Ricket (Star Watch Book 2)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “Where’s Boomer?” Jason asked, craning his neck to look out the side observation window.

  “I’m right here. Dad!”

  Confused, Jason looked toward the copilot’s empty seat. She instantly appeared, sitting with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are we going to go, or what?”

  Outside, an army of Alurian bugs had shifted their focus to the shuttle. The small vessel began taking on plasma fire from virtually every direction.

  The onboard AI announced the ship’s shields were down to ninety-eight percent. Jason brought the shuttle up and off the airstrip, goosing the propulsion system forward while turning in a wide arc, over the heads of the angry mob below. Halfway down the runway, the shuttle was phase-shifted away.

  Chapter 25

  High Orbit Over Alurian, Gracow CD1 System

  Assailant, Flight Bay

  __________________________

  Jason watched as Billy and Rizzo walked the three new Caldurian prisoners down the gangway and off to join the other three already being held within the Assailant’s hold.

  “I’m sorry, Captain, but the Assailant’s bay was not designed to accommodate a shuttle of such size,” Chief Petty Officer Gomez said, apologetically. “It’s about three feet higher, two feet wider, and easily five feet longer than the Perilous.”

  Jason stood with his hands on his hips, looking up at the top of the shuttle. The three hanging light fixtures overhead had instantly shattered when they phase-shifted into the flight bay. He was really starting to miss the Minian.

  “You’ll have to figure something out, Mr. Gomez. That shuttle is an important asset. We all need to do our part to make any necessary accommodation. As of now, she is our only Caldurian vessel.”

  “Yes, sir. I suppose we can figure something out. Make room … somehow.”

  “That’s the spirit. I’ll let you get back to work.” Turning to leave, Jason was hailed.

  “Go for Captain.”

  “Captain, we have a serious situation on the bridge.”

  “On my way, XO.”

  Jason picked up his pace. Even though the Assailant was a relatively small ship, half the size of The Lilly, not having the convenience of DeckPorts on board to instantly move between decks, from the stern of the vessel—where the flight bay was located—to the forward bridge, took him close to eight minutes, jogging double-time. Tempted to break his own rule—no inner-ship phase-shifts—he resisted the urge and jogged faster.

  Seven-and-a-half minutes later, Jason rushed into the bridge. “What’s up, XO?”

  Perkins relinquished the command chair. “That, sir,” he said, gesturing to the forward display.

  Jason sat down in the vacated seat and took in the logistical feed. “That’s quite a fleet … let me guess, our friend Captain Mar Oswaldo?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve color-coded the Carrion red … she’s there, in the middle of the pack.”

  Jason wasn’t surprised to see Captain Oz and the Carrion in that section of space. The Assailant wasn’t particularly far away, in relative light-year terms, from the CAP-RIM star system, where they had their last encounter with Oz.

  Orion reported, “Twenty-eight warships, mostly destroyers and battle-cruisers. There are also several large vessels the AI does not recognize. In all, a formidable force.”

  “What has he been up to lately?”

  “It looks like he’s continuing on with the same directive—to reestablish the Darion Empire’s boundary back to its former size.”

  “Boundaries that were established a thousand years ago and spanned close to two hundred light-years,” Jason added. “Can you put that section of the galaxy up, along with an overlay, showing that empire’s earlier boundaries?”

  Orion did as asked. Jason recognized several of the once-existing star systems, now revealed in an orange background. The former area included a vast section of the sector.

  “Now put up the areas he’s already retaken.”

  The logistical display updated. Close to the middle of the vast, orange-delineated section of space, approximately one-sixteenth of the total area, an odd-shaped octagon section was registering as light blue. It spanned a distance of six or seven total light-years.

  Jason studied the display. “Gunny, show me Earth, as it relates to this perspective.”

  The display refreshed, and off to the left, clearly within the confines of the orange overlay, a new, added, circle appeared. Orion zoomed in on that particular section of space until the Sol solar system came clearly into view.

  “At his current rate of advancement, it’s estimated Oz’s fleet will reach the Sol system within five to eight years.” She then zoomed back out to the previous view.

  There were millions, if not billions, of stars contained within that area, once known as the Darion Empire. Realistically, for Oz to take control, Jason knew they only needed to deal with civilizations capable of space travel, and those exhibiting a strong military presence. “Now, Gunny, show me the systems capable of putting up resistance.”

  It took a full minute before the display refreshed to show multiple, newly added, green circles.

  “Two hundred and thirty-six civilizations currently maintain military space fleets. Most, if not all, would quickly fall to Captain Oz’s fleet.”

  “Okay. Now show me the Alliance’s borders.”

  Orion, already prepared for his request, displayed the odd-shaped borders of the Alliance, outlined in bright purple. Earth was positioned within the purple borders, but barely, as well as other planetary areas, including all of Corian Nez.

  A far bigger issue than the Alliance ever realized, Jason had no idea what the current death toll now was due to the Darion Cartel’s continuing space-grab—and what it had elevated to. Millions? Billions? More? It was one thing to defeat other forces in space, but it was quite another to subjugate those conquered societies, as the Craing Empire had done previously. No, it took the Craing hundreds of years of strategic planning to physically accomplish the takeover of so many worlds and to occupy vast sections of space. The Craing typically utilized the prisoners—taken from those vanquished worlds—to do their fighting for them. Jason couldn’t see the Darion Cartel going to such almost-unimaginable lengths. In reality, most worlds wouldn’t be impacted in the least—even aware they were now positioned within new borders reestablished by the Darion Empire.

  “How could things progress to this … level so fast?” Perkins asked, his voice lowered.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think the late Admiral Dixon really knew the extent of the Cartel’s unhindered advancement. But it should have been recognized, and dealt with far sooner.”

  Perkins looked concerned. “We already have the Caldurians to deal with. We’re pretty much at war with them today, yes?”

  Jason nodded, bringing his thoughts back to the fleet of twelve warships here in space within the Gracow CD1 system. He felt his blood pressure rise as his irritation grew. Within weeks of their defeating the Craing, Alliance’s high command quickly gutted the fleet. Warships were mothballed, service men and women sent home. Did they honestly believe, once Star Watch was formed, that alone it could sufficiently police the vast borders within Allied space? Now, after years of hard fought war, they were once again in jeopardy.

  Jason stood. “Have a seat, XO … I’ve got some long-distance directives to initiate that could take me a while.”

  * * *

  Jason took a seat at the desk in his ready room. He took a moment to organize his thoughts before making the interstellar call to his father. His eyes fell on the toaster-sized black box, sitting on the deck near his feet. In an earlier rush, he’d left it there—meaning to take a closer look when he had more time. Reaching for it he hefted it up and turned it around in his hands. It was perfectly symmetrical, without seams or openings. How in hell does one look inside the thing? It occurred to him, he was juggling too many things—nothing getting done. He set the box back down on his desk, and pushed it aside. One thi
ng at a time, he mused to himself. He contacted Seaman Gordon and prompted him to issue an interstellar comms request to Admiral Reynolds, back in the Sol system. While he waited he thought about Dira, and felt an all-too-familiar tightening in his chest. He wondered if he could ever do anything without her and didn’t think so. His eyes fell back onto the black box. Without Ricket or Bristol … or even Granger around, how the hell would he know what to do with the thing?

  “Jason?”

  Jason saw his father, back in uniform, on the virtual display. “Dad … tell me … how is she?”

  There was a pause before his father spoke again: “I wish I could give you better news. She’s alive, son … but just barely. The MediPod is keeping her vitals steady, but for how long no one is really sure. Tell me how your search for Ricket is going.”

  “We’re in close proximity to the Caldurian fleet. We’re cloaked and keeping an eye on them. We believe the Parcical is there too, and hopefully Ricket is on board.” Jason quickly reached for the box and looked thoughtful. “Son of a … it just occurred to me, I might have a bargaining chip.”

  “That’s good, Jason. You’ll need to hurry, though. You understand that, right?”

  Jason could hear the tension in his father’s voice. “I do. Listen, we need to change subjects here.”

  “I’m all ears,” the admiral said.

  “Gunny’s going to send you what we have—what’s been transpiring with the Darion Cartel, with Captain Oz, and their recent arrival here within the sector.”

  “Oz is there?”

  “He, and a fleet of twenty-eight warships. It’s a substantial force that’s been allowed to run rampant and unchecked far too long. I know that the Allied fleet command since the end of the Craing war wanted to avoid future wars … and even skirmishes … at all cost, but their lack of taking Oz and his cartel seriously, taking prompt action, will have devastating repercussions for years to come.”

  “I’ve been coming up to speed,” the admiral said. “Apparently, after I went into retirement, many decisions were made that shouldn’t have been. The Allied forces, along with the U.S. space fleet, were disassembled. I’ve taken it upon myself to amend some of those decisions. I hope you don’t mind. We haven’t had time to speak—”

  Jason cut in, “Listen, Dad … Admiral … we can talk about rebuilding our assets later. But right now, we need to deal with what’s going on here and the issues at hand. You’ve proven yourself in battle, over and over again. No one trumps you when it comes to battle strategy. Your goal, your highest priority right now, is to defeat Captain Oz and drive the Darion Cartel back to their own small corner of the galaxy. Re-mobilize what’s left of our fleet and also talk to the Alliance leaders, in case their involvement is necessary. Whatever resources we have, I’m now putting at your disposal. But I need to be kept in the loop.”

  “I understand, Jason, but we can’t allocate our entire arsenal toward that one enemy when another, even more powerful, has already attacked us and is looming nearby.”

  “Let me deal with the Caldurians. Let’s be frank, Dad … we can’t prevail over Caldurians using conventional weapons … the ones available to us. We no longer have The Lilly. We no longer have the Minian. Today, our forces are a mere shell of what they were even six months ago.”

  “Huh … you sure know how to paint a rosy picture, Jason.”

  “But what we do have is cunning. And, yes, we still have a few tricks up our sleeves. Take Captain Oz and his fleet off my plate—make a stand and defeat him. Let me deal with the Caldurians and getting Ricket and the others safely returned to us. Can you do that?”

  “Hell … I don’t know. We lost more than warships when the Caldurians barreled through here and took out Jefferson Station. We lost a good portion of our command structure. Listen, I’ll do my very best.”

  “That’s all I can ask for, Admiral.”

  “Good luck, Jason.”

  The feed went dark and Jason, feeling that at least some of the heavy load had been lifted from his shoulders, sighed in relief. He sat back and again looked at the black box. If indeed it actually were something they could use as a bargaining chip, he needed to contact the captain of the Parcical without divulging their own coordinates. They would be dealing with a vessel that had an even higher level of technology than the Minian. Shit, who knew what they’d be up against? Jason hailed Orion.

  “Go for Gunny. Yes, Captain?”

  “Be in my ready room in five minutes. I want Billy, Jackson and Rizzo there, too.” He was about to ask her to contact Traveler, before remembering the rhino was back in HAB 170—accessible only from the Minian. Would he ever see his old friend again? “Just the four of you for now, Gunny … five minutes.” He looked up and saw Boomer standing in the hatch.

  “Whatever you’re planning … I’m going.”

  He didn’t even try to argue with her. Truth was, their odds of success without her help were beyond terrible. “You’ll follow my orders?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then you’ll need to sit in on this meeting.”

  Boomer smiled. “I’ll give you another Kahill Callan lesson, if you want? You’re still not very good at using an enhancement shield.”

  “Yeah … well, I’m not so bad with a multi-gun.”

  Chapter 26

  High Orbit Over Alurian, Gracow CD1 System

  Minian, Ricket’s Workshop

  __________________________

  For six hours straight Ricket sat perfectly still at a terminal within his workshop. Bypassing the far too slow manual input device, he’d tapped in directly, via his NanoCom, to communicate with Beatrice and the Minian’s AI. All together, they possessed substantial processing power for working on one particular problem. He needed administrator access to only one vault—theirs, the vault they were situated in. Undoubtedly, there were many others … perhaps hundreds of separate vaults under the purview of the Parcical’s AI. Pure and simple, Ricket was attempting to hack into the Parcical. He only had one access point: the partially operational virtual pedestal located in the Minian’s mess.

  Ricket and his two AI assistants were not in pursuit of the highest executive or command-level access. That could take them days or even weeks. He simply wanted access to their present MicroVault, and class-level access would be sufficient for that.

  Distracted, Ricket noticed movement. Traveler was standing in the workshop’s entrance. Placing all internal processes on momentary hold, he said, “Hello, Traveler.”

  “What are we waiting for? We should leave this place.”

  “Yes, Traveler, I’m working on that. I’m trying to find Bristol … then we can leave.”

  “He’s still alive? You said he was …” Traveler paused, searching for the correct word to use, “… deleted.”

  “He was. I determined that unequivocally.”

  Traveler didn’t respond to that.

  “But I noticed something interesting,” Ricket continued. “There were alterations made to the vault’s catalogue. Not like something was added to its storage area, such as a ship or another person, but the size of the vault’s buffer has grown significantly.”

  “I don’t understand anything you are talking about,” Traveler said, his irritation obviously mounting.

  “In simple terms, Bristol was deleted from this virtual space … but that does not mean nothing remains of him. Like a deleted file, he still is, hopefully, in one piece—only he’s now contained in a buffer, or a temporary holding space, like a trash file. If we can access that file before something is written on top of it, or the MicroVault’s trash buffer is emptied, we may be able to retrieve him … bring him back into this virtual realm.”

  “Just tell me when Bristol will return.”

  “If he can be brought back at all, it will happen within the next few minutes. Please let me continue with what I am doing.”

  Traveler snorted and left. Ricket resumed where he, Beatrice, and the Minian’s AI had left off. The
y were at a crucial juncture. Up until now, their presence hadn’t been detected by the Parcical’s AI. It was imperative that their intrusion into the MicroVault only come across as one of billions of sub-processes going on in the background, which meant, at least mathematically, all checksums matched perfectly. That redundant, as well as arbitrary, security measures come back normal. Six hours and ten minutes into the hack, Ricket finally gained class-level access. He allowed himself a small smile. But their work was not quite over. With his newly acquired access, he began searching. There were trillions of parallel transactions taking place, all at the same time. The Parcical’s AI constantly remained in a housekeeping state of maintenance: cleanup, reorganizing, and updating. Where is the trash bin? Ah, there you are! He’d found it. Actually, there were thousands of trash bins, but he knew the one he specifically looked for had been accessed on a particular day and time and in a particular MicroVault—theirs. He opened the trash bin and found two separate objects: Bristol and—most surprisingly—Granger! Although the virtual files still appeared to be perfectly intact, how long did he have before the AI’s maintenance protocols automatically emptied the trash? He didn’t know.

  Okay, Ricket reasoned to himself, this next part would be dangerous. Not only to Bristol and Granger, who still could be permanently deleted, but to all others at risk on the Minian. His hack may well be detected.

  Ricket once again placed his, and the two AIs’, intrusive hack process on hold. He got to his feet and hurried into the Minian’s recently built MicroVault terminal, just across the corridor. Was it ready for what was needed? Was it capable of moving more than just an inanimate object, like a coffee cup?

  He wasn’t sure. He stood in the middle of the compartment and spoke aloud. “Beatrice … have I done all that I can … have we missed something?”