Scrapyard Ship

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “…even if Nan had her cell phone on her person, obviously there are no cell tower services thousands of light years out in space. With that said, the Craing ship itself would have the capability to forward those signals—just as The Lilly can do. But this is all academic—unless we have supervisor-level access to an internal Craing network,” Ricket explained, seeming intrigued by the prospect.

  “Well, it was just a thought—Mollie gave me the idea last night and I wanted to throw it out there—even if it is a bit far-fetched. Let’s move on. Billy, I know you’re not feeling all that great, but with your help, I’d like to work out a tactical strategy to board and take over the Craing ship. Think your guys will be up for that?”

  “Yeah, we’ll be up for that, Captain. I’ll get some training maneuvers scheduled for tonight.” Billy smiled with his typical machismo-flair and a quick wink across to Orion.

  Orion scowled at the militarily-lax gesture. “If we have some time, I’d like to test the rail guns today and some of the other weaponry that’s recently come online. I have ordinances available that I’m clueless about. There’s a solid rocky ridge a quarter mile long and eight hundred feet high several miles to the east. I want to put some holes in it,” Orion said, matter- of- factly, looking at Jason. It took a moment before the others around the table turned to look at Gunny; no one really sure if she was serious. Jason knew—she was.

  “Scan for life signs. Make sure you don’t take out a weekend camper or a Boy Scout troop. But sure, have at it.”

  * * *

  On the bridge, Jason, Orion and Ricket prepared for weaponry and JIT ordinances tests.

  “We’ll be testing multiple criteria today, including accuracy, reload rates, any overheating issues, explosive yields for various ordinances, and more. Of course, here at sea-level atmosphere, results may be significantly altered from the vacuum conditions of space. The AI knows to compensate for all measurement calculation variances.”

  “Any significant difference between The Lilly’s rail guns and, say, those typically used on Alliance ships, or on Craing vessels?” Jason asked his gunnery sergeant.

  Orion nodded, as if expecting the question. “The velocity of the projectile is dependent on two things: the length of the rails, and the power of the current being applied to the rails. The Alliance ships, and even the Craing for the most part, use longer rails. Not so with The Lilly; the rails are ridiculously stubby. I’m curious how enough velocity can be generated for the guns to be effective. I guess we’ll find out,” Orion said, with a shrug. Ricket had been walking back and forth to several different consoles. Every so often the bill of his baseball cap would rise up—pointing toward Orion or Jason—as he listened to what had caught his interest.

  “We are ready,” Ricket announced, pulling himself up onto a nearby chair and entering something at the virtual terminal. The forward display changed orientation and increased the zoom level. The distant ridgeline now completely filled the display.

  “Lilly, what’s the composition of the ridge being targeted?” Jason asked.

  “Commonly known as granite. It consists of coarse grains of quartz of 10-50%, potassium feldspar, and sodium feldspar. These minerals make up more than 80% of the targeted rock ridgeline. Other common minerals present include muscovite and biotite,” the AI replied, in a flat tone.

  “So, I’m correct when I say the target area is solid?” Jason reaffirmed.

  “Yes, that is correct, sir.”

  “And the thickness across the ridge?”

  “Between five hundred and thirty, and six hundred and twenty-three feet at its widest,” the AI replied.

  “That’s a mother big piece of rock,” Jason said under his breath. “I’m ready when you are, Gunny.”

  “First, we’ll be testing the forward rail gun system utilizing a solid non-explosive ordinance with a fifteen-second burst. What is important to remember, Captain, is that we have no on-board stores for these ordinances. This is as much a test of the phase synthesizer’s JIT manufacturing capability as it is of the guns themselves.” Orion was at the weapons console and entered several commands. Small tracking cross hairs locked onto a specific rock outcropping on the display. Jason felt a slight vibration as the forward rail gun deployed on the lower hull of the ship.

  “Charging rail guns,” Orion said, then looked over to the captain.

  “Fire at will, Gunny.”

  The gun fired in rapid succession—for fifteen seconds a blur of dark streaks shot off in the direction of the targeted rock area. When the dust settled, the face of the rock outcropping was gone, leaving a perfectly symmetrical opening several feet in diameter.

  “Lilly, how deep was that penetration into the rock face?” Jason asked, leaning forward in his seat.

  “One hundred sixteen feet with no discernable deviation, Captain,” the AI responded.

  “And now, Captain, the same test with both forward and rear rail gun systems deployed,” the Gunny said, excitement creeping into her voice. Both guns fired in rapid succession—for fifteen seconds there was a blur of dark streaks in the directed targeted rock area. There was considerably less dust and the face of the rock outcropping was virtually unchanged.

  “Lilly, how deep was that second penetration into the rock face?” Jason questioned, his brow furrowed.

  “Three hundred-eight feet with no discernable deviation, Captain,” the AI responded.

  Jason looked over to Orion. “How would these results compare to those of comparable Alliance weapons?”

  Orion was shaking her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this, Captain. For such a short burst to inflict that much damage—it’s impressive to say the least. Lilly, using the current ordinances, how long can the rail gun systems sustain continual firing?”

  “Rail gun systems will overheat with prolonged firing lasting in excess of thirty minutes before requiring a four minute cool-down period.”

  “That’s also impressive, Captain,” Orion said. “A factor or two, or even three times better than anything we currently have in the Alliance arsenal. I’d like to try a few of the more exotic ordnances now. They’re listed on the selection menu, but I’m not real sure what they are. Do you have any idea, Ricket?”

  Ricket shook his head. “Minimal descriptions are available—I might be able to access more over time.”

  Orion selected a different set of ordinances from the display menu. “Let’s try these,” she said, looking over at Jason for approval. “These are called PQR ordinances and I’ll bring the burst duration down to five seconds to be safe.” Jason sat back in his chair and waited for the next test to begin.

  Both guns fired in rapid succession—almost immediately the ground started to shake. The five-second burst of bright white streaks shot off in the direction of the ridge. A large plume of dust filled the air and obscured the ridgeline from view.

  “What the hell was that?” Jason asked, excitedly. As the dust started to settle, it became evident that a section hundreds of feet across had been completely and totally obliterated—leaving two separate ridgelines where there previously was one.

  Ricket nodded his head in appreciation. “ I believe that PQR ordinance have anti-matter characteristics.”

  “Sorry, Captain, I had no idea of the potential damage... we should probably hold off on any more testing until we’re in open space.” Orion looked down at her console, embarrassed.

  “There’s so much we don’t know about this ship,” Jason said. “But I agree with your assessment.” He was hailed via his NanoCom. “Go for Captain, what can I do for you, Billy?” Jason asked aloud, holding two fingers to his ear. He had discovered that was the common crew practice when communicating.

  “If you’re done blowing up mountains, we’d like to commence training maneuvers. We’ll be staging men and equipment external to the ship. From there conducting four-team raids into various access points.”

  “Has everyone completed their HyperLearning?” Jason asked him.
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  “Yes, but with the exception of the new weapons and the ship’s advanced technologies this won’t be all that different from other raids we’ve conducted. We’ll need to ensure we have the element of surprise and the sooner we get started with these maneuvers, the better.”

  “Understood, you better get cracking then, Lieutenant. Give me a progress report in four hours.”

  “Aye, Captain, Billy out.”

  “Contacts approaching from the east and south, sir,” Orion announced. “Looks like a squadron of F-18’s—Yeah, they are the same ones from Air Station Meridian. Orders sir?”

  The display, still depicting the decimated ridgeline to the East, showed six of the jet fighters approaching at high velocity. “Try to contact…”

  Orion interrupted Jason mid-sentence—“Captain, we have incoming. Multiple missiles.”

  “Can you destroy them?”

  “No time—we only have seconds and the ship’s still configured for test mode.”

  “Ricket, what will those missiles do to The Lilly?” Jason asked, desperation in his voice.

  “There will be no damage to the ship itself,” Ricket replied, evenly.

  That was good news, but something else nagged at the back of Jason’s mind. “Shit, Billy’s maneuvers!” Jason blurted. Using his NanoCom, he hailed his friend.

  “Go for Billy. What’s up, Captain?” Billy queried, but abruptly cut the connection.

  “Lilly, get me a high-up visible of the ship and surrounding perimeter,” Jason commanded. The display changed to an elevated view showing The Lilly and two of Billy’s four-man SEAL teams running flat out. Still at fifty yards—they were scrambling to get back to the ship. The display flashed white and The Lilly shook. The sound of muffled explosions at the outer hull reverberated as additional incoming missiles found their target. Everything went quiet. Incapacitated by shock and then disbelief the bridge crew momentarily froze. “XO, get a team to attend the wounded. Orion, connect me to that squadron leader before they commence another run—hurry!”

  “Channel is open, Captain, but they’re not talking to us,” Orion said. “But they will hear you.”

  “This is Captain Jason Reynolds of The Lilly, the United Planetary Alliance vessel you have just fired upon. This is a non-hostile vessel with U.S. military personnel aboard; I repeat, this vessel has U.S. military personnel aboard.” Jason listened for some kind of acknowledgment.

  “This is Admiral Malinda Cramer, commanding officer at Air Station Meridian. You will comply with the following directives. First, you will prepare to be boarded and allow full access by U.S. military personnel. Second, you will relinquish all weapons and…” Jason cut off the admiral.

  “Ma’am, I apologize, but that’s simply not going to happen. And I feel once you understand the situation, you’ll support our continued actions.”

  “Captain Reynolds was it? When a foreign vessel enters United States air space without prior clearance and then proceeds to fire a nuclear weapon—let me be perfectly clear, nothing short of a declaration of war will be levied on the responsible nation. The seriousness of this is monumental.”

  “Admiral, are you aware of the alien vessel in high orbit around the planet?”

  “Of course,” she replied, her irritation mounting.

  “Our single most important initiative right now is to either capture that vessel or destroy it. This vessel, the one you sent three AIM-7 Sparrow missiles at was unaffected. Although the eight U.S. SEAL team members conducting training maneuvers on the ground, were most likely killed. If you think we can’t destroy anything the U.S. military, or any other military force could throw at us, I suggest you take another look at that solid granite ridgeline.” There was a pause and Jason could here papers shuffling—undoubtedly, the admiral had been handed a dossier by her support staff, bringing her up to speed on who she was talking to.

  “You’re a Navy SEAL, Lieutenant Commander. You’re the late Admiral Perry Reynolds’s son—am I correct?” The admiral queried Jason. “I knew of your father. A fine officer.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I was previously a SEAL commander on the U.S. Tripoli; presently Captain on this vessel. And yes, I am Admiral Perry Reynolds’s son, guilty as charged. Although he’s still very much alive.” Jason said, knowing how far-fetched that must sound.

  “Captain, Admiral Reynolds has been reported missing, most likely dead, for over fifteen years. Are you telling me this information is incorrect?”

  “Yes, I discovered this fact myself just a few short days ago—this was his ship. Admiral Reynolds has been fighting an interstellar war with an alien race called the Craing. And yes, I do know how absolutely ridiculous that sounds. The ship in high orbit around Earth is a Craing light cruiser. Their intentions are to infiltrate Earth.”

  “And the reason your father didn’t work through normal government or military channels?” the admiral asked Jason, disbelief in her voice.

  “You’re asking the same questions I had, Ma’am. It’s important that you understand the Craing have been preparing this invasion for many years. They are patient and this isn’t their first infiltration. From what my father has indicated, human-like Craing beings have infiltrated the highest levels of our government and military. There was no one in authority here he could trust. But right now, I need to attend to my fallen crewmembers. And by the way, I see one jet fighter, in fact, military vehicles of any kind approaching—it will be destroyed and any resulting deaths will be on your head.” Jason needed to get off the bridge. “Please contact your superiors and we can resume this conversation, let’s say two hours from now.” Jason got up and headed for the exit. “You have the con, XO,” he declared over his shoulder.

  Medical was a flurry of commotion. Four of the MediPods were already filled with injured SEAL team members, and Dira was helping to situate another man into the remaining capsule. Fresh blood covered the bottom half of her grey jumpsuit. She looked up when Jason arrived. “What the hell happened out there?” Dira asked him, her tone accusing. “I need Ricket; where’s that damn robot?” Just then Ricket darted into Medical.

  Beginning with the first MediPod, he checked on each of the displays, made adjustments where needed, moving on then to the next pod, and then the next. Jason looked through the small observation window on each of the MediPods, then rushed into an adjacent semi-circular room configured with twenty or so hospital-type beds, each bed perpendicular to the curved bulkhead. Here lay three more men with varying degrees of injury. Billy Hernandez occupied the centermost bed.

  “Captain, over here.” Billy beckoned Jason with a wave. His sleeve had been cut away and a bandage encircled the top portion of his arm.

  “How’s your team? What’s the extent of your injuries, Billy?” Jason inquired, evident concern in his voice.

  “Twenty-five were in the mess hall feeding their faces. Sixteen of us of were on maneuvers. Of those, half were on the far side of the ship—just inside the fighter bay. Then all hell rained down on us. I’m fine, but Lieutenant Morgan here has, um—”

  “Cavitation wounds,” Dira interjected, entering the room. She quickly moved to the side of Morgan and checked his vitals. “He should be OK, once we get him into an available MediPod. Unfortunately, some of the men there won’t require any further medical attention.”

  “How many injured—what’s the count on fatalities?” Jason asked, aware that Dira still hadn’t looked at him.

  “From what I understand, all the men who were outside the ship were vaporized, I’m sorry.” Dira said sympathetically to Billy.

  “Those were eight of the finest men—” the words caught in his throat. Overwhelmed by emotion, Billy blinked his eyes in rapid succession.

  Dira continued on for Billy: “The eight men outside the ship were killed, two more standing in the open fighter bay are also dead. It looks like the remaining six will recover.”

  Jason nodded and took another look around the room.

  “Where’s Mollie righ
t now?” Jason queried.

  “She’s fine. I asked Seaman Plimpton not to let her out of his sight and to take her down to the Zoo.”

  The Captain’s brow furrowed. “The cook?”

  “Yes, the cook. He’s also super responsible and someone I trust.” Dira moved on to attend to an unconscious patient with several burns on his upper torso and face. “I was going to let you know as soon as things settled down here.”

  “Thank you. Is there anything else I can do to help? You need other support staff?”

  Dira nodded. “Billy mentioned several of his boys below were also EMTs. They’re already on their way up.”

  Jason looked at Billy. “I need to return to the bridge.”

  Billy pulled an IV tube from his arm, swung his feet off the bed and stood. “And I’ve also got work to do,” Billy said.

  Jason looked over to Dira who gave a resigned shrug. “Just try to take it easy, Billy, you’ve been through a lot.”

  He nodded and headed out of Medical.

  Jason found Ricket still helping with the MediPod casualties in the next room. The two EMT’s had arrived and were busy helping out: one was using a vacuum device to remove blood off the floor, while the other was positioning a dead SEAL into a body bag.

  “Captain, we have company,” Perkins transmitted into his NanoCom.

  “On my way.” Jason was already running for the bridge. Ricket looked up and followed close on his heels.

  Chapter 9

  “Well, Admiral Cramer obviously didn’t take your threats to heart, Captain, “his XO said, watching the scene unfold on the display console.

  Jason shook his head. “Those approaching transport helicopters are U.S. Army-led. They’re following their own command structure.”

  “Captain, we’ve got troop movement and a convoy of tanks rolling across the desert in our direction,” Orion reported from her console.

  “How far out, Gunny?”

  “They’re twenty minutes from our position. We’re being hailed by the admiral—it’s been two hours.”