came to life.

  "Command Comm, Sergeant Telson..."

  Abel reached for the mic and replied. "Telson, this is Command Comm... Go ahead."

  Telson responded, "Abel, I'm on the Public Landing Dock, at docking station 32A, and I have something you need to see. I think it's best you come down here and take a look."

  Abel thought for a moment at this unusual request, but decided that a long walk at this time of night, rather than a cup of wretched coffee, was a better use of his time.

  "Give me five Rob, and I' be there. Abel out." responded the Chief.

  Able glanced at the clock and noted the time at just a few moments after two in the night shift ET or Earth Time. On a Habitat like this where there was no night and day the Commonwealth retained the old timing increments of mythic Earth. Abel thought of Winton and his wife as he turned to the inner airlock of the station house and instinctively reached for the O2 bottle at his waist, as his other hand grazed across the turtle neck shirt that contained the collapsed rebreather hood. He checked himself in the small mirror that hung by the hatch and adjusted his officer's cap. Abel had recently lost a lot of weight, which he had put on over the years after the death of his wife and family. The image in the mirror revealed a bit of sagging skin on his healthy 74 year old frame. He had decided to shape up and had vigorously pursued an aggressive exercise regime during this last year and the results were clear. Good muscle tone and some sagging skin. Low gravity, regen pharma, and advanced medicine lead to a long life in the Habitat. That is if entropy and a blow-out didn't cut that life short. Abel thought for a moment that kids grew up fast in the hard vac environment of the Commonwealth, but that was the way of life living on a remote isolated mining colony eking out a living among the rocks and debris circling the gas giant Chatoyant within the Jamon system not more than half a parsec from the black hole they called Obsidian.

  Abel reached for the inner lock actuator and punched the large yellow button just below waist height. Just about the right height for a child to reach in an emergency. As he punched the button the light flashed yellow and then green and the inner door slowly slid open revealing a short corridor leading to the outer door. Abel stepped into the small enclosure and waited for the inner door to close. As it slid closed a slight grinding noise caught Abel attention. More of that diamond dust getting into the seals he realized. I'll have to get Vac Maintenance on this in the morning he thought. I'll need to write a MaintTicket but it can wait for tomorrow.

  In Able's 22 year term as Chief of Emergency Services there had been three pockets of pressurized diamond dust that had blown out into the Habitat as mining operations sought rare earth metals common to the asteroid belt in the Jamon system. Each time the dust had wreaked havoc on equipment and was most annoying on the seals of the vac doors, air locks, and hatches. The dust literally ate up the seals and destroyed the bearings needed to operate the doors and ensure atmospheric integrity. Eventually the atmospheric filters and regen systems would capture and eliminate the dust, but in the short term it had become a maintenance headache and a very real danger of creating a blow-out.

  Abel exited the station and thought about the which route to take to the public landing dock. He had two choices; he could walk to the landing down Founder's Road, or take the longer route up the slight incline called Parson's Path, and perhaps catch a view of Obsidian out the great window at Nelson's Park on his way to meet with Sergeant Telson. Abel choose the Parson's Path.

  He looked up at the high dome over the residences and passed a dozen single and two story closely packed homes that lined the path. As always he checked the glowing green monitor light above the door lock of each home that indicated the seals were safe. The high artificial sun that hung almost a kilometre above the city was in moon mode. Funny, thought Abel, we have no sun and no moon, but we define our cycle as sun mode, and moon mode, with brief sun rises and sunsets. After a few moments walking he spotted young May Mills coming up the path toward her home near the ES station. May worked at the all night diner in District 3 and was pushing a hand cart that Abel knew contained her 16 month old child Amber.

  "Hello Chief. It's a fine night." said May with a smile of contentment so common to new mothers on the Habitat.

  Abel paused and smiled. "How is little Jinny?" Abel knelt down along side the slider cart and pulled back the near-woollen coverlet that obscured the infants face. The baby deep in sleep did not move and Abel having been a father so long ago knew it was best not to disturb a sleeping infant. A small hopelessly knotted rope hung from the side of the slider.

  "She is doing quite well Chief and I'll not having you wake her up after this long night at the diner. What with so many men o
ut of work given that Girots' Bountiful is now so long over due." May paused, and then asked the obvious question on everyone's mind, "What do you think might be the cause? When might she arrive?"

  Abel, knowing that the starship freighter Girots' Bountiful was their lifeline to what remained of civilization in a universe gone so dark, responded in as positive way as his years of experience in calming the public had taught him. "Oh, I'm sure it's just another mechanical problem, like we had in 3233 when her fusion engine burst a containment line. It's been a while but after more than 300 years of faithful service I'm certain that Bountiful will arrive any day."

  With the Bountiful late and the warehouses overflowing with metals, and basic Commonwealth manufactured machinery like pumps, generators, and electrical distribution lines, the Council had called a halt to mining and basic manufacturing placing a large portion of the population out of work. The goods the Commonwealth manufactured from its' mining operation were exchanged with Girots' System for foodstuffs, fabrics, medicines, and other necessities that could not be produced in the asteroid system. Girots was an agricultural planet, and as both Jamon and Girots lost contact with other star systems due to the descent of The Dark, the two systems had become dependent on one another and on the single link between them - the old starship freighter Girots' Bountiful.

  Almost 200 of Girots' young adults attended the Collegium and family ties had built up over the years as young college kids did what college kids do. Got married and started families after graduation. Some returned to Girots and others stayed at the Habitat. Abel's wife had been an exchange student from Gitots when they met at the Collegium many years ago.

  Abel thought best to change the subject with May given the increasing worry and anxiety over the late arrival of the Bountiful. Endless speculation as to the fate of the Bountiful was senseless and in fact depressing. The Bountiful had never been this long overdue and the Commonwealth was entirely dependent on this single sliver of interstellar commerce to maintain its' system and way of life; even its very existence.

  "Well," said Abel searching for a change in subject. "When will little Jinny be getting her prosthetics? It must be about time."

  "Oh, Chief, you know that her stubs are not grown enough to support augmentation and repair. It's going to be another twelve months before the Collegium Medical Department can even evaluate her state."

  Abel paused for a moment. Jinny was just one of the children born into the Habitat with genetic malformations; the most common of which was missing or malformed limbs. All due to the ever diminishing gene pool of an isolated mining colony founded more than 400 years ago by folks from somewhere called Iceland and North Europe. Although the Council had encouraged intermarriage with settlers from Girots system the occurrence of the genetic malformations had only increased.

  "It's good seeing you Chief, but I must be getting home and Jinny needs a diaper change after my night shift at the diner." May reached down and fidgeted with the emergency vac safety bubble ring that surrounded the baby slider. You can never be too careful on Habitat.

  "Well I'll be along then May." Abel almost started to offer a 'hello' to Aldi her husband, but caught himself before he spoke. Aldi had died in the blow-out last September and now May and little Jenny were alone, but for the Commonwealth's support.

  May nodded and Abel passed by and approached another of the numerous air locks that interrupted the passageways every hundred feet or so. Soon Abel came to Nelson's Park and would have looked up, and to the giant plastiglas window that overlooked the actinic glare of the Obsidian Black Hole. But instead he paused a moment to reflect on the monument that listed the dead from the blow-out of 3232. There about halfway along the list of names etched into the black stone he could read that of his wife Aaron and his two children Max and Vin. Abel still, after all these years, felt guilt at having gone for ice cream on the second level when the catastrophic blow-out occurred and took away 234 souls into the void. Many of the bodies, including that of his young family were never recovered and only the monument served as a remembrance of the tragic even. The station is getting old and breaking down Able thought. We will last a while, but eventually makeshift repairs, duck tape, and élan will not keep us safe. Somehow we need to find new resources to keep the Commonwealth alive. Everything that comes together eventually falls apart.

  After a pause lost in his thoughts he realized he had delayed too long. Abel resumed his walk to the public dock. The Parson's Path slid down at an angle of only a few degrees and approached the complex air lock branch were it joined the Founder's Road and the major passage to the public landing. At this time of night the road and the path were empty and silent. The bars were closed and even the out of work miners were home sleeping off the rounds of drinks they imbibed to drown the sorrows of no work.

  After cycling through the lock he entered the vast enclosure that was the Public Landing Dock. The dock was over a kilometre long and at some points the ceiling of carved rock soared up to 700 meters above the steel and ceramacrete deck. The uneven ceiling dropped down in a few places supported by enormous steel stanchions where the mining engineers had decided that the roof structure of the Habitat required some additional strength. However for the most part the public dock was a wide open area. The public dock was one of the most open areas in all of the Habitat. Abel paused a moment and looked to his left at the racks holding dozens of runabouts crafted in the most part by students from the middle school in anticipation of the Singleton Race held each year on Founder's Day. In berth 211D was a bright red dual seater with what appeared to be a blown jector engine. That slot had been his in his teens when he came in third with his runabout 'Ragnarök' during the race 190 kilometres out to the asteroid Billo, and then a slingshot about the planetoid Hera, and back to the Habitat. It had been the most important day in his life at that point and now he realized, as his older self, a really valuable life lesson. Kids grew up fast in a vacuum.

  After a two minute walk past the steel and ceramacrete walls facing the unforgiving void Abel spotted Sergeant Telson standing next to a boxy runabout painted a dull shade of green. Telson stood tapping his hand against the plastic license cards of two teens who sat dejected on the wing lip of the runabout. A long man sized dull yellow carton lay alongside the runabout; its' folded top torn open. Abel spotted what he knew were the latest mods to the jector engines with their fluted ports and heat blackened hallows. The runabout was a hot setup and reflected the skilful guidance of Emmitt Wong who taught Mechanical Engineering at the middle school and Collegium. The kids looked scared. Abel thought just a bunch of kids probably hot-rodding too near the station or perhaps another minor infraction worthy of a stern demeanour, and a carefully crafted warning, followed by 'Ill talk to your mom and dad in the morning.'

  Abel drew himself up to his full height of five foot two, drew a well practiced scowl upon his face and said "Well, what do we have here Sergeant Telson?" Abel looked at the two teens and estimated they were perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old. One he realized was Ingvar Karrlson's son, the pilot of the sweeper Quark. A good kid from a family plagued by tragedy.

  The two teens remained focused on their feet as Telson looked up at Abel.

  "Chief," responded Telson, "I was just patrolling the dock when this runabout came in hot exceeding the landing speed and thought I would talk to these kids about how they might damage the port." Telson took a look at the teens who did not respond, and then looked at the plastic license cards in his hands. " Lennie Karrlson, age 18, citizen pilot fourth class. Had his license about one and a half years. The other is Larry Nillson, 17, just passed the fourth class pilots test last week."

  Abel knew better than to say anything letting the gravity of whatever these miscreants had done sink in. Abel looked down at the long yellow carton standing at Telson's feet, his curiosity growing, and then looked up at the teens. The two teens were wearing threadbare faded green jump suits with the usual student mechanic's adornment of grease stains, a bi
t of yesterday's lunch, and a few club patches. Out of habit Abel took a quick look at the green tell-tales at their waist 02 bottles and then at the turtle necks that contained the rebreather hood. All was well. Abel saw that Lennie, had perhaps become so afraid of his detention that he had urinated down the front of his suit. The kid was scarred.

  "And after I talked to these kids I took a look in the aft compartment and found this." Telson reached down and pulled up the carton top to reveal an almost human form covered in some kind of plastic seal. Telson gave the plastic seal a tug and the plastic covering crumbled into dust and tiny fragments.

  Abel broke his well considered silence and found himself stunned by the find. "What the hell?"

  He knew immediately that he was looking at - a vac suit. Not one of the worn out and nearly killing 300 year old vac suits that the ES used every day, but a new suit. Or at least new in the carton unused suit worth its' weight in precious metals. Abel leaned in further and saw that the "tell-tells" on the suits were glowing green. It's serviceable thought Abel in stunned silence.

  "I know what your thinking Abel, but look at this." Telson brushed aside the crumbled plastic from the chest section of the vac suit to reveal an ancient logo of a sunburst and sword - that of the Greayson Military. "It's not just a new working suit," commented Telson, "but it's a military grade suit at that."

  Abel looked at the teens but they remained focused on their feet. Looking again at Telson, Abel knew that it was unnecessary to tell the Sergeant how valuable this find could be. Maintenance on the crumbling infrastructure of the Habitat had been continually deferred because the ES and Maintenance crews lacked reliable vac suits. Every suit on the Habitat was ancient and had been repaired, refurbished, and refinished over the ages. In every case the civilian grade suits had more patches than original material. To most in ES the suits now presented a danger second only to the need to repair blow-outs.