Star Watch (13 page)

“Everyone ready?” he asked.

Chapter 17

Alchieves System

Pharlom Command Warship

_________________

In a white flash, Jason collectively phase-shifted his assault team into the Pharlom command ship. Ensuring they were all were accounted for, he turned his attention to their surroundings. Steam rose everywhere, making visibility difficult.

“What is this place, Cap?” Billy asked.

“Not sure. I do know the Pharloms have thick, mineral-based, epidermal layers. Like rock. Perhaps they need moisture … like some kind of wetting treatment so they don’t completely dry out.”

Jason noticed grittiness beneath his boots—as if he were walking on a layer of sand. The area was large—easily sixty to seventy feet square. Bench-like seating was built into the surrounding bulkheads. As he approached one of the bulkheads, he saw evenly spaced openings in the bench.

“Looks like you dropped us into the shitter, Cap,” Rizzo remarked humorously.

Chuckles came over the open channel from the rest of the team. Jason even heard Traveler grunt, which was as close to a chuckle as it got.

Jackson said, “Exit’s over here.” He waited for Jason, and together they moved through a wide corridor, which eventually led into an even wider one. The steam had dissipated and according to Jason’s HUD overlay they were close to the bridge. As he waited for the rest of his team to emerge from the steamy bathroom, a klaxon began to bellow.

“Looks like it’s show time,” Billy said.

“Yeah, so much for our element of surprise,” Jason replied, watching the movement of life-icons at the bottom of his HUD. In addition to showing their own team’s fourteen blue icons, no less than twenty alien icons could be seen, approaching them—five from the bridge and fifteen from the far end of the corridor.

“We’ve got the others, Cap,” Billy said. In a flash, half of Billy’s team phase-shifted away while he and four others headed on down the corridor.

Pharloms from the bridge were the first to enter the wide corridor. Jason wasn’t prepared for their size. Even taller than the rhinos, they moved surprisingly well, considering their hugeness. There was something unnerving about the grating sound they made as they moved forward, like large rocks being rubbed and scraped together.

Traveler and the three other rhino-warriors were the first to come into contact with the emerging Pharloms. Plasma fire erupted and Hangs to Ground took several energy bolts directly to his face. He went down, fast and hard. Jason raised his multi-gun, ready to take down the rhino’s attacker, but Traveler had already rushed forward, blocking his aim. With his large arm outstretched, winding around counterclockwise and gaining tremendous centrifugal force—the business end of Traveler’s heavy hammer connected with the Pharlom’s bowling ball-sized head, shattering it into a large puff of dust.

The corridor was now ablaze with plasma fire from all sides. Distant sounds of battle came from further away, where others of the assault team were also engaging the enemy.

Jason fired into the mid-section of an approaching Pharlom. Fracturing rock chips, the size of baseballs, broke away from the alien’s hulk, but didn’t seem to slow him down much. Soon, more Pharlom combatants found their way into the battle. From behind him, a massive, eight-fingered fist connected with Jason’s helmet. Even with the advanced Caldurian dampening technology built into his battle suit, Jason saw stars and staggered. Another blow, this one from the front, hit him below his chin. The force of the punch propelled him off his feet. He landed on his back, further down the corridor, and lost his hold on his multi-gun. From out of his peripheral vision he could see it, lying out of reach on the deck. The once seemingly large ship corridor now seemed small—packed with too many fighting combatants, each engaged in his own personal altercation. Two Pharloms towered over Jason, pointing their large plasma pistols at him. Reflexively, Jason raised and extended both arms. Plasma fire spewed from his battle suit’s integrated wrist guns. Without any conscious thought behind it, he aimed both guns toward their heads. He kept on firing until first one, and then the second, head blew apart.

“Shoot at their heads!” Jason yelled into the open channel.

“You just figuring that out now, Cap?” Billy replied.

Getting to his feet, Jason saw that the skirmish was coming to an end. Piles of rock chunks filled the space around him. In addition to Hangs to Ground, two of his assault team members were also down. According to Jason’s HUD, and their three still-active life-icons—each was injured … but still alive.

“Rizzo, you and the others guard the entrance. Billy and Traveler … you’re with me.” Jason moved toward the entrance to the bridge and saw that the hatch was securely closed. With a quick check of his ship overlay, he phase-shifted the three of them into the bridge.

They flashed into the very center of the near-circular bridge compartment, landing within the bright contours of a large holographic display. Jason saw a distorted partial image of the planet Trom displayed on Traveler’s back. The three took several steps forward, out of the flickering projection’s range, and took in the unconventional layout of the bridge. As if standing on a stage-in-the-round, the bridge officers and crew around them were situated in a circle.

Jason said, “Nobody move!”

According to a pop-up tag on his heads up display, sitting directly across from Jason was Grand Overseer Mangga. Billy and Traveler walked around the inside perimeter of the bridge consoles, ensuring that no one made any abrupt movements. Jason approached Mangga, who’d awkwardly risen to his feet. Mangga’s face was featureless, and Jason felt slightly cheated he couldn’t visually catch a shocked expression at their sudden presence.

An explosion of sound erupted behind him. Startled, Jason spun around to see Traveler lifting his heavy hammer away from a collapsed section of console. The Pharlom who’d been sitting at that station now lay on the deck, apparently unhurt. Traveler turned toward Jason. “He moved.”

Jason turned back toward Mangga. “I am Captain Jason Reynolds, of the Star Watch vessel
Minian
. You were warned, and now I’m commandeering your ship and placing you under ship arrest. You will issue an order of surrender to your fleet.”

The Grand Overseer began to speak, “Another will take my place … my Pharlom fleet is ten times the size of yours—”

Jason held up a hand, stopping Mangga mid-sentence. With two fingers up to his ear, Jason listened to Perkins, back on the
Minian,
relaying recent events in space.

“Captain, as soon as the
Minian
phase-shifted, the armada was attacked.”

Jason wasn’t in the least surprised to hear that. “Go on.”

“The space cannons took us by surprise; we’ve sustained moderate damage to three ships.”

“And the Pharlom fleet?”

“Apparently Bristol was working on something. I’m not really sure what.”

Bristol’s squeaky voice came on the line: “Captain, I hacked the cannons. It’s really not that complicated.”

“So what happened with the cannons? You do know I’m sort of in the middle of something here … right?”

“The cannons have been firing non-stop. They’re beasts, those things!”

“What the hell are you talking about, Bristol?”

“The Tromian cannons … they’re taking out Pharlom ships. I reprogrammed them. Hell, all the cannons in the system are on a rampage.”

“Well, stop them! Those weren’t my orders. I’ve got things under control here. Perkins, you still there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stand down and wait for my command. Keep an eye on Bristol.” Jason cut the connection and turned his attention back to the Grand Overseer. He let out a breath …
things were so much easier when you could just annihilate an enemy
.

“Cap!”

Jason turned toward Billy. He was pointing a finger in the direction of the large holographic display in the middle of the room.

Debris, like countless colossal meteors, was falling from numerous pummeled Pharlom warships, and beginning to strike Trom’s outer atmosphere. Bristol’s actions were, inadvertently, causing more damage to the planet than even the Pharloms intended.

Jason opened a new NanoCom connection. “Orion! Lock on and take out that debris.”

“I’m already on it, Captain.”

Jason heard the
Minian
’s powerful plasma weapon pounding away through the comms connection. “We definitely won’t be able to get them all. The planet’s already suffered substantial damage.”

Chapter 18

Alchieves System

Planet Trom, Cloud-Port E5926

_________________

Leon and Hanna moved from one barracks tent into another, doing their best to stay out of sight of any patrolling Pharlom guards. Good news for them, most of the Pharloms were now congregating outside for the evening festivities-where hordes of prisoners were gathered around a raging bonfire. Leon picked up his pace, seeing that dusk was quickly turning to night.

“We need to move it along … why are you dilly-dallying back there?” he whispered over his shoulder.

“I’m two steps behind you. What do you want me to do? Walk on your shoes?”

They reached the far-side opening in the tent closest to the main tent, sited about ten feet away from where they stood. As he pulled the fabric of the tent apart to peer out, the distant sounds of Pharlom activities grew louder. He looked both ways and, seeing it was clear, opened the flap of the tent wider. “You go across first … I’ll follow you.”

Hanna nodded, not looking particularly comfortable with the switch. She looked out, verified the coast was clear, and quickly darted across to the main tent’s opening, ten feet away. Ready to sprint across himself, Leon hesitated. Two armed Pharloms had come around the corner and were approaching. He saw Hanna’s pretty face peering back out from the flap on the main tent. She didn’t seem to notice the two Pharloms, which astounded him, since they weren’t exactly light footed.
If she makes any sudden movement, or opens the tent flap
—
she
’
s as good as dead
, he thought.

With the guards less than fifteen feet away, Hanna opened the tent flap several inches wider and stuck her head out. Leon bit his lip in frustration. She was probably curious to see what he was so interested in. The flap movement caught one guard’s attention and he reached for his holstered energy weapon. Leon cursed under his breath. He looked around for something substantial to use as a weapon. There was nothing. One of the guards disappeared into the tent, while the other, his weapon drawn, stood less than five feet away from Leon.

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.