Glory for Sea and Space (Star Watch Book 4)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “Played,” Orion interjected. “Played for fools.”

  Ricket shrugged. “Gaddy has not been seen in public for over a year. But the word is, she agreed to become their emperor. She now rules behind the scenes.”

  Jason was well aware people’s character often changed. His own brother was a good example of that. But Gaddy? He found that hard to believe. Yet for now, he’d just have to ride with the possibility of it.

  “Ricket, let’s assume that thousands of these Solex hybrids comprise the crew of the Sahhrain warships. It explains a lot … how the Sahhrain have amassed such a tremendous mass force in so short a time. I need you to find some way, if there is one, to … to neutralize them. Find out where these hybrids originate from … are they from one star system … one world … or multiple worlds? And perhaps there’s something physiologically we can target them with … I don’t know if that makes sense. Also … if we can discover just what it is the Craing hold over the hybrids’ heads. There may be opportunities there to convince them to rebel. Can you do all that?”

  “I will try, Captain.”

  “What do you want me to do, Cap?” Orion asked.

  “Get back to the bridge, Gunny. It’s time we locate that ice-cold planet … Endromoline. It’s supposedly nearby, right? Fifty miles below the surface of that world lies the Pungshy. We need to find her.”

  Chapter 43

  Unknown Multiverse Realm

  Crimon, Middle-world

  __________________________

  Traveler, his heavy hammer tightly gripped in one fist, used his other fist to shove Billy harshly out of the way. He attacked Rom Dasticon with a thunderous, overhead downward blow. As Billy staggered backward, falling within the catwalk’s narrow confines, he saw the business end of Traveler’s hammer slam down hard, crashing onto the metal railing and bending it nearly in half. An ensuing loud clang echoed for several moments. But the old Sachem was already gone. Unharmed, he’d vanished into thin air.

  When Rom Dasticon reappeared a moment later further down the catwalk, he was a younger version of himself. Dressed now as a Sahhrain lord warrior, his breastplate glowed a soft metallic blue that was, undoubtedly, Glist. A long flowing blue cape completed his ensemble. Briefly, Billy wondered if the Sahhrain warriors mimicked Dasticon’s attire, or if it was the other way around. Dasticon wore an enhancement shield over his left forearm that brought thoughts of Boomer to Billy’s mind. Had Dasticon killed her with that shield? Killed all of them?

  Without actually touching Traveler, using the energized force emanating not from his shield but from his outstretched fingertips, Dasticon lifted the thousand-pound rhino off his feet and propelled him up and over the edge of the catwalk. The rhino-warrior was gone.

  Having regained his balance, with no time to consider Traveler’s fate, Billy raised both arms and fired his battle suit’s two integrated wrist-plasma guns. It was immediately apparent that Dasticon was shielded when the bright blue plasma fire stopped short—billowing outward a foot from the Sachem’s chest. More plasma fire then erupted as his Sharks, quickly positioning themselves for a clear shot, let loose with a plasma barrage from their multi-guns.

  Seemingly with little effort, Rom Dasticon deflected everything Billy’s team threw at him. A smile crossed his lips as he held Billy’s eyes in his own confident stare. With the wave of one hand, like swatting away an annoying fly, the first of the Sharks—the one farthest away from Billy—went flying off the catwalk, like Traveler had only moments before. The swatting motion continued, and, one by one, the remaining six Sharks too were catapulted up and over the catwalk and out of sight.

  Now alone on the catwalk, with Rom Dasticon before him, Billy adjusted to the oppressive lingering silence, knowing that he couldn’t defeat Dasticon with integrated plasma weapons, or with a multi-gun either. He deactivated his battle suit and waited for it to segment back into the small SuitPac device he wore on his belt.

  Slowly, as Dasticon watched, Billy retrieved a cigar from his breast pocket—the one given to him by Oranammy hours earlier. He placed it between his lips, content not to light it. Without making any sudden movements, Billy shifted his position and glanced over the edge of the catwalk—over the destroyed railing—to the rural scene hundreds of feet below. Expecting to see a crumpled mass of Sharks’ bodies—along with a dead rhino-warrior—he saw instead only steady labor by the locals, continuing on with their barn-raising activities.

  “They are not down there … and they are not dead,” Dasticon said, sounding bemused by Billy’s apparent surprise.

  “Where are they? Tell me, asshole, what have you done with my team?”

  In the blink of an eye, Dasticon’s appearance transformed again, back to that of Glorianne. Pretty—looking nothing like the evil Rom Dasticon who stood there a moment before. She stared back at him. Blinking her pretty blue eyes, which seemed to sparkle in the dimly lit surroundings.

  “It is interesting … Billy Hernandez, how much value you place on others’ lives, even before your own. Admirable. It will be interesting to see just how far your loyalty extends. I am fascinated by such things—how beings like you react under varying conditions.”

  “That’s what this place is all about … your chamber of horrors on a life-sized scale?”

  “Yes, how else would one such as myself keep occupied?” Glorianne said. “At one time moving between worlds … or even other realms … was as easy as … simply thinking about it. That is not the case now … It has not been for a long time. You coming here has changed all that. Oh … how I miss the diversity of what is … out there.”

  “Who took that away from you? Who put you here?” Billy asked.

  “The who is not important. How … it is an obelisk … with amazing powers … residing in your multiverse realm. I was tricked and it was stolen from me … I was trapped here. Clever … I underestimated my opponent.”

  “And this place?” Billy gestured to the world below.

  “There is so much you do not understand about the multiverse, Billy. For instance, did you know that societies … seemingly identical, from one realm to another, on identical sister worlds … can hold widely contrasting values? Morality is relative to one’s origins. The hunting and killing of animals is an acceptable practice within your realm for food sustenance, while on Earth’s sister planet, here within this realm, not only is it not accepted … it carries a penalty of death when practiced.”

  Billy shook his head. To him, it all seemed beyond senseless.

  “The same scenario taking place below, raising the barn, has taken place a thousand other times, with a thousand different people, brought in from all over this planet. It fascinates me to see how inhabitants from one location react, compared to those living in another. It would be far better to have subjects from alternative realms … but until now … that was not an option. So here I’ve created my own little multiverse … I can evaluate … experiment … will mothers rush into a burning barn to save their child every time? Will all fathers club another man with a length of timber when adequately provoked?”

  “Who gives a shit?” Billy spat. “Why can’t you just accept that people will react the way they react and leave it at that?”

  Glorianne tilted her head and closed her eyes, inhaling slowly—as if it took every bit of willpower to tolerate Billy’s dimwittedness. “It was not by accident that I had successfully crossed into so many multiverse realms, becoming their god … their salvation, as well as their damnation. That is what I was meant to do, and what I had continued to do for twenty thousand years. That is, until I was marooned here.”

  Billy removed his cigar to spit out a wayward bit of tobacco. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for ten thousand. Fifteen thousand, max.”

  “You are funny, Billy Hernandez. It is too bad I do not have more time to spend. Idle conversation is so rare for a god. Soon … today … I will journey to your home realm and bring forth my influence there. I will regain my ability to cross into
the multiverse … be the god I was destined to be. But first, I wanted to personally thank you.”

  “And why is that?”

  “For thousands years, I have waited to return to your multiverse realm. Five years ago, I came as close as I ever had before to establishing a bridge there … but that was not to be. You and your cohorts … young Boomer and her father, Captain Reynolds … put a stop to that. But now … you have done my bidding and I now have my bridge … I have my way out of here.”

  “I don’t think so, fuck-face! Hey … why don’t you show yourself as you really are? Grow a pair of balls and stop hiding behind a young girl’s face?”

  It was nearly imperceptible, but Billy caught it. Dasticon’s eyes narrowed as internal anger flared up. Billy did know how to infuriate, and apparently even a demi-god, such as Rom Dasticon, was not immune to it.

  The old man persona reappeared—still wearing the breastplate and cape. “Happy now?”

  “Not really,” Billy said. “Maybe you should keep this particular look under wraps. Sorry, pops, but it’s not really working for you …”

  Again came a quick narrowing of his eyes. His old, withered face sagged loosely, as if Dasticon’s boney skull—beneath numerous folds of extra flabby skin—had somehow shrunk over the many millennia.

  Billy said, “Just curious, but your garb is so similar to the Sahhrain’s. What’s up with that?”

  In the blink of an eye, Dasticon now appeared young, big, and strong. “The Sahhrain, on over two hundred nearly identical sister realm worlds, are my most devout followers. They have chosen to wear the same warrior attire that I myself wore some twenty-five hundred years ago, the same as my master of one of the ancient fighting arts. The one called Tahli.”

  “So, the all-powerful Dasticon god too had a master at one time,” Billy said, making his comment more of a statement than a question.

  “Enough! I have already wasted far too much time with you. It is time for you to join the others.”

  “My team?”

  He nodded back. “And several others.”

  “You’re speaking of Boomer, Mollie, and …” Billy said.

  Dasticon’s interest, suddenly renewed, said, “Oh yes … young Boomer. She is a worthwhile opponent. In another thousand years she, too, could rule as I do. Such a waste of talent.”

  Billy was relieved to learn Boomer and Mollie might still be alive, as well as his team of Sharks. “Can I ask you one more question?”

  Rom Dasticon returned to wearing his Glorianne guise before Billy finished the sentence.

  “Actually … two questions,” he said.

  Her impatience with him was made obvious with a frowning scowl.

  “Glorianne, is she …?”

  “Real? Alive?” Dasticon said, finishing his sentence.

  Billy stared at her blankly.

  “Not anymore,” she said. “And your final question?”

  “You were not alone … in the past … having the capability to journey into other realms. Hell, that is second nature for the Caldurians. What happens when your followers discover that you are no more a god than fucking Mickey Mouse?”

  Billy was caught off guard by Glorianne’s—Rom Dasticon’s—blazing fury. Bringing up her hands, bright red distortion waves shot into Billy’s torso, forcing him to experience profound agony. Like being electrocuted, he was paralyzed—unable to move or blink his eyes. Smoke trailed upward, as his flesh began to smolder and blister beneath his spacer’s jumpsuit. With tears streaming down his cheeks, the unlit cigar toppled from his wide-open gaping lips.

  Chapter 44

  Fringe of the Dacci Star System

  High Orbit above Endromoline

  Parcical, Sub-corridor

  ___________________________

  Jason hurried onto the bridge—his eyes immediately drawn to the wrap-around 3D display. Endromoline, looking immense and close enough to touch, was bright, colorless, and foreboding. There were two sets of three Saturn-like rings—three running horizontally and three vertically—giving the planet a giant plus-sign appearance.

  Orion, standing at her board, joined Jason next to the captain’s chair.

  “Parcical’s sensors are finalizing their second battery of scans, but I’m not optimistic, Cap. The Pungshy’s definitely not down at the fifty-mile level. The problem is, that planet is comprised of extremely solid substances—mostly exotic, high-density, metals.”

  Jason, still distracted from a prior ten-minute conversation with his father, was only half-listening to her. Somehow, when Jason offered the old man back his former job, he had forgotten how infuriating his dad could be. Now, as the new U.S. Fleet Omni, Jason feared he’d created a monster. It had started with an incoming, high-priority, intergalactic communication—and an accusation:

  “You set me up … you fucking set me up, Jason!”

  “What are you talking about, Dad? Listen, I’m due on the bridge, can’t this wait?”

  “No, it cannot wait, and address me as Admiral or Omni. You are a subordinate. I expect you know I cannot show you any deference because of our family ties.”

  “Deference? Family ties? What are you talking about? Have you already forgotten who put you back in that position?” Jason argued.

  “Knock it off, Captain! What we now need to address is the shit-pile you handed over to me. I knew things were a mess … but not like this.”

  Jason’s hesitation to defend himself said more than any words could. He never kept it a secret that he was a far better Star Watch commander than the fleet Omni. His many missions over the years to distant star systems had come at a price. Administrative duties were either late or never commenced in the first place, including enlisted and officer personnel promotions. Budget allocations for fleet maintenance was shelved, still awaiting his attention, and a myriad of other, executive-level, decision-making duties had stacked up, as Liberty Station officers grew more and more angry and resentful.

  “I apologize, Omni Reynolds,” Jason said, biting back the urge to argue. “I never should have juggled my Star Watch command and the Omni command at the same time.”

  “You think?” his father snapped back. “I was perfectly happy with my simple life back at the scrapyard.” The new Omni let out an exasperated breath and said, “But all that is nothing compared to what is heading our way.”

  “The Sahhrain fleet?” Jason asked.

  “We have two days … based on their current speed and trajectory. Our defenses are far lacking in what’s required to repel their overwhelming forces. Jason, I’ve faced lousy odds before … you have too … but this is on a whole other level. If we’re going to have any chance in hell of holding them to the outer boundary of the Sol System, we need that ship of yours back here. We need the Parcical.”

  “We already went over this, Admiral. Victory won’t come from a toe-to-toe battle with their approaching warships. I need time to come at them from another way.”

  “You held the Sahhrain at bay when in the Dacci system … and you did it all from the Parcical.”

  “Using methods I’m more than a little ashamed of. I’m pretty sure they were illegal and I promised not to use them again. It was a promise that got two of our Master Class Caldurian ships, along with their crews, back in our possession.”

  “I’m well aware of the promises you made to Brakken, the Sahhrain commander. I’ve gone over the reports. But your promises to him mean nothing when you contemplate on the fate of billions of people, not only within our own system but the thousands of others within the Alliance. Get real, Jason, war is a very nasty business. We will take advantage, by every means possible, to secure the safety of those under our purview.”

  Jason wondered, deep down, if he had subconsciously known that the swarm droids might again be used as a last resort option. Yes, he was worried about the impending Sahhrain attack, but not to the same extent he was fighting the Craing years ago, though certainly, the stakes were just as high today, if not higher. Was that
because he knew there was this horrendous last-resort weapon, the swarm droids, that could possibly be utilized again, no matter what he’d promised the Sahhrain commander? He hoped his promise … his word … meant more than that.

  The Omni continued, “Well, my responsibility is to command the assets we currently have—not chase after a two-hundred-year-old spacecraft that probably doesn’t even exist anymore. I’m ordering you, Captain, to bring that vessel back here!”

  Back in the present moment, Jason, staring now at Endromoline, did his best to clear his thoughts and concentrate on the problems at hand. He heard the familiar soft padding of Ricket’s footfalls approaching behind him. Glancing back, he noticed Ricket’s only focus was on his virtual notebook. Jason turned his full attention to him, watching him through the reversed side of the suspended virtual display.

  Eventually, Ricket looked up. “Sorry, Captain … I would like to show you something.”

  Jason raised his brow, signaling him to go ahead. Ricket tapped twice and pointed over Jason’s shoulder to the wraparound display.

  A color-coded overlay grid appeared above Endromoline.

  “What are we looking at, Ricket?”

  “I do not believe the Parcical’s sensors are able to differentiate between the substance of the planet and those of a spacecraft.”

  Jason continued to take in the colorized grid, lying atop the planet. There were yellows and greens—expanding out from the mid-point equator line—and darker shades of blues and purples at the farthest poles. “This is simply an infrared view,” Jason said.

  “Actually, a thermographic view, based on many … separate … infrared images, taken over the course of one hundred years. Because of the unique geological nature of this metal-based planet, there have been thirty-five separate expeditions, by just as many alien vessels. This far out in space—on the fringe of the Dacci system—the expeditions went unmolested or, more likely, undetected by either Blues or Sahhrain security forces.”