The Great Space (Scrapyard Ship Book 6)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Gaddy avoided Chala’s eyes and said, “Hold on, Zay …” She covered the device with her other palm and finally looked at Chala. “Almost a year. Sorry … It just happened. We were both getting more and more interested in political causes. At that time you didn’t want to … or were too afraid to get involved. I’m sorry … but I need to talk to Zay.” She brought her attention back to the PoCom and spoke quickly. Several times she had to tell him to stay on the subject at hand, and that she’d tell him everything later.

  Chala sat back down on the gurney, looking dejected. As Gaddy finished up her conversation, she quietly whispered something to Zay before ending the call.

  “So does he know where Ot-Mul is hiding out?” Jason asked.

  “He thinks so. Zay-Lee told me that since I’ve been gone he has been elevated to one of the leaders of the revolution. He said it’s not safe to discuss this over the PoCom … he’s on his way here now.”

  “Zay?” Chala blurted out. “Zay can’t even make it to class half the time. The Zay I know has trouble deciding what to wear in the morning … how is he supposed to make the important decisions crucial to leading the resistance?”

  Gaddy left Chala’s comment unanswered.

  Jason kept Gaddy on task: “How long before Zay gets here?”

  “Not long. Maybe an hour.”

  “In the meantime we need to get out of sight. Chala, is there a gymnasium on campus?”

  Chala shrugged her shoulders, apparently not in the mood to have anything to do with him, or anyone else.

  “There’s an indoor Gallopy court,” Gaddy answered for her. Seeing Jason’s blank expression, she said, “It’s similar to your game of tennis … only we use live intelligent interaction instead of a dumb yellow ball.”

  * * *

  The Gallopy court was more similar to a basketball court than to a tennis court, but in terms of being an adequate size to phase-shift the Streamline into, it was fine. It was a dimly lit arena of sorts; Jason guessed it could seat several thousand spectators. While waiting for Zay to arrive, Jason and Billy explored the surroundings.

  Both wore battle suits and carried a multi-gun.

  “Funny … here we have an alien culture millions of miles from Earth, and life isn’t all that different,” Billy noted as they entered what appeared to be a locker room. “No separate men and women dressing and showering facilities, though.”

  “I’m not so sure female Craing have the same rights to play athletics. Or maybe only males play Gallopy.” Jason shrugged his shoulders in response.

  “You hear that?” Billy asked.

  Not only did he hear the same distant flittering sounds—like tiny feet running—that Billy did, Jason saw perhaps hundreds of life-sign icons pop up on his HUD. Sensitivity settings kept small organisms from typically showing up, but as they left the locker room and entered into a smaller, adjoining area, the life icons came to life.

  Jason’s and Billy’s helmeted spotlights provided just enough light to see the area was about twenty feet by thirty. There were four long tables, with ten stools positioned around each one, holding a collection of tools, and bundles in varying lengths of leather straps. It seemed the life icons, along with the loud skittering sounds, were coming from the back of the room. Billy and Jason approached the back wall. The size of standard mouse or hamster cages, hundreds of clear enclosures were stacked, row upon row, all the way to the ceiling ten feet above.

  They moved in closer—bringing their visors within several inches of a cage. Expecting to see a small mouse, or perhaps some kind of reptilian creature, Jason and Billy both took a quick step backward.

  “Holy shit!” Billy exclaimed. He looked from the interior of the enclosure over to Jason and then back. “This is messed up, man.”

  Jason had a queasy feeling in his stomach. The enclosure directly in front of him, in fact all the enclosures, held small beings that, with the exception of their four- or five-inch statures, were human in every other sense of the word.

  “I’m sure they only look … human,” Billy said. “I mean, how—”

  Billy’s own words were cut short by two simple ones … “Help me.”

  * * *

  Jason had brought a single enclosure out, where it currently rested on the gurney next to Dira. Gaddy and Chala had gone quiet. Eventually, Gaddy spoke up: “Yes, they’re human. But we didn’t do this to them.”

  “We?” Billy asked.

  “The Craing. And it happened well over ten years ago. It was a space anomaly that affected an area of space … not a black hole, but something similar … not sure. Everything within hundreds of thousands of miles was altered … reduced to a fraction of normal size. The inhabitants of the space station didn’t even realize what had happened to them until a Craing freighter discovered them.”

  “How many people are we talking about?” Jason asked.

  Gaddy held Jason’s stare for several long seconds before answering, “Thousands.”

  Billy was on the verge of going ballistic. “So … how do these unfortunate sons of bitches end up in cages at a Gallopy arena?”

  “They were brought back here … to the Craing worlds. Everyone wanted one. You have to understand; they were prized … valued. These incredibly unique little beings were like nothing else in the universe.”

  “So prized they were treated like caged rodents?”

  “It wasn’t like that!” Gaddy spat back.

  No one spoke.

  Chala, wedged in at the far end of the gurney, fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

  “So what’s with this game? How are they used?”

  Guilt spread across Gaddy’s face. “You have to understand there were thousands of them. I don’t know who exactly, but someone came up with a game, which then turned into a competitive sport. The small beings, we call them Gallos, are placed into spheres that they themselves can control … sort of navigate.”

  “Go on,” Dira said.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Let me see if I can paint this picture,” Billy said with a smile, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve basically come up with a sport where a small ball is batted around a court. Right?”

  Gaddy looked exasperated, “Not me personally, but yeah.”

  “And to make things interesting, you’ve added another element. Tiny, defenseless, people … people whose very survival depends on their ability to maneuver these balls … these spheres. What an exciting aspect … seeing if the little humans can stay alive long enough to make it to the end of the game.”

  Gaddy stayed quiet.

  “So what happens when you’ve killed them all off? Certainly a thousand people put through this kind of treatment across your seven worlds, in all your schools and universities, wouldn’t survive all that long,” Jason asked.

  Gaddy’s lips compressed into a line and her eyes stayed locked on the deck. She looked small and vulnerable, like she wanted to disappear. The long silence was deafening.

  Chala finally yelled the answer for her: “We breed them, okay? We breed the little fuckers!”

  Chapter 36

  Eight hours had passed since they’d embarked on their mission, leaving The Lilly for the Streamline, and Jason was already feeling a pull to get back there—to defend Earth … to rescue Nan and Mollie. Sure, from a tactical and academic standpoint, their mission to find Ot-Mul was imperative for Earth’s ultimate survival. Jason knew that … but it was hard to think in universal terms when real-life emotions were at play. Jason’s inner monologue was interrupted when Traveler passed by, carrying a stack of little enclosures.

  Prior to Zay’s arrival, Jason asked his team to help transport the hundreds of enclosures containing the tiny humans from the back room of the Gallopy arena building into the Streamline. Ricket informed Jason of an available storage cubicle about the same size as the one allocated to Medical. As happy as the miniature humans were to see fellow humans, they weren’t happy they still
were required to stay in cages. In fact, they were fairly adamant they should be freed right away. But from a safety standpoint, there were too many chances of them being stepped on—or sat upon. As the stack of cages filled every inch of the small cubicle space, the chattering and yelling of the confined humans increased exponentially. Jason attempted to calm them down, let them know their concerns would be addressed, all in good time, but soon found his patience stretched beyond limits and, against her clear objections, handed the new job of small-people ambassador over to Dira.

  Zay-Lee arrived two hours later. The approach of his small, dilapidated ship was picked up by Grimes on the Streamline’s sensors. Everyone, except a now over-extended Dira, moved outside, into the quad’s quieter atmosphere, and waited to greet him as he exited from a rickety gangway at the rear of a military-modified cargo vessel. He was accompanied by three young Craing males near Gaddy’s and Chala’s age. In an Earth-like, urban bad-boy style, he wore a brown long sleeve T-shirt, torn green trousers, and a knit skullcap pulled all the way down to his eyes. A holstered pistol hung loosely around his hips. Zay was the first to approach and seemed genuinely excited when he saw Gaddy, giving her a long, affectionate hug, followed by an extended kiss on the mouth. Surprised, he noticed Chala standing nearby and awkwardly moved to embrace her as well. She held up both palms and rapidly shook her head, letting him know the thought of touching him was revolting. Embarrassed, he took a step backward. The tension between Gaddy and Chala could be cut with a knife, and Zay was not oblivious to that, either. Gaddy introduced Zay to Jason and his team, and then let Zay introduce his friends. Zay and his cohorts eyed Traveler warily, apparently unsure what to make of the seven-foot-tall rhino-warrior.

  “We have a lot to talk about, Zay,” Jason said. “I’d like to hear about the revolution … your successes as well as your failures. But right now, finding Ot-Mul is paramount to us.”

  “Didn’t Gaddy tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” Jason asked, glancing in her direction.

  “Oh … sorry, I forgot to mention it.”

  “Anyway,” Zay continued, “we’ve determined he’s not on any of the Craing worlds. We suspect he’s being harbored on Itimus-four.”

  Jason shook his head and waited for Zay to continue, having no idea what Itimus-four was.

  “That’s one of Terplin’s five moons. Highly secluded, it is home and refuge to the high priest overlords. Reports are he’s within the walls of Chrimguard, an ancient and highly fortified Grand Sacellum. Since the average Craing is not allowed to set foot on that particular moon, there’s little intel for us to go on.”

  Zay and his rebel friends were having a hard time focusing on something other than the scattered bodies of dead students. And with the rising sun and its accompanying morning heat, there was the ever-increasing aroma of decomposing flesh. Jason gestured with both hands for everyone to move away from the quad and to follow him in the direction of the Gallopy arena.

  “The reports you’re referring to, where are they coming from?”

  “From our counterparts on Terplin. Let me be clear, Captain Reynolds, no one’s actually seen the acting-emperor. What we do have are encrypted interstellar communications, all now being generated out of Itimus-four.”

  “What’s so important about that?” Jason asked.

  “It’s gone from zero transmissions to totally off the charts. There’s no reason for a religious compound to be transmitting at that magnitude. But if you factor it from a command standpoint, the Great Space initiative requires tremendous logistical administrative support and coordination. We’re fairly certain Ot-Mul has set himself up there to oversee his military assets in outer space, while still managing the rebellion locally, here within Craing space.”

  Jason saw the logic in what Zay was saying. In fact, he was sure the young Craing rebel leader was right on target.

  They approached the Gallopy arena where both large doorways had been propped open. There was now adequate light streaming in to see inside the arena and see Dira standing by the Streamline, casually leaning against the ship’s outer hull.

  The four Craing men slowed and Jason heard them commenting in hushed tones. Even in the semi-darkness the Streamline was an impressive little ship. But Jason was mistaken; it wasn’t the ship they were enamored with—it was Dira. As if on stage, she was cast in a rectangular beam of sunlight. Her violet skin seemed to glow, and when she smiled, her contrasting perfect white teeth brought all to a standstill.

  She caught Jason’s eye and pointed in the general direction behind her. “Sorry … I should be in there but they never shut up. Perhaps it’s being so small that makes their voices become … I don’t know, more high-pitched?”

  Jason saw Zay and his friends looking confused, but Jason didn’t want to go into the whole tiny-human-thing again. He also no longer wanted to go inside the ship. If Dira couldn’t take the noise he certainly couldn’t either.

  Jason addressed Zay: “Tell me what resources the rebellion has at their disposal.”

  “Resources?”

  “Other rebels, such as yourselves; weapons; ships?”

  The four looked at each other uneasily. “You saw the ship we came in. We have a handful of crafts similar to that. We also have an old, broken-down light cruiser hidden away on Halimar, but it’s not operational yet. No one knows how to repair it. As for rebels …” Zay smiled, “we have tens of thousands of citizens ready—wanting to fight. Weapons are another issue. There’s not enough to go around.”

  Jason shook his head; theirs really was a grassroots rebellion. He was surprised they’d stayed alive this long, considering the superior resources available to the emperor.

  Billy, his head enveloped in a cloud of white cigar smoke, cleared his throat. “It’s not a game, kid. Going to war is a serious business. Do it wrong, not using proper discrimination, and all you’ll accomplish is getting your people killed.”

  “We were hoping you could provide us with the kind of resources you’re talking about.”

  Jason looked at the young Craing and tried to disassociate him from the actions of the ruling Craing, who had enslaved and tormented thousands of captive humans—some stacked in small cages mere feet behind him. Was theirs an evolving society, ready for change? He didn’t know.

  Ricket exited the Streamline and stood next to Jason.

  “You’re the one called Ricket?” one of Zay’s cohorts said.

  “I am Ricket.”

  “Why aren’t you a part of this? We … everyone … know who you are … who you were. You’re famous.”

  Jason saw an incoming NanoText request come in from Ricket. Jason read the message and looked down at his Craing friend. He thought about what was being asked and eventually nodded his assent.

  Ricket removed a small rucksack from his shoulder and handed it to Zay. “Ensure these do not get into the hands of the emperor’s forces.”

  Zay opened the top of the rucksack, reached a hand inside and came out holding a SuitPac device. He flipped it around between his fingers several times before looking over to Ricket. “What are they?”

  Ricket took a step backward and triggered the small metallic device hanging from his own belt. Within three seconds his battle suit expanded out, one segmented section at a time, until he was fully encased in the advanced Caldurain technology of a hardened armored suit. Jason saw Zay’s wide-eyed reflection staring back in Ricket’s amber visor.

  Ricket said, “These suits can propel you into space … have integrated weaponry … and will protect you from almost anything the Craing forces will fire at you. There are twenty-five of these SuitPacs in that rucksack. Instructions on the suit’s usage are accessible via the HUD readouts.”

  Zay continued to look into the open sack as if he’d discovered a pot of gold. Perhaps he had, Jason thought. “Outfitted with those suits, Zay, you can board a Craing cruiser or storm a military compound. But as Billy, here, said so eloquently: it’s not a game. Going to war is s
erious business. Do it wrong, or indiscriminately, and all you’ll accomplish is getting your own people killed. So do it right … build an organization; train yourselves in the ways of combat. If you can, align yourselves only with those who would join your fight. That won’t be us. At least not today.”

  “Thank you, Captain Reynolds.”

  “Don’t thank me. Those are a gift from Ricket.”

  Chapter 37

  Chala chose to stay on Halimar with Zay; he’d promised to get her home. The way things were left, there was still a rift between Gaddy and Chala. Jason, although he didn’t say anything, was glad to leave the drama behind. Within minutes of reentering the Streamline, Jason was ready to rethink his rescue of the small humans. Their chattering was constant and, as Dira had mentioned, their higher-pitched voices were beyond grating.

  Before Grimes would receive orders to take the Streamline into space, that situation needed to be dealt with—one way or another.

  Dira and Jason stood at the narrow entrance to the storage cubicle. He looked at the stacks of enclosures, all positioned to face in the same outward direction, and he could see most of the tiny humans in the closest deck-to-ceiling stack. Although they were humanlike in every sense of the word, they were not from Earth and they did not speak English, or any of Earth’s languages. It was only through his internal nano-tech that Jason was able to understand what they were saying and for them, too, to understand what he was saying.

  As Jason stood near the containers, their chattering increased. He glanced down the aisle and saw annoyed crew faces turned toward him. Traveler looked as if he was imminently close to killing someone. Jason brought his attention back to the enclosures.

  “Can everyone hear me?” Jason heard too many responses back to keep track of, but the gist of their replies wasn’t friendly. “I am Captain Reynolds. Let me be perfectly clear from the start. If you don’t settle down and shut up, I’m going to leave you here … where it’s back to being batted around in some future Gallopy match. It’s entirely up to you.”