Ricket (Star Watch Book 2)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “There he is—Ricket!”

  It was Mollie Reynolds, Captain Reynolds’ daughter, Boomer’s identical sister. Seated next to her was Nan Reynolds, the acting-president of the United States. Both were already on their feet and hurrying forward, looking thrilled to see him. The feeling was mutual. He opened his mouth to say hello, but words wouldn’t come, due to the large lump in his throat. The emotions of the moment hit him with surprising intensity—he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed them both.

  Mollie was the first to reach him and her arms wrapped around him before he could properly react.

  “That’s enough, Mollie,” Nan said with a smile, “let him breathe.” Mollie no sooner stepped away than Nan moved in, giving him an equally tight squeeze.

  “You look … different, Ricket,” Mollie said. Dressed in light blue leggings, pink sneakers, and an over-sized white T-shirt—her long hair parted on one side—she looked quite different from her warrior-like sister. Mollie maintained an innocence that Boomer had lost over the past year—battling aliens in the far outer reaches of space. No, Mollie was still a little girl in every sense of the word, and Ricket couldn’t be more pleased to see her and her mother again. Nan, to him, looked pretty, the same as always.

  “Thank you for the warm reception,” Ricket said.

  “We heard you were coming and we wanted to be here,” Nan said. “We’ve been coming every day to see … to see Dira.” The lightness in her voice was filled with trepidation.

  “How is she doing?” Ricket asked, not certain he wanted to hear her answer.

  Mollie and Nan exchanged glances. “Well … she’s alive. That’s about all I can say,” Nan responded.

  “Mom doesn’t let me see her,” Mollie said. “She says I should remember her as she was—vital and alive.”

  Ricket could see the weight of Dira’s dire situation pressing down on Nan’s shoulders. She clutched a wadded-up tissue in her fist, dabbing it frequently at the moist corners of her eyes.

  “Oh God … you’d think I’d be all cried out by now.”

  “Perhaps you can take me to her?” Ricket asked.

  Nan nodded. “Stay here, Mollie … I won’t be long.”

  Mollie nodded herself, and headed back to the couch where she picked up a small tablet and started to read.

  “She loves to read,” Nan said, gesturing toward the left-most passageway that exited the concourse.

  They made their way into the main hospital proper where nurses and doctors scurried about, moving into one patient’s room and out of others’.

  “Since the attack, this hospital, and two other space hospitals, have become crazy busy. Many patients have been ferried down to the planet’s surface.”

  Ricket did his best to keep up with Nan’s quick pace. Up ahead were four large observation windows that looked out to space beyond. As he got closer, he realized he was looking at Jefferson Station—or what was left of Jefferson Station. What once was the Alliance’s spectacular, ultra-modern space station, spanning many miles in circumference—was now little more than a clump of ragged metal—a small fraction of its previous size.

  “I know … shocking, huh? I find it hard to look at. I avert my eyes when I walk past,” Nan said. “It’s not far … this way.”

  Ricket tore his eyes away from the wreckage and followed Nan down a passageway, off to their right, then directly into a medium-sized compartment. A woman nurse was standing beside a MediPod, checking the display and making some kind of adjustment to its settings. She looked up as Nan and Ricket approached and, nodding, offered up a perfunctory smile. “The poor thing’s holding on.” She looked directly at Ricket. “You’ll need to prepare yourself for what you’re about to see. It’s quite disturbing the first time. I’ll leave you two alone. Call if you need anything.” The nurse gave Nan a pat on her arm as she left the compartment.

  Before Ricket could approach Dira, Nan reached out a hand to him. “Hey … I know Jason is hoping you’ll be able to perform some kind of miracle here. He’s not one to give up. But we’ve all come to terms with the inevitable. No less than ten doctors have examined her and the majority of those doctors are borderline outraged that we’ve kept her alive in her state. Dira deserves the dignity of a swift passing. Your presence here is only symbolic … you have to know that.”

  Ricket did not know how to respond to that. He was certain she was right. Nothing he had learned, through scanning and rescanning his expanded database of the most advanced Caldurian medical practices, had led him to believe he would be able to help save Dira.

  “I’m going to step out and sit with Mollie for a while.” Nan tapped her temple. “NanoCom me when you’re done.” She glanced in the direction of the MediPod, hesitated, and then left.

  Ricket moved closer to the MediPod. Nearly at eye-level, he looked into the small portal window sited on top of the clamshell. The nurse was right. He was not prepared for what he saw: Her face, with the exception of a few minor scrapes, was untouched and as beautiful as ever, although her violet skin had lost much of its color. She looked to be sleeping. Ricket leaned in closer, noticing Dira’s lips were moving ever so subtly. A paper sheet lay crumpled by her side—perhaps it had been placed on top of her? Had she awakened enough to pull it away? That should not be possible. Has she been suffering all this time?

  Her injuries were as described. She’d lost both legs and most of one arm. What Ricket hadn’t been told was that damage occurred to her torso as well. She’d been sewn-up, as any conventional doctor would do, unaware how a MediPod worked. If anything, that was a detriment and would have hindered her chance of recovery within the pod. Ricket next took it upon himself to visually examine every inch of her exposed body.

  “Beatrice … I will need your help.”

  “I understand, Ricket. But Dira’s injuries are beyond the capabilities of medical, even Caldurian medical, practices.”

  Ricket slowly nodded; his heart heavy, he felt as if it were going to literally break in two. He was startled when two technicians entered the compartment, jockeying a large hover-cart into the suddenly confined space. As the two techs unloaded a newer, far more advanced MediPod—taken from the Parcical—Ricket made sure all the ancillary cables and support equipment were there also. Satisfied, it took about ten minutes for Ricket and the techs to remove the protective packing material from the new MediPod and position it next to the older pod where Dira, still unconscious, resided. Then Ricket went to work connecting all the ancillary cables, and getting the device properly configured via the newly attached display terminal. All the while, his mind continued to work the problem. He knew why the older MediPod had failed to repair Dira’s injuries—failed to start the regeneration process of her two missing legs and one arm along with her various internal torso injuries. MediPod computers operate under the influence of an algorithm—an algorithm that utilizes a set baseline. Dira’s injuries, obviously extreme, exceeded the acceptable baseline parameters. From first hand experience, Ricket knew the capabilities of both MediPod devices. Sure, the newly designed MediPod was capable of cramming even more and higher tech within someone’s cranium, such as his own. But the only way to make the determination if the new pod’s algorithm or baseline was more accepting, even marginally, for these kinds of catastrophic injuries … well the only way was to try it and see. Things were probably that close … that marginal. He needed to get Dira out of the older pod and into the newer one right away.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Ricket turned to see a human—a male with a bald head and thick glasses—standing in the doorway. By the way he was dressed—a white coat and a stethoscope draped around his neck—he was clearly a doctor.

  “I am in the process of assembling this MediPod device.”

  “No … you’re not. I am Dr. Carl Lowell, the hospital’s chief of surgery, and no further extraordinary life-saving measures are to be taken for this patient. I do appreciate the new hardware, though. It will undoub
tedly save many lives. Unfortunately, not Dira’s. She has suffered far too many indignities here. It is time to let her go.”

  Ricket looked back to Dira, cocooned within the MediPod, then over to the entrance into the room. He saw Nan standing behind the doctor. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

  Chapter 43

  High Orbit Over Alurian, Gracow CD1 System

  Parcical, Bridge

  __________________________

  Things were moving at a far slower rate than Jason wanted. Readying a fleet of alien warships for battle, with green command personnel, had been a taxing undertaking. Still, going on thirty-six hours without sleep, he made his way to the Omni’s quarters on Deck 5—stumbling onto, he surmised, Omni Hobel’s former bed. Four hours later he was awakened by a NanoCom hail from his father.

  “Dad … are you all right? What is happening?”

  “We’ve got him on the run, Jason.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When we came out of the interchange wormhole … when was that? Yesterday? Anyway, it didn’t take long for the attacks to start happening. I guess you’d call them guerrilla tactics. Our fleet of forty-four Craing light and heavy cruisers, plus two dreadnaughts, was attacked. Not all at once, but along our periphery—one here, then one there. All very chicken-shit. You know, clandestine bullshit. We would no sooner divert our assets to one location than they’d come at us from someplace else with another attack. It took us a while to wise up to their strategy.”

  “Is the fleet still viable … still intact?”

  “We’re down to twenty ships, to their eighteen.”

  “That’s half the fleet, Dad!”

  “You think I don’t know that? I’ve never come up against this kind of … cunning before!”

  “Where are you now? What’s the situation?”

  “He—Captain Oz and his fleet—is on the run and we’re in pursuit. I’m going to get that bastard this time and when I do—”

  Jason cut him off mid-sentence: “Stop! It’s a trap, Dad. It’s the same damn trap I fell for at the CAP-RIM star system. He’s playing you.”

  Jason heard his father talking to someone else, probably the helm commander on his bridge. When he returned, he sounded angry, as if Jason had taken something important away from him—revenge.

  “Will you listen to me, Dad … Admiral? For a few minutes?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We can no longer play his game. He will finish you off. I guarantee it. Whether it’s beyond the next cluster of planets, or in an asteroid field. He’ll get you, and what’s left of the U.S. fleet, right where he wants you. Then it’s lights-out time.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “We beat him at his own game.”

  “I’m listening,” the admiral said, his interest seemingly piqued.

  “Hold on a quick second, Dad.” Jason was out of bed and moving through the Omni’s quarters. He moved down the passageway between the other bedrooms and stopped at seeing an open door. Looking in, he saw Boomer sprawled across a bed, sleeping. He heard the same little snoring sounds he’d heard a thousand times before. He partially closed her door and continued on, now entering the living room area. He noticed the magnificent observation window, which mirrored the one in the ready room conference area, on the opposite side of the ship. He’d been so out of it earlier, he hadn’t noticed how nicely appointed these Omni’s quarters actually were. He exited the quarters and headed toward the nearest DeckPort.

  Jason continued speaking: “Dad … you need to slow your speed down and then, as if you’ve given up the chase, head the fleet in the opposite direction. Let Oz think you’ve come to your senses and you’re now running scared.”

  “To what end, Jason? What difference does it make if we fight him here, or twenty light-years from here?”

  “Because I’ve got the Caldurian fleet.”

  The dead air between Jason and his father lasted a full five seconds.

  “You have the fleet? All twelve Master Class warships?”

  “Well, it’s down to ten now, but yes … and the Minian too. As well as another warship, called the Parcical. But we can’t get cocky. Oz nearly defeated the Minian when I engaged him earlier, remember? And he may have significantly more assets on hand than any of us think. I’m betting he does. He’s probably drawing you into a trap. Hell, he could possess two to three times as many ships as you think he has. As I said, if we’re going to defeat him, we need to be smart and beat him at his own game.”

  “Where do you want me to take the fleet? I’ve already given the order to hold up.”

  “Good. Let me work out first our own reception party for Oz. Get moving away from him … and don’t let him get in front of you or flank your assets. You’ll need patrols—outer periphery scout ships—”

  “I still know how to command, Captain,” his father barked.

  As Jason entered the Parcical’s bridge, he was tempted to remind his father to start calling him Admiral, but he let it go. “We’ll be in touch, Dad. Orion will reach out to you soon.” He cut the connection.

  He was happy to see the bridge nearly fully manned. Orion was seated at the tactical station, and Bristol was off to the left, at the engineering console. One of the Gordon brothers sat at the forward right-hand comms station. Also, five Caldurian crewmembers, manning various other boards, were there as well. Jason gave Gunny a wary glance.

  “We’re keeping an eye on them. But we need their help, Cap.”

  Jason didn’t reply to that. He turned forward, unsure at first who was stationed at the helm station, directly in front of him. A tall female, sporting a crew cut, Army Ranger Sergeant Gail Stone, turned quickly in her seat, her long platinum bangs, swinging like a silky curtain, drooped across her eyes.

  “Good evening, Captain.”

  “Evening, Sergeant. You’re qualified for the helm station?”

  “Yes, sir … fully qualified on all bridge posts.”

  Jason, catching Orion nod her head as he moved to the command chair, said, “Fine. Welcome to the bridge.”

  Orion stood and moved closer to him, sitting down in the closest secondary command chair. “Here’s where we’re at: All ten … eleven, counting the Minian, have crews and commanders.”

  “What about the Scorpio and the Sagittarius? We hadn’t assigned anyone to them yet.”

  “We’re keeping their original Caldurian commanders in place, instead, as well as on the Libra.”

  “The Libra? Isn’t that Pike’s assignment?”

  “He hasn’t returned; apparently he got held up, back in the Sol system. I’ve been in contact with him … there were, um, some negative issues—”

  Jason’s heart missed a beat. He knew where this was going and didn’t want to get into it. “Fine, he can catch up to us when he arrives in this system. So we’re a go … ready to move out?”

  “Yes … as best as can be expected, considering how green our commanders are, and our own inexperience with some of these ships’ newer technical advances.”

  Jason thought about Ricket. It sure would be advantageous to have him back on board. Undoubtedly, he was with Leon and Hanna and he’d see him when the SpaceRunner returned. He gestured toward the forward part of the wrap-around display. “Can you bring up a logistical feed of that system? We need to stage a welcoming party for Captain Oz and his friends.”

  Chapter 44

  Lorchire 555 Planetary Chain, Gracow CD1 System

  Parcical, Bridge

  __________________________

  Jason had found what he was looking for: a planetary system comprised of twenty-three large worlds. There was also an asteroid belt, which snaked through the long chain of uninhabitable planets. Here, high levels of radiation streamed from three nearby stars, which would disrupt long- and short-range sensors. It seemed a perfect place to hide from a determined adversary in hot pursuit.

  With spatial coordinates provided, Jason had watched as the U.S. fleet moved
into the system, where he headed for the middle of the planetary cluster. Once there, they broke into four groups. There the fleet currently sat in hiding on the far sides of the planets.

  Separate feeds from his new fleet commanders were currently on view up on the wrap-around display. So far, they’d asked a lot of questions, some Jason couldn’t answer.

  “Captain, how do we know which direction Oz’s fleet will approach us from?” Captain Grimes asked.

  “We don’t. We need to strategize as he would, but he’ll definitely want to trap the admiral’s U.S. fleet—make it impossible for his ships to escape.”

  Orion joined Jason at his side and said, “Let’s look at the logistical feed. The admiral’s twenty ships will be moving into position here, among those planets in the middle of the cluster. There are only three ways in or out of here: the way they entered this planetary cluster; over there, on the opposite side; or here, by skirting this closest star.”

  Captain Granger asked, “What about right there, between those two moons?”

  “No, that’s inaccessible, due to that asteroid belt. He’d lose half his assets moving through that mess of rock,” Jason said.

  “Captain, why are you positioning so much of our fleet so far out? Can’t we tighten up some, bring those five vessels in closer somewhat?”

  “Know that our Master Class vessels will be totally undetectable to Oz. With that said, they are huge ships and can be visually spotted … although even that is unlikely. We’ve got five warships eight hundred million miles out, in a circle around the planet cluster. Once the enemy fleet, or multiple fleets, move into position, we can tighten things up a little and bring those five vessels closer in somewhat.”

  “The other five Master Class ships will be placed here, here, and here,” Orion added.