The truth was, she’d noticed it too. The heavy smell had become overwhelming. It wasn’t that the odor was utterly horrible, for it was not—in fact it was sweet and spicy—like cinnamon.
“Hold on, Boomer,” Leon said, emerging from the darkness. “I’ve got life-form movement now showing on my HUD.”
That was all she needed to hear. Boomer leapt, because something inside her told her it was now or never. The growing smell, the hanging stone, and impossible course—if she waited even one more instant, she’d never go. She’d never acquire the next won effigy—hell, she’d probably be dead.
She used her shield to propel herself up high—higher than the two parallel walls—and held there for three seconds, just like the droid had done. She saw a blur of movement beneath her. No less than ten metal spear shafts shot out from the sides of both walls. She didn’t need to look at them to know there would be zero room for a body, albeit even her small one, between them.
Boomer flipped forward, letting her body free-fall down to near the rocky bottom of the course. Flattening herself, her hands outstretched before her like superman, she came to an abrupt stop then groaned under the strain. Although distortion waves kept her elevated, the position placed an ungodly strain on her arm and shoulder, keeping the rest of her body parallel above the ground. More spears crossed above her, one nicking her lower right calf. She wobbled and nearly lost her concentration.
“Go now!” Drom yelled, back at the start of the course.
She reached up her free arm, the one not holding her enhancement shield, and found a shaft. Grabbing it, she used it to lift herself up, then used the other shafts, like rungs of a ladder, to climb to the top-most shaft. Even now with both walls, and positioned within the last third of the course, she stood directly beneath the big rock.
Boomer mentally replayed the droid’s frenetic movements when it too reached this spot. Here would be the most difficult stretch—no way to avoid getting hit with one or more spears. The best she could do, just like the droid had done, was ensure that it was only a glancing blow. The droid had taken two hits, leaving visible gouges in its metallic plating, but helping to propel it forward.
The spear beneath her wobbled. No … the very ground around her was shaking.
“We’ve got company!” Leon yelled. She heard Rogna scream and the thump thump thump of plasma fire. Boomer stepped off from the shaft, half-turned, and saw a spear shoot toward her head. She brought her shield up in the nick of time, letting the spear hit the face of the shield at an angle, giving it a mere glancing blow. Immediately, she flipped backwards, and brought her legs in tight, forming her body into a tight ball. Two shafts shot out simultaneously—both razor sharp points meeting together—and, once again, they glanced off the face of her shield. She unfolded her body and, ushering forth distortion waves as powerful as she could muster in the opposite direction, came to a hovering stop.
She was mere feet from the end of the course. She’d made it! There, sitting atop a pedestal made of Glist, softly glowing, was the won effigy. Relief flowed through her entire being.
More screams filled the cavern as plasma fire erupted out from other positions. And distortion waves … Drom was using his enhancement shield. Then she saw it: Its huge ugly insectile head had risen above the wall to her right, and was looking directly at her. But Boomer wasn’t looking into the beast’s eyes—her attention was drawn to the flailing, frantic young Blues, seen hanging halfway out between large brown teeth.
Gain screamed, “Boomer!” She watched in horror as his body was released—more like flipped up into the air. In the blink of an eye, like a dragon’s breath, the beast spat out something. Only a pink cloud—a gooey, disgustingly heavy mist remained. Gain was gone.
Still hovering in the air above the course, Boomer instinctively turned her face away, as an acid-like splatter made contact with the skin on her upper back and neck. She shrieked in agony and fell forward. Her movement triggered the next set of spears to release, and she felt the first one enter her upper chest as a second one split open her upper left thigh. She hung suspended, four feet above the obstacle’s stone floor.
* * *
Less than a light-year away, also within the Dacci System, Mollie stopped in her tracks and gasped. She brought a hand to her chest and fell to her knees, feeling such terrible pain. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “Uhhh!” Then she saw Boomer and cried out, “Oh, God … Boomer … what have they done to you?”
Mollie was suddenly aware again of her surroundings—of flashing lights and loud, constantly blaring klaxon alarms—within the main corridor on Deck Five. Dozens of crewmembers were rushing by her on both sides. Several turned back to look at her but kept on running. She knew the Taurus was ready to blow. The ship’s antimatter containment field, located within Engineering, had been breached. They had mere minutes, if that, to get out.
She felt a hand on her back and saw Rizzo, crouched down next to her, holding Dewdrop’s limp form in his other arm. “What’s wrong with you? We’ve got to go … like right now!”
He juggled the droid, pulling her up to her feet. “The shuttles are filled. We’ll have to phase-shift back to the—”
“No!”
“What do you mean no?”
“Boomer … we have to get to Boomer.”
“We don’t even know where she is. Absolutely not, I’m getting you back to the Parcical.”
“She’s dying. Right this minute, she’s dying, Rizzo.”
Rizzo continued to stare at her. Then, as if he’d come to some sort of decision, he phase-shifted them both away.
Mollie was angry, furious when they flashed back into the Parcical. Then she recognized the ship’s distinctive flight bay. Flight bay?
As Rizzo let Dewdrop fall to the deck, Mollie reached out for it.
“Leave the fucking droid!” He pulled her by the arm and together they ran toward a grouping of fighters. “Up!” he yelled, when they reached a dark-red, two-man craft.
“This is my dad’s … Pacesetter.”
“He’s already going to kill me. May as well make it count,” Rizzo said, climbing the inset ladder rungs. By the time he was seated in the cockpit section behind Mollie, she had already initiated the fighter’s pre-flight operation. The drive roared to life and virtual HUDs popped into view.
Mollie looked through the canopy and saw other fighters, also pilotless fighter drones, blocking both flight bay entrances.
“Screw this!” Rizzo said. With a few setting changes he phase-shifted the Pacesetter out into open space.
She knew only enough about piloting a fighter to be dangerous, mostly bits and pieces picked up here and there, that she’d learned as a kid when on flying trips with her father. Still, part of her wanted to have the controls in her hands. It was her connection to Boomer.
Rizzo fired up the drive. “Sit back and enjoy the ride,” he said.
Blowing past three enemy gunships, Rizzo dodged left to avoid what looked like a large section of ship wreckage.
“You know where we’re supposed to be going?” Rizzo asked, behind her.
“I do. I don’t know how I know, but … I somehow do. A planet called Draggim.”
“Hang on then … this is going to be a wild ride,” Rizzo said.
Chapter 50
“Captain, three Vastma-class warships have joined the fight against the Scorpio,” Orion said.
Jason, standing next to Seaman Gordon at his comms console, was engaged in a yelling match. Gordon and Jason, each holding two fingers to his ear, were participating in individual, heated conversations.
“Listen to me, Stark. If you have any hope of saving your career, or not being locked in the brig for the rest of your pathetic life, I suggest you shut up and do exactly what I say.”
Gordon said, “No … the captain specifically requests fleet groups seven, eight, thirteen and twenty-one. He’s speaking to Admiral Stark now. The orders will … No, the general is no longer fleet Omni
…”
Jason’s eyes flashed from the logistical feed above them to the actual visual battle going on around them. The flashes of bright, colorful plasma bolts would appear beautiful to anyone not aware of the horrific death toll currently taking place. The Parcical shook violently. Jason stole a glance toward Sergeant Major Gail Stone, stationed at the helm: “Phase-shift us out of here!” he barked.
“That’s all we’ve been doing, Cap. We’re all phase-shifted out. Need thirty minutes’ time to regenerate,” she answered unapologetically back.
Jason’s eyes turned back to the logistical display and he zeroed in on the Scorpio. Things had changed since Gunny’s last update. There were now four Vastma-class warships combatting the Scorpio. Shit!
A voice kept droning on, over his NanoCom. The words ‘Star Watch’ brought him back to his still ongoing conversation with Admiral Stark. “Say that again!”
“I said, until I receive confirmation from the general himself …”
Jason cut him off. “Shut up … just shut the hell up!” He turned toward Orion. “Where’s my brother being held?”
“He’s here … in our brig.”
“Find Billy. Have him enter the general’s confinement cell. Have him convince Brian to transfer his Omni command back over to me and I don’t care what he has to do to get it. Brian needs to be on the horn to Stark within seconds. You understand what I’m saying?”
Orion turned toward her board. Ten seconds later, she nodded back to Jason. “He’s on it.”
Jason, seeing Bristol enter the bridge, asked him, “What can you do to get the phase-shift synthesizer back online?”
“Other than change the laws of physics … not much,” Bristol said.
Ricket joined Bristol’s side. They glanced at each other and Bristol said, “We have a few ideas. One in particular.”
“Go on.”
The Parcical shook. “Shields down to thirty percent,” Orion said.
“Our first idea, instead of going toe to toe … battling … the Sahhrain in open space, we start bringing the enemy ships directly into the Parcical’s MicroVault.”
“That’s an excellent idea!”
“No … it actually isn’t. Those Vastma-class warships are immense. We may be able to bring one of those fuckers into the vault, but all our power reserves would be eaten up in the process,” Bristol said.
“She’s being boarded. Crew on the Scorpio are abandoning ship, Cap,” Orion said, high stress evident in her voice.
“Tell the skipper he must ensure his vessel doesn’t fall into the enemy’s hands. At all costs.”
Jason felt the weight of those words as he turned back to Bristol and Ricket. “Say what your second idea is then … do so quickly.”
Ricket answered, “Use the Parcical’s MicroVault projector to move certain organisms from the vault directly into the enemy ships.”
Jason tried to fully concentrate on what Ricket suggested, but his connection with Admiral Stark was still open. He heard the Admiral’s voice, as though he were speaking to someone else.
Bristol continued saying, “There’s some particularly unpleasant species in the vault, of course miniaturized right now, Captain. But once projected to their full-size … they’re ones that will rampage throughout those Sahhrain ships, killing everything they come into contact with.
Admiral Stark was pleading, with whomever he was speaking to, presumably Brian, to reconsider his orders. “You can’t give in to them. Of course, I will … it’s just … Yes, Omni, I mean, General … Reynolds. I will speak to Captain Reynolds.”
An intense flash filled the bridge and, just as quickly, was gone. “The Scorpio exploded,” Orion said, her voice just above a whisper. The bridge went quiet.
Jason brought his full attention back to Bristol and Ricket. “We’re at war. A war that might last for years, and one we’re already losing. So do it … unleash the scourge of the galaxy into those damn ships. And I don’t care which vile beasts you unleash, do you understand?”
“Oh God … oh no …”
Jason, instantly uneasy about the dread in her voice, looked over to Orion and saw she was looking up toward the display—an expression of horror on her face.
Her eyes met his. “Cap … new incoming … toward StarDome.”
Jason followed her previous gaze toward the now center display feed. The space station, StarDome, a gleaming white embodiment of modern engineering along with provocative Dacci design elements that made this station not only functionally beyond anything within the sector, but beautiful as well.
Jason leaned forward on his toes as the faint blur of something blue came into view. The blur soon turned into individual, glimmering, pinpoints of light. Thousands of them.
“Nukes?” he asked.
She nodded, then, snapping out of her momentary paralysis, said, “Over a hundred Vastma-Class vessels unleashed a torrent of warheads … nothing can stop them. Too many.”
Jason watched the scene unfold. He swallowed hard, now resigned to the fact that there was nothing to be done. The bridge went quiet to where only sadness filled the space.
The flash filled the bridge, accompanied by a horrendously loud sound of objects hitting against their outside shields. All eyes were on the feed that had once been StarDome—which was now little more than space debris. Jason’s felt a tightening around his heart. Tens of thousands of lives had just been snuffed out. This was war, and they most definitely were losing.
* * *
Lord Zintar Shakrim went back to pacing the upper deck section of the bridge. He watched the battle raging on his forward display. Already, two thousand of his ships had been destroyed. Their Sahhrain losses, although staggering, were still manageable. He expected no less from that advanced little fleet of ships called Star Watch. A part of him was saddened by the ongoing destruction of such amazing technology. Even watching one Caldurian Master Class vessel destroyed was monumental—but seeing two was catastrophic. It was imperative that they boarded, and held, the rest of those ships. But to do that, they’d need Caldurian combat suits. Unlike his own, a gift from General Reynolds himself, they needed the newer ones, endowed with phase-shift capability. They had secured eight of the small devices—called SuitPacs—or something like that. Now, with fifteen amassed totally, mostly recovered from the dead seen floating about in space, Lord Shakrim gave the order to utilize them—infiltrate directly onto the enemy’s bridges. But easier said than done. It had taken hours to figure out the Heads-Up Display, and hours more for their scientists to work out how to phase-shift from one location to another. But, in the end, they did succeed. Zintar reveled at the importance of this moment. The moment when the Sahhrain acquired and used Caldurian phase-shift technology.
“We have taken our first ship!” Brakken said, looking up from below. He was beaming. A cheer went up around the command ship’s bridge. Zintar returned his second’s triumphant stare and nodded.
The humans had waited too long; had allowed their vessel, the one called the Sagittarius, to be boarded. They should have immediately self-destructed her. Her captain, over-confident, hadn’t anticipated such overwhelming numbers to flash onto his bridge. It wouldn’t be long now before the other ships, including the Parcical, would also fall. This was a good day. Indeed, a very good day for the Sahhrain.
Chapter 51
Boomer was well aware her left lung had been pierced. She was continuously coughing and spitting up blood, trying to support herself by holding on to the shaft with one hand. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her jaw clenched, she was somewhat aware of the loud voices around her, as well as that in her NanoCom—Leon’s.
Her mind flashed to Gain—writhing in pain and then, suddenly, vaporized right before her eyes. She hadn’t really gotten a good look at the insect beast … the rock burrower. What an odd creature. In the brief glimpse she did have—it looked to be made of rubber. Like a giant toy, made of something artificial—like silicone. Maybe that could explain why it
didn’t self-destruct from its own vile secretions.
She moved, and when a hot jolt of pain shot through her chest and shoulder, Boomer screamed out. She tried thinking of things, anything, to take her mind off the pain. The voices around her had morphed into a continuous droning.
“You can’t remain in that position forever, you know.” Who said that? Had she? Boomer opened her eyes and even that seemed to cause more pain. Mere feet in front of her shone the glowing blue won effigy. She could almost reach out and touch it—grab it—end this misery.
“Boomer!”
Her eyes moved over to the wall and she saw Drom’s legs. Did he climb the wall from the other side? No, he’d walked along the top edge, back where the course started from. Apparently, the top of the wall was not pressure sensitive, not considered a part of the course. He crouched down and Boomer could see his face. He looked awful, like he was going to do something stupid.
It came out as a croak. “Don’t do … anything,” Boomer uttered.
“I have to do something!”
“… Tell me … about the bugs?”
“Killed two of them but there are more … a lot more of them, according to Leon. We need to get you out of there now!”
“Wait.” She coughed up more blood, suddenly self-conscious how she must look to him. How disgusting she looked. “I’m so close … I can almost reach it. But this spike through my …” she couldn’t finish the sentence due to a fresh spasm of pain.
“Leon wants to cut the shaft with his plasma weapon. I’ll reach in and grab the—”
“No!”
“It’s the only way, Boomer,” Hanna said from the darkness beyond, her voice coming from farther away.
“The course knows my … exact … weight. The rock will fall. We can’t … chance it.”
Boomer felt light-headed. She’d lost a lot of blood. But Drom was right—something had to be done and soon, before she completely bled out.
Boomer (Star Watch Book 3) Page 27