Boomer (Star Watch Book 3)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “She’s here because she was selected to be here,” a low voice muttered, coming from the second Blues beside her.

  Boomer took in the plain-looking female Tahli warrior now standing next to Rogna. She exuded an aggressive, masculine energy and seemed to have an apparent chip on her shoulder.

  “And who are you?” Boomer asked.

  “I’m Bren,” she answered, with an incredulous expression, like Boomer should already know who she was.

  The five Tahli warriors stared at Boomer. Self-conscious, she asked, “What?”

  “What do you mean what?” Drom questioned, perplexed.

  “Why is everyone standing around looking at me? There’s more Sahhrain—”

  Cutting her off and impatient, Bren said, “Either lead us, or someone else needs to take over!”

  Boomer turned to Drom. “You are the Goldwon, Boomer. Not to mention, you have years of real-life battle experience. We do not,” Drom said. “Didn’t you know that this was your expedition? You are our leader … so you better start leading.”

  “Um … we have company,” Gain said, pointing.

  Ten Sahhrain warriors were quickly funneling out from the alongside gunship and crossing onto the barge’s top deck. Each one was equipped with an enhancement shield. Several held pratta-shafts.

  As if an internal switch had turned on, Boomer took in their situation and immediately said, “Tam and Gain … move to the starboard side and come back around from the stern. You’ll be the rear flank. Drom and Bren—head to mid-ship; you’ll also come at them from the starboard side. Rogna, you’re with me. We’ll go welcome our guests, head on. Go!”

  One thing Boomer knew for sure—Carmotta would want her to watch over her sister, although she would not have wanted her to be here in the first place. Rogna wasn’t nearly ready to engage in battle yet.

  The Sahhrain warriors, now on board, were fanning out. Boomer and Rogna were the first to reach them. Over her shoulder, Boomer asked, “You know how to use that enhancement shield?”

  “Of course, I do!”

  “Then start using it!”

  Both dove to the deck as white-hot distortion waves filled the air. Boomer scooted in behind a three-foot-tall air vent, while Rogna continued to roll left as distortion waves tore up the decking around her. Four of the ten warriors had remained with them and all four were going after Rogna.

  Boomer leapt high in the air—spun around—and, with a sideways swiping motion, let loose with her own barrage of energy waves. Three of the combatants were hit low, their legs knocked out from under them, and they fell to the deck like bowling pins. The lone standing Sahhrain fired back in Boomer’s direction. She easily parried the distortion waves when she landed, and, just as quickly, cartwheeled in behind him. She next spun one hundred and eighty degrees, hitting him broadside in the face with her enhancement shield. He fell to the deck like a sack of bricks.

  Suddenly, Drom was at her side and punching off quick consecutive waves at the three downed warriors who were attempting to rise to their feet. They all went down and this time they stayed down.

  Battle sounds could be heard toward the barge’s stern and Drom headed away. Boomer rushed over to where Rogna was sitting, her back placed against a low, inside wall of the hull. There were black scorch patches on one of her shoulders.

  “How were you hit?” she asked, crouching down next to her.

  Rogna, wide-eyed, smiled, shaking her head. “You moved like … like you knew where they were going to shoot … even before they knew!”

  Boomer pulled open the top of Rogna’s Tammy Wrap and saw that the flesh on her upper shoulder was red. A few heat blisters had already formed there. Relieved she was okay, Boomer said, “Fix your clothes … we’re not done yet.”

  Chapter 22

  Boomer and Rogna reached mid-ship where two Sahhrain warriors lay dead on the deck, the work of Drom and Bren. Boomer caught sight of Bren up ahead, running toward the stern of the barge.

  “Come on, Rogna,” Boomer urged, also heading aft.

  They arrived at the stern—the widest section of the barge—to find Drom and Gain finishing off the last two Sahhrain warriors. Boomer already knew Drom was exceptional in the combatant arts of Kahill Callan, but it was clearly evident, by his swiftness and sheer creativity, that Gain was no slouch either. Drom and Gain worked well together and seemed to play off each other’s strengths—completely overwhelming their inferiorly trained opponents. The second Sahhrain also fell.

  Then Boomer noticed Tam, lying on the deck off to the right. Gain rushed to his side and placed an open palm on the young Blues’ chest. He lowered his head as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. It was a sobering reminder that they were all quite young—only big kids.

  “And six becomes five,” Drom whispered, standing now at her side—loud enough for only Boomer to hear his words.

  Gain looked up and found Boomer’s eyes. “We can’t leave him … not like this. I should take him home.”

  Two Bassilion traders, heads bowed—their tails low and immobile—joined Gain’s side. Empathetic hands reached out to him and one of the traders pulled him into an embrace. The other Bassilion attended to Tam, folding the young Blues’ arms across his chest. He carefully slid his arms beneath the still body and lifted him up.

  Boomer said, “Let them attend to him, Gain. They’ll take good care of him.”

  Gain stared after them looking lost and devastated. “They were closer than brothers … we all were,” Drom said.

  Boomer nodded, then turned around.

  “Where are you going?” Drom asked her.

  “I suspect there are more Sahhrain on board the gunship.” Now heading forward, she continued, “So we should keep moving.”

  Boomer, along with Drom, Bren, Rogna, and a reluctant Gain, moved swiftly. At mid-ship, Boomer approached the Sahhrain gunship, still moored alongside their barge. Its hatch, now closed, made access inside impossible.

  Bren said, “Closed up tighter than a glatcha’s sna—”

  “Hey!” Drom cut her off. “Can we watch our language here?” He glared at Bren.

  Boomer smiled. “If you’re trying to protect my innocent little ears, don’t bother, Drom. I’ve grown up around foul-mouthed sailors my entire life.” She looked over to Bren, and said, “And it’s not sealed up tighter than a glatcha’s snatch. Whatever a glatcha is … I’ve got ways of getting inside. Hold tight, everyone. I’ll be right back.”

  They watched as Boomer initiated her combat suit, and then, in a white flash, phase-shifted away.

  * * *

  Boomer had a fairly clear indication of the gunship’s layout from her HUD’s sensor readings already. Now, standing within a circular compartment, not more than ten feet from her fellow Tahli warriors outside, she figured she was inside a dual-purpose airlock and armory. Five vertically mounted pratta-shafts lined the bulkhead on one side, and five enhancement shields were also mounted, across the compartment, on the opposite bulkhead. There were about fifteen or so empty spaces—weapons obviously removed by the now-dead warriors, their bodies still on board the barge. Directly behind her was the secured outer hull hatch, and to its right, a light was glowing green, with a series of touch pads affixed beside it. Her HUD translated the symbols for her. She depressed the appropriate pad and the light changed over to red—the hatchway slid up and opened.

  Boomer signaled for the team of Tahli warriors to come aboard.

  “So how do we get a suit like that?” Bren asked, looking more than a little impressed.

  “You get accepted into the U.S. fleet,” Drom said.

  “Actually, only Star Watch offers this level of technology. And getting accepted into Star Watch is no easy feat,” Boomer added.

  “How many more are there aboard?” Drom asked.

  “I’m picking up another …” An overhead klaxon alarm interrupted her mid-sentence. She raised her voice, “Another eight crewmembers.”

  “What do we do with the
m?” Rogna asked, as Boomer and Drom exchanged glances.

  “I’m sure there is a small hold somewhere on this ship. By the looks of things, they’re not armed. If they don’t put up too much of a fight, we’ll secure them right here.” Boomer turned, closing the outer hatch.

  “I think we should let them take a walk into deep outer space,” Gain said.

  Boomer approached the inside hatch—located on the opposite bulkhead—and depressed the appropriate pad, watching as the hatch slid open.

  “Rogna … you’re with me. We need to secure the bridge. The rest of you, clear the ship. Put any remaining crew you find into a locked hold.”

  Boomer headed forward, with Rogna close behind.

  “You’re babysitting me, aren’t you?”

  Boomer glanced back at Rogna, but didn’t answer.

  “I’m not completely incompetent, you know. The others are going to think less of me.”

  Boomer slowed as she approached what looked to be the ship’s mess. Several tables were strewn with trays, holding plates of half-eaten meals, that gave the impression that discipline among the ranks was quite lax. Boomer gestured for Rogna to stay close.

  A Sahhrain, wearing an apron of sorts, came out from an adjoining kitchen, his hands held high.

  “Who else is here with you?” Boomer asked, her enhancement shield held up, facing him.

  “Just me. Look … I’m only the ship’s cook.”

  Boomer, scanning her HUD readings, confirmed he was telling the truth. She looked back to Rogna. “Find something to tie his hands behind his back, then take him to Drom and the others. Can you handle that?”

  Rogna gave Boomer an impatient scowl and moved off toward the kitchen. Boomer looked at the cook. “Give her a hard time and I’ll come back and flambé your ass.”

  He looked momentarily confused, and then, comprehending, nodded.

  Boomer hurried from the mess and down a passageway lined with secured hatchways. Since no life-form readings showed in this part of the ship she kept moving on, eventually locating a wide, mechanical system—a cross between an escalator and an open elevator or lift. It took her a moment to figure out the controls and when it started moving, she hopped on the rising platform. Knowing there were four decks on the ship, she stepped off at the next level. According to her HUD readings the bridge, such as it was, was on this level, not more than twenty feet forward. There were no access controls at this hatch. Again checking her HUD, she saw there were three crewmembers behind the closed hatch. She phase-shifted into the bridge, taking the three Sahhrain crew by complete surprise.

  They were standing close together—seemed she’d caught them in the middle of a raging argument. Yelling continued between them until her presence was noticed, and they became silent, more than a little shocked.

  Boomer quickly took in her surroundings. The bridge was compact, holding five stations and seven open seats. “Who is the captain or commander of this vessel?” she asked, already knowing the answer as she took in their uniforms. None wore the typical Sahhrain warrior garb—metallic breastplate and colorful cape. The three were very practically dressed, in overall-type apparel; the one in the middle had several silver-angled stripes running across the upper part of his shoulder. A fancy touch, she thought.

  “You there—what is your name?” she asked.

  “I am the captain of this vessel.”

  “I know that; what’s your name?”

  “Brith. Captain Brith.”

  “I’m taking over your ship, Captain Brith. Please open the hatch.”

  “No.”

  “You do understand that I could just as easily have killed you,” Boomer said.

  Captain Brith shrugged, keeping his gaze steadily on her. But another’s eyes—the one on his right—flicked to something behind her. By the time she checked her HUD it was too late.

  Chapter 23

  The droid was already moving toward her before she had a chance to react. Three consecutive plasma bolts aimed at her head drove her backward, in between the officers standing on the bridge, and into the opposite bulkhead. Her combat suit saved her life. It was the second time she’d witnessed a type of advanced technology the Sahhrain should not have had access to. First, it was Lord Zintar Shakrim, wearing a retractable combat suit, back on Harpaign, and now a hover-droid—looking remarkably similar to her own droid Dewdrop. Were the Sahhrain being supplied with Caldurian tech?

  Boomer thrust her arms out straight and, using her integrated wrist guns, fired back toward the droid. One of the bridge officers was caught in the crossfire and immediately dropped where he stood. The other two dove away, finding no place to hide within the cramped confines of the bridge. Unable to get to her feet, Boomer took four more direct hits to her abdomen. Her HUD lit up and she saw:

  WARNING – EXTERNAL SHIELDS DOWN TO 8%

  Beyond doubt, she knew another blast like the last ones and she’d literally be toast. Boomer used her enhancement shield to propel herself up and away from the attacking droid. By pure chance, she landed behind the now-crouching Captain Brith, and the droid ceased firing. A fleeting smile reached Boomer’s lips. Of course … thing’s been coded not to fire on the crew. She attempted to haul the captain onto his feet, while staying hidden behind him.

  “Get up!” She pushed her arm out from beneath the captain’s armpit and fired continuously. The droid dodged left then right—moving remarkably fast. It was attempting to get a better angle on her, but her combat suit’s firepower soon became too much for it and it went silent.

  Black blast marks now covered most of the droid’s exterior. It continued to drift about—aimlessly hovering and bumping off whatever it came into contact with. Boomer, on guard and ready to fire should it become necessary, moved in behind the droid’s rear side where she found the tiny access panel, located in the exact same position as the one on Dewdrop. She lowered the panel door and peered inside. The good news—it didn’t possess the latest technology. The bad news—Caldurian tech was definitely used, but significantly older than what she was accustomed to seeing. She turned the droid’s power source completely off and stood back as it crashed down hard onto the deck.

  “Captain Brith, where did you get that droid?” she asked, just as a loud pounding came from the other side of the hatch. Boomer stared at the other officer: “Well, open it!”

  The Sahhrain officer looked over to the captain for some sign of capitulation.

  “Don’t look at him … he’s no longer in charge. Open it. I won’t ask you again.”

  The officer moved across to one of the stations and tapped a touch pad and the hatch slid up. Both Drom and Bren stood there—Bren looking apprehensive and Drom looking relieved to find Boomer unhurt. The front of his Tammy Wrap was badly ripped, exposing his chest. Boomer temporarily froze at the sight of his heaving, muscular body.

  Behind her visor, Boomer’s face flushed pink with embarrassment; she only hoped Drom hadn’t noticed. Fighting Sahhrain warriors or crazed droids was fully within her wheelhouse—but dealing with her feelings—strange new urges—well, that was another matter entirely.

  She spun about and scowled toward the captain, repeating her question. “Where did you get that damn droid?”

  “It’s new. Delivered right before we left … left our system. One was delivered to each Sahhrain gunship. It was supposed to be virtually invincible.”

  “Who’s supplying the droids? Should you lie to me, I’ll know.”

  “The Blues. They come from the Blues. The Sahhrain have received thousands of them.”

  “That’s impossible! How would they—”

  Captain Brith raised his hands in mock surrender. “The Blues. They get them from someone in the Sol System … one of your own kind.”

  “A human?”

  “Yes. I think he’s been trading with the Blues for several years now, but that’s all I know.”

  Boomer turned her attention back to Drom. “The ship?”

  “Cleared. Fiv
e crewmembers are secured within a hold. We should go; get underway on the barge before another gunship arrives,” Drom said.

  “We’re not returning to the barge,” Boomer responded. “As it is, we’ve already brought undue attention to our Bassilion trader friends.”

  Drom appeared confused as he looked around the small bridge. “How …?”

  “If necessary, I can pilot this vessel … I think. But Captain Brith here, along with his first mate, will be seated at the helm.” Boomer looked directly at Brith. “Unless he’d prefer I end his life right here and now.”

  Brith glanced down at the disabled droid on the deck. “I’ll do as you say. All I ask is that you spare my crew … and us.”

  “One more thing, Captain. You need to make this vessel invisible to your fleet. Cut off contact—shut down all connections you have with the Sahhrain.”

  He nodded his agreement.

  “You still have that map handy?” Boomer asked Drom.

  “Yes, but showing it to him … that’s a bad idea.”

  “We’re out of time, Drom. Without this ship’s speed, and help from the captain here, we’re running blind.”

  “You trust him?”

  “God no, not at all. But my suit has highly advanced sensors—I can tell when he’s lying. He’s already indicated he’s in favor of keeping both himself and his crew alive.” She turned toward the captain. “Lie to me … even once, and you’re finished. You do understand that?”

  The captain nodded. “Show me your map.”

  Drom pulled the scroll from the folds of his Tammy Wrap, then spread it out on the forward panel. “It’s written in ancient Dacci—”

  “I can read it. Sahhrain are taught Old Dacci in grade school.” He studied the confusing array of intricate symbols. Nodding, he took in a deep breath and looked at Boomer.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “As your Blues friend over there stated, it shows four different locations. Separated here, here, here, and here. I recognize them—they are all located within the Dacci system.”