Star Watch (20 page)

“Please sit there, Captain,” Aahil said, gesturing toward a space on the floor closer to the fire.

Jason, Boomer, and Billy sat together, while Aahil and Mansfield sat across from them.

“I’m sure you have many questions … and I will answer all of them. But first, we must drink hot Pandonian tea and let our minds quiet.”

Billy shot Jason a quick sideways glance but held his tongue. Jason’s eyes were on Mansfield. He’d trusted her with the safety, the very life, of his daughter. Her deception was far worse than that of Boomer—who’d, undoubtedly, been manipulated.

Two elderly women, wearing the loose-fitting robes of nomads, approached—one with a wooden tray, piled up with stacked bowls, the other carrying an ancient-looking kettle of some sort. Bowls were accepted all around and steaming tea was poured.

“You’re going to like this stuff,” Boomer said, holding her own cup out for filling.

The women left the way they’d come. Aahil raised his bowl, said words Jason didn’t understand and, curiously to him, they weren’t translated by his internal nano-devices. The nomad leader drank from his own bowl—closing his eyes and obviously enjoying the hot liquid.

Boomer elbowed her dad and said, “Drink … it’s rude not to.”

Jason did as told and sipped from his bowl. The fruit-tangy brew was delicious. He’d be hard pressed to come up with something that tasted any better. He took several more sips and found Aahil smiling at him.

“I’m glad you find Pandonian tea to your liking.”

Jason put his bowl down and looked across to the woman, seated on Aahil’s left. “Start talking, Mansfield. Who the hell are you?”

“This should be good,” Billy murmured under his breath. Jason saw he had an unlit stogie in his mouth.

“My name is not Mansfield. It is Capri Sharan … I am not a U.S. military petty officer … although there is a Petty Officer Mansfield in the U.S. military … and she’s currently on an extended vacation. I assure you, she is well and will be returning to her home base shortly.”

“So you’re an imposter … I put that together myself … but why? Why go to all this trouble and why with my daughter?”

It was Aahil who answered his question. “Do you really need to ask? Did you see your daughter sparring in the ruins? Did you see the way she moved, the way she anticipated her opponent’s actions?”

Jason nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“It’s been a mere few days since she began her training, Captain. She has already eclipsed the ability of the one training her.” Aahil hesitated long enough to give Capri an apologetic look. “Few students of this ancient martial arts can aspire to the level Boomer has already reached in a few days. It’s as if she’s once again remembering something familiar rather than learning something new.”

“Why her? Sure, she’s a natural warrior, but that’s not news to me.”

“Anyone can learn to fight … to battle, Captain. She has powers that go well beyond anything you can imagine.”

Jason looked down at his daughter, who was now playing with her bowl … uncomfortable with the conversation. “Boomer is an amazing child, but she should be allowed to be just that … a ten-year-old girl.”

“Not with such high stakes looming, Captain. Please … let us talk of the Sahhrain—specifically, the one named Shakrim … Lord Vikor Shakrim.”

“I already know about the Sahhrain … we’re in the process of taking them on next, now that the Pharloms have been successfully dealt with.”

“Captain, the Sahhrain are not the same foe as the Pharloms, or the Craing, or any other alien species you’ve come into contact with. You see … they are misery incarnate. They live to replace light with pain and darkness. Their rise has been foretold … this is their time. And they have a leader who, all too soon, might be far too powerful for anyone to defeat.”

“Anyone can be defeated,” Billy said. “Many thought the Craing undefeatable. Look at them now.”

“As I said, Lieutenant Commander Hernandez, the Sahhrain are not the Craing … warships and advanced technology will not be enough. Not entirely, anyway.”

“Where does my daughter fit in with all this?” Jason asked.

“The time will come when she must stand before Lord Vikor Shakrim … it has been foretold.”

Jason shook his head and snickered. “That’s not going to happen. I don’t care what kind of powers you think she has … she’s ten!”

“Almost eleven,” Boomer said back, as if that would change everything.

The elderly woman was back, refilling Jason’s and Billy’s bowls. He took another sip, then nearly spat the hot liquid out. Instead he swallowed and felt he was about to be sick. “What was that?”

“Tastes rank, huh?” Boomer asked, nodding her head.

Jason looked about him, noticing there were now others in the room. More nomads—most looking as ancient as the ruins they were all seated in.

“This gathering is the Council of One. The Elders of the Blues.”

Jason noticed all the Elders had a slight bluish tinge to their skin. Same with Aahil … but not Capri Sharan. His mind was becoming foggy—the room beginning to spin. He saw Billy flop backwards, onto a large pillow, his cigar dropping to the rug. Then Jason felt himself fall—falling—falling into darkness.

He found himself awake, standing amongst many others. A battle of epic proportions was being fought all around him. Strange beings, wearing partial battle suits, were holding spears and small shields, like Boomer and Mansfield had worn earlier. Their hair was coarse, worn in a peculiar cone-shaped bun—pointed upward and back. The air was filled with ozone, and bright violet waves of distortion came from virtually every direction. Dead men … men with blue-toned skin lay motionless at Jason’s feet.

The sounds of battle came alive in his ears: screams of agony; the sounds of spears puncturing flesh—and an ever-present humming sound emanated from energy shields. The Blues were being massacred. Although they too possessed similar energy shields, the Blues weren’t a match for the larger, more powerful, Sahhrain.

Jason realized he knew who they were—who all of them were, and why they were fighting. The Blues fought for their very existence—the right to live—while the Sahhrain only fought
for their leader, for the honor of serving their lord. Jason reached for a spear on the ground, wanting to help stop the maniacal beasts. But his hands moved through the spear, as if it were made of air. He was
there
but not really there.

The last of the Blues were vanquished—a massacre taking place right before his eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop it—stop the outcome, fatal to so many thousands of these blue-skinned men. Their bodies were still warm; steam, coursing off their dead flesh, rose in the air, as the corpses piled up on the battlefield.

A procession approached him from up ahead. A group of Sahhrain soldiers marched in his direction, in double-row formation. They halted and separated, widening the space between the two rows. In the distance, Jason caught a reflection of polished gold and bright scarlet. The Sahhrain leader hurried forward, moving between the double ranks of soldiers.

More than Jason’s height, he was easily seven feet tall. More than his obvious strength and prowess, the Sahhrain leader emitted a marked sense of confidence. Similar to what Jason had experienced in the past, with an alien species called the Mau—he was filled with dread and despair.

Jason turned to see more Sahhrain soldiers approaching from behind. Two of them held one of the surviving Blues, by his arms. He knew, somehow, that this was the Blues’ leader. Jason moved to get out of the way but found they’d walked right through him—as if he weren’t there. Which, apparently, he wasn’t.

The Blues’ leader was brought before the Sahhrain leader … his own image reflected back in the polished gold breastplate, two feet in front of him. His arms were released and he staggered to stay upright.

Jason’s realizations continued. He knew just where he was and who the Sahhrain leader was: it was Lord Moch Righ, and he was witnessing something that had happened hundreds of years earlier.

The leader of the Blues was up in the air now—both hands clutched at his throat—as though trying to unleash himself from an invisible stranglehold. His feet kicked wildly as muffled, agonized, and choking sounds filled the air. But Lord Moch Righ was not looking at the dying Blues’ leader—he was staring directly at Jason.

Jason woke up.

Aahil was now seated at his side. “Captain Reynolds, what you witnessed—”

Jason cut him off, “I know what I witnessed. At least, what I
think
I witnessed.”

“Lord Moch Righ lived four hundred years ago. He was powerful, nearly vanquishing an entire race of people … my people.”

“Then he was defeated?”

Aahil slowly nodded. “At great cost to the Blues. We were saved by a master of
Kahill Callan
… a Blue, with unparalleled strength, who defeated Lord Moch Righ in a daylong battle.”

“Who was he?”

“She … someone named Uma … Uma Carice.”

Jason realized Boomer was now sitting at his other side. She took his hand in hers.

“I need to do this, Dad.”

Jason wanted to discard what she was saying outright, but he couldn’t. “I suspect you do … but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Chapter 29

Alchieves System

The
Minian
, Captain’s Ready Room

_________________

Jason made the decision to bring the
Minian
within three light-years of the
Assailant
’s last interchange wormhole coordinates. Not entirely sure if the distance proved far enough away for them to avoid the same fate that befell his father’s small armada, but waiting around … doing nothing, in light of recent developments and the new insights given him, made the risk not only worthwhile, but advisable and imperative.

Although the Pharloms had been dealt with—sent back to where they’d come from … Trom would still require their protection until more Alliance forces could arrive, with a more quasi-permanent contingent. Jason decided to split up his armada of twelve warships. He’d leave six on Trom, and take six with the
Minian
. They could rejoin with his half of the Star Watch armada later.

Jason paced the deck of his ready room, his unsettled thoughts probing—first on his missing, probably deceased, father. Then on to that perpetrator of darkness, Lord Vikor Shakrim; then on to his own daughter, Boomer, who, as preposterous as it seemed, especially to him, would someday go up against that very same evil.

How could he allow that? How could he put the weight of so much on Boomer’s small shoulders? And what were the chances that the
Minian
’s
small armada could stop the progression of the Sahhrain forces? He needed to approach their options from multiple directions. He checked the time—1500 hours. It was time.

Ricket was the first to arrive and take a seat. Jason took a seat next to him at the head of the table. The rest streamed in, also taking seats. Jason looked around the table at Billy and Orion; his XO, Perkins; Dira and Rizzo; the commander of his top-gun fighter pilots, Lieutenant Commander Grimes; the Caldurian, Granger; Bristol and Hanna; Leon Pike; and, sitting to his right, Boomer. The last person to enter the compartment and sit was Capri Sharan.

Capri’s invite was the last one he’d issued, and Jason still wasn’t completely confident in his decision to include her here, among his core team’s ranks. In the end, he knew he had little choice in the matter. She was the go-between person for Prince Aahil Aqeel and Jason’s Star Watch force. He’d just have to get over what was, in his mind, her deceit and treachery.

“Thank you, everyone,” said Jason, “for coming at such short notice. Look around … this is our core leadership team … those who have been selected to go against the Sahhrain, and its leader, Lord Vikor Shakrim, before there’s the necessity of all-out war. One of the directives of Star Watch is to help avoid getting the Alliance into another long, drawn-out, engagement … another horrific war.”

Leon held up a hand.

“What is it, Mr. Pike?”

“No offense, sir … but my plans don’t include sticking around here. I’m sorry, but I have a ship to get back to. I have a life of my own.”

“Nobody’s going to force you to stay, Mr. Pike. But I’m hoping that your plans will change … some of you still have a need to know what others in here already know.”

On cue, three people entered the ready room: Prince Aahil Aqeel, and the same two elderly women—one carrying stacked bowls, the other a hot, steaming kettle.

“This is Prince Aahil Aqeel, for those not aware of who he is. In several moments you will know more, know who this man is, and know what we’re truly up against. I suspect each of you will have your own unique experience.”

Jason watched as all the bowls were passed around the table, and the mysterious hot liquid was poured into each. Confused faces first looked down at the steamy bowls of liquid set before them, then over at Jason. “Drink up.”

* * *

With the exception of Jason, Boomer, Billy, Capri, and Aahil, everyone else was out cold, their heads resting on the table in front of them.

Aahil remained standing, leaning against a bulkhead. He’d dismissed the two nomad women earlier. For a moment, Jason and Aahil held each other’s stare.

Boomer tugged on Jason’s sleeve. He leaned over so she could whisper into his ear.

“Grandpa is still alive.”

“How … how do you know that?”

“Petty Officer … oops, Capri—told me right before we came in here. She said the prince knows where he’s being held.”

Jason didn’t know whether the news was factual or not, but even the chance of it being true struck him hard. He blinked away the moisture welling up in his eyes and smiled. “I hope that is true, little one.”

Dira stirred—wiggled her nose and opened her eyes. She sat upright and looked toward Jason. Concern creased her brow. He wondered what she’d just experienced … what vision she’d seen? He wanted to reach across the table, take her hands in his. More, he wanted to hold her in his arms and bring her close. Looking at her—her amazing, beautiful face … Jason wondered how he’d been so fortunate to deserve her love. Her lips parted, as if poised to say something, then closed.