Scrapyard Ship 3 Space Vengeance

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “Of course. It is an unfortunate one. But such is the nature of wars.”

  “Will you help me?”

  “Your kind, not unlike the Craing, are slowly evolving. Soon you will outgrow the necessity of fighting amongst yourselves.”

  “Like the Caldurians.”

  “Yes, the Caldurians outgrew fighting petty wars, killing each other, some time ago.”

  “Look, we only want to stop the Craing. We’re not warmongers here; we’re defending worlds from being annihilated—our own world from being annihilated.”

  “We cannot position ourselves in between your conflict with the Craing. Society is at a turning point—at an evolutionary crossroads.”

  “Well, that’s not happening nearly fast enough. Their fleet of two thousand warships is poised to destroy more planets, complete stellar systems. I’m not going to let that happen. And let me add one more thing: by diverting the Allied fleet, you didn’t save lives, you cost them.”

  The interface did not respond to this, seeming to weigh Jason’s words.

  “In simple terms, what I provide is access. There are reasons why I don’t interface with emerging societies that would use that capability as a weapon. This puts us in a difficult position.”

  Ricket took a step closer and put his hand on the portal. “I’ve been told this capability is not unique to the interface. That it’s actually quite simple once one knows the corresponding, universal, mathematical properties.”

  “The word simple is relative. What is simple for one society may be virtually impossible for another. Although the Caldurians have made strides moving about the multiverse, they still do not have the capability to generate unique kinds of sustainable wormholes which would support travel across the universe.”

  “I don’t believe you’re willing to stand by while millions, if not billions, of lives are lost. Perhaps, though, you are willing to compromise? Provide Ricket with the basic mathematical properties, the formula, if you will. If we’re not advanced enough to make heads or tails out of it, then we’re obviously not ready for its implementation, and we’ll make the best of a bad situation,” Jason added.

  The Drapple was quick to respond: “We are not withholding that information. It is not ours to withhold. But we will agree to provide this information. A transfer to your internal memory stores is now in process. We wish you well.”

  With that, the Drapple leisurely swam away.

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 40

  Teardrop was on the move, its energy weapon protruding from the open plate at the center of its body.

  “Warning! Outside security perimeter has been breached. Weapons fire detected. Plasma turret has been destroyed.”

  “Mom! Can’t you get it to shut up?” Molly screamed above all the racket. “How many times does it have to say the same thing?”

  Nan and Mollie huddled together as they watched the multiple security feeds up on the TV monitor. Once Stalls had walked around the outside perimeter of the house, he returned to his shuttle. Several minutes later he came out wearing a battle suit and holding a large energy weapon.

  Stalls moved from one window to the next, pulling and prying at the metal security shutters. Eventually he concentrated on the largest window shutter at the back of the house. Using the butt of his weapon he continued to pound at it over and over. With little impact on the shutter, Stalls took several steps backward and fired; plasma bolts shook the house and left blackened scorch marks. The firing stopped as Stalls moved in to check the damage.

  Nan watched as the tall pirate became more and more enraged. He began to use the butt of his rifle again. He stopped, out of breath, and looked up to the roofline. He raised his rifle and fired. Shingles flew into the air, some of them catching on fire.

  The sounds from within the house were deafening.

  “Teardrop!” Nan yelled. “He’s shooting at the roof. The roof is coming apart!”

  Teardrop, now behind them, was also looking at the security feeds.

  “He will soon find that the sub-roof is covered in metal plating,” Teardrop said, moving about the great room and rising up toward the ceiling. “No structural breach detected.”

  With a large section of the roof shingles blown away exposing the metal plates beneath, Stalls stopped firing and stood back. Then he was gone, heading back toward his shuttle.

  “Is he leaving, Mom? Has he given up?” Mollie asked.

  “I don’t know, Mollie. Maybe.”

  In seconds the shuttle was back airborne and hovering over the pool. Its primary energy weapon came alive, concentrating its fire on the security shutters at the back of the house.

  “Structural breach in process, structural breach in process.”

  Both sliding glass windows shattered as the security shutters went from a glowing amber color to a bright white. Intense heat emanated in waves into the kitchen and back into the great room. The large metal shutters disintegrated. Nan and Mollie ran for cover seeing the shuttle hovering before them behind the newly exposed rear of the house.

  Nan watched as Teardrop moved with amazing speed, taking up a defensive position at the rear of the house. Nan, who had felt unsure if it would be able to defend them against the pirate’s shuttle, now felt some hope. Teardrop fired a continual barrage of plasma bolts into the belly of the hovering craft. The shuttle fired back, but Teardrop was so quick, darting from one position to the next, that the only thing Stalls could accomplish was further destruction to the house itself.

  Teardrop rose into the air and moved in closer to the craft, concentrating its fire-power on a singular spot on the hull.

  The shuttle continued to fire back and Teardrop was struck multiple times, destroying one of its arms, and then it suffered a direct hit to its energy weapon. Several more energy bolts struck the drone and Teardrop fell from the air into the pool, where it immediately sank to the bottom.

  “Mom!”

  “I know, I saw,” Nan said back, never taking her eyes off the hovering shuttle. Both Nan and Mollie crouched low, hiding behind the wall next to the fireplace.

  “What’s he want, Mom? Why’s he doing this to us?”

  “I don’t know. He’s a bad man. But we’re going to show him he can’t get away with it, right?”

  “AI, are you there?” Nan yelled above the sound of the hovering shuttle.

  There was no response.

  “Bag End, Mom, remember?”

  “Are you there, Bag End?” Nan tried again.

  “Yes, I am here, Nan Reynolds.”

  “What can you do to help us … to defend us against the intruder?”

  “Security deterrents within the premises are active and functional.”

  “What about outside; is there anything else you can do?” Nan asked, taking another quick peek around the corner.

  “With the destruction of the plasma turret, there are no additional external weapons available.”

  The shuttle was on the move again. Nan and Mollie listened as it moved over the house and landed on the driveway.

  Nan reached over and pulled the small energy weapon from the holster at Mollie’s side.

  “You remember how to shoot this, Mollie? You remember what Orion taught you?”

  “I think so. But those were targets, not a real person.”

  “I know, sweetie, but you saw what that bad man did to Teardrop. We’re both going to have to be brave. Can you do that?”

  “I think so,” Mollie replied, not sounding all that certain.

  Crawling on hands and knees they moved back away from the wall to get a better look at the security feeds on the TV monitor. The shuttle’s gangway had already been deployed and it took several seconds to see where Stalls had gone.

  “There he is,” Mollie said, pointing to one of the outside camera feeds.

  Nan pulled out her own pistol and ensured that the safety was off and that it was set to its maximum charge. Mollie watched and did the same on her own weapon.

>   “He’s coming around to the back yard,” Nan whispered.

  “Bag End, as soon as you have a clear shot of the intruder, shoot that fucker. Don’t stop until he’s dead.”

  Mollie looked up at her mother with wide eyes and then nodded her head in silent agreement.

  “Security defense mode has been set to lethal,” the AI replied.

  They heard his footsteps before they saw him. It became apparent Stalls was carefully making his way around to the back of the house, not taking any chances.

  “He’s right there, Mom,” Mollie whispered, never taking her eyes off the exposed back of the house.

  “Okay, shhhh, be very quiet now.”

  His shadow moved across the deck like a stealthy black cat. When he finally came into view, he was no longer wearing his battle suit. Nan knew why. He wanted her to see him. His inflated ego had taken precedence over basic common smarts. Wearing snug-fitting black trousers and a dress shirt, he looked ridiculous. His long black hair was now free, falling all the way down his back. He was at the pool and looking down at Teardrop; she guessed he wanted to make sure the drone was truly out of commission. Satisfied, Stalls stood up tall and turned toward the direction of the house. Smiling, he brushed his hair back one more time and headed for the broken sliding glass doors. Safety glass crunched under the soles of his boots. He hesitated, peered inside and took a tentative step forward.

  Nan felt Mollie tense, her breathing had increased and she knew her heart was about to beat right out of her chest. She held a finger to her lips and put her attention back on Stalls. Her mind raced: why doesn’t the AI just shoot him?

  Stalls, now more relaxed, let the muzzle of his rifle drop several inches. Realizing he was on his way into the great room where they would be instantly seen, Nan pointed for Mollie to hurry and crawl backward out of sight. Nan stood and held her weapon at the ready.

  He entered the great room twenty feet away and smiled when he saw her.

  “Hello, Nan. I am happy, so very happy, to see you again.”

  She didn’t respond, only held his stare and waited for him to get a little closer. She had practiced, along side Mollie, getting better with hitting the center zone of the targets, but … as Mollie had pointed out … they were only targets.

  Stalls slowly shook his head and said, “Nan, you have no need for that weapon. I could no more hurt you than I could hurt myself. I’ve gone to considerable lengths coming here. Finding you. I’m hoping my actions speak for themselves. I’m hoping that you realize I love you. That I want to make you mine.”

  He took another step, and then another. Almost undetectable, dozens of small security panels opened above and below on the walls and ceiling. Stalls’ eyes flashed and focused on the multiple weapon barrels moving into position. He dove, but had moved too late. The room erupted into mayhem. Plasma bolts seemed to emanate from everywhere. Nan crouched and found Mollie several feet behind her. Together, they used their arms to cover their heads and waited.

  She watched as Stalls, now unarmed and on the ground, crawled toward the kitchen and its smaller family room area. She watched as his body took repeated shots—tensing in apparent agony each time he was hit with another plasma bolt. Numerous black scorch marks peppered his back and upper legs. He had slowed but was still able to crawl, making it out of the great room.

  “Bag End, why have you stopped firing?” Nan yelled.

  “Security weapons in compartments two and three are inoperable.”

  Tentatively, Nan got to her feet. She signaled for Mollie to stay put. She checked her weapon settings one more time and slowly walked toward the entrance to the family room. She stopped and listened and heard nothing. She wanted him dead, more than she had ever wanted anything. Another step and she could see his legs. Not moving. Entering the family room with her weapon pointed at Stalls’ prone outstretched body, she kicked at one of his boots. No movement. Lying on his stomach with his face turned away, Nan wanted to make sure he was truly dead. Sliding with her back against the wall and keeping as much space between herself and Stalls as possible, she moved into the room.

  Stalls moved quickly for a man shot a dozen times. How he had retrieved his weapon Nan had no idea, and by the time she had brought her own weapon up to fire, she had taken a plasma bolt to the top of her forehead. Her last conscious thought was of Mollie, Oh my god, Mollie.

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 41

  Betty led Brian and the hopper down into the bowels of the freighter and continued aft in what seemed to Brian like a corridor without end. The smell of fresh grain became even more pungent—to the point Brian nearly turned back. He noticed neither Betty or the hopper seemed to have any problem with the strong odor.

  Betty stopped several times to tell the hopper to back off, not walk so close behind her. She was already annoyed at the creature, primarily, Brian thought, because it had defecated twice along the way. Brian tried to explain that the hopper’s environment did not include the use of toilets, but she’d cut him short, not wanting to discuss it.

  “We’re fortunate that the internal ship dampeners and artificial gravity wells are still online,” she said over her shoulder. “Can you imagine making this trek in zero G?”

  “No, I’m having enough trouble just walking,” Brian replied, peering beyond her to see if there was any kind of end in sight.

  The hopper was clicking and hissing. Turning its head in Brian’s direction, it repeated the same sounds again.

  “Unless you can eat grain, you’re just going to have to wait a bit,” Brian responded.

  Betty turned and looked at the hopper. “That thing’s not going to gouge my heart out, is it?”

  “I don’t think so, but it’s got a mind of its own. As I said before, best if you try to be nice.”

  She didn’t say anything but did her best to smile in the hopper’s direction.

  “We almost there?”

  “Yeah, we’re coming to a juncture, then just up two flights of stairs.”

  Brian and the hopper followed behind Betty as they approached a set of metal-rung stairs.

  “Up this way,” she said, taking the rungs two at a time.

  Brian was content to take them one at a time, and watched her distance herself; she was out of sight when she turned up ahead.

  Brian eyed the hopper, which seemed to know what to do. It squeezed past Brian and sprung toward the top of the stairs in one fluid motion. Now, with both out of his line of vision, Brian tried to hurry up the metal rungs, but felt another round of the continual waves of nausea take hold, eventually forcing him to stop climbing completely. Bending over, he felt bile rise up from his stomach. He retched but avoided throwing up. Looking up the stairs, Brian wondered if the hopper had indeed decided Betty’s heart would make an adequate snack.

  Using his NanoCom’s translator he yelled up toward the top of the stairs, “Hey! Don’t eat her heart. Or anything else, for that matter.”

  A moment later the hopper peered over the railing, but no sign of Betty. Shit, he thought, they’d need her to get off this fucking freighter. To his relief, Betty peered over the railing and looked down at him from above.

  “You all right down there?” she asked, with no semblance of concern in her voice.

  “I’m good,” he replied and continued on up after them.

  By the time Brian made it to the top of the stairs, he was huffing and puffing. Betty and the hopper, sitting against the bulkhead, watched him approach with indifference. Betty got up and entered a code into a greasy, well-used panel at the side of a metal hatchway. There was a loud clanging sound that Brian figured was the mechanical latch mechanism. The hatch sprung open several inches and Betty pushed the hatch forward enough to enter into the next corridor.

  The corridor was dark, with a strobe warning sign above another hatchway at the end of the hall. Brian’s NanoCom translated the words.

  WARNING! HULL BREACH. DO NOT ENTER.

  “This is the entrance to
Engineering. As you can see, it’s open to space. No way we’re getting in there,” Betty said.

  Brian looked at the blinking sign above the hatch and then at several other hatchways closer along the corridor.

  “Where do those lead?”

  “That one leads to a maintenance area and a bathroom,” she answered, quickly glancing toward the hopper. “And the other one leads to our bin lift.”

  “What’s a bin lift?”

  Betty shrugged and shook her head as if it was a stupid question. “I don’t know; it’s like a fork lift thing that moves bins of grain around. It’s huge and it makes a lot of noise.”