The Great Space (Scrapyard Ship Book 6)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  The overhead display changed to a view of the moon. The Lilly navigated to its dark side and quickly descended to the lunar surface. Piloting The Lilly down, less than two hundred feet above the surface, McBride slowed, then brought the ship close to a white, freshly painted, U.S. light cruiser.

  A small shuttle left the admiral’s ship and made its way into The Lilly’s open flight deck. “Please inform the admiral I’m waiting for him in my ready room,” Jason said.

  * * *

  Jason no sooner sat down, when his father entered the ready room.

  “Jason, stay seated. We’ve a lot to go over.”

  “Good to see you too, Dad,” Jason said with a wry grin.

  “How’s Boomer? That was quite an ordeal she just went through, from what I’ve heard.”

  “Remarkably well. She’s a little warrior,” Jason said.

  The admiral smiled. “She’ll definitely be someone to contend with when she gets older.”

  “She already is. But I think sometimes we—I—forget she’s just a little girl. She’s been through so much … At least she’ll be happy to hear her droid, Teardrop, has been repaired.

  “So, where are we at with the coming Craing onslaught?”

  “We’re waiting. Your latest intel … about the three Craing fleets en route toward Earth … has made a serious situation seem more impossible. Even with the Minian and The Lilly, I don’t see a way out of this, Jason.”

  “Why bring five thousand warships into Earth space if their only intention is to destroy her?” Jason asked. “It doesn’t fit.”

  The admiral leaned back in his chair and continued to stare at one of the wall-mounted displays sited on the far side of the table. Eventually, he took an exaggerated long breath and let it out, saying, “Fuck if I know, son.”

  “My guess would be that it’s looking more like a conquering force engagement, one geared toward inhabiting … capturing the planet. Not blowing it up into space dust. I might be wrong, though.”

  “No … I’ve had similar thoughts. Something has changed.” The admiral got up from his chair. “You got something to drink around here?”

  Jason gestured toward a sideboard table. The admiral opened a cabinet door, found the half-full bottle of whisky, grabbed two glass tumblers, and poured. Reseated, the admiral clicked his glass against Jason’s and both men drained their glasses. Jason poured two more fingers worth into each glass.

  “What’s happening on Earth, Dad?”

  “Well, they’re scrambling. Washington is a ghost town. The president’s been moved below ground. The vice-president is constantly in the air, on Air Force Two. The majority of the cabinet is with the president; others are en route to Cheyenne Mountain … the NORAD and USNORTHCOM Alternate Command Center. It’s pretty much been asleep for the last decade, but there are few safer locations on the planet.” The admiral took another swig and continued, “Jason, under my orders, both Nan and Mollie are en route there now.”

  Chapter 12

  Ot-Mul had to give the Earth captain his due. Deciphering Craing communication protocols was something no one, at least to his knowledge, had ever done before. But it was that bogus overlord performance that brought an amused smile to Ot-Mul’s lips. To think that he and others within the fleet were so convincingly duped served to demonstrate humankind’s resourcefulness. Although many of the communications coming in from Terplin had been intercepted, or out-and- out blocked, enough of them had gotten through recently to paint a better, more accurate, picture of what the real state of affairs actually were, back on the home worlds. Most important to him was the news that acting-Emperor Lom had, in fact, subsequently died from his wounds, inflicted during the strategic missile attack.

  With his appointment to become emperor only a technicality now, Ot-Mul had never felt better about things. Although he’d never admit it, he was almost grateful to Captain Reynolds and that amazing ship of his.

  So, what to do about Earth? He would not be giving the order to destroy the planet … at least not today. With her bright blue oceans and temperate green continents, he’d rarely seen a more beautiful gem of a world. He could see why late Emperor Quorp had been so enamored with it. Terplin was an unspectacular, dreary world that did not befit Ot-Mul’s new stature. Directives for the Great Space would continue, but for now this star system would stay intact. Hell, if it could be cleansed of its human vermin population, Ot-Mul could not think of a better place to establish a new throne of Craing power. The problem before him was to destroy Earth’s populace, without destroying her beautiful landscape.

  Ot-Mul continued to sit upon the dulp-dulp, the Craing equivalent of a toilet and bidet all in one. He let his mind wander back in time to another far less interesting planet. Sandora? Tandora? No … Gandora, that’s it!

  Ot-Mul triggered the button on the nearby intercom panel. “I need you to check our containment cells.”

  The second-in-command officer waited for more, then asked, “What exactly are you looking for, my Lord?”

  “Five years back we came across a most distasteful creature. You were with me there, a planet called Gandora, or something like that. The planet surface was infested with these creatures … dark brown, multiple appendages; the things crawled around but could stand up straight as well.”

  “I’m sorry, my Lord, that’s not sounding familiar to me—”

  “Well, think harder … They’re hunters like I’ve never seen and they move with lightning- fast speed. They spit something to incapacitate their prey, then wrap them up in a cocoon.”

  “Oh, yes. Now I remember. You’re right … very unpleasant creatures. They breed like skatch flies. If we do have any they’d definitely be isolated from one another.”

  “Check and see,” Ot-Mul commanded, and cut the connection. He finished his business on the dulp-dulp and headed over to the shower. He stepped in and let the hot water envelop around him. His mind continued to ponder what his next move would be. He rinsed the tuft of hair at the top of his head before turning off the water and standing beneath the warm, overhead dry-blowers. The intercom was chiming.

  “Yes, go ahead, second.”

  “We have twenty-two of those molt weevils on board, my Lord. Eight males and fourteen females.”

  “What’s their typical incubation period?”

  “Once they’ve mated … they give birth the same day. Each litter contains no less than five thousand offspring.”

  That brought another smile to Ot-Mul’s lips. “Here’s the thing. I don’t want those creatures living forever. Be worse than the humans. Can you inject them with something—perhaps something that cuts down their, and their offspring’s, lifespan?”

  “Ingenious, my Lord. Certainly the molt weevils will be of a sufficient quantity in a few short days to have searched out every human on the planet. And you’re right, they incapacitate their quarry, wrapping it up in some kind of cocoon, for later feeding of their offspring.”

  “Fine … whatever. Just as long as all the molt weevils die off within the first few days.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem, my Lord. Shall I proceed, then?”

  “Yes, I want that planet teeming with these little killers as soon as possible.”

  * * *

  Nan continued to provide news network interviews until she and Mollie were directly ordered by the president to move to the protective site of Cheyenne Mountain. Nan knew things were far worse than the average person on the street was aware. Even with constant reassurances that the Allied fleet was now circling Earth, and would protect the planet from any alien onslaught, the general populace was quickly moving toward mass hysteria. Every available space-worthy warship had recently been deployed to upper space to bolster Earth’s defenses. The only option for traveling to DIA in Colorado was to fly commercial.

  Up ahead, through the throngs of people, Nan saw two federal DoD agents waiting for them as they disembarked from the plane. Both Nan and Mollie had carry-on suitcases in tow. Mollie
was having trouble with her suitcase. It repeatedly flipped around backward.

  “Stupid thing’s not rolling right!”

  “Just give it to me. You take mine,” Nan said. As soon as they swapped bags, sure enough, Mollie’s bag began to awkwardly flip around backward as Nan tried to pull it.

  Mollie giggled, “I told you that thing’s a piece of—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Nan answered irritably.

  “Ms. Reynolds, Mollie, I’m Special Agent Reese; this is Special Agent Clark.”

  Nan shook hands, first with the nice-looking black agent, and then with the serious, plain-faced woman.

  Agent Reese said, “If you will follow us, we have a car waiting nearby.”

  Nan and Mollie followed closely behind the two agents, nearly getting separated in the frantic, nearly hysterical, crowd. As eyes turned in Nan’s direction, inevitably there was recognition, often followed by finger pointing. She had one of the most public and recognizable faces in all government.

  Nan had a hard time keeping track of the two agents while also monitoring what was happening on the numerous high-mounted TVs around the airport. “Can you hold up?”

  Both agents stopped, neither looking pleased. They turned to see what Nan was looking at. Up on the monitor a Breaking News graphic took up the bottom portion of the screen. Above it, an animated diagram, depicting Earth in the center, showed three massive fleets approaching Earth from separate directions in space. Seven boxy-looking warships were moving into Earth’s orbit.

  “Oh my God. They’re already here!”

  “Who’s here, Mom?”

  “The Vanguard dreadnaughts,” Nan said, having a difficult time taking her eyes off the screen. She felt her cell phone vibrate in her breast pocket. Caller ID showed White House Switchboard. “Hello, this is Nan Reynolds.”

  After a series of clicks, President Ross’s voice was on the line: “Nan, I’m glad I caught you.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. We just landed and are en route to our car.”

  “Nan, you need to do whatever it takes to get to the safety of Cheyenne Mountain. In some ways you’re even more important than I am. In the coming days, if any of us live through this … the American people, hell, the world, will need reassurances from someone they trust. Get to the mountain, Nan. At all costs, just get there.”

  The line went dead. The TVs on the walls went black. The overhead lights flickered off. Moving fast, Agent Clark had Nan by the elbow—Reese scooped Mollie up in his arms.

  “Hey, my bag!” Mollie yelled, looking back over the tall agent’s shoulder. Reese was talking in an elevated voice. It was then Nan noticed he had the telltale curly-q wire at the back of his left ear.

  Reese said, “Yes, sir. But those were assets we were counting on … We’ll improvise. Yes, we’re en route now.”

  “What’s going on, Special Agent Reese?” Nan asked, as the four of them made an abrupt left into an Airport Employee Only set of doors.

  “Incoming,” Reese said. “Something’s dropping from space … we’re being invaded.”

  Men and women in various airport uniforms rushed by. Clark had her creds out and held up in front of her. No one seemed to care or even notice.

  Nan let that sink in and then wondered if this could be it … the end of the world. Nan looked toward Mollie and then, instinctively, looked toward the small windows on a set of double-doors. She saw a patch of bright blue sky. “Okay … So where are we going?” she asked, more persistently this time.

  “We need to requisition a new vehicle,” Agent Reese said.

  “I thought you had a car.”

  “It’s no longer there, ma’am.”

  Chapter 13

  The seven dreadnaughts moved into formation around Earth with stunning speed. Jason and the admiral stood together on the bridge and watched with horror as thirty or more U.S. warships came under immediate fire. It took only a single plasma blast from one of the dreadnaughts to atomize an Allied vessel.

  “Admiral, at this rate those dreadnaughts will take out the entire Allied fleet.”

  “I know that!” the admiral barked. “What would you have me do?”

  “Have them back off. At least until we figure out how to disable those big guns of theirs.” Jason wasn’t sure how well The Lilly would fare against those guns, and he didn’t want to find out the hard way.

  Pacing the length of the bridge, the admiral, two fingers up to his ear, was engaged in a heated discussion. From the one-sided conversation that Jason could hear, his father actually had multiple conversations going on with separate fleet commanders.

  A logistical display segment provided the sobering view of the situation. Three massive Craing fleets were en route from three different directions and looked to be no more than twenty-four hours out. The seven Vanguard dreadnaughts were now in high-orbit around Earth. Periodically, a bright amber vector line, depicting plasma bolts, meant, beyond any doubt, another Allied warship had ceased to exist.

  Finally, the Allied ships were backing off. Jason studied the screen, then turned to Orion. “Talk to me about those dreadnaughts, Gunny. Other than those guns, are they any different from what we’ve gone up against in the past?”

  “I’m afraid so, Captain,” she replied. “We’ve come across dreadnaughts with beefed-up defenses before. But these Vanguard ships are far more protected … more robust, with nearly twice the hull plating we’re used to seeing. Their internal defenses are formidable as well, as if they were designed especially for defense against a phase-shift incursion.”

  The admiral interrupted his own conversation and asked, “What does that look like? How do they defend against that?”

  Orion added a new segment to the wrap-around display showing an internal schematic view of a Vanguard ship. “These dreadnaughts no longer employ the same open main corridor. It was a tight fit before, but there was sufficient space to phase-shift The Lilly into. Now, though, the open corridor is closed off into multiple levels and is segmented. It still runs the length of the ship, close to a mile long, but everything is far more compartmentalized. They also have more plasma guns in use. Not too different from their new, external big guns, these are strategically mounted within the ship. They’ve gone out of their way to ward off any ship, such as The Lilly, or even smaller fighters, attempting to phase-shift into that corridor.”

  The admiral, having disconnected from his conversations, stood with his hands on his hips. “What’s the status on the Minian?”

  “Last we checked, she was still unable to move under her own power. We can always go get her, using The Lilly as we did back at the Craing worlds …”

  “And be without either ship here? I don’t think so.” The admiral snorted dismissively.

  “Captain, I was wrong. One of the seven dreadnaughts is different,” Orion said, adding a new segment to the overhead display. Jason saw that unlike the six uniformly black Vanguard warships, this dreadnaught looked fairly typical. The feed changed to a schematic view. “See? It has the standard configuration with the open main corridor.”

  “Finally, we get a break!” the admiral said.

  The screen zoomed in. “The ship’s been retrofitted with the same gargantuan plasma cannon, and maybe some additional plating, but that’s definitely not a Vanguard ship.”

  Jason’s mind was already at work on a plan. If they were going to attempt taking that dreadnaught they’d have to do it faster, stealthier, than the way they’d conducted their past incursions.

  “We have activity, Captain,” Orion said.

  Jason’s eyes had already caught movement on the adjacent feed. Both he and his father took a step closer.

  “What the hell are those?” the admiral said.

  “Drones. Non-piloted,” Orion said. “But this is weird … they’re teeming with life. Individual life signs for multi-thousands of organisms.”

  “What kind of organisms?”

  “The AI has a match.” Orion leaned in close
r to her console and the small holo-display in front of her. She made a disgusted face. “Molt weevils. A lot of legs and really deadly.”

  Jason continued to watch as one hundred or more small drones appeared from one of the Vanguard ships and, in single file, moved directly toward Earth below. “Target those drones …take them out … all of them!” Jason commanded.

  Jason had no sooner given the command, when more drones were released from the other dreadnaughts. One by one the drones were eliminated, downed by The Lilly’s multiple plasma cannons. Orion shook her head.

  “What is it?”

  “We took care of all the drones within our line of sight, nearly six hundred drones in total. But on the far side of the planet … that hidden dreadnaught’s drones have made it all the way down to the surface. I’m sorry, Captain.”

  Jason continued to watch his home planet slowly revolve on its axis. Seeing the continents of Europe and Asia before him, he knew which continents lay on the other side.

  The admiral spoke up first: “You’re telling me one hundred of those drones … drones teeming with some kind of alien life … just landed in North America?”

  “Yes, sir,” Orion said.

  “First thing’s first, Admiral. We need to deal with these dreadnaughts before we divert our attention, and before the other fleets arrive.” Jason returned his attention to the only non-Vanguard dreadnaught. “Where’s Bristol?”

  * * *

  “I don’t have a lot of time, Bristol. I’m not real sure why you chose me to escort you to see your brother,” Dira said.

  Bristol shrugged, but the truth was Dira was the only person on The Lilly who was ever nice to him. Maybe nice was too strong a word … she was accepting of him. Actually, Bristol wasn’t sure why he wanted to see his brother. It wasn’t like they had a strong sibling bond, or anything. But when it came right down to it, who else in his life really cared or mattered? If for no other reason, Bristol just wanted to say goodbye to his brother. Say goodbye to a past way of life.