The Great Space (Scrapyard Ship Book 6)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Nan was quiet for several moments and then said, “Okay.”

  Jason broke the NanoCom connection and looked up to see his assault team staring at him: thirteen, including himself. All wearing battle suits. They’d practiced flying maneuvers and Jason was not impressed. There’s no fucking way this is going to work, he thought.

  “Gunny has pre-configured each of your HUDs. We will be phase-shifting multiple times, but not as a group. That would draw attention to us. You’ll be alone in open space for quite some time. Don’t let that bother you. Once we’re in close enough, we will jointly shift onto the dreadnaught’s bridge and the second phase of our incursion will begin. If you have any questions, any at all, now’s the time to speak up.” Jason looked over the assault team but focused on the shorter members—the replacement bridge crew. Hesitantly, one held up a hand.

  “You, what’s your name again?”

  “Rup-Lor, Captain.”

  “What’s your question?”

  “Won’t the other dreadnaughts see us when we take the place of the other crew?”

  “Good question. No. We can only do this once. We’ll need to jam the comms signals, including video feeds, for ten seconds. That’s how long we’ll have once we phase-shift onto their bridge. And that brings up another important point. If there’s anything visual that is particular to the crewmembers you are replacing, take it from them … things like medallions, or—”

  “Vanguard fleet personnel have hair,” Rup-Lor interrupted.

  “What do you mean they have hair?” Jason asked.

  “On top of their heads, they have a small tuft of black hair.”

  Bristol hesitated and then spoke, sounding somewhat unsure of himself, “Maybe not these Craing. That ship is not a typical Vanguard ship. It’s a modified dreadnaught, but nothing like the other Vanguard vessels. Hey, I’m basically pulling this out of my ass here, but it’s probably a replacement ship. Perhaps for one that was destroyed. I suspect this crew won’t be the same elite Craing as those on board the other Vanguard ships.”

  Jason continued to stare at the small Craing. Why is this information only coming to light now? What else were they missing? Jason let out a long breath. There’s no way this is going to work.

  “Which one of you will be replacing the ship commander?”

  “I am,” Rup-Lor answered.

  “You will have multiple inquiries from the other ships regarding that ten-second comms blackout.”

  “Yes, sir. I will have an appropriate response: We were having intermittent communications issues and conducted a quick cycling of our systems.”

  “That sounds believable. Whatever you do, don’t panic. Don’t act suspicious in any way. We only need a few minutes to complete the plan, so keep your cool. Got that?”

  Every head nodded.

  Jason turned to Orion. “Gunny, you’ll be tasked with more to handle than anyone else: tracking the locations of everyone on the team; providing any last-minute changes to our phase-shift coordinates; and then, once we’re on board, working with the replacement tactical officer to target and lock on to the other ships.”

  “Aye, Cap, I’ve been working with NaNang. He’ll be at tactical and from what he’s told me, we’ll have no trouble targeting those other ships’ big plasma cannons.”

  “One last thing. We’re not particularly close to Earth’s higher orbit and these ships. That means we’ll be traveling millions of miles—it will take us close to an hour. Some of that will be phase-shifting, while some will be propulsion-based, sub-light travel, in order for our internal systems to recharge. Keep an eye on your HUD destination coordinates. Once we’re all within close enough range, Gunny will phase-shift us together onto the bridge at the same time.”

  Again, the team nodded their heads. Jason looked over to Orion. He was counting on her more than ever before. Behind her amber-colored visor, her eyes locked with his.

  “I got this, Cap.”

  “I know you do, Gunny.”

  Billy was at her side—also watching her. It was evident he was proud of her. It was then Jason noticed he had a stubby, unlit cigar clasped in the corner of his mouth.

  “Seriously, Billy?”

  Billy winked but didn’t say anything.

  Jason was being hailed.

  “Go for Captain.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me coming along?”

  “No, Dira. I want you to stay here and be ready for any incoming injured. But keep a SuitPac on your belt, just in case.” Jason waited for her to respond. After several seconds he asked, “Are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. Jason … I have a bad feeling about this. Like I’m not going to see you again. That this will be the last time we’ll ever speak to each other. Let me come with you.”

  Jason let his mind return to their last intimate encounter. The magnificence of her body, the warmth of her lips on his. How her eyes … so close to his own … eyes that seemed to pierce the depth of his very soul. “Hey, I’ll be back before you know it. Our time together is far from over.” Although he’d said the words, he too felt the same uncertainty. Was this the last time he’d hear her beautifully accented voice? He cut the connection.

  “Gunny, let’s get everyone out into open space.”

  * * *

  In a flash Jason was alone in space. He looked to his left. There it was—no more than the size of a quarter: Earth, like a distant beacon, glimmering blue and white against the blackness of space. He reviewed his HUD readings. The next phase-shift would take place in five minutes. He goosed his spacesuit thrusters to align himself toward Earth, throttled up to its full speed capacity, and cut propulsion. As Jason jetted through space in silence, he brought up the thumbnail feeds from the others on his team. If everyone had done what they were supposed to, he’d be seeing perspectives similar to his own—namely, Earth should be front and center for one and all. The twelve thumbnail feeds did, in fact, have Earth’s position right where it was supposed to be. So far so good. He was being hailed by Lieutenant Commander Perkins on The Lilly.

  “Go for Captain.”

  “Captain, we’ve picked up an interesting interstellar comms from the Craing worlds.”

  “Can’t this wait until I’m back on board, XO?”

  “I’m not sure. Ot-Mul, the Craing we know as the chief commander of that fleet of dreadnaughts, is being recalled back to Terplin.”

  “That’s nothing new, XO.”

  “Apparently there’s an uprising, Captain—resulting from our destroying key government and military infrastructures on the Craing worlds. It started with the students but it’s spreading. Millions have taken to the streets; some military and police groups have gone so far as to join the rebellion. What remains of the ruling government, mostly those next in line, like high overlords, see that the masses smell weakness … that this is their chance to strike. As acting-emperor, Ot-Mul is clearly needed back on Terplin, if there’s any chance to bring back stability.”

  In one respect this was incredibly good news. Hell, could this be the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, the end of war with the Craing?

  “What’s Ot-Mul saying? What’s he doing with this request?” Jason asked.

  “It’s hard to say. They’re attempting to better encrypt their comms transmissions, and to some extent it’s working. From the bits and pieces we have deciphered, Ot-Mul has reluctantly agreed to return to Terplin immediately.”

  * * *

  “Not now!” Ot-Mul said aloud, pounding his fist onto his desktop. Alone in his quarters he clenched his fists in fury. To be this close to victory. To witness for himself the final downfall of the Allied forces—to conquer the planet called Earth and step upon its soil, knowing the last of the Craing enemies had been defeated. But apparently that was not to be. There were new enemies—enemies among his own kind. Shortsighted imbeciles who would erase all that had been gained. Conquest after conquest for two hundred years—extending to the far reaches of the univ
erse—was that all for nothing?

  Ot-Mul sat back in his chair, forcing himself to calm down. Clarity. He could turn this around. Not only would he squelch the uprising back on the home worlds, he’d accelerate the Great Space initiative. That would start today … right now. He pressed a button on the intercom unit upon his desk.

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “My Second … You will ensure these four things take place. One, you are to prepare my schooner. I will be leaving for the home worlds immediately. Two, you are to continue taking control of this planet. You will eradicate all human existence and subsequently defend her as you would any of the Craing worlds. Third, upon the arrival of Fleet 9, Fleet 173, and Fleet 25, the Allied fleet will be destroyed. No ship will be spared, no survivors taken prisoner.”

  “And the final directive, my Lord?”

  “First, it is time for your own advancement. Vik-Ta, I am promoting you to Vice-Commander. Other than myself, no one wields a higher military rank. I trust you are up to the task?”

  “I am honored, my Lord. I am up to the task.”

  “Trust is everything, Vice-Commander Vik-Ta … tell me I can trust you.”

  “I am your servant, my Lord. You will not regret the faith you have placed in me.”

  “That is good. The fourth directive, Vice-Commander, is this: You will give the order to implement the Great Space initiative.”

  Chapter 19

  Both Reese and Gus had telescoping poles with extra large broom mops attached to one end. Reese was the first to dip his mop into one of the opened grease drums. He swooshed it around and pulled it out dripping with the black, viscous, gooey liquid. He hurried to the nearest ledge and slopped the mop over the edge, letting the grease waterfall down the building’s metal walls.

  Mollie stood several feet off Reese’s side to observe the results. “You’re going to need to keep slopping more of that stuff on the walls. It’s not reaching down far enough.”

  Reese gave Mollie a blank stare that said yeah, I know that, little girl …

  Gus, now with his own sopping mop, hurried to the other side of the roof and slopped more grease down that wall. Back and forth the two men continued until the first drum was emptied and two walls were completely covered—all the way down to the ground.

  “It’s working! They’re falling off the walls,” Mollie yelled excitedly.

  Nan scream and pointed, “Over there!”

  Two legs of a molt weevil had crested one of the still ungreased walls, pulling itself over the edge. Gus left his mop standing upright in the grease drum and picked up the double-barreled twelve-gauge shotgun he’d kept close by him on the roof. Too casually for Nan’s taste, he walked over to the molt weevil, which was now pulling the rest of its repulsive torso over the edge of the roof. He pointed the rifle and fired. The top portion of the creature disintegrated in a mist of brown sludge. Gus stepped forward and punted the rest of the carcass over the roof’s edge.

  Mollie ran forward to see it land. “No … Stop, Mollie!” Nan yelled, but her daughter was already at the edge. Mollie’s eyes, suddenly the size of saucers, froze and she stood paralyzed as another brown serpent-like leg appeared and quickly wrapped itself around one of her thin ankles.

  “Gus! Mollie’s leg,” Nan yelled.

  Startled, Gus fumbled open his shotgun’s dual barrels and tried to extricate the two spent shells. His hands were shaking and moving excruciatingly slow. Nan knew she was too far back to reach Mollie in time herself.

  Fortunately, Reese was already on the move. His muscular, athletic legs drove him forward. Arms pumping—his stride extended wide, like a track star.

  Shooting the thing at this point would not be an option—Mollie would simply be pulled over the edge along with it. From ten feet out Reese dove. With both arms outstretched, he hit the rough gravel and his momentum carried him forward. The speed in which Mollie’s foot was pulled out from under her caused Nan to scream again. Now on her backside, Mollie turned away from the molt weevil and the approaching roof’s edge. She was being pulled backward. Her ten clawed fingers dug into the roof’s gravely surface as she was steadily dragged toward the creature’s body.

  “Help me! Mom!”

  Reese was still sliding on his chest like he was body surfing; he brought his fingers within inches of Mollie’s own, but his momentum suddenly slowed. He began frantically peddling forward with the tips of his shoes, but the gravel had no traction. Mollie continued to be pulled backward. She now gazed back toward the ugly creature. She kicked at it with her other leg, but the beast caught that too in one of its free tentacles. Terrified, Mollie turned back around, one more time, in search of her mother. Running, Nan knew she was still too far away to do anything to help her.

  Swimming awkwardly on the loose gravel, Reese brought one hand down and positioned it on the roof. In a last ditch effort, he lunged forward. The tips of his fingers found the tips of Mollie’s—then her hand was clasped in his. Somewhere along the line, Gus had reloaded. With the muzzle of both barrels placed pointblank between the molt weevil’s eyes, he fired.

  * * *

  For the rest of the afternoon, Nan ensured that Mollie stayed close at her side. Gus and Reese finished coating the other walls with grease. While holding her hand, she let Mollie look over the edge.

  “Look at them. We’re safe up here and the stupid things can’t get to us. Ha-ha-ha!” Mollie said, scowling down at them. She made a mean face and stuck out her tongue.

  Covered from head to toe in grease, Reese and Gus joined them at the edge. “This definitely bought us some time, but I’m still tasked with getting you to the mountain,” Reese said, looking over at Nan.

  “Good luck with that, Agent Reese,” Nan replied. “There’s an ocean of those things down there.”

  Mollie looked up at Gus. “You don’t have a boat in that big garage down there, do you?”

  He chuckled and shook his head, then his features turned serious.

  Reese put a hand on the older man’s back. “Don’t worry about it … A boat wouldn’t really do us much good.”

  “No, a boat wouldn’t … but something else might. Come with me, all of you. Let me show you something. Hurry, before the sun goes down.”

  Reese, Nan, and Mollie followed Gus as he gingerly hurried down the long metal staircase leading to ground level. Once down, they had to catch their breaths; Gus was huffing and puffing more than the others; his greasy Grateful Dead T-shirt had dark underarm sweat stains.

  “You okay, brother?” Reese asked, watching Gus struggle for air.

  “I’m fine. ‘Spose it’s time to stop smoking.”

  “Smoking is a nasty habit, Gus,” Mollie chimed in.

  “Yes, it is. Most definitely, young lady, I’m gonna quit—I promise you that. Come on … Enough standing around. This way.”

  Gus headed off toward the large equipment displays. Nan, bringing up the rear, took in what looked like artfully arranged mini movie sets. Manikins dressed in overalls, bright orange road-crew vests and hard hats posed in mid-motion behind big steering wheels, or standing atop mounds of plowed dirt. Just as Gus had said earlier, the equipment grew in size and the displays became more and more elaborate the further into the garage they went.

  “How far do we have to go?” Mollie asked from the middle of the group.

  “All the way to the end of this row,” Gus replied.

  They were currently passing something called a Highway Miner, at least that’s what the display sign indicated. Massive, it apparently was used to make multilane highways. There was something unsettling about machinery this size, Nan thought. Perhaps it was how unsubstantial it made her feel. The group slowed and fanned out in front of something so goliath, so mountainous, they had to crane their necks back to see to its very top.

  Gus took a few steps forward and turned toward the others. “What you’re looking at, ladies and gentleman, is the Caterpillar 797F … the biggest damn truck in the world. Nominal payload capa
city is a staggering 400 tons. We’re talking a machine with a whopping 4000 horsepower!”

  Nan continued to stare up at the massive dump truck. A bright shiny yellow, it was as big as a building—easily two, maybe three stories high and fifty feet long. The wheels alone were twice the height of an average man.

  “I bet it has a cool stereo. How fast does it go?” Mollie asked.

  “About forty-two miles per hour is her top speed.”

  Mollie nodded, standing there and taking it all in, her hands on her hips. “Um … why are you showing this to us?”

  Nan had to smile. She had been about to ask the very same question.

  Reese spoke up before Gus had a chance to answer. “This is our ticket to the mountain. This is our boat.” Reese walked over to one of the gigantic black rubber wheels and reached up with one arm. It didn’t come close to reaching the tire’s top. He smiled. “What else would be able to traverse a landscape six feet deep in molt weevils?”

  Mollie turned and looked at her mother with a furrowed brow.

  “What is it, pumpkin?”

  “If those things can climb up the side of a flat building, they’ll be able to climb all over that machine. And I don’t think we’re all going to fit in that little cab area up there.”

  Nan, Mollie and Reese turned to look at Gus.

  With a bemused expression, he said, “We still have two more drums of that grease.”

  Chapter 20

  In a matter of minutes, the overhead skylights had gone dark. It was nearly impossible to see even five feet away. Gus and Reese had rushed off toward another area of the building. Nan and Mollie sat together below the bottom rung of a stepladder at the front of the big truck. Nan didn’t like the way Gus looked. His color was off. Even with the dirt, grime and grease, his pallor just looked wrong—and what was with that profuse sweating?

  Reese suddenly appeared out of the darkness, pushing something and positioning it near the truck. Nan had seen similar electric generators at the scrapyard. This one was brand new and was labeled a Honda EB5000. She figured the 5000 related to the unit’s output watts. This certainly should provide serious job site electrical power.