Star Watch

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  He decided just thinking about what to do wasn’t getting anything accomplished. He moved from the folds of the tent flap out into the space between the tents, pulling the long stiletto from his back collar. He’d had success with this maneuver once before … why reinvent the wheel? Again, he observed where on the guard’s back the armored sections were gaping open. In the dim darkness it was more difficult to see just where the ridgelines on his rock-like skin were located, where Leon should stab him.

  Leon heard Hanna’s desperate pleading coming from inside the main tent. He stabbed the Pharlom guard in the back, applying the same slightly upward angle he’d used on board the Pharlom ship. The tip of his knife hit, what felt to him like solid rock, and stopped—he’d cleared the armor but missed the ridgeline. The Pharlom guard spun around with remarkable speed, his plasma weapon already pointed at Leon’s stomach.

  “What are you doing? Why are you here?” the gravelly-voiced guard asked.

  In that split second, something interesting occurred to Leon. His earlier assumption was right about Grand Overseer Mangga and the peculiar positioning of one eye. As with Mangga, there was the same tiny glistening—a miniscule amount of teardrop moisture—coming from an area one would expect to find the nose, on the large round head. Leon jabbed the knife up and forward, targeting the tiny glint of moisture. First the tip, then the whole stiletto blade, slid into the narrow orifice, like a sword into a scabbard, plunging into the Pharlom guard’s cranium. In a thunderous avalanche, the guard dropped to the ground.

  Leon rushed across. The Pharlom guard inside the tent appeared as dead as the one lying just outside. Dust swirled in the dim light as Hanna, still clutching their fought-over pipe in one hand, stood over the pile of rocks on the dirt floor. The guard’s head was shattered and there was something else. Several feet away, an elongated length of something quivered on the ground.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Leon asked, not able to take his eyes off it.

  Hanna, too, adjusting her torn clothes, was staring down at the castrated, though still-erect, member. “He was going to …” her words trailed off. Shrugging, she added, “It just snapped off when I hit it … I guess desperate moments require desperate actions.”

  “We have a similar saying where I come from,” Leon said, more than a little impressed with her resourcefulness. Looking at her, he said, “We need to keep going … come on.” He took her free hand and together they hurried further into the main tent.

  They passed by the same long tables when they were first admitted into the prison camp. Gone were the lines of prisoners, the guards, and the Pharloms seated at the tables. Off to the left, the front flaps of the tent were wide open and Leon saw several guards standing outside, their silhouettes black against the amber flames of the distant bonfire. They slowed, crouching low below the table tops. A man’s screams reverberated in the distance.

  True to Larkbadder’s word, there was another opening close by ahead. They approached slowly, keeping low to the ground; they could see inside that it definitely was a field communications depot. Two Pharloms sat in the darkened space—their heads and upper torsos illuminated in the console-display lights. What caught Leon’s full attention were the near-hysterical voices coming from the communications equipment. Apparently, the cavalry had indeed arrived and all hell was erupting above, in space. There was something garbled being said about fragmented ships … ships that were going to impact into Trom. One of the Pharloms got to his feet, knocking his large chair over in the process. Both Leon and Hanna backed away, taking cover as he scurried through the opening, then out the front entrance of the main tent. The lone Pharlom sat with his back to the opening. Leon considered the pipe in Hanna’s hand and the knife still held in his own. He gestured Hanna to stay put, and half-crouched, half-crawled into the confined space. Five or six different communication channels were currently broadcasting, all emitting tones of desperation. In their noise, Leon inched closer till he was right behind the seated Pharlom. He studied the broad exposed area directly below his head—not so much a neck—but not his shoulders either … here he easily spotted the distinct ridgeline on his rock-like skin. Holding the hilt of his knife in both hands Leon carefully positioned the tip of the blade and jammed it forward—he used the palm of his other hand to hammer the hilt of the knife and drove the blade all the way in. The body crumbled off the chair onto the floor.

  “Do you hear that?” Hanna asked.

  Leon, getting into the vacated chair, turned his head and listened. There were faint screams coming from outside, and the loud, still frantic, racket from the communications equipment. “What … what do you hear?”

  “Listen! One of those voices isn’t Pharlom.”

  He listened more carefully and heard that she was right. Somewhere mixed in the barrage of voices, a calm, pleasant voice was speaking. Hanna walked the length of the ten-foot-long console, coming to an abrupt stop at its far end. “It’s here … it’s coming from this station.”

  Leon tried to move his chair but gave up when he discovered how heavy it was. Both crouched low over the console, their faces mere inches from each other, as they tried to figure out the communications equipment in front of them.

  “Try this,” Hanna said, moving a big metal lever, better suited for gigantic Pharlom fingers. The voice went silent.

  “No, that turned it off,” Leon said. He then spotted what looked like an adjustable microphone, a grouping of switches and controls clustered nearby. He set the lever back the way it was and began selecting other controls, while speaking into the microphone. The third attempt did the trick.

  “Yes … I can hear you. My name is Ricket, of the Star Watch ship Minian. To whom am I speaking?”

  Leon and Hanna looked at each other, wide-eyed, and smiled. She pulled his face into hers and kissed him on the lips.

  Ricket’s voice was back. “Hello? Are you there?”

  “Yes! We’re here. We’re prisoners on Trom … at a camp located on one of the cloud-ports, actually.”

  “Listen to me carefully. A battle has ensued in Trom’s outer space. Fragments of destroyed ships are descending down toward Trom. What is your location?” Ricket asked.

  “I don’t know for sure—”

  A bright light outside the tent streamed into the dark communications depot. Thunder pounded overhead, then a fiery something tore through the top of the tent.

  The concussive explosion thrust Leon into the air and across the tent. The super-heated air around him seemed to suck in and then expand out in a great gale-force rush. The tent disintegrated into fiery embers that rose into the air like dust in the wind. He got to his hands and knees and looked around their surroundings. Everything was black—including his own clothes—his hands. It was then that he saw Hanna’s body, not far from where he’d been blown. He moved to her side and, as gently as possible, turned her onto her back. Her clothes were gone—had been completely blown away. He looked down at her once beautiful face and gasped. There was now very little left of it. He heard something coming from the blackened hole that was once her mouth … she was trying to say something.

  Chapter 19

  Alchieves System

  The Minian, Bridge

  _________________

  “Report, XO,” Jason said, hurrying back into the Minian’s bridge.

  Perkins stood up from the command chair and moved out of the way. “As you now know, Captain, while you were on the Pharlom command ship, our armada was attacked by four more warships. Three of our ships suffered minor damage, while another, a light cruiser, sustained considerable damage. Repair crews have been deployed. Captain, I want you to know, our response was intended to be measured … as ordered. But Bristol’s reprogramming of the Tromian space cannons changed all that. Multiple Pharlom ships were subsequently hit … destroyed … others badly damaged.”

  “So what’s the status of their fleet now?”

  “We know that the earlier orders from Grand Overseer M
angga to surrender were indeed relayed out to what remained of the fleet commanders … maybe out to twenty-five warships. But it seems most of those remaining fleet commanders are now operating autonomously—attacks are still occurring.”

  Ricket joined Perkins at his side. “Captain, the planet below is being bombarded by debris.” Ricket gave a sideways glance in the direction of Bristol, who was uncommonly quiet.

  Jason redirected his attention to Bristol, saying, “You sure screwed the pooch this time, Bristol.” For once, Bristol didn’t retort with a snarky reply.

  Orion turned in her seat. “I’ve got virtually every one of the Minian’s plasma cannons working overtime, Cap, but we still can’t take out all the ship debris; a lot of junk is making its way through Trom’s atmosphere, impacting on the surface.”

  “And one more thing, Captain,” Ricket said, “we’ve made contact with someone being held at one of the Pharlom prison camps. He’s asking to be rescued.”

  “How many prisoners?”

  “Comms went down suddenly in the middle of the conversation, Cap, but prior to that we found out thousands are being held on the same cloud-port he’s a prisoner on, but there are other cloud-ports and he suspects there are other camps,” Ricket said.

  “Cap, I’m gathering that information now … the locations of the other camps,” Orion said, working at her post, her back to him. She turned around, and added, “Okay … yes, here it is … there’s three other camps situated on separate cloud-ports. Apparently, the Pharloms haven’t done much with the planet itself. Other than the damage being incurred there from falling debris, there’s not much to worry about in that regard. The other thing, Cap … the Pharlom guards are still in control of the cloud-ports. They’re heavily armed and making a stand.”

  Jason thought for a moment. It looked like Billy’s Sharks, restless and needing something to do, were going to see some action. “Here’s what I want to happen. XO … have Billy phase-shift Shark teams out to the rest of the Pharlom fleet. I want the rest of their warships’ weapons permanently disabled.”

  “Aye, Cap.”

  “Also … let’s have Billy assign other Shark teams to take back the three cloud-ports. Tell him the Pharlom guards are heavily armed and trenched in for the long fight.”

  * * *

  Billy and his one hundred and forty-four Sharks phase-shifted to the cloud-port coordinates provided earlier by Rizzo. He had been held up on the Minian, meeting with Lieutenant Garret, who would be commanding the space-based assaults. Although there seemed to be minor residual resentment from both Billy’s kicking his ass in the ring, as well as Billy taking over his command of the Sharks, Garret seemed to be handling it—taking it in stride. If nothing else, he was a professional. Billy reviewed how he wanted Garret to use coordinated, synchronized phase-shifts into the enemy ships. Orion would provide the tactical drop locations. Garret was reminded of the Star Watch directive … this wasn’t about obliterating all life forms on the Pharlom ships. “Take control of the situation … neutralize the threat by disarming the enemy ships … then get out … that’s all.”

  Billy spoke over the open channel to his six teams: Lion, Tiger, Zebra, Bear, Cobra, and Rabbit. “Lion and Tiger, move off to the relative west, Zebra and Bear, east. Both teams be ready for flanking maneuvers on my command. Cobra and Rabbit … we’re in the middle. Go … everyone move!”

  Billy watched as the four teams of twenty-four split off in two directions and headed away toward the far sides of the cloud-port. “Let’s go,” he said, heading down the center of the concourse toward the mass of distant tents.

  Rizzo, Rabbit’s leader, joined Billy and his Cobras, matching his quick stride jog, step for step. Billy turned his head to look at Rizzo. “What’s wrong with you, team leader?”

  “Rabbit?”

  Billy smiled. “What?”

  “You did that on purpose … we’ve got lions, tigers, cobras, bears … and my team are the rabbits?”

  Billy’s reply was interrupted, “Incoming!”

  “Looks like four hovercraft en route. Each loaded with piles of rock,” Seaman Goodwin of Cobra team announced. The words had only just left his lips when a stream of plasma bolts from one of the hovercraft hit him straight on in the visor.

  “They’ve got mounted heavy guns on those crafts!” Rizzo said.

  Billy yelled for everyone to hit the ground. He looked over at Goodwin and then at his row of small life-icons on his HUD. Goodwin’s icon had turned light gray—he was dead.

  “Listen up,” Billy said, “those guns can breach our suits. We need to take them out first.” Billy suspected that their visors were the weakest link in their armor, and Goodwin was the unfortunate recipient of a very lucky shot.

  The four hovercraft had come to a stop about eighty yards away and he saw moving piles of rock jumping down from the open flat beds of the crafts and forming a line across the concourse—a line that would block any further progress toward the camp behind them.

  “Rabbit team … I’m setting your drop location twenty yards behind them. Be careful what you’re shooting at. We’ll have them in a crossfire … just remember, Cobra will be in your line of fire as well.” Billy gave Rizzo a nod.

  Rabbit team got to their feet and Billy used the group phase-shift function to shift them all at once.

  In a flash, the team disappeared and then reappeared on the other side of the Pharlom combatants. Almost immediately, Rabbit team engaged the enemy.

  “Move up, Cobras!” Billy yelled into the open channel. His team sprinted forward and when close enough, began firing at the clusters of rock-like guards.

  “These fuckers can take a licking,” Sergeant Jackson said, four men over from Billy.

  “Remember … head shots. Otherwise you’re just wasting your plasma.”

  Billy heard chuckles over his comms at that. Two more of Cobra team went down from their big guns. Both shot in the visor. “Take those guns, damn it!”

  The battle raged on for another five minutes. One by one, the Pharlom guards went down and their big hovercraft mounted plasma guns were captured. In the end, five Sharks were dead.

  “Teams report,” Billy said.

  “Lions and Tigers in position” … “Zebras and Bears in position.”

  “Be prepared to split your teams … phase-shifting to improve your positions.”

  Billy ordered his teams onto the flatbed hovercraft and together they flew off toward the front gate of the camp. As they approached, Billy saw more Pharlom guards standing in a line. It looked as though they had set up a perimeter around the inside of the fence.

  At forty yards out, Billy said, “Teams get ready … on my command.”

  He looked at the three other crafts, including his own. Four Sharks had taken up positions behind the large mounted plasma guns. They had to use two hands poised over a gargantuan trigger. Hovering several feet off the ground and moving at about thirty miles an hour—side by side, the hovercraft approached the camp’s front gate.

  “Take out the gate,” Billy ordered. “All teams attack … I repeat … all teams attack.”

  The four mounted guns came alive at once and the tall gate and nearby fencing blew apart. As his armada of flatbed hovercraft entered into the camp, Billy noticed something for the first time. There was a raised tower, built on stilts, at the center of the camp. Atop it was a substantially bigger plasma cannon and it was firing non-stop from its unimpeded vantage point.

  One to the left and one to the right, two hovercraft exploded in obliterating balls of fire—instantly killing no less than forty men.

  Billy, and every other Shark, jumped from the hovercraft and made for cover—which consisted primarily of the rock pile bodies of the dead Pharlom guards.

  “We’re not going to last long with that cannon up there, Billy,” Rizzo said. “I’m taking it out.”

  “Have at it … take Jackson with you.”

  Two flashes, one right after the other, and Rizzo a
nd Jackson were gone.

  Billy continued to fire his multi-gun at three Pharloms making slow but consistent forward progress in his direction. The tower cannon roared and more explosions erupted—this time off to the east. Hurry up, Rizzo … we’re losing good men here.

  The big gun went silent. Then, “Weapon neutralized,” came Rizzo’s voice on the open channel.

  It took another twenty minutes before the last of the Pharlom guards either died fighting or surrendered to the Sharks.

  Chapter 20

  Alchieves System

  The Minian, Bridge

  _________________

  Jason, via NanoCom, listened to Billy give his recount of the battle to take the cloud-port.

  “Good job, Billy. I know you lost some good men today, but you kept prisoner fatalities to a minimum. I’ll be down there in a few. Oh … and rest up. You’ve got three other cloud-ports to take later on today. Hopefully there’ll be fewer casualties.”

  Jason cut the connection and turned toward Orion. “Let’s set a heavy cruiser down on the cloud-port and work out viable means to start transferring prisoners back to the surface. We’ll take the Minian down to the cloud-port below and meet … what was the prisoner’s name?”

  “It’s Pike. Leon Pike, Captain,” Ricket said.

  “Fine. Let’s go meet Mr. Pike and liberate some prisoners.”

  * * *

  The gravity-defying cloud-port was immense … a mile or so wide and easily thirty miles in length. Earlier, Jason ordered McNeil, at the helm, to bring the Minian down onto the cloud-port’s open concourse. Billy and his team already had the camp secured and the surviving guards placed in custody. Dira and her team of doctors and medics were then dispatched to the scene. The cloud-port was still being hit pretty hard by falling debris and the prisoner death toll had risen into the hundreds.