Boomer (Star Watch Book 3)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  No one had an answer. Rogna continued to fume.

  Rizzo entered the cabin from the direction of the bridge. “We’ll take off just as soon as we tell Leon and Hanna where we’re headed.”

  Boomer turned back around to see Drom holding the ancient scroll. As he studied it, he said, “I suggest we make a quick stop along the way. We need Captain Brith.”

  Mollie looked between Drom and Boomer questioningly.

  “He’s the only one who can read the ancient symbols.”

  “You should do what your sister suggested and destroy them. Destroy them now,” Rogna said again.

  All eyes turned to Boomer. It was a full minute before she answered. “No. We’re going to play this out. Win or lose … we’re going to play this out.”

  * * *

  Their next destination—their final destination—turned out to be in the opposite direction. One of Harpaign’s larger moons, Almand-CM5.

  En route, they returned to the Sahhrain gunship and retrieved Captain Brith. There was some debate on what to do with the other Sahhrain prisoners on board. In the end, they released them from the hold, disabled the ship’s drive, and set the small gunship adrift. Eventually, someone would respond to their distress call … or not.

  At this point, Boomer was under no illusion why Brith was so amiable about helping them. It was no secret his boss—Lord Zintar Shakrim—was after the same thing. By helping them, he would be helping Zintar. Captain Brith probably figured he was sending Boomer and her crewmates to their deaths—and perhaps he was right.

  Drom and Captain Brith caught Boomer coming out of the upper level DeckPort.

  “It’s not another obstacle course,” Drom said, looking pleased with himself.

  Boomer looked over to Brith: “What’s he talking about?”

  “I didn’t put it together before. The fourth won you’re looking for … it isn’t like the other three. It is the actual apparatus … the portal construct, I imagine, though it may look just like the three smaller versions. That’s what threw me. It’s a huge, giant-sized, won effigy. The three smaller versions are actually keys to its operation.”

  “So you’re saying we have everything we need to open Dasticon’s portal … his bridge between realms? No more obstacle courses?”

  “Hardly!” Captain Brith spat. “Your obstacles are far from behind you. Lord Zintar Shakrim holds one of those three and, I am sorry, but you will not defeat him in battle. My suggestion, give him the two you have and run. Hide, disappear in another sector and hope he never bothers to look for you.”

  Hanna rushed out from the bridge, looking frazzled. “Your father … he’s asking for you!”

  Boomer stared back at Hanna, stunned. Two years had passed since she’d directly spoken to him. Hanna gestured for her to follow her back into the bridge.

  She recognized the Parcical’s futuristic bridge, appearing on the hovering display in front of Leon, sitting at the helm. It was evident a battle was raging in space. She didn’t see her father on the display but did see other crewmembers scurrying around. Bright flashes, what could be plasma fire reflections, emanated from the bridge’s overhead wraparound display. Then her father stepped into view and did a double-take on seeing her. A crooked grin crossed his lips. “Boomer!”

  “Hi, Dad.”

  He stared at her for a long moment—taking her in. “Leon tells me you’re close by. You need to turn back. In fact, I want you to leave the Dacci system.”

  “What’s happening, Dad? Who are you fighting?”

  “War is what’s happening. And it’s bad. Even with the recent arrival of the U.S. and Blues’ fleets, we’ve lost many ships. Several Star Watch warships have been destroyed. Two others have been taken by the Sahhrain. It’s war, Boomer. Leave here, and don’t return to the Sol System, either.” There was pain in his eyes as he spoke those last words.

  “I can’t do that, Dad … you know that.”

  She watched as he ordered someone off-screen to ready the projectors—whatever that meant.

  “You’re with Mollie?”

  Boomer nodded.

  “I can’t lose the two of you. Don’t ask me to do that.”

  “It’s been two years and you have so little faith in me?” This time it was her turn to smile. “Dad, I’m going to bring this Rom Dasticon crap to an end … once and for all. But first I’m going to end Zintar.”

  “Oh … you are, huh? Confident are we about that?” He stared back at her, then shook his head. “Well, the truth is, if anyone can … maybe besides me … it would be you. I’d help you if I could, Boomer, but as you can see I have my hands full right now.”

  “I know, Dad. I’ll let you get back to it.”

  The feed faded.

  Leon turned in his seat. “We’re headed headlong into a raging space battle. Your Almand-CM5, it’s dab-smack in the middle of crazy—”

  Boomer held up a hand, stopping Leon mid-sentence. “I’m being hailed.”

  “By whom?” Hanna asked.

  “I think it’s Lord Zintar Shakrim.”

  Chapter 54

  “Captain?”

  Jason broke his gaze away from Boomer’s now-disconnected feed. “Yes, Ricket. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Ricket said, standing at his side. “But we’ll need to implement the projections directly from the MicroVault terminal.”

  “Fine. I’ll be right down.”

  Ricket left the bridge.

  “Cap,” Orion said, “I have the remainder of Star Watch—the Pisces, Leo, Aries, Virgo, Libra, Aquarius and the Parcical—on a rotating basis, phase-shifting in and out of battle. Currently, the Leo and the Aries are standing down, two light-years away, regenerating. All of them, including the Parcical, have taken on substantial damage.”

  She didn’t need to mention the three Star Watch fleet losses—the Scorpio, the Gemini, and the Taurus. The loss of thousands of men and women weighed heavily on his mind. “What’s the status of the captured ships … the Minian and Sagittarius?”

  “Up until now they have stayed pretty much out of the fight. I’m assuming the captured crew is not being very accommodating,” she said.

  “It’s only a matter of time before they figure things out enough to bring those highly lethal vessels into the fight. We can’t let that happen.”

  “No, sir.”

  For the tenth time in that many minutes, Jason studied the logistical display. The Sahhrain fleet had also taken devastating losses. Unfortunately, the Sahhrain came loaded for bear. So many warships—it would be impossible to destroy them all with their current assets. Both the Blues and the U.S. fleets, arriving late to the fight, already were taking devastating losses. The Vastma-class ships were on a whole different level than the old Craing light- and heavy-cruisers. And the Blues’ ships were practically useless in actual, real-life battle conditions, so Jason had ordered them back, letting what remained of Star Watch take the brunt of the continuing onslaught. How did this happen? And only a third of the Sahhrain fleet’s capacity was in use. He inwardly cursed his brother and the entire sneaky admiralty, sitting back safe and sound within Liberty Station. Fools … all of them fools.

  The Parcical shook and the bridge lights flickered.

  “Our turn is coming up. We need to phase-shift out within the next two minutes, Cap.”

  “You have the bridge, Gunny. I’ll be with Ricket and Bristol at the MicroVault terminal.

  * * *

  Jason entered the quasi-circular MicroVault terminal compartment. The virtual wraparound display showed the contents inside just one of many virtual storage vaults. Vast storage placed into high-capacity, almost unlimited, memory tabs. Entire ships were stored in there—plus every conceivable type of technology and living organism imaginable. Scientists at heart, the Caldurians were nothing but thorough when cataloging the galaxy.

  Bristol and Ricket turned, seeing Jason enter.

  Jason spoke first: “Whatever you send onto those ships, make
it lethal—the most lethal kind of sons-of-bitches in the universe.”

  “How about the second most lethal kind of sons-of-bitches in the universe?”

  Ricket clarified. “At some point, we’ll need to take those ships back, especially those captured Star Watch vessels.”

  Jason saw their point. “Show me what you have.”

  Bristol did something at the pedestal and the display zoomed into the vast, warehouse-like vault. The background, almost blindingly white compared to the row after row of miniaturized objects, began to take form as Bristol went first from faster-scanning, to slower-scanning, then to a complete stop. Jason didn’t quite know what it was he was seeing. He tilted his head and then grimaced.

  “Is that a …”

  “Mosquito?” Bristol said. “No … it’s actually only partially organic. It’s a bio-droid … an insectile cyborg … of sorts. Highly complex for its small size.” He held up a clenched fist. “About this size. One small prick from its labium—its snout—and it’s all over. Lights out! Organics bitten, like us or the Sahhrain, pretty much turn to slime in a matter of seconds. Very nasty fucker.”

  “And those are the second most lethal kind of sons-of-bitches in the universe?”

  Bristol zoomed out, then zoomed over to another section of the vault.

  “That doesn’t look so bad. It’s kinda cute, actually,” Jason said. Pinkish in color, to him it looked like a friendly-faced, floppy-eared bat, which seemed appropriate … it chasing after mosquitos.

  “No, Captain, this is another bio droid. Once programmed, it seeks out targets, its prey. It has a 99.97% success rate. It never gives up,” Ricket said.

  “And you have enough … of both?”

  “No. Not even close to infiltrate all of the enemy warships. But the good news is, I have already started to replicate both droids within the onboard phase synthesizer.”

  Bristol said, “Even with the ability to replicate them, which takes quite a bit of time, we’ll have enough for twenty of those Vastma-class ships as well as our own captured vessels. We’re hoping it will scare the rest of them off … until we can deal with them later.”

  Jason thought about that and saw good logic. Plus, there were very few other options. Again, the display changed. Three large Vastma-class ships filled the display, each firing off plasma fire from multiple guns. A U.S., once Craing, dreadnaught began to tear apart—then violently exploded.

  Jason gasped. “What do you say we start with those three Sahhrain vessels,” Jason said.

  Jason heard the familiar sound of the MicroVault terminal projector spinning up. Crosshairs locked on to the first of the three ships, followed by a quick flashing and clicking sound. The crosshairs then moved to the next ship, and then the next, with resonating clicks for both following after.

  Ricket turned to Jason. “Captain, at this time, there are over one thousand swarm-droids on board each of those vessels. I imagine they are already attacking the crew … anything alive is running for its life.”

  Jason nodded. “What about combat suits?”

  Bristol said, “Someone would be safe in a suit, though I don’t think too many Sahhrain warriors are running around in combat suits.”

  Jason thought about that and hoped he was right. He watched the three Vastma-class warships. One ceased firing its plasma guns. A good sign.

  Chapter 55

  Boomer sat quietly within the confines of one of the Stellar’s guest suites on Deck Two. The overhead lighting had been sufficiently dimmed, and she, deep within a baskile meditative state, was unconcerned with the small vessel’s rocking and the commotion on the upper deck. What lay before her now was what the last two years of training were all about. Perhaps she was born for the upcoming challenges ahead. If she took the ancient writings at their face value, then that was exactly why she’d been born. Not as a savior—her role wasn’t depicted that way—but more like a causal effect—an act of nature. Like a storm or a tornado, an unpredictable occurrence, which could be seen coming, although the actual extent of the effects—the damage—was indeterminate.

  She brought herself out of her deeply relaxed state and opened her eyes. She was ready. She thought back to her brief conversation with Lord Shakrim. His deep, heavily accented voice was not what she’d expected to hear. He sounded so … what? Normal. He’d asked her if she’d sustained any long-lasting injuries from her experiences with the obstacle courses, actually sounding concerned.

  “I commend you for following the dictums of the Dacci writings: That you personally chose to physically challenge those obstacles. It says much about you as a person. The gateway to distant realms must be opened, young human. It has been foreseen.”

  “I agree,” Boomer said.

  There was a hesitation. Zintar must not have anticipated her reply. “Then we no longer are warrior enemies?”

  Boomer continued, “Rom Dasticon … he cannot be allowed to enter this realm.”

  “No … that too we agree on … We will defeat him together.”

  This time it was Boomer who was taken aback. “Do not take me for a fool, Lord Shakrim. You and I will never be on the same side.”

  “In the end … no, we will not. You must answer for the great injustices you and your kind have perpetrated against the Sahhrain … against me.”

  “Look, your brother, Vikor … he started this war. No one went looking for him,” Boomer said.

  “He did what was expected of him; what had been chronicled thousands of years ago to occur. I too am bound by my Dacci heritage. My brother was indeed a crude … insensitive individual, but he was my brother. I am bound by law and personal pride to avenge his killing. I am honored that my opponent, as small and insignificant as you are, is a master Tahli warrior, in the ancient Dacci martial arts of Kahill Callan. That honors me … it honors the Sahhrain.”

  “I’m not here to honor you, nor your murderous people, after what you’ve done to the Blues. And for what you are now doing in space to my people. I will end you … and the Sahhrain will be stopped … for good.”

  “No, young Tahli warrior … the war that rages will continue on. With or without me, the war will continue so the Sahhrain can take their rightful place within the galaxy … within the universe. The outcome of the battle between you and me … that is separate. That is personal.”

  “And Rom Dasticon?” Boomer asked.

  “My hope is for us to put our inevitable conflict aside; that you will join me in defeating that one true scourge. Understand, Dasticon has one intent only … to bring darkness and to smother the light … to bring misery and suffering to all reaches of the universe, to all realms of existence.”

  “I suspect your own aspirations are not so different,” Boomer said.

  “Do not mistake a rightful and just ruler with what Rom Dasticon offers.”

  “I’m not under any illusions where Dasticon’s got to go. But, in the end, you’re going with him.”

  Her words made the Sahhrain leader laugh uproariously. Eventually, he coughed and cleared his throat, saying, “I do admire your spirit, little human. Now, let me tell you where the final won is located. Massive amounts of Glist make finding it with sensors impossible.”

  * * *

  The Stellar dropped out of low orbit around Almand-CM5. Considered a moon of Harpaign, it was only somewhat smaller than its mother planet. Boomer had heard stories that Almand was always storming—that thunder and lightning struck non-stop and the sun’s rays almost never penetrated through the moon’s thick dark cloud layer. Where Harpaign’s landscape was devoid of plant life—due to brutal, unrelenting sunshine—Almand-CM5 exhibited an equally lifeless landscape, but for just the opposite reason—minimal sunshine if any.

  Leon was at the Helm and Hanna at her Tactical panel position. Boomer, Mollie, Drom, Rizzo, and even Rogna stood shoulder to shoulder, staring out the forward observation window, inside the cramped luxury space yacht’s bridge. The ship descended downward, toward jagged black mountain ra
nges, and maneuvered between angry-looking peaks into an ominous-looking valley.

  “There!” Rogna said, pointing off to the left.

  Boomer followed the direction of her finger and saw something metallic, reflecting in the near non-existent daylight. The Stellar banked, maneuvered around two tall peaks, before straightening out and heading for what could be seen as a structure of some kind.

  “Ouch!” Rogna shouted—pushing Rizzo backward with both hands. “That’s my toe, Calhoom.”

  “Oh … sorry,” Rizzo said.

  Now, closer to the structure, it became evident what they were seeing. They had to be nearly upon it to differentiate it from the surrounding craggy peaks—but, sure enough, it was unmistakable. Supported on a round, metallic base—stood a won effigy, hundreds of feet tall. If it weren’t for a rare beam of sunlight, emanating from a break in the clouds, the effigy would have appeared just like the other rocky spires surrounding it.

  Similar to the two small versions, even though this won effigy was immense, it too had a half angel, half beast appearance. The chiseled face showed its Dacci heritage, and long dreadlocks billowed over slim, feminine shoulders and down the tall effigy’s back. Like the two others, the wings weren’t extended, but nestled in close to the body, though still high enough to see the wing tips above the figure’s head. Boomer wondered if the effigy was a heavenly symbol, like biblical angels on earth, or if there really were, once upon a time, beings that resembled this statue living within Dacci space.

  “It has the same type of symbol,” Rogna said, pointing.

  Sure enough, etched along the forward face of the base was a unique, although similar, geometric symbol. Boomer was certain it would correspond to the name Palwon.

  Leon piloted the craft around the far side of the statue and found, hidden between two tall rocky ridges, a valley wide enough to land into. “Looks like we’re not the first ones to arrive,” Leon said.