Star Watch (28 page)

Leon and Rizzo left Propulsion. Leon headed up the ramp; the level one hatchway opened as he approached. Curious to see what else they’d done to his ship, he made his way forward toward the bow. The bridge interior was approximately the size of two side-by-side minivans and easily spanned upward ten feet. He entered the bridge’s rear hatchway, with Rizzo two steps behind. Leon again stopped dead in his tracks.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Good morning, Mr. Pike. If you remember, my name is Trommy5.”

Leon simply stared at the metallic robot. The mecher was seated in the copilot’s seat, in front of the controls.

“I know who you are … what are you doing here?”

“I have been assigned to you. I am your automated mecher unit … I am at your disposal for whatever functions you deem necessary.”

Leon turned back to stare at Rizzo, who held up both palms in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t look at me … this wasn’t my idea. I don’t think anybody knew what to do with him. You brought him on board the
Minian
… so he’s all yours.”

Trommy5 cautiously stood up—reaching for the seat-back with one hand to steady itself. “I’ve been instructed to tell you the others will be here shortly. We only await the one called Boomer to arrive back on the
Minian
… then we’ll be on our way.”

Chapter 39

Dacci System

The
Minian
, Bridge

_________________

Jason watched the overhead wrap-around display as the stream of warships methodically emerged, one after another, from three separate, simultaneously generated, interchange wormholes. He had mixed feelings about their arrival. In one sense this fleet of two hundred Allied warships would go a long way in curbing outright attacks by the Sahhrain, but in another—it emphasized the fact that Star Watch could not handle the situation on its own.

“Captain, your presence is requested in the flight bay.”

Jason glanced up to the display and saw that a white U.S. heavy cruiser had just entered the flight bay and was setting down on the flight deck.

Jason looked over to Seaman Gordon with a sideways glance. “Who the hell gave them permission to come aboard my ship? I don’t have time to entertain fleet commanders … not now … not with everything going on. Send them away—”

“Captain … I don’t think you want to do that,” Orion interrupted, turning in her seat to face him. “You’re outranked on this one, Cap.”

Jason let out a breath and stood. “Fine … I’ll get rid of him. Somebody find my XO. I’ll hand over whoever this is to Perkins … he can give him a tour of the ship.”

* * *

Two minutes later, Jason entered the flight bay. Crew personnel were already coming down the large, bug-shaped cruiser’s gangway. Jason looked for the ranking officer, thinking,
he’s probably another admiral
. Perhaps hearing of his father’s near-death situation, someone was looking to elevate his own position. Then he saw her running down the gangway: Four-foot-something, wearing a bright yellow sundress, Mollie yelled at a junior officer crewmember to get out of her way. Several paces behind her was her ever-faithful droid, Teardrop. Last to appear was Mollie’s mother, Nan—his ex-wife.

Out of breath and all smiles, Mollie ran into Jason’s open arms. He picked her up and hugged her tight. “What are you doing here … little one?”

“Okay, okay … you can put me down now, Dad!”

Jason did as told.

“I think Mom wants to talk to you … I don’t know, ask her.”

Nan walked right by him, muttering, “Not here … and we’re taking your quarters … ten minutes.”

Jason called after her, “Where’s my son?”

“Back in D.C.”

Mollie smiled up at Jason and scurried after her mother, with Teardrop close on their heels.

* * *

As the still-acting President of the United States, Nan certainly outranked him. Nan’s sudden appearance took Jason by surprise, and he guessed that was her intention. About to enter his own captain’s quarters, he paused at the hatch: “AI, please let the president know I’m here.”

A moment later, as the hatch de-energized, Mollie stood inside to greet him. “Can I go play?”

“Hello to you, too,” Jason said, stepping into his suite. He saw no sign of Nan.

“Can I?”

“Um … what does your mother say?”

“She didn’t. Teardrop will be with me … it looks just like
The Lilly
… well, kinda … a lot bigger.”

“Fine … stay out of trouble. Why don’t you go see Dira … the AI will direct you—”

But Mollie was already out the hatch and running down the corridor.

“Go with her … keep an eye on her.”

“Yes, Captain Reynolds.” Teardrop quickly hovered out into the corridor.

Jason heard noises coming from deeper inside his quarters. He found Nan in there, hanging up clothes in his closet. She’d changed out of her navy pantsuit into faded jeans and a pink pullover sweater. Her long auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail.

“Staying long?” Jason asked.

She didn’t look up from what she was doing. “No … maybe a few days … I don’t know.”

“Well, what’s going on here?”

She stopped and glowered at him. “Why don’t you tell me?”

He saw she was angry. No, not angry. Furious. “What’s going on … what’s the matter, Nan?”

“Maybe you can tell me where my daughter is?”

“She just left—” Jason cut his words short. She wasn’t referring to Mollie. “What have you heard?”

“Only that she was in some kind of training … training to go up against some kind of mass-murdering monster. That she isn’t even on this ship!”

“Where did you get this information?”

“Who gives a shit where I got the information from? Is it true? Have you gotten my daughter involved in something no ten-year-old should even remotely be doing?”

“Look … it’s complicated. It’s not like that. At least, not entirely.”

Nan looked to be on the verge of punching him in the face.

He continued, “You need to know that I was just as upset by all this—”

“Upset? That’s how you’re phrasing this? Of course I’m fucking upset!”

“Just let me finish!” Jason stopped and tried to find a way to explain something he knew he wouldn’t be able to explain satisfactorily—most of all, because she was right. There was no way to defend something he never should have allowed to happen in the first place.

“Boomer is not even remotely like Mollie. They may share the same DNA, but that’s where all similarities stop. She’s …” he searched for the appropriate word, “she’s a warrior.”

“Come on … she’s ten, Jason!”

“Do you have any inkling of the things our ten-year-old daughter has accomplished over the last year and a half? How many lives she’s saved? Hell, Boomer was sneaking out to learn close-contact martial-art techniques a mere week after she’d come on board
The Lilly
. If you remember, she even helped rescue you from the Craing not so long ago. Yes … in many ways she’s a ten-year-old child. And though that part of her, happily, still exists, a warrior-persona resides within her, too. She lives for adventure … I couldn’t change that part of her no matter what I tried. She’d hate me for trying.”

“You think I don’t know she’s different? That I haven’t seen it for myself?” Nan asked. “Don’t get me started on the trouble she caused back at the White House. But what you’re permitting her to do … letting her go up against this alien nutcase, just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What you … and I, too, until recently, didn’t know, is that Boomer has certain … um … other abilities.”

“What kind of abilities?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I’ve seen her … watched her train. She’s amazing. Hell, it’s almost supernatural, what the kid can do.”

“You make her sound like some kind of freak, Jason.”

“Not a freak … not at all. She’s special and only someone truly special, with her kind of abilities, will be able to get close enough to Shakrim … subdue him, until he can be taken into custody by my forces.”

“I’ve been briefed on Lord Vikor Shakrim. I know he’s a bad one and his dark intentions could easily escalate into the next interplanetary war.”

“Then you know he’ll never be apprehended by conventional means. His intuitive capabilities will allow him to escape … only to continue, probably, with greater force later on.”

“And you’re saying Boomer has these same capabilities?”

“That’s where she is now. She’s being trained … learning to fight him at this same skill level. It was either consent to her training, or ready the Allied forces for the next, all too soon, interstellar war.”

“So our daughter becomes the sacrificial lamb?”

Jason shrugged. “As if you or I could stop her anyway. If it’s not this it will be something else. That ship’s already sailed, so to speak. I’ve come to the harsh realization that it’s probably best if she’s prepared for what lies ahead. If that involves training by a group of nomad warrior masters, then so be it.”

Jason saw most of Nan’s anger draining away. He suspected she, too, was fully aware who and what Boomer, in both body and spirit, had become.

Nan sat down on the edge of the bed and looked toward the observation window. Her eyes were wet; a deep sadness, conflicting inner turmoil, weighed on her shoulders. Jason sat down next to her, put an arm around her, and pulled her close.

“I promise you, she’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to our baby, Nan.”

She nodded and looked up at him. They stayed there, eyes locked on each other for several seconds. He watched as her eyes searched his and then she kissed him. Her lips were soft and sweet and he found himself kissing her back—pulling her body in closer. Memories of their past passion—their love for one another—rushed back in a flood of bittersweet memories.

She pulled away and stood. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

Jason didn’t know why she’d kissed him either, or why he’d kissed her back, and probably wouldn’t have stopped there. His mind flashed to Dira and a wave of guilt washed over him.

Nan stood at the window, looking out. “I’m no longer the president.”

“What? You’re no longer …”

“You and I both knew it would be a temporary position, at best. I never wanted that responsibility and was probably ill-equipped for it, anyway.”

“So who’s taking over the presidency?”

Nan turned to him and smiled. “Howard’s coming around.”

“As in President Howard Ross?” Jason said. The president had been taken by the molt weevils, wrapped inside a cocoon like millions of others in Washington D.C. Last he’d heard, doctors were less than optimistic about his cognitive abilities returning to normal.

“So that’s it? He’s in perfect health and back in the White House, running the country as if nothing has happened?”

“As you know, the rest of his family did not fare as well. He’s alone, but wanted to move in right away. Truth is, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“Where did you go?”

Nan pursed her lips, looking a bit sheepish. “I thought maybe we’d stay at the scrapyard house.”

Jason raised his eyebrows.

“It would be temporary … while I figure out what I’m going to do next. You’ll be here in space for a while, right? Hope it’s okay?”

“It’s fine. So who’s watching little Michael?”

“A close friend. He’s in good hands. I didn’t think I should bring him here … probably should have left Mollie home, as well. But—”

“Don’t worry about it. Make yourself comfortable here on the
Minian,
too, as long as you like.”

She nodded, again looking sheepish. “Sorry about the whole … kiss thing.”

Jason brought two fingers up to his ear. “I’m being hailed … I have to go.”

Chapter 40

Dacci System

Planet Harpaign, Ancient Subterranean Ruins

_________________

Palms flat on the gritty stone surface, Lord Vikor Shakrim leaned down further and kissed the ancient artifact. Naked, and on his knees, his head bowed—prone and submissive—Shakrim presented himself to his Master … and waited.

Eventually the true darkness came. Hot—with the smell of spoiled meat—it flowed all over him like a shroud: down his back and buttocks, over his head and down his arms and legs. It enveloped him in totality.

Illumination came from one flickering candle. The subterranean vault rested a hundred feet below the surface of Harpaign—or most of it did. The chiseled stone tablet, lying horizontal, was like flooring in the vault. The last third of the tablet floor was missing; only a jagged, uneven edge remained. Shakrim hadn’t needed it. Everything he required to call up
Rom Dasticon
was already present, as foretold in these ancient tablet writings … as was he, Lord Vikor Shakrim, and his approaching destiny.

Shakrim, seated, felt his Master’s all-powerful Sachem presence and let his shoulders rise up—his back becoming perfectly erect. The vault, with its stone walls and ceiling, became nothing more than a swirling gray mist. The lone candle flickered out while an amber glow, from a new encircling fire, reflected high up on the walls around him.

Rom Dasticon suddenly
stood before him, and Lord Vikor Shakrim again bowed his head.

“Stand, my son … stand and converse with me a while.”

Shakrim did as he was told. Dasticon stood three paces in front of him, his overwhelming presence making it hard for Shakrim to breathe, to comprehend. The all-powerful Sachem was old; he looked as old and withered as the ancient tablet lying beneath their feet. His long robe was brown and simple … a nomad’s attire. Thin, twisted, angular fingers pulled back his hood, letting it droop onto his back, and exposing a long, narrow face. His dark sunken cheeks, with exaggerated folds and wrinkles, covering millenniums of time, sagged his ancient, grayed, flesh. But the ravages of time stopped there. His blue and intelligent eyes glistened, reflecting the dancing light from the surrounding flames.

Dasticon began to walk the perimeter of their misty-gray surroundings, appearing in deep thought, his fingers steepled together, as though in prayer. “You have made much progress, my son. You honor me with your actions … your devotion.”