Scrapyard Ship 7: Call to Battle (11 page)

“Be ready, Admiral Too … we move out first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, Supreme Commander. I will alert the fleet captains.”

The visual feed disappeared. Ot-Mul left the bridge, still feeling uneasy.
Why?
He should be elated at what he’d accomplished. Everything was coming together. Ot-Mul headed in the direction of the battle droids’ holding berth. Their small compartment had become his refuge … his sanctuary. He tried in earnest to avert his thoughts from Captain Reynolds. But soon the hatred he felt seethed and slithered up from the darkest recesses of his mind. The face of the repulsive human soon dominated his consciousness.
I’m coming for you, Captain Reynolds. First I will destroy all you care about, and then … only then … I will watch you die.

Chapter 15

Ricket could barely make out what was happening in the adjoining cell. The quasi-transparent, cube-like observation compartment distorted his view. He saw movement. More like wavering shapes than anything having real detail. He was sure that was no accident … it was all part of the intended psychological imprint this place made on its inhabitants.

Ricket sat cross-legged in his cell and stared at what was happening, he surmised, within an enclosure identical to his own. He was quite certain who was who. There were two shapes, one small and one large—Gaddy and the guardian. Although he hadn’t actually seen a shape other than Gaddy’s moving about within the cell, her voice—and later, her screams—were unmistakable. As for the guardian, Ricket had endured, first-hand, experiences with that most unpleasant alien being.

Three separate visits now—each one progressively more invasive—more painful. Aside from the guardian’s proclivity to cause pain, Ricket found the creature fascinating. Easily as large as a rhino-warrior, he was an interesting amalgamation of serpent and reptile. And then there was the smell. A strong, fishlike odor. Fish and something else …
chloride?

Thus far, their keepers were unaware of either Ricket’s, or Gaddy’s, internal nano-devices. Their inset devices had been their one saving grace. As the torture sessions began, both Gaddy and Ricket had come to the other’s aid; not physically, but emotionally. This, the two had worked out, allowed them to go into something akin to autopilot mode. The ability to turn inward and deal with the misery—misery that inevitably turned into extreme agony.

Now, listening through Gaddy’s open NanoCom channel, Ricket concentrated on what the guardian was asking her.

“And how did you return to Halimar? How did you skirt the thousands of warships that surrounded the Craing worlds?”

Calmly, Ricket told her exactly what to say:
A small shuttle. We weren’t
noticed.

Ricket listened to Gaddy’s raspy voice repeat his words. “A small shuttle. We weren’t noticed.”

Ricket let out a breath. Any mention of HAB 12 and their ability to move between
The Lilly
’s Zoo and the Craing world of Halimar could have dire consequences in the future.

The guardian’s frustration instigated a quick reaction and the progressive turning of a small dial. Frustrated with his lack of any real progress, the guardian resorted to a new variety of devices—each designed to produce the highest levels of pain, with minimum actual physiological damage. It made sense. The guardian wanted to extend his torment session timeframes as long as possible—a totally incapacitated prisoner, or worse, a dead one, would be of no use.

Ricket also experienced this particularly terrible device just hours earlier. He heard Gaddy scream out in pain as this same device, now attached to her toes, came alive. Red hot heat, indistinguishable from the sensation of an open flame, first blisters the soles of the feet, then the flesh begins to char, and exposed nerves start sending excruciating, white hot jolts of pain up the leg, and the body goes rigid—to the point leg bones are on the verge of shattering.

Ricket’s eyes filled with tears as he heard Gaddy’s heightened shrieks of pain. And then, finally, there was quiet.

Ricket heard the wet, lispy, voice of her tormenter say, “I want you to imagine something for me, Gaddy. I want you to imagine having a long life. Many more years. Imagine those years spent right here. Spent right here with me. Did you know my species has a remarkable lifespan? My father survived close to two thousand years. I am a mere three hundred years old, so I will be here long after you take your last breath. If you don’t start cooperating, we will be spending decades together … right here in this little cell. Understand, you will not be rescued … there is no hope of that. No one has ever escaped the confines of
Dreathlor prison barge
.”

Ricket continued to speak into Gaddy’s NanoCom,
Gaddy, we will be rescued. Nothing will stop Captain Reynolds from getting us out of here. We just need to hold on a little longer. Can you do that … can you hold on?

Ricket listened to the silence and wondered if he was making any impact at all on her, or if she was on the verge of giving the guardian everything he wanted. Then he saw her distorted shape rise up—her head looking up at the towering form standing before her. When she spoke again, her voice was weak and barely audible. “Has anyone ever told you … you smell like shit?”

* * *

Superintendent Gettling stood thirty feet above them on the catwalk and watched the Mollmol conduct his trade. In all the years he’d known Trancus, to his knowledge, he had never let a subject get under his slimy, black skin. And now there were two of them. Both, somehow, able to withstand anything and everything the guardian attempted. A part of Gettling took delight in seeing the foul creature bested. Gettling was basically ambivalent about the various methodologies used in acquiring information from Dreathlor’s populace. There was a place for torture. He, too, had been the harbinger of such practices for many years. But the Mollmol … he possessed a level of cruelty Gettling had never encountered. The creature was evil incarnate. There did not seem to be a separation between the heinous acts he performed, and the creature himself.

As if reading his thoughts, Trancus looked up and held Getting’s stare. The superintendent took one last inhalation of breathable air and descended the stairs.

Both Gettling and Trancus approached each other within the station. Gettling took the opportunity to observe the Craing male, the one named Nelmon. He was sitting at the middle point of his cell and looked to be no worse for wear. Certainly hadn’t the look of a prisoner who had been subjected to one solid week of unimaginable pain. Gettling turned and looked into the adjacent cell. The female, Gaddy. Although not looking quite as unaffected as the male, she too didn’t look particularly ill-treated. Was the Mollmol losing his touch? Perhaps he’d grown a conscience and had lightened his methods. No. One look at the brooding creature at his side and Gettling was assured it must be something else.

“Perhaps it’s time you took a short break. Let me bring in Drak. Although he’s not you, he’s always been quite effective pulling out information. It’s always best to mix things up, anyway.”

“No. That is not an option. I will be the one to break them. It is only a matter of time. There is something … I’m missing here.” Trancus tilted his large, snake-shaped head and turned back toward the Craing male, then turned toward the female. “It is almost as if …” He let the words hang as he came to some kind of conclusion. “We need to test for energy harmonics. Both of them need to be tested. I think they’re communicating with each other.”

Gettling let out a long breath and shook his head. “That’s impossible. That would have been detected on the transport ship over here. Anyway … that type of equipment does not reside on this vessel. We’re lucky to have flushable toilets on this old barge. But it’s more than that. Devices, such as the one you speak of, can be used against us. We have strict rules concerning the use of wireless devices.”

“Get me the energy harmonics detector and I will break these two within an hour.”

Gettling also knew the importance of achieving their interrogation goals. Hell, his position as Dreathlor prison supervisor could be at stake.

“It will take a few days, and only if one can be obtained on a nearby cruiser. In the meantime, try to be more effective.”

Gettling watched as Trancus moved purposely across the compartment and out into the Craing male’s holding cell. Gettling’s eyes fell to a wet swath of slime left behind on the deck plates.

Turning his attention to the Craing called Nelmon, Gettling watched the small Craing’s eyes. Those were not the eyes of someone fearing his captor. At that precise moment, Gettling realized he’d underestimated this one.

Chapter 16

It took Jason several minutes to track down the location of Admiral Pen. Ensign McBride relayed him the fact that he was back on his meganaught, along with Perkins. Apparently, the logistics of moving thousands of human and rhino prisoners, not to mention the relocating of just as many Craing crewmembers, was a colossal undertaking. And one, evidently, requiring his on-site supervision. Once Jason determined the Craing admiral was with Perkins, his XO, it was a simple matter of phase-shifting to their location, inside one of the ship’s larger mid-ship holds.

Typically, Jason discouraged the crew from phase-shifting into the confines of
The Lilly
, or any other U.S. ship. Even with safeguards, he always felt the risk, though small, of phase-shifting into a bulkhead, or on top of another person, wasn’t warranted. Today, though, he was ignoring his own regulations. He flashed into the meganaught’s hold, thirty feet away from Perkins and Admiral Pen. Both, startled, looked up at his sudden appearance. Jason took a quick look around the expansive space. He could park two
Lilly
’s in here and still have room to spare.

“Sorry to startle you, Admiral Pen. I require your assistance.”

“Not a problem, Captain Reynolds. We’re trying to figure out where to put everyone.”

“You’re putting people here … in this hold?”

“The Craing crew. There’s insufficient space within any of the other dreadnaughts. I suppose we will have to make do with a less than adequate solution … we will reconfigure this space accordingly.”

Admiral Pen’s attempt to guilt Jason into letting his Craing crew remain in their own quarters had not gone unnoticed. “Good. I’m sure you’ll make excellent use of this space. Listen, I need to locate a specific Craing vessel.”

“Here? One of my fleet ships?” Pen asked.

Jason was tempted to correct the Craing officer; the fleet ships were no longer Pen’s. “No, Admiral, it’s a prison barge.
Dreathlor prison barge
.”

The admiral’s expression turned serious. “Why would you want to find that old prison barge? No one goes near that vessel … at least, not willingly.”

“Nevertheless, can you help me locate it?”

Admiral Pen looked uncomfortable with the request. He looked at Perkins: “Can you continue on your own?”

“I think I can handle it,” Perkins said, nodding to Jason.

“We’ll need to return to the bridge,” Pen said. “It seems obvious we’ve been cut off, from proprietary fleet information, or from communications to Craing High Command. What I can get for you is
Dreathlor
’s last known coordinates. The AI should be able to piece together the vessel’s intended destination, as well as a best-guess estimate on her current whereabouts.”

“That sounds promising,” Jason said, feeling encouraged. “As for communications, we’ve been able to decipher Craing fleets’ interstellar communications for some time now.”

The Craing admiral looked surprised by this comment. “You can tap into fleet comms? Transmit as well?”

Jason nodded, and left it at that. He wasn’t ready to give him further information on what they could, and couldn’t, technically achieve.

Admiral Penn continued, “As I’m sure you are aware, very little time is actually spent traversing open space. Craing vessels, even the prison barge, will be en route to a loop wormhole. Tracking the prison barge, once it has entered the wormhole, will be far more problematic.”

“Understood,” Jason said. What the admiral didn’t know was that both
The Lilly
and the
Minian
were now equipped with a
probability matrix.
They would need very little information for the technology to work finding the prison barge. Jason wondered if this same technology had been implemented into their small barebones
Streamline
.

* * *

Jason’s next task was to assemble a small, effective, assault team. As he’d pointed out to his father, coming at the vessel with heavy, brute force would be more trouble, less effective, than going in covertly. Yes,
Dreathlor
had never been breached … but how many of its would-be assailants had phase-shift capability? From what Jason learned over the last few hours, the old prison barge, never modernized, was purposely kept low-tech. Its heavy, nearly indestructible outer hull and inner bulkheads were so thick even a multi-gun would be depleted of energy packs before causing any substantial damage. And the absence of anything wireless on board kept everything very old school. Thick, hardwired cables encased in thick metal constructs made unwelcome outside access virtually impossible. New, evidently, was not always better.

Jason, deciding on a ten-man team, phase-shifted back and forth from
The Lilly
to the
Minian
, then over to the Craing meganaught, and then back to
The Lilly
. So much for phase-shift safety concerns—but time was a factor. He wanted to speak with his new team one-on-one, and Jason made no attempt to hide the fact that their attempt to rescue Ricket and Gaddy could be a one-way trip. For that reason, the mission was one hundred percent voluntary. Billy and Rizzo were on board, no questions asked. Same with Lieutenant Grimes, who’d be piloting the
Starlight
, which was what they’d christened the
Streamline
’s replacement. Traveler had already made it clear to Jason he was going. That left Bristol. As difficult as the young crewmember could be, he was a technology genius and had gotten the crew of
The Lilly
out of more jams than Jason could count on two hands. Jason tracked him down to the
Minian
’s engineering section.