Jason nodded in assent.
“Hence, you are no longer privy to the same top secrets going on between Alliance and U.S. Fleet command. For instance, you were unaware that much of the outlying space surrounding Vanguard’s Breach had already been thoroughly mapped. A five-year undertaking—commissioned for just this kind of military predicament. Second, you also were unaware that key Alliance members agreed to send their own separate, dedicated, fleets here to help defend the Sol System. Warships unregistered with the Alliance, so they weren’t subject to, at least to the same extent, the Sommis of Adriark’s numerous virus attacks. They dispatched their warships with only one highly important caveat; that each district’s assigned Star Watch warship remain back within their home planetary systems … offering a last-ditch protection if the enemy prevailed.”
Jason felt a rise of heat around his collar, beads of perspiration forming on his brow. How could I possibly know about this when no one informed me?
“You … single-handedly … may have fractured the trust among our brethren Alliance members. As you can see, they have each done their part, at great risk to their own worlds. Now they are witnessing, first hand, five Star Watch assets returning to Sol … hiding out now behind Earth’s moon.”
Jason wanted to mention the simple fact that the five Star Watch assets had been infected with the virus—were no more capable of protecting their respective worlds than a broken-down freighter would have been. But he knew that wasn’t the point. The admiral was right. His actions had demonstrated bad faith. Now, studying the logistical feed, he briefly wondered how long those green icons would maintain their assigned positions. Would choose to defend this star system when their own worlds could very well be in peril next?
Chapter 47
Emperor Digby leaned all the way back in the padded captain’s chair, admiring the technological marvels around him. The ship’s bridge was aptly suitable for someone in his exalted position. Ignoring the prisoner near him, Digby kept him up on his feet, standing now to his left. He could sit down when he returned to his cell. It was infuriating enough that he’d needed the old Caldurian’s assistance so soon. Apparently, calling up an interchange wormhole required far greater skill levels than his new bridge crew was capable of handling.
“Any deviation from my orders, you die. I discover any kind of trickery … at all, you die. Do I make myself clear, Granger?”
“Perfectly. I assure you, the coordinates provided are correct. As ordered, the wormhole will put the Aquarius out in front of your fleet. But let me warn you again, calling up an interchange wormhole within Vanguard’s Breach is a very bad idea. Dangerous. Best you wait until you’re well within the Sol System—”
Digby waved him off. “If I want your opinion on such matters, Caldurian, I’ll ask for it.” Digby signaled the young knight, sitting at the helm. “Go ahead, call up the interchange wormhole, helmsman.”
Digby stared into open space for what seemed far too long. “What’s happening? Why is this taking so long?”
Granger clucked his tongue, a mocking gesture that made Digby want to kill the tall alien right then and there, then pointed his extended finger at the far right side of the wraparound display.
“Not everything in space is directly in front of you, Emperor. Sometimes you have to actually turn your head.”
True enough, Digby silently concurred. In the distance, a remarkable sight arose before them. What he knew to be called an interchange wormhole. A full spectrum of bright colors and subtle hues were now forming a ring in open space. “Take us in, helmsman … take us in!”
* * *
Commander Billy Hernandez hurried along the winding pathway—avoided glancing to the sheer cliffs rising left and right. What little light his combat suit’s helmet emitted was almost entirely absorbed in the night’s all-consuming darkness. The drop zone he’d selected for his Sharks to phase-shift to was a half-mile or so from the entrance to Bastille Spire. The landscape that surrounded the subterranean prison entrance, with its jagged rocky peaks and deep crevices, was some of the most difficult terrain to traverse that Billy had yet experienced. No doubt, the original architects, probably hundreds—if not thousands—of years earlier took that into account when selecting the site.
Billy had hand-selected seventy-five of his best Sharks for this mission. Although the castle, here in close proximity, appeared to be nearly deserted, the deep subterranean caverns of Bastille Spire were out of range for both the Jumelle’s and his own suit’s sensors. Right now, Billy wasn’t sure if any of the Aquarius’s crew still lived.
Upon reaching the entrance, a monumental wooden door loomed before him—easily three times his own height. Billy eyed the robust locking mechanism, then turned back to face the approaching Sharks. Their dark combat suits made them nearly invisible against the Cimmerian landscape. Only the light beam on their helmets, and the faint amber glow emitted through their visors, gave him some indication that they were indeed there, snaking their way forward along the path.
“That’s some door,” Master Sergeant Gillroy Blatt said. He fiddled with the lock, confirming it was secure, then pushed hard on the door, putting his substantial weight behind it.
“Stand back … I’ve got this,” Billy said. He raised his right forearm and fired off three consecutive plasma bolts—one above, one to the right, and one just below the locking mechanism. A second later, something heavily metallic clanged onto the rocky ground.
Billy kicked the lock hardware away as Blatt drove the heel of his boot into the lower part of the door. With a definitive crack, accompanied by sounds of wood splintering, the big door swung inward on rusty complaining hinges.
Billy studied his HUD readings. Still no new life-icons. “Hold positions,” he said into the open channel. With Blatt by his side, they took several steps into the open doorway of the mountain. In his helmet’s light beam—facing first left then right, then up and down—he could see that the voluminous space above seemed to be entirely hand-chiseled out.
“The excavation done here must have taken an army of workers … most likely slaves, many years to accomplish,” Blatt said as they approached a landing to a winding staircase. Billy leaned over and took in the spiraling series of steps descending into total darkness far below him. “These stairs could go down a mile.”
“Probably could,” Blatt agreed back.
“Well, I’m not taking them. Go get the Sharks and lead them down. I’ll meet you at the bottom.”
“You’re not doing what I think you’re doing, are you?”
“Just hurry it up,” Billy answered, while re-configuring his phase-shift HUD menu. In a blindingly white flash, in sharp contrast to the cavern’s near-total darkness, he was gone.
Billy selected a commonly used phase-shift function that would allow for line-of-sight jumps. He was sure using that option on such an uneven surface, such as long winding stairs down, was ill advised. His first phase-shift landed him almost one hundred feet further below. Stumbling somewhat, he clutched the curving wall to steady himself. That wasn’t so bad, he thought, and heard Blatt’s voice over the open channel:
“You still alive down there?”
“I’m fine. Just bring the Sharks.”
Billy stared down the darkening spiral then configured for the same line-of-sight jump phase-shift setting. This time, he landed completely off balance, somehow missing the tread on one step and sliding onto the one beneath. Teetering, he fell head-over-heels down twenty more steps. Although his combat suit padded the brunt of the fall, it was an unpleasant experience. Again, he heard Blatt’s voice in his helmet—this time there was amusement in his question, “Should we send a medic, Commander?”
“Fuck you, Blatt,” Billy exclaimed, climbing to his feet. He could hear more than a few chuckles and inwardly smiled. He’d forgotten about the open channel.
Taking far more care, phase-shifting in thirty-to-forty-foot increments only, Billy made it to the bottom of the long stairway
in fewer than ten minutes. He checked his HUD. Seventy-five green icons, all grouped together, were now one-third of the way down. Then he noticed a whole slew of icons, equally green, on the same ground level—far too many life icons to count.
He crept forward into the dank, inky darkness and realized he was within a series of massive conjoined caverns. As he moved within the open prison, he almost walked into an ancient-looking support column. Scanning the open space, he saw that they were all over the place—undoubtedly positioned here and there to help keep the weight of the mountain above from caving in on this—desolate hellhole. Some spaces seemed larger than others. It was obvious that there was zero ventilation down here. And there was a dark haze lingering several feet above the rock floor—a putrid cloud undoubtedly comprised of countless bodily expulsions—perspiration and any number of other gasses.
According to his HUD, most of the life forms there were lined along the outer perimeters. As he approached the first group, a huddled group of ten to fifteen people, he first thought they weren’t Star Watch crewmembers. Moaning, with faces blackened and equally blackened torn garments, they resembled gutter peasants. Arms reached out to him as he drew closer. Someone, a woman, began to weep loudly.
Billy, lowering down to one knee, said, “It’s okay … we’re here. We’re going to get everyone out.”
A raspy voice came out of the darkness. “Commander?”
“Who’s that?” Billy asked, maneuvering his helmet’s light, shining its beam across the squinting faces. Only then did he realize that the blackened garments were actually soiled, dark red, Star Watch uniforms.
“Commander … it’s me. Johnny Crocker.”
Billy played the light on him and recognized the young seaman, not aware he’d been transferred to the Aquarius. “We’re going to get—”
Crocker cut him off: “This place is totally wired with explosives! Saw them doing it yesterday … or maybe a few hours ago. Hard to judge time … I don’t really know for sure.”
Billy looked at Johnny, wondering if the seaman had imagined things. But his eyes were clear and, there crouched within the large group, he seemed to be in the best physical shape. He lifted the young man’s clasped arms and found them chained to a nearby vertical post. He set the HUD power levels on his integrated plasma guns to maximum.
“Move your feet out of the way, I’m going to cut you free.” Once clear, Billy shot a single plasma bolt at the chain, about six inches from Johnny’s wrist. His next shot hit the chain securing his wrists together.
Johnny flexed his arms. “Thank you, Commander.”
“I’m going to need your help, Seaman.”
“Anything … but I think we need to get out of here, sir.”
“I know we do.” Billy tugged his satchel’s shoulder strap around so that he could open it. Every Shark carried an identical satchel over his shoulder. Opening it, he withdrew a SuitPac device. He placed it in the seaman’s hand. “Initialize the combat suit, then repeat what I just did with the other prisoners. We need to get these people freed; out of here. Can you help me do that?”
“Aye, sir.”
* * *
It took another ten minutes for Billy to find the Omni. He was splayed out on the ground, only his thick silver hair distinguishing his identity from all the other prisoners. A quick check of his vitals told Billy he was still alive.
“What the hell took you so long? People are injured … undoubtedly dying down here.”
Billy only half-listened to the salty old sailor, who’d clearly been beaten—dried blood was caked over half his face. But there didn’t seem to be any bones broken. Billy removed his chains as he had done for dozens of others. All around him, he heard his Sharks in the process of freeing prisoners.
Billy handed the Omni an extra SuitPac device. “Take this, sir. We need to hurry; the cavern is wired to blow.”
The Omni cleared his throat and tried to stand. “How much time do we have?”
“All the timers we’ve found seem to be set to a different series of symbols … we don’t know what the hell they mean. Any attempt to deactivate any one of them could set the rest of them off … so best we get the hell out of Dodge … as quickly as possible.”
Suddenly, on the far side of the cavern—the first of many charges exploded. The concussive blast blew Billy and the Omni off their feet.
Chapter 48
Jason stared back at the guarded faces of the five Star Watch commanders. “The admiral’s right. I very well may have jeopardized the security of Sol … of Earth. I acted without knowing all the facts. I’ve also jeopardized your careers in the process. I’m truly sorry about that.” He looked down, feeling ashamed, momentarily at a loss for anything more to say.
“Bullshit! That’s all bullshit, Captain … with all due respect.”
Jason glanced up, noting it was Captain Grimes who’d spoken. She looked infuriated. The others were nodding their heads, wearing similar expressions.
Lieutenant Commander Polly said, “What good does it do anyone, sitting idly in open space in a district hundreds of light-years away? This is where the battle is going to take place. It’s not like the rest of the Alliance could possibly be saved if a final stand isn’t made right here.”
“Look … I appreciate your having my back. Honestly, I do. But I clearly acted impetuously. As you all probably know, I tend to do that. As of Admiral Mayweather’s most recent orders, I have been relieved of duty. And you’ve all been ordered to return to your designated districts. Only the Parcical and the Jumelle are approved to remain in this region of space.”
“Well, I’m staying,” Captain Grimes replied back flatly.
“Me too,” Lieutenant Commander Polly echoed.
The other three ship commanders confirmed they would be staying put also.
“Well … if that’s the case, we best come up with some viable plan,” Jason said.
“Captain, we’re being hailed by a quickly approaching vessel,” Ryan said, doing double duty now, covering both helm and comms.
“It is a Fantian Cutter,” Ricket said, “inbound from Liberty Station.”
“On screen,” Jason ordered.
The approaching vessel had seen far better days. Clearly damaged, much of its forward quarter was heavily scorched—obviously a participant in its share of space battles. It then occurred to Jason that Admiral Mayweather had few resources to draw upon, since the majority of registered warships within the U.S. fleet had been infected with the Ingress Virus. All other ships had been sent to Vanguard’s Breach to take part in the scheduled ambush.
Jason nodded toward Ryan.
Three large uniformed men, standing side by side and wearing matching crew cuts, appeared on a newly added feed. The middle one spoke: “Captain Reynolds, we have been ordered to take you into custody. You will lower your shields … allow us access into the Parcical’s flight bay.”
Jason hesitated before answering. “Sure, come on in …” The feed closed. He turned back to Ricket. “Let them in.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Jason studied the logistical feed. Enemy fleets were just now reaching the section where hidden Alliance fleets lay in wait. Unaware that Boomer had entered the bridge, he turned and found her standing by his side. “They can’t see them? All those Alliance warships just waiting there to ambush them?” she asked.
Ricket answered before Jason could, “Most likely not, Boomer. As the admiral pointed out earlier, the U.S. Fleet had prepared for that military contingency for quite some time. I believe the Alliance vessels now lying in wait have powered down, emitting similar characteristics of a small asteroid. They are blending in.”
Jason asked, “I want to see what’s going on. Can you provide up-close, bird’s-eye view visuals?”
“Yes, Captain,” Ricket said.
A series of ten new video feeds inserted into the forward mix pushed the Star Watch commander’s feeds, as well as the logistical feed, off to the side. Various per
spectives showed the enemy’s distant multiple fleets making their way across open space within Vanguard’s Breach. Meta-data text boxes, running on the bottom of each feed, indicated which feed came from which ship.
Jason glanced over his shoulder at the now relocated logistical feed on the wraparound. Presently, only the enemies’ small red icons, now three quarters of the way through, were showing.
“Well, if they’re going to do this … shouldn’t they get going?” Boomer asked.
As if on cue, one by one, small green icons came into view along the outskirts of Vanguard’s Breach. Next, the Alliance and U.S. ships’ video feeds came alive with explosive bright plasma fire. The battle had begun in earnest.
Hearing a commotion behind him, Jason spun his chair around to see the three crew-cut men—the admiral’s security force—attempting to enter the bridge. Boomer was holding them at bay, her enhancement shield extended before her.
“There’s no way you’re stepping one foot onto this bridge. You all need to go back to where you came from.”
The three men could be brothers, judging by their appearance. Jason guessed they were easily six-five, maybe six-six—each three hundred pounds of muscled brawn. They stared down at Boomer as if she were an inconsequential gnat.
“It’s okay, Boomer. You’re welcome to come on in, boys,” Jason said. “But I’m not leaving here until I see the outcome of the battle.”
The one in the middle again spoke, “Our orders are to take you into custody without delay.” He took a step forward, raising his arm in an attempt to shove Boomer aside. Instead, he dropped to the deck like a side of beef. A stunning blow. Green distortion waves momentarily lingered in the air before dissipating. Boomer stared up to the other two, one brow raised questioningly.
“As I said … come on in and take a seat,” Jason said, focusing his attention back on the wraparound display. Damn it! I should be in that battle. We all should.
Scrapyard LEGACY (Star Watch Book 6) Page 26