Ricket (Star Watch Book 2)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Billy’s face twisted in an expression of undisguised anger. Without warning, he hit Jason with a roundhouse right, lifting him off his feet and knocking him down, onto his ass. His fist still raised, Billy loomed over Jason, looking ready to throw another punch. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen up … not only did you not cause any of those deaths … you probably saved many thousands of lives. Had an Allied vessel fired on the Caldurians, she, too, would have been destroyed. Hell, they might have let loose, destroying every ship in local space. You’re being touted as a fucking hero. Personally, I think that’s going a bit overboard, but what do I know? Listen to me, Jason: You’re going to get off your ass, go into your ready room, and notify Washington what’s happened here. Then you’re going to contact your father.”

  “My father?”

  “Yes … he may not be one hundred percent, but he’s still plenty effective. You’ll need his support up here.”

  Jason still wasn’t getting it.

  “Jason … Captain … you are now the ranking Allied Forces officer. You’re the man and you better get up, off your ass, and start acting like it.” Billy held out his hand and waited, unblinking, for Jason to reach up and take it.

  * * *

  Thirty-eight minutes later, Jason was back on the Assailant’s bridge. The crew’s eyes tracked his movements as he assumed his seat in the command chair. Perkins, standing next to Gordon and Stone at the comms station, and Orion, seated at tactical, all stared back at him.

  Earlier, Jason had done exactly what Billy, not so subtly, told him to do. He’d rushed into his ready room and called the White House. He spoke to Nan, relaying all the horrific events that had transpired, and watched her expression turn from professional concern to pure shock.

  “You’re telling me it’s gone … Jefferson Station has been obliterated? All those on board … dead?”

  Nan’s hands covered her mouth as she stared at Jason and slowly absorbed the impact of what he was telling her.

  “I know this is a blow … a terrible, terrible blow … but we’ll make our way through this tragedy, Nan.”

  “And the Minian … she’s … she’s gone too?”

  “Yes. She is gone.”

  He watched Nan as the news sank in. No longer looking straight into the camera, her eyes lost their focus. Slowly her head shook—the weight of the devastation closing in on her.

  “Hey, Nan … we … you … have some big decisions to make now. But we’ll get through it.”

  Her eyes locked on Jason’s. She was all business again, though fury raged in her eyes. “You don’t understand, Jason … the summit … it was being held up there, at Jefferson Station.”

  “What summit? You’re not making any sense.”

  “They’re all gone. Not only were all the ranking officers from fleet command there … all the U.S. commanders from Earth … generals and admirals … the Joint Chiefs, for God’s sake! They were in attendance for the annual Joint Chief’s summit. Usually, it’s held here, in Washington. I was scheduled to arrive there this morning too, but Mollie suddenly came down with the flu. She threw up on my dress on our way out the door. We were about to head out again when you called.”

  Jason was processing the fact he’d almost lost Nan and Mollie when she continued: “Jason, as Rear Admiral, clearly the most experienced officer in Allied space, you are now the Alliance’s ranking superior officer. You know, don’t you, the president of the United States doesn’t command the Allied forces?”

  Jason nodded. Billy had alluded to the same thing, but it hadn’t fully sunk in. “Yes … I do know that, Nan.”

  “Good. So let me ask you, Admiral Reynolds, are we at a state of war with the Caldurians? Is that what you’re informing me of?”

  Jason didn’t answer right away; but he didn’t need to ponder the question, or weigh the pros and cons. Thousands of men and women, citizens from other worlds throughout the Alliance, were brutally killed; no warning—no attempt made to work things out through negotiations. Of course they were at war. But was that even realistic, considering the Caldurians typically operated far out of reach … from some other realm within the vast multiverse?

  “We are at war, Nan. A war we cannot win without spacecraft like the Minian. We need that ship—we need her technology.” Jason then realized something more—Granger and Bristol, working on the Minian’s bridge, were now also gone—but, he hoped, still alive.

  “Nan … I’m going after them. Without that ship, we’re not only at the mercy of the Caldurians, we’re at the mercy of every uprising faction within the galaxy.”

  “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Heads of state within the Alliance need to be contacted. All other members, too, need to be told what has happened up here. My next call is to my father; he’ll manage things here, in space, in my absence.”

  “Stay in contact, Jason. We cannot afford to lose you … not now, with everything falling apart.”

  Jason called his father, who took fifteen minutes to get to the comms unit. When his face finally appeared, Jason noticed his father’s two- or three-days-old stubble had progressed into a full-on white beard. Streaks of black grease across his face made him look like a character from a movie.

  “What the hell’s so damn important? Can’t you simply leave a message, like normal people do? Don’t you know you can’t stop in the middle of a transmission rebuild?”

  “Dad … listen to me: I need to speak to you as admiral-on-duty right now, okay?”

  “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “The Caldurians … they’ve taken out Jefferson Station. They have the Minian.”

  “Jesus Christ … the summit … are you telling me that all the superior officers … Joint Chiefs—”

  “All gone, Dad. Listen, I need to get back to the bridge. Things are held together only by a thread up here. I need your help and I need it now.”

  “Of course. I need to shower first, but I can be in space within an hour.”

  “One more thing, Admiral. You’ll be reporting to me … not the other way around.”

  * * *

  Jason brought his attention back to the bridge. Orion, facing him, looked concerned.

  “Okay, Gunny … bring me up to speed.”

  “There are four hundred and twenty-one survivors living on the station. In addition to that saucer section, there are three separate, outer-ring segments, also containing people. Of those alive, eighty-nine are injured. Dira and her team phase-shifted directly onto the saucer and are currently attending to the most critical. She mentioned she tried to hail you but you didn’t answer.”

  “Been pretty busy, Gunny. What does she need?”

  “MediPods … she says a good portion of the injured will probably die without one.”

  There had been close to a dozen of them on Jefferson Station; Ricket had them especially configured for the station’s hospital, which was now, of course, gone. “There’s a handful on Earth, used for treating peovils. You’ll need to contact the Pentagon to track them down.”

  “I’m on it. What’s our next move, Cap?” she asked. The bridge crew stopped what they were doing to also look toward Jason.

  He looked at the forward display, at the blackness of space. “Any indication the Caldurians called up an interchange wormhole, or phase-shifted?”

  “No … in fact, they’re still out there. I sent a probe out after them. Figured you had your hands full. They’ve left this solar system but are still relatively close.”

  “Good. To answer your question, we’re going after them and we’re going right now.”

  “Comms … dampen our outgoing communications. Helm … ensure we’re still cloaked and get us on a matching course. Let’s catch them! And watch the heat of our drives. Stealth is the name of the game from here on out.”

  Chapter 16

  Open Space, 1.2 Billion Miles from Sol Solar System

  Parcical, MicroVault Terminal

 
__________________________

  Ricket stood within the confines of the Parcical’s MicroVault access terminal and felt a level of frustration surpassing anything he could remember. He felt useless and now millions … billions of lives would be irrevocably affected. Losing The Lilly, months earlier, was a devastating loss to the Alliance. And now this: the loss of the Minian! How would that affect the Allied worlds’ very survival? And what of the ship’s crew … his friends?

  Hobel, Norwell, and Ricket stood before the wrap-around display, viewing the section of the MicroVault that had been allocated for its latest addition, the Minian. She hovered in there, in the glaring whiteness of virtual storage, and didn’t look real. The once-huge spacecraft looked more like a child’s toy.

  Norwell was at the pedestal. His brow furrowed as his fingers moved quickly over the small virtual display. He looked up toward Hobel and said, “The ship made the transition into virtual storage unaffected.”

  Hobel’s strained expression relaxed somewhat, and Ricket saw him take in a deep breath and expel it noisily out. Apparently, the whole process was far more dangerous than he’d previously assumed.

  Norwell said, “There is a … an issue … Omni. There are two life forms present. On the vessel’s bridge.”

  “Human?”

  “One human and one Caldurian.”

  Ricket watched the exchange with interest. Granger had to be the Caldurian, since he was the Minian’s lone Caldurian crewmember. He wondered who the human was.

  “They will not survive much longer within that miniaturized virtual environment. One option is to simply let them expire … their bodies will not cause any issues,” Norwell explained.

  “No! They must be saved … I insist,” Ricket said adamantly.

  Norwell and Hobel looked down at Ricket, as if noticing him standing there for the first time.

  “I’m sorry, Ricket. That was insensitive of us,” Hobel said. The Omni looked to Norwell and nodded his head in a gesture that said please, take care of this.

  * * *

  Ricket had thrice visited the small Parcical’s Medical compartment, each time finding Granger and Bristol still unconscious on their gurneys. This time, though, they were awake and sitting up. A male medical tech was attending to a gash on Bristol’s forehead.

  “It’s fine! You checked it like two minutes ago. Back off, dude!” Bristol noticed Ricket standing in the doorway. “Ricket?” The smile on the young science officer’s face was genuine. He looked relieved. “What is going on … where the hell are we?”

  “I will explain everything … as best I can … soon.” Ricket turned his attention to Granger.

  The tall Caldurian sat on the gurney, his arms folded across his chest, with a bemused expression Ricket could not quite read. “And how are you, Granger?” he asked.

  “Well … I’m alive. For how long, only time will tell. The progressives aren’t exactly my allies. You know I didn’t leave under the best circumstances.”

  Ricket was somewhat aware of Granger’s past situation. Several years ago he and other crewmembers commandeered an advanced Caldurian vessel, the Minian, to flee from one multiverse realm in order to return to this one. He would, Ricket imagined, be held responsible for his past crimes, now that he was on board a Caldurian military vessel.

  Bristol reached up and pulled a tethered piece of equipment down for closer examination. “The tech here is ridiculous … years … decades more advanced than even that found on the Minian.”

  Ricket simply smiled.

  “How much of this thing is even real?” He tapped at the bread loaf-sized device with his fingertip.

  “You will find much here is virtual, Bristol. They’ve mastered the technology for providing tactile feel and simulated mass, even true weight characteristics, for what, in actuality, is nothing more than complex programming.”

  “Uh huh … you can feel it … like a tingle when you touch things like this … whatever the hell it is.” Bristol brought his attention back to Ricket. “Where’s the Minian?”

  The answer came from Hobel, who’d just entered the compartment: “The Minian is fine. She is stored within this vessel.”

  “Bullshit. That’s impossible.”

  Taken aback by Bristol’s outburst, Hobel looked to Ricket.

  “Bristol rarely filters what he is thinking,” Ricket said. “It may take a while for you to get used to him and his ways.”

  “I’m sitting right here, Ricket. If he has a problem with how I talk, fuck him. As far as I can tell, I was just abducted … right?” Bristol, now looking directly at Hobel, asked, “What do you want from me? Why am I here?”

  “I want nothing from you. I was content to let you die on board the Minian until Ricket insisted we bring you both here, on board the Parcical.”

  Hobel moved to the side of Granger’s gurney and said, “I wondered if you’d ever be apprehended … I doubted it, but I wondered just the same.”

  Ricket watched the exchange and noticed something interesting: There was a striking similarity between the two Caldurians. He found himself looking from one to the other—noticing the intricacies of their features—the same thinness at the bridge of their small noses; the same cleft at the center of their prominent chins. Some similarities were evident too beyond the merely physical: They wore similar expressions—the same downturn to the corners of their mouths and the same raising of their brows. Are they brothers? Cousins?

  “You were the brightest, had the most potential,” Hobel said. “Then you dishonored yourself. I figured you would return again to this realm, perhaps live among a faction of the originals.”

  Ricket didn’t see how that made any sense. There were two major factions of Caldurians—the originals and the progressives. The originals lived here, in this realm; they existed more like nomads now, traveling the galaxy in what were referred to as Crystal Cities. The originals did not share the same belief that crossing into an alternate multiverse realm was acceptable. To them, it was some sort of Caldurian sacrilege. The progressives, on the other hand, were far more technologically advanced, more willing to break free from the bindings of old myths and religious doctrines.

  “That’s ridiculous … I wouldn’t have been accepted, nor did I want to be accepted, by any of those remaining original colonies. Many died off, anyway. I witnessed the fate of that dwindling group of Caldurians, personally. No … instead, I made a home for myself among a diverse collection of people in this realm.”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  “So what will you do with me? Take me back? Execute me?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Granger. Yes, at some point you will need to make restitution, but you do know corporal punishment among our kind has been outlawed for hundreds of years. You know that.”

  “And you know, as well as I do, that as you travel within the multiverse you’re altering things that should not be changed.”

  Hobel waved off the comment, as if it were a trivial matter. “But in the end, Granger, you may have just saved our species from a devastating fate. We originally thought the Minian was destroyed by a phase-shift anomaly, in a time and dimension far removed from this one.”

  “So what? I’m sure you have a shitload of such ships,” Bristol butted in.

  Hobel ignored him. “We only discovered the Minian by accident, when we returned from searching for new sources of Palm-Stalk.”

  Ricket said, “Bristol, it’s not so much the Minian that they are interested in … it’s the Zip Farm, the individual Zip accelerators. On the Minian, one of the earlier Master Class ships, the technology for their accelerators originally came from Alurian, a planet in the Corian Nez constellation system.”

  “Yeah, I know all that … they’re like a hundred and thirty light-years from Earth. The Caldurians jacked the technology from them, and probably killed off all the Alurians in the process.”

  Hobel spun toward Bristol. “Caldurians do not arbitrarily kill off anyone!” But he cut his
response short and Ricket knew why: the recent destruction of Jefferson Station. If that wasn’t arbitrarily killing, what was? Hobel looked flustered. It was clear he was deeply affected by what happened there. It seemed also clear that Hobel probably wasn’t responsible for giving the order to attack. Ricket decided he would keep the information regarding the station’s demise from Bristol. At least for the time being—no sense agitating him further. It was evident he was already beginning to grate on Hobel’s nerves.

  “I understand from Ricket that you are quite intelligent, Bristol—that you understand alien technology nearly as well as he does. I already know Granger has a great mind. So the three of you will be tasked with finding a solution to our mutual problem. The doctor has cleared you both … you will start immediately.”

  “I’m not doing anything for you. Take me back to Jefferson Station,” Bristol retorted, touching his forehead and noticing the open gash was no longer there.

  Hobel said, “That’s impossible, Jefferson—”

  Ricket quickly cut Hobel off. “Bristol, please assist us. It is not for Hobel, or the Caldurians; … it is for any of us that utilize Alurian technology. Norwell, this ship’s science officer, suspects our own nano-devices may eventually be affected too, since their technology is based on original Alurian science.”

  Bristol raised his hands in exaggerated futility. “Really? Again! Didn’t you have something like that happen a few years ago … internal nanotech was a ticking time bomb, ready to take a dump in your heads?”

  “Yes and no … this is different,” Ricket told him. “Nothing is going to explode or self-destruct. But the functionality of these devices may be impaired. There’s no way to know what will happen. And the problem isn’t with the technology, per se—it’s the inability of the technology to adjust to any new spatial changes, to the nanoscale alterations that occur in time and space within the universe … or multiverse. Apparently, according to Norwell, the Minian’s Zip accelerators do adjust to spatial changes and continue to operate perfectly. It’s only the duplicated, or cloned, devices, such as the Zip accelerators on other ships, even this one, that do not seem to adjust adequately. This problem has caused Caldurian ships to lose the ability to travel between multiverse realms. So we must discover why this is so and provide the necessary fixes.”