Ricket (Star Watch Book 2)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “See, Chief,” Jason said. “You’re already helping us. Okay … we head out in fifteen minutes. Looks like I need to have a little chat with our prisoners. Orion, ensure we’re all outfitted with SuitPacs, multi-guns, and enhancement shields.”

  Orion’s annoyance at the latter was quickly evident.

  “Oh … that’s right. Sorry, Gunny, I completely forgot you still haven’t been trained on the use of an enhancement shield …” Jason offered her a crooked smile.

  Jason was being hailed.

  “Go for Captain. What’s up, XO?”

  “Captain, just a heads up. Under the command of Admiral Reynolds, a U.S. fleet of forty-four warships has just emerged from an interchange wormhole near Manilaise in the next system over.”

  Jason was surprised his father had been able to pull together such an impressive force in so little time. “And Captain Oz and his fleet?”

  “They’re right there, as well, Captain.”

  “I want to be kept apprised of what transpires, XO. Captain Oz is as clever as they come, and he won’t go down easy.”

  “Yes, sir … and good luck, Captain.”

  Chapter 30

  Gracow CD1 System

  Dramicus 9, Planet Surface

  __________________________

  Oh no … this is not Alurian, Ricket concluded, within seconds of his arrival. First of all, gone was the expected black and scorched planet surface. Although there was supposedly an atmosphere on Alurian, somewhat breathable, the atmosphere here … was perfectly fine.

  Ricket assessed his current situation. He was buried from the waist down, and, as far as he could tell, still in one piece. He felt the coolness of the soil around his legs, but something was crawling around down there, tickling his upper left thigh.

  He scanned his surroundings. It was daytime under dark and cloudy skies. The terrain was rocky and the red soil was clay-like. In the far distance was a city, where spacecraft and small vessels could be seen, flying over the modern metropolis like tiny hovering insects. He didn’t need Beatrice to inform him he was on Dramicus 9—Alurian’s neighboring red planet. But how could that be? He’d configured the distance, set the projection coordinates himself. He should be on Alurian, not half buried on Dramicus 9, unless he’d missed something when programming the projector, but that was not likely. No, the Parcical, for some reason, had suddenly changed location. The pieces were coming together in his head … yes, the Parcical phase-shifted at the same exact time they were escaping through the MicroVault terminal. The Parcical was in orbit now, above Dramicus 9. It was crazy timing … whatever had happened was an anomaly and they’d ended up here, on Alurian.

  Ricket’s arms were uncomfortably pinned to his sides, and something was definitely moving around on his leg. He tried not to think about that. Where were the others, and the Minian and the SpaceRunner? They certainly weren’t in view from this present position.

  “Beatrice, please scan this planet for Hanna, Leon, Bristol, Granger and Traveler. Also, find both the Minian and the SpaceRunner.”

  Her response was immediate: “The two vessels are buried close by. Two hundred yards, directly below you … one next to the other.” Ricket’s heart sank. His internal sensors confirmed her assessment.

  “And the others? Are they alive?”

  “Yes … all alive … four are within five miles of your current position. They too are partially or completely buried, and are trying to extricate themselves.”

  “You said four others. Who is missing?”

  “Bristol. He is on the surface of Alurian, Ricket.”

  “Beatrice, what is the condition of Bristol?”

  “He is on the surface of Alurian and unconscious. Due to the marginal atmospheric characteristics of Alurian, he is not getting adequate levels of O2.”

  Ricket squirmed and twisted, but still could not free his arms. Using his NanoCom, he hailed Leon Pike.

  “Ricket?”

  “Yes, Leon, it is Ricket.”

  “Where the hell am I?” Leon asked. “I don’t see you … or anybody. Where’s Hanna?”

  “She is alive. She may be partially buried also. Since she does not have internal nano-devices, NanoCom, I cannot communicate with her. But Beatrice assures me her vital signs are strong. She is no more than a mile from your current location.”

  “This soil. It’s impossible to move in. My head’s the only damn thing above ground. I’m pinned,” Leon said.

  “Please stay calm. I will think of something.” Ricket hailed Traveler and, receiving no response, tried Granger, but nothing was forthcoming from him either. Beatrice reassured him that both were still alive, although their vital signs were starting to fluctuate.

  Something was burrowing into the top of his left boot. Again, Ricket tried to withdraw, first one arm, then the other from the tight grip of the red clay. Feeling as though he were caught in a vise, he thought, we could all die, stuck like this. Granger, Traveler and Bristol may be dying at this very moment. Think! Who could help them? There was no one … they were all buried, or partially buried, on this planet. No, think! Wait … there’s Trommy5!

  “Beatrice?”

  “Yes, Ricket?”

  “Can you re-establish communications with the Minian’s AI?”

  “Yes, although with your updated nano-devices you could have done so yourself.”

  Why didn’t I think of that? Perhaps, because he was finding it harder and harder to concentrate—something was chewing through the flesh on his left calf. “Beatrice, I think I’ll need your assistance. Please locate the mecher, Trommy5, and instruct him to acquire no less than five additional SuitPac devices, and then phase-shift to this planet’s surface—close to where I am situated. He’ll also need to phase-shift over to Alurian. To get Bristol.”

  Ricket waited, his eyes now brimming with tears, as the pain on his leg increased.

  “Ricket, I am sorry to inform you I am no longer detecting any life signs from Granger.”

  “Listen, Beatrice, have Trommy5 phase-shift to Granger’s location first. Tell him to extricate him quickly, and return him to the Minian, and into a MediPod in Medical without delay. Have him help Traveler as well.”

  Ricket tried to ignore the onslaught of fresh data now streaming into his mind. He knew with sudden clarity exactly which leg tendons were being severed; the specific muscle tissue being chewed on; the exact amount of blood now depleted; and, disturbingly, what the insect—a stubby, cockroach-like thing—looked like. These were all pictured in three-dimensional, ultra-high-definition resolution. The only good news was that millions upon millions of internal nanites, rerouted from their normal body-sustaining activities, were helping with the catastrophic assault being fostered on his leg. Internal dopamine levels were increasing to help with the pain, but only so much could be done to help him.

  * * *

  Ricket checked his internal clock. Nine full minutes had transpired.

  “Beatrice, please give me an update. Has Trommy5 found Granger yet?”

  “Yes, Ricket. Trommy5 has already placed both Granger and Traveler into MediPods. Traveler, with his more substantial girth, took a bit longer. Both are expected to recover.”

  Ricket felt greatly relieved. “And how are Leon and Hanna?”

  “Trommy5 is extricating them from the surface now. I will ask him to hurry. I am sorry I cannot do more for you, Ricket.”

  An agonizing three additional minutes passed before the telltale, bright white flash, indicating a phase-shift, occurred before him. Ricket had never been happier to see anyone in his entire life. Trommy5, enveloped within a battle suit, released its handholds on soil-encrusted Leon and Hanna. As they slid down to the ground, the robot hurried to Ricket’s side; he had begun to shake violently. The poisonous, highly toxic secretions spewing from the insect were saturating his wound.

  Ricket watched as Trommy5’s two metallic arms, like some kind of power tool on steroids, began digging a trench all around his trapped t
orso. In a blur of motion, the mecher scooped and shoveled the thick clay away from him. Once again, Ricket was impressed by Trommy5’s apparent transition—from a clumsy, typically off-balance robot—to a higher-functioning droid unit.

  Both Hanna and Leon watched with anticipation as Ricket’s arms came free. He raised them up—stretching them, one at a time, over his head. In seconds, his legs and feet were freed too, and Trommy5, mindful of Ricket’s injured leg, lifted him up and into his arms. Turning to Leon and Hanna, getting back to their feet, Trommy5 handed each a SuitPac device. The mecher waited for them to initialize their battle suits; then, nodding at them, in a flash phase-shifted all four directly into the Minian’s Medical.

  * * *

  Ricket, his eyes clenched shut in agonizing pain, felt his boot being pulled away from his left leg and foot. He opened his eyes and saw Hanna toss the bloodied boot away and hurry, first past Traveler in one expanded-sized MediPod, then past the next MediPod, where Granger lay, to the third available MediPod unit. Leon initiated the opening of the clamshell top and shuffled out of the way as Trommy5 lowered Ricket into the unit.

  Hanna reached inside and patted his shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Ricket. Just rest and get better.”

  Grimacing, his jaws clenched, Ricket nodded and tried to relax. Suddenly he remembered: “Bristol!”

  Hanna placed a hand on Ricket’s shoulder. “Stop worrying; he’s on Alurian now and we’re rescuing him.”

  Ricket watched as they hurried away and out of Medical. Once the clamshell lid closed he heard the familiar hum as the MediPod unit began its self-diagnostic check, followed by a patient evaluation process. Within seconds, the prescribed treatment was administered. The pain, now increasing, forced Ricket to lean forward and grimace down at his leg. His pant leg had been pushed up and he studied the ragged, open tear in his calf. Putrid green slime oozed from the wound and something else: First, two small, black antennae or feelers peeked out. Then in a frantic, manic-seeming motion, the bug was out and running unrestrained up his leg. The insect-thing had several sets of pinchers, which opened and closed at a rapid rate.

  By the time the creature had scurried upward to Ricket’s mid-section, he was feeling something rare: pure unadulterated hatred. He hated the little beast—no, he despised it. Instinctually, Ricket knew it was coming for his face—perhaps his eyes or even his mouth. Not taking his eyes off it for a second, he timed his next move to the millisecond. He grabbed it with his right hand and squeezed. He squeezed it with every bit of strength he had. Did I kill it? Then, he felt a white-hot pain in his hand—almost of the same intensity he’d experienced in his leg. He screamed in agony and in terror. But he continued to hold on, squeezing the alien demon until every part of his body rigidly tensed.

  It was still moving—Ricket felt the insect’s incompressible strength. What do I do? He cupped his right hand inside his left and, pressing both hands together, hoped to increase the amount of pressure that way. Still—the pain in his hand was only increasing.

  “Ricket … I will help you, if you allow me to.”

  It was Beatrice. She was speaking to him with a calm, almost soothing, voice.

  “God, yes … please help me, Beatrice!”

  And with that Ricket felt an unimaginable amount of power, perhaps a combination of adrenalin and other internal stimulants, rush through his veins and into the muscles of his upper arms; then into his biceps, his forearms and, finally, into his tightly gripped fists. He felt the insect snap—not once, but twice, then a third separate time. The pain suddenly ceased.

  Ricket opened his shaking hand and, studying his right palm, saw that the creature was fractured into three separate sections. “Please tell me it is dead, Beatrice.”

  “It is dead. I’ve instructed the MediPod control program to destroy its remains and sanitize the MediPod interior. Rest now, Ricket.”

  Chapter 31

  High Orbit Over Alurian, Gracow CD1 System

  Assailant Flight Bay, Unnamed Shuttle

  __________________________

  Jason watched as Lieutenant Grimes, sitting next to him in the pilot’s seat, went through her pre-flight checklist.

  “You piloted this shuttle?” she asked.

  “For about fifteen seconds before I phase-shifted her into open space.”

  “Quite a bit of this material is new to me,” she said, scrolling through the shuttle’s hovering 3D-display options before her. She glanced over to Jason. “Um … you’re staring at me, Captain.”

  Jason snapped out of it. “Sorry, Grimes … got lost in thought,” he lied. The truth was, he was thankful she was still among the living. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, the final casualty tally had come in from the Jefferson Station attack. Close to fifty thousand beings died at the hands of the Caldurians. Close to fifteen hundred, a good many of them Sharks and SEALs, were his own people, furloughed there until the Minian could be fully restored. Added to that, were the abductions of Ricket, Granger, Bristol, Hanna and Leon. And what had happened to Dira there. Oh god—his beautiful … amazing … Dira. No, if he let himself go there—thought about the magnitude of it all—the incredible loss he was feeling, there’d be no way he could continue on.

  “I’m just glad you’re still here, Lieutenant, that’s all. Don’t mind me.”

  “I fully understand, sir.”

  Jason turned in his seat and peered back into the cabin. The three Caldurian officers, dressed in dark blue uniforms, were seated in the front row—flanked by Billy, seated at one end of the row, and Rizzo at the other. The three Caldurians were unconscious. From the get-go, the Assailant’s AI had been directed to ensure that these three, as well as the other three Caldurian captains, weren’t able to communicate, thereby blocking all internal NanoCom signals back to the fleet. But once they left the Assailant, all bets would be off. The only sure-fire way to ensure that no warning messages were sent was to give each Caldurian a strong sedative.

  Behind them sat Sergeant Jackson, Gunny, Chief Horris, and Boomer in the second row, while the eight rows of seats behind them remained unoccupied. All weapons were packed away into the shuttle’s storage bins. The one thing they could not appear like, when undergoing scans, was a military attack team. From all appearances, their insubstantially small crew of only eight would be seen as simply transporting the shuttlecraft and officers back home to their fleet. A good faith gesture—as if to show there were no hard feelings about the recent massacre that occurred back in the Sol system. A sign of conciliation that they were at their mercy—ready to do whatever it took to keep them from attacking again.

  “I think I got this,” Grimes said, looking ready to go. “It’s pretty much the same as the Perilous, with only a few more bells and whistles added.” She got the propulsion system going and brought the shuttle up a foot or two off the deck. Something noisily scrunched topside, outside the vessel. Guess more flight bay lights shattered, Jason concluded silently.

  “Phase-shift?” Grimes asked.

  “Most definitely. We don’t want to bring attention to the Assailant’s cloaked coordinates here. Put us on the far other side of their fleet.”

  “You really think this is going to work?”

  “Sure … maybe. No … not really,” he replied.

  In a flash, she phase-shifted them eight hundred thousand miles into open space, to the far side of the Caldurian fleet.

  Almost immediately they were hailed. Jason had few illusions—they would know his exact identity, his internal nano-devices giving him away. Undoubtedly, they also knew he was the one responsible for the abduction of their three Caldurian captains earlier.

  “This is Captain Jason Reynolds of Star Watch—”

  Jason’s words were cut off. “Be quiet. This is Omni Stanton on the Quantum Lark … the Fortitude is now under our control. Make any attempt to redirect the shuttlecraft, or take any hostile action, and you will be destroyed.”

  “Hey … that’s fine, Omni. We are simply returning your
vessel, along with three of your officers,” Jason said. He looked over to Grimes and shrugged. She shook her head, giving him a pained expression. Apparently, he hadn’t sounded very convincing. At least now, though, they knew the name of the shuttle they were seated in. The other bit of good news came from the one giving out orders. If their luck held, they would be brought into his minimally crewed ship, Quantum Lark, versus into the Tall Spire—with her complement of five hundred combatants. Jason wasn’t sure what he’d do in that case.

  In a flash, the star-filled view of open space seen outside their forward observation window had been replaced by a familiar-looking Master Class flight bay. One glance at the hovering display over their cockpit controls showed them that they were indeed sitting within the Quantum Lark.

  Jason turned in his seat and faced the others. “You all know what to do. I want that ship … so let’s get busy.” On cue, battle suits were initialized. He caught a quick glimpse of Boomer’s smiling countenance, sitting behind him in the second row, before her helmet visor obscured much of her face.

  Fifteen or more Caldurian armed soldiers were presently surrounding the Fortitude, but it was the growing number of armed droids that made Jason do a double take. He’d seen their kind of droids before. Not so different from Teardrop and Dewdrop—but far more menacing-looking—they were ruggedized and glided over the deck with remarkable speed.

  “Shit! That’s a lot of droids,” Billy said.

  “I’m reading a total of thirty-two of them,” Orion said, placing her enhancement shield on her forearm.

  Boomer, shaking her head, repositioned it properly on Orion’s arm. “No, it’s worn like this.”

  Rizzo, peering out the side observation window, turned back to Jason. “Well, I’m ready for some payback, Cap … are we going to do this or what?”