The Dark Ascent - Softcover
Walter Hunt's debut novel The Dark Wing was favorably compared to Ender's Game, Babylon 5, Honor Harrington, and C.S. Forester. The publication of the second volume The Dark Path was heralded by Analog as "a quest that may well prove science fiction's version of The Lord of the Rings."
The Dark Ascent
The war with the zor is long over, and Admiral Marais, the legendary "Dark Wing" is long dead, though some of his companions on that campaign of xenocide still remain, and in the alien philosophies of the past their might exist man's hope for salvation in the very near future.
The Dark Path introduced a new alien force into the delicate balance of power ... one that was the actual puppetmaster of the human-zor war and now wishes to bring both worlds under its madness inducing shadow.
But the same ancient philosophy of the zor race that prophesized "the Dark Wing" has also foreseen a hero that will meet the new menace --a hero now mystically embodied in a rebellious space commodore by the name of Jackie Lappierre.
As armadas clash and outposts fall, the overly confident alien menace is forced to confront a zor human alliance that has been warned, their covert and insidious plans of infiltration now exposed. ... though victory is hardly ascertained for either side in The Dark Ascent.
The Dark Ascent
The war with the zor is long over, and Admiral Marais, the legendary "Dark Wing" is long dead, though some of his companions on that campaign of xenocide still remain, and in the alien philosophies of the past their might exist man's hope for salvation in the very near future.
The Dark Path introduced a new alien force into the delicate balance of power ... one that was the actual puppetmaster of the human-zor war and now wishes to bring both worlds under its madness inducing shadow.
But the same ancient philosophy of the zor race that prophesized "the Dark Wing" has also foreseen a hero that will meet the new menace --a hero now mystically embodied in a rebellious space commodore by the name of Jackie Lappierre.
As armadas clash and outposts fall, the overly confident alien menace is forced to confront a zor human alliance that has been warned, their covert and insidious plans of infiltration now exposed. ... though victory is hardly ascertained for either side in The Dark Ascent.
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
About the Author:
Walter H. Hunt has nearly twenty years experience in high tech as a software engineer and technical writer. His writing reflects an abiding interest in history, his area of college study, but science fiction has been his favorite reading material since he watched Neil Armstrong walk on the moon when he was but a lad. He is an active freemason and a lifelong baseball fan. He lives in eastern Massachusetts with his wife and daughter. The Dark Ascent is his third novel.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
The Dark Ascent
Walter H. Hunt
Chapter 1
When the enemy took adrianople, it gained a base within the solar empire, placing dozens of imperial worlds within jump range. cicero was the first strike--but adrianople was the first, most significant strike in a long and difficult war.
--Oren Kemal and Mya'ar HeChra
The Great War, volume I, 2429
"Five. I make it five." Dan McReynolds stood on the bridge of the Fair Damsel, scowling over the shoulder of the pilot at the display board. Raymond Li, the Damsel's chief navigator, stood opposite, leaning forward on the board and looking up at the captain.
"So there are five ships with IN flags here. What's it to us?"
"I have to explain everything to you. Tamarind Station"--Dan gestured toward the forward screen--"is maybe forty parsecs from the nearest big naval base and we're only two jumps out of Crossover. Maybe it's a coincidence and maybe not, but we were carrying what might turn out to be a real important package."
"I thought that the--package--belonged to the High Nest."
"Look." Dan's scowl was enough for the pilot to stop what he was doing and look back at him. "The Imperial Navy takes care of its own. I'll bet you a liter of the best whiskey we can buy here that the dock will be covered with bluejackets."
"I've had Tamarind whiskey, Skip, and I still won't take the bet. What've they got on us?"
"It's just a feeling I have. Five Navy ships...I don't believe in coincidences, Ray."
As a matter of course, merchanters develop instincts about situations. In the days of ocean sailors, a captain might get a feeling sniffing the wind as it blew across his quarterdeck, or sense a change in the sky or the chop of the waves on the bow of his ship--certainly not clinical observations, but often more accurate than the poor instruments the captain might possess. Instincts were the difference between an experienced sailor and a dead one.
By comparison, space lacks many empirical clues. Wind, wave and sky have no convenient analogs; the sophisticated equipment required to navigate from star to star extends the scope and range of the senses. Perils and dangers can be perceived a long way off...Of course, death comes more quickly and more violently in space.
Still, at sea or in space there are certain things in common. Merchanters know to keep their heads down and listen to warnings wherever they come from.
As the Fair Damsel made its docking approach, Dan McReynolds got his first and only warning: He was not only expected, but there was someone waiting for him. The ship was committed and deep in the gravity well, and--as Ray Li had pointed out--nobody had anything on them.
* * *
Knowing that there was no avoiding it, Dan made himself very conspicuous on the dock as the Damsel began to unload its cargo. It only took a few minutes for uniformed Tamarind security to take notice of their presence, and a few minutes more for a deputation to make its way across the station deck to the Fair Damsel's berth.
"Look at them swagger," Pyotr Ngo, Dan's chief pilot, said quietly behind him. "Tough guys."
"At least to the locals," Dan replied. People were deliberately making way for the half-dozen armed men and women making a beeline for his ship; he could see other civilians speaking furtively and looking in his direction, thinking, no doubt, There but for the grace of God go I..."Get the Sultan," he said over his shoulder, without turning. "And hang close."
The group came up to where Dan stood looking over a cargo manifest. He deliberately tried to ignore them.
"You McReynolds?" asked the leader of the group, a tall, thin scowling woman in a well-decorated brown uniform.
"I'm Captain McReynolds," Dan said. Sultan Sabah and Pyotr Ngo took up positions behind him. "What's it to you?"
"Man wants to see you."
"Man got a name?"
"Imperial Navy," the woman answered with distaste. "Asked for you personally."
"Me?" Dan turned slightly to look at Pyotr and the Sultan. "You boys know why the Navy might want me?"
"Maybe wants you to reenlist," said the Sultan. "Scrapin' the bottom of the barrel for officer material, you ask me."
"I'm not interested in signing up." Dan turned back to the Tamarindi. "Tell the 'Man' that if he wants to talk to me he should send someone of his own. My papers are in order, and I've got work to do." He began to turn away.
"Listen, you--"
He rounded on the woman. "No, you listen to me. I've got a license to trade within the Solar Empire. I have my landing permit, my docking order, my permit to berth...and a published manifest that allows me to load and unload. Those are all you can question me on, Officer. If the 'Man' wants to talk to me, then the 'Man' had damn well better send his own messenger to talk to me rather than wasting my time and yours."
He turned away again and left the woman sputtering as the three crewmen of the Fair Damsel walked back into the cargo hold. After a moment, the woman took her cadre of guards back across the brightly lit deck.
"You think that was such a good idea, Skip?" the Sultan asked, looking over his shoulder at the retreating brown uniforms.
"Don't know. But I'm not going to be ordered around by some local tinhorn. I already did my time in the Service. Damn it, those papers are in order, too." He stopped at a stack of meter-high cargo cubes and sat down on one. "Give me that comp," he said to the Sultan, and began to query it for information.
"I'd better get the troops moving in case we have to bug out quickly," the Sultan said, turning his attention away from his captain.
"Wait a sec." Dan showed Sabah and Ngo the comp. "Says here that the biggest ship in dock is the IS Pappenheim, commanded by someone named Maartens. You guys know anything about either?"
"Pappenheim," Pyotr Ngo said, folding his arms over his chest and looking at the readout hanging in the air over the comp. "That's not a police cruiser--looks like a ship of the line, maybe Imperial Grand Survey or a perimeter squadron. The skipper's name doesn't ring a bell, though."
"The other ships here at Tamarind are all smaller ones. This isn't a battle fleet; it's more like a bunch of little guys that found a big skirt to hide behind."
"What are you getting at?"
"Unless I miss my guess, Pyotr, something big has started to happen, something that's gotten all of these ship commanders scared. Anything come to mind?"
"Sounds like a war," Pyotr Ngo said quietly. "Meaning--?"
"Meaning that whatever she got involved in"--and all three of them knew who "she" was--"has started."
"So...what are we going to do?"
"We go on with what we're doing, I guess," Dan answered. "And we wait for the 'Man' to come to us."
* * *
They didn't have to wait more than an hour. Dan had returned to his own quarters, leaving the Sultan in charge dockside; he was sitting at his cluttered workdesk when a private-channel message signal sounded on the internal comm.
"Captain here," he said. "What's up?"
"Personal base-to-base coming in for you, Skip," said the voice--Ray Li at the conn. "You want it patched through?"
"Where's it from?"
"Pappenheim," Li said, after a moment. "Imperial starship. It's docked down the way."
"Yeah, put it through." Dan gestured to the wall; a holo appeared on the opposite side of the desk. He whacked a spot on the wall with the heel of his hand and it flickered into focus. "This is Dan McReynolds of the Fair Damsel. What can I do for you?"
"Captain McReynolds." An older man in the uniform of a Navy captain appeared, sitting at a ready-room desk. Near his left lapel there was an icon showing that Ray Li had marked it as "PRIVATE," so no one aboard--or on the station--could patch in. "I'm Georg Maartens of the IS Pappenheim. I sent a message to you earlier, asking you to meet me in the station command center."
"Yeah. Well, I thought it was local harassment, and I didn't like the tone."
Maartens smiled, which was unexpected. Dan had hoped to get a rise out of Maartens, who looked like a stiff-necked Regular Navy type. "I'm not surprised. Perhaps I can be more conciliatory. I'd like to invite you aboard for a drink, and to convey a message to you."
"A message."
"That's right." Dan noticed that the Pappenheim bridge was maintaining General Quarters, even though the ship was at dock. "Me personally. Mind telling me what this is all about?"
"This isn't exactly a secure channel. Perhaps you could join me at, say, 1600 Standard? If you'd like to bring your exec aboard, he's welcome as well."
"It doesn't sound like this is a yes-or-no question."
"Well...it isn't. But there's no reason that everyone on Tamarind needs to know that. I understand merchanter attitudes. I see no reason to show you up if it can be avoided. 1600 hours, then?"
* * *
Dan remembered the sights and sounds of an Imperial star-ship. It had been many years since he'd been aboard one, but the familiarity of "officer country" aboard the Pappenheim reminded him all too much of the Torrance. Even the cold antiseptic air in the corridors brought back memories of his time in service.
Pyotr Ngo--whom he had brought along primarily to provide a reality check--just looked nervous.
"What's with General Quarters?" Dan asked of the Marine squad leader as they stepped into a lift. They'd been escorted through the star-ship's corridors for almost five minutes; Dan suspected there might have been a more direct route, but perhaps Maartens sought to intimidate them.
"Sir?" the Marine squad leader asked, keeping his face unresponsive, not looking at Dan as the door closed; and, at the guard's spoken command, the lift began to rise.
"General Quarters. Why is the ship on alert?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't discuss security matters with--"
"With civilians. I know," Dan snorted. "I remember the regulation."
"Sir."
...
Walter H. Hunt
Chapter 1
When the enemy took adrianople, it gained a base within the solar empire, placing dozens of imperial worlds within jump range. cicero was the first strike--but adrianople was the first, most significant strike in a long and difficult war.
--Oren Kemal and Mya'ar HeChra
The Great War, volume I, 2429
"Five. I make it five." Dan McReynolds stood on the bridge of the Fair Damsel, scowling over the shoulder of the pilot at the display board. Raymond Li, the Damsel's chief navigator, stood opposite, leaning forward on the board and looking up at the captain.
"So there are five ships with IN flags here. What's it to us?"
"I have to explain everything to you. Tamarind Station"--Dan gestured toward the forward screen--"is maybe forty parsecs from the nearest big naval base and we're only two jumps out of Crossover. Maybe it's a coincidence and maybe not, but we were carrying what might turn out to be a real important package."
"I thought that the--package--belonged to the High Nest."
"Look." Dan's scowl was enough for the pilot to stop what he was doing and look back at him. "The Imperial Navy takes care of its own. I'll bet you a liter of the best whiskey we can buy here that the dock will be covered with bluejackets."
"I've had Tamarind whiskey, Skip, and I still won't take the bet. What've they got on us?"
"It's just a feeling I have. Five Navy ships...I don't believe in coincidences, Ray."
As a matter of course, merchanters develop instincts about situations. In the days of ocean sailors, a captain might get a feeling sniffing the wind as it blew across his quarterdeck, or sense a change in the sky or the chop of the waves on the bow of his ship--certainly not clinical observations, but often more accurate than the poor instruments the captain might possess. Instincts were the difference between an experienced sailor and a dead one.
By comparison, space lacks many empirical clues. Wind, wave and sky have no convenient analogs; the sophisticated equipment required to navigate from star to star extends the scope and range of the senses. Perils and dangers can be perceived a long way off...Of course, death comes more quickly and more violently in space.
Still, at sea or in space there are certain things in common. Merchanters know to keep their heads down and listen to warnings wherever they come from.
As the Fair Damsel made its docking approach, Dan McReynolds got his first and only warning: He was not only expected, but there was someone waiting for him. The ship was committed and deep in the gravity well, and--as Ray Li had pointed out--nobody had anything on them.
* * *
Knowing that there was no avoiding it, Dan made himself very conspicuous on the dock as the Damsel began to unload its cargo. It only took a few minutes for uniformed Tamarind security to take notice of their presence, and a few minutes more for a deputation to make its way across the station deck to the Fair Damsel's berth.
"Look at them swagger," Pyotr Ngo, Dan's chief pilot, said quietly behind him. "Tough guys."
"At least to the locals," Dan replied. People were deliberately making way for the half-dozen armed men and women making a beeline for his ship; he could see other civilians speaking furtively and looking in his direction, thinking, no doubt, There but for the grace of God go I..."Get the Sultan," he said over his shoulder, without turning. "And hang close."
The group came up to where Dan stood looking over a cargo manifest. He deliberately tried to ignore them.
"You McReynolds?" asked the leader of the group, a tall, thin scowling woman in a well-decorated brown uniform.
"I'm Captain McReynolds," Dan said. Sultan Sabah and Pyotr Ngo took up positions behind him. "What's it to you?"
"Man wants to see you."
"Man got a name?"
"Imperial Navy," the woman answered with distaste. "Asked for you personally."
"Me?" Dan turned slightly to look at Pyotr and the Sultan. "You boys know why the Navy might want me?"
"Maybe wants you to reenlist," said the Sultan. "Scrapin' the bottom of the barrel for officer material, you ask me."
"I'm not interested in signing up." Dan turned back to the Tamarindi. "Tell the 'Man' that if he wants to talk to me he should send someone of his own. My papers are in order, and I've got work to do." He began to turn away.
"Listen, you--"
He rounded on the woman. "No, you listen to me. I've got a license to trade within the Solar Empire. I have my landing permit, my docking order, my permit to berth...and a published manifest that allows me to load and unload. Those are all you can question me on, Officer. If the 'Man' wants to talk to me, then the 'Man' had damn well better send his own messenger to talk to me rather than wasting my time and yours."
He turned away again and left the woman sputtering as the three crewmen of the Fair Damsel walked back into the cargo hold. After a moment, the woman took her cadre of guards back across the brightly lit deck.
"You think that was such a good idea, Skip?" the Sultan asked, looking over his shoulder at the retreating brown uniforms.
"Don't know. But I'm not going to be ordered around by some local tinhorn. I already did my time in the Service. Damn it, those papers are in order, too." He stopped at a stack of meter-high cargo cubes and sat down on one. "Give me that comp," he said to the Sultan, and began to query it for information.
"I'd better get the troops moving in case we have to bug out quickly," the Sultan said, turning his attention away from his captain.
"Wait a sec." Dan showed Sabah and Ngo the comp. "Says here that the biggest ship in dock is the IS Pappenheim, commanded by someone named Maartens. You guys know anything about either?"
"Pappenheim," Pyotr Ngo said, folding his arms over his chest and looking at the readout hanging in the air over the comp. "That's not a police cruiser--looks like a ship of the line, maybe Imperial Grand Survey or a perimeter squadron. The skipper's name doesn't ring a bell, though."
"The other ships here at Tamarind are all smaller ones. This isn't a battle fleet; it's more like a bunch of little guys that found a big skirt to hide behind."
"What are you getting at?"
"Unless I miss my guess, Pyotr, something big has started to happen, something that's gotten all of these ship commanders scared. Anything come to mind?"
"Sounds like a war," Pyotr Ngo said quietly. "Meaning--?"
"Meaning that whatever she got involved in"--and all three of them knew who "she" was--"has started."
"So...what are we going to do?"
"We go on with what we're doing, I guess," Dan answered. "And we wait for the 'Man' to come to us."
* * *
They didn't have to wait more than an hour. Dan had returned to his own quarters, leaving the Sultan in charge dockside; he was sitting at his cluttered workdesk when a private-channel message signal sounded on the internal comm.
"Captain here," he said. "What's up?"
"Personal base-to-base coming in for you, Skip," said the voice--Ray Li at the conn. "You want it patched through?"
"Where's it from?"
"Pappenheim," Li said, after a moment. "Imperial starship. It's docked down the way."
"Yeah, put it through." Dan gestured to the wall; a holo appeared on the opposite side of the desk. He whacked a spot on the wall with the heel of his hand and it flickered into focus. "This is Dan McReynolds of the Fair Damsel. What can I do for you?"
"Captain McReynolds." An older man in the uniform of a Navy captain appeared, sitting at a ready-room desk. Near his left lapel there was an icon showing that Ray Li had marked it as "PRIVATE," so no one aboard--or on the station--could patch in. "I'm Georg Maartens of the IS Pappenheim. I sent a message to you earlier, asking you to meet me in the station command center."
"Yeah. Well, I thought it was local harassment, and I didn't like the tone."
Maartens smiled, which was unexpected. Dan had hoped to get a rise out of Maartens, who looked like a stiff-necked Regular Navy type. "I'm not surprised. Perhaps I can be more conciliatory. I'd like to invite you aboard for a drink, and to convey a message to you."
"A message."
"That's right." Dan noticed that the Pappenheim bridge was maintaining General Quarters, even though the ship was at dock. "Me personally. Mind telling me what this is all about?"
"This isn't exactly a secure channel. Perhaps you could join me at, say, 1600 Standard? If you'd like to bring your exec aboard, he's welcome as well."
"It doesn't sound like this is a yes-or-no question."
"Well...it isn't. But there's no reason that everyone on Tamarind needs to know that. I understand merchanter attitudes. I see no reason to show you up if it can be avoided. 1600 hours, then?"
* * *
Dan remembered the sights and sounds of an Imperial star-ship. It had been many years since he'd been aboard one, but the familiarity of "officer country" aboard the Pappenheim reminded him all too much of the Torrance. Even the cold antiseptic air in the corridors brought back memories of his time in service.
Pyotr Ngo--whom he had brought along primarily to provide a reality check--just looked nervous.
"What's with General Quarters?" Dan asked of the Marine squad leader as they stepped into a lift. They'd been escorted through the star-ship's corridors for almost five minutes; Dan suspected there might have been a more direct route, but perhaps Maartens sought to intimidate them.
"Sir?" the Marine squad leader asked, keeping his face unresponsive, not looking at Dan as the door closed; and, at the guard's spoken command, the lift began to rise.
"General Quarters. Why is the ship on alert?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't discuss security matters with--"
"With civilians. I know," Dan snorted. "I remember the regulation."
"Sir."
...
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- PublisherTor Science Fiction
- Publication date2005
- ISBN 10 0765349825
- ISBN 13 9780765349828
- BindingPaperback
- Number of pages464
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