Glory for Sea and Space (Star Watch Book 4)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “You know the Parcical scans for temperature variances, Ricket, and that I already checked for that,” Orion said.

  “Yes, I am aware of that, Orion. Thank you. But the Parcical is scanning only the present moment in time.” Ricket then gestured toward the display. “If you watch the reverse-evolution … or the backward progression … you will see why a historical representation is better.”

  Jason and Orion exchanged a quick glance, turning in unison toward the display.

  Ricket said, “As you watch the planet spinning, note that the timeframe has been increased. Every new revolution is approximately a span of ten years, starting from today then moving backward in time.”

  Jason watched as the greens and yellows on the overlay grid varied slightly, while the purples and blues varied not at all. Nothing of any importance seemed to be happening.

  Jason was ready to put a stop to it when Orion stiffened.

  “There!”

  Jason missed it. He followed her outstretched finger and saw the tiny blob of green near the planet’s mostly purple upper north pole. As the spinning progression of ten-year spans continued to race back in time, the tiny green blob appeared again and again—each time becoming more and more yellow in color.

  Jason smiled. “It makes sense. The Pungshy’s internal systems still continue to generate heat … a certain amount of radiation. But after one hundred years, I’m guessing not so much?”

  “That is correct, Captain. But this indicates where the Pungshy is currently located, and that she is, most likely, still in one piece.”

  Jason, raising two clenched fists, pounded the air. “Yes!”

  The bridge went quiet, all eyes darting toward him. The moment quickly passed and everyone went back to work.

  Jason sat down in the captain’s chair, bringing his full attention to Ricket, now at eye-level with him.

  “Based on what you know or surmise … hell, guess … can that ship be resurrected?”

  Ricket didn’t answer right away. He looked to Orion, then back at Jason. “Most assuredly so, Captain. Over time, and with the necessary equipment from the Parcical.”

  Jason chewed on that for a moment. “We don’t have much time. A day … maybe. And the Parcical has been ordered back to the Sol System.”

  “Ordered?” Orion asked.

  “I turned over my Omni responsibilities to my father. I didn’t realize he was going to be such a hard-ass about it. The Sahhrain fleet will arrive at Sol within two days and there isn’t a more formable warship at his disposal than the Parcical.”

  “So what do you want to do, Cap?” Orion asked.

  Jason turned back toward the display, chewing his lower lip. “Ricket … you have two hours to assemble a team and the equipment necessary to bring the Pungshy back to life, and, if possible, extricate it from the planet.”

  He turned to Orion. “You’ll take the Parcical back to Sol. Before that, I want a squad of Sharks here, equipped with SuitPacs and multi-guns, ready to deploy.”

  “You’re staying … going down to the Pungshy?” she asked.

  “Most definitely.”

  * * *

  It was determined that utilizing a shuttle, versus phase-shifting the team individually, would make the most sense. Over the preceding hour, Ricket was able to fine-tune his thermal scans. He now had a three-dimensional model of the Prowess Class vessel buried not fifty miles below the surface, but one hundred and fifty. En route to the flight deck, Jason and Ricket walked together, discussing the mission’s parameters. Ricket brought up the Pungshy’s 3D model on his virtual notebook and just the sight of the ship brought Jason to a standstill. It was clear he still carried some emotional baggage when it came to his old ship. Apparently, now to her sister ship as well. It had been quite some time, years, since he’d last seen that particular spacecraft’s profile—since he’d last seen The Lilly. She was identical … or was she?

  “What is that, Ricket?” Jason asked, pointing to a second set of stubby wings at the top, stern section of the craft.

  “The Pungshy, The Lilly’s sister ship, is fifty feet longer and has two additional decks—both at the far aft section of the vessel. Also, she has higher and lower dual stubby wings versus the single set on The Lilly.”

  As they emerged from a DeckPort, Jason looked up in time to see that a commotion was taking place midway across the flight deck.

  Bristol stood in the midst of nine towering Sharks, all with their hands on hips, looking ready to stomp him like a bug. Bristol continued to rant on about something or other.

  “What’s the problem?” Jason asked, arriving at the open tail section of the shuttle.

  “The problem is … this over-grown fuck-weed has taken up every available inch of real estate with his ridiculous weapons lockers,” Bristol said, gesturing toward the Shark squad commander, Master Sergeant Gillroy Blatt.

  Jason knew Blatt and that he was a straight shooter. He’d come up through the ranks on the Minian, and he knew Billy liked him. Jason eyed the pallet of strange-looking gizmos sitting on the flight deck that clearly wouldn’t fit in the shuttle’s cabin along with the Sharks and their already-loaded weapons lockers.

  Jason appraised Blatt’s shiny, bald, bullet-like head, and his accentuated thick neck, chest, and billowing arm muscles. The man spent serious time inside the onboard gym. Because he had no eyebrows—only a straight-lined scar running from one side of his forehead to the other—the result of a friendly fire plasma-gun accident years earlier—he always looked to be scowling and angry.

  “We don’t have time for this, Master Sergeant. Bristol’s equipment is essential. Mission critical.”

  “We need our weapons, Captain. We don’t go into a hostile situation without our weapons.”

  “Well, I don’t know how hostile it will be. The ship’s been sitting in the dark down there for two centuries,” Jason said.

  Blatt shrugged. Normally, Blatt’s type of insubordination would get his ass tossed in the brig, but there wasn’t time for any of that. Billy ordinarily would deal with issues like this—not Jason. In that moment, he was reminded how much he missed his Cuban-American friend.

  Bristol threw up his hands. “Look at him … he’s been shot in the fucking head. You don’t get a scar like that from shaving. It’s affected him … he can’t make intelligent decisions … obviously! Captain, tell him to pull half those lockers out of there!”

  The sergeant crossed his tree-trunk-sized arms over his now puffed-out chest and stood firm.

  “Why not simply pull out the seats? It’s not like it’s going to be a long ride,” Sergeant Major Gail Stone said, approaching them—a duffle slung over one shoulder. She’d volunteered to be the shuttle’s pilot—and later sit at the Pungshy’s helm if they could get the ship operational again.

  “Do it … pull the seats. You have five minutes, Master Sergeant Blatt,” Jason ordered.

  Chapter 45

  Fringe of the Dacci Star System

  High Orbit above Endromoline

  The Parcical’s Flight Deck

  __________________________

  Jason liked their strange, odd-shaped, medium-sized shuttle. Neither Caldurian in origin or technology, it was, Ricket had told him, from the worlds of the Mazzett—a cruel, war-mongering race of people that were eventually destroyed by the Craing, seventy-five years earlier. Apparently, the Caldurians, thinking the shuttle’s design interesting enough to abscond with her, placed the ship into the Parcical’s nearly limitless micro-vault storage facility. Since shuttles were in short supply of late—some destroyed and others parked within the flight decks of other Star Watch ships—Ricket, on a search, discovered three Mazzett shuttles. He exhumed all three from the Parcical’s micro-vault. Whereas most shuttles provided space for only two or three within their cockpits, Mazzett shuttles afforded seating for four individuals, as well as a separate, forward entrance hatchway.

  With their equipment loaded, and the last of the Sharks on board, th
ey were ready to embark. Bristol kept updating Jason on what his expectations should be for bringing the Pungshy, a two-hundred-year-old Caldurian ship, back to life. Jason nodded as he listened to Bristol’s somewhat negative prognosis.

  “I appreciate that, Bristol … but let’s keep an open mind. Remember, my father pretty much did the same thing on finding The Lilly.”

  “Hold on … wait!”

  Jason and Bristol spun to see Dira, her medical duffle swinging over her shoulder, jogging toward them. Jason glanced into the back of the shuttle, noting there was zero extra room—even for someone as petite as Dira.

  “Hey, I’m coming with you,” she said. Her tone made it clear it wasn’t a request. She slowed her pace, moving toward the open rear hatchway. “Um … oh boy … not a lot of room in there …”

  In the span of seconds, the nine, packed-in like sardines, adult Sharks turned pre-adolescent. With whoops and whistles, they coaxed Dira to join them in the cramped cabin. She eyed them with amused irritation. Looking back over her shoulder at Jason, she asked, “Is it okay? I didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to see The Lilly’s sister ship. I’m sure, too, having a doctor along wouldn’t hurt.”

  The Sharks became even more vocal—pleading with Jason to let her join them. Typically, the Sharks were confined to the Parcical’s lower decks—Billy’s domain. Looking embarrassed by the attention, Jason’s wife nervously brushed her bangs aside with her fingertips, something Jason knew she did when she was uncomfortable with a situation. In reality, she looked younger than any of the Sharks—and, in that moment, Jason not only felt old, but somewhat obsolete.

  He returned her smile. “Of course, I’m glad to have you along.”

  Since the gangway had retracted, she reached a hand up to one of the over-eager Sharks. As he pulled her up into the cabin, Jason’s expression changed. “You will all extend her the respect and courtesy she deserves. Don’t forget … just because Billy’s not here, doesn’t mean I can’t throw any of your asses in the brig for a month. Touch her, and I’ll make that a full year.” Jason’s eyes moved over the now-silenced huddle of men. His eyes came to rest on Master Sergeant Gillroy Blatt. “Watch your men.”

  Blatt returned an indifferent expression.

  As the rear hatch began to close, Jason caught a last glimpse of Dira. She seemed to have folded her body, squeezed in now among a towering horde of tattooed—muscle-bound—Sharks. She held her duffle to her chest—her arms tightly wrapped around it. Only then did she look as if she regretted her hasty decision to come along. That, at least, gave Jason some consolation.

  Jason and Bristol hurried toward the forward ladder integrated into the outer hull— near the swooping boomerang-shaped nose of the craft. Bristol climbed up first, disappearing into the open hatchway above. Jason took a parting look at the Parcical’s busy flight deck—wondering if he’d ever see her again. He pushed the odd thought away, suddenly very glad Dira was coming along on their mission too.

  * * *

  Sergeant Major Gail Stone was sitting before the cockpit’s control panel, when Jason took the seat to her right. He gave her a quick nod and she brought the Goliath, which was the shuttle’s new designation, off the deck, and goosed the craft forward. Steering slightly to port, she headed toward the large, arched-shaped, aqua-blue bay door.

  Ricket and Bristol sat side by side, in the two seats directly behind. Jason noticed Bristol, turning his body about—examining his seat, then the others. All were equipped with two headrests.

  Bristol glanced over at Ricket and made a face. “Don’t tell me … the Mazzetts. They had two heads … those sons of bitches had two heads!”

  Ricket looked at Bristol with a curious expression, not understanding his excitement at something not uncommon in a universe diverse with any number of anatomical anomalies.

  “Plan still to get us in close?” Sergeant Stone asked, ignoring the two behind them.

  “Enter the planet’s atmosphere and bring our shuttle down as near to the surface as prudent. Once closer to the Pungshy,” Jason glanced back toward Ricket, “I’m hoping our sensors may get a better read on that ship’s condition.”

  It took mere minutes to navigate down toward the surface to the pre-specified coordinates. The shuttle hovered fifty feet above the surface. Peering out the forward observation window, Jason took in the craggy terrain below. No longer did Endromoline seem the same colorless, grayish-white planet it appeared to be from space. Up close, there were chiseled-out canyons, showing cross-sections of the millions of years of sedimentary gradations, in hues of blue and gray. A sparse spattering of green foliage peeked through the snow-covered landscape.

  Ricket said, “The temperature here averages ten degrees Fahrenheit. This planet, though extremely cold, is habitable … I imagine.”

  “Uh huh, I’ll pass on that,” Bristol said.

  Ricket brought his virtual notebook to life and the Pungshy appeared on the display, suspended between Stone’s and Jason’s shoulders. No longer a 3D model representation, they stared at the actual vessel, constrained within a sea of black stone. Ricket manipulated the display and the visual perspective changed.

  “What am I looking at now?” Jason asked, tilting his head sideways.

  “That is the Pungshy’s flight deck, Captain. It appears to be in good order … adequate space available to hold the Goliath.”

  Jason continued studying the interior of the Caldurian vessel as Ricket changed the perspective several times. Aware of his growing excitement, his elevated heart rate, Jason was reminded how he’d missed The Lilly.

  “Let’s do it … go ahead and phase-shift into her flight bay, Sergeant Major.”

  * * *

  After the initial brilliant white flash associated with the phase-shift, Jason continued staring into the blackness outside the shuttle. Only illumination from the craft’s cockpit console, and several outside running lights along the perimeter of the Goliath’s hull, offered relief from the oppressive darkness within the Pungshy’s interior.

  Stone tapped on the console and the area around the Goliath became bathed in warm illumination. Another tap and the cabin lights came on.

  Jason stood and said, “Bristol … go ahead and open the hatch behind you.”

  Bristol looked from one side of the hatchway to the other before locating the small, green-glowing, touch square. He tapped it, and the hatch slid out of the way into the bulkhead. The mass of crammed-together bodies turned forward.

  “How about someone letting us off this fucking tin can,” an unseen Shark said.

  “In a second,” Jason said. “Two-man teams; no one goes anywhere alone, understood?”

  There were several grunts that could be sounds of affirmation. “I want this vessel searched—every corridor, every compartment. I want this ship cleared … I don’t want any surprises. Go ahead and initialize your battle suits.”

  “You don’t need to talk to my Sharks like they’re children. They’ll do their job,” Master Sergeant Gillroy Blatt said. All Jason could see of him was the polished dome of his bald head, standing midway back in the cramped cabin.

  “I have no doubt you’re right about that,” Jason said.

  “Bristol and Ricket, you’re with me … what we’re looking for is in Engineering. There’s a lot riding on finding this obelisk, and the two of you getting it to work.”

  “As you know, Captain we already have the ability to cross into the multiverse via the Zip Farm the Parcical … utilizing the multiverse way station.”

  “I know that, Ricket … but we have no way of knowing where to go. The Obelisk … it’s how, I suspect, Rom Dasticon traversed the multiverse. There’s a good chance we can use it to find the girls … at the very least figure out where they are at. The obelisk is the key.”

  He motioned for Stone to release the rear hatch and extend the gangway. Both Bristol and Ricket, already climbing out of the forward hatch, were making their way down the ladder. In less than a minute
, the stuffed Goliath was practically empty.

  Jason walked back through the open cockpit hatch, making his way through the cabin. He hefted up a weapons locker, assisting two Sharks transferring gear to other Sharks. A bucket brigade of men moved up and down the gangway, hoisting armfuls of equipment and weapons.

  Jason was the last one to exit the Goliath. As he walked down the ramp, his eyes took in the surrounding, dimly illuminated, flight deck of the Pungshy. Shapes, not so distant, were barely discernible in the darkness. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see clearer. Nearest to them were three large shuttlecraft; farther on was a suspended rack of ten unmanned drones; and beyond them was a straight row of sleek-looking fighter crafts. If he hadn’t known better, he’d swear he was standing within the hull of The Lilly. Unexpectedly, he found himself smiling.

  He watched as the Sharks, one by one, initialized their battle suits. Dira, to his right, gave him a playful smile before she too initialized hers. As she approached him, she reached out a hand and grasped his SuitPac device, hanging from his belt. Taking it between her thumb and forefinger, she squeezed the two inset spring tabs. Within two seconds, his battle suit too was fully initialized, and he found himself gazing back at her through his helmet’s amber visor. He guessed she too was similarly affected by being here … like coming home.

  He heard her words over the open channel: “You ready now to do some exploring, Captain?”

  About to answer, another voice came over the channel: “Um … I think you’re going to want to see this … first.” It was Bristol, and he sounded nervous.

  Chapter 46

  Unknown Multiverse Realm

  Crimon, Lower-world

  __________________________