Ricket (Star Watch Book 2)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “Can we catch them … go through it, along with them?”

  “Not without phase-shifting, sir.”

  Jason didn’t like that option—that could possibly make their presence known to the Caldurian fleet.

  Gunny must have read his thoughts. “They know we’re here, somewhere, Cap … we dropped in on four of their ships and abducted three of their captains.”

  “Let’s wait until their last ship enters the mouth of the wormhole. Only then, phase-shift in, following behind it.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  There was no way Jason was going to lose sight of their twelve ships. Somewhere in that mix was the Parcical, and maybe even Ricket.

  Two of their massive ships had already passed through the wormhole; the other ten were rapidly converging behind them. Suddenly Jason realized he hadn’t attempted to hail Ricket directly, via his NanoCom, for several hours. He brought two fingers to his ear and tried hailing him. Almost immediately, he heard Ricket’s voice—sounding distant and hollow.

  “Captain! You must warn Jeffer—” The connection was cut off.

  All eyes were on Jason. “Did you get Ricket?” Orion asked.

  “I did, but he was cut off. It sounded like he was telling me to warn Jefferson Station.” Jason pointed to Seaman Gordon. “Get on the horn … let them know they may have company.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Seaman Gordon nodded and quickly turned back toward his station.

  The last of the Caldurian vessels could be seen entering the mouth of the wormhole.

  “Phase-shifting now, Captain,” McNeil said, and everything flashed white.

  The display suddenly changed; they were now at the mouth of the gaping wormhole. The final Caldurian ship was already gone from view.

  “Good job, McNeil, you timed that perfectly. Extremely close, but perfectly.”

  “Wormhole is collapsing, Captain,” Orion said.

  By the time her words were spoken, the Assailant had already entered—was safely within the space anomaly’s grasp.

  Then, just as quickly, they exited the wormhole.

  In the far distance the bright blue planet Earth appeared, looking small and vulnerable. Their current distance from Earth was about five times the distance between the Earth and moon—or somewhere near a million miles. Between their ship and Earth were a dozen mile-long vessels, and somewhere, too, a significantly smaller cloaked vessel—the Parcical.

  “Hail coming in from Jefferson Station, Captain.”

  “Put it on screen, Seaman Gordon.”

  Admiral Dixon’s worried, line-creased face filled the display. “Captain Reynolds, what the hell have you done? If you’re responsible for bringing that fleet—”

  Jason cut him off. “We had nothing to do with their arrival. We’re cloaked and they haven’t observed our presence. We simply followed them here. Admiral … listen to me … they’re there to grab the Minian … you need to phase-shift her out—”

  The admiral cut Jason off, “No! She’s in no shape … she’s a mess. All her navigation and propulsion systems are offline.”

  “Get me Granger!” Jason barked, not having time for an argument. The Minian’s phase-shifting ability was neither a part of the propulsion nor the navigation systems, and he strongly suspected Dixon to be clueless about such details.

  The admiral looked indignant, ready to put Jason in his place; instead, he looked away to talk to someone nearby. A moment later, Granger’s face took the place of the admiral’s on the display.

  “What is it, Captain Reynolds?”

  “A fleet of your brethren are here in local space, and from the looks of it, ready to take back their ship. Can the Minian be phase-shifted away … like right now?”

  Granger immediately shook his head, then stopped, as if considering something else. “It will take me twenty minutes to reconnect the interface. Alone, I don’t think I have time.”

  “How about if I sent you a little help?”

  “Do it!”

  Jason scanned the bridge. Of course, Bristol wasn’t there. That would be too easy.

  “I’m already on it, Cap … he’s in the mess,” Orion said. “I’ve forwarded the Minian’s bridge coordinates to him.”

  “Helm, phase-shift us closer in to Jefferson Station … close enough for Bristol to phase-shift onto the Minian.”

  “Yes, sir … that will take several consecutive phase-shifts … but I’m on it, Captain.”

  Jason realized he’d been holding his breath and forced himself to breathe. Including the Craing, there had never before been such a powerful, imposing, alien force within this close proximity to Earth. The Caldurians were not known for any ruthlessness—he couldn’t recall an instance where they had arbitrarily attacked another without provocation. But what the three Caldurian captains confessed—if they had told the truth—was that the Caldurians might just be desperate enough to do something out of character. If so, the base at Jefferson Station, and any Allied or U.S. fleet asset stationed there, was in jeopardy. Hell, Earth was in jeopardy.

  Several bright flashes occurred and Jefferson Station filled the forward display. Jefferson Station, and its adjoining Allied fleet base, was always an impressive sight. Details of the sprawling space base became more apparent as they approached. Sited closer to the moon than Earth, four sprawling military platforms for the Allied combined fleets could now be seen; dozens of moored warships idled there, scheduled for maintenance for one thing or another. But it was Jefferson Station that held their full attention. As the recognized seat of the Alliance, most major decision-making policy took place there. The station went up against all preconceived, conventional design principles, but with that said, it appeared beautiful and inspiring, yet immense and intimidating at the same time. Jason had spent some significant time there over the last few months, but still, upon seeing it again, he found it captivating. There was the center hub disk, or saucer, spanning a thirty-mile radius, where the primary station’s populace conducted business and resided. Encircling the hub, almost twenty miles out, was a thick outer ring, which had ten constantly rotating, encircling, round rings spaced evenly along the structure. Jason thought the smaller perpendicular rings looked somewhat like little Ferris wheels.

  Orion said, “There are several Alliance meganaughts, five dreadnaughts, and one hundred and twenty heavy and light cruisers in the immediate area.”

  The Minian, clearly visible to them now, was secured to the outer station ring.

  “Captain, Bristol has phase-shifted onto the Minian’s bridge.”

  “Thank you, Gunny. What’s the ETA of the inbound Caldurian fleet?”

  “If they don’t phase-shift, like we just did, about ten minutes.”

  “Sir, it’s Admiral Dixon again,” Seaman Gordon reported.

  Jason gestured toward the forward display and waited for the crusty officer to appear.

  “I hope you understand the predicament we’re in, Captain. We’re mobilizing our assets and preparing for battle.”

  “Well, that’s a big mistake, Admiral. You need to stand down and remain with the status quo … don’t do anything … anything at all … that would be construed as aggressive.”

  “I don’t take orders from you, Captain. I think you’ve forgotten your place. We’re calling all forces to battle stations; we’re certainly not backing down from an obviously hostile invasion of our sovereign space.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Admiral! Just one of those Caldurian vessels will mop the floor with our fleet assets, let alone twelve.”

  Admiral Dixon’s face darkened several shades of red, his building anger clearly evident. “Damn you, Reynolds. You’re on report. As of this moment I’m relieving you of your command. Helm officer … I’m ordering you to bring the Assailant into a directed berth. Captain, report to my office when you arrive.”

  The feed went black. McNeil turned in his seat and faced Jason. “Orders, Captain?”

  Jason had to smile at that. He thought abou
t their situation and rose from the command chair. “I have no intention of following the admiral’s orders. Any of you are free to leave the bridge if you wish to stand with Admiral Dixon.”

  No one made a move toward the exit.

  “Captain, Allied and U.S. fleet assets are on the move. All manned vessels within the area have been ordered to their battle stations,” Orion said.

  “Somebody give me a live visual feed of the Minian’s bridge,” Jason said.

  When the live feed came across, Jason’s heart sank. Virtually every console was torn apart, exposing inner circuitry and cables. Only Bristol’s legs could be seen, protruding beneath the ship’s forward, right-helm station. Tempted to ask them their progress, he resisted the impulse, knowing they were working as quickly as possible. Any distraction would only hinder their progress.

  Low but excited murmurs were heard coming from the tactical station.

  “What is it, Gunny?”

  “Sergeant Stone thinks she knows where the Parcical is.”

  Jason saw Stone nervously look up from the board before her, to Orion, then over at him. “What do you see, Sergeant?”

  “Another glimmer … I think it happens just prior to, and just after, phase-shifts. When other Caldurian vessels arrive and depart there’s always a bright white flash. Only it seems this one particular ship momentarily glimmers, instead. You have to be looking out for it to see it. Fortunately, I know what to look for.”

  “Well … where is it then?” Jason asked impatiently.

  Stone replied, “She’s in close … ten miles out from the Minian’s starboard side. She jumped ahead of the rest of their fleet.”

  “Captain, four Allied dreadnaughts … the Cornice, the Atlantic, the Bridgestone, and the Shire have moved into a line. They’re powering guns,” Orion shouted.

  “Gordon … put me on the screen of every local Allied and U.S. vessel. Do it now!”

  It took five seconds before Gordon said, “You’re live, Captain.”

  Jason took a half step closer to the forward display. “I am Captain Jason Reynolds … I’m sure most of you know who I am. What you don’t know is that I also hold the fleet rank of Rear Admiral. Bridge commanders, you need to stand down … right now! We cannot go up against twelve Caldurian vessels. Do not … I repeat … do not engage the approaching Caldurian fleet. Hold your positions and wait for further orders from me.”

  Jason was well aware he’d just torched his career. Not only had he disobeyed the direct orders of a superior, he’d blatantly incited fleet-wide mutiny. Screw it. What was happening now was far too important to worry about the rules.

  “The Caldurian fleet has picked up speed, Captain. ETA is less than five minutes, before they reach the line of Allied dreadnaughts,” Orion said.

  Jason saw Perkins hurrying into the bridge, making a beeline for him.

  “I’ve been instructed to relieve you of your command, sir.”

  “Thank you for the update, XO.” The two officers held each other’s stare for several long beats, as the bridge went quiet. Jason had always found Perkins’ go by the book, risk-adverse style of command irritating. More than once, he’d wanted to tell his second-in-command to grow a pair, but he hadn’t, because the man was the perfect counterpart to his own off the book command style. As captain, Jason probably played things far too loose; he definitely took far too many risks. No … he needed Perkins’ careful, measured influence, at least sometimes. But right then wasn’t one of those times.

  Perkins spoke first. “Message delivered, sir. What can I do to help?”

  “Help Gordon on comms. He’s inundated with fleet-wide requests.”

  As Perkins joined Seaman Gordon’s side, Jason kept his eyes focused on the Minian’s bridge. Bristol, now standing, was talking to Granger. Holding two fingers up to his ear, Jason heard Granger’s incoming NanoCom hail.

  “What’s your status, Granger?” Jason asked.

  “We’ll attempt to phase-shift within the next minute or two. Stand by.”

  Damn, a minute or two, right now, is like an eternity. “Hurry,” was all Jason could say.

  “The Cornice and the Atlantic have moved from their positions. They’re letting the fleet pass through. Looks like you made an impression on the fleet commanders, Captain,” Orion said.

  Perkins spun on his heels. “Captain! Jefferson Station … they’ve sided with the admiral. I can hear their chatter.”

  The forward display now showed a wide, external view of Jefferson Station. Plasma fire was erupting from no less than twenty on-station cannons. Bright red energy streaks crisscrossed open space, heading toward the incoming Caldurian fleet.

  Somehow, during the action, Jason didn’t initially notice that the Minian was no longer parked alongside the outer ring of the space station. Did Bristol and Granger manage to phase-shift her away?

  Sergeant Stone said, “It was the Parcical … sir. There was no phase-shift. Both the Minian and Parcical are gone.”

  Before Jason could respond, the first of many explosions in space occurred. Before their eyes, they watched the Caldurian fleet of twelve Master Class ships return fire. Jason, like everyone else on the bridge, stood paralyzed—unable to do anything but watch as the station’s outer ring took the initial plasma blasts. The firepower that these newer Master Class warships were inflicting upon the Alliance headquarters was beyond terrible … it was catastrophic. Huge segments of Jefferson Station’s outer ring were floating free among thousands and thousands of smaller, fractured sections—among that debris, Jason knew, were many bodies … some, even now, dying a horrible death within the icy vacuum of space. God, let that be the end of it … Jason thought. But it wasn’t the end. If anything, the Caldurian fleet increased their barrage, turning what remained of the other ring, the larger sections, into nothing more than space dust.

  Hearing her rapid intake of a breath, Jason was aware of Orion, now standing at her station. “How can they do this? Why?”

  Jason was afraid to move, afraid to even breathe … hoping that the Caldurians would be satisfied with the devastation they’d already caused. The station’s central saucer still remained. Tens of thousands of people were still alive … would live to see tomorrow.

  After a long period where no more plasma fire came from the Caldurian fleet, Jason was close to letting out his own breath and relaxing just a bit. But the bright plasma fire erupted again, and in one more simultaneously choreographed show of ruthless power, Jefferson Station’s massive central saucer was atomized by an explosion the likes, the intensity, that Jason had never experienced before.

  Chapter 15

  Sol Solar System

  Assailant, Bridge

  __________________________

  Silent, shocked astonishment was soon replaced by voices expressing emotional outrage. Jason watched as the twelve Caldurian Master Class ships methodically moved away, passing Earth’s moon, until the black vessels were no longer visible against the equally dark backdrop of space.

  Jason’s fists tightened—his knuckles turning white—as he stood perfectly still. He vowed he’d have his revenge on the Caldurians … Once again, and unequivocally, Earth was at war with an alien race.

  “Captain!”

  Jason turned, seeing Orion standing by his side. How long has she been there? How long have I been lost in thought?

  “Captain … some of it’s still there … look!” she said, pointing to the display.

  Behind a space cloud of debris, continuing to flash with hundreds of smaller, micro explosions, was what remained of Jefferson Station. About one-fifth its original size, a ragged segment of the inner saucer was now visible.

  Perkins and Gordon were at the comms station, seeming overwhelmed by the increased level of inbound communications.

  “Have Sergeant Stone give them a hand,” Jason said to Orion.

  Perkins, two fingers up to his ear, turned toward Jason from across the bridge. He looked white as a ghost and ready to throw
up—pretty much like others of the crew. Jason went over to his side.

  “Captain … fleet commanders are requesting orders. They want to assist in rescue searches for possible survivors.”

  Jason looked toward the display. Could there be any? “Have you made contact with anyone? Is someone still alive on the station? Survivors?”

  “Yes … the section that remains does contain crew barracks … some of the Minian’s crew were temporarily on duty at the station. I talked to the ranking officer … a Lieutenant Kline.”

  “Wait … hundreds of officers were stationed there … generals and admirals … ambassadors and dignitaries, from the far outer reaches of the Alliance.”

  Perkins stared back at Jason, obviously not knowing what to say. Jason, feeling a hand on his shoulder, turned to see Billy behind him. He regarded his friend’s familiar reassuring face.

  “Walk with me,” Billy said.

  Jason, looking disoriented and confused, simply stared back at Billy. Others on the bridge had taken notice. The bridge was going quiet.

  “Come on … let’s go,” Billy said, gesturing with his chin toward the exit.

  “Um … now? I don’t know … go now? In the midst of all—”

  “Now, Jason.”

  Jason followed his friend off the bridge and into the central corridor away from all the concerned faces of the bridge crew. Once clear of the bridge entrance, Billy suddenly stopped in his tracks and spun around, facing Jason.

  Jason looked blankly back at Billy.

  “You’re in shock. If you could see what I’m seeing, you’d know what I’m talking about.”

  Jason didn’t argue with him. He shook his head repeatedly as if hearing something in his head; voices he didn’t want to listen to … didn’t want to accept. He looked down at the deck … at his boots.

  “Look at me, Jason!”

  Jason refused to meet Billy’s eyes. He spoke quietly, barely above a whisper: “Billy, I … I killed all those people … might as well have pulled the trigger myself.”