Ricket (Star Watch Book 2)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “Wait. That’s within the asteroid belt, isn’t it?” Captain Perkins asked.

  “Hiding as close to it as possible, without actually being in the belt,” Jason said.

  “And where will the Parcical be?”

  “The Parcical has the most advanced cloaking capabilities. Even now, we’re over two light-years away from the rest of you that are lying in wait for Oz and his fleets. The Parcical will wait for the enemy fleet to pass by us, then we’ll come in, following right behind them.”

  Jason next observed a new logistical feed, appearing up on the display, as Orion pointed at four clusters of icons, each many millions of miles from one another. She drew in a sudden breath and said in a lowered voice, “That’s one hundred and fifty inbound warships total, Cap.”

  That large a number was unexpected—and Jason thought it a truly sobering sight. He continued, “As anticipated, we see Oz has multiple fleets in motion. Four of them are converging on the Lorchire 555 planetary cluster. They obviously know that the U.S. fleet is trying to hide there. And now we wait to see what they do—watch how they plan to trap the admiral’s fleet.”

  “So we just wait here?” Captain Grimes asked.

  Jason smiled. “Yes, we wait. No one moves. We will keep all communications, from this point on, down to the barest minimum. We cannot give Oz the slightest indication he is moving into our own trap. Is that understood?”

  The ship captains all said yes.

  “One more thing, Captain.” The final question came from Perkins again. “No offense, but three Caldurian captains are part of our command team … how do we know they’ll really fight with us; or worse, that they won’t warn the approaching Darion Cartel fleet?”

  It was Billy, on his own display feed, who answered the question: “We’ve carefully selected three Omnis—not only willing to fight for us, but motivated to do so. They also, literally, have guns pointed at their heads.”

  Jason had to swivel around backward in order to catch Billy’s feed. He had several days’ worth of stubble on his face and was chomping on the stub of an unlit cigar. He looked as tired as Jason had ever seen him.

  “If that answers everyone’s questions, wait for further orders. Good luck to each of you.”

  One by one most of the overhead feed segments closed down, allowing an open view of local space to take their place. All except Billy’s feed, which had moved around, now in front of the display.

  “You holding up, buddy?” Jason asked.

  “I’m fine. I wanted to talk to you one on one … any chance you can go to your ready room?”

  “Sure. Give me a minute.”

  Billy’s feed closed down.

  * * *

  Jason planted himself behind the desk in the Omni’s ready room, which was adjacent to the large conference room next door. Billy’s holographic feed was already waiting for him, hovering several inches off the desk.

  “You look like shit, Billy.”

  “Well, have you looked in a mirror lately?” Billy retorted.

  Jason had to laugh at that. “So what was it you needed to talk to me about in private?”

  “I saw that secondary logistical feed Gunny put up … one hundred and fifty warships inbound.”

  “Yeah, that took me by surprise too.”

  “How does something like that happen? When a potential adversary, like the Darion Cartel, can produce such an immense military buildup without the Alliance having a flipping clue about it?”

  Suddenly, Jason felt more tired than he could remember. He threw his hands up in mock resignation. “Geez … I don’t know, Billy. What do you want me to say? Space is big … it’s so fucking immense … there’s no way to keep tabs on everything that’s going on everywhere. But to answer your question, since the end of the Craing wars we basically stopped looking. We thought with the defeat of the Craing we’d finally changed minds. That beings on all planetary systems had finally learned their lesson—that war truly was … is hell, and that we could, perhaps for one damn minute, stop and take a breath; that we could all actually live peacefully together for a little while.”

  Billy, smiling now, said, “Well, I guess the folks—the ones you’re talking about—need to learn one more lesson.”

  Billy’s sudden fatalistic and humorous attitude was somewhat contagious. Jason returned the smile, then turned serious again. “You know, Billy, things right now aren’t looking so good.” Jason mentally swatted away thoughts of Dira—that most likely she wasn’t alive anymore. “I don’t care how advanced our Caldurian fleet of twelve warships are, when you have one hundred and fifty inbound enemy warships under the command of a strategic genius … well, you know we’re in deep trouble.”

  “We’ve been in worse situations,” Billy said. “Well, maybe not,” reassessing what he’d said. “Hell, I don’t know, you’ve always pulled a rabbit out of your ass … some kind of miracle that inevitably saves the day.”

  Again, thoughts of Dira tried to weasel their way into the forefront of his mind. Do I even care if we win anymore? Why even try? Before Jason could respond to Billy, he saw movement at the entranceway and Boomer, sleepy-eyed, wandered into the ready room, yawning, as she weaved her way over to him, and plopped down onto his knee. She leaned against him, her head against his shoulder.

  She said, “I’m hungry, Dad.”

  In a rare moment, Boomer was an eleven-year-old child again. Jason kissed the top of her head and with that answered his own question. “Why don’t you go and find where the kitchen is in these quarters and I’ll join you in a minute.”

  Nodding into his chest, she stood and, yawning again, padded off.

  Billy’s smile was there again and Jason could only shrug.

  “We need to take the offensive,” Jason said. “We may not be able to defeat Oz, come an all-out face-off in limitless space, so we’ll take the battle to him instead; fight him on a better-controlled playing field. I suspect with the head of the snake thus neutralized, the Darion Cartel fleet will lose much of its fight.”

  “I like it,” Billy said. “We’ll keep it small … maybe get the boys in the band back together again; you, me, Rizzo … along with that thousand-pound rhino?”

  Jason laughed at that, hesitating before answering. After all, he was commander of the entire operation—the Omni. It would be irresponsible of him to go off and lead a small assault team, while an incoming battle of such magnitude would take place elsewhere. “I’m in,” Jason said. “First, I’ll need to talk to the admiral and bring him up to speed. Go assemble a team of our best and be ready to leave within the hour.”

  The channel closed and Billy was gone. Jason sat back and began to formulate a plan.

  “Where we going?” Boomer asked, chewing a mouthful of something.

  Chapter 45

  Lorchire 555 Planetary Chain, Gracow CD1 System

  Parcical, Bridge

  __________________________

  Jason entered, for the first time, the Parcical’s flight bay. His initial impression was that it was similar to that on the Master Class vessels, but closer in scale to The Lilly’s. His eyes went to the cluster of two- and one-man fighters, somewhat disappointed that he didn’t see anything like the dark red fighter, the Pacesetter, he’d noticed back on the Quantum Lark. But there were three sleek, dark purple, two-man spacecraft that suddenly caught his attention. He’d have to investigate them further, when he had more time.

  Jason was listening to Orion talking in his ear—giving him an update on the position of the quickly approaching Darion Cartel fleet of four groupings.

  “You were right, Cap … it looks like they’re moving assets—readying to block the three access points where the U.S. fleet is in hiding within that planetary cluster.”

  So much for finding a hiding place hidden by high radiation levels. “Well, that alone tells us they have more advanced tech than we’d assumed. Any indication they are detecting the presence of the twelve Caldurian ships?”

 
“No, we’re invisible, as far as they’re concerned, Cap. They only see twenty light and heavy Craing cruisers and two dreadnaughts. That’s it.”

  Jason watched as the admiral’s newly arrived shuttle slowly settled down onto the flight bay’s deck and cut its engines. It reminded Jason of something he needed to deal with—and deal with right now.

  “Gunny … I want you to put out an announcement to all Alliance and U.S. fleet officers …”

  “Okay, Cap, what’s up?”

  “I’m updating my rank status.”

  “Making it official now, Admiral?” Orion asked, sounding like she already knew that old news was coming out.

  “No. It’s changed to the new designation of Omni.”

  “Omni?”

  “That’s right. Maybe I’ll explain why later, but for now … that’s what my title is.”

  “I think I get why. It may take me … any of us … a while to get used to it, though.”

  “No worries. It’s more a title designation for official encounters than something I expect to be called on board. Either way, I’m fine with what the crew calls me.”

  “Got it, Cap … um … Omni.”

  Jason cut the connection and approached the stern of the shuttle, where Admiral Reynolds now strode down the gangway. He had two fingers up to his ear, a NanoCom conversation in process. Noticing Jason he gave him a cursory wave, as Jason held up and waited.

  “What’s this Omni bullshit I’m listening to?”

  “Good to see you too, Admiral. To answer your question, do you feel comfortable calling me Admiral? Does that seem … appropriate to you?”

  “I don’t know. Actually, I don’t give two shits what I call you.”

  “Uh huh … well, it’s done; you can call me Omni Reynolds, or Jason, or hey you, but I think taking on an Admiral rank doesn’t work.”

  “That’s fine. Do you want to talk battle strategy or keep jabbering on about ranks all day?”

  There was something surprisingly comforting about his father’s no-nonsense attitude. Jason gestured forward and they headed for the nearest passageway out of the flight bay. “Welcome to the Parcical, Dad. This ship and the Minian, along with two of the newly-acquired Master Class warships, now comprise Star Watch.”

  His father stopped, looking irritated: “So you’ve just assigned yourself three more warships, Captain?”

  “Omni.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Yes. Star Watch was a brilliant idea … on your part, Dad. But it’s grown into a much bigger undertaking than you have any clue about. It requires far more presence than a lone warship can provide, policing the entirety of Allied space. If you think about it, you’ll realize what I’m saying makes sense.”

  “And the others? What about the other eight Caldurian warships?”

  “They’re now U.S. fleet assets,” Jason said, “and we now need to move it along.” The two men began hurrying toward a nearby DeckPort. “My question to you, Dad, is … are you coming back to duty, or returning to the scrapyard and the ’49 pickup?”

  “I told you, I’m now working on a Studebaker, a Commander convertible.” The admiral pursed his lips and then continued. “Look … I’m not fully one hundred percent yet, Jason.”

  “Understood. Only you know what you’re able to manage. Also remember, you’ve got help.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just that not everything sits on your shoulders anymore. You have a boss now,” Jason said, pointing a finger at himself: “Omni Reynolds.”

  When they had reached the Parcical’s bridge, the admiral looked around the ultra-modern, ultra-sophisticated surroundings and nodded. He glanced at Jason as he took a seat in the command chair. “Let’s see how this clusterfuck turns out … then I’ll let you decide.”

  “Listen up, everyone. Admiral Reynolds is temporarily in command of the Parcical.”

  Jason spent the next few moments introducing his father to those he didn’t know on the bridge. Orion and Bristol he already knew and he acknowledged them with a nod.

  “Don’t you have a mission to run off to?” the admiral asked.

  “That I do. You’re clear on what the plan is?”

  The admiral simply stared at Jason with a blank face.

  “Fine,” Jason said, and turned toward Orion. “I want constant updates on what’s happening with the fleets—both theirs and ours.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  As Jason hurried from the bridge, he whispered to Orion, “Watch him.”

  * * *

  Jason left the bridge and immediately phase-shifted directly to the flight bay. Billy, Rizzo, and Jackson, as well as Traveler, were in a tight huddle, talking in low tones. It wasn’t until he got closer that he saw Boomer standing there, too, on the other side of Traveler’s bulk.

  As Jason approached, they each reached for their SuitPac devices—initializing their battle suits. Billy turned to Jason and said, “Nice of you to join us, Omni Reynolds.”

  Traveler snorted, which Jason knew was one of the rhino-warrior’s ways of snickering. “You’ll get used to it,” Jason said. “Listen up … Orion’s just updated each of your HUDs with the phase-shift coordinates of Captain Oz’s command vessel. As far as he’s concerned, he’s closed any possible escape route for the U.S. fleet and he’s moving in for the kill.”

  “Why is he doing this?” Boomer asked.

  “It’s a long story, Boomer. Let’s leave it to say he and the Darion Cartel believe this part of space belongs to their people.”

  “Well … does it?”

  “No. At least, it hasn’t for a very long time. Over a thousand years. And even if the cartel did have some kind of claim here … the answer shouldn’t involve the mass murder of millions of beings on so many alien worlds across space. That’s what negotiations are for. The cartel never even attempted to discuss the matter.”

  Boomer seemed to understand and went quiet.

  Billy said, “So we’re at war with the cartel?”

  “They’ve taken out over twenty U.S. warships, killing thousands of our men and women. But are we officially at war? No, that would take a majority vote from within the Allied planets. Something they are already considering—against the Caldurians—for what transpired on Jefferson Station. The truth of the matter is, we can’t effectively engage in any war right now, with the recent mothballing of our fleet, let alone engage and simultaneously manage two war fronts. That’s why we need to take this battle directly to Oz—engage him personally—one on one. We need to nip his tyrannical striving in the bud … right now.”

  Jason hailed Orion: “You have the phase-shift coordinates for the command ship?”

  “I do. The problem was finding you a suitable location on board that gives you an element of surprise. I’m putting you in the engine room, at the opposite end of the vessel from the bridge.”

  “That’s fine. Go ahead and phase-shift us over now.”

  Jason turned to the others. “Lock and load.” After another full minute, Jason hailed Orion again. “What’s going on?”

  “Sorry, Cap … the cartel fleet just initiated their attack from three different fronts.”

  “That was expected. Listen, my father knows what to do; we discussed how this would play out. He should be bringing in our outlying ships now … closing the noose around Oz’s fleet any moment.”

  “Yes … he just gave the orders. I’m phase-shifting you over to the command ship now. Good luck.”

  Chapter 46

  Lorchire 555 Planetary Chain, Gracow CD1 System

  Parcical, Bridge

  __________________________

  Admiral Reynolds watched the logistical feed on the overhead display. A part of him felt guilty, leaving his fleet stuck there in the middle of a battle. Twenty U.S. warships that appeared, for the time being anyway, nothing more than captive bait: an offering up for imminent slaughter. But Jason’s plan was sound. Oz wouldn’t be expecting such an outlandish, borderline-irres
ponsible strategy.

  “Admiral, our five outlying Master Class ships have moved in, now holding inside a perimeter of two million miles,” Orion said.

  The admiral watched as five bright blue oblong icons moved into position. He also noted another five identical icons running along the outskirts of the asteroid belt that was woven in between the same planets where the U.S. fleet currently waited. The Parcical, also a bright blue icon, but more egg-shaped, was slowly making her way through one of three Darion Cartel fleet groups. Earlier, there were four. The plan was for the Parcical to invisibly make her way, staying within firing distance of Captain Oz’s own command vessel. Soon, Oz would be faced with attacks, coming from both within it, as well as from nearby open space. For Admiral Perry, this was far more than another space battle. A failure here and he would officially be done: too old, or too mentally incapacitated, to further command any fleet, even a fecal waste management barge, somewhere out in the far reaches of the galaxy.

  “We have visuals on the command ship, the Carrion, Admiral.”

  The admiral stood and stretched his back. The command ship looked like fairly new construction. Thin and tubular, she looked more like a seafaring vessel, similar to a gigantic submarine, than a spacecraft. Whereas most Caldurian vessels were rounded and had totally smooth hulls, this ship was all angles and protrusions, including numerous rail cannons, too many plasma guns to count, and varied types of what looked liked communications gear. The ship managed to look both old-fashioned and menacing at the same time. The admiral stared at the vessel, doing his best to temper his growing anger. Here was the ship … the captain … responsible for the deaths of so many. He thought of the small planetary system, located at the edge of Sector 22—tranquil and peace-loving Airigo 5. The admiral once spent weeks there, and had even briefly fallen in love with a native female. She would be dead now. His thoughts turned to General Jonathan Taft, an elderly emissary from Earth, and probably his closest friend. He too was dead at the hands of Captain Oz.