Boomer (Star Watch Book 3)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “There’s nothing going on here, Cap,” Billy said, over the open channel.

  “Copy that,” Jason replied. He wondered what the hell was going on in here? Had the Blues forgotten about this level, or were they interrupted in some manner before it could be brought completely online? Leaving the compartment, he shelved his questions—for now.

  The foursome converged back at the central hub station.

  “Anything?” Jason asked the other three.

  “This hospital is not being utilized,” Traveler said, expressing the obvious.

  “There’s close to two hundred levels in total on this space station. Maybe they’re using an area somewhere else for their hospital,” Rizzo suggested, shrugging.

  Jason, communicating with Ricket via comms, didn’t bother acknowledging Rizzo’s remark. He studied his HUD, running a scan for Prince Aqeel’s life signature. “There he is … he’s there … down on Level 4.”

  Billy tilted his head and Jason nodded an unspoken confirmation. After years in space, boarding too many space stations to count, Jason found it typical for their lower levels to be used mainly for maintenance and other rudimentary functions. He called up the StarDome’s schematics and zoomed in on the lower levels. Sure enough, the maintenance and supply sections of the station were there. He found the area where the prince was located. “This shows he’s in the ship’s brig,” Jason said.

  “I don’t get it. He’s like Blues royalty, isn’t he? The last place you’d expect to find him would be the brig. Maybe we go spring him out of there?”

  Jason continued to stare at the diagram. As much as he liked Prince Aqeel, he was still somewhat reluctant to jeopardize interstellar relations by taking covert action against the Blues. That’s what diplomats were for. But Boomer was missing and he had a strong feeling the prince was tied into that … somehow. He selected their next phase-shift location and inputted its settings. “In for a penny … in for a pound. Here we go … be ready—I’m detecting quite a few life forms milling around down there.”

  * * *

  They found themselves standing at one end of a long, curved corridor. At this lower-level section within StarDome, the space station was at its most narrow. The setup here was different—not like a typical station brig arrangement. The phase-shift had brought them into the middle of what was obviously a large-scale prison system, where scores of active energy fields glowed a bright aqua-blue. Jason had configured their combat suits for stealth mode, which would conceal them no more than two minutes. After that, they would be fully visible.

  There were hundreds of prisoner cells there, each one occupied. Who were all these prisoners? But what got Jason to stand with his mouth agape were the ten or more guards visible from their present position. Several were uniformed Blues, but most were the far larger Sahhrain, also wearing uniforms. The Blues hated the Sahhrain—this didn’t make sense.

  “We’re down to a minute-thirty before we go visible, Cap,” Billy said.

  “Copy that,” Jason said, hurrying down the corridor and as quietly as possible sidestepping an approaching Sahhrain guard as he moved past him. Keeping an eye on the flashing life icon on his HUD, he kept going until he found the right cell—where the prince was being held. Behind the fluctuating energy field within the small eight-by-eight compartment was what remained of Prince Aahil Aqeel. Jason, uncertain, knew he would have to rely on the science behind his suit’s sensors to be fully positive of the man’s identity. The individual lying prone on the shelf-like bed was unrecognizable—nearly as blackened, with charcoal-crusted skin, as the dead body they’d earlier assumed to be Boomer’s.

  “Holy Christ … the guy must be in agony,” Rizzo said.

  Jason saw the body move and heard a muffled groan coming from the cell.

  “I will carry this dying prince,” Traveler said, in his commanding, deep baritone voice.

  “Thirty more seconds, Cap,” Billy said.

  “Thanks, Big Ben. You do know I have the same HUD mission-counter as you, right?”

  Knowing he would be faster inputting the shift settings than the rhino-warrior, Jason went ahead and phase-shifted Traveler to the other side of the energy field.

  All at once, Billy, Rizzo, and Jason stood visible, midway down the long corridor. It would take time for their suits to recharge sufficiently to have that limited cloaking function available. All three stayed still, hoping not to be noticed.

  Traveler was working on his second attempt to slip his hands gently beneath Prince Aqeel’s prone body when agonizing screams erupted again, even louder this time. Traveler, with puffs of snotty mist forming above his head, looked unsure how to proceed. Nervously, he turned back toward the other three.

  “Just pick him up!” Billy and Rizzo yelled over comms in unison.

  Jason’s attention was quickly drawn toward the guards—four Sahhrain and two Blues—who’d just registered their presence. Hands moved to the guards’ side arms and a klaxon began wailing from above. Jason was the first hit with a plasma bolt, mid-torso, and Rizzo and Billy were both struck too, a second later. Jason figured, with the advanced capabilities of their battle suits, it would take a lot more than what these six prison guards could dish out for them to be in serious trouble; unless, of course, additional guards appeared.

  A glance to his right confirmed to Jason that more prison guards were now approaching them from the opposite end of the corridor. He cursed inwardly. Two were carrying substantially larger plasma rifles. Almost at once, they too began firing.

  Immediately, Jason’s HUD warned him of possible suit failure. Rizzo turned and raised his own multi-gun, but Jason pushed its muzzle down. “We’re not starting a galactic war here, Rizzo. Damn it, Traveler … grab ahold of him. Now!”

  The prince’s unending writhing and screaming, the howling klaxon above them, and the barrage of incoming plasma fire caused Jason to reach the end of his patience. He no longer cared if Traveler had a hold on the prince, or not. They needed to go … to leave now. In a flash, he phase-shifted the lot of them back to the Stellar.

  Chapter 10

  Two weeks earlier …

  Screams continued to echo from those trapped in the stands high above them. The Blues had nowhere to run to, nowhere to escape. The gargantuan spacecraft hovered ominously overhead—firing off one thunderous plasma bolt after another. And with each strike, another thousand souls became enveloped in a fiery ball of hell. In a matter of seconds, any semblance of sanity in the stadium vanished—all that was left was total, complete, mayhem.

  Nearby on the arena floor, Drom and Carmotta were staring at her—both screaming something. Their voices were drowned out by the horrific cries, the noisy explosions, and the ever-present, low rumbling noise from the ship’s propulsion system.

  Carmotta reached Boomer first—taking her by the arms and spinning her around—forcing Boomer to look into her eyes. Only then did Boomer notice Carmotta’s injuries. Sections of flesh on both legs and arms were missing, from the massive bites she’d received earlier, when ravaged by Gamby fish. Like large piranha on steroids, the aquatic beasts had horribly disfigured her once beautiful body.

  Carmotta slapped Boomer across the face, bringing her attention back in focus. “Listen! Listen to me, Boomer! You must get the Goldwon. They’ve come for it. It’s everything to them. We can’t let that happen. Hey … are you listening to me?”

  Boomer shook her head. “Why? I don’t understand.”

  Now Drom was there too, standing next to Carmotta. Only then did she notice his torn flesh, like shredded ground-beef—claw marks running along one side of his back. Boomer’s eyes went wide—bile burned at the back of her throat. Feeling dizzy, she wanted to throw up: Too much was happening, all at once.

  Carmotta and Drom lowered themselves down to one knee and bowed their heads. Boomer stared down at them in confusion and screamed, “Get up! What are you doing? We need to go … to get out of here!”

  Then she heard their words—firs
t from Carmotta, “Drench,” then Drom, “Drench.” They had both surrendered to her. Why now? And why did that even matter?

  Drom staggered to his feet and pulled Boomer close into him, his lips by her ear: “Our injuries … too severe. It is up to you … only you. Get to the center tower and claim the Goldwon. Go! Are you listening to me?”

  Boomer nodded, still trying to comprehend what was happening around her.

  “We need to get off this planet! Get away from the Sahhrain!” He pushed Boomer toward the center of the arena, and mumbled, “Go!” then turned to help Carmotta to her feet.

  Another explosion brought down the remainder of the south end of the stadium. Over the rubble, and through the black smoke, Boomer could just make out incoming Sahhrain warriors. Seeming more like ancient Roman soldiers to her, with their metallic breastplates and bright colored capes, they were an army, preparing to conquer, and they were fast approaching.

  Boomer ran, then quickly staggered and fell. She looked up in time to see the charging Shintuco Cat—its huge mouth was open wide enough to envelop half her body. It leapt toward her, with bared, outstretched, claws. Boomer’s thoughts flashed to the sight of Drom’s back. It was all too much. I’m going to die.

  Three bright-violet distortion waves struck the cat simultaneously. It burst into a fireball, and what little remained of its smoldering corpse dropped lifelessly two feet from her. Boomer turned to see Carmotta and Drom, both pointing their enhancement shields toward the fallen cat.

  “Get up! Hurry now!” New excited yells reached her from the opposite direction. Boomer rose to her feet and saw Prince Aqeel, now running toward her from the far side of the arena. She noticed the shield on his forearm and realized he sent the third wave out to help bring down the big Shintuco Cat. She ran toward him, meeting him midway.

  Out of breath, he said, “Take this! Your suit device is inside. Everything is explained within this satchel.” He removed the strap from his shoulder and thrust the leather bag at her, pointing then to the center of the arena.

  Boomer took the bag and held up a palm. “I already know … get the Goldwon. But what about you?”

  “Go now!” He was already running toward the gaping opening at the south section of the stadium. Running also, Carmotta and Drom were soon by his side. They were going to fight the approaching Sahhrain warriors together. Three mortals against a hundred? For sure, theirs was a suicide-act in the making.

  Another two violent explosions erupted in the stands and their concussive blasts nearly toppled Boomer off her feet. She opened the flap of the satchel, rooting around in it until she caught the reflection of a small metallic device. She hadn’t seen it for two years, since she’d last handed it over to Prince Aqeel, when she first came to Harpaign to complete her training.

  With shaking fingers, and taking a deep, steadying breath, she slid the clip of the SuitPac up to the top waistband of her leggings, then depressed the two inset tabs. Within three seconds, the segmented combat suit enveloped her entire body. As if it were yesterday, she took in the readings on her helmet’s heads-up display. She heard Drom’s words repeat inside her head: Get to the center tower and claim the Goldwon. Go!

  Now sprinting, Boomer threw the satchel’s strap over her head and reaffixed the enhancement shield to her forearm. Why am I running? And again, it all came back to her. She spotted the top of the glossy black tower ahead and glints of light reflecting off the Goldwon. Mid-step—in a flash of white light—Boomer phase-shifted.

  One hundred and thirty feet up, Boomer instantly reappeared—her forward running momentum nearly carrying her over the side of the tower. She had to use her enhancement shield to halt herself mid-stride, before coming to an abrupt standstill. From her high-up vantage point she could see the true measure of devastation from the attack. With the exception of the north area of the stadium, which was relatively left undisturbed, all else was in total ruins.

  Boomer looked up toward the ship—one so tall even craning her neck up she could barely make out its top. She searched the outer perimeter of the stadium grounds. Where are you? There! She saw Drom and Carmotta—both wielding their enhancement shields and battling multiple Sahhrain warriors. A handful of Sahhrain lay dead, their bodies scattered around the field.

  Boomer scanned the nearby grounds for Prince Aqeel, and soon found him battling three, much larger, combatants. Also nearby the flowing white robes of the elders—the Council of One—could be seen. Several had fallen already, while others fought valiantly on against seemingly impossible odds.

  Looking down at her feet, Boomer saw the foot-and-a-half-tall Goldwon statue—unbelievably beautiful in the midst of such surrounding horror. She snatched it up with one hand and opened the flap of the satchel with the other, then tucked it safely inside. Drawing the strap tight, she repositioned the satchel over her back. With another glance out toward the ensuing battle, Boomer said to herself, “I’m coming … this is what I do best.”

  Chapter 11

  Boomer, on the verge of phase-shifting off the tower and directly into the battle below, had already entered the necessary phase-shift coordinates into her HUD when she felt a familiar sensation—a cross between a chill and something else—perhaps more akin to a magnetic pull. Whatever it was, over the years she’d learned to trust it. Not heeding it in the past had nearly cost her her life. What she knew in that present moment was that dark emotions were at work out there. Someone’s attention … somewhere … was on her—was consumed with her.

  She looked back over her shoulder and scanned the upper north stands—pretty much the only area of the stadium still intact. Standing alone in the stands, and wearing a long black robe, was one of the Tahli ministry members. His hood was up and dark shadows obscured much of his face. It occurred to Boomer that not even one of the Tahli ministry was seen fighting down below, engaging the Sahhrain warriors. As with the Council of One, all Tahli ministry members were highly trained in the ancient martial arts of Kahill Callan. Why are they not fighting alongside their brethren on the battlefield?

  Even as the robed Tahli ministry member turned away, she felt his lingering hatred—his unabashed ill-will toward her.

  * * *

  Suddenly, in a flash of white light, Boomer appeared next to Drom, who was managing to hold his own against four Sahhrain warriors. A concerned flash in his eyes told Boomer that he didn’t immediately recognize that it was indeed her—hidden as she was in some kind of advanced combat suit.

  She had made one quick detour before joining the battle. With Prince Aqeel’s near frantic concern for the Goldwon effigy, Boomer had found an appropriate hiding place to stow the satchel. A hiding place that, for the most part, guaranteed its safety until she, herself, could retrieve it later.

  With four rapid blasts from Boomer’s integrated wrist-mounted plasma guns, Drom’s four opponents fell lifelessly to the ground. “You can thank me later,” she said, without looking back. Her face immediately flushed and she cursed herself for saying something that sounded more like a sexual proposition than a casual remark.

  Thirty yards forward, Carmotta was not faring nearly as well as Drom. Driven down onto one knee, she was obviously struggling, now gasping for breath—no longer able to adequately fend off her opponent. Dissimilarly to the other warriors, this Sahhrain wore no cape and his breastplate was matte black. She then noticed a small but visible family crest embossed over his heart. Boomer recognized it as the royal Shakrim family moniker. She’d heard of it—he was next in line to rule. Zintar’s son, it seemed, was not much older than Boomer herself.

  The young Sahhrain’s advanced attack movements—his Jarta moves—were well practiced and he moved with a level of grace she’d observed in few others.

  To fight against the skill-level of this opponent, she’d need to retract her combat suit. Boomer knew from past experience it would only hinder her movements. Without a second thought, she entered the necessary HUD command and felt her suit retract back into the SuitPac d
evice clipped to her waistband. Never taking her eyes off the Sahhrain, she watched as he thrust his shield forward, firing off a burst of distortion waves at Carmotta, who deflected them—but barely. He swung one of his legs behind him, turning his body ninety degrees counter-clockwise, and used his shield’s edge, in a tilted, swiping motion, to propel his body upward, six feet into the air. Once there, he used the opposite edge on his shield to halt forward progression.

  Boomer fired—just barely missing her friend while distracting the Sahhrain from making a lethal strike. He elegantly dodged and deflected, moving sideways to safety, as if he’d known ahead of time precisely what she was going to do.

  “Get down, Carmotta!” Boomer yelled as she cartwheeled up and sideways.

  When the Sahhrain warrior flew into the air again, Boomer was already on the move and anticipating his next position.

  Boomer propelled herself forward in his direction while firing off distortion waves. She misjudged his movements and found him no longer before her. She’d made a catastrophic mistake. His speed was remarkable. Attempting to abruptly turn and face him, she saw him momentarily suspended in her peripheral vision. He quickly flipped his feet up and backwards—all the way over Carmotta’s head—landing gently behind her now totally exposed flank.