Fast approaching in the distance, Jason saw the reflective breastplate of Commander Douville. Come to Papa … you fucking traitor.
As one thousand-plus Sahhrain warriors arrived on the scene, Sharks and rhinos instantly flashed away. But Jason stayed where he was—waiting for Ridert. Dusk had turned to night and, like flitting fireflies, Sharks and rhino-warriors danced in and out, using Rizzo’s maneuver. Would their diversionary tactics be enough to change the tide in their favor? Enough for their outnumbered forces to win the day? he wondered.
He waited for the overconfident Sahhrain warrior to stride to a halt, two paces in front of him. Jason didn’t flash away, but he did raise his multi-gun.
“Time for us to finish this romp, Captain,” Ridert said, looking smug. And why shouldn’t he be? The battle was nearing its end and his face merely reflected his anticipation of victory.
Jason didn’t answer—instead he pulled the trigger on his multi-gun and didn’t let up. Somehow, each plasma bolt was blocked by Ridert’s quick-moving shield. Perhaps it was his Kahill Callan training—but he seemed to know precisely where Jason was going to point his weapon next. In the midst of the ricocheting fire, Ridert steadily moved forward, and eventually used his shield, like a distortion wave battering ram, to propel Jason off his feet and onto his back. While flat on his back, Jason used Rizzo’s maneuver to flash away, directly behind Ridert. He fired—this time plasma fire raked the commander’s back. His metallic breastplate, which covered his chest, as well as his back, took the plasma fire—leaving an angled, blackened, foot-long scorch mark. Ridert immediately spun to his left, this time using his shield’s edging to propel himself up and away.
Jason jumped back to his feet, doing his best to track the commander’s movements. Again, he was struck by more distortion waves. Alarms sounded in his helmet as a warning flashed across his HUD—shields and power levels were falling fast. Jason caught Ridert’s life-icon, blinking into view, on his HUD, behind him. Without looking, Jason reacted with a high-angled back kick—delivering a devastating blow to Ridert’s face. Immediately, Jason followed up with a spinning-heel kick, delivered precisely to the commander’s temple. Ridert spun around one hundred and eighty degrees before falling face first into the sand.
Jason stood over Commander Douville, his multi-gun raised. It took nearly a minute for Ridert to rise from the ground. His eye patch, now askew, revealed a grotesque-looking empty eye socket.
“You’re under arrest, asshole. So much as twitch and I’ll blow you away.”
* * *
There were many casualties within HAB 170. Winning the battle was not easy, but in the end, the Sharks and rhinos prevailed over the Sahhrain warriors. Jason’s forces were cut in half—barely two hundred Sharks left—but they’d won, nonetheless.
Jason wasted no time—he phase-shifted directly back to the portal window and hurried across the still open threshold. As planned, he bypassed entering the Minian’s Zoo and entered habitat 7, the ancient ruins of a past Harpaign civilization.
What he hadn’t expected was to find himself in the midst of another ferocious battle. Plasma fire came from off to his left and violet distortion waves were virtually arcing all around; slain bodies lay everywhere on the ground. Leon and Rizzo still held their own with the assistance of twenty-plus Blues warriors. There were just as many Sahhrain combatants about, but none of that caught Jason’s attention.
In the distance, closer to the ruins, he saw a reflective gold breastplate and a black cloak—the unmistakable signature of Lord Shakrim. Who was he fighting? Someone small … was it Ricket? No … not Ricket … he’d been injured earlier … oh, God … please not Boomer …
Jason used Rizzo’s maneuver to come up behind Shakrim. Stunned at what he was seeing, Shakrim about to strike down his daughter—Jason realized he didn’t have his multi-gun. His battle suit power levels were at zero. Boomer, with her back against a wall, had fear on her face, her eyes clenched closed.
Without conscious thought, Jason slapped the long and slender access panel running down the upper thigh of his battle suit. The Ka-Bar knife was in his hand, thrust forward in less than a second. Jason aimed for the back of Lord Shakrim’s head. But, perhaps detecting his presence, Shakrim moved his body away just in time—but not his left arm.
There’d been other times in his life when Jason felt rage, but nothing compared to that moment. The knife, with its razor-sharp blade, sliced into Shakrim’s forearm. With Jason’s full body weight momentum behind it, the knife’s path continued on, slicing through both bands that secured the enhancement shield onto Shakrim’s forearm. Once released of their fastenings, both knife and shield flew upward, into the air.
Jason deactivated his battle suit. Even before each segment had fully retracted, his tightly clenched fists began to pound on both sides of Shakrim’s head and face. One thing Jason was certain of, he couldn’t let up … not for a second. So he punched—punched until his knuckles cracked and bled. Lord Shakrim was hurt and stumbling to stay upright. Just as abruptly, he took three quick steps backward; he’d somehow regained his senses and was standing up straight.
Shakrim smiled—he smiled the way a parent looks at a petulant child. He thrust out both arms simultaneously—one in the direction of his fallen shield, the other toward Jason. Distortion waves shot out from the shield, into his body, and back out through his other hand. At least ten feet from Shakrim, Jason felt the warrior’s fingers begin to tighten, like a contracting vice, around his neck. Unable to breathe and his eyes feeling as if they would bulge from their sockets, Jason began to rise off the ground. Using both hands, he tried to free himself to find some gap to pry open the ever-tightening grip. Jason’s feet flailed like a man at the end of a hangman’s rope. Without air … without blood circulating into his brain, consciousness was quickly fading. He was dying. He saw Boomer below him … eyes wide. She was paralyzed with fear. Jason didn’t want her to see him like this. Like a pathetic clown jerking around in the throws of death.
Movement. But not Boomer … who, then? Dira! She was holding something in her hands … a stone—part of a crumbled pillar. She was higher than him, up on a raised area of the ruins. Behind Shakrim—she hefted the stone up over her head … teeth gritted and her face contorted in what could only be described as pure hatred, she leapt from above while bringing the full weight of the stone down upon the back of Shakrim’s head.
Jason fell to the ground gasping for breath—his lungs heaving. He looked up and saw Lord Shakrim was still alive. He’d been driven to his knees and was reaching behind his head. His hand came away bloody.
Jason tried to yell for her to move, but his words came out more like a croak. Dira continued to stand there—as if mesmerized—transfixed. Shakrim slowly rose to his feet, staggered, turned, and looked at Dira. He back-handed her to the face with enough force to knock her off her feet—catapulting her several yards away. She hit the sand and didn’t move.
Shakrim staggered again and fell back down to his knees. His eyes lost focus and he wavered there.
What Jason next witnessed froze him in his tracks—Shakrim’s body was losing substance, turning quasi-transparent—like an illusion, he was there but not there … fluctuating between some alternate realm where something, or someone, was taking over his place. Now, before Jason, stood the smaller figure of an elderly man, dressed in a simple nomad’s attire. Jason knew, beyond a doubt, he was looking into the cold, evil eyes of Rom Dasticon.
Jason spotted his knife where it had landed and dove for it. He landed within reach and let his fingers tighten around its handle. But that was as far as he got. A scalding hot, searing bolt shot him in the back of his shoulders. His consciousness faded to blackness, and then slowly returned, as he tried to turn back over twice. He needed to keep Dasticon in his sights. Where is he? He needed to protect Boomer. Is she even alive?
A blur of movement caught his eye. What he was seeing now didn’t make sense: apparently Boomer had regained the
use of her arm and her shield. She was back in the fight. But who or what was she fighting?
Jason blinked and again tried to make sense of what he was seeing. It seemed as if Rom Dasticon and Lord Shakrim, now holding his recovered enhancement shield in two hands, were superimposed, one onto the other. They moved as one—but also separately. It was more evident now: Dasticon was the predominant force … the puppeteer wielding Lord Shakrim’s once-powerful warrior body.
Jason watched Boomer quickly duck, evading the Dasticon-Shakrim duo’s now bright red distortion wave. It missed her head by inches, while cleaving, in half, an ancient pillar directly behind her. Their combined force obviously multiplied, their destructive power was greatly enhanced.
Boomer was in the air, twirling like a gymnast. As if defying gravity, she rose higher yet, unleashing a stream of crimson-red distortion waves. She missed, turning the sand near Jason’s feet to molten glass. He wanted to intervene—get into the fight. Assist Boomer to defeat them, but everything was moving far too fast for his eyes to follow. Even if he had a multi-gun, he’d just as likely shoot her as he would her combatants.
Jason got to his feet and noticed that the battle formerly raging between Blues and Sahhrain was quiet. All eyes were on Boomer and her attackers. She was running on the ground now, going head-to-head with them—blocking their waves of energy and firing off her own, lighting-fast, distortion wave streams back at them. Her hands and shield moved with incredible speed, everything a blur.
Sparks erupted high on Shakrim’s breastplate. A portion of his shoulder was no longer there.
Rom Dasticon’s form quickly became more predominant, his face distorted in rage. He spat words—phrases Jason’s nano-devices couldn’t translate.
More sparks erupted, this time at Lord Shakrim’s midsection. Dasticon was now unable to control the Sahhrain leader’s body; he flailed his arms but Shakrim no longer mirrored his movements. Boomer used her shield’s distortion waves to propel herself up and over them in a cartwheel maneuver. She landed behind their co-joined backs and delivered a final killing blow to the base of Lord Vikor Shakrim’s neck. He fell to his knees, hesitated there for a moment, before listing over on his side.
Rom Dasticon remained standing. He turned toward Jason, his form progressively becoming more and more transparent, as his eyes stared past Jason, toward the portal, and into the Minian behind it. Then he was gone.
Jason felt horrific pain throbbing in his shoulders, where he’d been struck earlier by distortion waves—he lost consciousness.
* * *
He opened his eyes and saw Dira kneeling down beside him. A bruise had formed on her cheek where she’d been struck. She reached out, touching his face, and pushed his damp hair from his forehead. “It’s over … it’s over now, my love.”
Jason sat up and looked for Boomer. She barreled into him with arms wide open and held on to him, tightly, for long minutes. Eventually, letting him go, she stood back and retracted her battle suit. She again looked like any other ten-year-old girl.
“Are you okay, Boomer, are you hurt?”
“Nope. Not hurt, but tired.” She looked over at the unmoving body of Lord Vikor Shakrim. “I guess … he’s dead?”
Jason nodded. “He’s gone.”
“Good.” She sat down next to her father and continued to stare at the body.
Dira had returned to assisting Hanna, who lay unmoving on the ground somewhere behind him. Jason suddenly detected the unmistakable, and potent, odor of Billy’s god-awful cigar, coming from behind him.
“What do you say we get the hell out of here, Cap?”
Chapter 55
Dacci System
The Minian, Bridge
_________________
Star Watch forces were in the midst of their second, post-interstellar uprising mopping-up process in less than a week. Jason assigned seven fleet assets, all Craing light cruisers, to remain behind within the Dacci system—for an indefinite period of time.
Now that Vikor Shakrim was dead, Commander Douville was in custody, and the Sahhrain uprising squashed hopefully for good, the Minian was scheduled to leave the system within the hour and return to Jefferson Station.
Jason rose from the command chair and headed for the exit. “Gunny … I’ll be in Medical. Keep me abreast of any developments with the Sahhrain … or the Blues … or anyone else for that matter.”
“Aye, Cap. But things seem to have quieted down.”
* * *
Jason entered Medical, which earlier had been more like a three-ring circus than an onboard hospital. For the first few hours, after the dual habitat battles, all MediPods were in constant use; others injured were in an adjoining hospital compartment, lying in rail beds as they waited their turn. Med-techs scurried from patient to patient treating minor injuries, while Dira and two other doctors concentrated their efforts on those more critical.
Jason had waited for things to calm down some, before personally checking on his injured crew. Dira, speaking with another doctor, briefly caught his eye from across the compartment, but just as quickly looked away. She was still frosty from the whole Nan situation. He knew he’d handled it badly … terribly, in fact. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do. Dira probably figured he was well on his way to reconciling with his ex-wife … reuniting their broken family. At some point, he knew they’d need to talk and clear the air—but the truth was, he wasn’t sure how she would react.
The good news, Jason thought, as he looked around, things seemed somewhat more manageable. He approached the first MediPod and looked into the small observation window.
Leon, whom Jason hadn’t noticed earlier, stepped up to his side and huffed, “She spends more time in one of those pods than anywhere else.”
“She’s going to be okay, right?” Jason asked, looking down at the young blonde woman who appeared to be sleeping.
“Massive internal injuries … got her here in the nick of time. But yeah … thankfully, she’ll live.”
“Good. I’d like it if you both stuck around for a while. I may have a long-term proposition for you, unless there’s a reason you need to get back into space.”
“She’ll be convalescing for another few days … I’ll listen to your proposal,” Leon replied.
Jason squeezed his shoulder and moved along to the next MediPod. Ricket lay inside it.
“Spinal cord injuries are especially tricky to treat … he’ll be in there a while.”
Jason looked up to see Dira on the other side of the clamshell lid. Her beautiful face reflected all-business composure—a doctor talking to her boss.
“I’m sure he’s getting the best treatment.”
“MediPods give everyone the same level of treatment,” she answered flatly.
Jason moved over to the next MediPod, closer to Dira, and stood facing a substantially larger MediPod, designed specifically for the bulk of a rhino-warrior or larger-sized patients. Traveler rested inside this one and Jason reflexively grimaced at what he was viewing. He’d witnessed his friend lose his arm, at the shoulder, in battle, as three Sahhrain warriors all together used their enhancement shields to bring down the big rhino. Although half his arm looked restored, the exposed bone, muscle, tendons, and everything else on the rest of it, now in mid-regeneration, wasn’t a pretty sight.
Together, they continued to watch Traveler. Jason could smell Dira’s soft fragrance and his heart felt heavy in his chest.
“Well, I have things to do,” she said, stepping away.
“Wait. Who’s in that one?” Jason asked, pointing to the next MediPod in the line.
She paused and looked over to the next MediPod and shrugged. “No one. It’s available.” She looked annoyed and continued to walk away.
Jason moved to the MediPod and said, “No … there’s someone in there.”
She let out a breath and joined Jason at his side. They both looked into the observation window. Jason looked at Dira. She was now staring at what rested on th
e cushioned bed. “What is that?”
“I don’t know … why don’t you take a look and see?” Jason nodded to Boomer, who’d been standing in the wings. She activated the pod’s lid and the clamshell separated and opened, then came to a stop. Dira’s expression became even more serious as realization set in.
Jason reached in and took out the small jewelry box, then opened it. Her eyes were wide and her face had the unmistakable look of one approaching the biggest drop ever on a rollercoaster. Jason opened the small box wider while lowering down to one knee. Dira’s hands flew to her cheeks, as her eyes brimmed over with tears. She looked first at the extricated diamond ring now in Jason’s fingers and then to Jason. For the first time she became aware that others had joined them: Boomer and Leon and Billy and Orion and, as far as she could see, the whole damn crew were huddled together in Medical. All eyes were on Dira.
She looked down at Jason and, for the first time in quite a while, smiled.
She held out her hand and waited for Jason to put the ring on her finger.
“Marry me?” Jason asked.
She hesitated … looked at the faces around her, and replied, “Of course, I will!”
Cheers filled the crowded small compartment as Jason stood and took Dira in his arms and kissed her.
Epilogue
Dacci System
The Minian, Brig
_________________
Hanna entered the brig section of the Minian. Up ahead she saw a corridor with a row of confinement cells off to the right, each behind a grayish blue force field. Leon was walking at her side.
Hanna put a hand on his arm, stopped and said, “Can you wait? I need to do this alone.”
“I’ll be right here,” he said.
She continued on, head high, eyes forward. She passed three empty confinement cells before reaching her husband’s. She turned to face the lone occupant.
He looked different than she remembered. Above and beyond the eye patch and even the far more muscular physique than she remembered him having, he looked like a man she might have known in another lifetime. Which he was.
Star Watch Page 30
