“It is Reechet … and no, not a robot … I am an organic being, I believe not so different from yourselves. Significant portions of my mind have been scrubbed … erased. I do not know why I am here. Why I have come to this planet. What I do know … is that I originate from a distant world, called Craing. I believe I am a Craing. Right now I would like to determine the condition of the Caldurian vessel. I see you have extended the gangway.”
“Just stay where you are … for the time being,” Perry ordered.
“May I ask each of you your designations … your names? How should I address you?”
“I’m Captain Perry Reynolds; this is my father … you can call him Gus.”
Gus smiled down at Ricket and nodded.
“I am in your debt, Captain Reynolds; also in yours, Gus. Hundreds of times I awoke over the years only to find my dire situation unchanged. I feared living an eternity here, buried beneath the surface of your planet, unable to see; unable to move.”
“That must have been terrible for you, um … Ricket,” Gus said, commiserating.
“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, or anything, but are you safe for us to be around?” Perry asked. “We won’t become infected with an alien virus, or something fatal, will we?”
Ricket, attempting to rise to his feet—his movements somewhat jerky, as if learning to stand for the first time ever—said, “It is perfectly safe for you to stand close to me. I do not carry any caustic, or infectious organisms on or inside my body harmful to humans.” Now, somewhat steadier on his feet, he jerkily walked toward the spacecraft’s gangways.
“So, you don’t know why you came here in the first place?” Perry asked.
Ricket stopped and studied Perry, as if thinking over his question. “I believe … but I’m not certain … that I was attempting to hide this vessel. I remember it had been damaged. We needed to bring it to a location where the Craing’s sensors would not detect it. It was imperative that the Craing be kept away from this advanced technology. My memory … has been scrubbed … I’m unsure of most details … I’m sorry.” Ricket seemed bothered by the fact that he could not piece together certain thoughts or memories.
“So this isn’t your ship?” Perry asked.
“Oh no … I do not possess a ship. I believe I was in the process of escaping. Perhaps I confiscated this space vessel … as I said, in order to keep it free from the hands of the Craing.”
“Hold up there,” Ol’ Gus said. “You said that you were a Craing; why would you need to escape from your own kind? To hide the thing?”
Ricket, slowly and at an angle, climbing up the gangway, lost his footing and slid all the way back down again.
“Hey there … careful! You don’t have your sea legs back yet,” Perry said, hurrying over to help him regain his footing, but Ricket held up a halting hand—indicating he was fine.
Ricket looked at Perry quizzically, perhaps not understanding the previous sea legs reference. “Yes, I am Craing. I think I was … a scientist. This part of my memory is problematic … I am sorry. I do know … the Craing, intended total domination … and had altered the power balance of the known universe. They had become barbaric.” Ricket made a concerned expression. “I believe, to the point they feasted on the species that they conquered, hence integrating barbarism into their … religion. I’m sorry … my memory. I’m not sure from whom I confiscated this vessel … everything is jumbled.”
Ricket, again climbing, was halfway up the ramp.
“Why don’t you come down from there? Obviously, that ship’s not going anywhere right now.” Perry, carefully observing the Craing alien, noted he was acting obsessed, even manic, in his actions. But then, what did he really know about aliens—how they typically acted, or reacted?
“I need to return to space. The Alliance … it may already be too late,” Ricket said, on the verge of sounding defiant.
Perry and Gus exchanged a quick glance.
“Um … are you hungry?” Gus asked, sounding unsure if it was appropriate to ask the question. “You said it’s been hundreds of years …” Then chuckling, “Hell, I get hungry if I miss lunch.”
The question halted Ricket’s less than fruitful climb up and he turned back toward Gus. “Yes, now that I am fully conscious, I am hungry. Quite hungry.”
“Good … that’s very good. So tell me, what do Craing people like to eat? Are you familiar with what we humans consume?”
“Thank you, Gus, somewhat familiar. At least I was, two hundred years ago.”
Perry watched as the short, approximately four-foot-tall alien—garbed in what appeared to be remnants of clothing but looked more like rags now—hustled down off the gangway to stand before them.
“We can look for the ship’s galley … look in their fridge … see what floats your boat,” Ol’ Gus said, heading away.
Observing the confusion on Ricket’s face, Perry gave his father a wary look. “What he means, Ricket, is we can show you whatever it is this vessel offers to eat. But there again … after two hundred years … there may not be food stocks,” Perry said.
“Yes, I like that suggestion, and there will be a replicator on board,” Ricket replied enthusiastically.
Perry raised a palm toward his father. “Hold up, Gus … there’s no way he’s able to climb that ramp. We’ll have to assist him.”
Gus shrugged. “So let’s help him. I don’t know what a replicator is but I’ve tried just about every kind of food on our own planet …” He rubbed his ample belly. “I’m game for some alien cuisine.”
Ricket looked at Gus with the same questioning expression.
“Okay … whatever,” Perry said. “We’ll each take an arm.”
Gus and Perry stepped onto the gangway and each carefully took one of Ricket’s small arms. “Let’s take this nice and slow, Ricket,” Perry said, taking it one small step at a time.
They passed into the vessel’s airlock compartment and let go of Ricket. The three continued walking.
“So you are a captain?” It was more a statement than a question.
Perry nodded assent: “A naval captain … I skipper a warship.”
His comment seemed to intrigue Ricket, for he took several steps closer to him. So close, in fact, that Perry felt the small alien actually invade into his personal space. A frequent human issue that Ricket seemed unfamiliar with; most ordinary people instinctively knew the ins and outs of personal space etiquette.
“Captain Reynolds, you are educated and you have spent numerous years commanding a vessel and its crew.”
Again a factual statement: “Yes, several ships … hundreds of crewmembers.”
“So you are strategic in your way of thinking? Trained, educated, to be successful in battle … to win wars?”
Perry wasn’t sure what prompted Ricket’s sudden interest. “Ricket … why the questions about my capabilities?”
“Two reasons: My fragmented memory includes aspects of a great war … between the Alliance and the Craing. Also … I am assessing if you would be an appropriate captain for this Caldurian vessel.”
Chapter 27
Sol System
Planet Earth, Subterranean Aquifer, The Lilly, San Bernardino, CA
__________________________
Summer, 1995 …
Perry and Gus followed closely behind Ricket, who seemed to be walking with more fluidity. He stopped at the portal and gestured toward it: “Do you understand how this DeckPort works, Captain Reynolds, and you, Gus?”
Both nodded and Perry said, “Somehow, it seems to know just where one wants to go … something like that.”
“Yes, very good, Captain. You made a correct assumption that most, left on their own, would not come up with. The ship’s AI can determine, read, one’s intended goal, focused on mentally, when they pass through the energy field. There are numerous DeckPorts on board this craft, although I do not believe I have encountered them all.”
“So is there a kitchen on board?” Gus asked,
seeming bored with Ricket’s lengthy explanation.
“Galley. It’s called a galley on a ship,” Perry corrected his father.
“Yes, there is a ship’s mess on board, with an adjacent galley,” Ricket said. “Keep that destination in your mind when you enter the DeckPort, please.” Ricket stepped through it first and was gone.
“You next, Dad.”
Gus hesitantly stepped forward and, smiling, looked back at Perry, then proceeded through the blue field of energy. Perry followed a moment later.
* * *
Present day …
“Hold on, Dad … I’m being hailed.
“Go for Captain,” Jason said, getting to his feet and holding two fingers to his ear.
“Cap, we have a problem,” Orion said. “A high-priority request has come in for Star Watch assistance.”
“From whom … where?”
“A small system, little more than five light-years out … the Klemmex System. It’s close in size to Sol; has a population of ten billion on eight separate worlds. They are part of the Alliance and want protection.”
“From what?” Jason asked, though he already knew the answer.
“A group of out-bound mining vessels, four days’ distance from the Klemmex System, reported seeing a quickly approaching fleet. A mass of warships, like nothing encountered before … including the Craing.
“It’s the Sahhrain fleet … they’re making far better progress than anticipated, Cap. They are approaching their system on an intersecting vector … a vector that puts Klemmex squarely in the path of those approaching warships.”
“Did you relay the condition of our own assets back? That neither Star Watch, nor the combined U.S. Alliance fleets, are in any condition to rescue anyone? We have our own impending invasion to deal with.”
“Of course, I did … they’re not concerned about our plight. They want the Alliance to make good on its agreement to provide them protection. They contributed funds and resources to it over the years and they’re demanding that the Alliance make good on its promise to give them protection from just this kind of threat.”
Jason pinched his tired eyes closed, between a thumb and forefinger. The latest request for Alliance aid would certainly not be the last. A wave of guilt washed over him. While he and Dira had quietly reclined for the past three hours, listening to his father’s recollections of decades-old events, the known universe was in dire peril. He knew, as Omni of the U.S. forces, he should be up in space right now—strategizing with those in high command on Liberty Station. But he was hit with the same, familiar realization: Any strategizing or planning at this point was, basically, futile. Mathematically, fending off the next Sahhrain attack was almost impossible, for an assault on the Sol System was imminent—less than a week away.
“Tell them to keep to themselves … we know exactly where the Sahhrain fleet is headed … right here to the Sol System. If they don’t bring attention to themselves … they should be fine. By no means should the Klemmex take any kind of military … hostile action.”
“You’re basically saying they need to play dead,” Orion said.
“Yup. That’s exactly what they need to do.”
He wondered if he’d just condemned the poor star system to death. In truth, he wasn’t as sure as he’d sounded that the Sahhrain would, in fact, pass them by. God … he hoped they would.
If there was a chance of defending the Sol System—as well as the thousands of other Alliance systems—they’d need to obtain outside aid … the Caldurians. Seemed it always came back to the Caldurians. But before that could happen, he needed to determine a few things having to do with the traversing of the multiverse, first. He didn’t have any idea where the Caldurians dwelled. Not only where, in the vastness of space, but the specific multiverse realm they inhabited. He needed to determine a reference point—the proverbial pin in an infinitesimal number of interstellar haystacks. His thoughts flashed to Mollie and Boomer, and their own journey into the multiverse on a completely separate, though equally important mission, to finally put a stop to Rom Dasticon.
It suddenly became apparent to Jason that traversing the multiverse, like the Caldurians so easily were capable of, should have held a much higher priority for him over the years. Ironically, Star Watch warships were outfitted with that same capability already. Looking back, with the exception of several past, mostly clumsy, attempts to journey into distant multiverse realms, his command had elected instead to concentrate their focus, or attention, here, within their own realm. They had learned it was far too easy to get lost within the countless realms of the multiverse. A dangerous proposition. But now Jason hoped his lack of foresight would not result in the systematic destruction of everything dear to him, not to forget the Alliance and Sol systems, including Earth. Mankind was standing at a precipice. Either find the way to venture into multiple realms at will, or face the beginning of civilization’s end.
“Cap … did you hear me?”
“I’m here, Gunny.”
“Thought I lost you there. So what do you want me to do? How long are you staying down on the surface?”
“I need a few more hours. Truth is, I don’t specifically know what it is I’m looking for, but I have … um … a hunch that the key to how we’ll proceed is buried in the past. I just need to uncover it.”
“Just know, Cap, I have thirty-seven separate queries waiting up here from six admirals and seven generals. I’ve got Earth … mostly the U.S. government, including the Joint Chiefs, making threats.”
“What kind of threats?”
“They want our assurance that the Star Watch fleet will protect the Sol System; that the most advanced warships in the known universe have assumed positions to defend them.”
“Or what? You said there were threats?” Jason asked.
“Or you’ll be replaced … I guess,” Orion said.
“With the likes of Admiral Stark or, better yet, my brother,” Jason said in disgust. Both his brother, who somehow was elevated to the rank of general and had briefly replaced Jason as the U.S. Fleet Omni, and Admiral Stark were now imprisoned in a brig somewhere, awaiting court martial trials for a long list of offenses that included collaborating with the enemy and misappropriation of funds on a grand scale. Jason hated being Fleet Omni. He didn’t feel he was particularly good at it and he would much prefer to lead a Star Watch mission into the far reaches of the galaxy. The problem was … nobody else appeared competent … well, except …
“Gunny, keep them all placated as best you can. I’ll finish up here tomorrow … actually today,” Jason said, noting the violet band of morning light already silhouetting the distant mountain range. “I’ll check back in a few hours.”
“I’ll do my best, Cap,” Orion said, and the connection ended.
Jason looked down at Dira and his father—they’d been watching him, listening to his conversation with Orion.
“You need to go?” the admiral asked, looking poised to stand.
Jason put a restraining palm up. “Not yet … I need to hear the rest of the story. But first I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
Jason hesitated.
“So just ask the damn question.”
“Why did you retire?”
“What do you mean, why did I retire? Isn’t it obvious? I’m not a young man any more, pushing the big seven-o. I’m perfectly content here, tinkering with old cars—”
Jason cut him off. “That’s bullshit! You told me yourself you haven’t aged a day since you were in your late forties.”
The admiral looked as if he were about to say something, but instead pursed his lips and glanced at Dira.
“He’s tired, Jason. He battled one alien race after another for decades; years before you even came on the scene. Don’t you think you’re being a bit … obtuse?”
Jason had to smile at that.
“Perhaps I am. So let me ask you something, Dira. You are the most highly qualified doctor in the syste
m, perhaps the entire sector. What is my father’s actual age, taking into account his time spent in a MediPod?”
Dira scowled at Jason and shifted somewhat in her seat. Her loyalty to his father, her commanding officer prior to Jason, had always been strong. She looked over to the admiral and said, “Well, I guess he’s in his early fifties. He’s in good shape.”
“And you’re actually twenty-nine still, yes?”
She shrugged.
Jason looked at his father and shook his head: “You don’t have the luxury of retiring at the age of fifty-five, or whatever damn age you are, when the wheels are falling off the bus … when the survival of humanity is hanging in the balance. I thought you were too old … on your way out. But hell, Dad … you’ll live for what … another hundred years?” Jason looked at Dira with his brows raised.
She shrugged again then reluctantly nodded. “Jason does have a point, Admiral. Look at Ricket … he’s what? Two hundred and thirty years old and still smack in the middle of things.”
The admiral raised his chin and inhaled a deep, thoughtful breath. “Shit … I don’t know why I didn’t think about it like that.”
“We’re all programmed to think of our age in relative terms. You only followed the same step society takes after thousands of years; doing what’s expected of someone near-seventy years old. But you’re not a typical seventy …”
“Okay … okay, I got it. Truth is, maybe I’m a bit bored tinkering with carbonators and rebuilding transmissions. So what would you have me do? There’s no shortage of admirals on Liberty Station.”
Jason took his seat next to Dira and leaned forward: “Dad, first you’re going to tell me the rest of the story, leading up to when Ricket shot Mollie in the heart and took her inside The Lilly. I want you to especially concentrate on any details concerning anything to do with the Caldurians.”
“I can do that.”
“After that, I’m stepping down as fleet Omni. That means there will be an immediate opening …”
Glory for Sea and Space (Star Watch Book 4) Page 15