“Still waiting on that, Captain,” the Warrant Officer said, as he leaned in close to the intercom and queried the below-deck crewmember.
Perry looked out the forward window. The Chinese fleet on the distant horizon was far more discernible now.
“Sir, we have a breach at the waterline—between frames fifty and fifty-one. Crews are on it. Three men were killed in the blast.”
“Get that section of the ship cordoned off, Mr. Gilroy.”
“There are other injuries, too. Mostly minor. One of the news reporters apparently broke an arm.”
Perry briefly wondered if it was Terry Hill, but, since the matter didn’t sound urgent, he let the thought go. He turned to the remaining bridge officers. “Which one of you here was, or still is, aligned with Commander Greco? Confess now—if I find out you’re lying to me I’ll have you shot on the spot.”
The men remained still, only their eyes moved to one another.
Warrant Officer Gilroy said, “Those aligned with the commander all left together, sir. We … we were just following orders. We were told that you weren’t really in command. I’m sorry. We … none of us knew they were going to do this to the ship.”
“And where is Commander Greco now? He and his band need to be taken into custody.”
“I thought you knew, sir. Right after they left the bridge, they headed for the aft helicopter pad. They’re all gone.”
“How many were they?” Perry asked, not surprised by the revelation.
“Nine, including the pilot, sir.”
Perry shook his head. That’s all it took. Nine traitors on board the Montana, plus others back at the Pentagon. Admiral Sands, the Chief of Naval Operations, for sure, and who knew how many more? Their objective seemed obvious—the start of World War III. But why? Were they all like Greco? Did all the traitors have two hearts beating inside their chests? Were they some kind of genetic experiment, perhaps implemented by the Russians? Perry wouldn’t put it past them to instigate something like this—bringing the Chinese and the U.S. to the brink of war.
Perry looked back at the men. He too had to assume responsibility for what just transpired. For the most part, he’d stood back—behaving more like a passenger on the ship. He’d no more behaved captain-like than Gilroy over there—or Lieutenant Madison, now awake and attempting to get to his feet. At that moment, Perry felt ashamed.
Chapter 17
Unknown Realm System
Ancient Glist Tunnel
__________________________
Present day …
Billy brought his attention toward the growing circle of light up ahead—out the forward observation window.
“We’re slowing, I need to take back the controls,” Polly said, carefully placing her hands back, then nodding. “Yup … we’re coming out of this … tunnel … or whatever it is, Boss.”
Billy contemplated their circumstances, knowing that a few days earlier Boomer’s team, on board the Stellar, had been positioned where they were now, about to enter an unknown environment—equally unsure if they were hurling toward an inevitable death. He was acutely aware that his team, more than likely, would soon share that same unknown fate.
Billy yelled back over his shoulder, “Lock and load, boys … it’s game time.”
As if a switch had been thrown, the Sharks immediately transitioned from their adolescent-like, horsing-around antics into a cool, calm, collected work unit. Multi-guns were fetched from storage lockers, SuitPac devices activated and, one by one, advanced battle suit micro-segments began spreading out over limbs and torsos. Helmets, with dark amber visors, formed around their heads—HUDs became operational.
Traveler joined Billy’s side. The horn at the top of his magnificent head, yellowing and worn from age and countless battles, was a mere few inches from the compartment’s ceiling. Billy watched as the spreading segments of the rhino-warrior’s battle suit engulfed his body and head, till he was transformed into something that looked even more menacing, if possible. From the rear of the cockpit, they both watched Polly work the controls.
“Boss, my board is lighting up with warnings … a caustic shit-storm of atmosphere lies ahead, showing lots of familiar elements to me that humans don’t do well in. From our own periodic table I see Chlorine … Argon … Bromine … but there’s also a whole slew of others I’m unfamiliar with. They all look extremely caustic. So, hold on to your balls, guys … here we go!”
The Storm exited the Glist tunnel, traveling at a much faster rate than when it entered. Billy reached a hand out for the closest bulkhead for stability, while Traveler only needed to spread his tree-trunk-sized legs apart to remain solidly unwavering.
Billy guessed they emerged not more than one hundred yards up from the surface. Strobes of lightning illuminated the hazy, outward surroundings. Polly banked the Storm in a wide circle, bringing into view the tunnel they’d just emerged from. Similar to Almand-CM5, here too was both an archway and an ancient-looking tunnel—its glowing blue Glist color dramatically contrasting with the outside surroundings.
Billy, who’d yet to initialize his own battle suit, had a strong desire to light the cigar hanging from the corner of his lips.
“Looks like some kind of refinery … what a fucking hellhole we have here,” Polly said with an expression of disgust—as if she’d just tasted something foul.
As far as the eye could see—all the way to the distant horizon—the terrain below was an enormous tangle of towering, rusty-looking holding tanks of some sort. Thousands, perhaps millions, of pipes, conduits and smoke stacks were billowing out putrid-smelling, mud-colored exhaust fumes.
As depressing as their outer surroundings were, they didn’t compare to what Billy began to experience on the inside—a growing sense of doom infiltrating his consciousness. He never felt so anxious—his every intake of breath now was a laborious burden. All he wanted to do was find a corner, somewhere on the Storm, to curl up in; a place to hide … perhaps sleep.
Then, noticing a similar expression on other team members’ faces, he realized he wasn’t alone in this emotional conundrum. Staring into the cabin, he saw a team of beaten men—their heads cast down, wallowing in self-defeat.
Billy removed the stogie from his lips and initialized his battle suit. Immediately accessing his HUD, he searched out the appropriate anatomical monitoring menus, and then sub-menus of those—until he found what he was looking for. Obviously this place, or realm—this particular multiverse—was far different from Earth. Although no scientist, he knew the human body secreted certain compounds, or chemicals, that affected one’s emotional state. Now studying the HUD’s settings on various physiological levels, he noted there were at least seven indicators showing red—dangerously low amounts of dopamine, acetylcholine, serotonin, and others—all neurotransmitters. He wondered, to himself, why his internal nanites hadn’t automatically compensated for the depleted levels? He manually brought the overly low levels of neurotransmitters back up to normal, then reconfigured his HUD to ensure that his suit continued to dispense them properly. Within seconds he was feeling better—almost back to normal.
“Commander, I figured out why we’re all feeling like garbage,” Sanchez said, tapping him on the shoulder.
Billy nodded. “Neurotransmitter levels?” Sanchez looked somewhat disappointed he had reached the same conclusion. “Good job … go ahead and help the rest of the Sharks with their HUD settings.”
“You got it, Commander,” he said.
Billy looked up at Traveler, but before he could ask, Traveler said, “I’ve already made the necessary setting changes.”
“Boss … I think I’ve got a lock on the Stellar. It’s a faint signal but we’re currently on a straight vector toward the ship’s location,” Polly said.
“Distance?”
“Readings are all over the place here … my guess, we’re about twenty seconds out. Tried hailing her but her comm’s not responding.”
Although lightning continued to
flash all around them, there were sporadic breaks in the cloud layer. Golden beams—like huge, heavenly, sunshine spotlights—brought momentary warmth and beauty to the ugly landscape below.
“Crap!” Polly said, looking from her board to the observation window.
Billy caught it too—a fast approaching V-formation of aircraft. “How many are there?”
“Total of twenty-two,” Polly said. “Um … but we may not need to worry just yet.”
Billy took a step forward and squinted his eyes. He smiled. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
“Yup. We’re looking at twenty-two, older technology, helli-crafts … like helicopters … but different. I didn’t want to mention it earlier, but it looks like we’re flying above the surface of a much smaller planet not so different from Earth, if Earth hadn’t advanced as much technologically.”
“So … it’s what? Back in the twentieth—century here?” Billy said, sounding unconvinced.
“Yeah, maybe, or it’s the same time period as our Earth … only the technology hasn’t advanced much … and I’m guessing their industrial revolution got way out of control within this particular realm,” she added.
Billy saw bright flashes outside that weren’t coming from lightning.
“We’re being fired upon.”
The V-formation of bi-planes separated and they were now upon them. The strange copter crafts circled—coming at them with guns blazing.
“Shields unaffected,” Polly said. “The Stellar should be right below us now, Boss.”
“Take us down, Lieutenant.”
Polly banked the shuttle, quickly descending, and soon the Storm was flying amidst a jungle of pipes of varying size—some were no larger in diameter than the Storm’s dimensions, while others were ten times larger. The only visible constant was the presence of corrosion and dark-brown rust all around them.
Polly expertly navigated the shuttle up and down and around one obstacle after another. Billy peered out the starboard-side observation window, wondering if any of the copter crafts were still in pursuit.
“They didn’t descend with us into the pipes,” Polly said as if reading his thoughts. “I imagine that whatever flows through these pipes doesn’t react real well with fired off lead projectiles. Just my guess,” she said.
Earlier, Billy had surmised they were near the surface of the planet, but obviously that wasn’t true, as they continued to drop lower and lower into the metal pipe thicket.
“I think we’ve finally reached the bottom of this mess,” Polly announced.
They descended into a vista of ginormous-sized buildings, constructed of what looked like concrete. The structures were rectangular and flat, lacking any architectural flourish to provide them with some level of eye-appeal. Pragmatic and functional, they were utilitarian factories, pumping out whatever god-awful liquids or gases flowed through their countless pipes, before seeping out into the ruined atmosphere above them.
“There!” Polly said, pointing toward a building with somewhat more open space available near it. And there, too, was the Stellar, parked and seemingly still intact. Billy heard a cheer of men’s voices come from the Sharks in the rear cabin.
“Doesn’t look like there’s enough room for us there,” Billy said.
“Oh ye of little faith,” Polly said, maneuvering the shuttle around until it faced in the opposite direction. From the new angle, Billy noticed that there indeed was a bit of open space on the far side of a series of horizontal pipes.
Billy, paying more attention to his own HUD readings at this point than to Polly’s landing of the shuttle, had—several seconds earlier—watched two life-icons pop into view within the Stellar’s confines. Both icons were semi-transparent—and colorless—an indication that neither of the two individuals was still alive. As the designated initials of both icons hovered above the two unmoving bodies, Billy knew that no adjustment to his suit’s dopamine levels would be able to compensate for the feeling of dread and sorrow he was now experiencing.
Chapter 18
Unknown System
Unknown Realm
__________________________
The shuttle had no sooner touched down than the Storm’s back hatch raised and the gangway began extending. Over the open channel, Billy yelled for his team to hold up. Turning to Polly, he said, “Stay with the ship. If you lose touch with the team for more than a few hours, attempt to find the archway … try to get yourself back home.”
Polly, looking ready to protest, seemed to think better of it and nodded her head.
“I’ll check in on the half-hour … you do the same.” Billy, about ready to move out, held back, seeing the sudden sad emotion in her eyes.
“Boss, is that really them? Over there, in the Stellar?”
“I think so. I’ll let you know,” Billy said, his voice providing little in the way of hope.
* * *
Seven Sharks, along with Traveler, hurried down the gangway, then spread out to secure the area. Sanchez, waiting for Billy halfway down the ramp, said as he approached, “I’m not picking up much in the way of lifeforms in our immediate area, Commander. But when I increased sensor sensitivity, it became clear the planet’s populace here dwells well below ground.”
“No wonder! Who could live in this atmosphere? I feel like I need a shower even wearing this protective battle suit,” Billy said.
Tops suddenly appeared from behind a substantially large pipe. “Area’s clear.”
Billy spotted the Stellar, partially obscured behind a horizontal grouping of parallel pipes. “Let’s take a look,” he said, walking at a brisker pace, crouching low to avoid hitting his head. He and his team reached the Stellar, separately approaching her from different directions.
Close up, Captain Reynolds’ sleek luxury space yacht looked battered. Blast marks and gouges, and more than a few dents, covered her hull. It was clearly evident she’d been through a lot. Long before arriving there, the Stellar had transported Boomer and Mollie on their mission to retrieve the three won effigies. The same three effigies—once found—were used to open the Glist archway that led into this dreadful multiverse realm.
Billy signaled Tops to head for the Stellar’s extended gangway, positioned beneath one of her angled-back wings and nearly imperceptible beneath the vessel’s dark shadow. All teammates possessed the necessary access code to open the outer hatch. Billy, following behind Traveler, was last to climb the ramp and enter the ship. Over the open channel, he heard his team clearing, one by one, the Stellar’s lower-level compartments. By the time he and Traveler reached the open hold area—the approximate mid-point of the lower level—the others were there waiting.
“Let me go up alone … first. I’ll make visual identification of the bodies,” Billy said.
Only Traveler responded back. “I will go with you.” It was not a request and Billy nodded his assent.
Billy headed from the hold with Traveler close behind. The Stellar’s DeckPort was positioned toward the bow. Billy noted earlier it was operational when passing by it. As they approached the elevator-size opening, with its constantly shimmering energy field, he dreaded what he’d find on the upper level. They stepped through the DeckPort.
* * *
In contrast to the lower deck, which looked relatively normal—everything pretty much in its place—the upper deck of the Stellar was utter shambles—completely thrashed. Several soft, white leather chairs and couches were torn—inside stuffing billowing forth like guts of a flayed-open animal.
“There are streaks of blood over there,” Traveler said, striding toward the ship’s stern. Billy, hurrying after him, nearly barreled into his back when the rhino-warrior came to an abrupt halt.
Both bodies were lying side by side—neither clothed in a battle suit. Billy lowered down to one knee and moved several strands of wheat-colored hair from the face of one. She looked at rest—still pretty—a ready cause of death not apparent, nor for the second body. They lay on their side
s—facing each other. Billy wondered if they’d died that way … looking into each other’s eyes.
“They will be missed. I will honor them with the sacred prayer … the return of the torrent.”
Billy heard the emotion in the rhino’s deep baritone voice. He knew the return of the torrent was a prayer reserved for only the most honored individuals—a three-day fireside ceremony of introspection and mourning. Billy pictured the big rhino, naked and sullen, circling the flames in prayer, stopping only occasionally to throw fresh timber onto a massive bonfire. Others, rhinos and sometimes non-rhinos, were allowed to observe such rites, but only from a distance. Traveler’s lone lament would take place later, back in his desert residence, his habitat home, on the Parcical.
Billy studied his HUD readings in an attempt to determine cause of death. Neither Hanna nor Leon visibly showed signs of being wounded; no telltale plasma strikes, or charred flesh, evident on either body. It looked like their hearts simply stopped beating, which seemed impossible considering their relatively young age—early thirties.
Billy rose up with a heavy heart. He liked both of them. In a sense, they were family … and Billy vowed he’d find the ones responsible.
“I’ll be right back,” he said to Traveler, and headed further toward the stern, going past the kitchenette and passenger head and into the captain’s quarters. Pulling the bedcover off the bed, he returned, finding Traveler still peering down at the dead bodies. Billy neatly covered them with the bedspread, spending several moments straightening out edges and flattening the fabric. Although he tried blinking back the moisture suddenly brimming in his eyes, several wayward tears splashed down on the deck. Eventually he stood.
Traveler and Billy exchanged a meaningful extended glance.
“This will not go unanswered,” Billy said.
Traveler responded with a sudden, steamy snort.
Glory for Sea and Space (Star Watch Book 4) Page 10
