Boomer (Star Watch Book 3)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Chapter 38

  The Stellar no sooner phase-shifted to the surface of Draggim, to a clearing within visual sight of the obstacle course, than Boomer—impatient to get back to the others—phase-shifted to an area directly beneath the stored coordinates on her HUD of the high up hive perch position. She looked up and saw no one on the ledge.

  “Rogna? Gain?” she yelled up toward the empty ledge. Nothing.

  She double-checked her HUD to ensure no one was standing above her—that she wouldn’t be displacing their body mass, knocking them off the hive. She phase-shifted.

  In an instant, Boomer knew she was alone. Neither Gain nor Rogna were around. Her irritation with them for leaving was about to boil over. She stopped, closed her eyes, and used her baskile meditation technique to bring her nerves back under control. Taking several long, deep breaths—completely and totally clearing her mind of all thoughts and emotions—Boomer felt familiar warmth flow through her veins. With her inner self again centered, she could reason clearly.

  Use technology at your disposal, she mentally admonished herself. She’d forgotten to access technological capabilities readily available to her. Her eyes roved down to the row of life-icons at the bottom of her HUD, recognizing Hanna’s, Leon’s, and Drom’s life forms, emanating from the nearby Stellar. She could see her own icon, too—standing on the perch—plus two others, relatively close by. Boomer quickly adjusted her HUD menu to provide a more precise level of meta-info, displayed alongside each life icon. Apparently her suit’s internal AI had accurately assigned proper name designations to each—now floating next to the stationary yellow icons.

  Boomer stared straight ahead, studying the flaky husk of the tall, building-like, hive. But what if it wasn’t an abandoned hive? Boomer tried to recall something Rogna had said earlier—something about hearing something. She’d been ignored.

  Again, as her eyes took in the row of yellow icons, she realized she’d made a wrong assumption—assumed that the HUD’s background, a bright red, was just that—the background. But it wasn’t. The use of the suit’s HUD was coming back to her and she quickly used the zoom feature to spread out a section of the display. What seemed a solid mass of red only moments before now showed a jittering mass of tiny, individual, bright red life-icons, symbolizing alien life. Boomer refocused her sight back onto the hive beyond. Mere feet beyond the flaky husk of a wall were thousands of large insects. According to her readings, the two friendly yellow life-icons, hidden twenty feet in front of her, were Rogna and Gain. Oh my God!

  Feeling an almost overwhelming sense of protectiveness, Boomer didn’t hesitate; she phase-shifted into the hive. She could see the insects—how could she not—when she was so close and personal with too many to count. The blinding flash must have momentarily stunned them, as they seemed to be unconscious. Just enough light was coming in through the hive husk from the outside for her to see. She expected to find big, bumblebee-type insects and was surprised to see a species totally unfamiliar to her. About the size of the average small dog or cat, they were indeed black and yellow striped, and bee-like. But their bodies were a mix, sort of a cross between a sea crab and a lobster. And they had wings: Black-and-yellow-striped lobsters, winged. Boomer avoided looking too close at their equally oversized claw-pinchers. Again, lobster-like, they looked large enough to encircle a human’s neck and snip off the head.

  Boomer didn’t wait to go on the offensive. But her movements were curtailed by the close proximity of the bugs and a gooey, honey-like, substance, and by the husk walls of the hive itself.

  Pinchers opened and closed next to Boomer’s helmet. The large creatures were coming out of their funk. Before her brain had a chance to process what was happening, the closest lobster-bee attacked. She felt its oversized pinchers on her neck and was certain, if it weren’t for her protective combat suit, she’d have already lost her head. Slowly, she raised both wrists and fired from her suit’s integrated plasma cannons. The effect was strange. The honey surrounding her immediately crystalized from the intense heat. The lobster-bee was dead, although its pinchers remained attached—still holding firm around her neck. The crystalized honey broke away in sheets, which then turned to dust.

  According to Boomer’s HUD, her friends were less than eight feet off to her left. The insects had briefly scurried away from her, after firing the bright plasma bolts, but were now moving back, although hesitantly. Again she fired—this time selectively choosing her targets—only those blocking her advancement forward, toward Rogna and Gain.

  Her progression was slow and it seemed the insects were getting less and less afraid of the repeated plasma bursts. Up ahead, she saw the outlines of two human forms through the blurry, yellowish honey.

  She felt something around her left ankle and saw a pair of claw pinchers doing their best to cleave through her suit. Boomer ignored it for the moment, continuing her slow-motion trek toward her friends. She reached Rogna first. Her eyes were open and her mouth agape—as if caught in the midst of a scream. She could see on her HUD life-icon readout that Rogna was alive but in some kind of suspended state. Perhaps that was best. It would be terrible—being awake through this ordeal—waiting for what? Maybe to be eaten later? Or, perhaps even worse, die slowly from starvation?

  Methodically, Boomer used her wrist cannons to clear both the insects and honey away from Rogna’s body, leaving several inches of the sappy substance around her. She feared clearing it away any closer, as the plasma fire might burn her flesh.

  Boomer heard Leon’s voice hailing her.

  “Go for Boomer. I’m okay. I’m down in the big hive. I found my friends are … they’re like in a suspended animation. Hey, Leon … is Drom out of the MediPod yet?”

  “No, he has serious injuries. It could be several hours still.”

  “Maybe I should leave these two in here. Until Drom is out.”

  “I don’t think so, Boomer. As the saying goes, the natives are getting restless out here. I don’t know what it was like before, but the bugs … they’re all over the place. I suspected those two were in trouble. Best to get them into the Stellar.”

  “Okay. I’m bringing Rogna out first. Where should I bring her?”

  “I’ve just sent you the coordinates to the Stellar’s lower-level hold. Bring them both there. Hanna will attend to them the best she can.” Leon cut the connection.

  In the few moments spent speaking with Leon, the lobster-bees swarmed back in. Ignoring them for the moment, Boomer took Rogna by the arms and rocked her statue-like form, back and forth, until her feet broke free from the hive. Boomer locked into the coordinates sent to her by Leon and phase-shifted them away.

  She flashed into the Stellar’s hold and immediately felt Rogna’s weight in her arms. The honey formed around her body had turned less viscous—almost water-like—and Rogna began to spasm.

  “She’s suffocating!” Hanna shouted, joining them. “Turn her over on her side … clear her mouth of that shit!”

  Together, they rolled her over and Rogna began to heave up copious amounts of the yellowish liquid. She gasped for air and began to scream.

  Boomer and Hanna exchanged a quick glance. Hanna said, “Go! Get the other one. I’ve got her.”

  Boomer flashed away.

  * * *

  Boomer shifted back to the same spot she’d left moments before. The lobster-bees, again stunned back into unconsciousness, seemed to have doubled in number. She turned in the direction she’d last seen Gain and found him gone. She checked her life-icon readout and spotted him, all the way down in the bottom of the hive. How they’d moved him there so fast was beyond her.

  She phase-shifted, flashing into the lower part of the hive, and realized the environment down there was very different. No more did a thick honey substance envelop her surroundings. There were countless lobster-bees—temporarily immobile from the last phase-shift flash—and she could see them close up in all their disgusting buggy detail.

  Gain, lying nearby on
the floor of the hive, seemed to be coming out of some kind of suspended state. Gagging—barf-like drool flowed from his mouth. Boomer’s own gag response nearly caused her to throw up too, into her helmet. Gain’s arms were positioned above his head. No fewer than eight lobster-bees had their skinny, insect legs wrapped around his arms, as if they had dragged him—carrying him off to a specific place. How she knew that, she didn’t know. Perhaps, after years of homeschooling on board The Lilly, or even before that, when life on Earth was normal? But one fact she knew for sure—all beehives had one thing in common—a queen.

  Chapter 39

  Emerging from the tree line, and seeing the dramatic structure for the first time, Jason, Rizzo, and Mollie, accompanied by thirty-two Sharks, approached Loma City. Two Sahhrain prisoners, hands bound behind their backs, were with them—periodically shoved along at gunpoint.

  Mollie was the first to comment on what the others, undoubtedly, were thinking too. “This is amazing! Beautiful! It’s like heaven here. Is this where Boomer’s been living?”

  “I don’t know. Truth is, I don’t know a hell of a lot about what Boomer’s been doing for the last few years,” Jason said.

  Rizzo instructed the Sharks to split up into three teams—begin clearing the Glist city. The soldiers double-timed their way up a wide formal stairway that was clearly the entrance into the cliff-side city. Rizzo continued to point his multi-gun at both Sahhrain warriors. One of them spat constantly and sniffed from a bloodied nose.

  Jason looked up at the glowing bluish structures built into the side of the cliff. An almost Greek influence was strongly evident in the massive pillars and formal-looking geometric shapes. His eyes wandered across hundreds of protruding balconies, of varying sizes, and scanned for signs of life. He saw none.

  Still, Jason was hopeful. “You said you’d only just arrived here?” he asked the uninjured Sahhrain.

  The prisoner shrugged and Rizzo flipped his multi-gun over, stock forward, ready to strike the prisoner in the face.

  Jason held up a hand and raised his brow—as if questioning the Sahhrain warrior—is this what’s going to be necessary?

  He shook his head. “We arrived less than an hour before you … hadn’t even set up a base camp yet.”

  “Where is everybody? The inhabitants of the city?” Jason asked.

  The Sahhrain slowly answered, showing disgust on his face: “They’re up there … somewhere. Hiding in their little domiciles like scared rodents. Another hour and we would have exterminated the lot of them for you.”

  Jason saw anger on Mollie’s face, then relief, hearing that all the locals were probably still alive. A Shark appeared above them, several stories up, and was leaning over a railing. He waved the all-clear signal—which was necessary, since their comms were still not operational there.

  * * *

  It took some time before the local Blues citizenry began to emerge from their hiding places. Even then, Jason and his crew’s presence was regarded with mistrust and a certain level of hostility. Standing now in what he surmised was the city’s main hall, or perhaps a governmental chamber, Jason—who could see the Blues in his peripheral vision—was looked at with sideway glances. He heard their low murmuring voices. The first of the Blues to finally speak to them seemed far more interested in Mollie than in the rest of them. Jason listened intently to his reply, when Mollie asked him if she looked familiar to him. He was old, severely hunched over, but there was intelligence in his eyes.

  “Were you not here before?” he asked her, then, standing somewhat more erect, he looked more closely at her. “No, it was not you. The hair is different … you are not the same one.”

  “You speak of my sister, Boomer. Was she here? When?” Mollie asked, trying to keep the excitement from her voice.

  His eyes nervously moved back and forth, going from Mollie to Jason.

  “It’s okay … you’re safe, I promise,” Jason said. “We’re not here to harm you. We’re here to stop the Sahhrain. Tell us about Boomer?”

  “Let him be!”

  Jason and Mollie spun around to see an attractive older Blues woman approaching. She wore a long flowing Shadick, and almost seemed to glide across the floor. “I am Elder Pauli. You can speak with me.”

  The old man bowed to her and quickly ambled away. Both Jason and Mollie instinctively bowed their heads to her.

  Rizzo raised his weapon—ushering the two prisoners away.

  Elder Pauli stared at Mollie, like the old man had done. A small smile crossed her lips. “You are not sisters?”

  Mollie’s eyes flashed to Jason then back to Elder Pauli. Almost imperceptibly, Mollie shook her head.

  The Blues elder raised a hand and placed it alongside Mollie’s face. “Oh my dear, you have no idea how important you are. But there again … how could you know?” A single tear welled up in the elder’s eye, overflowed, and escaped down her lined cheek.

  Elder Pauli took her hand away, then placed her attention on Jason. “Much is explained now: The inconsistencies of the ancient writings. The almost contradictory aspects of just who the warrior child would be. They didn’t have words back then to explain the miracle that created two children from an anomaly—a once in a lifetime convergence of time and space.”

  “No, my sister Boomer is the only real warrior … not me,” Mollie said. “If anyone’s going to save the universe, or whatever, it’s her.” Mollie looked uncomfortable—even irritated.

  Elder Pauli listened to Mollie with an expression that said bullshit. Her eyes went from Mollie’s face to the enhancement shield on her forearm. Pauli touched it with an extended fingertip—a bemused smile crossed her lips.

  “I don’t even know how to use the thing. I should probably take it off.” Mollie moved to release the straps but stopped when Elder Pauli placed her hand upon hers, shaking her head no.

  Jason silently watched the interaction between the two and knew, at some deep level, Mollie would never be the same from this moment on. Somewhere deep inside, he felt sudden sadness pall his consciousness. Mollie, this child, could no longer be kept safe, ignorant, of those years of madness and violence he and Boomer endured. That kind of existence was never intended for Mollie. She was supposed to live a different kind of life: Protected … spared. What the older Blues priestess was now implying went against everything he wanted for this daughter. Is that selfish of me? Jason wondered. Probably. But right then—that very instant—all he wanted was for Pauli to stop talking, to shut the hell up and leave things alone.

  Jason was slow to realize that Elder Pauli had indeed stopped talking; that she and Mollie were now looking straight at him.

  “You think I don’t know what this means to you, Jason Reynolds? I do and I am sorry. I know loss and I know obligation. And we both know only you can make the decision that needs to be made here.”

  Jason continued staring at the blue-skinned woman, into her kind, empathetic, eyes. In that moment he became all too aware he was also responsible. He’d allowed Mollie to come along. Why? She was a sixteen-year-old college student and, most certainly, out of place here. Why on earth then had he permitted her to become part of this venture? Did he, at some unconscious level, recognize that she and Boomer had some kind of destiny to perform together?

  “I need to tell you where young Master Tahhrim Dol … Boomer … has set off to.” The elder’s face became serious. “I did not tell her … when she stood before me, as you do now, that she cannot defeat the Sahhrain leader … Lord Zintar Shakrim. That too has been written. She will die attempting to do so. It has been foreseen … I have seen it myself. Again … I am so very sorry.”

  Mollie’s eyes went wide as she looked from Elder Pauli to Jason.

  “You don’t know that! You underestimate the girl.” Jason was angry now and only wanted to leave this place. He needed to find Boomer.

  Elder Pauli pointed an aged finger at Mollie, her voice low and resolute: “But this one … she can.”

  Chapter 40 />
  Upon his return to the Parcical, Jason was informed by Orion of Boomer’s location and current predicament. That Leon and Hanna had taken the Stellar and were with her now. Jason couldn’t remember when he’d been more distracted. The words of the old woman, as if on perpetual replay, continued to haunt him: She will die attempting to do so. It has been foreseen … I have seen it myself. He tried to convince himself that the old sage’s visions weren’t written in stone … when, in fact, they actually had been.

  Jason, stepping out from the shower, toweled off and put on a clean spacer jumpsuit uniform. Looking in the mirror, he barely recognized the man looking back at him. His face was tight with stress and dark circles hung beneath his eyes, like old luggage. He hadn’t slept and he hadn’t eaten—sick with the burden of making decisions that contradicted everything he wanted. He was well aware he was at a tipping point—all too close to falling over an impending precipice. I need to get a grip. He was now being hailed.

  “Go for Captain. What is it, Gunny?”

  “You have an incoming communiqué. It’s Admiral Stark.”

  “Of course, it is. Well, I don’t have time for his bullshit—”

  “Cap … you need to take this. It’s evident he’s rallying the fleet.”

  “He’s an asshole and an idiot. I’ll be on the bridge in a few. Tell him he can either wait or I’ll contact him later.”

  “Copy that, Cap.” She cut the connection.

  He stood there, continuing to study himself in the mirror. He heard another hail coming in: “What!” he blurted out, before realizing who was calling. “I’m sorry, Dira. It’s been quite a morning.”

  “Sounds like it. You have a second … you know, to talk?”

  Jason knew what those words meant. The words seemed innocuous enough, but everyone knew can we talk was synonymous with I’m splitting up with you. You just don’t wish to come right out and, bluntly, say it. In that moment, Jason’s chest tightened, and he was even more conscious of the ever-approaching—inevitable—precipice.