“We can get it open,” Collin said.
“Well, you better be able to close it again too. This is an airlock, remember? Look around you. More than a few of us don’t have battle suits on,” the admiral said.
“Take our suits,” Collin said, already removing his helmet.
“I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Frost, but that won’t solve the prob—”
“Actually, it might,” Collin cut in. “Remember, sir … we’re not from around here. Different molecular structure … and all that. I think we can last longer.” Collin felt the back of his battle suit fall open as Bubba pulled the flange down from his shoulders. Before Collin could ask for other volunteers, Bubba, Darren, Humphrey, Lydia, Tink, and Royce White were already in the process of extracting themselves from their own battle suits.
“Shit, it’s hot!” Humphrey exclaimed, looking as though he were having second thoughts. Reluctantly, he helped the principessa into his now-vacated battle suit. The admiral fitted himself into Collin’s suit and, within minutes, other suit exchanges were also completed.
Bubba, Humphrey and Collin positioned themselves in front of the hatchway—each grabbed a firm hold along the inside edge. “Pull it towards us,” Collin directed.
They pulled in unison. The threesome’s combined strength caused the hatch to creak and groan as it soon began to give way. Collin felt the soles of his shoes starting to melt and stick to the deck plating.
“Hurry, my fucking toes are on fire,” Humphrey cried out between clenched teeth.
The hatch came free with a loud clang. They hefted the wide double hatch out and away and placed it against the bulkhead, off to the side. First the Righteous Warriors, next the principessa, and then the admiral filed in.
Tears were running down both Tink and Lydia’s cheeks. The rising heat was becoming unbearable, and Collin wondered if they could survive much longer.
“Lydia, Tink, and you, too, Royce … Inside.” The temperature was significantly cooler within the airlock. Collin surmised it was due to its proximity to the open space beyond, but he wasn’t really sure. With the exception of Bubba and himself, the rest of the Lone Stars quickly hustled into the small airlock.
“Help me prop the hatch back into its opening, Bubba,” Collin said. He was now feeling a sizzling on the soles of his feet. He thought he could smell his own flesh burning. They got the hatch propped back on.
At the far side of what now was aptly an airlock chamber, a ship could be seen as it maneuvered into position, through a series of small portholes halfway up the bulkhead.
The space station began to shake, making it difficult for anyone to stay on his or her feet. A distant rumble grew in intensity, to the point they could no longer hear anything else. Nero Station was on the verge of total annihilation.
Collin stood at the back of the airlock; he and Bubba had found vertical struts to pull themselves onto—just enough so their feet were several inches above the scalding deck plates. Both Tink and Lydia jumped onto the backs of two other Lone Stars still wearing battle suits.
“What the hell’s taking them so long?” Humphrey yelled; he was one of the few to look out through a porthole. “We’re being cooked alive in here and all they can do is point to the hatch?”
Then it hit Collin like a freight train. Of course! The power was out. The only way the outer hatch could open was if it was pried open from the inside. Collin, Bubba and Humphrey were in no shape to physically pull another hatch free. No way. But apparently the same conclusion came to Clifford Bosh, Owen Platt and Garry Hurst. The three positioned themselves much the same way Collin, Bubba, and Humphrey had earlier, when removing the other inner hatch.
The outer hatchway broke free and immediately the vacuum of space’s atmosphere was sucked from around the outer hatch. The inside hatch, behind Collin, began to flutter but kept holding. Other Lone Stars, fighting the sucking-out of the atmosphere around them, moved in to get handholds on the outer hatch; together, they moved it out of the way. Collin could now see the other ship several feet out from the space station. Two men in battle suits were frantically gesturing for everyone to jump over. As the inhabitants within the airlock’s confined space jumped over, one at a time, to the waiting ship, Collin found he couldn’t move. He hadn’t anticipated the frigid cold—and, without any breathable air, he simply wasn’t going to make it. The last thing he saw, before blacking out, was Bubba’s still body flying toward the outer hatch.
Chapter 43
Collin was somewhat aware that he might be having the same dream again, but that was alright—that was good. His father had just tossed another southern cypress branch onto the fire. The forest had come alive with the sounds of night creatures, and one particularly noisy owl, with its repetitive hoo hoo hoo.
His father settled onto a stump next to his son and stared into the flames. “You did good today, boy.”
“How can you say that? I didn’t even get one shot off, Dad.”
His father took a sip from his steaming cup and smiled. “That’s not important.”
Collin’s eyes found the outline of his father’s old F150 parked thirty yards away, in between two ancient oaks. The four-pointer his father brought down with a clean shot, from sixty yards away, was now secured in the truck’s bed beneath a tarp.
“It’s usually the how … not the what, that’s important.”
Collin didn’t always understand his father’s musings. Sometimes it would take him a few days for their meaning to become apparent. Sometimes he never did figure them out. Asking for clarification was pointless … his father would simply answer with a blank stare. A stare that said … figure it out, kid.
Collin brought his attention back to his father and wondered what he was thinking about. Was he half the world away, in the scrub tundra of Afghanistan? Back when he was Second Lieutenant John Frost?
The dancing flames played across his father’s blue plaid shirt, which suddenly morphed into the subtle green-and-tan camo pattern of his army combat uniform. Now, a combat helmet sits on his head, where only a moment before rested a faded, Houston Astros baseball cap. Collin’s heart began to race … he knew what was happening because he’d had this same dream a hundred, no, a thousand times before. Second Lieutenant John Frost was now standing, his M4 rifle coming up in slow motion. His index finger moved, ever so slowly, into the trigger guard. The sounds of night creatures turned to the thump thump thump of automatic-weapon fire. Explosions echoed off in the distance. The first of four 7.62x39 AK47 rounds pierced Second Lieutenant John Frost’s chest, just below the collarbone, on his left side. The other three rounds moved downward, diagonally, the last shot piercing his heart. Collin’s father was looking at him now, with an expression holding a mixture of curiosity and sadness. Perhaps he was wondering what life had in store for his sixteen-year-old son, and how he’d never be a part of it… that he wouldn’t be returning home from this Afghanistan tour.
“Collin …? Hey, Collin … you’re dreaming.”
As the dream with his father faded away—back to where dreams settle down—patiently waiting to revisit in some future time, Collin opened his eyes.
Lydia was looking down at him, a look of concern on her pretty face. She reached down and wiped the moisture away from the corner of his left, and then his right, eye. She really was heart-stoppingly beautiful, he thought.
“We made it,” she said, a smile crossing her lips.
“I blacked out. What happened? Where are we?”
“Astor Station.”
“Is Bubba …”
Lydia gestured to his right. “He’s in the bed next to yours. He’ll be okay. You both had third degree burns on the soles of your feet. You were both moved into AutoMed-things and now you’re recuperating.”
Collin glanced down at his bandaged feet. “They didn’t cut off any toes, or anything, did they?”
She laughed. “I don’t think so. They say you’ll be up and moving around in a few days.” She placed the palm o
f her hand on Collin’s chest. Their eyes held each other’s for several beats before she said, “You know … you saved us. All of us, Collin.”
He shook his head. “No more than Bubba, or Darren, or even Humphrey.”
She shook her head and smiled again. “We all know what happened. Some might not say it out loud … but we all know.”
Collin wondered if Lydia knew how ridiculously head-over-heels in love with her he was. Maybe someday he’d get up the nerve to tell her. His thoughts were interrupted with the pounce of Tink, flopping down on his bed.
“Scoot over!” she said.
Collin pushed over to give Tink room. She wiggled next to him and put her head on his shoulder. “Did she tell you?”
He looked down at her with a furrowed brow and then up at Lydia. “Tell me what?”
Tink said, “We can go home … go back to Earth as soon as we want.”
“That would be nice,” Collin said, watching Darren and Humphrey approach them, moving to stand on the opposite side of the bed, across from Lydia.
“Well, well, Sticks … you finally decide to wake up?” Humphrey asked, with a crooked smile.
Collin didn’t answer; he was too busy noticing the bands on Humphrey’s wrists—both wrists. He looked down at his own wrists and then at Tink’s and Lydia’s.
“They didn’t waste any time slapping these things back on us,” Darren said. “I guess we make them nervous.”
“When we get home, we’ve decided to throw a big party,” Lydia said.
“You know, the kind you were never invited to,” Humphrey added.
Tink sat up. “Be nice … Collin will be the guest of honor. You, on the other hand—”
Her words were interrupted with the approach of Captain Primo and Principessa Constantina Valora. They were both smiling as they stood at the end of Collin’s bed. The captain was dressed in a fresh uniform; the principessa was wearing a long gold and silvery gown. She looked like a princess in every sense of the word.
“May we have a moment alone with Mr. Frost?” the captain asked.
Tink let out a dramatic huff and scooted off the bed. Lydia, who still had her hand placed on Collin’s heart, stood back and winked at him. “See you later.”
Once Collin was alone with the captain and the principessa, they came around and stood in Lydia’s vacated space.
“We owe you much,” the captain said. “I owe you much,” he added, glancing over to the principessa. “You’re an amazing young man, Mr. Frost. I suspect you’re the result of a good upbringing.”
Collin didn’t say anything to that. The principessa leaned over and kissed Collin on the forehead. Smiling, she said, “Collin, I want to be honest with you. You deserve that much.” She and the captain exchanged another quick glance and the two became serious.
“The collector ship that abducted you and your friends was sent by the Notares, by order of the queen, and carried out by the Kardon Guard. Since the return of the sim rover you were first held in, three more have been dispatched to Earth. Earth has a rich and diverse quantity of metal … metals with a molecular composition not found anywhere in our own galaxy.”
Collin was having a hard time listening to her words. The devastation caused by a single sim rover was cataclysmic—three would, most assuredly, destroy much of the Earth he knew. And what of the populace?
“I’m so sorry, Collin,” she said.
“How do we stop them? How do I stop them?”
“Even a week ago I could have halted the plunder of your world. But I’m no longer in the queen’s good graces. Not as long as Commandant Nari has my mother’s ear. I’ve been branded a traitor to the monarchy and a bounty’s been placed on my head.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Principessa, but I don’t understand why we can’t travel back through the portal and defend Earth? Or just let me do that.”
“I made you a promise, Mr. Frost,” Captain Primo said. “I can return you and your Lone Stars to Earth within a few days.”
Collin felt relief hearing that, but he knew a but was coming.
“What will you attempt to do to defend your planet against those highly advanced collector ships, not forgetting there are a small fleet of Marauders too, now encircling Earth’s upper orbit?”
Collin closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. He didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know how to save his planet, let alone his mother and little sister. “What do you suggest?”
“In five weeks your ship, the Turd, will be retrofitted. You’ve earned the right to command that vessel. What I propose is this … spend the next five weeks completing your basic. You, and your Chain, finish what you began and become true warriors … warriors who’d have some semblance of a chance defending their home world.”
Collin let that sink in. “Is that all you’d ask in return? Five weeks of our time and we’re free to return to Earth with a warship?”
The captain shrugged. “This is war, Mr. Frost. You’ll need to ask yourselves this: what can we do that will ensure the long-term survival of our people … our planet?”
The End
Thank you for reading Lone Star Renegades. If you enjoyed this book and would like to see the series continue, please leave a review on Amazon.com – it really helps! To be notified of the soon-to-be released next Lone Star Renegades - Book 2, contact [email protected], Subject Line: Lone Star Renegades - Book 2.
Acknowledgments
I am grateful for the ongoing support I’ve received for my latest novel, Lone Star Renegades, as well as for the other books I’ve written. This book, number eight, came about through the assistance and combined contributions of others: First, I’d like to thank my mother, Lura Genz, for her tireless work as my first-phase creative editor and a staunch cheerleader of my writing. I’d like to thank my wonderful wife, Kim, for her endless support. I’d like to thank Mia Manns, for her phenomenal line and developmental editing … she is an incredible resource! Eren Arik produced an amazing, fun, cover design. I’d also like to thank pilot Mike Wilson, who provided the technical information for scenes regarding the Boeing 777-328 wide-body jetliner. I’d also like to thank those in my writers meet-up group, who have brought fresh ideas and perspectives to creativity, elevating my writing as a whole. Others who’ve provided much appreciated support include Lura and James Fischer, Sue Parr, and Chris DeRrick.
Other Books
Other books by Mark Wayne McGinnis:
Scrapyard Ship
(Scrapyard Ship series, Book 1)
HAB 12
(Scrapyard Ship series, Book 2)
Space Vengeance
(Scrapyard Ship series, Book 3)
Realms of Time
(Scrapyard Ship series, Book 4)
Craing Dominion
(Scrapyard Ship series, Book 5)
The Great Space
(Scrapyard Ship series, Book 6)
Mad Powers
(Tapped In series, Book 1)
Lone Star Renegades
(Lone Star Renegades series, Book 1)
Copyright
Copyright © 2015 by Mark Wayne McGinnis All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by:
Eren Arik
Edited by:
Lura Lee Genz
Mia Manns
Published by:
Aven
star Productions
ISBN: 978-0-9861098-0-5
www.markwaynemcginnis.com
Lone Star Renegades Page 23
