Star Watch (30 page)

Fortunately, he was able to get close enough to his intended surface destination, phase-shifting out of the cockpit, mere seconds before the fighter crashed.

Ricket also knew he needed to contact the captain and relay what he’d learned—where they were most vulnerable from attack. He briefly wondered why both communications, and most of his suit’s sensors capabilities, were so completely disrupted here, while the ability to phase-shift seemed unaffected.

Ricket continued to stare into the hazy sky above him, knowing full well he wouldn’t be leaving this desolate world in the same manner the
Assailant
had.

Soon after he’d phase-shifted to this site from approximately one mile out, he’d spotted the parked
Assailant
and knew he had found Lord Shakrim. Then, he’d made his way below ground, utilizing a combination of climbing and phase-shifting—basically trial and error—until he found the Sahhrain leader far beneath the surface within the sacred subterranean vault. Between the strange effects this planet probably played on Shakrim’s normally high, acutely aware psychic senses, not to mention Ricket’s own advanced Caldurian battle suit, which concealed his presence from view, Ricket hadn’t been detected by Shakrim.

He got to witness the visitation by the one called Rom Dasticon; obviously, he was some kind of god in Shakrim’s eyes. He could see how one so powerful could captivate someone … could even captivate whole societies … to follow after him. Ricket wondered what this demi-god was really selling? He needed time to properly decipher the tablet, now that he knew where it was located. Ricket double-checked his previous drop coordinates and again phase-shifted there.

In a flash, he found himself in total darkness. Earlier, he’d used care with his movements, on his high perch above the vault. The candle Lord Shakrim had relit still flickered below. Now, in the dim light, Ricket could make out an old, zigzagging, stairway that led from the surface down to the bottom of the vault. He phase-shifted directly across to the stone steps. Kicking up the intensity on his helmet’s spotlight, he peered down to the vault floor. The tablet artifact hadn’t been in HAB 7, though that hadn’t stopped him from looking for it, and he had concluded it had been removed or destroyed. But this gigantic ancient tablet below him seemed intact. From his high-up perspective, Ricket could still read some of the ancient alien engraved writings upon it; what he couldn’t read was being deciphered, floating before his eyes on a virtual layer within his HUD. Ricket read the engraved writings and then read them again:

For the righteous their destiny is foretold. Cometh in time will be the heralding of a magical chariot. Hark the one true God. The malevolent one, Rom Dasticon, will upon HIS return, bringeth into manifestation a new blight of blackness and despair, arising thence from a secret hidden realm. A conscript of a million, mindless, aspirants’ spears bringeth forth death and despair onto the non-believer. Submission is salvation. See HIM bringeth destruction to the child warrior in the greatest of battles. Only then will HIS magnificent charge begin for all to witness. Recondite are the words that openeth the gateway for an army of thousands to enter. Harken to thus speaketh twice: Hove Lom Shillo Plum—Hove Lom Shillo Plum. Henceforth upon HIS magical chariot, the river of blackness floweth unhindered unto all realms of heaven’s spheres for all time.

Ricket stood there musing. How a society, living over two millennia ago, could foretell the occurrences of current events, or even remote events, was less interesting to him than the actual ramifications of the prophecies. Whoever this Rom Dasticon was … this demi-god character, he was coming. Seemingly, he was a conquering invader from an alternate, multiverse realm. So what actually was Lord Vikor Shakrim’s role in all this? A disciple?
Probably
. And probably someone bestowed with supernatural powers, as an added egoic-bonus. What most disturbed Ricket was twofold: the destruction of the child warrior (Boomer) and no mention given of a great space battle. Everything revolved around a magical chariot (the
Minian)
and the opening of a secret gateway.

Suddenly Ricket felt dizzy. Could the fleet of enemy Sahhrain ships in Dacci space be little more than a diversion? Could HAB 7 be the secret gateway … one that would allow unhindered access into the
Minian
?
Yes!
Ricket was now sure of it.
Hove Lom Shillo Plum
, entered twice at the portal access panel, was the
backdoor
code that would allow entry into the ship … and, beyond doubt, was also the same code the two Blues nomads, Aahil and Capri, used to gain access into the various habitats. So not only was Lord Vikor Shakrim expecting Boomer’s arrival, he was viewing it as a necessary battle prior to secretly invading the
Minian,
through habitat 7, with his thousands of Sahhrain warriors. Ricket needed to warn the captain and warn Boomer to stay away from Lord Shakrim.
But how?
He first needed to locate the hidden habitat portal—the one Lord Vikor Shakrim, he was sure, had already found.

* * *

Jason entered Medical, crossing in front of a row of unoccupied MediPods, then into the adjacent semi-circle hospital compartment, with its numerous identical, double-railed beds. His father, currently Medical’s lone patient, was sitting up in bed. His full attention was on the expanded virtual notepad displayed in front of him. His arms raised, he used both forefingers to peck at the virtual screen.

“You should have learned to type a long time ago.”

The admiral looked over the quasi-transparent display. “I had more important things to do with my time.”

“How you feeling?”

His father finished whatever he was working on and closed down the display. “I’m fine. Well, I don’t know … Dira tells me I’m back to eighty percent … where the hell the missing twenty percent went, I’m not sure. Apparently, I was dead far longer than any MediPod could fully repair.”

“Do you feel … impaired?”

He shrugged. “Not to the point I’m going to start drooling or anything … truth is, I’m still sharper than the majority of the idiot officers in the Allied fleet.”

But Jason could see its impact on his father’s face. Almost imperceptible … the slower speech … the slower eye movement. The admiral hadn’t wanted to talk about any events occurring at the hands of Lord Shakrim aboard the
Assailant
. Either they were too awful to remember or his father didn’t fully remember them. In either case, Jason didn’t want to push it.

“Nan and Mollie are here,” Jason said.

“I know that … they came by an hour or so ago,” the admiral said, now looking uncomfortable.

Jason waited for him to continue.

“I assume Nan told you the same bullshit story about her leaving the White House now that Ross is back in the saddle?” said the admiral.

“Made sense to me … she was only a junior cabinet member before the shit hit the fan with the molt weevil infestation on Earth.”

“I’ve been going back and forth with my contacts in D.C.,” the admiral said. “Sure, Ross is slated to return to office … eventually. But, like me, he’s got a ways to go. Nan’s still the interim president. So … no … there’s something else going on with your ex-wife, Jason.”

Jason shrugged. “Stress of the job … isolation … it could be any number of things. I wouldn’t place too much importance on it.”

“I don’t. But maybe you should. This could be her way of finally reaching out to you before things progress any further with Dira. You two have a lot of history together … kids.”

“That ship has sailed, Dad. I’m with Dira now,” Jason said flatly, but wondered how much of that was true. Did he still have feelings for Nan? Was he really ready to toast a final farewell to the one he’d thought was the true love of his life? He didn’t want to think about any of that right now … not with everything else going on. “Can you do me a favor, Dad?”

“Maybe.”

“You’ve got some R&R coming … ask Nan to take you back to San Bernardino. I want her and Mollie as far away from this sector as possible.”

Jason was being hailed. “Go for Captain.”

“Cap, we’ve got major movement coming from the Sahhrain fleet. Looks like an attack could be imminent,” Orion said.

Chapter 43

Dacci System

The
SpaceRunner
, Open Space

_________________

Leon noticed Hanna when she entered the bridge. Standing now behind the copilot’s seat, she was wearing the casual clothes she’d brought with her.
Are these the clothes a black-market
trader’s wife would wear
? He averted his eyes, trying not to stare, but failed miserably. Sleeveless and low cut, the outfit showed some skin; her tan slender arms and small breasts briefly captivated his attention.

“You know how to make coffee, mecher?”

Trommy5 looked away from the console, first at Leon, then Hanna. “Yes, Captain Pike. Cream and sugar?”

“Black.” Leon raised his brow toward Hanna, questioning.

“Tea, please … milk and sugar.”

Trommy5 stood and moved out of the way as Hanna took his seat. “I don’t want you … anyone, to forget why I’m here.”

“I know why you’re here, Hanna. I don’t know the whole story, but I know you need resolution … for something.”

She nodded but didn’t add anything further. Leon, for the first time, noticed she’d put her hair up, emphasizing her long neck. He pictured himself kissing her … right there, just below her left ear.

“You need to be careful with Stalls,” she said.

“I already know that.”

Hanna turned in her seat, facing him. “This was a bad idea. You don’t know what he’s capable of. What this psychopath is capable of.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“With you? No!” She added, “Just do as you promised … get me in front of Ridert.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

Leon saw that they were now approaching Dacci space. “Crap!”

“What is it?” she asked, looking out the front cockpit observation window.

Leon didn’t answer; instead, he tapped the console and spoke aloud: “Get up here, Bristol.”

Several seconds later Bristol arrived, wearing his bright red spacer’s jumpsuit. He’d kept on his own black trousers, which helped diminish some of the Santa Claus effect. “What do you want?”

Leon gestured with his chin toward the tiny lights ahead, too many to count.

“Yeah … so what? We knew the fleet was close. It’s why we’re here,” Bristol said.

“That’s not five hundred ships … I’d guess, closer to eight hundred. We were already coming into this at a disadvantage—two Sahhrain ships to each Allied ship. Now, I’m really not liking the odds … I don’t care how much firepower the
Minian
has.”

Bristol leaned in and brought up a secondary display. “You’re not using the new configuration … why in hell did I waste my time updating your software if you’re not going to use it!”

“What are you talking about?”

Bristol brought up his hands and feigned using sign language. “I’ll talk real slow so you can understand me. You need to use the new virtual sensor display I installed.”

Leon ignored his antics, and looked at Bristol’s new display. “Shit … those other three hundred vessels … Parlek Orion warships.”

“Bingo,” Bristol said.

“Go back and get your brother; we’re getting close enough now. We need to make contact.”

Several moments later both Stalls and Rizzo entered the small bridge compartment. Hanna moved to the back and leaned against the bulkhead while Stalls took her place in the vacated copilot seat. Rizzo sat in the second row of seats, kitty-corner to Stalls, never lowering the muzzle of his multi-gun.

“Remember what you’re here for. Nothing else. No warnings, no funny business,” Leon told him.

Stalls flashed a smile and held out his still-bound palms, indicating he was waiting on Leon.

Leon opened a broad-reach channel and silently pointed a finger at Stalls.

“This is Captain Stalls of …”

Leon silently mouthed the name,
SpaceRunner
.

Stalls continued, “The trader vessel,
SpaceRunner
.”

The response was almost immediate. “Divert course. You are entering restricted space.”

“Check your logs … we’re expected. Either that, or contact Commander Ridert Douville … it’s his five barrels of Targonian spirits we’re delivering.” Stalls sat back and leisurely inspected his fingernails.

“There’s nothing on record—”

Stalls quickly leaned forward and cut him off, “The barrels are for Lord Shakrim … can I have your crew designation number so I can tell him who, specifically, turned us away? We’ve already been paid … it makes no difference to us.”

“The best I can do is connect you directly to the commander.”

It was nearly a minute later before the comms came alive again with a deep male voice questioning, “Stalls? That really you?”

Leon glanced back to catch Hanna glaring out the forward observation window to an undefined point in space.

“Of course it’s me, my friend. Looks like someone’s having a party and forgot to invite me.”

“Don’t concern yourself with Sahhrain business. What do you want, pirate?”

“As I said … I’m making a delivery of Targonian—”

“That’s bullshit,” Ridert interjected.

“Let me finish. It’s actually for your illustrious leader. He asked for it specifically, the last time I was in these parts. I was well paid for it. It’s a drop-and-go … in-and-out … unless, perhaps, you have time to sit and sample some of the brew.”

“Look around … does it look like I have time for any of that? Give me a minute while I try to contact Lord Shakrim.”

Leon saw tension on Stalls’ face for the first time. “I can see you didn’t expect that reply. And there’s no way Lord Shakrim’s going to grant us access into Dacci space, so you better have a plan B.”

Ridert’s voice was back on the comms channel. “I’m sending you the coordinates now.”

Hanna quickly moved forward between the seats and reached for the back of Stalls’ head, grabbing a tight fistful of the pirate’s hair. His eyes narrowed in pain as he tried to look back at her.