The Tigers of Canopus

[repcisg]

I have been chewing on this for a while since Jewels request, a concept for colony two from Jal’s Journal and the foundation for the books I had been working on, what do you think?

The Tigers of Canopus

After a perilous journey of nearly a year, the Crimson fleet under the command of Roderick Andraman, reached its destination, the planet known only as Ruby. Short on fuel the colonist manage to move themselves and the most basic of farm implements to the surface. But without fuel to return to their ships they can not retrieve the machines needed to sustain their civilization. Thus driven to a basic subsistence level they can only watch each night as shiny points of light race across the sky, in perpetual pursuit of one another.

Driven back to basic subsistence the colony grows slowly, Ruderic Andraman passes from the scene, honored and revered as the man who saved the colony and delivered them to safety. In his honor Ruby is renamed Andraman and from that day forward the people of the Crimson fleet call themselves the children of Andraman.

Millennia pass as a new civilization is born, slowly the old knowledge is relearned, and once more the children of Andraman reach for the stars. New worlds are found, rich, fertile and unclaimed. Humanity plants its seed on each until eighteen worlds stand together as one, the Andraman Union.

Reaching out beyond their own cluster of stars into the great nebulas arm the children of Andraman encounter others. The Bayan, in an early industrial stage of development become willing trading partners with the Andraman. Then the Chekilli are found, traders of goods and services, they seem harmless and quite friendly.

Beyond the Chekilli the Trillon Alliance. Three sub groups of the same race, the Tridon - aggressive, militaristic. The Threl - cunning, master organizers and always plotting. The secretive Tories. Masters of Technologies, they keep well behind the other two, satisfied to allow the Threl and Tridon take the risks expanding the empire.

Contact with the Trillon is less than friendly. Early on the Andraman discover they must arm themselves, set up lines of defense, learn the art of war. Trillon raids cut deep in to Andramn space and prove quite deadly. In response the Andraman build a fleet powerful warships.

As the power and size of these ships grow, various names are applied, but one evolves to become the standard. First applied by the great Marshal Henries Reeve, he likened the massive blast of his ships of the line, as similar to the powerful strokes delivered by the giant silver bears of his native home in Northern Andraman. His frequent referrals to the Battle Line as a line of Bears stuck. And in his honor these massive ships took on the official name of Bear.

To the Andraman’s the heavy gunned ships of the battle line will always be Bears, the Great Bears of the first rank, Small Bears of the second rank and the Swift Bears, the do all ships of the battle fleet. For nearly two centuries the Bears of Andraman keep the Empire at bay. But, as always, technology never stands still, weapons become more compact, engines smaller and more powerful. Elementary combat ships grew smaller, until finally a new class of ship emerged, the fighter

On the Planet Canopus, a central member of the Andraman Union, new ship designs emerged. Ships designed to carry the new rapidly evolving the fighter. Clouds of these machines can overwhelm even the most powerful Bear or Trillon Striker. To contrast these ships from the Bears of Andramn, their designers turned to their own native species for inspiration. These new ships are fast, strike with lightning bows from a distance, bringing down their opponent in powerful slashing attacks. The clouds of fighters that rose from them were likened to the claws of the great cats of Canopus. From this the appellation of Tiger seemed most appropriate. Thus the Great Cats of Canopus entered the fleet of the Andraman Union. At first supplementing, then replacing the great Bears. The Tigers of Canopus have become the core of the Humanities defenses.

[Archangel]

Sounds like a great outline for a continuing story.

[jewels]

I just can never get over the creativity in your backstories, Rep. Good going and I think you are definitely hitting on something GOOD.

[repcisg]

Thank you Jewels, Your opinion matters a great deal.

[repcisg]

I was didling around with the Tigers concept tonight and sort of wrote this as I did some free association type thinking.

What do you think?

++++++++++++++

The Bayan Captain leaned back into his command chair, with a soft sigh. It wouldn't do to let his crew know of his pain.

I mustn’t move to much, the pain is bearable if I stay still. Besides the others must not know of my pain, it will be unseemly of me to let it show. Besides, they have their-own pain to deal with, my duty demands I remain silent.

Rolling his tired eyes to his right, Qual, the communications operator sat slumped forward at his station. The youngster had been below near the engines when it happened, his exposure was greater than most. The gold and black crest, which he had held so proudly erect when reporting on board, now lay limp and flat on the console. His body showed no signs of life.

Perhaps it's just as well, the captain thought to himself, since the blowout in the engine room, we're all dead any way. And if the great maker has decided some of us are to die more slowly than the others. Then so be it, it is his will.

Rolling to his left the Captain studied his navigator, he too was slumped over his station. But the gold and black crest still held its form. His body moved in a regular rhythm, he was still breathing.

The ships pilot lay in his couch, his back to the command station. From where he sat the Captain couldn't say for sure if the pilot still lived, but then what did it matter. In a few hours at most, no life will remain in any of them. Soon his ship will enter the dust cloud ahead and stop. There to remain for eternity.

In his minds eye he could see the slow accretion of dust on the ships hull, attracted by the ships mass. Each particle adding to that mass and in turn attracting more dust. In a hundred cycles or so this metal coffin will no longer look like a vessel, rather just another dust ball.

More dust will attach itself and more and more until finally the full weight will crush the ship and its crew into an ever shrinking lump.

Perhaps we will become the core of a small planet or, if the maker wishes the center of a new star! Oh blessed maker wouldn't that be something indeed.

My bones ach, he thought, that thought seemed strange to him. How can ones bones ach? Surely there are no nerves there. To ach you need a joint or cartilage, don't you? I must ask the healer about this.

But how, when? In the next life perhaps, will I remember it? I must, for our healer is dead. Along with the engineers, yes, I remember now, he dropped down to the engine room to pull the crew out. He died quickly. They all did. Lucky.

Oh maker let me be the last, it's my duty. I must say the last prayer, my honor demands it, It is by your law I ask this.

Rolling his eyes back to the front view screen, strange, there is darkness within the darkness of the cloud. A world perhaps? No two worlds, twins! How can this be. No, not worlds, but truly twins. Each line on one is on the other. Each curve as on the other. Such grace, such form. Identical in every way. My mind is dying, I am hallucinating. They are not there, they are gone. All of them are gone. I must be hoping for a miracle, this is my minds final act of denial.

There is no one that can save us, not even these twins, even if they were real. Not us, but perhaps our words. Perhaps they will hear our words, my log. This they will listen to and from that know of us, they will know what befell us. But hallucinations cannot hear our words. They cannot hear my praise for the chief engineer. He who gave his life trying to save ours, at the risk of being fried alive to replace the shielding. Nor can they hear of the Healer, who went to his rescue, only to fall beside him.

For both I recommended the honor of the golden crest. The highest honor our people can bestow upon the fallen. They gave their lives freely to save ours, that they failed will not lessen their valor nor the courage of their sacrifice. I only wish their kits could know of this.

"Captain!" Yelled the Navigator.

"What?"

"Look sir, in the front view screen, look!"

He must be hallucinating, like me. For I what I see cannot be, they are all gone. He heard like I did, like we all did. The calls for help and the pleas for mercy, for mercy that was never granted. They are all dead, dust between the stars, like we will soon be.

"What do you see?"

"Tigers, sir! Tigers!"

[jewels]

Rep, finally got the chance to look. Wow! you write great lead ins to stories. As always, I want the rest. Oh, is the crest thing a uniform element or part of an alien being? Wasn't sure from which culture the impaired dying ship is from (human or alien).

Jewels

[repcisg]

Thanks Jewels,

I kind’a knocked that one out rather quickly, needs detailing. The Crest is part of the Bayan's, when healthy it stands erect on the Bayan head. But when excited it rises and arches forward slightly.

Bayans are neighbors to the Humans in the Andraman universe, friendly neighbors.

More will follow…