The Great Space (Scrapyard Ship Book 6)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Jason gestured toward Rizzo. “Billy, can you give Rizzo and the stuck SEALs a hand?”

  The three Craing depot workers, doing their best not to move, were wide-eyed and looked terrified. Jason figured they were harmless. He noticed one of the workers had his hands held out in front, palms up. Sure enough, Tadd, wearing a tiny battle suit identical in every other way to his own, was standing up and waving toward him.

  “Dira, can you get Tadd? Find a place to keep him safe.”

  She moved in between the three Craing and held out an open palm for Tadd to jump across to.

  Jason turned and found Gaddy standing to his right. “Let’s try the nice approach first. Can you ask our friends here where we can find the emperor?”

  Gaddy nodded and approached the three Craing. She retracted her helmet and smiled. “Hello, my name is Gaddy. I am from Halimar. We are not here to hurt you.”

  “You are with the resistance. I have seen your picture.”

  Gaddy glanced over at Jason, then back to the one who’d spoken. “Yes, I am Gaddy. Can you help me … help us?”

  All three workers shook their heads no at the same time. “No. We would be tortured or executed. Our families too. As much as we believe in your cause, the revolution, we cannot jeopardize our lives.”

  Jason was curious to see how Gaddy was going to handle this mostly-expected reaction.

  “Do you see that member of our team? He is what you call a rhino-warrior: seven feet tall and well over one thousand pounds. And that thing he carries, the hammer? He uses it to crush his enemies.” Gaddy turned to face Traveler and raised her eyebrows. Traveler grunted, but played along. He approached them, raised his hammer over his head, and let it come crashing down on the cobblestone flooring mere inches from their feet. Everything shook at the impact, and the resulting hole in the ground was several feet wide and a foot deep. Cracks spidered out from the crater in all directions.

  “Now imagine what that hammer can do to each of your heads … the mess that would make,” Gaddy said. “I’m going to ask you one more time, then I’m going to ask my friend Traveler to use his hammer three more times.”

  The workers kept staring at the broken stone floor until one of them answered: “We can tell you where the emperor’s quarters are. It is late. In all likelihood, he is asleep in his bed.”

  Ricket brought out his virtual notepad. Now that they stood beneath the disrupting mesh, he was able to scan the surrounding area of Chrimguard, including the Grand Sacellum, and project it into a hovering, three-dimensional representation.

  “Show us,” Jason commanded the workers. “Lie to us and we’ll come back with Traveler, looking for you.”

  All three pointed to the same location on the display. “It is here. Near the Grand Sacellum. But many soldiers are present, and something else too.” Two of the Craing workers glared at the third: “Silence. You must not!”

  He kept going: “Two days ago twenty shimmering mechanical soldiers were brought in.”

  “Shimmering mechanical soldiers?” Jason repeated.

  All three nodded.

  Jason felt a cold chill come over his body. Jason and Billy looked at each other. Billy said, “We’re in trouble ... Shit, I thought we’d destroyed those things.”

  Ricket was busy making selections on the virtual notepad. The display changed to a slowly- revolving image of a Caldurian-designed battle droid. The droid was no taller than the average man, but much wider, with four squatty-looking legs, a barrel-like torso, four arms, and a circular turret of a head. Every surface was covered with thin, razor-sharp plates that constantly moved, not unlike old-fashioned push-mower blades.

  “This what you’re talking about?” Jason asked.

  Again, all three nodded in unison.

  “And they guard the emperor’s quarters?”

  “Yes. For two days they have been here, at Chrimguard; they are always on patrol.”

  “This changes everything,” Jason said, the dread at their situation sinking in. “These things are as close to unstoppable as you can find. They utilize the Minian’s same advanced phase-shift tech. Individual sections, as well as the whole construct, can phase-shift into the multiverse and back at will. Fire a plasma bolt, or a micro-missile, or throw a rock at it, and it will phase-shift away. And it possesses a wide array of offensive weaponry. Try to touch the thing anywhere, and you’d be sliced into bits by its constantly moving mower blades. It has three small integrated plasma cannons on its torso, and the equivalent of a turret-mounted rail gun right there, on that thing that looks like its head. Oh, and this battle droid is completely autonomous, with its own highly-advanced AI.”

  Billy shook his head. “Bringing in that kind of firepower … sounds to me like we were expected, Cap. Maybe it’s a trap.”

  Jason thought back to events that had taken place above Terplin, on the space platform, the Ion Station. In the process of recapturing the Minian, five of those highly advanced and incredibly lethal battle droids had nearly defeated them. Jason looked at his team. How many more would be sacrificed in this mission … Billy? Traveler? Dira? What price would they have to pay to take out Ot-Mul?

  “Ricket, can you verify he’s even here?”

  “I was just verifying that, Captain. He most definitely is. He’s currently within the walls of the Grand Sacellum, far below ground, along with seventy-five other Craing.”

  “That must be a counsel convened of their high priest overlords. I’m sure of it … this is the most highly secret, most important, of all their meetings.”

  “Our lord Ot-Mul is being confirmed,” the chattiest of the workers said.

  “Confirmed?” Jason asked.

  Gaddy and Ricket wore the same troubled expression. “As in going from an acting-emperor to becoming the ruling emperor,” Gaddy explained. “It’s a twenty-four hour ceremony, where the ruling overlords transfer all governing and military power over to Ot-Mul.”

  “Captain,” Ricket said, “through this induction ceremony, Ot-Mul will also undergo the transformation of eternity.”

  “Just as Emperor Quorp underwent previously, and Emperor Reechet before that,” Gaddy added. “Lom would have been a part of that mix too, but he was killed prior to being confirmed.”

  “So Ot-Mul will be a cyborg, just as you once were, Ricket?” Jason asked.

  The three Craing workers were now looking at Ricket with renewed interest.

  “The technology today is far more advanced. The resulting outcome will provide for a much more natural, more organic, body. But yes, it is still cyborg,” Ricket answered.

  “Wait … so we basically have the entire Craing ruling body, including Ot-Mul, right here … right now.”

  The three workers, as well as Ricket and Gaddy, nodded.

  Billy’s typical smile disappeared from his lips. “Wait a minute. So … we end them … there’s actually a chance we can end the Great Space bullshit?”

  “That and the Craing people have a real chance to gain their independence,” Gaddy added.

  Jason let that sink in. After more than a year of fighting the Craing, could they really hope for an end of it all? He thought of Earth, and what remained of the Allied fleet, now preparing for the approach of five thousand Craing warships—could that dreaded onslaught be halted too?

  Dira retracted her helmet and stepped in front of Jason. There was pain in her eyes. “Win or lose today, we have to try. I … have to try … for all those who died on Jhardon.”

  “And for two rhino-worlds that no longer exist,” came Traveler’s deep voice.

  Jason’s mind turned to Mollie and Nan … were they even alive? Was Earth even a home to return to?

  Jason made eye contact with each and every one of his team. One by one they nodded their assent.

  “Two teams. Rizzo, find something we can use to tie these three up with.”

  Chapter 46

  Nan pulled Mollie in closer as they steadily moved deeper into Cheyenne Mountain and the
NORAD Alternate Command Center.

  “Mom, I’m scared.”

  “Don’t be scared. You heard what Teardrop said; all the molt weevils are dead.” Nan hoped her casual smile successfully covered up how she was actually feeling.

  They’d been walking the better part of an hour since they passed the second blast door. With the exception of their narrow flashlight beams, the dark was oppressive and absolute. To compensate, Nan had to strain to hear any unnatural or strange sounds over Gus’s rhythmic wheezing.

  “Gus, any idea how far it is to the next blast door?” Nan asked.

  “No idea. The good news is it’s impossible for us to get lost in here.”

  They continued on in silence for another fifteen minutes and then the radio crackled. Nan brought it close to her ear and strained to hear. “We ra .. sta … al … ov … kil …”

  It was faint but there was no doubt it was Reese’s voice. He was excited, yelling something unintelligible. The three stopped walking—waiting to hear if there was more coming.

  “Reese, please repeat … did not hear what you said. Are you okay?”

  Nan turned up the volume but only radio hisss filled the confined space around them.

  “This far in … it’s amazing any signal got through at all,” Gus commented.

  “We should go back,” Mollie said, looking back in the direction they’d come. “They might be in trouble and need our help.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Gus responded, his tone probably a bit more prickly than he intended. “Your mother’s the acting president of the United States and trouble is something we need to keep her safe from. A whole lot of people will be counting on her in the days ahead.”

  Gus was right, Nan thought. She was still having difficulty coming to terms with the fact she was presently the highest-level government official, and de facto U.S. president.

  Nan’s attention was instantly brought to the road ahead. Something skittered by, just beyond the beam of Gus’s flashlight. She brought the beam of her own light up higher. Had she really seen something or was it merely her now wildly overactive imagination?

  Her mental doubts were quickly answered. “I saw it,” Gus said. He slowed his pace and slowly moved the beam of his flashlight from one side of the tunnel to the other. He shook his head and shrugged, moving forward. But Mollie stayed firmly where she stood. Nan glanced down at her and saw an expression of total fright. Mollie wasn’t looking ahead or to either side of the road. She was looking up, where countless pipes and cables of varying sizes hugged the very top of the rocky tunnel thirty feet above them, now exposed in her flashlight beam.

  “Holy shit,” Gus said, his voice several octaves higher than normal.

  Three flashlight beams were now aimed at the ceiling: They were all naked—Men, women, children—hanging from either one or both arms. Several hung upside down, their legs securely wrapped over pipes. Nan felt Mollie rapidly inhale—ready to scream. Placing her palm over her daughter’s mouth, she bent down so her own face was mere inches away. “Don’t scream,” she whispered. “We need to stay quiet … very quiet.”

  Mollie closed her eyes and nodded she understood. Tears were welling out from her clenched-closed eyes.

  Gus was still staring up at them, examining them. “Look at the way their heads are tilted to the side and their eyes are closed.” He looked back at Nan. “They’re asleep. Every last one of the sons of bitches.”

  With reluctance, Nan looked back up. How many of them are there? She aimed her light high in the air, back the way they’d come. Oh my God. People had been lying up there all along—at least since they’d passed the second blast door. There were hundreds of them—maybe more.

  “Gus, we need to pick up the pace.”

  The three of them half-jogged half-ran into the darkness ahead.

  Gus was soon winded, his wheezing getting worse. A cacophony of wet, rattling coughs erupted. He brought the inside of his arm up to cover his mouth, but the sound was … loud enough to wake the dead.

  Gus slowed and staggered as he ran with Nan and Mollie fast upon him. Nan gently patted his broad back, if for no other reason than to give him assurance he was cared about. He seemed to get ahold of himself and his coughing subsided, though he continued walking with his arm hugged tight across his bright red face.

  “That’s it … you’re okay. Just keep on walking … take deep breaths.” Nan really wanted to tell him to hurry up, to move his ass. As if reading her thoughts, Gus did somewhat pick up his pace.

  “Stop looking at them!” Nan scolded, pulling Mollie’s arm and flashlight down. “Pretend they’re not there.”

  Mollie gave her mother the ‘you’re absolutely crazy’ look but did her best to keep her attention forward.

  Off in the distance, something reflected back their flashlight beams. It was white and large. It was the third blast door. Mollie and Nan looked at each other but neither went quite so far as to smile. The thought that kept creeping back into Nan’s mind was she was fairly certain whatever she’d seen earlier, what she had discounted as her eyes playing tricks on her—was one of those people—one who was awake and moving around down here on the same road … somewhere.

  As they approached the blast door, there was something significantly different about it, compared to the other two: This door was closed.

  Nan pushed back the despair that wanted to rush into her consciousness. Sure, they’d made it this far, but what now? Turn around and go back? She doubted Gus could make it. He looked, and sounded, terrible.

  Gus was the first to reach the gargantuan door. He pulled on it. “Twenty-five tons of steel and it’s closed up tight.”

  Mollie said, “Maybe you’re not pulling hard enough.”

  “Maybe it’s a good thing it’s closed,” said Nan. “Think about it. Wouldn’t you close it too with these things hanging around outside?”

  “You could knock,” Mollie said.

  Nan involuntarily glanced up and shook her head. “Try to do it … quietly.”

  Gus flipped his flashlight around in his grip and gently gave the steel door several consecutive taps.

  Nan said, “Didn’t you say the door’s like three feet thick and weighs twenty-five tons? Do you think those little taps registered on the other side?”

  Gus tried again, only louder this time. They waited. Mollie went back to looking upward, staring at the many bodies hanging there. They waited and listened.

  “They’re like zombies, huh?” Mollie whispered.

  Nan really didn’t want to go there; had purposely not gone there. She shook her head. “Whoever heard of sleeping zombies?” she asked with a straight face. Apparently it struck Mollie funny. Perhaps it was the tension—the seeming hopelessness of their situation, but Mollie started to giggle.

  Nan glared down at her and whispered “No!” That seemed to push Mollie over the edge. Both hands covered her mouth as her giggles quickly erupted into laughter. As irritation flared on Gus’s face, Mollie completely lost it. She had to sit down to catch her breath between howls that echoed around and around—off stone, steel, and concrete.

  Nan bit the inside of her cheek and waited. She knew, from experience, a nine-year-old would, in good time, settle down. Anything she’d say now to reprimand her would only set her off again. Irritated, she looked at Gus. “Well, if that didn’t wake them up, nothing will. Knock on the door like you mean it.”

  Gus shrugged and turned toward the closed door. He hesitated and then brought the flashlight way back and slammed its long handle onto the cold, flat metal as though he was pounding in a nail. The sound reverberated all around them. Four more times he hammered his flashlight at the door. On the fifth strike, the flashlight went dark—the bulb shattered. He turned away from the door and let his weight lean against it. “If they didn’t hear that, I’m not real sure what we can do.” He held out a hand for Mollie and she pulled herself back to her feet. She wasn’t laughing anymore, although a smile was still the
re.

  Mollie bit her bottom lip and quickly pointed her flashlight upward. Already more than a little irritated with her, Nan was about to admonish her again when she noticed something. She’d only glanced up for a fraction of a second before looking down at Mollie. Something registered at an unconscious level. Eyes open. She looked again. The man, hanging twenty feet above them, his head still cocked off to the side, was no longer sleeping. His eyes were open and he was looking straight back at her.

  Chapter 47

  Jason took Ricket aside. “Look, you and I both know we’re not prepared to go up against twenty battle droids. We need to find a way to take them out … another way. Outsmart them.”

  “The weaponry on the Streamline is highly capable—”

  Jason cut Ricket off. “It’s the same damn problem. One, they emit protective shields against plasma-fire attacks, and two, getting a lock on anything is impossible as long as that dome or mesh, or whatever the hell it is, blocks signals.”

  Ricket simply raised his almost non-existent eyebrows.

  “What?” Jason felt the seconds ticking by. Their two teams were waiting to move out. Five thousand warships were headed for Earth, and planets throughout the sector were being fucking annihilated. Then the obvious hit him like a ton of bricks. “Of course! We bring down the tent.”

  Jason brought everyone back around him. “Listen up! New plan. How many obelisks are supporting that tent mesh, Ricket?”

  “Five around the perimeter of Chrimguard and one, much taller, in the middle.” Ricket had his virtual notepad up and was looking at a zoomed-in view of the mesh and obelisks. “It appears the mesh utilizes a thick cable, which is secured about three-quarters of the way up on each obelisk.”