“Midwest roots, there’s a lot more where that came from,” she said, smiling back.
Jason stared forward at the dense cloud-cover ahead.
“How about two pennies for your thoughts?”
Jason chucked. “I was just thinking that you reminded me of someone.”
“Like how I look?”
“No, not so much look. More of a presence.”
“Presence?”
“Yeah, I guess more like a state-of-beingness. Your confidence, edginess.”
She nodded without looking in his direction, then said, “Well, I suppose a lot of that comes from being a female in a male-dominated environment. Ten years ago, I assure you, I was quite demure and ladylike.”
“I never said you weren’t ladylike.”
With that said, Jason turned around to face the team, jam-packed in the hold behind him. “Two minutes. Billy, once on the ground, let’s get out there and set up a defensive perimeter. Rhinos, give us a few moments to check out the surroundings before you vacate.”
There were nods all around and expressions of anticipation, even excitement. The truth was, he was excited too. How often could one actually experience a form of time travel like theirs? And like the spin of a roulette wheel, they could easily fall into virtually any timeframe.
The Magnum descended as those on board looked out through the cockpit window or through the portholes on either side. Slowing now, breaks in the cloud cover reveal the terrain below; one that is covered in tall pines, an occasional winding road, and cleared farmland. Their vertical descent culminated with a gentle thump thump as the landing struts touched down.
Jason checked his HUD’s time-reference date: June 2, 1944.
“Of course, why make it easy?” Jason asked aloud. He knew of this timeframe in military history. Four days before the invasion of Normandy—they’d landed in an inhospitable location in a most inhospitable year.
The back of the shuttle lowered and a gust of warm dusty air filled the cramped compartment.
“Hold on, everyone,” Jason said, standing and scanning the terrain beyond. Definitely farmland but their were sounds … distant sounds of motors, squeaky treads, and men’s voices. His HUD showed too many life-sign icons to count, coming from all sides. In the distance a tall white clapboard barn stood solitary alone in a recently plowed field.
“There, Grimes. Get us over to that barn!”
The shuttle rose several feet and moved off in the direction of the barn. Heads were craning now to see out the rear window, or through portholes.
“There!” Rizzo pointed to the south, where plumes of dust filled the air. A distant convoy headed in their general direction.
Jason followed the sightline of the distant dirt road. Coming into view were hundreds of ground forces—the unmistakable outline of Panzer tanks and other armored personnel carriers. Grimes maneuvered the shuttle to the far side of the barn. Two closed barn doors stood before them.
“Go!” Jason barked.
Both Billy and Rizzo were out of the shuttle and running toward the big wooden doors. Within seconds they had them opened wide and pushed back against the outside of the barn.
“It’ll be tight, Captain,” Grimes said.
The shuttle was repositioned so its rear end was now pointed in, toward the open barn doors. Slowly, the shuttle began backing in.
Jason felt it in his ears, a compression followed by a release. What followed next was loud: continuous booming thuds, one after another. Instinctively, everyone crouched down low. In the distance a line of tanks turned in their direction. One after another, white puffs of smoke appeared from multiple turrets.
“Incoming!” Billy yelled, as he and Rizzo ran back toward the rear of the shuttle. Two hundred yards out the ground exploded, shooting dirt and rocks high into the air. A moment later two more explosions came, each consecutively hitting closer to the barn. First Billy, then Rizzo, leapt and landed hard on the shuttle’s back decking. Grimes wasted no time throttling fast forward, the sudden motion whipping everyone’s head back. Two more explosions, the last one hitting dead center in the barn. Its sides and roof blew out with a massive concussive fireball. Wooden shards clattered against the shuttle’s outer hull, several flying into the open rear hatch.
Jason watched as the barn exploded behind them and, a second or two later, saw a drone emerge from the burning embers. It flew past them at tremendous velocity. Then the shuttle’s hatch closed and latched into place.
“That’s our probe!” Jason yelled.
“I’m on it, Cap,” Grimes replied.
The shuttle followed the drone over several open fields until it disappeared into the tree line.
“Shit!” Grimes spat. “Forest is too dense. I can’t take us in there.”
“Shoot the trees, do not lose that drone,” Jason commanded, taking his seat next to her.
Grimes stole a quick glance at Jason. “Shoot the trees?”
“You heard me. Do it. Don’t you dare lose that drone.”
Grimes tapped several virtual keys in front of her and the light-blue holographic nav display reconfigured—adding another layer of red targeting components. Her thumbs tapped at small keys on the top of the control column. Energy bursts fired from the dual plasma cannons, positioned low at the shuttle’s bow. Closing in on the tall tree line, Grimes continued to target the closest trees, cutting a swathe twenty feet wide.
Both Jason and Grimes saw the drone increase its lead on both the nav display and their HUDs.
“Stay with it, but let’s keep our distance.”
Grimes nodded. Trees continued to disintegrate before them but now at a slower rate. The drone’s icon slowed and then came to a stop a quarter mile ahead. The shuttle emerged from the forest into a valley clearing below, where three sets of railroad tracks converged into what appeared to be some kind of railcar cemetery. Wooden shacks in disrepair dotted the landscape. Multiple rows of dark red and black boxcars were lined up and bunched together at the northern end of the desolate railcar scrapyard. At its center area, where once perhaps stood a bustling depot in years past, were row after row of ancient steam locomotives. From the shuttle’s distance above, they looked like a child’s discarded train set. One locomotive seemed precariously angled to one side, and almost obscured beneath it, in a slight hollow, sat the drone.
Jason glanced at his HUD’s time-reference date: it was still June 2, 1944.
“Let’s set down here, Grimes. Any closer and the drone might fly off again.”
She brought the Magnum down close to the tree line and activated the opening of the rear hatch. The warm air from outside rushed in, along with the distant sounds of war. Far away rifle fire crackled, along with the boom boom of mortar exploding.
The rhino-warriors were the first out, followed by the SEALs, and Bristol. As before, Grimes and two SEALs stayed with the shuttle. Sounds of combat were closing in from two sides. As a second thought, Jason told Dira to stay behind, for Grimes to keep everyone else on board, and to keep the Magnum’s shields up. He locked eyes with Dira for a fleeting moment and then trotted off with the team.
Bristol quickly fell behind, spending as much time looking down at his equipment as he did looking forward. Stumbling, he said, “Shit!”
They’d reached the first set of train tracks. Beyond the depot, in both directions, the trees had been cleared ten feet into the forest.
“That’s not good,” Billy remarked.
From the east a column of tanks and dark grey uniformed men were following the tracks and heading in their direction. Jason had spied them on his HUD but hadn’t expected them to be so close. He and his assault team quickly crossed the tracks and moved behind two adjoined wooden shacks.
“Wehrmacht,” Rizzo said.
Both Jason and Billy looked back at him with blank expressions.
“German defense force. I’m betting this is the Panzer Group, led by General Leo Geyr.”
“How do you know this stuff,
Rizzo?” Billy asked.
“He went to Columbia; history major,” Jason answered, urging the rhinos to move it along and get out of sight.
One of the larger, more portly rhinos, called Billowing Gust, Jason recalled, was the last one to cross over and took three rounds into his side and back. Blood flowed but he seemed to barely notice.
“So much for hiding until they pass,” Jason commented. The last thing he wanted to do was take on the German Wehrmacht. “Let’s hurry up and get to the drone.”
An explosion stopped them in their tracks, taking out two side-by-side boxcars up ahead. Jason turned away as wood and metal shrapnel cascaded onto him.
Rizzo was on his back and two Rhinos were obviously dead—one was decapitated, and the other had a wooden plank extending from his chest.
“Panzer’s 75 mm howitzer. High-explosive shells,” Rizzo said, slowly getting to his feet. The rhino called Few Words began to check over the dead rhinos while everyone else took cover.
Even with the knowledge that this wasn’t their own relational time period, Jason was still reluctant to blatantly go up against the approaching convoy. But, in truth, his loyalties were with his own time, his own world. Taking out these tanks and men would be a simple task for the Minian, up in high orbit above the planet. He hailed Ricket and waited for over a minute.
“Captain,” a hurried voice came back, out of breath.
Jason immediately knew something was wrong. “What is it, Ricket?”
“Can’t speak for long … we’re being boarded, I’m evading—”
“Boarded? By whom?” Jason heard energy weapons firing over his NanoCom.
“I’m not actually sure,” Ricket replied. Jason heard sounds of running footfalls and Ricket’s heavy breathing over the line.
“Sorry, Captain. I’ll contact you as soon as I’m able.” The connection closed.
Billy, noticing Jason’s alarmed expression, asked, “What is it?”
“Minian’s been boarded. Looks like we’re on our own for a while,” Jason replied.
Chapter 14
Ricket ran for the entrance to Medical with eight Caldurians in pursuit. They’d emerged onto the ship ten minutes earlier from multiple DeckPort locations. Ricket, alerted to their presence by the AI, watched them from behind a bulkhead. Armed with energy weapons and wearing hardened, dark brown environmental suits, the Caldurians quickly fanned out into multiple directions—as if they knew exactly where they needed to go.
Not wearing his own battle suit and unarmed, Ricket addressed the ship’s AI. “AI, take defensive action against the intruders.”
“That function has been deactivated.”
“Who has deactivated that function, AI?”
“Minian command personnel prior to your boarding. It is for that reason your own access to the vessel has gone unchallenged.”
“Can you at least keep me apprised of their location?”
“Yes,” the pleasant AI’s voice replied. “The insurgent forces are making their way toward the bridge, although they have been halted due to the fact the area has not been fully constructed. Within the last fifteen seconds another team has emerged at DeckPort L9.”
Ricket tried to remember where that particular DeckPort was situated when he heard the sound of approaching feet. Coming down the corridor behind him were eight armed insurgents. Ricket ran as energy bolts flew by him, missing him by mere inches. He darted left, then right, then sprinted full out and dove into the closest DeckPort.
Ricket emerged out of a DeckPort two levels down, still airborne, his arms extended. He tucked and rolled, using his own momentum to catapult him upright, and sprinted toward Medical. He called out to two rhinos, whom he’d learned were actually twins, First Reflection and Second Reflection. “Help! First Reflection!”
Sleepy-eyed, it was actually Second Reflection, the rhino with a chip on one side of his horn, who peered out from the entrance of Medical. Startled, seeing Ricket running towards him followed by eight close combatants, he quickly pulled his heavy hammer from the leather thong at his side, while drawing his plasma gun from its holster with his other hand. By the time Ricket skirted into Medical, First Reflection, the rhino’s twin, was at his brother’s side. Both fired at the approaching combatants. Ricket needed to get to his own battle suit, but that was three decks away.
The deck plates shook underfoot as one of the rhinos in the corridor went down hard. Ricket crouched low and took a quick look. It looked like Second Reflection was dead. But the brother rhinos had done well. Only two of the brown-clad combatants were still on their feet, now hiding behind the bulkhead of an intersecting corridor and firing at First Reflection. The rhino’s hide was blackened with numerous scorch marks, and he was staggering.
“Take cover! Don’t just stand in the middle of the corridor like that.”
The rhino ignored Ricket and continued to fire his weapon. Ricket saw Second Reflection’s plasma weapon lying on the deck, but it was not within easy reach. He took several steps backward, then rushed forward into the corridor. Staying low, Ricket reached the far side, snatched up the weapon, and darted back to safety. The handgun was huge in his small hands. There was no way he’d be able to use it single-handedly. Awkwardly, with one hand on the barrel and the other at the trigger, Ricket held the gun out in front of him. He took in a deep breath and edged around the corner, pulling the trigger. To his surprise, only one of the combatants was still on his feet, and between Ricket and First Reflection’s combined fire, the last of them went down.
First Reflection staggered and rushed to his brother’s side. Ricket joined him and felt for a pulse along the rhino’s carotid artery. Ricket looked up at First Reflection, ready to give him the dire news, but the rhino had slumped forward, unconscious.
Ricket sat back, letting his back lean against the bulkhead. Only when he looked up did he see Traveler filling the entrance to Medical.
“What has happened here? Why are my warriors lying dead before me?”
Ricket felt a rush of relief that Traveler’s time in the MediPod had completed. “Only one of them is dead. I’m sorry. Too much time has elapsed for him to be brought back. But First Reflection’s still alive; help me get him into the MediPod.”
Ricket moved aside as Traveler knelt down and scooped his hands under the unconscious rhino. Carrying him on his outstretched arms into Medical, he gently laid the rhino’s body inside the largest pod’s still-open clamshell.
Ricket made several setting adjustments and the clamshell began to close.
“You must tell me what has happened,” Traveler asked, tension in his deep voice.
Ricket picked up the other weapon and handed it to Traveler. “You were injured on Earth—a spear to the leg. You were brought here by these two and placed into the large MediPod to recover.”
Ricket continued to talk as he headed out of Medical and down the corridor toward the fallen enemy combatants. Traveler followed.
“A short while ago the Minian was boarded by these insurgents. Now they’re all over the ship.” Ricket knelt down and looked through the visor of the closest body. “Caldurian.”
The AI was speaking again. “Another insurgency team of ten combatants has appeared through DeckPort L9; they are headed in your direction.”
Ricket stood. Something didn’t make sense to him. The Caldurians were wearing environmental suits—old fashioned, compared to the high-tech battle suits worn by the crew of The Lilly.
“AI, are these Caldurians returning Minian crew members?”
“No. These Caldurians are derived from that faction called the originals.”
Ricket thought about that. He recalled Granger speaking of two distinct factions of Caldurians—the progressives, who embraced new multiverse technologies, and the originals, who’d put limits on the extent to which multiverse technology could be utilized.
“AI, is it because of the originals that the Minian crew is missing?”
“Partially.”
“Are the originals and the progressives at war?”
“That is not an accurate statement.”
“Explain.”
The AI hesitated for a moment, then said, “In light of current events, there is a high degree of probability that the originals have aligned with another warring faction.”
“I don’t understand; who have the originals aligned with?”
“The Craing.”
Ricket looked at Traveler. The news was an unexpected and dire development. Although the originals hadn’t embraced multiverse technology, they were still hundreds, if not thousands of years more advanced than the Craing. Sharing their superior technology with the Craing would prove devastating to the Alliance. Ricket needed to contact the admiral.
They heard approaching sounds of running. With no place to run, Ricket stepped toward Traveler and grabbed his arm. “Let me access your phase-shift wristband.” Using two hands, he opened its faceplate and quickly entered a new set of coordinates. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed up the dead Caldurian’s sidearm. Standing by Traveler’s side, and holding on to his arm, he pressed the activate button. The Caldurians rounded the corner just as Ricket and Traveler phase-shifted three deck levels higher on the ship.
They were now standing in the room with the phase-synthesizer. If they were to have any chance of holding off the Caldurians, they’d need access to the phase-synthesizer’s manufacturing capabilities. Ricket quickly moved to the console and started to scroll through its various drone options. He was more than a little familiar with Caldurian drone tech. He remembered seeing a smaller version of the transmitter drones that had been dispatched to Earth. There it is. What he needed to do was set the parameters for a drone to search and incapacitate only the Caldurians. With the help of the AI, he already had bio-reading references for Caldurian life forms. Within two minutes, the phase-synthesizer spewed out the first spherical black mini-hover drone. Ricket configured it for passive mode, not wanting to inadvertently risk shooting themselves. Both Traveler and Ricket took cover and remotely activated the drone. It quickly came alive; small panels opened on its surface and gun barrels appeared, poised to fire.
Realms of Time (Scrapyard Ship) Page 8
