Star Watch

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  * * *

  Once everyone was on board the small craft, Ricket showed up outside the Charm and entered what seemed an almost endless code into an access panel, located at the side of HAB 331. Then, with only a little back-and-forth maneuvering within the corridor, Grimes eased the Charm through the now-open portal. Viewing him through a starboard observation window, Leon saw Ricket, in the corridor, wave as the ship slowly departed the Minian and entered the habitat.

  Rizzo sat next to Grimes in the compact cockpit, while the rest of the assault team, along with Hanna and Leon, sat in the cabin directly behind. Seated in the front row seats, Hanna sat between Leon and Bristol. Leon, as well as the others, could see into the cockpit and out its front observation window. A sandy, desert-like environment lay outside, with a range of jagged, rocky mountains ahead.

  “How you going to find him?” Leon asked.

  Grimes maneuvered the Charm several hundred feet up in the air, moving onward. “We already know where he is. He’s fitted with a tracker … but the Charm’s sensors will detect his location even if he’s found a way to remove it.”

  “So, then, where is he?” Hanna asked.

  Bristol extended a skinny arm and pointed to the 3D display hovering in front of Grimes and Rizzo. “That red dot there … that would be your first clue.”

  Leon really didn’t like Bristol—always a smartass remark—the shitty attitude. Why do these people put up with the guy?

  Leon felt the little vessel pick up speed, now on course toward the red icon. He glanced toward Hanna and saw the anticipation on her face. His attraction to her had only grown over the past few days, but her having a husband definitely changed things. That, and the fact that he knew she was trouble. He’d met others like her before … and his inner voice was telling him, screaming at him, to stay clear. Too many secrets—too many hidden agendas … and again, that whole missing husband thing.

  They passed the rocky cliffs and soon a gorge of sorts came into view. Smoke billowed into the air and Leon could see bright red lava flows streaming in various places along the chasm.

  “How the hell did he do that?” Rizzo asked, leaning forward and looking downward as they passed over what had to be quite a magnificent obstacle for anyone attempting to traverse from one side of the chasm to the other.

  Grimes said, “You got me … he wasn’t supposed to be able to leave this desert and mountain-ridged area. From what Captain Reynolds told me, although he’s armed with a multi-gun, he was left stranded on that high mountain ledge back there …” She laughed. “He didn’t even have clothes to wear … thanks to the captain.”

  “Yeah, heard that, too,” Rizzo said. “Okay … looks like we’re getting close … go ahead and bring us down.”

  Leon noticed on the display there were a significant number of orange icons showing up, moving in a line, with a sole red icon, also moving.

  “I take it there’s other inhabitants here?” Leon asked.

  “Besides the Serapins … there’s a bunch of ancient Craing warriors running around on this side of the volcanic chasm. This habitat is based on a small slice of the Craing world of Halimar … but as it appeared thousands of years ago,” Bristol said. “I’ve been to this shit hole … the sooner we do what we came for, the better.”

  Rizzo, his visor open, seemed to think Bristol’s comments humorous. The Charm landed on a flat, seemingly endless field of green grass. From Leon’s perspective, it resembled any number of places back on Earth—Kansas, Ohio, or eastern Colorado. Rizzo got to his feet. “You three … once outside initialize your SuitPac devices. It may look safe out there but, I assure you, it’s not.”

  One by one, everyone disembarked through the rear hatchway. Hanna stepped away from the ship and looked around. “It’s nice here.”

  Rizzo leaned close to her and pinched the SuitPac device at her belt. Immediately, a segmented battle suit covered her head to toe. Leon saw her shielded eyes take in the icons and various readouts displayed on her HUD.

  “You’ll get used to it all,” Leon said. “It looks a lot more intimidating than it really is.” He triggered his own SuitPac. The first thing he noticed were quickly approaching orange icons.

  Rizzo said, “You three … stay down on the ground and keep out of the way.” He, and the six others on his assault team, quickly spread out, their multi-guns raised.

  In the distance, Leon heard an increasing clattering noise. The ground began to vibrate beneath his prone body’s battle suit. Then, on the horizon, he saw something. He worked his HUD settings and zoomed in. It was a line—easily twenty-five small chariots, all charging forward, each manned by a small Craing. And these chariots weren’t being pulled by horses, but by blue-colored beasts, the Serapins. And they were all charging in their direction.

  At the center of the charge, and slightly ahead of the others, was a larger chariot, being drawn by two equally larger Serapins. A human, wearing a leather breastplate, held the reins.

  Bristol, directly to Leon’s right, said, “No fucking way … Stalls!”

  Chapter 32

  Dacci System

  The Minian, Zoo Habitat 331

  _________________

  Leon got to his feet and watched as a single, straight-line formation of chariots charged forward, with no sign of slowing. Churned up chunks of grass, small rocks, and dirt clods were sprayed into the air from pummeling, powerful, Serapin claws—adding to the almost cinematic effect of the oncoming spectacle. Long, wet strings of saliva hung from open, gaping jaws … embedded with unusually long, and undoubtedly sharp, teeth. Suddenly, and not a moment too soon, the pirate captain reined in his two charging Serapins and, in a dramatic, climatic show of piloting control he, followed by the other chariot drivers, pulled hard on their reins and brought their chariots to an immediate skidding halt, no more than thirty yards from where Leon and the others were standing.

  Rizzo and his team had their multi-guns held high: the stocks of their weapons up against their shoulders, their muzzles pointed at the new arrivals. Similarly, twenty-five Craing warriors stood with their arms outstretched, bows fully drawn, with arrows poised for flight.

  It was a show worthy of applause. Especially since it was all for show. Leon figured Stalls must be well aware that arrows would have zero impact on their battle suits. He must also be fully cognizant that the assault team’s weaponry would bring down his little Craing army in mere seconds, if it came to battling. No … this was all for show.

  Bristol was the first to retract his battle suit, soon followed by Hanna. Next, Leon retracted his suit as well—not wanting to show he was any less brave, even in the face of all those arrows, still pointed in their general direction. Leon stepped to Hanna’s side. “Good God, I guess that smell is something one gets used to,” he said under his breath, gesturing toward the twenty-six jittery, steaming hot, Serapin beasts. But Hanna’s attention was fully on the tall man, now stepping down from out of the rear of his chariot. As he turned away from them for a second, Leon saw him from behind and noted he had a long, black ponytail hanging down to the middle of his back. As he now approached, Leon saw Stalls smile. But his smile wasn’t what one would expect from someone seeing a long lost relative, or even a good friend, again. No, he wore a smile of contempt and arrogance. His self-importance was almost tangible, something Leon almost could reach out and touch.

  Bristol took a hesitant step forward, doing his part in meeting his approaching, far bigger, half-brother. Stalls’ eyes never left Bristol. When close enough, Stalls swung a fierce backhand that connected with the left side of Bristol’s face. The skinny, overtly nerdy, younger man fell to the ground in an awkward tangle of arms and legs. Rizzo and his men, their weapons raised and poised to fire, quickly moved forward.

  “Hold on … it’s all right!” Bristol yelled. “Stand down … I probably had that coming.”

  Rizzo retracted his visor into his helmet, his face clearly showing his anger. “Touch him again and I’ll be happy t
o burn you down to an oily stain on the ground.”

  Stalls’ eyes briefly left Bristol for Rizzo. Recognition showed on his face. It was apparent today’s encounter wasn’t the first time they’d come in contact with each other. Stalls’ smile returned, and, ignoring Rizzo, he extended his hand down to Bristol, who took it and pulled himself up off the ground.

  “Little brother. How nice of you to drop by for a visit. You should have called first; I would have prepared a feast in your honor. For you and for our young sister,” he said, now turning his gaze in Hanna’s direction.

  Leon watched with fascination as the family drama unfolded. This is never going to work.

  Stalls maintained his grip on Bristol’s hand and pulled his younger brother in close. “It is good to see you, Bristol. I might even forgive you … in time.” He released Bristol’s hand and turned toward his half-sister. “Hanna … look at you … you’re all grown up … a woman in every way.” Stalls took a step back and eyed his sister up and down, head to toe, then back up again. “And what a woman you are!” He stepped forward quickly, pulling her close. Her arms remained at her sides as she disappeared into the big man’s enfolding embrace.

  Only a few feet away, Leon thought Stalls smelled nearly as foul as the Serapins. He saw that Hanna’s eyes were closed, more like clenched, as she waited for her older brother to release her. Leon noticed Stalls looking over at him—assessing him from over her shoulder.

  “And who do we have here?” Stalls asked, finally releasing his hold on Hanna. He gestured for the Craing men to put down their bows. Rizzo then said, “Stand down,” to his team as well.

  “That’s Leon Pike,” Hanna said in a flat voice. “Be nice to him. He might be your ticket out of here … if you don’t screw things up.”

  Stalls stepped away from Hanna, but maintained a hold on both her wrists. “What is this man to you, Hanna? I don’t like him … I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

  Hanna flashed a quick glance in Leon’s direction but didn’t say anything.

  Stalls released one of her hands, slowly bringing his fingertips up to her face. She flinched. Stalls hesitated, then continued on, using the back of his fingers to gently stroke one cheek. She tried to pull away but his solid grip on her other arm held her in place. “Such a pretty face … you always were so …”

  Seeing the revulsion on Hanna’s face, Leon couldn’t simply stand by. He looked over to Rizzo, who also seemed ready to make a move. Leon said, “Hey, why don’t you let her go, Stalls. We have some important things to discuss.”

  Stalls acted as if he hadn’t heard Leon—continuing to gaze at his sister—first tilting his head one way, then the other.

  This guy really is a sicko, Leon thought.

  Stalls spoke softly, almost in a whisper, “Don’t you think it’s disrespectful to come into someone else’s backyard and start making demands? What do you think I should do about him, Hanna?”

  Leon shook his head. “Look … I’m not going to ask you again; let her go.”

  Bristol, looking nearly as uncomfortable as Hanna, said, “Come on, Stalls … knock it off … okay?”

  Leon, watching, saw it coming—it was nearly imperceptible. He’d learned a long time ago, when waiting for an opponent’s first move, you notice two things: their eyes and their breathing. It was subtle, but he’d definitely caught it. Stalls’ eyes twitched—ever so slightly—and he’d taken in a breath, and held it. Stalls yanked Hanna to his right while punching out with his left fist toward Leon’s face. Leon was ready for him. Stalls’ punch was fast, very fast. But not fast enough to tag him. Leon dodged it and stepped to the side. He also brought up the long knife he’d earlier pulled out from the back of his collar, and pressed it beneath the fleshy area of Stalls’ outstretched chin. So much for Jason’s directive to make friends. Perhaps Stalls detected the attraction between him and Hanna … thinking Leon had encroached on his familial territory, or something. Hell, there was no reasoning with psychotics and it was obvious this old pirate was more than a little crazy.

  “Move … even twitch … and the tip of this blade will be tickling the middle of your brain. Do you understand?”

  Stalls stayed perfectly still, keeping his eyes focused steadily on Leon.

  The pirate smiled; this time, a broad, showing-all-his-teeth kind of smile. He laughed and said, “Maybe I do like you … you’re devious and probably ruthless.”

  Leon, slowly, brought the tip of his knife away from Stalls’ chin. Stalls’ smile remained as he assessed first Leon, then the rest of the assault team. He rubbed his hands together, like a hungry man ready to eat. “This is going to be good. I can tell … this is going to be monumental, isn’t it?” he asked, now looking at Hanna.

  “If you’re done with the theatrics, I’ll tell you,” she said, the slightest touch of humor in her voice.

  “No … I want to savor this. You will join me … all of you … for dinner. My camp is nearby—”

  “I know where the camp is,” Rizzo interrupted. “Remember … this isn’t my first trip to the circus, Stalls.”

  * * *

  They sat around a blazing fire, within a clearing the size of two side-by-side football fields. The surrounding evergreen trees were tall and dense, not dissimilar to some big pines indigenous to northwest America. The Charm was close by and Rizzo’s men kept a vigilant guard on both the ship and the passengers seated outside.

  Leon didn’t know the complete story … how Stalls ended up in this habitat, but it seemed obvious to him he’d made the best of it. He had to give the pirate that much credit.

  “I really should still be mad at you, little brother. Your captain left me stranded on a bluff, hundreds of feet from the ground. Did I mention he’d taken my clothes? Do you have any idea what it’s like to scale down the side of a mountain with no pants?” That evoked laughs all around, except from Hanna.

  “At least you had a weapon,” Bristol said.

  “It lasted a few weeks … and I killed a lot of Serapins. But then the battery pack, and the spares, too, all petered out. The beasts continued to come … mostly at night. I knew there was just one hope for my survival … to get across that volcanic gorge. I’d seen fields of green from atop the bluff; I knew I had to get across it … somehow.”

  “How’d you manage that?” Rizzo asked. “Hell … I tried to do it myself, and that was with a battle suit on. More than a few on our team went up in flames crossing that chasm.”

  “Patience and timing,” Stalls replied. “Every three days, there’s a lull in volcanic activity. It only lasts a few minutes, so you need to move fast. I tried four separate times … only the last time, I was successful.”

  Leon watched as the group talked and ate—some kind of meat and gravy stew that was actually not too bad. As near to normal as Stalls was behaving now, Leon had no doubt the man was never far from once again becoming the lunatic he’d witnessed earlier. He saw the natives keeping an eye on himself and the other newcomers, but even more so on Stalls. He didn’t see admiration in their eyes; he saw fear.

  “And the Craing warriors?” Leon asked, gesturing with his hand to the surrounding encampment.

  “Oh … that’s a story for another time. No … it’s time we spoke of why you’re here and what you so desperately need of me.”

  Leon’s expression turned stern. “You seem fairly content. You’ve made this your home … you’re a king among hundreds. We may have been mistaken. Truth is, I no longer think we should have come here. I apologize … we shouldn’t have come.”

  Hanna, who’d stayed quiet since her ordeal with Stalls back in the field, looked over to Leon with a startled expression. Rizzo and Bristol looked equally disconcerted.

  “Don’t trifle with me, Mr. Pike. You need me … for something … and it’s going to get me out of here.” Stalls appeared on the verge again and close to erupting, which was exactly where Leon wanted him.

  “First, you’re going to help your sister … pr
ovide her with the information she requires. Then we can talk about getting you out of here and what else we need from you.”

  Stalls tossed his half-eaten bowl of stew onto the ground and looked over at Hanna. He smiled at her and said, “You think I don’t know exactly what you’re dying to ask me? Why you’ve come along on this little habitat foray?”

  “Is he … alive?” she asked, her eyes downcast, staring steadily into the flames.

  Stalls waited for her to look up at him. Obviously, he liked to taunt … no … he liked to torture. “Hanna, the man you married is not the same man who managed to survive the Sahhrain prison camps.”

  “What does that mean? Why can’t you just answer the damn question?” Hanna was standing now, her fists clenched.

  Stalls let out a long breath, as if the whole conversation had become overly burdensome. Leon considered retrieving his knife.

  “What it means is your husband, Ridert, is no longer the same man taken from that exploration vessel three years ago. He’s lost an eye, for one thing, although he looks surprisingly dashing with his eye patch—but the changes go far deeper than that. In fact, he’s now the leader of Lord Vikor Shakrim’s very own Chosen Spears imperial guard … the truth is, he’s nearly as cunning, might I dare say as evil, as Lord Shakrim himself. We’ve shared Targonian spirits together on several occasions. As much as it pains me to say this … the casual observer might go so far as to even call us friends.”

  She jumped on him. Her screams echoed out into the night. Fists pounded down onto Stalls’ head and shoulders. Her knee came up and connected to his nose. Blood spurted and poured freely down and over his lips. The sounds of his laughter began to ebb and, with one quick flick of his hand, Hanna was knocked to the ground. She stayed down and sobbed. Leon put a hand on her back, tried to help her up, but she shrugged him off. Getting to her feet on her own she ran to the Charm and disappeared inside.