In a surprise move, he suddenly cartwheeled backwards, sweeping distortion waves down at her from an angle. Boomer had anticipated Sahhselies to continue moving forward and was, instead, struck across the abdomen by holographic distortion waves. In a real fight, she would be dead. Crap! I didn’t even partially block his attack.
Boomer flexed her fists into tight balls and clenched her jaws. “I can’t believe I fell for that!” She bowed toward the Kahill Callan master, giving him due respect and appreciation. She hated, yet loved, being bested: Hated it, because she was highly competitive; loved it, because she’d learned something new. He would never be able to pull that particular move on her again. In fact, she’d use his fancy move on her own students, later that day.
Master Sahhselies bowed, brought his hands together as if in prayer, and quickly walked away.
“Wait … Master Sahhselies … we’ve only just started!” Boomer briefly wondered if she’d said or done something to offend the Kahill Callan master. She stomped her foot down hard on the soft mat beneath her.
She saw movement off to her right. It was Dewdrop, her droid, hovering and coming closer to her.
“I told you to wait in the corridor. You’re distracting, when you hover around me.”
“Boomer?”
She turned to see Prince Aahil Aqeel’s holographic representation, standing three paces in front of her. He looked thin and a mere shell of the warrior he’d been before his fight with Shakrim. But he was alive and seemed to be recovering. He was wearing a light gray Shadick, with two blue circles on its sleeves. Boomer’s affection for her master became evident by her ear-to-ear smile. “Master! I’m so happy to see you … you’re walking … are you here to continue my training?”
That brought a smile and chuckle from Aqeel. “No, I am not quite ready for that. I’ve come to you for a different reason, Boomer.” His expression turned serious, and his stare was somewhat disconcerting.
“What … what is it? Are you dying?”
“No, Boomer … I’m not dying … please just stop talking long enough for me to talk.”
She nodded, heeding his words.
“I’m very proud of you, Boomer. I want you to know that. Although young in chronological terms, you are old in spirit—way beyond any of us. What you have accomplished in your short lifetime is staggering. The truth is, your training to become a Tahli warrior began long before I met you … I suspect you have always been a warrior at heart. You cannot be anything but that, for that is who you are.”
Boomer felt her cheeks flush and burn with embarrassment. She didn’t know how to respond to what he was saying. She didn’t feel she’d done anything all that spectacular. She was, after all, her father and mother’s daughter—she’d seen bravery from both, more times than she could count. How else was she supposed to act?
He added, “I look forward to continuing your training. You have much to learn: finesse and subtlety, to name only a few attributes. But you are no longer a novice … you must be recognized for the accomplishments and strides you have exemplified.”
Boomer’s eyes moved, first left then right. People were streaming into the small gymnasium from both sides—everyone staying close to the bulkheads, and off the mat. Again, she felt heat flush her cheeks. They’re here for me … to honor me! She now recognized what was happening. Dewdrop, close by her side, was holding something in its short outstretched arms. Beyond her, she could see her father and Dira, leaning against the bulkhead; and Billy and Orion … Bristol … just about the whole crew—were all smiling at her.
Aqeel said, “Boomer, it is with great honor I present this simple Tahli warrior Shadick to you.”
Boomer tasted salt from sudden tears even before she realized she had started to cry. She held her arms out to accept the Shadick from Dewdrop, and only then noticed there was a simple blue circle on one of the exposed sleeves. Her jaw dropped open, though no words escaped her lips. Today was her birthday … she’d mistakenly surmised they’d all convened here, Prince Aqeel as well, to wish her a happy one. But this was far more important an occasion than that.
“As of this moment,” Prince Aqeel continued, “you are now a Kahill Callan Master of the First Degree. And perhaps even more importantly, the Council of One has bestowed upon you a most precious, and special, honor … you will be recognized by both Blues and Sahhrain alike as a true Tahli warrior. Now, Boomer … Tahli warriors are given new names … a name that exemplifies true dignity and heroism. I asked your father, Captain Reynolds, to assist me in that regard. He suggested Lion Heart … which, translated into Dacci, is Tahhrim Dol. You, Boomer, are now called Master Tahhrim Dol. You honor me, all of us, with your true lion heart. Thank you.”
Boomer clutched the light garment close to her chest and, biting down on her lip, hoped the pain would stop her tears. She tried to think of something an eleven-year-old Kahill Callan master, a Tahli warrior, would say: “Well, did someone bake me a cake?”
As the holographic image of Prince Aqeel faded away, others around her moved forward. Her dad was the first to wrap his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head and said, “I’m so proud of you, little one.” He pulled away and looked down at her with a wide smile.
“I wish Mom was here … I really miss her.”
“I know you do … she’ll get to see this on vid-feed. You can call her tonight.”
Dira, now at her side, was kneeling down next to her. “I want to give you this,” she said, holding a small necklace out for Boomer to see. Hanging at the end of a thin gold chain was a gold lion.
“It’s attacking … see how it’s leaping … its claws are out!” Boomer said, not taking her eyes from the only piece of jewelry she’d ever been interested in. “I’ll never take it off … thank you, Dira. I love it.”
“There’s a lot more presents waiting for you in the mess … and cake, too,” her father said.
Boomer smiled and took in a big breath. She felt overwhelmed … and something else. What was it? She looked up at her father, suddenly needing to tell him something. She pulled at his sleeve. “Dad!”
“What is it, Boomer?”
“It’s Ricket … he’s in trouble. He’s in a lot of trouble.”
Chapter 7
Mansan Core System
Planet Eriok; Port City
__________________________
Grimes brought the shuttle lower, circling high above Port City.
“Nothing on sensors, Captain,” she said.
Jason continued to take in the landscape below just the same. “Put us down at the SpaceRunner’s last known coordinates, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Part of Jason knew time was of the extreme essence … that mere moments counted. Even before he’d seen fear sprout suddenly into Boomer’s eyes, he, too, had felt some strange unease: like someone frantically knocking at a door … but you can’t see or hear them … you don’t even know where the door is.
Grimes put the Perilous down in an open field. Out the forward observation window Jason spotted the small encampment.
Jason stood. “Stay with the ship … this shouldn’t take long.” He made his way into the shuttle’s cabin and motioned for the others to get up and get moving. Jason had handpicked this team. Not too large a contingent, but one that would leave little doubt they meant business.
Jason was the first to head down the rear gangway. Billy Hernandez soon followed, then Sergeant Jackson, one of the biggest, meanest-looking men Jason had ever met. The three men, holding on to multi-gun rifles, waited for the last member of their small team. Traveler, the seven-foot-tall—one-thousand-plus-pound rhino-warrior, descended the ramp, his heavy hammer clenched firmly in one hand.
News of Ricket’s disappearance had a profound effect on the crew. Jason had discovered over the last twenty-four hours that Ricket had affected many lives, in many different ways. For Jason, Ricket was as close as his own brother … closer, actually. But Jason was surprised by Traveler’s
reaction when he heard Ricket was missing. Rhino-warriors, Jason knew from years of interacting with them, don’t show emotion in the same manner humans do. Heartfelt pain often exhibited itself in outbursts of anger … even violence. Jason wasn’t present at the rhino encampment, within HAB 170, on that particular occasion, but apparently one less domed habitat was evident. So affected by the news about Ricket, Traveler pummeled the large dome residence into dust with his heavy hammer.
The four headed off, toward what Grimes described as an access tunnel into a subterranean pumping station. The outer blue tarp flapped in the early morning wind. Five chairs—one turned onto its side—and several large containers sat at the perimeter of the site, but it was five large lockers which captured Jason’s attention. They were Ricket’s … he’d seen them in his workshop.
“Those lockers look like—”
Jason cut Billy off: “Yeah, they’re Ricket’s. He spent last week preparing all this equipment for a Port City engineer.” What was his name? “For Silgin Burak.”
“We must find this Silgin Burak,” Traveler said, looking toward the far horizon.
Jason, Jackson, and Billy joined Traveler’s side.
“This is one ugly planet,” Billy said.
Jason couldn’t argue with that. Gray skies and a dull, colorless landscape surrounded them.
“And flat,” Jackson added, “like Kansas.”
Jason was being hailed. “Go for Captain. What do you have, Lieutenant?”
“Captain, there’s a small settlement to the east. Sensor readings tell me there are twenty-seven locals there … I think it’s some kind of barracks. Probably all sleeping since their life-icons are lined up in neat little rows.”
“Send me the coordinates; we’ll check it out.” Jason triggered the SuitPac device on his belt and, within two seconds, he was completely encased head to toe in an advanced, Caldurian-tech, battle suit. The others initiated their own suits right after him. Jason, seeing the coordinates for the barracks on his HUD, selected the group phase-shift option and phase-shifted the four of them away as a unit.
In a brilliant white flash they appeared eighteen miles eastward, appearing on the outside of the fifteen-foot-tall fencing of vertical metal bars—which encircled the entirety of the compound.
“Eriok’s version of quonset huts,” Jackson said.
Jason was thinking the same thing. No less than ten cylindrical buildings made up the little compound on the other side of the fence. And there was security … of a sort.
“What the hell are those things?” Billy asked.
“Dogs?” Jackson said.
“Naaah. Too big … and look at the tails,” Billy added.
Jason thought they looked more like small kangaroos—kangaroos with fangs.
Three of the beasts, noticing their presence, were now standing at the fence. Jason gave Traveler a quick nod and the rhino-warrior ripped apart the fence’s metal links as easily as if they were made of paper.
The pack of fanged kangaroo-wannabes’ number had grown to near twelve.
“See … they bark like dogs,” Jackson said, still trying to make his point to Billy.
The animals were making a terrible racket and they had begun to attack. One by one they rushed forward, their heads low and teeth bared. Jason felt jaws repeatedly clench and release at his ankles as he crossed through the hole in the fence. Although their suits protected them, it was an annoying experience just the same. Traveler kicked one of the beasts, sending it ten feet into the air. They scurried away from Traveler and concentrated more on Jason, Billy and Jackson. Because of their somewhat, though remote, similarity to dogs on Earth, Jason couldn’t bring himself to hurt them, and evidently, Billy and Jackson shared the same sentiment.
Traveler turned to Jason. “Start here?”
Jason looked for a doorway but couldn’t see one nearby. “Sure, good a place as any.”
Traveler used the business end of his heavy hammer to make an entrance into the first quonset hut’s siding. The noise was loud enough to frighten off the animals and send them into hiding.
Traveler was the first to enter the building. Jason inwardly smiled—as far as first impressions would go, he couldn’t imagine a more frightening sight than a seven-foot-tall, battle-suit-clad rhino-warrior. His four-hundred-pound hammer was icing on the cake.
Jason counted eight humanoid life signs on his HUD. As they entered, the eight scurried from their cots in surprise, obviously used to the racket of the animals. All eight were dressed in the same white boxer-like shorts and Eriok’s version of a wife-beater undershirt.
“Up against the wall … all of you. Move for a weapon, or make any quick movement, you’ll be stunned. It’s a very unpleasant feeling … one you don’t want to experience,” Billy said.
They did as instructed, raising their hands without being told.
They looked unkempt and grimy in their stained underclothes; Jason briefly wondered if they were an accurate cross-section of the people of Eriok. They stood side by side at the wall and nervously looked at their captors.
“We’re looking for Silgin Burak,” Jason said.
They quickly glanced between each other but held their tongues. Traveler raised his hammer several inches.
“Two buildings down … Burak’s two buildings down.”
“Jackson, keep an eye on these fellas while we check out the other barracks.”
“You got it, Cap.”
Jason, Billy, and Traveler hurried out through the ragged opening in the siding and rushed toward the barracks, two buildings away. Halfway there, they came to an abrupt halt. Jason realized the pack of vicious kangaroo-dogs weren’t the only security at this compound.
“Hired muscle?” Billy asked.
“Probably. Definitely not human,” Jason replied.
There were four of them and Jason’s earlier assumption that Traveler’s appearance would be traumatic to all the locals might have been incorrect. This foursome was equally frightening, if not more so. The shortest one was ten feet tall—the tallest, and biggest, was another foot above that. Their legs were thick as tree trunks … sequoias … and their arms were long and sinewy. They had faces only a mother could love: Mouths without lips explained the constant streams of dripping saliva, and their yellowed, cracked teeth constantly moved inside their jutting jaws. The clincher was a single large eye, placed mid-forehead. The giant Cyclops had pinkish hide covered in …
Billy said aloud, “Their warts really complete the picture … don’t you think?”
Traveler grunted. Clearly agitated, bursts of steamy snot puffed from his flaring nostrils.
Each monstrous-looking beast held a weapon. Jason’s HUD indicated they were plasma-based rifles.
Behind the Cyclops a group of Eriok men had gathered.
“We’re here to speak with Silgin Burak … there doesn’t need to be any trouble here. We’re looking for our shipmate. We’re looking for Ricket. Just tell us where he is and we’ll be on our way,” Jason told them.
One of the locals—pudgy and partially bald—stepped forward. What hair he lacked on the top of his head was made up for by numerous black tufts of chest hair, billowing out from the top of his wife-beater undershirt, as well as from under his armpits. He smiled and looked confidently complacent. “I think you’ve found yourselves in a bit of trouble anyway.” In a defiant gesture, he pointed his chin in the direction behind Jason.
Four more! For some reason, his HUD hadn’t detected them. He’d seen it happen before; technology only did so much … then, one by one, life-icons of the now eight Cyclops showed on his HUD. Database updated.
“You Burak?”
He raised his furry brows. “Who’s asking?”
“Captain Jason Reynolds … Star Watch. Answer the question.”
“You found me. But I have nothing to tell you. Best you leave here and don’t come back. From what I understand, those creatures eat their prey.”
“Where’s Ricket?”
“Nowhere you’ll ever find him.”
That was all Jason needed to hear. He’d already reconfigured his multi-gun to its highest, most-lethal, setting. He shot the tallest of the Cyclops in the face. He’d aimed for the eye, but was off by at least an inch to its right.
A blackened scorch mark did nothing to improve its looks, and it didn’t kill it either. In an instant the air was filled with streaks of crisscrossing plasma fire. The Cyclops’ weapons were, technologically, far inferior to their own … but the Cyclops were an amazingly robust species. Their hides were like armor.
Traveler rushed for the big one; in three strides, hammer held high over his head, he attacked. The Cyclops took the brunt of the blow high up on its chest. There was a sickening sound, a thud mixed with the sound of cracking bones and tearing flesh. The hammer came away, leaving a three-inch-deep indentation.
The Cyclops staggered but stayed on its feet. It flipped its large rifle around and used it like a bat, swinging it widely toward Traveler’s head, but missed by a mile. Traveler did something Jason had never seen him do before—the rhino’s version of a head-butt. Traveler dove headfirst, horn first, into the Cyclops. The point on his horn entered the beast’s chest where his hammer had made an indent. The Cyclops died where it stood.
Jason hailed Jackson. “Need you out here, big guy.”
“On my way,” Jackson replied.
Jason turned toward Billy, who’d yet to engage any of the Cyclops. “You got this?”
“We got this.”
Jason located Burak. He stood in the middle of a small crowd, his arms crossed over his chest.
Jason phase-shifted over, and in the blink of an eye stood directly in front of the oily little man. He took ahold of Burak by the upper arms and phase-shifted again.
Ricket (Star Watch Book 2) Page 5
