Jason glanced over to Ricket, who nodded appreciatively.
“What can we do, Security Commander … can it be repaired?”
Larkbadder was already shaking his head. “That’s where I’ve just come from. The anti-gravity generators are positioned around the periphery of the cloud-port. Ten of them, twenty feet down. Each one is encased in a protective vault that’s supposed to be impervious to all environmental mishaps, or even to enemy attacks. But the drive section of a falling spacecraft striking a generator was far and away more than anyone planned for.” Larkbadder pointed to a particularly dark plume of smoke rising into the air several miles away.
“Can the other generators compensate for the damaged one?” Ricket interjected.
“Well, that’s what they’re doing now … but the added strain is taking its toll. Soon, like you felt from that big drop, the other generators are going to give out.”
“How much time do we have?”
“It could be hours or it could be minutes.”
“Look, there’s thousands of people on this floating rock … I suppose we can try to squeeze them all onto our ship, and onto other vessels,” Jason said, not looking too confident.
“No, Captain … I don’t think we have enough time to do that. I suggest we move everyone onto the one remaining SkyTrans vessel. It needs a little maintenance, but it’s capable of staying airborne. And since it’s already prepped to take on passengers, we can get everyone on board much sooner.”
As if on cue, the ground began to shake again, then dropped several more feet. Jason felt a familiar quick-drop-in-an-elevator sensation and steadied himself. “I think you’re right, Commander; let’s get them on board that SkyTrans, ASAP. Is there any way to broadcast … like a PA system?”
Larkbadder looked toward a cluster of buildings, along the outskirts of the cloud-port. “Yes, but I’ll need to get up to that tower over there.”
Jason looked around out at the mass of bodies. This could easily turn ugly. The last thing they needed was a stampede. He needed every last man he had for crowd control. He turned and found Pike. “You, Mr. Pike, go with the security commander to the tower. Help him with whatever he needs.”
Leon looked down at Hanna with a worried expression.
Dira said, “I’m transferring her to the Minian now. Go … there’s nothing more you can do for her.”
Leon didn’t look particularly pleased but left with Larkbadder anyway.
“I want the Minian airborne within the next five minutes. There’s no way we’re going down with this rock.” Jason turned to Dira. “We need to transfer all the injured into the Minian’s hospital and use one of her holds for overflow.”
“I’m a step ahead of you, Captain. If you’ll make an exception to the no-phase-shifting-on-board-ship rule, we can start phase-shifting the injured over, using our crew in battle suits.”
“Yes, go ahead; do whatever needs to be done.”
“Captain.”
Jason was quickly getting overwhelmed. “Yes, what is it, Ricket?”
“Has anyone actually verified that that SkyTrans can stay aloft? I mean, if the cloud-port should start falling?”
Jason continued to stare down at Ricket until the booming voice of Larkbadder distracted him.
“Attention. Attention all Tromians. Soon you will be directed where to go. You will be leaving this cloud-port. Gather what belongings you have and stay together with your families. Standby for further notice.”
Billy was still communicating with the Minian as more and more of the crew, mostly military from the Minian’s barracks, but other crewmembers too, headed down forward and rear gangways.
“Okay, Cap … I need to get our Sharks in place for crowd control.”
“Go ahead. Let me know if you need me for anything,” Jason said. Rizzo was kneeling at Dira’s side and she was telling him to be careful as he gingerly slid two arms beneath Hanna and slowly stood. He nodded to Dira. A second later, in a white flash, they phase-shifted away.
“Captain?”
Jason looked down to see Ricket, staring up at him. “Oh … I’m sorry, Ricket. You were saying something about the SkyTrans?”
“Yes, are you certain it can actually stay aloft?”
“Why wouldn’t it be able to?”
Ricket pointed to the huge, dirt-colored, transport vehicle, stationed at the side of the cloud-port. Jason slightly turned his head. “Is it … tilting a bit … or is that my imagination?”
“Yes. It is somewhat off-kilter, Captain. I believe the constant, abrupt dropping and the numerous tremors have had an adverse affect on the SkyTrans’s mooring. Look, the SkyTrans is not actually aloft at the present moment; its entire weight is resting on the concourse.”
“That can’t be good,” Jason said. “What do you need from me … how can I help?”
“We need to inspect the vehicle’s cockpit, as soon as possible.”
Jason looked at the big transport engine and tried to guess where the cockpit might be.
“I’ve uploaded the SkyTrans’s schematics overlay onto our HUDs, Captain. I have the phase-shift coordinates already loaded,” Ricket said.
“Good. Take us on in, then, Ricket.”
* * *
Ricket phase-shifted them into a circular vestibule area on the second level. Jason didn’t know what he expected the inside of a SkyTrans to look like, but this wasn’t it. The transport engine had obviously been ridden hard for many years. Looking at his HUD’s translucent schematic overlay, he saw there were actually five levels, none much different from this one. Small porthole windows lined both sides of the expansive cabin, providing just enough light to see—but barely. The seats were metal, somewhat like aluminum. There were at least one hundred rows, crossing from port to starboard, segmented by wide aisles every ten seats or so. As he looked back toward the stern of the vessel, the seat rows seemed to go on forever.
The deck was littered with trash, and he imagined it didn’t smell all that great either. A single worn shoe lay at his feet.
“Captain, the cockpit is through here.”
Jason spun around, noticing Ricket was gone. They were close to the bow of the vessel and there was only one hatchway, located off to the side. Again, he heard Ricket’s voice.
“I think we have a problem, Captain.”
Jason moved through a narrow, almost tubular, corridor, entering what had to be the SkyTrans cockpit … or, more accurately, the bridge. It was wide, spanning the width of the vessel, but not very deep. Several consoles were positioned at the front of the compartment and the controls looked dated—mostly mechanical levers and switches. Ricket stood and immediately fell as the ship began to violently shake.
“What is it, Ricket?” Jason asked, heading over to him and helping him up to his feet.
Ricket pointed to a series of four-in-a-row meters. “We have no battery reserves, Captain. Getting the SkyTrans drives up and running will be impossible.”
“Batteries, like in an automobile?”
Ricket looked somewhat confused. “Similar … I suppose.”
“Then can we jump-start this old ship … like from the Minian?” Jason asked him.
Chapter 23
Dacci System
Planet Dacci, Glist Mining Crater AB14
_________________
Lord Vikor Shakrim stood with his hands on his hips, his cloak flapping in the steady, swirling updraft. He looked to the far horizon. The surface of Dacci was like no other world—its rich concentration of unique, many radioactive, minerals, one of a kind compounds, metals with bazaar magnetic properties, all contributed to a surface that glowed a ghostly blue—most noticeably in the early evenings, or, like now … in the early morning dawn. His mind turned to Admiral Reynolds … he’d come close to killing the Allied forces commander and he had to give the old human his due … he’d withstood incredible pain … both mentally and physically. Not to mention the humiliation—always an important, contributing factor
, to achieving optimum results. Had Shakrim gleaned all that he could from Reynolds? It was hard to say. One thing was for certain … the admiral was broken … and he would never be the same.
Below the metal catwalk on which he stood was a crater of unimaginable proportions. Too many miles across to see its far side with any real clarity, Lord Shakrim concentrated instead on the spiraling roadway that traversed the gapping orifice all the way down to its bottom. Machines moved and jittered about below at the crater’s furthest depth, looking more like small toys than the massive, earthmoving equipment they actually were.
“Glist.” He spoke the word out loud as he looked to the two thousand-year-old enhancement shield secured on his left forearm. Movement caught his eye. Big yellow containers, carrying the rare blue-glowing mineral, were now making their way up the steep, near vertical, rising and curving roadway. Even from this distance, the ore shimmered in the early morning light. The Sahhrain leader embraced feelings of exhilaration. An unadulterated spasm of power filled his consciousness, for it was this strange mineral compound, found only here in its purest form, and nowhere else in the universe, that would give him the ultimate potential for power. Blue Glist would propel his future far beyond even his wildest dreams. Dreams of spreading the darkness … for only with darkness could Rom Dasticon rise and take ahold within this realm. This was no fable deity or religious imagining, as so many even among the Sahhrain believed. Rom Dasticon was real—the true Sachem, and Lord Vikor Shakrim’s only master.
Unconsciously, he let his fingertips trail along the shield’s engraved contours. He felt the energy from the Glist pushing back, repelling his subtle touch. He uttered the word again, “Glist.”
Below, the steady procession of ascending container vehicles had stopped.
“What is the hold up?” Lord Shakrim asked, without looking at the group of nervous Dacci mining officials standing on either side of him on the catwalk.
“There … an empty container vehicle heading down into the crater … has apparently clipped the leading ascending container vehicle. It’s only a temporary jam-up, my Lord.”
Lord Shakrim let out a hot breath and turned toward the young Dacci man, who was naturally good-natured. His wide, green eyes stared hopefully toward Shakrim. Shakrim didn’t like being looked at by lesser beings. “You will do well to remove your gaze from me, Dacci imbecile.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“What is being done to alleviate the problem, Dacci? Minutes count. A delay here causes a delay in my enhancement shields being manufactured. That is unacceptable.”
“Soon, I promise, a repair team will arrive and evaluate the problem. Please be patient, my Lord Shakrim.”
“No … you, personally, will evaluate the problem.”
The Dacci man smiled apologetically and held out his hands, a gesture that conveyed there was nothing he could do here, so far above the accident thousands of feet below.
On the catwalk, a quiet hush befell those around Lord Shakrim as the Dacci man seemed magically lifted into the air—up off the catwalk—as though he were caught in a tractor beam. Shakrim adjusted the direction on his enhancement shield’s face and the Dacci man began to move outward, over the gaping mouth of the crater. As Lord Shakrim increased the shield’s power, the violet distortion emitted became more visible.
The Dacci man’s surprised murmurs turned to pleas for help, then changed to desperate screams. He flailed his arms and kicked, as if trying to gain purchase on some invisible step or ledge. Shakrim’s typically sour expression was now one of mild bemusement.
The Dacci man’s flailing eased some as he was lowered deeper into the crater, nearing the accident site. At five hundred feet above the container vehicles the Dacci man’s progress halted in mid-air. He looked up and found Lord Vikor Shakrim standing on the catwalk far above him. The Dacci man’s facial expression, just beginning to show hopefulness of a positive outcome, turned to grimaced bafflement.
With a casual gesture of his right hand, Shakrim pointed to a small, quickly moving hover truck, far below. An assessment crew had arrived.
At that same moment, realization struck the Dacci man—his services were no longer required. The violet distortion field faded into a mist … then was gone. The Dacci man dropped in silence … his body landing into the open container bin.
Lord Vikor Shakrim placed no further attention on the goings on below. He looked up and found several visible stars, and thought of his Sachem, Rom Dasticon, the most powerful force in the universe … though not this universe. His eyes roamed across the heavens above, as if he were looking for something specific. Which, abstractly, he was. Somewhere out there was the ship that would bring his Sachem forth—here, into this realm. The ancient writings foretold of this phenomenon; his visions, too, had shown it to be true. The vessel, called the Minian, would bring to him the Rom Dasticon from the farthest depths of the multiverse.
* * *
Boomer ran barefoot among the broken, eroding ruins within HAB 7. Her lungs burned and the ever-present gritty wind caused her eyes to sting and water. Gone was her spacer’s jumpsuit—gone was the set of small throwing knives she typically kept hidden. Today she wore the lightweight garments of the desert nomad. And today, she carried the weapon of the Tahli warrior: a smaller-sized enhancement shield, worn snugly on her left forearm.
Briar Mansfield was running next to her and Boomer was mustering everything she could to keep pace with this Kahill Callan master’s long fluid stride. “Use the shield to propel you; direct its energy down and backward, like this.” Briar’s own shield, which she’d reversed on her arm to face downward, moved back and forth, corresponding in cadence to her running stride. Boomer watched as Briar pulled far ahead, her strides easily twenty to thirty feet long. She soon circled around, running back to Boomer’s side.
“The shield uses, enhances, your own highly-focused thoughts,” Briar told her. “Thoughts have a vibration rate. You must talk to the shield … communicate with it … feel the vibrations moving back and forth between you and the shield. Remember, your shield is a part of you … not a separate thing.”
“Well, it’s not doing any of that crap for me. I think my shield is broken. I think you gave me a broken shield … that, or maybe this one’s just a stupid toy,” Boomer said, irritated.
The two slowed and came to a stop at what looked, to Boomer, like remains of a stone bridge, which abruptly ended over their heads, twenty feet up.
“What is this place?” Boomer asked, trying to catch her breath.
“It’s just an old aquifer. It once used to flow water to other parts of the city.”
“What happened to the city?”
“Thousands of years ago it was a beautiful place … a Shangri-La. It was destroyed during the third rising.”
“Third rising?”
“The Sahhrain’s third rising.”
“How many risings have they had?” Boomer asked.
“They are on their fifth … some fear that they won’t be defeated this time—that they’ve finally come into their own time.”
Boomer wasn’t sure she understood all Briar said, but nodded her head just the same.
“Here, give me your shield, Boomer … let me take a look at it.”
Boomer slid it off her arm, handing it over to Briar.
“You haven’t graced it yet.”
“What do you mean? Graced it?”
“When you put it on, or take it off … you thank it for its gifts … for the gifts it bestows on you.” Briar took the small shield and placed her own palm on its outer surface. “Shalla ka la rohlm.”
Boomer repeated Briar’s words, “Shalla ka la … rohlm?”
“That’s right. It means gratitude into the light.”
“You try it.” Briar handed it back.
Boomer smiled, placed her palm upon its surface, and feeling somewhat silly, said, “Shalla ka la rohlm.”
Had she just felt something? A tingle … an almost imperce
ptible electrical charge?
“You ready to go again?” Briar asked.
“I’m ready,” Boomer said, slipping the shield over her hand and onto her forearm. For sure, this time she did feel something. Boomer didn’t wait for Briar; she sprinted forward, along the worn path, trying to get at least some kind of head start. She positioned the shield face down and let it move back and forth, the way Briar had done. She reflected on her thoughts, being vibrations, and tried communicating, actually talking, to the shield. Her next stride took her completely by surprise: She’d leapt a twenty-foot distance in the blink of an eye.
Chapter 24
Alchieves System
SkyTrans Transport Vessel E911v, Planet Trom, Cloud-Port E5926
_________________
The cloud-port fell several more feet before jolting to a stop. Both Ricket and Jason were thrown to the deck.
“Would that work … using the Minian to recharge the batteries?” Jason asked.
“No, Captain … but that did give me another idea that has promise.”
Jason got to his feet and waited for Ricket to continue.
“The energy storage device this engine uses is dated technology … quite inefficient, really. The SkyTrans propulsion system utilizes one large ion drive. Hmm, I’ll need to manufacture a flash power source, in the Minian’s phase synthesizer … something that won’t take long to make.”
“Ricket, this cloud-port is about to fall. We have only minutes—”
“Yes, Captain. Please meet me in the engineering section of this vehicle … I will be there within seven minutes.” With that, Ricket closed his helmet’s visor and flashed away. Jason went to the port observation window and looked down at the concourse below. Large groups of people were moving into designated areas in front of the various SkyTrans loading ramps. He heard the voice of Security Commander Larkbadder broadcasting directives from the PA system. Jason looked directly across to the tall control tower, on the other side of the concourse, where he figured both Larkbadder and Leon Pike were probably standing at this moment. His thoughts went from Larkbadder to Leon, who seemed like a strange man. Not entirely unlikable and, if he was entirely honest with himself, he wasn’t so sure he’d have reacted any differently after being marooned on an alien planet for a year. So what to do with him? He had qualities that could be useful. And he knew this sector of space better than any of them.
Star Watch Page 13