Eyes on Jason, Greco slowly brought the blade up to his father’s neck. Jason watched his father’s Adam’s apple dance up and down as he tried vainly to swallow.
The rage growing within was making him dizzy. Jason had never wanted to kill an enemy like he wanted to kill this Craing shit-hole.
“Captain Reynolds, your reputation precedes you. Fitting that I can deal with both of you … father and son.” His eyes slowly turned to Boomer and his smile broadened. “And daughter too … wonderful! All in one fell swoop.” He licked his already moist lips, then pursing them, licked them again. Tugging even harder on the Omni’s hair, he positioned the blade by his neck. Leaning closer to his ear, his voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “You were never a match for me, human. The day for you and your kind has passed.”
“Bite me …” his father croaked.
Jason, noting the rage building up in Boomer’s eyes—on the verge of doing something stupid that could get her grandfather, as well as the rest of them, killed—shouted, “Wait!”
Greco hesitated, the wide smile on his face momentarily faltering.
“I just want to say one thing,” Jason said.
Greco, with a heavy-lidded sigh, said, “Come on, Captain, there’s really nothing you can say or do.”
But in fact there is, Jason thought. He’d already opened a NanoCom channel to Orion. Without giving in to the urge to bring two fingers to his ear, he said, “Gunny … tell Ricket to unleash the hounds. Unleash them now!”
Greco’s expression turned to anger. “No! You’ll only be killing yourselves!” he spat. He lowered the blade several inches while he glowered at Jason. His attention was diverted long enough that he didn’t realize his nuts were now firmly in the grasp of the old man kneeling in front of him. His body went rigid, eyes wide as dinner plates, as a high-pitched scream emanated out of his large mealy lips.
Jason watched as the Omni, not letting go, struggled to his feet. One look at his father’s powerful—Popeye-sized—forearms made Jason wince. He figured the agony the hybrid was now experiencing must be off the charts.
In defense of their commander, the hybrids raised their weapons ready to fire.
Hundreds of swarm droids were suddenly upon them. Like mechanical mosquitos, each one the size of a barnyard turkey, they swarmed around with astonishing speed. As a trio of them hovered over the fully exposed back of the Omni, Jason stopped breathing. Had Ricket sufficient time to differentiate in them human DNA from hybrid DNA? Or was he about to witness his father’s horrific death?
The three swarm droids’ momentary hesitation passed. They turned toward the next nearest target—Greco. Jason watched as his father let loose with his grip on the hybrid’s private parts and stagger backward. The three swarm droids with their long angled, dagger-like, proboscises pierced Commander Greco in three separate places at virtually the same moment—his upper right cheek, his left thigh, and his left eye. They rhythmically pumped—like humping Chihuahuas—something into him. Then, apparently finished with him, they quickly flew in search of their next quarry.
Boomer stepped up to Jason’s side. Together, they watched as Greco’s internal organs seemed to turn to mush—gooey red muck began streaming from his eyes, mouth, nose, and ears—and probably every other bodily orifice. His body dropped to the deck, now a soupy-looking mess.
Boomer reached down and gently pried Bristol from his fetal position on the deck. Then Jason, the Omni, Boomer, and Bristol watched in horrified fascination as the swarm droids did their bidding around them.
Boomer said, “And this is happening …”
The Omni finished her sentence for her, “Aboard the entire ship. And damn their souls to hell … if they even have souls.”
Over his NanoCom, he heard Gunny’s excited voice, “Fleet’s attacking, Cap! Parcical’s in trouble … we’re abandoning ship … heading over to the Jumelle … her shields are restored and seem to be holding … for now.”
“Got it,” he said, then, turning to the others, “We need to get out of here.” Jason configured his HUD for a group phase-shift.
Chapter 62
Fringe of the Kuiper Belt
The Jumelle Deck 4
__________________________
In a flash they phase-shifted within the Jumelle’s main Deck 4 corridor. Dira rushed out of Medical to help them with the injured Omni. She gave Jason a quick expression—thank God you’re still alive. Dira and Boomer, each placing an arm over one shoulder, escorted Jason’s father into Medical.
Breaking one of his own rules, and leaving Bristol standing alone in the corridor, Jason phase-shifted onto the bridge, where he found Orion just sitting down at the tactical station, Seaman Gordon at comms, and Sergeant Major Stone at the helm. The bridge began to shake so violently that Jason stumbled on his way over to the captain’s chair. Half crawling, he made it into his seat, taking in the wrap-around display. A logistical segment feed was front and center while the rest of the 360-degree display view showed the raging space battle going on around them. Too many Vastma-class ships to count were firing their plasma cannons.
“Get us out of here, Helm!” Jason yelled.
“Ten more minutes before we can phase-shift, Cap,” Stone said. “We’re moving … still sub-light … but it won’t be enough.”
Jason said, “So I guess killing Greco wasn’t enough to …”
“Made things worse … hybrids are out for blood, now,” Orion said, all her attention focused on her board and the weapons systems available to her.
Jason caught sight of the top of Ricket’s head, moving quickly at the front of the bridge, and then he was in full view and headed his way. “Captain!”
“It’ll have to wait, Ricket. We’re in deep shit here.” He watched as the Parcical continued to take on fire from two Vastma-class warships—a piece of its aft section breaking away from the rest of the ship. “I don’t want that ship taken by the enemy, Gunny! Destroy her if you have to.”
“The way she’s taking those direct hits; I don’t think we’ll need to. Jumelle’s shields are failing … and we’ve got seven Vastmas on our tail!”
“Captain.”
“What is it, Ricket?”
Ricket stepped in closer, his words barely audible: “I’ve interpolated some of the data. Not all but …”
“What data? What are you talking about?” Jason said, his eyes still locked on the logistical display.
“The Morian Obelisk. I contacted …”
“No way!” Orion said—sitting straight up in her chair. “Um … Cap … you’re not going to believe—”
“I see them, Gunny,” Jason said, rising to his feet.
What Jason was viewing seemed impossible. Without a doubt they were Caldurian. Flashing into view in groups of twenty or more ships, ten groups so far had phase-shifted around the periphery of the Jumelle. Similar to a Rogue Class warship, like the Parcical, they were larger and sleeker in design. Two hundred of their vessels were now moving at incredible sub-light speeds. They darted in and surrounded the larger Vastma-class ships as if they were standing still. And then the Caldurians opened up on the enemy—bright violet plasma fire crisscrossed the heavens from all around. The closest Vastma-class warships erupted into one huge fantastic fireball. He watched as ten … twenty … thirty … warships were instantly annihilated—he lost count after that.
The fleet of Caldurian warships, unrelenting, maintained their dominating blitzkrieg. Well out of visual sight now—the logistical feed showed the full extent of what was happening within a span of many of thousands of miles. With half the Sahhrain fleet destroyed, the Caldurians ceased firing. All became still.
A phase-shift flash momentarily engulfed the overhead display into whiteness. A lone Caldurian vessel—looking close enough to touch—floated off their forward starboard hull. The logistical feed disappeared.
“I didn’t do that,” Orion said.
A new feed appeared in its place. Jason sat down and wai
ted for the alien to speak.
“I am Wothnile … Officer One of Dispatch 11.”
Jason appraised the Caldurian fleet commander, who looked younger than himself. He had a full head of thick black hair, which was brushed back in the style Caldurians seemed to favor. His uniform looked crisp—perfectly tailored to his tall, trim frame. He was also clearly angry.
“This … should never have happened. The Caldurians do not get involved with the petty … tribal … wars of any of the barbarian species in this realm.”
“Well, I thank you, anyway. We thank you,” Jason said. “How did you know to come … to help us?”
“We detected a signal … a very rare … important signal. The complex signal from a Morian Obelisk. We were not aware there were any left. They are sacred to our people. Upon our arrival, we detected the obelisk was on board the old Caldurian vessel you are now inhabiting. Entering the realm, protecting the obelisk from the attackers, was of utmost concern to us.”
Jason did his best to keep the confusion he was experiencing from showing on his face. He turned to Ricket and saw the smile on the small Craing’s face.
“Captain … I sent the signal. I must be honest, I was not one hundred percent certain my message would be accurate, but the end results seem to be acceptable …”
Turning his attention back to Officer Wothnile, he saw the Caldurian’s expression, upon hearing Ricket’s words, grow even angrier, if possible.
“What the Craing man says in not possible! In fact … it is blasphemy.”
“Look, I appreciate your help here. We are clearly in your debt. We seem to always be in the Caldurians’ debt. Ricket is …”
The officer interrupted, his face intense, “This is the being called Ricket? Of course! Yes … the amazing Craing man who slept for hundreds of years.”
Though both Jason and Ricket nodded, Jason didn’t like the sudden intense interest in his friend. The look on Wothnile’s face went far beyond admiration—it was turning to something akin to covetousness.
“No one has ever captured the essence of the Morian Obelisk. It was thought to be impossible,” the officer said, bowing his head in deference to Ricket. His eyes stayed on Ricket’s. “We will be in touch … Ricket … Soon … I promise.” Turning back to Jason, he said, “Your enemy has been neutralized. A third of their fleet destroyed. We ceased aggression as soon as an unconditional surrender was received, so do with them now as you wish. Do not call on the Caldurian people again … do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, perfectly … and thank you,” but the feed had already closed—the Caldurians flashing away as quickly as they’d arrived.
Epilogue
Sol System
The Jumelle — Medical
__________________________
Two weeks later …
Jason entered the Jumelle’s Medical compartment to find Dira and Sergeant Major Stone standing close together, speaking in hushed tones. They both looked up as Jason approached. Stone looked tired and crestfallen.
Jason shifted his eyes to the MediPod behind them. “No change?”
“Not really. I’ve infused him with a fourth dosing of fresh nanites,” Dira said. “But …” her words trailed off.
“They want to take him … take him from me,” Stone said, her eyes welling up with fresh tears.
Jason looked to Dira, not understanding.
“Rizzo’s parents. They said we’ve held his body here long enough. They want him transferred to their home … somewhere in New England, I think.”
“That’ll kill him for certain, won’t it?” Stone asked.
“The last correspondence we sent them, we requested his body be delivered in a MediPod. At least there would be some hope then.”
Jason peered through the small observation window. “Would it help to give him one of the newer model MediPods … like those on the Parcical?”
“I don’t know … maybe,” Dira said, placing a hand on Stone’s shoulder as the younger woman began to openly weep.
Her hands covering her face, Stone said, “I’m sorry, Cap. You’d think by this time I’d be better able to cope.”
Jason’s mind flashed to his own internal sorrow—about to lose his close friend Rizzo, on top of losing both Hanna and Leon. Like Rizzo, they had become family. He loved them no less than if they were blood relatives. He fought back tears now welling in his own eyes and left the bridge without speaking another word.
As he continued down the corridor, he welcomed the silence and momentary solitude. He thought about everything that had transpired over the last few weeks and months. An all-out war was averted—again, this time under the heinous leadership of Commander Greco, as he and the Craing hybrids aimed for Earth. Astonishingly, several thousand Vastma-class warships were destroyed due to the Caldurians’ last-minute intervention. Their fortuitous appearance not only saved Jason’s crew and the Jumelle, but what was left of the Parcical as well. Beyond doubt, the Sol System, and even Allied space, had been spared. At the other end of the Kuiper Belt, Star Watch fleet was there—waiting for the few hundred rogue hybrid vessels as they attempted to enter the Sol System. When ten of their ships were destroyed, the Craing hybrids surrendered without further resistance.
Between the ravages of the swarm droids, the amazing Caldurian fleet, and the final battle with Star Watch, over one hundred and fifty thousand hybrids were killed. A slaughter of unparalleled magnitude. Upon taking command again of the U.S. Fleet, the Omni finally outlawed usage of swarm droids, though Jason doubted that order would hold up indefinitely. Both his father and Jason now had the Craing to deal with. Under an inexperienced empress, Gaddy, the empire had once again come under close scrutiny. But not all was lost there—they had indeed demonstrated that keeping too tight a leash on a people was counter-productive. The Craing, henceforth, would be allowed more independence to reestablish relationships with their neighboring systems. Of course, the majority of their remaining Vastma-class warship fleet would be confiscated—merged into the U.S. Fleet—or become added supplements to other Alliance worlds’ diminished fleets.
Change was indeed coming, and had already begun. Mollie was back at college and Boomer had returned to Harpaign, with Drom. As the reigning Goldwon, her presence within Capital City was mandatory. The Blues had lost so much over the last few months and the return of their Goldwon—even a human one—would go a long way in returning the Dacci people to normalcy. Then there were the Tahli ministry members: Three had killed Hanna and Leon, and they were still at large somewhere within another multiverse realm. Jason would not forget their crimes; one day—hopefully soon—he’d end them.
The surviving Tahli Masters of the Council of One on Harpaign, within the Dacci system, had now gone to ground. Jason suspected the surviving Blues elders had ulterior motives for Boomer’s return. Perhaps her Kahill Callan martial arts skills could be useful as a bounty hunter—to chase down all surviving Tahli ministry members.
What seemed somewhat strange was the request Jason received from the young Sahhrain warrior, Jarial Shakrim—the son of Lord Zintar Shakrim—to stay on. The boy had no wish to return to his people. He wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to live even if he did so. The Sahhrain had faced devastating losses of late and the Shakrim legacy was apparently at an end. Jason had approved a temporary visa for the lad, but didn’t quite know what to do with him.
Jason contemplated on other radical changes being implemented even now as he walked the corridor. After the demise of his old enemy, Commander Greco, his father had fully embraced his Omni position. Perhaps, after squeezing life out of the Craing hybrid commander’s balls, he had regained the newfound confidence he’d needed.
The Omni wanted a total reorganization of fleet military personnel and assets. With the new bounty of thousands of Vastma-class warships—the U.S. Fleet was now vast. His biggest problem would be similar to that which the Sahhrain once faced: how to find crew for so many vessels?
The Omni had asked Jaso
n what he wanted—both personally and for the Star Watch fleet. He now recalled their conversation:
“Dad … to be perfectly honest … I don’t want to continue with things as they are.” Watching his father become uneasy, Jason added, “Look, you now have plenty of assets to protect the Alliance. You don’t need Star Watch for that too. I propose that we split this section of the galaxy called the Alliance … into individual, separate districts. Let’s say … ten of them. Each district will be protected by Star Watch … and assigned one of the Caldurian vessels to police their designated areas. If and when needed, ship captains … let’s call them district sheriffs, can assist neighboring sheriffs … or request help from the U.S. Fleet.”
“I like it. But I’m telling you right now, I’m keeping the Parcical under my own command. She’s proven to be an amazing vessel.”
“That’s fine, Dad, I’m far more comfortable on the Jumelle.” He again saw his father wince at the ship’s new designation. “One more thing … when figuring out the various ten or eleven districts, I want district one … that includes the Sol System and her neighboring systems.”
“We’ll see, it’s a lot to consider, son.”
Jason’s attention returned to the present. He slowed as he approached the DeckPort, some thirty paces ahead. Halting, he briefly turned around, gazing back the way he’d come, before proceeding forward. A smile found its way onto his face—no, she was not The Lilly, but he knew, as captain of the Jumelle, he’d found his home.
The End.
Thank you for reading Glory for Sea & Space, Star Watch – Book 4. Find out what happens next—stay tuned for Star Watch, Book 5. There’s lots of action still to come and I hope you’ll come along for the ride!
Mark Wayne McGinnis.
If you enjoy these books, please leave a review of Glory for Sea & Space on Amazon.com—it really, really helps!
Glory for Sea and Space (Star Watch Book 4) Page 35
