Blood of the Scarecrow: Book 3: Solstice 31 Saga

by Martin Wilsey

  Then, it began.

  A nuclear bomb detonated in the center of Mexico City.

  Po, on the bridge alone, witnessed the shockwave, the fireball, the mushroom cloud rolling up as if it was chasing them. It happened in slow motion. The STU’s dome protected her from the ultimate brightness of the flash. In doing so, it revealed to her the full impact of the devastation. She watched, in horror, as the shockwave chased them, crushing everything in its path. As they sped toward the mountains, she knew that the homes they flew above would be on fire in a moment. Finally clearing the mountains, the fireball seemed like a sunset beyond them. She turned to look in the direction of their motion. It was illuminating the clouds. Made more horrible by its beauty.

  “Barcus, Mexico City is gone. Destroyed,” AI~STU said in his personal HUD.

  It was almost a whisper.

  ***

  Kreiger was in the med bay. As the scan began, it quickly determined he wore body armor under his clothes.

  “He has five broken ribs and a punctured lung,” Shaw said. “He was hit twice. Damn, that is good armor.” Barcus nodded and went up to the bridge.

  Krieger’s eyes fluttered open. “You must be from the Ventura,” he whispered.

  “How did you know? We changed all the ident codes. We are all running with cold HUDs.”

  “Even a cold HUD can be proximity scanned.”

  He winced. “Where’s Jack?”

  “I’m right here, sir.” Zimmerman stepped up.

  “Tell this thing to give me the battlefield load of nanites and other drugs,” Kreiger said. “We are in deep shit, and I haven’t got time to worry about injuries.”

  “Yes, sir,” Zimmerman replied.

  Dr. Shaw watched him enter a control code she had never seen before. Screens flashed by and the bay’s arms reacted with a rapid, almost violent, motion.

  Kreiger’s arms were dragged above his head and restrained cruelly. His blood was fill with drugs, nanites, and supplemental red blood cells. The autoDoc began slashing him open. Broken ribs were aligned and splinted with screws, far too quickly. Sprayed with specialized nanites and adhesives, he was closed up, far too quickly.

  When Shaw tried to step forward and slow the controls, she was stopped by Zimmerman with a blocking hand to her sternum.

  “That is all wrong. There will be scarring and lasting issues,” she said, pleading to Jack.

  “I know,” he said, in a tone she had never heard from him before.

  Kindness.

  “But he will be combat effective in five minutes. Soft tissue damage only. And these many nanites will fix that in no time.”

  “Why the flood of persistent nanites?” she asked, looking at the screen.

  “He expects more injuries.”

  ***

  “We’re returning to that salvage yard,” Po said, stoically, as Barcus sat in the seat to her right.

  “Thanks.”

  “This is the day that has been haunting you,” Po stated. It wasn’t a question.

  He turned and looked at her then. Her eyes were bright, alert and intense. Her forehead was creased. Her jaw muscles rippled as she returned his gaze. She was strong and fit and brilliant. His focus reduced to that moment. Her hair was wild, unable to be braided since she cut it off, in fury. She stared back.

  She was so alive. Right here, right now. Barcus wondered how this magnificent being was ever a weak, trembling, frightened, uncertain girl.

  “Why are you smiling?” she asked.

  AI~Stu interrupted.

  “Oklahoma Salvage ahead. Twenty seconds.”

  ***

  Dalton, chancellor of Earth, held his finger on the button for a moment longer than he needed. He was seated in his opulent leather chair, in his grand audience chamber, in his private residence, on his private island—called Calf—just south of the Isle of Man.

  The vision of the mushroom cloud, turning the M-city space catapult to dust, still danced on the screens of the room.

  His smile was wide.

  The images of that shuttle transport unit speeding away were just as Turkot foretold. Even the replaced ident codes were as he said they would be.

  He turned his eyes to the other screen.

  It was a satellite view of the Roosevelt Island spaceport in New York. That small catapult was for passenger traffic only. He smiled as he zoomed in on a spectacular building, just off the lower point of the island, just across the river on Manhattan.

  He waited for the next prediction to become true, as his canned statements went out regarding this heinous terror attack in M-City.

  ***

  They touched down in the salvage yard without a peep from the AI called Hunter. Everyone stood at the base of the ramp. Even the avatar of AI~Echo.

  Kreiger took immediate control. He wore a standard flight suit now. Everyone was surprised he addressed Echo first.

  “Echo, report,” he barked.

  “Sir, our mission to Baytirus failed in some ways and succeeded in others. Two Scarecrows were killed in nuclear blasts; one on the planet and one on the moon. The Scarecrow called Wex appears to have escaped in a ship called the Sedna, currently flying under ident the Grace. We seem to have the seed ship under our control, including all the vessels it contains.”

  Echo stepped closer.

  “Roland Barcus has control of the seed ship. All indicators point to the fact that he died on Baytirus but was resuscitated by the emergency application of L-Matter.”

  “And what about Atish and Chancellor Dalton’s genome project?”

  “We have three examples here.” She gestured to Po, Cine, and Jude. “With full scans and genome markers. Purpose built to follow.”

  “We follow no one. We are free,” Jude said, defiantly, in her light accent.

  Echo continued to talk about them as if they were not there.

  “They will obey, without question, any order or request. But only if given by the one they have imprinted upon.”

  Realization dawned on their faces, and the three looked at Barcus, standing in the cargo bay behind Kreiger as he spoke.

  “Any order,” Echo continued. “I have Dr. Bowen’s data that she was returning to Dalton. Tests indicated that they would do horrible things, if commanded—murder or rape, even suicide. Or they would allow themselves to be killed by torture.”

  “There’s more.” Dr. Shaw spoke, “They are also brilliant. Their IQs are high, and they have talent for intuitive skills, like flying ships, playing music, or adapting to zero-G. They are also very tough; they can survive injury, or long-time deprivation, and recover.”

  “Why is any of this important?” Worthington asked.

  Echo answered, “Because eighty-two of these people were brought to Earth earlier this year and began pilot training.”

  “Look, fancy general man,” Kuss began.

  “That’s Admiral,” Zimmerman interrupted.

  “So fucking what,” Kuss ranted. “What all this mean? What difference make us.”

  “The same man that destroyed the Ventura and as many as sixty other ships, to minimize political opposition, is going to have these eighty people that will do anything he tells them, fly ships into every colony planet at relativistic speed. All on the same day.”

  He was almost yelling now.

  “And I think today is that day.”

  Kuss quieted.

  “We also believe that the bastard has hidden nukes in all the major cities on Earth, Freedom Station, Luna, and Mars. I need to get to the United Council of Colonies in New York, tonight.”

  Kreiger was calmer now. “Right now. I must be there by dawn, to warn them.”

  “Sir, may I interrupt,” Stu said and, without waiting for acknowledgement, opened a giant screen in a HUD broadcast over the desert.

  PNN Special Report: Terrorists Destroy M-City.

  The broadcast had a talking head newswoman, trying to hide a smile as she talked about the mass destruction and loss of life.


  “This vessel is being sought in connection with the attack.”

  An image of the black STU fleeing just ahead of the destruction was then shown from various angles and distances.

  “He is going to want all the Ventura crew dead. All witnesses dead,” Kreiger said. “And your STU. Its AI knows too much.”

  “Everyone goes on the STU. Hudson, Zimmerman, and I will take the stealth drop ship to the Roosevelt Island spaceport and get to the UCoC.”

  “Take me to the Council,” AI~Ben said, into all the HUDs. “I am already backed up on the STU. Their analysts will verify everything from Bowen’s data.”

  There was a pause, no one spoke.

  Spontaneously, people began to move.

  Wes said to Kreiger, as they passed each other, “We will hold onto these three Warmarks, just in case.”

  Po watched Barcus this whole time. His stare was far away, and stress was etched onto his face. She went to him.

  “It’s true. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed, as if to control a physical pain, and said nothing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: Sri Lanka

  “Everyone remembers where they were on that day. I was on Freedom Station and never knew how close I came to death on that day.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: General Patricia Chase, senior member of the Earth Defense Coalition.

  <<<>>>

  “We sure picked a good time of year to visit Sri Lanka,” Karen Beary said, as she pulled another bottle of beer from the large bucket of ice.

  Beary, Cook, and Muir were all sitting on beach chairs they had discovered in the hangar office. They had a large crate for a low table with empty beer bottles and Delio’s pizza boxes.

  “The last time I was here, it was the rainy season. Hot and wet.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Cook said.

  “Shut up, Cook,” Beary said, smiling.

  They all laughed.

  Just then, the kid that was there when they arrived, pulled up in a small utility cart.

  “Hey, guy. Want a beer and some pizza? It is lunchtime,” Cook said, as he kicked over the top of the pizza box, revealing half an extra-large, all-meat, Delio’s pizza.

  The kid looked around and then, deciding, sat on a crate and grabbed a beer.

  “What’s your name kid? You look like shit,” Karen asked. “I thought you were going home right after we got in last night.”

  “My name’s Mike. I guess you didn’t hear what happened.”

  Mike paused, took a slice of pizza, folded it expertly, and took a huge bite.

  “There was a massive explosion in M-City last night. There is an official government blackout on it. Thousands are dead. Maybe tens of thousands. Most of the traffic to the M-City spaceport has been rerouted here. I been up all night.”

  The three of them all sat up and looked at each other. Mike continued noshing the pizza.

  “They are screaming on the nets about lack of inspections at the catapults, more weapons regulations, arms trade, and banning dangerous research.”

  He took another bite.

  “The chancellor isn’t helping, either. He keeps implying that it’s political terrorism. Christ, I hate people. I should just move to Freedom Station.”

  He stuffed the last of the slice in his mouth and sat back.

  “So now, what have they got you doing?” Karen asked.

  “Paying me double time to eat pizza and drink beer.”

  He raised his beer, in salute.

  “No, really.”

  Karen was serious now.

  “We have to rescan every damn ship. All on a day when the traffic is doubled already.”

  “What can we do to help?” Cook asked, he seemed sincere.

  “The pizza was the biggest help all day. Thanks.”

  He stood and drained his beer.

  “Just another quick scan and I’m outta here.”

  None of them stood up as they watched him walk back to his utility cart and open a case. The single drone that flew out was bigger and newer than the last time.

  It few into the Winton and out of sight.

  ***

  “Get off me. I am alright.”

  Rand was treating her own leg wound. It had passed all the way through. It missed the bone on the thigh as well as her arteries.

  Hume had taken a round to the center of her chest but the new armor helped. She was awake now.

  Freedom’s drone scanners arrived a few minutes later. The only cargo was a block of lead that was one point five meters on a side. There was also comms gear and internal sensors.

  “Jimbo, I think this is it,” AI~Station said so they all heard.

  “OK, so how do we defuse it,” Jimbo asked, looking at the simple locks on the container doors.

  “Fuck that,” Hume said, struggling to her feet. “Just jettison it.”

  “We don’t dare activate the foils,” Pete said.

  “Station, we need this out of here. ASAP.” Worthington asked, “Do you have any options?”

  “We could get it outside the station. But a tug would have to move it away,” AI~Station said, as a crane moved their way.

  “I have an idea…” Pete said.

  ***

  “Mike, have another beer while you’re waiting,” Cook said, as he raised another ice-cold beer.

  He came back over and took it, smiling.

  “This might take a little longer, this time,” Mike said, opening the beer. “Never saw a work order like this before.”

  “How so?” Cook asked, as Muir looked at Beary with concern creeping into his expression.

  “It has something to do with cataloging autoDocs on certain kinds of ships. Does the autoDoc work on this thing?”

  He looked up at the ship.

  “You have balls to fly this out of a salvage yard.”

  “Well, I don’t know. We just got the thing and have not started the refit,” Cook said, standing.

  Mike’s back was to the opening of the hangar. He could not see the two weaponized tactical drones, floating there, guns deployed, facing their way.

  Mike held his pad up when it chimed and took another big swig of beer.

  “Hmmm…looks like the autoDoc was salvaged from a different ship. Happens all the time. This one was reported missing a couple years ago on a ship called the Memphis.”

  ***

  The chancellor was surrounded by a massive console on his raised dais. He preferred a real screen. No HUD implants for him. Too invasive, too easy to track—or hack. He should know. He had teams that did it all the time.

  A notification blinked to life and expanded, automatically, in the center console. AI~Norman spoke.

  “Sir, I believe the Memphis has landed under false ident codes at the spaceport in Sri Lanka. I have eyes on it.”

  A display opened, showing the high-resolution view from the two drones. It was a pinnace-class ship but barely looked spaceworthy. Scans revealed that it was flying under the ident of the Winton.

  “What makes you think this is the Memphis, Norman?” Dalton asked.

  “This ship has an autoDoc designed specifically for pinnace-class ships because of limited space constraints. The serial number of this autoDoc is for the one installed in the Memphis, the pinnace that was aboard the Ventura.

  The drones zoomed in and focused on the faces of the people standing within the hangar. Face recognition activated and identified all three.

  Lt. Karen Beary, Navigator, assigned to the Ventura.

  Lt. Peter Muir, Communications Officer, assigned to the Ventura.

  Lt. Richard Cook, Pilot, assigned to the Ventura.

  “All three of these people were on the third shift command staff of the Ventura and would have been assigned to the Memphis.”

  The chancellor smiled wide as he reached for the button.

  ***

  Kreiger and Zimmerman were in the pilot’s seats on the Sari
ska, the drop ship from the Memphis. Echo’s avatar sat with Hudson in the first row of seats. Echo, being a military AI, could broadcast under the admiral’s personal flag, allowing for clearance to land on the south end of Roosevelt Island’s spaceport.

  Zimmerman and Kreiger changed to Black Badger officer uniforms they found in the drop ship lockers.

  “Hudson, you will stay here with Echo and the Warmarks,” Kreiger said, knowing her hip was not well-healed.

  “Jack and I are going to take Ben to the UCoC, on foot. It’s only across the bridge and two blocks away.”

  All of the Warmarks came alive at the same time. Their clamps retracted, and weapons began to power up with a low hum.

  “We will be standing by, sir,” Hudson said.

  “We can get from here to the UCoC in two hops. Thirty seconds. Can we keep an open channel?” Echo asked.

  “Affirmative,” Kreiger barked.

  “How’s the ribs, sir?” Jack asked, casually, as they each lifted one side of Ben’s AI enclosure.

  “Feels like I have been kicked by a pissed-off mule,” he replied, as the ramp lowered.

  ***

  “The ship has no beacon, no ident, and it looks like an emergency lifeboat. One consistent with the ones on the Memphis. It was stealth on the spaceport scanners,” AI~Norman detailed, as the drone’s POV descended to the back of the ship.

  The ramp was lowering. Two men waited. They held an active AI module between them.

  “Sir, those are Black Badger uniforms,” AI~Norman stated, flatly.

  “For fuck’s sake. That’s Krieger. I thought he was dead in M-City.”

  As they stepped off the apron of the ramp and walked away, there was a momentary clear view into the ship, revealing a dozen Warmarks, running systems checks.

  Dalton went white.

  “Sir, that second man is Officer Jack Zimmerman. He is on the list. He is supposed to be off-world.”

  “Sir, I believe it’s time. The UCoC, Kreiger, Zimmerman, and a crew standing by in Warmarks? The Memphis is in Sri Lanka. The risk is too high,” AI~Norman said. “And where is this STU with the man—Barcus. Turkot said he would come to see you; so sure of himself, he will be unarmed.”