“Captain … Commander Brakken,” Seaman Gordon announced apologetically.
“On screen.”
Standing now, Jason adjusted his shoulders forward and waited for the feed. Commander Brakken appeared, an expansive bridge behind him, and nodded his head, acknowledging Jason. They sure make these Sahhrain bastards big, Jason thought to himself. He guessed that Brakken was pushing seven feet tall. Not a bad-looking alien, compared to the many others he’d talked to via this same manner over the years. He looked fit—muscular—beneath his uniform. And quite confident.
“Captain Reynolds, my name is—”
“I know who you are. You and your apparent predecessor are responsible for the mass murder of thousands … both here in Dacci space and in the massacre down on Harpaign.”
“War is an ugly business, Captain.”
Jason said, “I assure you that will become even more apparent to you … over time. Do you think you’re the first? Ask the Craing, or the Tashi, or the Juto, or the Pharlom, or any of the others who’ve gone up against the Alliance in recent years. The result has been the same … defeat and an unnecessary loss of life.”
“Our forces are far greater than anything you have come up against in recent years, Captain. Your forces are, by a significant degree, outmatched. Let’s not dispute the obvious. From the Sahhrain’s point of view, this war was inevitable. Our place in the universe hierarchy will be forever changed from this day forward.”
Jason couldn’t argue with what he was hearing. “So what do you want, Commander Brakken?”
“My fleet will be moving on within the hour. The war has begun … but this particular battle has run its course. We have both sustained great losses. You have fought well … we expected nothing less. But using those vile, insect-like droids, there is no honor in fostering such a thing.”
Again, Jason could not argue with his words. “War is an ugly business—your words, Commander, not mine.”
Brakken seemed to be considering Jason’s statement. Amusement crossed his face and when he spoke again, there was an almost friendly tone to his voice. “Are you an honorable human?”
“I suppose I am. But you’ll have to take my word on that.”
“That is exactly what I intend to do. You see, I, too, am honorable. I pride myself on being so.”
Jason stared back at the Sahhrain officer and waited.
“I request that you refrain using the swarming droids from this point forward.”
“Why would I stop using something so obviously effective? Ten of your Vastma-class warships are floundering in space right now. Ten more will be in the same condition shortly.” Jason couldn’t resist making the bluff, though if the Parcical’s drives came back online soon, it could very well be true.
“Assure me, give me your word … as a fellow officer who is honorable … that use of that heinous weapon will cease right here and now, and I will return one of your Caldurian vessels … say, the vessel named the Minian.”
Jason tried to hide his surprise. He hadn’t thought the Sahhrain would ever negotiate over such a prized possession. Undoubtedly, Brakken’s boarding parties had had little success comprehending the Caldurian ship’s highly technical characteristics. Without someone like Granger, Bristol, or Ricket on board they’d be continuously confounded by both the Minian’s and the Sagittarius’s advanced technology. Jason was fairly certain that the captured crewmembers, on either vessel, wouldn’t provide willing assistance to their captors. So, while the Sahhrain would spend weeks, if not months, figuring out how to hack those incredible warships, more and more of their very own ships would become infested with swarm droids. Jason understood Brakken’s predicament.
“Both vessels,” Jason said.
Brakken’s friendly demeanor hardened. “No. That is not an option. You should take the offer while it’s available. Once retracted …” His words trailed off.
Bristol, now at Jason’s side, leaned in and spoke loud enough so that Brakken would have no problem overhearing his words too. “Our drives are back online, Captain. And one more thing … I’ve isolated this Brakken character’s Vastma-class ship. Shall I especially target the next infestation? Perhaps double the number of swarm droids?”
It took all of Jason’s willpower to keep the smile from his lips. He gave Bristol a sideways glance and wondered if the drives were indeed up and running? Then he felt a faint vibration beneath his feet. Bristol was not bluffing.
Jason brought his attention back to Brakken. “And this is … your last chance. Both ships, or prepare to find an extremely good hiding place. And, let me warn you, hiding under your bed won’t cut it. They’ll find you. They’ll drive those ungodly big stingers into your body and, within seconds, your internal organs will become liquefied mush. It’s not a pretty way to die, for an officer … or for anyone.”
Brakken, reluctantly, nodded his head. “Then you agree to the terms? No more of those vile droids?”
Jason also nodded. “Agreed.” But almost immediately Jason regretted his decision. As much as he detested their use, the swarm droids had saved their lives.
“We will meet again in battle, Captain Reynolds. I look forward to watching your entire fleet’s destruction, plus the destruction of your home world. Think of those last words as my parting gift to you: a forewarning that the Sol System is our next destination. Amass your fleets—do what you can to fortify your system’s defenses—and it still will not be enough.”
The display feed faded to black.
“Cap. The Sahhrain are moving off,” Orion said.
“And the Minian and the Sagittarius, Gunny?”
“They’re not moving.”
“Captain … I have an incoming hail from Captain Perkins on the Minian, sir.”
Relieved, Jason responded, “I’ll speak to Captain Perkins in my ready room.”
Chapter 2
Dacci Star System
Open Space
__________________________
“We’ve got an incoming … something … projectile … maybe,” Orion said.
“I see it,” Jason said, glancing at the miniscule object moving across the display—it was approaching the Parcical at a slow but steady rate of speed.
“I believe it’s already been targeted by plasma fire … not sure whose,” she said. “Not detecting any ordnances … could be a simple droid.”
“I don’t know. Probably best to blow it into space dust, Gunny.”
Distracted, Jason said, “Damn it, Billy … that thing reeks. Get rid of it.”
“I put it out before coming in here.”
“Well, it’s still smoldering and I don’t want to smell it for the next three hours.”
Billy got up and, with some reluctance, opened the closest refuse panel and discarded his half-smoked stogy. “Let me take a team down to the planet … we’ll find them,” Billy said.
A melodic tone, accompanied by Sergeant Major Gail Stone’s face, appeared on the ready room’s virtual display. “Captain, the last of the fleet is entering the interchange wormhole. What do you want me to do, sir?”
“Hold our position. I’ve instructed Captain Perkins to relay our situation to Liberty Station Command.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Jason continued to stare at the blank display, while rubbing the stubble on his chin.
“We have some time … hell, maybe even a few weeks, before the Sahhrain get anywhere near the Sol System.”
Jason’s eyes turned toward his friend. “Those Vastma-class ships are fast at sub-light. I imagine their FTL capabilities are equally impressive. If we have a week, we’ll be lucky.”
“And you want to be back in the Sol System to prepare for their arrival. I get it, Cap, you’re torn. But you also want to continue searching for the girls. So you go. Let me stay. A shuttle … a team of Sharks … and we will find them. I’ll stop them.”
Jason considered Billy’s suggestion and knew it was a solid idea. Billy could stay in the Dacci
System and look for them, whereas his fatherly love for Mollie and Boomer mustn’t trump the welfare and safety of Earth, not to mention all the rest of Allied space.
Following a second melodic tone, another face appeared on his display. It was Sergeant Stimley, from the flight bay. In his typical southern drawl, he said, “Captain … sorry to disturb. I think there’s something you’ll want to see down here.”
“Can it wait, Sergeant?”
“I suppose, sir. It’s just that … there’s a beat-to-shit droid here. It just suddenly appeared, then toppled over.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. As long as it doesn’t look like a giant mosquito—”
“Oh, no, it’s not one of them, Captain. It’s one of the girls’ droids, I’m thinking. Teardrop or Dewdrop … I can’t tell the difference, honestly.”
“Don’t touch it! I’m on my way.”
* * *
Jason and Billy hurried into the Parcical’s flight bay. Sergeant Stimley kept the area impeccably clean and well organized. Groups of manned fighters, as well as numerous unmanned drone fighters, were stowed in their allocated slots. Three large shuttles were lined up in a row, off to the left of them. Since the flight bay spanned the width of the vessel, a typical Caldurian design aspect, open space could be seen from both directions, behind the soft-blue glow of the large shielded bay openings.
“They’re over there,” Billy said, jogging toward a cluster of men standing on the far side of the bay, directly across from them.
Several flight bay crewmen stepped away as Billy and Jason approached. Only Sergeant Stimley stayed, kneeling by the droid’s side. Jason’s first thought was: How on earth did Stimley recognize the droid? Only after studying it for several moments did he recognize the thing himself. With its small head, and pyramid-shaped, legless torso, the sergeant was right—it definitely was one of the girls’ droids. Since Dewdrop was currently being repaired, after receiving a terrible beating from his brother Brian, this one had to be Teardrop—Mollie’s droid.
“Thing’s been put through the ringer,” Billy said.
Sergeant Stimley said, “Plasma fire. No less than twenty strikes.” He turned the droid over so that its front side now faced up. “That crater right there would have done some serious damage, I imagine.”
“The one who really needs to be here …” Jason’s next words were unnecessary as Ricket was suddenly there too, kneeling beside the sergeant. Jason couldn’t count the times this phenomenon, Ricket suddenly appearing right when Jason was about to summon him, took place.
As if cradling a young child, Ricket lifted the droid into his arms and, careful to support its drooping head, placed one arm higher up beneath the droid’s limp body. Ricket rose to his feet, obviously struggling with Teardrop’s not insignificant weight.
“Um … you want some help with that, Ricket?” Billy asked.
“No. No, thank you, Billy. I need to get this droid to my lab.”
* * *
Jason and Billy had been shooed from Ricket’s lab twenty minutes earlier. Billy now stood, his back against the passageway bulkhead, as Jason paced back and forth—like an expectant father waiting outside a hospital maternity ward.
The virtual hatch to the lab opened and Ricket waved the two in. “Teardrop has undergone significant damage. It really is quite amazing that its directional proximity functionality was still operational.”
“Have you determined why it’s here?” Jason asked, leaning over the workbench to examine a now somewhat recognizable droid. Some of the blackened scorch marks had been cleaned away and its small head was moving—turning in Jason’s direction.
“Yes, Captain … it is here apparently for you. Teardrop has a recently stored holo-message. I apologize, I watched a portion of it inadvertently.”
Suddenly the droid lifted itself off the workbench and Ricket quickly reached over, pulling several leads from an open diaphragm panel, which exposed the droid’s internal circuitry. The droid used one of its clawed, articulating arms to close the panel.
“Captain Reynolds, may I play a holo-message for you? It is from your daughter.”
Jason, after exchanging a quick glance with Billy, asked, “Where is she? Is she all right? Are Mollie and Boomer together?”
Teardrop seemed to process Jason’s bombardment of questions with difficulty.
“The droid is incapable of processing so much information at once, Captain,” Ricket said.
“Just play the message, Teardrop,” Jason said, his patience running thin.
Teardrop hesitated a moment before a projected, three-dimensional hologram feed appeared in the middle of the compartment. Jason took in a quick breath and held it. He was looking at Boomer and Mollie, sitting next to each other. Boomer was wearing a bloodstained garment … perhaps a Shadick? Mollie was wearing a battle suit, with the helmet retracted. Mollie signaled, her twirling finger pointing upward, and the feed’s image began to move. Apparently the droid had started to turn around, showing the local surroundings. Immediately, Jason saw Rizzo, who was standing with a multi-gun in his hands, give a nod and make a thumbs-up gesture. The surroundings there were bleak, with dark clouds and almost continuous lightning bolts flashing in the background. Leon stood farther back, the Stellar parked in the distance. The scene continued to spin and Hanna was the next to come into view, also holding a multi-gun, now trained on three elderly Blues dressed in robes. Prisoners. The last two to come into view were a tall Blues male—called Drom, Jason knew—and a second male, who was clearly a Sahhrain. Dressed in black, he wore a breastplate and an enhancement shield on his forearm. Finally, the feed turned back and pointed at the girls. Boomer spoke first.
“Dad … I hope you get this message. I miss you. You have no idea how much I miss you … and Mom and—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, just get to the message, already!” Mollie said, looking exasperated.
“As you can see we’re both fine. We’ve completed the … quest … for the wons, the effigies, and we’ve found them all. Well, actually … one of them I had to take from Lord Zintar Shakrim, here on Almand-CM5.” Boomer’s eyes flashed over to the young Sahhrain warrior in black, then back again. “Mollie and I killed him. Actually, it was more Mollie than me. But more about that when we see you again. I know you’re not going to like what I’m going to say next.”
Mollie leaned forward and began to speak: “We’re taking a detour, Dad. If you look behind us … Teardrop, show the archway.”
The view changed as Teardrop allowed for a wide-angle perspective. Billy whistled.
“It’s made of Glist, Captain. Most certainly, thousands of years old,” Ricket added.
But Jason’s eyes were on the hovering, equally ancient-looking tunnel, midway within the lower structure of the archway.
Mollie continued, “Not so long ago there was a ginormous statue here. It looked just like the little effigies. We used the wons like keys, and the enormous statue went away and this tunnel took its place. We’re sure this tunnel leads to Rom Dasticon. It was going to be his bridge to come here … to this realm.”
“We’re not going to let him do that,” Boomer interjected. “I know you’re not going to like this, Dad … but we’ve decided to stop this guy once and for all. He can’t be allowed to enter our universe. I believe that I—no, that we are supposed to do this. We have to stop him and we’re going to do just that. All of us here are going. We’re taking the Stellar and we’ll try not to damage her any more than we have already.”
A tremendously bright flash of lightning suddenly filled the feed. Distortion artifacts made the video feed more difficult to see, and the sound was clipped.
“We have to go now. It might be a while … I don’t know for certain … try not to worry.”
The projected, three-dimensional hologram feed ended and Ricket’s lab compartment became silent.
Jason let out a long breath, continuing to gaze at the silent feed where his two daughters were only m
oments before. “Billy … get down there … you need to stop them. Ricket … play it for me again.”
Chapter 3
Dacci Star System
Open Space
__________________________
Jason stood off to the side, watching as Billy supervised the stowing of his Shark team’s equipment into the Storm, one of the Parcical’s three shuttles. Multi-guns, as well as three ShadowDroids, a recent invention of Ricket’s, plus enough provisions to last several weeks, if not longer, on the upcoming mission. There were seven Sharks—the Alliance military force made up of a compilation of Navy SEALs, Army Rangers, and Marines—the best of the best combat fighters to be found anywhere on Earth, or in the Sol System … perhaps in the entire sector.
The combatants headed up the Storm’s gangway and took their seats. Jason was more than a little envious, feeling it should be him leading the mission, not Billy.
One of the Parcical’s fighter pilots named Polly hurried past Jason and gave him a quick salute. “Captain.”
“Lieutenant.”
She hurried up the gangway.
“You have a pilot aboard, so looks like you’re ready to head out.”
“Not quite yet … got one more coming who volunteered to come along. Actually … he insisted.” Billy, standing with his hands on hips, yelled into the back of the shuttle, “No, leave those two seats open!”
Jason heard the loud snorts and felt the thunderous footfalls coming up behind. He turned to see Traveler, the seven-foot-tall rhino-warrior, his leather breastplate and heavy hammer hanging from a leather thong on his belt.
He came to a halt in front of Jason. “Captain … I didn’t ask you if it was—”
“Permission granted,” Jason said, giving Billy a quick sideways glance in the process. “Bring the girls back, Traveler. That’s all I ask.”
“Count on it,” he said, and then he was off, heading up the gangway.
“I want constant updates. More than usual, you understand?” Jason asked, his expression as serious as a heart attack. “And no heroics, Billy … just bring them back.”
Glory for Sea and Space (Star Watch Book 4) Page 2