Ricket (Star Watch Book 2)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  The voice came from the far end of the table. Jason had avoided looking at her up until then. “That no one person, not even the captain, was fully responsible for what transpired in that space repository.”

  “Thank you, Dira … that’s exactly right. Should your captain have made better decisions? I suspect so. But he did the best he could with the information provided him. I’d be hard pressed to find a single one of you on the bridge yesterday who didn’t screw the pooch in some way or another. Own it and learn from it. And one more thing … next time, don’t be so ready to point fingers. Now, I need the room … everyone return to your respective stations.”

  Jason felt Dira pat his arm as she moved past him and out the door. Jason waited for the last of his crew to leave before speaking. “That wasn’t necessary, Admiral. I didn’t need defending … in the end, what happened was my own damn fault.”

  “You’re damn right it was!” Dixon, now seated next to Jason, looked as angry as he’d ever seen him. “Let me be perfectly clear here … Star Watch is a pilot program. Do you have any idea how many in the Alliance want to pull that ship away from you for their own directives?”

  “I imagine quite a few.”

  “Yeah … quite a few … and then what do you do? You bring her back safe? NO! You had to be towed back to Jefferson Station … the Minian all beat to shit. I’ve been in non-stop meetings with fleet admirals, Alliance dignitaries, even the president, asking how you were so easily caught with your pants down around your ankles.”

  What the admiral said was true—Jason had no excuse. His assumption that the Minian was undefeatable, mixed with a blind desire to take down Captain Oz, was inexcusably shortsighted. He’d take whatever punishment the admiral threw at him—but he didn’t want to lose command of the Minian. Until then, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted to keep command of her. The admiral spoke up again: “Where is Ricket, Jason? You’re going to need him to get this vessel back in fighting form.”

  It took a moment for Jason to jump tracks. “Ricket … he’s … we don’t know where he is. He was on a day-mission to the Mansan Core system, assisting with Eriok’s planetary defenses.”

  “Did he make it there, has he reported in?”

  “Yes … Ricket and his team made it to Port City, and began work on the planet’s surface.”

  “His team?”

  “Captain Leon Pike and Hanna delivered Ricket there in Pike’s small trader ship, the SpaceRunner. But we’ve heard nothing from them in over twenty-two hours. I need a ship, sir. We need to find Ricket and the others.”

  Admiral Dixon stared flat-faced at Jason. “You want another ship?”

  Jason didn’t answer. He knew the question was rhetorical and, at that point, saying less was probably better than saying too much.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to separate you from your crew at this time. You have some issues to work out. So what you need is an off-duty ship without a crew. How many of those do you think we have lying around?”

  Jason was well aware there were quite a few. The long war with the Craing had finally ended and thousands of warships were being mothballed. Jason knew enough not to say anything.

  “Take your father’s ship. It’s not scheduled for redeployment for another week. The crew is on leave. It is, actually … just by chance … stationed here at Jefferson Station. But listen to me, Jason: The vessel already has a crew … and the assigned captain fully expects to board a functional, still in one piece, spaceship. Don’t ruin another perfectly fine ship.”

  His offer surprised Jason. Next to the Minian, the Assailant was the most powerful warship in the Alliance fleet. She also possessed an advantage that no other Allied vessel did. She had cloaking capability—was able to go invisible visually so even the most advanced sensors couldn’t detect her.

  “I don’t expect to need her for more than a day … two, at the most. Rest assured, Admiral, she’ll be as good as new when we bring her back.”

  Admiral Dixon let out a breath and nodded, although his expression didn’t convey confidence in what he was hearing. “Leave the Caldurian behind … Granger … he can direct repairs on the Minian while you’re gone.”

  “Thank you, Admiral.”

  “Go ahead and take a day, maybe two, to locate the SpaceRunner and to find Ricket. But take the rest of the week completing your previous directive. I want Captain Mar Oswaldo in custody … or eliminated, if absolutely necessary.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Until you do, Star Watch’s effectiveness will come into question. I can’t have that.”

  That was music to Jason’s ears … he needed a second opportunity to grab Oz. He’d been duped once … that wasn’t going to happen again.

  The admiral continued, “One more thing … I’m well aware of your actual rank, Jason. There comes a time when we need to come to terms with our full responsibilities. Admirals don’t command warships, Jason … they command fleets.”

  Jason let that sink in for a second before answering, “With all due respect, Admiral, the day I’m required to ride a desk is the exact same day I retire from Star Watch, and from the Allied fleet command.”

  Chapter 4

  Sol System, Jefferson Station

  The Assailant, Captain’s Ready Room Office

  __________________________

  It took the rest of the afternoon for the crew and supplies to be loaded onto the Assailant. They’d be leaving Jefferson Station first thing in the morning, at 06:00 sharp. That would give him five hours of sleep. Sitting in the dark, at the small desk in the captain’s office, there was one more thing Jason wanted to do before hitting his bunk. He waited for the connection to be made. The display suddenly came alive and his father’s face filled the screen. With no less than three days’ silver stubble, plus several black grease streaks on his one cheek, Jason was fairly certain what chore his father had just been pulled away from—he’d been under the hood of his partially restored 1949 Ford F-pickup.

  “Son?”

  “What time is it there, Dad?”

  “How the hell should I know? These days I get up when the sun comes up. What’s wrong … you okay?”

  The admiral seemed to be adjusting to retirement at the family scrapyard in San Bernardino, California, as well as could be expected. Perry Reynolds, now in his mid-sixties, was captured two months earlier and badly tortured. The degree to which he had suffered wasn’t completely known … his father hadn’t volunteered to discuss it. But that arduous time spent with Lord Vikor Shakrim stole something from the Allied Fleet Commander. He wasn’t the same … he’d lost his edge. He’d taken the suggestion to retire in stride, offering up no objections. That alone was out of character for his father and demonstrated how affected he was by his ordeal with the vicious Sahhrain leader.

  “I’m fine … just wanted to check in. How’s the ’49?”

  “Waiting on parts … in the meantime, I’m working on a Studebaker Commander convertible.”

  Jason thought about that. He knew every inch of their three-football-field-sized scrapyard property. “We don’t have a Commander in the yard.”

  That remark evoked a smile from his father. “We do now. One was dropped off two weeks ago.”

  “You bought it?”

  “What if I did?” his father replied, somewhat indignant. He turned his back to the laptop camera and Jason could see him refilling his coffee cup in the kitchen.

  The truth was, Jason and his father would never have to pinch pennies—both were awarded multi-millions of dollars for their contributions during the Craing war.

  His father continued, “The previous owner, a guy older than me living in Reseda, was recently killed by a horde of peovils. His wife let me know it was available for the right price.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing it. What color is it?”

  Again the smile. “Canary yellow … she’s a sweet automobile, in fine shape. Doesn’t run for shit … but I’ll get her going.”r />
  “I’m sure you will, Dad.”

  His father took a sip of the hot coffee and stared back at Jason, assessing him. “Out with it.”

  “I’m fine. Can’t a son check in with his old man once in a while?”

  “Take some time off … you can help me with the Commander.”

  Jason nodded. “I will … soon. You look good, Dad. It’s good to see you again.”

  “Stay in touch.” The connection was gone but Jason continued to stare at the screen. Two arms slid around his shoulders and chest from behind. Dira brought her lips down to his neck and gently kissed him. She turned him in his chair and slid into his lap—her arms encircling his neck. Now facing him, she kissed him on the mouth.

  “When did you sneak in here?” he asked.

  “I checked with the AI to see if Boomer was asleep … figured you could use a little TLC tonight.”

  She kissed him again and he felt the tip of her tongue begin probing and exploring his mouth. He felt his passion for her grow where she straddled him. He slid his hands down her back, realizing she was completely naked. He cupped her two firm bottom cheeks and, in one fluid motion, lifted her up and stood. Her legs wrapped around his waist.

  “Where do you think you’re taking me?” she whispered—her lips lightly brushing his ear.

  “I’m taking you to my bed, woman.”

  “Oh … but I’m not a woman … I’m not even human … so what you’re doing is very, very dirty.”

  Jason kissed her, harder now, and carried her down the narrow hallway and into his quarters. He brought her down to the bed and released her. The overhead lights were dimmed to the point he could just make out the contours of her slender form, lying on the bed beneath him. Her light violet skin, her breathtaking beauty, gripped his heart. He watched as her hands came up and covered her breasts—as if timid or embarrassed by her own nakedness. He knew she wasn’t, not in the least. But she knew how to tease … how to draw him in. Jason undressed, never letting his eyes veer from hers. Then, slowly, he lowered himself onto her. She guided him into her—into that special place no human woman possessed. Her fingers tugged at the back of his head, grabbing two fistfuls of hair. As their lovemaking grew in intensity, her grip tightened—pulling his head back to the point he wanted to scream out. Her own escalating moans grew in intensity, forcing her to free one hand to cover her mouth. Soon, together, the muscles in their arms … their legs … their abdomens, tightened … went rigid … and they drew each other in, desperately, closer and closer, until there was no space between them … until they were one.

  * * *

  Jason entered the Assailant’s bridge and was reminded how small it was compared to the Minian. The bridge crew was already there, and going through their pre-departure routines. He caught Orion’s eye: “We good, Gunny?”

  “We’re good, Cap … going to find Ricket?”

  “Damn right … first thing on the agenda.”

  “Let me guess what the second thing is …” a voice said from behind them. Billy Hernandez stood at the back of the bridge and shrugged. “Well, she’s not what we’re used to, but the ship has its plusses … I guess.”

  “Yeah? Name one,” Orion said.

  “She’s operational … whereas our other ship seems to have … well … a few mechanical problems.”

  Jason took his seat midway inside the small bridge. Like the bridge itself, even the chair seemed cramped. He wondered how his father’d managed to sit there, with his substantially-larger derriere.

  There was a large, curved step down in front of the command chair that ran the width of the bridge, where Billy chose to sit, holding a steaming cup of coffee.

  Jason waited for the question he knew was coming. Billy was Jason’s closest friend and together they’d fought side by side—first on Earth, as Navy SEALs; then through the Craing wars in space, in multiple alien worlds. He was the officer-in-charge of their onboard military contingent—now commonly referred to as Billy’s Sharks.

  “You do know I had to leave two-thirds of my people on-station, don’t you, Cap?”

  “We’re all making sacrifices, Billy,” Jason said, looking around the bridge.

  Billy lowered his voice, “What the hell happened yesterday? You losing your edge? Perhaps married life’s made you soft?”

  “I’m not married yet … and this isn’t an appropriate conversation for the bridge.” Jason saw Orion, faced away from them, give a subtle nod.

  Billy scooted closer, then crouched down right next to the command chair. “It’s not like Ricket to simply disappear like that. We’d all be hard-pressed to find anyone more conscientious than that little alien. Something’s wrong, and I don’t like what I’m … well, what I’m thinking.”

  Jason had nothing to add to Billy’s remark. He’d not been able to think of anything else all morning. He was responsible for the three individuals on that mission, and Ricket was as close a friend to him as Billy. If something catastrophic had happened to him it would be a tremendous loss. Although he didn’t know Leon Pike or Hanna very well, he’d come to respect them both. Neither were bound to the Minian, but both had opted, at least for now, to stay and lend their support. They’d become an invaluable resource running reconnaissance into civilian territory. Leon’s ship, the SpaceRunner, was an impressive, fast, vessel.

  “Where are we starting the search?” Billy asked.

  “At the last place we heard from them … Mansan Core system … a nondescript little planet called Eriok.”

  Billy stood up to leave.

  “Hey, how large a contingent of Sharks do you have, Billy?”

  “Around five hundred—plus or minus a few. Oh, and about thirty-five Tahli warriors, in training.”

  Jason lowered his forehead into the palm of his hand. “Sorry about that, Boomer can be—”

  “It’s not her … trust me on that. What she can accomplish with that shield-thing of hers is nothing short of amazing. No … the men requested that she train them. It’s she who set the limit at a thirty-five person class size. All my guys want the training.”

  Jason knew Boomer was continuing with her Kahill Callan training. She’d kept in contact with several Blues within the Dacci system, and with one Kahill Callan master, in particular. How she continued with her own training, virtually, Jason wasn’t quite sure.

  Billy left the bridge.

  “Captain, the Assailant is good to go,” McNeil said, from the forward, port side of the bridge.

  “Seaman Gordon, request clearance to pull off.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  While Jason waited for station clearance, he opened his virtual notebook and ran through his crew roster, levels of supplies, weaponry status and ammunition stocks, and, specifically, all red flagged items. Even with the Minian, there were always issues … problem areas. Some were fixable, such as broken light fixtures or plumbing problems; others, inherent in the design of the ship, required finding new ways to cope with each issue. Jason’s eyes locked on one such red lined item: the cloaking system on the Assailant had a tendency to trigger itself off, arbitrarily causing the ship to suddenly become visible. Jason remembered his father complaining about that in the past and what a nuisance it was. Jason used his internal NanoCom to hail Bristol.

  “Yeah?”

  Jason let out an exasperated breath. The young junior science officer had maintained a wiseass attitude for as long as he’d known him. “I want you up on the bridge,” Jason said. “You’ll be filling in for both Ricket and Granger on this ride.”

  “Um … give me a few minutes. Still haven’t taken care of the three Ss.”

  Jason rolled his eyes and cut the connection. Bristol was referring to Shit, Shower and Shave; he’d undoubtedly caught Bristol still lounging in his bunk.

  “We’ve been granted clearance to pull away, Captain,” Seaman Gordon said.

  “Helm … take us away from Jefferson Station.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  T
en minutes later, Bristol entered the bridge. He walked to the station next to Orion and made a face. She looked over at him and pointed to another station, on the opposite side of the bridge. “Whoever configured this layout was an idiot,” he muttered aloud to himself. He passed in front of Jason without acknowledging him, taking a seat by himself at the open station.

  “Bristol, I want you to take a look at the ship’s problem with the cloaking system.”

  He nodded his head. “It’s probably not a problem here on the bridge.”

  “I didn’t mean right this second … when you can, though.”

  “No problem, Captain.”

  His reply was about as congenial and respectful as Bristol ever got. Jason and Orion exchanged a surprised look between them.

  McNeil said, “Captain, our request for an interchange wormhole has been granted. It’s forming now, forty-six thousand miles ahead, before our bow. The outpoint will bring us within five hundred thousand miles of Eriok, sir.”

  Jason saw the multi-colored spatial aberration already taking form on the forward bridge screen. “Take us in, Helm … true and steady.”

  Chapter 5

  Open Space, Nearing Arkwane

  Parcical, Ricket’s Quarters

  __________________________

  Leon moved to the front of his confinement cell, right up against the bulkhead. He could feel the energy field emanating inches from his face. “Hanna? You there?”

  There was no reply. Earlier, the Caldurian commander had done something—making it impossible to verbally communicate. He’d obviously instigated some kind of mute function. But Leon thought that had been turned off when he was later able to converse with another Caldurian, an underling, who’d asked him if he was hungry.

  “I’m here,” came her soft voice. She, too, must be right up against the bulkhead.

  “I’m sorry I got you into this. I’m going to get us out of here … I promise.”