The Hidden Ship

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The Hidden Ship Page 18

by Mark Wayne McGinnis


  “Uh huh, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, not hiding the sarcasm. I turned my attention back on Vogthner. “Chancellor, it’s only a matter of time before new aerial reinforcements and more ground forces arrive here. Ultimately, this confrontation may have done more harm than good. The original plan was to take control of that habitat ship in space . . .”

  “Please. Let me bring you up to speed, Brian,” Vogthner interrupted. “All across this continent . . . this once great American country and, in fact, across the world, what was accomplished here today has already spread to every EMS station around the world. A good many of my counterparts, other chancellors of communications, have been apprised of their own upcoming fate. Humiliation . . . and death.” Vogthner gestured to his ear puck comms unit. “Also, the fate of so many thousands of our township marshals. That our decreed elimination was ordered by none other than his High Eminence, Overlord Skith himself.”

  I nodded. “That’s all well and good. I’m pleased that what happened here today helped save lives.”

  Karen took a step closer to the Chancellor, her face as serious as I’d ever seen it. Her eyes narrowed. I then realized the mistmaker—shoved into the waistband at the small of my back—was now firmly gripped in her right hand. She raised the weapon, leveling it toward the chancellor’s face.

  “There’s something you need to understand, right here and now, Chancellor. Or, so help me, I’ll fucking blow your head off without giving it a second thought.”

  Everyone went silent—the cluster of marshals, Gap captives, released Human prisoners, the Takebacks—everyone.

  “You’re a pompous ass. I never liked you, and you never had our best interests at heart. So don’t start playing the concerned comrade now.” Karen, taking another step forward, raised the muzzle higher, placing it against the chancellor’s chin. “You will not give orders. We will not allow one alien enslaver to take the place of another. I would sooner shoot you in the head right now and accept whatever fate befalls me.”

  “Just shoot the motherfucker!” came the voice of an elderly woman. I turned to see it was none other than Randy’s old mother. Somewhere along the line, she’d gotten a hold of a plasma rifle.

  I raised a steadying palm toward the Ma Kettle look alike. “Hold on, ma’am . . . don’t start making things any worse.” I then placed the same hand on Karen’s shoulder. “Shoot him if you want, I won’t try to stop you. Not after what you’ve lived through in that dome over there. But he just might be useful. Humans, standing alone, have already proven themselves incapable of defeating these alien Gaps.”

  Karen raised her chin, not looking back at me. Clearly, she really wanted to pull the trigger. Her voice, though softer now, was no less threatening: “There is only one person in charge here. The one person who had the spine, tenacity, and smarts to stand up to you aliens.” She then shot a quick glance toward me. “Brian Polk led this charge. So he is the one who makes any decisions. We trust him to have our best interests at heart. If he chooses to trust you, which I think is a big mistake, then we’ll all go along with it . . . for now.”

  I appreciated Karen’s faith in me as a leader, though I wasn’t sure I was the right man for the job. What started in Castle Rock was only a small town rebellion, not a worldwide uprising. But I wasn’t about to back out either. Not now, not ever.

  “Chancellor, I want you to think hard before you reply to Karen. We will not answer to you or your kind ever again. I’m inclined to reinforce that point by suggesting she pull the trigger,” I lied. I stepped closer to her side—we stared up at him, our intense gazes unfaltering.

  “You can aim that weapon elsewhere, miss. I do not wish to die today.”

  Karen shrugged a shoulder. “You’re not saying the words we need to hear.”

  “Brian Polk is in charge. I won’t presume to make any major decision without seeking his counsel. And that I promise you,” Vogthner vowed.

  Karen lowered the mistmaker and took a step back. The weapon was still pointed at his torso.

  “What would you have happen to my people?” the chancellor asked. “Perhaps eradicate them, like they did yours?”

  “Sounds good to me,” someone shouted from the crowd encircling us.

  “How many more of these dome things have you built?” someone else asked. “How about we teach you by using a little of your own medicine?”

  “The Gaps will have to find someplace else, another planet to call home,” I said. “Simple as that.”

  Vogthner shook his head. “And the marshals . . . and the other chancellors? You’ll be condemning the thousands living here to their deaths.”

  “Just like you planned to do to us!” Karen said, raising the mistmaker again.

  “Look,” I said, “we’re a long way from any kind of victory. Castle Rock is a mere spec of a town. There should be little expectation that what we’ve accomplished here can be accomplished anywhere else on the planet. So we’re talking hypotheticals. But one thing I can assure you of—what happened here today will spread like wildfire. The impossible shown to be possible. Humans . . . humanity, will rise up, take back what they have lost, or die trying. So my answer to you is this, Chancellor, on which side will your compatriots stand today? Because when all this is over, one way or another, we’ll remember who our friends are. Perhaps there will be a place for them, too.”

  Karen shook her head. “Oh, you’ll really need to fucking prove yourselves first . . . we’re not going to forget the interrogations, the tortures you inflicted on us. Your marshals were animals. There’ll be a heavy price to pay for that.”

  I noticed Jhally, standing on his crutches, along with the other two pilots, coming closer through the throngs of onlookers.

  Chancellor Vogthner didn’t answer right away. He made eye contact with his brother, Jhally, then looked down at Chiv. Next, he surveyed the crowd: Some were Earupitan, others were Human. Then he looked at Karen.

  “A phrase you Humans are fond of is . . . ‘I give you my word’ . . . I, too, like this phrase. We shared a similar phrase on my world of Blahn: ‘Without honor, Soul is adrift on a sea of conflict.’ I give you my word, and my sincere commitment, to help make things right again on Earth.”

  “Good, I suppose we’ll have to trust you to be honorable.” I said.

  I focused my attention back to Chiv. “Next up . . . you’re going to tell me who’s hiding inside these lander crafts of yours.”

  Chiv snickered, “I will never assist you. In fact, I would rather die than turn my back on His Eminence, Overlord Skith. Do what you will with me.”

  “So be it,” I said. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Dalm Mor Stroph. Don’t mind his unique size. He’s a real pussycat once you get to know him.”

  Chiv’s contemptuous expression quickly changed to that of fear when he noted the sheer size of the approaching Earupitan giant. His eyes then locked onto the bloodied appendage that Stroph still clasped in one clawed hand.

  chapter 34

  It was far from a real pummeling. Dalm Mar Stroph swung his makeshift club at Chiv no more than three times. The blows were inflicted on his head and upper body. Bloodied and whimpering, he yelled, “Stop! He’s killing me . . . Chancellor . . . Polk . . . tell him to stop!”

  Distracted, I watched as two hovering open-air troop carriers descended down from above. Neither was able to directly land within the compound itself due to the accumulation of dead bodies spread about the site. They ended up setting-down farther away, closer to the tree line. One carrier was packed with Human prisoners; the other with additional Earupitan ground forces. Once landed, the Gap soldiers looked bewildered, finding themselves quickly surrounded by armed Humans. The soldiers were forcibly escorted to the now re-energized holding pens, while the Humans onboard the other craft were freed. More than a few Humans were overcome with emotion. Karen went to console them and explain w
hat was going on.

  Thwack! Thwack!

  I turned back, finding General Chiv lying on his side, futilely attempting to curl into a fetal position—difficult, since both arms were bound behind his back. He was pleading for the giant to stop beating him with the dismembered arm. I gestured, my hand raised for Stroph to take a break. Kneeling down next to Chiv, I waited for him to glance up. His bloodied face was swollen.

  “Are you ready to have a discussion, General? Or should I let Dalm Mor Stroph continue? Seems he’s barely broken a sweat. I suspect he could keep swinging that torn-off arm at you all day, so what’s it going to be?”

  “Just tell him to stop. I’ll help you.”

  I waited several long beats, but when Chiv said nothing, I signaled Stroph to continue the beating. I had no sympathy for the alien—not considering his past crimes against humanity.

  “No! There is a command crew of five onboard each one of the Crushers,” he gasped out.

  I looked up to Vogthner. “Crusher?”

  “The large landing vessels. They’re referred to as Crushers.” Vogthner, now kneeling down beside me, handed me an ear puck. “I believe the individual command crews on each will follow the general’s orders.”

  Taking the ear puck from him, I held it several inches at the side of Chiv’s head. It immediately flew from my fingers, repositioning into place over the general’s ear. “Contact the command crews, General . . . tell them to stand down. Also tell them they are to report directly to me.”

  —————

  I left Chancellor Vogthner to deal with the arrival of thirteen HovT vehicles, carrying EMS marshals coming in from the Operations and Enforcement Center back in town. He had contacted them on an open channel—apprised them of the current state of affairs. I knew it would be a hard pill for some marshals to swallow, maybe even most. Hell, Humans had been little more than lap dogs to them for close to two years. Having to answer to Humans now would be tough. But those not doing so would face imprisonment, along with the military ground forces currently held within the electrified energy pens. I put Shawn McGee, a.k.a. Spartacus, in charge of shadowing Chancellor Vogthner. Assigned him to take note of everything the chancellor did and everything he said. Trust only went so far at this early stage of things.

  Jhally, Karen, the giant Stroph, and I headed off toward the farthest, and for the most part, undamaged Crusher craft. Reluctantly, Stroph left his now pretty much limp and useless club behind. I briefly considered bringing General Chiv along, too, then figured with his beaten face, the last thing I needed was the sympathy his looks might generate.

  As we climbed the gangway, I asked Jhally, “How familiar are you with these spacecraft? Their capabilities?”

  “Familiar enough. For the most part, their main purpose is handling the movement of troops from one spacecraft to another, or transporting them from a spacecraft down to the surface of a planet. The smaller Minis load capacity is about two hundred soldiers . . . the XL5 like this one, maybe four to six hundred. Not exactly sure. The vessels are relatively slow and not very maneuverable. Their weapon systems are fair, but—as you’ve witnessed—they don’t compare to what is on even one attacking Shredder.”

  We entered into what appeared to be a general purpose, no-frills hold area—a staging area for the deployment of troops. The deck held a series of metal grates. Alongside bulkheads were internal curved structural supports. They reminded me of an organism’s inner ribcage.

  “In your measurements, the vessel is about one hundred twenty feet long by about sixty feet in height. There are four levels above this one, which is Level 1. On Level 2, we’ll find barracks and a mess hall. Level 3 is the weapons’ deployment center . . . and aft, the drive access.”

  “And the top . . . Level 4?” I asked.

  Jhally said, “The bridge, what we call the Command Center, is at the prow. Farther aft are the officers’ quarters and recreational facilities.”

  Jhally led us across to two frill-less lifts. “After you,” he said. Once the four of us stood together on the marred, scuffed platform, he tapped on a side-mounted display and we quickly began to ascend.

  “Should we expect resistance from the command crew?” I asked.

  “I have no idea,” Jhally said. We left it at that.

  Twenty seconds later, arriving at the topmost level, we stepped off and into a narrow passageway. As with the hold area below us, and just like the lift, everything here looked merely functional. No frills, no paint, no unnecessary design attributes, and windowless. Hatch doors lined both sides; I assumed each one led into an officer’s quarters. Perhaps one was General Chiv’s? At the far end of the passageway I could see the open bridge.

  “Did you hear that?” Karen asked, leaning-in close to me and looking up. Scanning overhead were a myriad of pipes, cables, and ventilation ducts, plus all the other shit one might find within the darkened realms of an old spacecraft. Then I heard it, too. The unmistakable sound of tiny clawed feet scurrying across metal. I then caught fast movement out the corner of my eye—something, or things, running alongside the deck plates.

  “Ahh!” Stroph screamed, doing some kind of hopping around jig as if his feet were on fire. “Get them away from me! Ahh!”

  Three small, multi-legged creatures that weren’t insects—I noticed they actually had furry faces—but were not small animals either, not with those spidery appendages, scurried up and over the tops of the giant’s now dancing feet. They darted about him in tight circles—running this way and that—then, before he could accidentally crush one of them, they sprinted away. They made squeaking noises, which sounded an awful lot like high-pitched laughter. One by one, they disappeared from sight into a narrow bulkhead crevice some twenty feet away. Frantic, Stroph continued to look all about the deck, then scoured the recesses overhead. I already knew the big lizard wasn’t right in the head. I also knew I was partially responsible for that.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you!” Karen barked at Stroph, holding up a hand to her chest. “You scared the crap out of me . . . you big baby!” Annoyed, she looked over at me. “See? This is what happens when you shoot someone in the friggin’ head. You turned him into an idiot.”

  I ignored her. “What were those things?” I asked Jhally, who looked mildly bemused by the giant’s antics.

  “Gang Pits . . . harmless for the most part, although they do bite. Best to avoid them.”

  “Where did they come from?” Karen asked.

  Jhally shrugged. “We traveled to many worlds prior to reaching Earth. Stowaways, I believe you would call them? Yes?”

  “Hmm, do me a favor, Jhally. Once we are in the command center, close up that gangway below. In fact, make sure all the Crusher’s gangways are secured. Earth’s ecosystem can do without the addition of Gang Pits.”

  Using crutches, Jhally was the first to swing into the Command Center. I followed behind him with Karen and Stroph bringing up the rear. In the brief moment prior to being shot, I saw six beings waiting for us—their energy weapons aimed in our direction.

  chapter 35

  Even feeling the explosion of white-hot pain atop my left shoulder, my first inclination was to somehow protect Karen. I dove for her, attempting to tackle her down onto the deck—use my body as a shield—but she was already diving for cover herself. Exposed. I crashed onto the middle of the deck in full view of the armed bridge crew.

  Jhally yelled a command in Earupitan, probably something to the effect of: Hold your fire!

  I managed to rise to my knees. Got a whiff of burning flesh—my own. With a quick glance at my shoulder, I saw a scorched patch the size of a golf ball. More of a flesh wound than anything serious, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a son of a bitch.

  I looked up into the muzzles of six energy weapons, all pointed at my head.

  Jhally yelled out again, this time conveying a
more threatening tone. Still, their weapons still did not lower. Back and forth, raised voices continued shouting out—a standoff.

  Karen crawled to my side. “You’ve been hit, Brian.”

  “I know that.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes, it hurts like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Well, buck-up . . . this is no time to be a pussy. Um, I think you’re supposed to do something now.”

  I looked up. The command crew, all staring down at me, had indeed lowered their weapons.

  Jhally said, “They understand some English, but don’t speak it very well. You should probably climb to your feet now.”

  I slowly did so, taking in my surroundings. In contrast to the rest of the battered old ship, this bridge, or control center, was modern and ultra clean. It was also much larger than I expected it to be—maybe thirty feet long, narrowing a bit closer to the bow, and twenty-five feet across from port to starboard. Windowless, the bulkheads were lined with a myriad of advanced-looking technology. 3D virtual projections hovered around what looked to be various crew stations. Small lights flickered on and off at all console surfaces. Other than on the minimally appointed Shredder crafts, this was my first experience aboard a real spaceship. I probably looked a little wide-eyed and awestruck—sort of like a country bumpkin on his first trip into the city.

  Jhally spoke in slow, concise English, “Under the authority of General Chiv, you are to relinquish command of this vessel immediately. You, Captain . . . what is your name?”

  A uniformed crewmember, wearing a distinctive red sash draped from his shoulder to the opposite hip, said, “I am Captain Guart.”

  Stroph, taking a big step forward, forcibly yanked clutched rifles away from all the crewmembers. But the captain, taking a step backward, raised his weapon again. “General Chiv . . . he was under . . . ,” the captain searched for the right word, “duress. I do not surrender my vessel under such conditions.”

 

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