His success centered around General Reynolds. Once Zintar had him firmly in his grasp—had appealed to the human’s weaknesses—namely his greed, not to mention jealousy, of his younger brother, Jason, the puzzle pieces started to come together.
Zintar’s one hesitation was still Rom Dasticon. He too was driven by greed and an ever-growing lust for greater power. He thought himself a god. Perhaps he was one. But just like the general, Dasticon’s emotions would eventually be his undoing. Zintar realized a long time ago that his own destiny was far more than being conqueror of the Dacci System, or the Sol System, or even the Alliance. Lord Zintar Shakrim was going to take Rom Dasticon’s place, as the master of realms, and become the most powerful living being in existence. This wasn’t ego … or need for unbridled power … it was something else entirely. It was destiny.
Zintar watched the right-hand side of the display as the cluster of bright-blue, glowing orbs—high-yield nuclear missiles—progressed toward their target.
“Two minutes to impact, my Lord,” Brakken said.
Zintar stifled a yawn. The destruction of the Blues’ space station was already a forgone conclusion. He moved on mentally to other pressing issues. His thoughts turned back to Rom Dasticon’s relentless pursuit of the four won effigies—the Goldwon, the Palwon, the Nordwon, and the Lortwon. Zintar knew that attaining the four wons wasn’t only a means for Dasticon to simply travel between realms, as he had so often exclaimed. Did Dasticon think him so naïve as to believe such nonsense? Zintar had spent the last five years in an almost scholarly pursuit, studying Dacci history. Of course there were the historical tablets, chiseled by the ancients themselves—which had been hand-written onto scrolls—maps—leading to the hidden won effigies. But additionally, he’d commissioned hundreds of archeological digs within Dacci space, but mostly on Harpaign’s Capital City, turning up incredible new finds—finds the Blues Council of One and even the self-serving Tahli ministry were not aware of. Sure, much was open to interpretation … but he was certain that it was the destiny of his people—the Sahhrain and himself—the true master of the realm—to take their rightful place as the guiding force of the galaxy.
“One minute, Lord Shakrim.”
Zintar’s eyes momentarily flashed to Brakken. Does he think I can’t track time myself? He quelled an urge to bark off an admonishment. He looked down into the lower section of the bridge and saw a console display providing a logistical representation of his fleet assets: Nearly eight thousand warships were evenly distributed around StarDome and the Star Watch fleet.
Even the Craing’s far-reaching influence across the galaxy did not compare to what was, inevitably, about to happen. He’d studied the Craing, too. Conniving, treacherous little bastards whose mistakes he vowed not to repeat when he pushed into distant systems, within multiple realms. Once the Caldurian warships were firmly under his control he’d have no need for Rom Dasticon’s help to move between realms. Their existing technology would take care of that. What possession of the four won effigies, he recently discovered, would provide was actually quite simple: Unification of the four wons allowed for the transcendence of time—the ability to come and go—not only into other multiverse realms, but into other timeframes as well. That is what so consumed Dasticon. As powerful as the demi-god was, others—such as Zintar, himself—would always attempt to snatch his power away. But the one who travelled between the constructs of time itself would be impossible to defeat. He’d have the ability to reset the playing field, whenever necessary.
The forward display changed to a new view. Zintar watched as the Parcical now approached from deep space. He hadn’t anticipated the vessel arriving prior to the destruction of StarDome. It could complicate things.
“Hail General Reynolds on the Taurus!” Zintar said, retaking his seat but not taking his eyes from the Parcical.
“Yes, Lord Shakrim.”
Zintar no sooner heard the general’s voice than the Parcical moved into an intercept position, coming between the StarDome and the inbound missiles. An array of weaponry—plasma cannons and rail guns—emerged from hidden compartments around the black hull and began firing all at once.
One by one, the glowing blue orbs faded from view—their missiles’ trajectories cut short.
General Brian Reynolds’ face appeared, looking sleepy-eyed on the split-screen display. He was wearing what appeared to be nighttime clothes—a bathrobe?
Lord Zintar’s voice echoed loudly around the bridge: “Destroy the Parcical! Do you hear me, General? I want your Star Watch fleet to engage the Parcical and destroy her—now!”
“That was not our agreement. There are Alliance personnel on board. Humans … innocent Blues … even Sahhrain—”
Zintar cut him off, “Isn’t there a human phrase, you’ve made your bed … now lie in it? You wanted power; command of the most powerful fleet in history? Well, this is the price you pay. Be wary I don’t order a command for the destruction of Earth. Now bring Star Watch fleet into the fight … destroy the Parcical and do so now!”
* * *
Brian stared back at Zintar’s distorted features. His eyes looked crazed and his over-sized lips were pulled back into a snarl. Brian nodded and cut the connection. This was not supposed to happen! He tapped at the input device and soon was looking at a logistical display. In the center was StarDome—thankfully, still in one piece. There were countless red icons, depicting the Sahhrain fleet’s multiple thousands of warships, sited around the periphery. Yellow icons represented Star Watch and his own vessel, the Taurus. Lastly, he found the Parcical, designated as a red icon enemy. Brian’s eyes stayed fixed on that singular icon and he froze. Could he really do it, now that the time had come? Could he give the order that would end the lives of all those on board the Parcical, perhaps hundreds? Could he really give the order that would end his brother’s life? Was he that person? That monster?
He hailed the bridge.
“Yes, Omni Reynolds.”
“Captain Logenes … rally the fleet. Destroy the Parcical. I repeat, destroy the Parcical!”
Brian watched the ship captain’s face and was taken aback by his apparent calm demeanor. Was the man an idiot? He’d just been given an order to destroy an Allied vessel. Undoubtedly, he had comrades … friends ... on board the Parcical. He should be outraged. Expected to comply with the order, there should be protest or anger.
“About that, General. A meeting was held between Star Watch captains while you slept. Captain … Omni … Jason Reynolds also attended the meeting.”
“Why wasn’t I informed? Rousted from my bed!”
“We’re siding with the Parcical. And with Omni Reynolds—true captain of Star Watch. You should be hearing someone at your hatch momentarily. You’re to be taken into custody and held until the Omni can deal with you, first hand.”
* * *
The Star Watch fleet did not move from its current position. Attempts to hail General Reynolds failed and Zintar’s heart sank in his chest. He had anticipated the possibility—old loyalties to Captain Reynolds might prevail within the fleet—but still, it was a setback. He only needed one Caldurian vessel to be left intact; maybe there would be several. Eight thousand warships were more than capable of bringing down one tiny fleet.
Lord Zintar Shakrim sat back and, without thought, pounded a heavy fist down onto his armrest, which crushed under the assault and tilted down at an odd angle. The bridge went quiet as all eyes went to him. “It’s time … it’s time for war. Commander Brakken, order the fleet to battle stations.”
Chapter 48
Mollie awoke to the sound of a wailing klaxon. She knew by its particular alarm cadence that the Parcical was now at battle stations. She hurried out of bed and checked the rest of the captain’s quarters, finding her father not there. Of course … he’d be on the bridge.
“Mollie … Mollie … Mollie—”
She spun, annoyed at hearing the repetitious calling of her name. “Geez! What is it, Teardrop?”
Her droid was hurrying toward her from down the corridor.
“I am being hailed.”
“Then answer it!”
“It is Dewdrop hailing … Dewdrop needs assistance.”
“What? Boomer’s droid? Where is she? Is Dewdrop here?”
“No, Dewdrop is on board the Taurus. Dewdrop is currently under attack and needs assistance.”
“Attacked by whom? What the hell are you talking about?”
“General Brian Reynolds. He is currently striking Dewdrop with a kitchen appliance.”
Mollie stared at Teardrop and wondered if her droid had totally lost it, was in need of some kind of maintenance. Why would Boomer’s droid be on the Taurus in the first place, and why didn’t it defend itself?
As if reading her mind, Teardrop continued, “General Reynolds is using a toaster and smashing it against Dewdrop’s head.”
“Well, tell it to defend itself! Right now!”
“That is not possible. Droids are programed to …”
Mollie held up a hand to cut Teardrop off: “I know … I know. They cannot take action against the one they’ve been assigned to.” She was finding it hard to think straight with the noisy racket overhead. The thought of her uncle harming a droid was ridiculous. He certainly had better things to do than beat up a droid—Boomer’s droid. But then again, from the bits and pieces she’d picked up, Uncle Brian had taken over her father’s job. He’s the Omni, he’d gotten what he wanted … so why is he having a … meltdown?
“Tell me what’s going on with battle stations?”
Mollie listened as Teardrop gave her a rundown of the events that occurred over the past thirty minutes—the missile attack on StarDome; the Parcical coming to the space station’s defense. And, Teardrop had added, a command by Captain Logenes, ordering the immediate arrest of her uncle. Since the Taurus was currently under attack by the Sahhrain fleet, he’d been confined to his quarters instead.
“We’re under attack by the Sahhrain fleet? You might have started with that, Teardrop,” she said, rushing back into her quarters. Finding her spacer’s jumpsuit lying on the deck, she hurriedly put it on. As she passed Teardrop in the corridor, she said, “Stay here!”
Mollie left the captain’s quarters, heading toward the nearby entrance to the bridge. Even before she’d reached the open hatchway, she found crewmembers frantically scurrying around. Once inside the bridge she glanced up at the feeds and noted too many enemy warships to count. One of the feeds showed a massive, bulbous-looking nearby warship that seemed to have hundreds of decks. It was like a city in space—many times larger than a fleet dreadnaught, or even a meganaught. Space was ablaze with brightly colored plasma fire. She watched as her father, sitting in the command chair, barked orders at both the helm and Gunny, seated at Tactical.
Orion yelled, “Shields down to seventy-six percent. Incoming barrages from multiple warships!”
Mollie had never seen a space battle like this one—and she’d witnessed plenty. She looked up at the logistical feed—what the Parcical was going up against was beyond impossible. So many ships! She found a cluster of yellow friendly icons, with the icon-tag Star Watch labeled above it. She squinted her eyes to better read the small print and found the Taurus was indeed among them.
She took a step forward, needing but a moment of her father’s time, or maybe just a few seconds. She caught Orion’s eye—her accompanying serious expression and the quick shaking of her head informed Mollie that now’s the absolute worst time to bother him.
She backed out from the bridge and returned to the captain’s quarters. Teardrop was waiting for her.
“What’s the status of Dewdrop?”
“Dewdrop has taken on substantial damage. Several key internal systems have gone off-line. I have instructed Dewdrop to phase-shift away.”
“That won’t work … also against its programming.” Mollie tried to come up with an alternative when an idea suddenly came to her—sometimes the simplest solution is the best solution. She directly hailed her uncle.
“What! What do you want?”
“Uncle Brian? Are you … okay?”
“Don’t you dare hail me, you little bitch. Who do you think you are? Have you forgotten I am the Omni of the U.S. Fleet? That I have important duties?” The NanoCom connection went dead.
It was clear Uncle Brian had totally lost it. All she’d done was infuriate him even more. She glanced over to Teardrop, who seemed miserable. Was it possible the droid was actually worried? Feeling an emotion? Yes. Mollie was certain that over the years both droids had somehow evolved. Nobody would probably believe her, but the two droids were far more than servos and memory packs. So how do I rescue Dewdrop during a horrific space battle? She had no idea. She also had no idea why it had become so important to her. Since, truth be told, it was only a droid. But it was Boomer’s droid. With that realization, she had to do something. She hailed Rizzo.
“A bit busy right now, goofball.”
“I need your help.”
“Uh huh … well, it’ll have to wait. I have a team of Sharks ready to phase-shift onto an enemy ship …”
“Fine! I’ll go by myself.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, barking off orders to someone near him.
“I’m phase-shifting into the Taurus. To save Dewdrop. I just thought you might want to know that.”
“Where …”
“It’s on the Taurus, our own ship, right? Five minutes and we’ll be back here.”
Mollie waited for a reply and nearly jumped out of her skin when Rizzo, wearing a combat suit, flashed into view, five feet away.
“I’ll give you three minutes. This is crazy and your father would f-ing kill me.”
“Oh, stop whining. He’ll probably be glad you finally grew a pair … took a little initiative, for once.”
His expression told her she’d probably gone too far with that last comment. Their flirty banter had elevated over the past few days. She’d have to watch herself.
“Where are we going?” he asked, in a less than friendly voice.
“Captain’s quarters on the Taurus. Can we go, already?” She looked at him expectantly. She didn’t remember how to set the phase-shift coordinates or she’d have gone by herself. She found her dangling SuitPac device and initiated her combat suit.
Mollie watched as Rizzo spent a moment with his HUD settings. He nodded at her, and together, they phase-shifted away.
In a flash, they found themselves standing in a nearly identical spot within the captain’s quarters of the Taurus. Mollie flinched, hearing a cacophony of loud metallic bangs and clatters. She ran into the kitchenette and found Dewdrop huddled on the floor. Her Uncle Brian, holding a dented, four-slice toaster over his head, slammed the appliance down onto the droid’s exposed back. He screamed something unintelligible and raised the toaster up for another blow.
Mollie leapt, grabbing Brian’s extended arm before he could strike the droid again.
His eyes widened in surprise, seeing Mollie’s face behind her visor. “Boomer! You bitch! You … you … unnatural spawn from hell! I’ll kill you … just as I killed your fucking droid!”
“I’m not Boomer! I’m Mollie!”
Brian, crazed with hatred and venom, struggled and jerked his arm free. He raised the toaster up and smacked it across the side of Mollie’s helmet. Although the impact didn’t physically hurt, she was hurt emotionally. She loved her uncle, never thought he’d be capable of hitting her. Not ever! For a moment she saw realization of what he’d done in his own eyes. The regret. But Rizzo by then was upon him. One punch to his face was all it took, and Uncle Brian was out cold, falling limply to the deck.
The ship jolted—once, twice, three times—and both Rizzo and Mollie were thrown to the deck. The Taurus had taken multiple direct hits. Flashing red lights joined the loud alarm klaxon.
“Taurus’s shields are down!” Rizzo said, two fingers up to an ear—a habit all crewmembers, having intern
al nano-devices, suffered from. “The bridge is gone … this ship is a goner.”
A hail was coming in on her own NanoCom … shit … “Go for …”
“What the hell are you doing over there?” her father screamed so loudly in her ear she cringed.
“Uncle Brian … he was killing Dewdrop.” The words even sounded lame to her. She could imagine how stupid they must sound to her father.
“Quiet, Mollie! I’ll deal with that later. Now that you’re there, you and Casanova can help evacuate the crew. Damn it all!”
Chapter 49
Boomer was aware of the suspended, gargantuan-sized, overhead rock more than ever. She wished it hadn’t been brought to her attention.
“You can do this,” Drom said.
Boomer didn’t reply, focusing her attention fully on the course ahead and the distant, protruding rock pedestal she needed to land on, while dodging multiple spears. The viewing droid had given her the most viable course of action. It had even spun and tilted, mimicking what Boomer’s gymnastics needed to look like. It could also be deceiving her—sending her instead to an early death. But she didn’t think that was the case. Again, it was in the best interest of all to have the wons retrieved.
“Hey … don’t overthink this. From what I know about you, that’s not how you’ve succeeded in the past.”
Drom was right. She was trying to hedge her bets with strategy when she was more a “fly by the seat of her pants” type person.
“It really smells in here.”
“Can someone shut her up?” Boomer asked. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Be quiet, Rogna,” Drom said.
Boomer (Star Watch Book 3) Page 26