I said, “System, broadcast what I have to say to her.”
Three beetles had dropped from the ceiling onto the commander’s back, although she had yet to be bitten.
I spoke in clear, concise, Wikkam. “Commander, my name is Dominic.” I heard the sound of my own faint clicks and tonal cords reverberate out into the bridge compartment.
“Who are you? “ she sneered.
“I’m your worst nightmare, that’s who I am. So listen carefully to me. If you want to stay alive, you will follow my orders, explicitly.”
She responded without pause. “I would rather die than help you, human scum!”
Five more beetles dropped from the ceiling. Another dozen scurried up the ramp. The Wikk commander scrambled about, her movements getting more frenzied and desperate by the second.
The first of the beetles must have taken a bite, because she straightened, head angled upward, her mouth gaping wide in apparent agony. Blood seeped out from beneath her right wing.
“Go ahead and make the Watcher Craft visible, Hannig. Let’s let her see us.”
Lori said, “Really? We have to watch this? Her being tortured to death?”
I shot her a look. “We forgot about the situation on Earth. How many Wikk shuttles are down there right now? A hundred? Two hundred? The abductions are still taking place. More families, children, being terrorized.”
Lori nodded. “You’re right.”
I directed my attention back to the alien. “Do you want to live? I won’t ask you again, Commander.”
“Yes! Yes, I want to live!”
Georgina looked about their compact surroundings. “You’re not letting her in here, are you?”
I shook my head. “Move the vessel, Hannig . . . close enough for her to hop on top of the roof.”
The insect alien leapt the moment the Watcher Craft was close enough. We all heard the multiple thumps as her body and limbs landed up top.
“Keep us moving, Hannig. More and more of those beetles are climbing up the walls and getting onto the ceiling.”
The Watcher Craft continued to circle the expansive bridge compartment.
“System, let me speak with our Wikk passenger again.”
I waited for the acknowledgment tone. “Commander, you have lost. One of your starships is destroyed, and this one no longer has a crew. You have been defeated.” I waited for an acknowledgment from her, but none came.
“You will now contact all of your dispatched shuttles. Command that all the human prisoners are to be released, unharmed. Once that’s completed, shuttle crews are to disembark their crafts and surrender to local authorities. Do this now or, I assure you, you’ll be eaten alive by tens of thousands of these beetles. Perhaps I’ll reprogram them to take their time, to draw out the experience.”
We listened as the six-legged insect paced back and forth overhead.
Carlo said, “Maybe we need to give her a bit more incentive?”
Hannig jiggled the controls just enough to wobble the craft. She was thrown off-balance, and we listened as her legs scraped and scratched, attempting to gain purchase above us. Then her clicks and tones were loud enough to hear within the Watcher Craft’s cabin. She was now speaking directly with the Retribution’s AI and ordering that her voice commands were to be transmitted to all Wikk vessels worldwide. “All shuttles cease any further abductions. All humans are to be released, unharmed.”
We waited for the rest of it. Without prompting, Hannig wobbled the Watcher Craft one more time. Commander Righteous Fist completed her directives: “All pilots, all crewmembers, disembark . . . surrender yourselves to the humans. Do so, now!”
I saw relief in Lori’s, Georgina’s and Carlo’s eyes. And we were all thinking the same thing. Asking the same question. Had we actually done this? Somehow ended the invasion. Averted domination, subjugation and worse, by this diabolical alien race?
“Hannig, is there a way to actually verify results? That her orders are being acted upon?” I asked.
Hannig tapped at his control board. “Indications show that they are.”
He suddenly looked up, as if something had caught his eye. I tried to follow his gaze, but I couldn’t see anything. Then it was there, at the opposite side of the bridge. A visual anomaly? A distortion?
“Talk to me, Hannig. Is that another Watcher Craft getting up close and personal?” I asked.
He nodded, a resigned expression taking over his face. “It was only a matter of time. There are five of them here within the Retribution’s bridge compartment.” Hannig resumed his previous task. “Yes, it is apparent each of the shuttles, all 84 of them, are now on the ground and are currently releasing captives.”
My gaze lingered on what lay beyond the portal window. Passive as the Khantam Lom supposedly were, I didn’t like this, especially with what Hannig had suggested.
We all looked up at the same time. Righteous Fist was speaking again. Her clicks and strumming tone sounds had far more of an edge to them now.
“Activate Auxiliary Cannon Five . . . fire Tantium missile . . . destroy the Dominate’s lone remaining shuttle!”
Stunned, we looked to each other.
“Throw the bitch off!” I yelled.
“Look!” Lori said, standing at the portal window. There, already fifty feet distance from the Watcher Craft, was Commander Righteous Fist—broad wings flapping. She was flying away.
“No! They can’t fucking fly! You said they can’t fly!” I demanded, turning my fury to Hannig. “How—”
Hannig said, “Dominic, we have a far more important issue at hand. The Retribution’s Auxiliary Cannon Five is powering up. It’s targeting the shuttle.”
“Can we cancel her command?”
“No, I believe the weapons systems will only respond to her voice.”
“Get us out of here. Get over to the shuttle!” The words had no sooner left my lips than the Retribution shook around us. A missile had indeed just been fired. “Do something, Hannig, anything!”
In a blur, the alien man’s fingers flew over the top of his control board.
“What are you doing?” Georgina asked.
“Talking to the Retribution’s AI. Changing the missile’s routing. I cannot cancel the target, but I can change the trajectory course.” Hannig shot a glance up to the nearest view screen. There, we saw the Retribution in Earth’s high orbit. The shuttle, also in high orbit, was positioned a quarter of the way around the planet from our position. But all of our eyes were locked upon the lone, pulsing red dot now making its way, counter-clockwise, around the Earth. Suddenly, the dot seemed to slow. “Thirty-five seconds to impact,” Hannig said.
“The damned thing is still headed for the shuttle?” I asked, furious.
“I have doubled the flight time interval. Directed the missile to skim Earth’s upper atmosphere, scorching the missile’s nosecone assembly and overheating its targeting electronics.”
“What’ll that do?” Lori asked.
“It will introduce miscalculation variables due to the damaged sensors. Inaccuracies.” Hannig sat back and watched the view screen with the rest of us. Clearly, he had done all he could and was now waiting to see, with the rest of us, if it had been enough.
The pulsing red dot was two-thirds of the way around the planet, closing in on the shuttle.
Georgina let out a breath. “What’s to stop that insect . . . the Retribution, from firing off another missile? Or a hundred missiles?”
“System has made that an impossibility, I believe,” Hannig said. “It’s cut off access.”
“Shouldn’t we warn the ones in the shuttle?” Carlo asked.
“The Wikk pilots will already be aware of the missile targeting their vessel. Like us, all they can do is wait for what is coming..”
“Get us over there, Hannig. Get us in close.”
Looking somber, Hannig nodded, “Yes, yes. Please, hold on, everyone.”
The ship’s astonishing speed allowed us to arrive in time t
o see the missile explode. It missed directly impacting the shuttle. A fireball close to a half-mile away momentarily blazed bright before the vacuum of space extinguished it. The Watcher Craft was filled with cheers, hoots and hollers. We high-fived each other and patted Hannig on the shoulders for a job well done. But Hannig wasn’t joining in with any of the celebrations.
“What is it? What’s wrong, Hannig?” I asked.
Too busy maneuvering the Watcher Craft in closer to the shuttle, he didn’t answer. Then my comms came alive—the others onboard were close enough for their faint signal to now reach us. “Shuttle’s breaking apart . . . help . . . hull breach!”
“Oh my God,” Lori said. “Look at the bodies. They’re spewing out into space!”
Chapter 57
I heard their yelling—frantic voices coming over our comms all at once, Gordo’s and Caputo’s and Gary’s too. Although the missile had been diverted, and had not directly impacted the shuttle, its detonation had still been powerful enough, close enough, to impact the integrity of a section of the shuttle’s hull.
Somewhere I’d learned a person could survive in space, without a spacesuit, for mere seconds—fifteen, maybe twenty.
“Maddie! Maddie is in there!” Lori said, her palms up on the portal window, her face inches from the glass. “So many bodies. They’re dying right before our eyes!”
Hannig navigated the Watcher Craft into the shuttle, and within seconds we were inside the small bridge. We saw the five of them, the two Wikk pilots, Gordo, Caputo and Gary. Apparently, the bridge was still intact, although the shuttle’s gravity generators had gone out.
“Leave them, take us aft!” I yelled.
Hannig did as told, and soon the Watcher Craft was moving within the near pitch-black main compartment.
“Can you turn on a light, illuminate our surroundings?” Lori asked, her voice full of dread.
The Watcher Craft’s running lights came on. Outside, there was just enough illumination to see that bodies were indeed floating everywhere. “There! Jill, and Tommy. Get us over to them, Hannig!” Lori ordered as she sprinted into the back compartment, shouting for everyone in there to head forward. Thirteen wide-eyed, frightened children were the first to stumble in.
Georgina shot me an alarmed, questioning look.
“We have to at least try, save as many as we can!” I said. “Hannig, close off the passageway after me,” I added as I sprinting aft. Mentally I’d started counting off the seconds—we were already close to twenty. I heard the passageway door slide shut.
Hannig’s voice filled the aft compartment, “We are there, amidst the bodies.”
Lori looked at me. “Get a good grip on something and take my arm.” Doing so, she slapped the hatch button and it slid open.
I’d hoped for a second, hell, a half-second, to ready myself for what was to come. Immediately, the aft compartment’s atmosphere sucked out in an explosive vooosh! Then Lori was gone in a blur out through the hatchway, as if shot out of a cannon. It was a miracle I didn’t let go of her as our clasped arms were pulled to nearly the breaking point.
And I wasn’t close to ready for the harsh conditions of deep space—the paralyzing effect on my physiology. My lungs burned as if filled with corrosive acid. My eyes bulged, and already I was suffocating. I honestly tried to move. Tried to push myself to help Lori. But then she was pulling an inert form in through the open hatch past me.
Weightless, Lori managed to kick off the nearest bulkhead, and somehow she was still capable of movement, now making another run out. But then she just stopped, her body suddenly looking as lifeless as the other form, which I could just barely discern was the child, Tommy.
As death’s dark cloak closed in around me within the quiet, muted darkness, I saw something. Movement. Suddenly, a small, brick-sized object was unfurling itself from its docking station upon the bulkhead. LOP moved with astonishing speed. I noticed, somehow, in my diminishing consciousness, that it had replaced its sixth missing appendage. As Lori had done just moment’s prior, the little spider robot shot outward from the back hatchway. I thought of Anna and my little angel, Val. I’d been a shitty husband and shitty father. Now it was too late to fix things. I’d never have the opportunity to say how sorry I truly was. And then I died.
I woke disoriented. And cold. And my head felt like it was going to explode. There was frantic commotion going on all around me. My surroundings were unfamiliar. My eyes closed, and blackness returned.
When I awoke the next time, my head was still hurting, but less so. Lying on my back, feeling groggy, I turned my head, and saw we were inside a large medical facility. A medical bay—perhaps on a spaceship. My mind could at least make that simple determination. Where is there a medical bay? The Retribution! Yes, Hannig had piloted the Watcher Craft back onto the Retribution and into the ship’s hospital. Horizontal metal racks—the equivalent of hospital beds, each easily ten feet long, and four feet wide, were situated all around the compartment in a semi-circle. Considering what I knew about Wikk and how they slept—all helter-skelter, heaped on top or one another—I thought it strange this medical bay would even have beds.
I saw Gordo directly across from me. My mind tried to wrap itself around what I was seeing. It was as if he was riding a bucking bronco. No, wait . . . he was perched atop someone on another bed. Straddling the body—giving it CPR. My breath caught in my chest—Oh God, was that Lori? Was Gordo trying to breathe life back into her lifeless body?
Unable to sit up, barely able to move, I looked away. There, on another bed I saw her—she was looking back at me. The faintest of smiles crossed her lips. Watching me, she knew I’d been concerned that it had been her lying dead, with Gordo fruitlessly trying to save her.
I now realized Lori was sharing her bed with another. Lying next to her was little Maddie. The young girl’s eyes were closed. Her skin had a bluish tint to it. My heart missed a beat. Was the little girl dead? Then, thankfully, her eyes opened, and she looked up at Lori.
“I got a pulse! I got a fucking pulse!” Gordo yelled while punching a fist into the air. Only now could I see that the inert person on the bed beneath him was Jill. I hoped her son was alive, too. I wondered how many lifeless people LOP had dragged back into the Watcher Craft. Who had survived, who was still out there, floating in that vast, cold darkness. My eyes grew heavy and, once more, the world around me faded to black.
Chapter 58
I awoke a second time, in a different hospital bed. I was still in the Retribution’s medical bay, but things were now far calmer. The lights had been dimmed. A number of the surrounding beds were filled. Other survivors. I could just barely make out Lori, sleeping in her bed across from me. Maddie was in the bed next to hers. Jill was there several over, but still no sign of Tommy.
Time to get myself up. I sat up and immediately regretted moving too fast. I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
“Easy there, Dommy.”
Out of the dark came Tito Caputo. He yawned as he approached. He shouldered his M4 by its strap before helping me down from the metal rack contraption designed for a far-larger Wikk body.
“Thanks . . . how long have I been out?”
“About eight hours. Hannig says you and Lori should make a full recovery.”
I looked around us. “Speaking of Hannig, where is he?”
“Everyone that isn’t in here is on the bridge.” Caputo’s expression turned serious. “That flying insect is still out there . . . somewhere. Figured it would be best to keep us all confined to the two compartments. Ya know . . . in case it decides to cause more havoc than it already has.” Caputo glanced about the medical bay. “Three thousand eight hundred and forty acres . . . this ship is immense, Dommy. That commander could be anywhere. Plotting her next move, another strike.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. Caputo was probably right. “Direct me to the bridge.”
He shook his head. “Oh yeah. Um, it’s a bit of a hike. Like two miles away. Yo
u up for it?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Still. It’s not safe wandering around this vessel. Here, take this, there’s another carbine by the entrance I can grab.” He gestured over to the way he’d come in. He walked me to the entrance. He looked as if he had something on his mind, something he wanted to say.
“What is it, Mr. Caputo?” I asked, giving the older man the respect of using his sir name.
The handsome mobster ran several fingers through his longish hair. “Just wondering what’s next. Where do things go for us from here?”
I thought about the Wikk. No way was this the end of things from their perspective. Then I thought about the Khantam Lom, and their involvement. I looked to Caputo. “Well, you’ve got a family to get back to, right?. And a business that needs its boss.”
“Boss . . .” he scoffed. “No, that’s your job. And you’ve been a good leader, Dommy.”
Again, I didn’t know what to say to that. “Anyway, I imagine the next step is getting the military up here. Maybe I’ll give that General Wright a call, debrief him and all that. Guess we’ve pretty much done what we set out to do for the time being. Completed our mission, don’t you think?” I said, offering up a crooked smile.
He nodded but didn’t look satisfied with my answer. “Yeah, imagine my wife’s pretty much pulling her hair out worrying about me.”
“And your kids.”
“Oh yeah. It’s just that . . . well . . . after all this. What we’ve been doing. You know, with our team. Maybe a bit hard to go back to things as they were.”
I shrugged. I couldn’t disagree. “You never know . . . maybe we’ll get the band back together one day.” I gestured to the entrance. “So I just head toward the bow?”
“That’s right.” Caputo grabbed up the M4 propped up against a bulkhead. He turned and headed back into the medical bay. He didn’t look back.
It took me close to an hour to walk the distance from the medical bay to the bridge. It would have been nice to have gotten a ride.
Guardian Ship Page 27
