The Great Space
A SCRAPYARD SHIP NOVEL
Written By
Mark Wayne McGinnis
Prologue
“Captain, three Caldurian ships just appeared six hundred miles off our starboard bow,” Gunny said. “It’s crazy … they’re just like …” Orion hesitated as she rechecked her station instruments.
“They’re what, Gunny?”
“They’re like us … they look like The Lilly. Three, I think newer versions, of The Lilly, Captain.”
Jason looked up at the now refreshed view on the overhead wraparound display. The three ships were indeed nearly identical to The Lilly, but these ships had several minor differences: the slope of the bow, a broadening at the stern where a third drive had been incorporated, and they weren’t matt black, like The Lilly. They were a blue-gray color.
“Cap, all three have weapons charging. They’ve deployed their plasma and rail canons!”
Jason yelled, “Battle stations! McBride, phase-shift us the hell out of here … anywhere!”
All three Caldurian ships fired simultaneously.
The impact was enough to throw three crewmembers out of their seats, and the overhead bridge lights flickered. “Shields are already down to twenty percent, sir. Phase-shifting and propulsion is offline,” the XO said.
“Weapon systems, Gunny?”
“Plasma canons are offline … firing rails and missiles now.”
Jason’s mind reeled. He needed a way out of this, an idea, something, or they’d be destroyed within the next few seconds. Even now, in the midst of it, Jason wondered if he was dreaming. It seemed real, ultra real—but then again, something was off.
“Hail them,” Jason said, turning to Gordon on the Comms station.
“Shields down to five percent, Captain.”
“More Caldurian ships coming out of another wormhole,” Orion announced.
“No response from repeated hails, sir,” Seaman Gordon said.
Jason turned to see the arrival of the other ships. These were different, still had the hallmark look of Caldurian design, but were bulky, massive ships—he figured they were some kind of troop transport-type vessels. It was then that Jason saw it: on the other side of the wormhole, two Earth-like planets side by side. Actually, the unmistakable contours of North America meant one was Earth.
“Shields down!” Orion yelled.
The AI’s deceptively calm voice filled the bridge, “Outer hull breach on levels two and four. Ship integrity lost … Abandon ship … Abandon ship … Abandon ship.”
Jason’s scream split the still silence of the captain’s quarters. With his heart still pounding, he sat up and realized where he was. His T-shirt, the sheets, were drenched with sweat. It was only a nightmare. He laid back and let his breathing return to normal. A nightmare with a new enemy … God, it seemed so real.
Chapter 1
They’d left the fringe of the Sol solar system with the battered, war-torn fragments of what was once a Craing fleet, a graveyard of fifteen hundred warships, behind. Now they approached a lone Alliance warship that sat less than a mile off their bow in the distance.
Captain Stalls knew from sensor reports there was only a limited security force left behind on board the Cutlass. Good, considering he had little in the way of an assault force himself. What he did have were the few dozen Craing who’d been marooned for nearly a year in space. So he’d need to get on and off the Cutlass as quickly as possible. But wasn’t that what pirates, like him, were infamous for?
He watched the display and the bug-like warship, which was virtually identical to his three Craing cruisers—except this one was painted bright white and had red, white, and blue stars and stripes emblems prominently affixed at various locations around the ship’s hull.
He smiled to himself as he contemplated Captain Reynolds’s reaction when he learned of his daughter’s abduction. From what Stalls understood from picked-up interstellar chatter, the Earth humans were already having a rough go of it. The Allied forces had been decimated in the past week; planets, hell, whole star systems had been annihilated.
Stalls felt Rup-Lor’s presence behind him. There was something about the little Craing that annoyed him—even above the annoyance he felt for their race as a whole.
“Don’t just hover there, what is it you want?”
“Captain, as ordered, I’ve assembled an assault team.”
Stalls turned and looked down at his XO. “Where?”
“In hold number four, Captain.”
“Fine. I’ll be down shortly.”
Rup-Lor hesitated, looking unsure of himself.
“What is it?”
“Sir, we’ve picked up Craing command communications. A formation of fifteen hundred warships is immobile at the sixth planet from the sun; humans call it Saturn. There are six breakaway ships, dreadnaughts, now nearing Mars. Sir, these are the black Vanguard ships. Planet killers.”
Stalls had little sympathy for those on Earth, but this update certainly complicated things. He had a plan. Ultimately, he would rebuild his fleet and return home, but first and foremost, he would not let anything get in the way of his revenge on Captain Reynolds. Second, the thought of losing the Earth woman, Nan, was unthinkable. Added to that, he was also a humanoid. It was very evident the Craing were systematically eradicating the human race. The implications of that alone were sobering.
“Rup-Lor, go below. I’ll join you shortly and assess the assault team.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Stalls sat down in the captain’s command chair and watched the little Craing officer leave the bridge. That certainly changes things, he thought. Or does it? In the event Captain Reynolds survived the coming battle, which was feasible based on his past exploits, Stalls still wanted leverage over him. So the situation hadn’t changed. He needed to grab the kid.
* * *
Captain Stalls entered hold number four wearing a newly cleaned dress shirt. As promised, Rup-Lor had assembled a Craing assault team. Thirty little warriors were standing in three rows of ten. Wearing Craing battle suits and holding pulse weapons, the formation stood perfectly still before him. Stalls moved between the rows looking for something to criticize—perhaps eyes not locked forward, or improper posture, or anything. But the Craing formation was tip-top.
Stalls joined Rup-Lor standing before the group. “They look fine. You’ve reviewed with them the plan?”
“Yes. First, we’ll approach from three different vectors. The attack will come fast, taking out the Cutlass’s drives; then we’ll target the vessel’s bridge. Next, with their shields down, we should have no problem breaching the hull and entering the ship at the three locations specified.”
“And the objective?”
“To capture the young human female,” Rup-Lor answered. “I will personally undertake that responsibility.”
Stalls would far prefer to board the ship himself and lead the assault teams. But it came down to trust, and he didn’t completely trust this crew not to hightail it away the second he was off ship—especially with the massive Craing fleet so close by.
“Five minutes, get your teams in position,” Stalls said. He left the hold and made the long trek back through dark narrow corridors, up several flights of stairs, and arrived at the wider, better lit, primary level where the bridge was located. He entered the bridge and saw Drig sitting on the raised section of the bridge that contained the row of officers’ chairs. Drig was now perched in the XO seat. Stalls sat down next to him, keeping his eyes on the display before him.
“Attack!”
* * *
“Go fish,” Boomer said triumphantly.<
br />
Teardrop continued to look at its cards for several seconds, then down at the loosely stacked deck lying on the table between them. Boomer watched as the droid extended out its left articulating arm and, with surprising dexterity, plucked up one card after another and placed them into its right claw, among its ever-growing handful of cards. Teardrop, an advanced Caldurian droid whose torso was teardrop-shaped, was Boomer’s companion and protector. She was certain that without her loyal friend on board this old, smelly Craing ship, she most certainly would have gone bonkers. As it was, she had enlisted the droid to play every game imaginable, from hide-and-seek, to hot-and-cold, to any number of card games, such as their current game of Go Fish.
With a metallic clang her cabin hatch opened and Petty Officer Miller entered. Boomer didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge her presence.
“You know this isn’t play time, Boomer. I told you, one more hour of math.” Miller strutted over to Boomer’s small work desk and snatched up Boomer’s tablet. Miller accessed the learning module and reviewed the day’s assignments. “I guess you completed your assignments for today. But that doesn’t mean play time. You could move forward and complete tomorrow’s assignments.”
Boomer continued looking at her cards. With her eyes only, she looked up at Petty Officer Miller and raised her eyebrows. Miller brought her attention back to the tablet.
“Well, actually, it looks like you’ve moved ahead some.” Miller continued to swipe the pages on the tablet. Her brow furrowed. “You’ve finished all the assignments?”
Boomer, back to playing her game, gestured toward her temple: “Remember? I have advanced nano-technology in my head. I completed all the assignments the first day you came on board.”
The petty officer made a disgusted face. “You’re spending too much time with that robot. You need to interact more with your own kind. I want that thing out of here. Take a shower. You’re starting to smell. Then we’ll go to the mess and have some lunch.”
Whoop Whoop Whoop
The general quarters alarm blared into Boomer’s small cabin, causing both Boomer and Petty Officer Miller to momentarily freeze. Teardrop transformed from child’s playmate to combat droid in a nanosecond. It was up and moving to the hatch and taking a defensive position there.
“This vessel is being boarded by enemy combatants,” the droid said.
Boomer got up and brushed by the petty officer and disappeared down a short corridor into her bedroom cabin.
“Where are you going? You need to stay right here by my side, Boomer. You’re my responsibility,” Miller commanded.
Boomer returned, now wearing shoes; there was a small backpack draped over her shoulder. Hooked onto her belt was the gift from Woodrow, the light blue throwing knife.
“What do you think you’re doing? Absolutely not. Take off that knife—”
The sound of a loud explosion interrupted Miller’s words. The Cutlass violently jolted to the right, throwing both Boomer and the petty officer off balance and onto the deck. Before they could stand, two more equally jarring explosions happened in rapid succession.
The hatch opened. It was Petty Officer Woodrow. Armed with a pulse weapon and wearing a battle suit with his helmet retracted, he gestured for Boomer and Miller to follow him.
Boomer felt an immediate sense of relief seeing that her highly capable self-defense instructor was there to protect her.
Miller held fast. “I’m responsible for this child. Tell me where you’re taking us.”
“You’re responsible for tucking her in at night and making sure she eats her carrots. I’m here at the captain’s request and I’m responsible for keeping her alive at times like these. You’re welcome to stay here, hide under the bed if you want, whatever, but she’s coming with me.”
Woodrow extended his hand and Boomer took it. Together, Woodrow and Boomer, with Teardrop close behind, took off down the corridor. Miller, several paces back, followed them. Turning the next bend, Woodrow and Boomer came face to face with an assault team of ten armed Craing.
Woodrow pushed Boomer to the deck with one hand while bringing up his pulse rifle with the other. Boomer looked back at Miller; as much as a meddling pain she could be, Boomer found herself worrying about her. Again, Woodrow pushed Boomer’s head down. “Get down, damn it!”
Boomer screamed out as she watched Woodrow take four simultaneous plasma pulses to the head—he was dead before firing his first shot.
Teardrop, with its plasma cannon now protruding through a small compartment at the middle of its torso, was fully engaged—returning fire with short, precise bursts into the Craing assault team. Five of the Craing were already down. Miller was on her belly making her way across the deck over to Boomer.
Two more Craing went down, leaving the last two attempting to retreat the same way they’d come. Boomer, now at Woodrow’s side, was hoping by some miracle he was still alive. He was not. It was then she felt Petty Officer Miller climb on top of her.
“Get off me! What are you doing?” Boomer yelled.
“Keep your head down! Don’t move,” Miller barked back.
Two more teams of ten Craing each suddenly appeared at both ends of the corridor. Teardrop continued to fire: first spinning in one direction, firing multiple bursts, then spinning in the other, and firing again. Boomer watched from below Miller’s outstretched arms as Teardrop took continual plasma fire from both sides. Tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision.
“Stop! Stop hurting it! Please, stop!” She continued to scream until she felt her throat would give out. She couldn’t move, and couldn’t reach for Woodrow’s dropped pulse rifle that lay mere feet away. Miller’s weight on her back was making it hard to breathe. She wondered if Petty Officer Miller was also dead.
Watching, Boomer saw Teardrop having trouble maintaining its ability to hover. Suddenly, the droid dropped to the deck. All the plasma fire around her stopped. Boomer continued to stare at the immobile silhouette of Teardrop, and then looked at Woodrow, lying by her side.
No one moved for several minutes. Then, in the distance, Boomer saw a lone figure walking her way. Tall, muscular, and with hair pulled back into a long ponytail, she knew exactly who he was.
Chapter 2
The distress call came in right as The Lilly phase-shifted out of the Minian’s hold.
Jason had just sat down in the command chair when Gunny Orion looked up, startled, from her console.
“Captain, I’ve got the Cutlass on comms, they’ve been attacked,” Orion said, looking worried.
Having left the Cutlass only an hour earlier, Jason didn’t see how. “Tell me my daughter …”
“I’m sorry, Captain. He says Boomer’s been taken.”
Jason was on his feet. “Who are you talking to? Put him on screen!”
A disheveled-looking officer appeared on a new video feed. He tried to sit up straighter when he realized he was being viewed. Jason recognized the officer. He was Commander Rick Casper.
“What the hell happened, Casper?”
“I’m not completely sure, Captain. Minutes after the convoy separated, we were attacked by three Craing cruisers. We only needed a few minutes to make repairs before we were going to join the convoy back on Earth. Our shields were down—”
“Where the hell’s my daughter … where’s Boomer, Casper!?”
The officer looked as if he was going to pass out. He gulped down several deep breaths and continued, “This was an organized strike. They seemed to know exactly where to find her. After taking out both the bridge and propulsion systems, they breached the hull in several locations, all near her cabin.”
Jason said, “She was in the care of Petty Officer Woodrow—”
Casper was shaking his head. “No … He was killed fighting the Craing. The droid was fried as well. I’m sorry, Captain.”
“And Petty Officer Miller?”
The commander looked confused for a beat. “Um … well, she’s currently not on board. I assume she
was taken, too. I wish I could tell you who exactly was responsible for this, Captain.”
Jason held up a hand, “Hold on a second.” He needed to think. This certainly wasn’t the work of the Craing. So who would do this? “I may have an idea who’s responsible. Stalls. Captain fucking Stalls.”
Orion and Commander Rick Casper didn’t disagree.
“What’s the condition of the Cutlass and her crew, Commander?” Jason asked.
“All crewmen who were on the bridge, as well as in Engineering, are dead. More were killed as the three Craing teams entered the ship. All and all, we have thirty-five survivors, and half of them are injured.”
So above and beyond Boomer being taken, one of the few ships he had was now badly damaged. Worse, most of the crew on board had been killed. Hell … this small fleet of ships was needed to go up against the Craing. This seriously impacted their effectiveness. Just one more major setback at the hands of Captain Stalls.
“We’ll be there in a few minutes. Have what remains of the crew prepare to abandon the Cutlass.”
Jason signaled for Orion to cut the connection. “Helm, get us to the Cutlass,” Jason ordered.
Sitting there, replaying the conversation in his head, he chided himself for not leaving a larger security contingent on board. As the battered Cutlass appeared on the overhead display, Jason and the rest of the crew became quiet. The damage was far worse than Jason even imagined.
“Gunny, upload phase-shift coordinates to my HUD. XO, let Dira and her team know they should expect multiple injuries. Have Grimes ready the Perilous; she can shuttle both crew and injured back to The Lilly. Let everyone know, we’re leaving this area of space in ten minutes or less.”
“Aye, Captain.” Perkins took the command chair as soon as Jason moved toward the exit. Within several seconds, Jason could see he had the phase-shift coordinates for the Cutlass. He activated the phase-shift and in a flash was standing among the carnage of what must have been a devastating battle. No less than fifteen Craing combatants lay dead on the deck at one end of the corridor, and several more dead lay at the other end.
The Great Space (Scrapyard Ship Book 6) Page 1
