Scrapyard Ship

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Jason said, “Admiral, this is Captain Reynolds.”

  “Captain, by now you have undoubtedly noticed the activity off to your north.”

  “Army deployment. We talked about this, Admiral,” Jason bristled.

  “Let’s just say the army was not receptive to the navy negotiating on their behalf. Leaving that subject for the time being, I’ve been on the horn non-stop for the last hour to the Pentagon, Joint Chiefs of Staff, as well as to the president. To be honest, there’s very little consensus between them all.”

  Jason continued to watch as several Apache-attack helicopters landed, joining the distant formation. The last thing he wanted to do was fight against the same people he was trying to protect. “From the looks of things, our military forces have decided to go on the offensive. Let me ask you this. What will it take to change their attack plans from being adversarial, to working together with us in fighting a mutual threat?”

  “They simply don’t trust you, Jason. As far as they’re concerned you’re still a Lieutenant Commander in the U.S. Navy, up on charges for second-degree murder, as well as being AWOL.”

  “There’s more than a few of us who are AWOL on this ship. Let me ask you personally, Admiral. Do you believe me?”

  There was a longer pause than Jason hoped for, but the answer eventually came. “Yes, as I said before, I knew your father—know your father. I’ve looked through your records and you are a fine officer, although monumentally impetuous. I’ll back you, Jason. I’m just not sure how far that will go.”

  “Thank you, Admiral, that means a lot to me. But the simple fact of the matter is we, and that means us here on this ship, as well as everyone else on this planet, don’t have much time. A Craing fleet is en route; unfortunately you’ll have to take my word for it.”

  “I do, others won’t.” The Admiral said, with regret.

  Jason had the beginnings of an idea, “I take it this conversation is being monitored, even by the Joint Chiefs of Staff—Yes?”

  “That’s probably a good assumption.”

  “Okay, I have an idea. Probably relates to that impetuousness you just referred to. Admiral, I’ll get back to you within a half hour, if that’s acceptable. Oh, and please convey my apologies to Army higher command for the trouble they’ve gone to out here, but we’re leaving Texas.”

  Jason gestured for Orion to cut the connection. “XO, let’s get the ship prepped for another flight. McBride, set a new course, this time for Washington D.C. I’d like to be off the ground in ten minutes. Orion, have Billy meet me in the mess hall with the remainder of his team. XO, you have the bridge.”

  Billy had assembled his team as instructed. Jason entered the mess hall and, as usual, Ricket was not far behind. Using his virtual tablet Jason enlarged the display to several feet out in diameter, and proceeded to outline his plan. Billy had put on a new jumpsuit and seemed no worse for wear. He and his men paid close attention to what would be expected from them.

  There were more than a few open-mouthed blank stares. Billy smirked, “So you’re really not shitting us—we’re doing this?”

  * * *

  Back in the command chair, Jason checked his tablet one more time. Ricket had configured it to access the Internet. Even with the incalculable processing capabilities of the AI, Jason still felt more comfortable Googling certain things.

  “We’re ready to lift off, Captain,” the XO said. Jason looked up at the display, curious how this new view was even possible—maybe from a piggybacked signal from an orbiting satellite? The Lilly truly was something to behold, the sweeping curve of her matte-black hull, and the overall simplicity of her lines—set against the stark contrast of the surrounding desert landscape. At a parameter of several miles up, he saw four military fortifications had been erected. Each one appeared like a small anthill with a flurry of activity—little black ants moving this way and that.

  “When you’re ready, McBride, take us up to low orbit and then back down to the specified coordinates”

  The ensign acknowledged the command, although he looked even more nervous than usual. The ship lifted off and hovered for several moments before it made a gentle sweep upwards toward the stratosphere. Jason looked toward the rear of the screen’s 360-degree display, which showed the ascending view from the ship’s stern. He wondered if the hundreds, if not thousands, of military personnel were looking up at her swift ascent, and were disappointed there wouldn’t be a fight today.

  “Again, everyone, this only works if we have the element of surprise. Billy, you in position?”

  “Aye, sir. Teams are in position—one forward and one aft,” Billy replied.

  “Sir, we’re starting to make our descent. McBride relayed from his seat at the helm. The display changed from the dark nothingness of the upper stratosphere to the rapidly approaching North American eastern seaboard and the bright blue Atlantic to the east. “We’re at 1,000 miles, Captain.” Said McBride. “Shields and signal dampeners are up.”

  Perkins, seated next to Jason, leaned in close, careful not to be overheard by the rest of the crew. “Sir, are you really sure there’ll be enough room? The Lilly’s got quite a substantial backside if you hadn’t noticed,” Perkins whispered, and then sat back in his chair.

  “I think we’ll be fine, XO,” Jason said, with as much confidence as he could muster.

  “600 miles and closing, sir,” came from the helm. “400 miles—200—100—25…” Washington, D.C. sprawled before them, the recognizable shapes of the Capitol Building, the long quad that stretched between the Washington and Lincoln monuments, and then the winding blue of the Potomac River. And there, on the far side, was their destination.

  “Go ahead and phase-shift now, Ensign,” the captain ordered, his eyes locked on the display. The view instantly changed from a picture postcard view of Washington, D.C. to a series of drab seven-story concrete buildings that encircled the ship.

  “Shift successful, Captain. We are on the ground in the center courtyard of the Pentagon building.”

  “Thank you, Helm. Extend our shields ten yards around the ship. Open aft and forward gangways,” Jason ordered. “Billy, make a perimeter around the outside of the ship and stay within the shields. Orion, connect me with the admiral again, please.” Jason said, with the hint of a smile.

  Admiral Cramer’s loud and angry voice filled the bridge. “What the hell have you done, Reynolds? Do you have any idea of the repercussions a stunt like this… hold on, I’ve got the Secretary of Defense on the other line.” The bridge went quiet; all eyes were on the captain. “Okay, I’m putting the defense secretary through,” she said, sounding thoroughly disgusted.

  “Captain, this is Benjamin Walker, Secretary of Defense. Seems you’ve paid us a little visit at the DOD. Would you like to explain?” he asked, as calmly as if he was talking about the nice spring weather.

  “I apologize for the dramatics, Mr. Secretary, but half measures were never going to work. I think we all know that.”

  “But landing in the Pentagon center courtyard, Captain? We were already sitting at DEFCON 2. This has brought us to DEFCON 1. Each branch of the military’s been deployed.”

  Jason was prepared for that response. “There’s a clock ticking, and far too much is at stake—the fate of our country—the world. We’re simply not going to play any more games. You have a unique, one time only, opportunity to be an active participant in how things will transpire. This ship, like it or not, is humanity’s only ace in the hole. I suggest you, and whichever chiefs are present, come aboard for a more in-depth discussion.”

  “I beg your pardon, Captain?” the Secretary of Defense said, incredulously.

  “Come on over, it’s perfectly safe—bring your own security detail. But before you decide, remember, I could have just as easily put this ship down on the South Lawn of the White House. If you’re not inclined, or you’re too busy, perhaps the president will be more accommodating.” The reply took several long moments.

  �
��There’s a lot that has to be undone here. To be honest, I’m not even sure it can be. Give me ten minutes, Captain—I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

  Jason smiled at the bridge crew and turned to his XO. “Find Plimpton and let him know we’re having guests for dinner.”

  All six of the sixteen Chiefs of Staff, the Secretary of Defense, as well as a security detail emerged from The Pentagon building onto the inner courtyard. It was early evening and The Lilly’s running lights were on, giving the ship an impressive first impression. Standing at attention and saluting, Billy and his team lined up in two rows. Jason, standing at the rear gangway, also saluted as the contingent of officials approached.

  As the impressive group approached with star-studded shoulders, oversized stripes, and chests ablaze with ribbons, Jason was momentarily intimidated. He recognized Benjamin Walker. His broad shoulders, large square head, topped off with a mane of thick black hair, contributed to his air of strength and authority. The group came to a stop and reluctantly returned the captain’s salute. Walker’s face fell when he noticed several large trees had been toppled and now jutted out sideways from beneath The Lilly’s wide keel.

  “Thank you for the nice reception, Captain,” the Secretary of Defense said cordially. “Just so you know, at this moment there are more than a few crosshairs trained on both you and your crew, as well as this vessel.”

  Jason had noticed multiple sniper rifle barrels protruding from upper floor windows. In the air space above the Pentagon, helicopters circled relentlessly.

  “With that said,” the secretary continued, “I’d like to make some quick introductions.” The Secretary of Defense and several appointed chiefs huddled forward into a semicircle around Jason at the base of the gangway. “Captain Jason Reynolds, this is Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Brian Carter, United States Marine Corps; Chief of Staff of the Navy, Vice-Admiral Harold Brightman; Chief of Staff of the Army, General Eric Slayton; and Chief of Staff of the Air Force, General Peter Bickerdike.”

  “Welcome, gentlemen, please follow me.”

  Chapter 10

  The military chiefs and a select few of their security detail were led directly to The Lilly’s lower level mess hall. It was clear the Joint Chiefs would need to stay in constant contact with their aides and other subordinates outside the ship. Jason had worked out a system with Billy and the other SEALs. Each would be assigned to a chief, which would ensure that no one was left unescorted. There was reluctance from the Joint Chief’s security detail concerning the use of the DeckPorts, but eventually Defense Secretary Walker barreled his way in front and murmured something about them needing to grow a pair. The others then followed suit, giddy as children on their first Disneyland ride.

  Jason was surprised to see the mess hall had been transformed into a formal meeting room. Tablecloths had been spread over pushed-together smaller tables and the cafeteria counter was hidden behind a temporary bulkhead. A ten-foot virtual display hovered in the air at the far end of the hall. Jason had to smile when he recognized the suspended image of The Lilly—one that had been taken by an F-18 fighter earlier, at Air Station Meridian.

  “Please be seated, gentlemen,” Jason said, taking his own seat at the head of the table. He watched as the three security men took up positions against the bulkhead walls while the group of older men, mostly in their fifties and sixties, took their own seats around the table.

  Watching them, he couldn’t help but think about his father’s warning concerning Craing human-like beings who had infiltrated into the highest levels of the government and military. Who here was in reality, a Craing? Jason held two fingers up to his ear and turned slightly away from the group of men before him and quietly said, “Captain to Ricket.”

  “Go for Ricket,” the mechanical voice came back.

  “Ricket, I’d like to ask you a quick question,” he said turning away. “Would it be possible for you to detect if any of the men currently on board are actually Craing beings?”

  “Only with direct sensor contact, sir.”

  “In that case, please come on down to the mess hall. Captain out.”

  “I’d like to bring you all up to speed on the course of events that have brought us here. Much has happened in just a few short days,” Jason said, addressing the group.

  The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Brian Carter, shook his head—an exasperated expression on his face.

  “General Carter, you look distressed. Please feel free to speak your mind,” the captain said with patient forbearance.

  “This little meeting is totally inappropriate—sitting here with some kind of self-appointed emissary from who or what—who knows? The audacity to think you can barge your way into the Pentagon and have us sit here like little school children; frankly it’s insulting.” The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs swiveled his bald head around, back and forth several times, looking for support from the others.

  Secretary of Defense Walker raised a conciliatory hand towards his fellow staff member. “Brian, why don’t we just hear Captain Reynolds out? For God’s sake, we’re already here.” This brought several smiles from the others and temporarily mollified the general enough from making any more comments.

  “Thank you, Secretary Walker. I guess I’ll start at the beginning—” Jason described what had transpired over the preceding few days, including the discovery of the mechanical man, Ricket; the subsequent shooting of his daughter; the mad dash to The Lilly; and the multiple conversations with his father, Admiral Perry Reynolds. Certain technical and tactical information regarding the capabilities of the ship, was of course withheld from the visitors. Jason went on to describe the Craing light cruiser and the events that lead to the abduction of his ex-wife. Questions arose from the defense secretary and the six joint chiefs. They understood that Jason was an unwilling participant over the course of events. With the exception of General Carter they seemed more conciliatory toward his predicament and subsequent landing at the Pentagon.

  Secretary Walker raised his hand again for everyone to be quiet. “What is clear is the United States needs this technology. What’s required, Captain, is to bring you under the umbrella of the United States government and its military apparatus.”

  Jason smiled and slowly shook his head. “Sorry, Secretary Walker, but that would be the worst thing we could do. Lilly, please bring up an overhead view of our current location.” Jason turned and saw the display change to a high-up nighttime perspective showing The Lilly sitting in the Pentagon’s courtyard. “Right now the Chinese Ministry of State Security in Beijing, the Russian Federal Security Service in Moscow, the Inter-Services Intelligence agency in Pakistan, and a score of other international security agencies around the globe are all studying this same satellite image. Instability, even with our allies, is inevitable and has already begun. You’ll be in-fighting amongst yourselves as much as with the Craing.” Just then Ricket, still wearing his LA Dodgers baseball cap, entered the mess hall and stood to Jason’s left.

  “The sharing of technology will be the single most influential factor for the survival of Earth’s societies. To stay free from the Craing or even other interstellar adversarial influences, Earth's technology needs to advance rapidly.” Jason paused for a moment to look around the room before he continued on. “This planet needs to embrace space travel with the implementation of faster than light, or FTL, technology. This will open up new opportunities for commerce with other worlds. Unfortunately, warfare is as much a reality in space as it is here on Earth.”

  Ricket pointed toward the display while it simultaneously changed to a view of open space: an inky black background with twenty bright objects, within a diamond-shaped formation.

  “What are we looking at here, Ricket?” Jason asked, perplexed.

  “This view is of the Craing fleet en route to Earth,” Ricket replied succinctly. “Each of those four objects is a cluster of five hundred Craing vessels—a total of two thousand ships. Each five
hundred-ship cluster contains what is called a Battle Dreadnaught. It’s five miles long and five miles wide.” Ricket used a laser-type pointer. “If you’ll notice, this cluster of five hundred ships here, with its own Battle Dreadnaught, has broken off and is headed straight for the Sol system—us.”

  The officials began to talk amongst themselves. Eventually, Secretary Walker looked up. “What is the time frame?” he inquired, heavy concern on his face. Ricket looked up to the captain, then back to Walker.

  “They are no more than five days from Earth,” Ricket replied. The group of men looked back at Ricket with stunned expressions.

  “Excuse me, I’d like to introduce you to Ricket, our Science Officer who I mentioned earlier.” Ricket then proceeded over to the table and, one by one, introduced himself and shook the hands of each of the Joint Chief’s, and the Secretary of Defense. When he had completed shaking each of their hands, Ricket turned to Jason and pointed to General Peter Bickerdike of the Air Force, and nodded. Using his NanoCom, Jason hailed Billy.

  “Go for Billy,” the deep voice replied.

  With his comms, Jason said, “I need an armed detail on standby—but take no action just yet.”

  “Got it, we’ll hold for your go.”

  Jason took a breath and looked directly at the highest commanding officer in the room, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Carter. “Sir, I have the unpleasant duty to inform you that one of the men in this room is Craing. We need to know how you would like to proceed?”

  “What do you mean by that? One of us—the Joint Chiefs?” That’s not possible. Each one of us has been vetted—top-level security backgrounds—it’s simply not possible.” Worried, each of the men looked at one another. All except General Bickerdike, who never took his eyes off Ricket. The security detail standing closest to the door reached for the gun at his hip. At this movement the other two drew their weapons and stepped up to the table in-between the joint chiefs. Jason pressed back into his chair. He’d rarely been on the receiving end of this kind of situation and his hands twitched toward the gun at his waist. He did not drop the gaze of the man who had his gun pointed at his head.