Scrapyard Ship 7: Call to Battle (12 page)

“Bristol … can I talk to you for a moment?”

The skinny, awkward twenty-something was lying on his back, peering into the dark recesses of a power distribution interface. He didn’t look up from his work. Jason watched him take measurements with a hand-held device. “You’re the captain … you don’t need my permission. Talk all you want.”

“We’re going after Ricket. You want to come along?”

“Not really.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? I thought you were … friends.”

“Ricket’s okay. But it’s not like we hang out or anything.”

Jason stared down at Bristol, who’d yet to look up at him. He shifted to a new drive coupling and began taking measurements there. Then it came to Jason.

“So, what do you want?” he asked.

Bristol finally looked up and shrugged. “Well … if I did go along on your one-way suicide mission, my brother would have to be released from the brig.”

“That’s not going to happen. He’s a murderer … not to mention he tried to kill the president of the United States more than once.”

“She wasn’t the president then. And he wasn’t trying to kill her. Sure, he’s got a hard-on for her … and, no offense, I don’t get it … but anyway, send him off to a deserted planet somewhere; drop him off someplace where he can’t get himself into any more trouble. That’s what I want.”

Truth be told, Jason wanted Captain Stalls, the psychopathic pirate, off
The Lilly
for good. Preferably, he’d want him dead. Thinking about it, he still wanted to kill the bastard with his own two hands. Bristol’s suggestion to drop him off on a deserted planet just might have some merit, though. He’d have to make sure it was someplace remote enough that he’d have zero chance of escape, and zero chance of another vessel coming anywhere near his location.

“HAB 12,” Jason said, finding it hard to keep from smiling.

“That’s a bit harsh. My brother wouldn’t last a day in there. He’d be Serapin chow.”

“It’s that or he gets transferred to a federal pen back on Earth. Let him live there among the other maniacs in a high-security ward. I’m sure he’ll make some nice friends. Bunk buddies.”

Bristol seemed to be mulling the idea around in his head.

“Out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll send him on his way with an RCM—retractable camp module,” Jason said.

“And a weapon,” Bristol added.

Jason shook his head, “No way.”

“Then no deal. He’ll need to defend himself from those fucking lizards.”

“Small plasma hand gun,” Jason said reluctantly. The truth was, there was no way Stalls could survive on HAB 12. This was the death sentence for Stalls he’d been waiting for. He watched Bristol pull himself up from the deck and dust off his jumpsuit. He placed the small tester into a toolbox.

“I have everything I need. I’m ready to go.”

Jason watched as Bristol retrieved a pack from the deck and slipped it over a shoulder.

“You knew I was coming here? Knew I was going to ask you to come along.”

Bristol shrugged again, “You popping up all over the ship … doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’d find your way down here, sooner or later.”

* * *

Bristol had Ricket’s ridiculously long code for accessing the HAB 12 portal and was in the process of entering it at the small access panel on its left.

Captain Stalls, hands bound in front of him, stood at the Zoo window, looking at the desert landscape beyond. The calm, arid environment looked no more dangerous than any other desert back on Earth. That is, if it weren’t for the old disabled utility vehicle sitting in the near distance, and the hundreds of Serapin bones scattered all about on the ground. Hell, except for those things, he could be looking into the Mojave Desert.

Three beeps and the portal window disappeared. Jason moved in front of Stalls and stood eye-to-eye with him. “We’ll know exactly where you are at all times. The security bracelet on your ankle provides precise location coordinates. Mess with the device and it will blow your leg off. Understand?”

Stalls didn’t answer, his expression one of exaggerated boredom.

Jason cut the plasti-cuffs from his wrists. Rizzo, standing to Stalls’ left, raised his multi-gun.

“As promised, here’s your RCM … they’re actually fairly comfortable. Don’t lose it.” Jason placed the paperback book-sized device into a rucksack. “In here is a change of clothes, thirty meal bars, a water distillation kit, canteen, and a plasma gun. I’ve included three extra power packs. When they’re used up, well, that’s it … hope you’re a fast runner.” Jason thrust the rucksack into Stalls’ chest.

Stalls took the rucksack and looked inside. He latched the top flap and pulled the rucksack over one shoulder. Bristol stood at the portal. “You have less than a minute to get inside.”

Stalls smiled and approached his brother. He gave Bristol a hug and said something into his little brother’s ear that Jason couldn’t make out. Stalls glanced back once, smiled, and stepped into Habitat 12.

Chapter 17

Jason walked with Mollie and Boomer—one on each side—toward the DeckPort. Petty Officer Miller walked several paces behind them.

“When will you be back?” Mollie asked.

“Not sure … probably in a few days.” Jason thought about his answer. He wanted to be honest with the girls, without scaring them. “Listen, I’m not going to sugarcoat this … you’ve both seen enough craziness to know the truth about these sorts of trips. Where I’m going … what I’ll be doing, will be dangerous.”

Boomer looked up at her father, but stayed quiet. He read the expression on her face.

“I just want you both to be prepared. I have no intention of getting myself hurt … or worse. Just be aware that it will be dangerous.”

“You’re scaring them, Captain. I think they get the idea,” Miller said from behind.

Boomer turned on Miller. “I’m not scared. Not even a little bit. My dad always comes back safely. So why don’t you stop butting in?”

Jason wasn’t overly concerned with Miller getting her feelings hurt by Boomer’s lashing out. By now, she was used to his highly expressive, girls … and she’d signed up for this post anyway. He pulled both girls close, one-armed hugs around each girl’s shoulder, and said, “Do me a favor. And I want you both to promise me this … that you won’t get into trouble while I’m gone. Your grandfather will be extremely busy. He’ll have no time for any of your shenanigans. If you have a problem, bring it to Petty Officer Miller,” Jason told them, looking over his shoulder at Miller and giving a quick wink and smile.

They reached the captain’s quarters on the
Minian
, which, in addition to its ready room, contained a five-bedroom suite. “Okay, here we are. Grandpa’s not here … he’ll be back later this afternoon. In the meantime, be good.” He knelt down and gave both girls a hug and a kiss on the forehead. Standing, he looked at Miller. “Thank you for watching over them. Try to keep them from getting into too much trouble.”

* * *

The full assault team was present and waiting together for Jason’s arrival. He hurried over to the team and apologized for being late. He looked up to see a flash. The
Starlight
was hovering, twenty feet above, in the air. It slowly descended onto the
Minian
’s flight deck.

Jason did a quick headcount: Billy, Rizzo, Traveler, Sergeant Jackson, Powell, Hansen, and Bristol. Jason knew Grimes was inside, piloting the
Starlight
.

When the back hatch opened everyone began to file in. Jason caught Bristol’s eye: “When you and Ricket first developed this ship, were you able to include the latest tech … like the
probability matrix
, and the ability to decode and transmit Craing communications?”

Bristol stopped and thought about the question. “Yes.”

Jason waited for further explanation but none came. Times like this Jason really missed Ricket. Bringing up the rear and about to close the back hatch, Jason saw Perkins run into the flight deck.

“Captain!”

“What is it, XO?”

“Glad I stopped you before you left,” Perkins said, out of breath.

“You could have simply contacted me via comms. What is it?”

“Admiral’s orders … he wanted me to get this to you in person.”

“Well, what is it … we’re on a schedule—”

“You can’t go. At least not right now. Multiple communications are coming in. The Craing are on the move.”

Billy joined Jason’s side and immediately took advantage of the opportunity to light a cigar.

“Some fleet or other of theirs is always on the move. Tell the admiral we’ll be extra careful.”

“No, that’s not his concern. He wants you here. It’s not one fleet, or even ten … it’s all of them. From our latest intel, it’s hundreds of thousands of warships, Captain. Ot-Mul’s amassed his Drac-Vin forces in their entirety and they’re on the move … headed toward Allied space … including Earth.”

Jason let that sink in for a moment. Hundreds of thousands of warships? Ot-Mul was either totally batshit crazy or a lot smarter than any of them counted on. In retrospect, his move made sense. Without having the support of his home—the Craing worlds—Ot-Mul had nothing to lose. Why not make the ultimate power play and show everyone up?

“What do you want to do, Cap?” Billy asked.

Jason’s eyes were still on Perkins. “What’s the time frame? How long before they reach the first Allied star system?”

“Two days … maybe two and a half before they exit the closest loop wormhole. The admiral wants you back on
The Lilly
when they arrive. Here, within the sector
.
He told me to shoot you if you even think about leaving.
”

“What the admiral isn’t comprehending is when you’re talking hundreds of thousands of warships … it’s all moot, anyway … it’s game over … we’re totally fucked,” said Bristol, chiming in. Standing next to Billy, he looked pissed off.

Bristol was right. It was ridiculous to even hope for a positive outcome with that massive war machine headed their way. Jason’s thoughts returned to Ot-Mul and he tried to think of a way—something to slow his progress. It sure wouldn’t be going head-to-head with him in space. “Do we have the coordinates where that loop wormhole’s located?”

Perkins shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know, Captain. I’m sure we can find out.”

“Why are you asking him? Why ask him anything?” Bristol queried matter-of-factly. “I can have those coordinates for you in thirty seconds. Even the
Starlight
’s
probability matrix
can offer you up that information.”

“What are you thinking?” Billy asked, flicking a long ash off the tip of his stogie.

“Theoretically speaking, can a wormhole be destroyed? Or made impassible?” Jason asked Bristol.

“Theoretically, yes.”

“What would we need to do to bring down Ot-Mul’s intended loop wormhole?”

Bristol laughed out loud. “The Craing use naturally occurring loop wormholes that were discovered, then mapped, over hundreds of years’ time span. Keep in mind, these wormholes aren’t the same as the little interchange wormholes we’re used to, which can be turned on and off at will.”

“So, there’s no way—”

“No. Well, I guess anything’s possible … if it falls within the laws of natural physics. But here’s your problem: Depending on the size of this particular wormhole, and I’m assuming it’s a big ass mother, like most of their loop wormholes are … you’d need a comparable mass. You’d need a small planet, or moon, and, from what I know, it’s impossible to maneuver …” Bristol stopped mid-sentence and stared back at Jason. “Wait. You’re not thinking …?”

Jason continued to stare at the pimply-faced genius. Bristol looked away and began chewing on the inside of his mouth. No one wanted to interrupt his thought processes, and what might, potentially, save their bacon.

“If the wormhole is small enough, relatively speaking, in size, and the prison barge has adequate mass … we might have something to work with. It’s all conjecture at this point … basically fart-matter.”

“What do you need to be certain? How can we help you?”

“You can stop talking for two seconds while I think,” Bristol snapped back. He squatted down where he’d been standing. Then, sitting cross-legged, he rested his chin on two fists. He closed his eyes. No one made a move. No one spoke.

Two minutes later, movement caught Jason’s eye. The admiral emerged from the flight DeckPort and, by the expression on his face, he was fuming. He strode up to Perkins, who remained silent.

Jason held up an index finger, a gesture indicating for his father to stay quiet.

“I’ll snap that finger right off at the knuckle. Now tell me what the hell’s going on here?” He turned to Perkins. “I told you to hand-deliver my orders and get your ass right back to the bridge.” He looked at Jason. “This mission is scrubbed. Why I’m having to explain my orders is beyond me.”

“Your orders are stupid,” Bristol said, getting to his feet. “You need to listen to the captain … he’s come up with a ridiculous idea that might just save us all … at least for a while.”

Chapter 18

It took another ten minutes to get the admiral fully on board with the possibility, the prospect, of turning their intended rescue mission into becoming more than that. Jason suspected the admiral had already come to terms with the coming space battle’s inevitable dire end; the futility of making any kind of stand against the Drac-Vin forces. So changing gears—allowing hope to resurface—took him some time.

They called up an interchange wormhole within five minutes after leaving the
Minian
’s flight deck. Jason and his handpicked team found themselves transported thirty-two light-years into deep space in less time than it took for a thought to fire across the synapses of a brain. Now less than a light-year from the best-guess coordinates supplied by the
Starlight
’s probability matrix, they were pushing the technological limits of the
Starlight.
After a series of deep space phase-shifts, each one to the farthest parameters the little ship would allow, they let the
Starlight
’s internal, micro phase-synthesizer components cool back down to minimally safe levels. In the meantime, Grimes pushed the little ship’s antimatter drive to its limits, and probably well beyond.