Scrapyard Ship 4 Realms of Time

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Jason hadn’t thought it possible, but the night sounds were louder than those of daytime. The campsite was filled with smoke, making it a necessity for them to keep their helmet visors closed. RCMs, Retractable Camp Modules, were clustered close together in the middle of the clearing. A central, larger campfire was now roaring and billowing smoke high into the air. Their seating consisted of a six-foot-long log, several boulders, and a large dinosaur skull. Ricket and Rizzo began talking animatedly between themselves, and Billy left to scout for more firewood.

  Jason, standing to the side, watched the rhinos as they handled the meat. Like a ritual, the preparation of the meal was as important to them as the kill itself. The four rhinos talked, probably telling old stories, or recounting today’s events. Although Jason couldn’t hear what they were saying, their deep voices, more like murmurs, carried nicely across the campsite. It was relaxing and gave Jason time to let his mind wonder. He missed Mollie more than ever before. He wondered what she was doing this very minute and then remembered she had just celebrated her ninth birthday. With a heavy heart and a feeling of some guilt, Jason vowed to himself he’d someday make his absence up to her. But clear sudden insight told him Mollie wouldn’t trade her life with anyone. The adventures she’d lived through the past year were one of a kind. Like her father, and her grandfather before him, she would probably find herself seeking out adrenalin-pumping situations the rest of her life.

  Jason got up—he needed to move around and their encircling campfire would need refueling throughout the night. He strode off in the opposite direction and leapt over the fire’s border into the darkness beyond. He reached down and picked up a thick branch, then gathered up two similar ones. Soon, both arms were filled. His stack rose to eye level.

  Making the jump back over the fire was trickier with his arms full. He doled out his fresh stack of wood every twenty feet or so around the perimeter of the camp.

  Jason returned to the same boulder he’d sat on before. Two rhinos were seated across from him, and two SEALs sat to his left. Platters of meat were handed out, and Jason accepted one from Traveler.

  “Enjoy, my friend. The meat is tender and full of the rich taste of this wild place.”

  Jason accepted the platter of thickly sliced meat and placed it on his lap. Using his HUD controls, he raised his helmet’s visor and took in the meat’s rich aroma. No one used forks, or any other kind of utensil; for some reason, using one was an insult to the rhinos, who’d prepared the meal. Jason picked up one of the smaller cuts of meat, smelled its unique gaminess, and took a bite. Indeed, it was tender and had a strong woodsy flavor—which may have come from the smoke of the burning sequoias.

  “Hey, Cap,” Rizzo queried, taking the boulder to Jason’s right and pointing to his plate, “How’s the Nanuqsaurus?”

  “Um, I’m not sure. The word strong comes to mind. Like venison, it’s probably an acquired taste. So tell me, Rizzo: how on earth do you know so much about dinosaurs?”

  “I’ve always loved anything to do with history, archeology, dinosaurs. I wanted to be a paleontologist … you know, study dinosaur artifacts for a living. I come from a pretty poor family; I joined the Navy as soon as I turned eighteen. After my stint I went to college for four years.”

  “How old are you, Rizzo?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “And what brought you back into full service, in becoming a SEAL?”

  Rizzo held up a hand while he finished chewing a large bite. “You’re right, this meat tastes kinda funny. I actually went back in the Navy when my brother got killed in Afghanistan. I don’t know—guess I felt I needed to go one more round.”

  Billy sat down with a fresh cigar occupying a corner of his mouth. A platter of meat was placed on his lap by the rhino called Few Words. Billy nodded at the rhino and placed his cigar on a small rock next to his foot. After tearing off a chunk of meat with his teeth and chewing on it for several seconds, he spit the wad into the fire.

  “This shit tastes like ass. Dinosaur ass.”

  Several of the rhinos glanced over at Billy, but apparently used to his peculiar sense of humor, they ignored him. Jason and Rizzo, on the other hand, thought his comment funny and had a hard time stifling their laughter.

  Jason didn’t immediately notice Dira and Petty Officer Myers had taken seats on the other side of the fire. Both had their visors up and were talking normally.

  “Can you believe that sky, Cap?” Rizzo asked, looking up to the star-filled heavens.

  Jason, and those sitting around the fire—including the rhinos—looked up. The stars were as bright as he’d ever seen them. Spectacular.

  “Don’t move. Nobody make any quick movements.” The voice was Ricket’s, and it was coming from behind Jason.

  Taking his warning seriously, Jason lowered his visor. “What do you have, Ricket?”

  “They look like birds, Captain. Carnivorous birds,” Ricket replied.

  Slowly, Jason turned around and faced Ricket, and the smallish creatures behind him.

  “Acheroraptors,” Rizzo said quietly.

  “What the hell are they?” Billy asked, eyes wide and unblinking.

  “Yeah, definitely, no one move,” Rizzo said. “This species has only recently been discovered. Not Velociraptors; they died out long before this time period. These are Acheroraptors. Definitely not birds. They’re highly intelligent little killers that hunt in packs. Probably think strategically, too.”

  Dozens of three-foot-tall, feathered birdlike lizards were moving in around Ricket; their snouts were long and snapping jaws revealed sharp, pointed teeth. There was a growling clattering noise as they surrounded Ricket.

  “I don’t know … those things really give me the creeps,” Billy muttered.

  Jason saw movement out of the corner of his eye and moved his hand closer to the butt of his sidearm. It was Few Words. The big rhino held fists-full of meat in his hands. Fearlessly, he strode into the throng of small carnivores and began flinging pieces of meat onto the ground. The raptors quickly went into a feeding frenzy. As Few Words continued to walk to the edge of the campsite, the raptors followed.

  Few Words turned toward the stunned onlookers. “This would be a good time to stoke the smoldering fires.” With several pieces of meat left in his large hands, he continued walking out into the darkness.

  Jason was the first to his feet and running toward the dying fires. The others joined him and began throwing more wood on the fire that had been reduced to glowing embers. The ground shook as Few Words leapt back over the fire, landing into safety. Astonished, no one said anything for several beats.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” Jason said.

  Few Words did his own version of a shrug. “Animals in nature can detect fear, also benevolence. I was not in any danger.”

  “Just the same, you may want to have our medic take a look at that leg,” Jason noted.

  Few Words looked at the back of his left calf and saw a stream of blood coming from a small bite. “They were just excited. It wasn’t intentional.”

  Dira moved to his side and looked at the bite. “Let me at least clean and disinfect it. I’ll get my kit.”

  As Dira jogged by Jason, her eyes met his for a fleeting moment and she smiled. Then she was gone.

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 34

  Mollie ran directly at Woodrow and then, at the last moment, let her body fall to the deck where she slid the rest of the way. Tightly gripped in one small fist was what Woodrow referred to as a nutcracker. Nothing more than a solid piece of rounded heavy steel, it delivered more than a little extra punch—especially when the punch targeted vulnerable areas: nose, solar plexus, throat, and testicles.

  Mollie wasn’t holding anything back. Punches needed to be thrown with everything she had, and for that reason Woodrow was wearing a padded helmet and a cup. As she slid and came to a stop between his feet, she maneuvered onto her side like Woodrow had taught her—perfectly positioned
to fire off a strategic blow to Woodrow’s most vulnerable area. She punched with everything her nine-year-old body had to offer. Purposely missing the obvious target, Mollie nailed Woodrow in the solar plexus.

  He immediately doubled over, reaching for his gut. Through clenched teeth he spat, “You tricky little—”

  Mollie wasn’t done. Woodrow had spent a good hour showing her how to throw an effective uppercut. With Woodrow’s head lowered, she just had to take the shot. She connected a solid blow to the side of his head, and saw it whip upwards and back.

  “Damn it! Will you wait a flippin’ minute?”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “You told me not to show mercy. You told me to stop fighting like a little girl and go for the kill.”

  Woodrow, finally able to stand upright, nodded his head. His grimace turned to a wary smile. “All right, let’s move on. I think you’ve got that maneuver pretty well mastered.”

  Mollie’s confidence level was bolstered up with every new trick and sly move Woodrow instructed her on. At first she’d felt guilty, as if she was doing something wrong; now she embraced what Woodrow called her inner Wonder Woman side. She’d been skeptical she would be able to inflict pain on an adult, but no longer. If she used her brain—didn’t panic—she definitely could deliver … what did he call it? Oh yeah, a world of hurt.

  “What am I learning tomorrow?”

  “I’m going to show you how to escape from various bonds.”

  “What do you mean bonds?”

  “Like ropes, duct tape, plastic zip ties; anything that makes you a prisoner and unable to fight back. By the end of the day, you’ll be a little Houdini.”

  “I don’t know what that is, but it sounds like fun.” Mollie handed over the nutcracker to Woodrow, who placed it back on a shelf in the cabinet.

  “We’re also going to spend more time at the firing range. You need to be a crack shot. Sometimes all you get is one chance. I want to make sure, even under pressure, you don’t miss what you’re shooting at.”

  * * *

  Bristol watched Orion check her multi-gun, then move on from one SEAL to the next checking theirs as well. She acted different when she was in charge, away from the captain. Domineering. Not attracted to women in the slightest—never had been—Bristol found himself strangely bemused by the tall, highly muscular female. There was something primal about the way she moved. She made Bristol uncomfortable when she was close, but he wasn’t totally adverse to it, either.

  “Did you hear me, Bristol?”

  “No. What did I miss?”

  Bristol returned her stare and then realized he was the only one with his visor open. He closed it and looked around the shuttle’s hold. Five SEALs stood at the ready, each looking back at him with an expression of contempt. So what, they don’t like me. I don’t care.

  “I need to know you’re paying attention. We’re at Her Majesty’s forward starboard hull. You’re clear on where we should phase-shift to, right?”

  “Probably.”

  Two of the SEALs’ facial expressions turned from contempt to out-and-out anger.

  “Why don’t you show some respect?” the larger of the two men asked.

  Bristol glanced down at the soldier’s name tag, Carl Gibson, and took his time answering. “I’m not part of your little army here, Carl. So why don’t you back off; give me some room to think. Can you do that?”

  Carl looked as though he was ready to throw a punch.

  “Relax, Gibson, you’ll get used to Bristol. It’s just the way he is,” Orion said flatly.

  “Where should we go first? Once we’re inside?” Orion asked Bristol.

  Bristol glanced out the porthole to where the mammoth vessel supposedly sat. The brainchild of his brother, the late Captain Stalls, it had been a colossal job acquiring the toric-cloaking device. A large unwieldy thing, they’d pulled it from a wrecked destroyer drifting dead in space. Once the destroyer had been scavenged from stem to stern, Her Majesty, a converted luxury liner, was enveloped in a highly-conductive type of mesh netting, which was then tied to a phenomenal piece of technology called a toric-device. A device using black zodium crystals that could no longer be found anywhere in the universe, and couldn’t be synthesized in a lab. Its only source came from a planet the Craing destroyed over a century earlier. Now, from off the ship, she was totally invisible. Bristol thought about his dead brother, who was unquestionably ruthless, a totally unscrupulous pirate, but still—he missed him.

  “Bristol!” the gunny yelled.

  “Yes, first the promenade deck. It’s wide open; ample room for us to phase-shift into, without the possibility of landing on a bulkhead, or something equally dense,” Bristol said, looking directly at Gibson. “From there we’ll head for the bridge. Once we’re there I can find the control for the toric-cloaking device and shut it off.”

  “If your coordinates are accurate we should be phase-shifting into the center of the compartment, several feet above the deck, just in case you’re off.”

  “Whatever.”

  Gibson gave Bristol another sideways glance and shook his head. Orion relayed all of their phase-shift controls over to her HUD.

  “On three, two, one …”

  Orion’s team phase-shifted two feet above Her Majesty’s promenade deck. Everyone bent their legs anticipating the drop, but hadn’t needed to.

  “Looks like grav is offline,” Orion said.

  Bristol took back control of his own phase-shift capability and set its coordinates for the far side of the promenade deck. In a flash he was across the compartment.

  “Come on, Bristol, we need to stay together,” Orion admonished.

  He waited for them to phase-shift next to him and then reached up to the bulkhead where there was an access keypad. A doublewide hatch slid open and Bristol pulled himself through it. Overhead lighting flickered, and between strobes of bright light, Bristol saw two bodies floating along the corridor. He thought he recognized them—at least, what was left of them. Decomposition had run its course. Their bloated, rotting faces looked more like wet, shriveled prunes than the tough guys he once knew.

  Bristol held back, letting Orion and Gibson move ahead of him down the corridor, then jumped ahead of the four SEALs. As Bristol moved closer to the first body, he tried not to look at it; it was one of his brother’s pirates. Like most of them, he’d worn a long ponytail, which now floated close to his distorted face. Bristol cautiously edged by the body and pulled himself forward in close pursuit of Orion and Gibson. But as Gibson moved past the second corpse, without a backward look, he gave the dead body a glancing shove, putting it on a direct trajectory toward Bristol.

  It was too late by the time Bristol reacted. The dead pirate’s body veered backward, spun around and floated headfirst toward him. Bristol grimaced as cloudy, vacant eyes bore down on him. Frantically, reaching for the bulkhead, anything to push off against, Bristol saw first the corpse’s swollen face first, then its body, as it careened into his helmet. A wet, pinkish smudge splattered his visor. Disgusted, Bristol kicked out at the body, sending it rotating down the corridor in the opposite direction. Curses erupted from the SEALs behind him.

  It took another thirty minutes for the team to reach the bridge. Bristol positioned himself in front of the nearest console and went to work running the ship’s diagnostics. Apparently, the AI was only minimally operational, and there was substantial damage on multiple decks, many of them now open to space. Her Majesty was in worse shape than he had figured.

  Within an hour, gravity had been restored and Bristol determined the massive drives would, in all likelihood, be operational soon, as well.

  With the toric-cloaking device deactivated, more personnel were arriving from The Lilly. The bridge was filling up; crewmembers began situating themselves at consoles. Something inside Bristol found this more than a little irritating. The truth was, with his brother dead, the ship was rightfully his.

  Three more entered the bridge: Brian Reynolds, the
woman Betty something or other, and the hopper.

  “How you coming along getting my ship operational, Bristol?” Brian asked, taking a seat in the command chair.

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 35

  No one got much sleep through the night. Even with their encircling fire barricade, the sheer size, the scale, of the indigenous animal life here necessitated that the fire be kept equally large. Apparently, the nocturnal predators were proportionate to, if not more abundant than, those of the day. As it turned out, anyone not on sentry duty was needed to add kindling to the fire and help keep it stoked.