Space Chase (Star Watch Book 5)

by McGinnis,Mark Wayne

  “I need to go to the bathroom … get cleaned up.”

  Brent looked at Wendy. “Go down the hall. Come right back.”

  Ryan watched Wendy get up and head for the small hallway, which led to a single bedroom and, he guessed, a bathroom directly across from it.

  Larry was up, moving around the table and stacking his brother’s pie pans. This was one strange-looking family. Brent seemed the most normal. Larry looked like Larry from early days Three Stooges fame. Uncanny, he was bigger and brawnier, but his hair was a dead ringer for the old idiot-playing stooge. Payne, big and brutish, almost never spoke. He had a perpetual Elvis-like snarl on his face, perhaps due to some kind of early years mining accident. Orloff, though, was another story completely. Sure, he had the Picket family looks—but the craziness in the eyes was always present. Too expressionless, too disconnected from what was going on around him.

  They all stood and moved toward the tiny kitchen on the opposite side of the main room. Ryan watched as they huddled together and spoke in low tones. Larry, and then Payne, glanced over in his direction. Orloff didn’t look up until Wendy returned from the bathroom, his eyes lingering on her.

  Her face was clean and she’d done something with her hair. Perhaps she’d found a comb in there? “What’s happening with them?” she asked Ryan, gesturing with her chin.

  “I don’t know.”

  “This is hopeless … ” she said, her eyes growing moist.

  “No … this is an abduction, not a murder. Why feed someone you’re going to kill?”

  Wendy looked up at Ryan, her face as serious as he’d ever seen. “Orloff killed Two-ton and Olivia.”

  “I know,” Ryan said.

  “He … did things to them. Mounted—”

  Ryan placed a finger on her lips. “I know … I saw.”

  “Promise me something,” Wendy said—pleading.

  “What?”

  “You won’t let him take me; do to me what he did to our friends. Swear to me you’ll kill me before you’ll let that happen to me.”

  “It’s not … that’s not going to happen.”

  “Promise me!”

  He stared back at her for long seconds—her eyes locked on his. Not answering, he merely nodded. Off in the distance he heard the sound of turbine engines and smiled.

  She furrowed her brow, “What is that … who is that …?”

  Ryan said, “Two-ton … sort of.”

  CHAPTER 43

  “Who the hell is that?” Brent asked. “Who else is on the planet besides us?” He looked at Orloff, then stared at Ryan and Wendy.

  Ryan shrugged. “You’re asking me? Ask your crazy brother … he lives here, not us.”

  Orloff looked out the grimy window toward the central valley and said, “It has to be the robot. It’s one I’ve been meaning to repair … from the scrap pile.”

  Larry said, “What robot? There’s a robot out there? And it has a vehicle?”

  Orloff, ignoring Larry, turned to Brent. “It somehow got reactivated once delivery boy arrived here. I thought I had … disabled it near the campsite. It shouldn’t have been operational after that.”

  “Terrific,” Brent said, looking out the window as well. “So what are we talking about here? Just your basic mechanical toaster, or something we should be worried about?”

  All eyes turned to Ryan. “It’s your basic toaster. I’m actually surprised it figured out how to drive that sand crawler. It’ll probably drive around in circles for days, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Coming from you, that means the opposite,” Brent said. “It’s not armed, is it? You didn’t leave a smart robot out there with a weapon, did you? Did you, Orloff?”

  Orloff’s face flushed. “Not one that’s … operational.”

  “What the hell does that mean … operational? Like it’s an old television set? What weapon are we talking about here?”

  “I dropped the 50 cal. Crashed down on the rocks from the butte. It was wrecked … bent up and all. I left it at the campsite.”

  Ryan watched them as they argued back and forth, while keeping his ear tuned to the approaching sound of turbines.

  “Somehow that robot was smart enough to repair itself but you don’t think it can fix a fucking rifle?” Brent asked.

  Orloff, placing both hands on hips, glared defiantly back at Brent. “I don’t understand how the robot could fix itself. It’s a Tromian mecher … those things are a joke. It could no more fix itself than Larry could count to one hundred.”

  Good one, Orloff! Ryan thought. As long as they kept arguing amongst themselves, he and Wendy were not the center of attention and could keep breathing.

  Everyone stopped jabbering when the not-so-distant sound of turbine engines suddenly ceased.

  “Enough!” Brent spat. “Larry and Payne … get out there and destroy that robot. Take the Tavor and grab whatever else you need from the armory.”

  Ryan and Wendy looked at each other. Armory? He figured it was probably located in one of the outbuildings; maybe even below ground—like a silo.

  The two brothers hurried out the front door. Brent strode over to the couch and roughly grabbed Ryan by the arm. “Get up!”

  Wendy moved to also stand.

  “No. You stay right where you are. Orloff … watch her. Make sure she doesn’t so much as twitch her nose.”

  “You can’t leave her with him. You know he’s a psycho … right? You know what he does to … to his victims, right?”

  Brent said, “He’s not going to touch her. Are you, Orloff?” His glare at his younger brother was anything but friendly.

  Orloff sat down at the opposite end of the couch then looked at Wendy. “We’ll just sit here and chat.”

  Brent pulled Ryan toward the door. Looking back at Orloff, he queried, “Comms up and running in the tanker?”

  Orloff shook his head. “No, but it’s a switch, on the overhead console, tagged comms main.”

  “I’ll find it.”

  Ryan said, “Why don’t you let Wendy come with us?”

  Manhandling Ryan through the door, Brent replied, “This way you’ll be good … won’t try anything stupid.”

  * * *

  Ryan hadn’t been inside the tanker’s cockpit before. After being ushered through the tanker’s lower level, then up the stairs and down the long passageway into Orloff’s bedroom, they ascended another small flight of stairs. Brent pushed Ryan into the ship’s control center. It was small, a tad bigger than the cockpit in the van.

  “Sit down, kid,” Brent said, shoving Ryan into what he surmised was the primary pilot’s seat. Feeling sunken indentations in the leather beneath his butt cheeks, he was somewhat grossed out, knowing that this was where Orloff typically sat. He watched as Brent, looming next to him, scoured the upper control panel. There seemed to be hundreds of tiny switches and small display screens, plus various types of meters. Holding out his index finger, Brent traced the surface back and forth.

  “It’s over there,” Ryan said. “The one tagged Comms Main.”

  Brent followed the direction of Ryan’s finger and eventually found it. “Here we go. I see it.” He flicked it on. A third of the upper console lit up, springing to life. He sat down and looked over at Ryan. “She’s going to want proof of life.”

  “She? She who?”

  “Don’t play stupid, Ryan. Till now I’ve been amiable. That could easily change.”

  Ryan had minimum doubt that the hulk-like, six-foot-five mountain man could inflict serious damage on him.

  “Your aunt. We need her to do us a simple favor. After that … you’ll be set free.”

  “And Wendy, too?” Ryan asked.

  “Of course … we’re not animals. This is just business.”

  “Tell that to your brother.”

  Brent ignored the comment, placing his attention back on the communications equipment. Then glancing at Ryan, he instructed, “Don’t say anything extra … just tell her you’re fine. U
nderstand?”

  “Yup.”

  Ryan watched as he hailed a spaceship called the Parcical, spoke first to a Seaman Gordon, and then talked to a female named Orion.

  “This is important … patch me through to her or her nephew dies,” Brent ordered. He looked at Ryan and shook his head, implying he hadn’t really meant what he’d just said.

  Close to a minute passed before Ryan heard a familiar voice. “This is Nan Reynolds. Who is it I’m speaking with?”

  Brent held up a hand to stifle Ryan from speaking. “Well, hello there, Nan. Good to hear your voice again.”

  “Where’s Ryan? I want to speak with him.”

  “I know you do. And that can be arranged … easily arranged. But you have to do my family a little favor first.”

  “I talk to Ryan first … that’s the deal.”

  Brent rolled his eyes and looking at Ryan, nodded his head.

  Ryan leaned forward, and spoke, “Aunt Nan? This is Ryan …”

  “Oh God, are you okay … have they hurt you?”

  “No, I’m fine. Look, I’m here on the planet with Wend—”

  “That’s enough, kid!” Brent said, shoving Ryan back hard into the seat.

  “What do you say we talk a little business now, ex-Madam President? As you’ve just heard, your nephew is alive and well. As you know, we need certain mining rights fast-tracked through Alliance bureaucracy. I’m talking about exclusive DM2 mining rights for one small section of the Oort cloud. It’s no big deal. We don’t want to be greedy; let’s say a thirty-year exclusivity contract.”

  “Since I’m no longer the president, you’re assuming I have more influence than I actually have.”

  “Well, if that’s the case we have nothing more to talk about. You’re of no use to me.”

  “Wait … what makes you think I’d keep my end of the bargain, anyway?” Nan asked.

  “Excellent question. Provisions in the contract will be very specific. We have an excellent high-priced lawyer. You didn’t expect it to be something Mamma jotted down on a scrap of paper there in Dollywood, did you? No, this contract will be ironclad and recognized by the Alliance’s regional regulatory commission. Don’t worry, we know exactly who needs to approve it and to sign what. How to ensure that everything is legally binding. And one more thing … there will be clauses … total immunity for the Picket family. The paperwork was sent to you, care of your place in Colorado.”

  “A process like this could take weeks … months!” Nan exclaimed, clearly frustrated.

  “You have two days. If not, we move to our plan B.”

  “What plan B?”

  “You don’t want to know. You’re comms officer now has a means to contact me. If you want to see your nephew again alive, then get everything buttoned up tight within forty-eight hours. Now, say goodbye to your nephew.”

  “Stay brave, Ryan … I love you—”

  Brent cut the connection. Ryan knew his aunt. She was an amazing woman. And she was married to the famed Captain Reynolds. But he couldn’t believe they’d ever allow themselves be blackmailed. And, with that thought in mind, rescue from this protected planet seemed nearly impossible. No, if he and Wendy were going to survive, he’d have to become highly resourceful.

  Weaponry fire suddenly erupted outside the tanker. Ryan wondered if Two-ton had actually repaired Orloff’s rifle? He next wondered if the robot also knew how to shoot?

  CHAPTER 44

  Between dodging asteroid after asteroid in a variable minefield, Jason listened in to Nan and Brent’s conversation. He’d been navigating through the maelstrom for less than thirty minutes, and he was already having serious second thoughts about his decision. The Pacesetter was performing as he thought it would—with precision and finesse. But the intense level of constant concentration required of him was beginning to take a toll.

  Up ahead, he saw a much tighter cluster of asteroids—too tight to maneuver around. No way we’re going through there.

  Nan screamed, “Jason! Look! On the … the … right! … Big rocks headed our way!”

  “I see them.” In desperation, Jason called up a HUD targeting solution for the rail gun, which he figured would be far more effective than using plasma fire. He felt the big weapon spin to life beneath the craft’s nose. Immediately, a spray of projectiles that would explode on impact was unleashed upon the large asteroid cluster. Since this was a Caldurian vessel, the rail gun utilized JIT munitions, via an access back at the Jumelle’s phase-synthesizer unit. Jason knew he had an endless supply of ammunition at his disposal.

  The asteroids exploded into rubble. The Pacesetter next plowed through a cloud of fist-size remnants—almost like driving through a Midwest hailstorm back on Earth. The clattering sound of rocks, hitting against the outside fuselage, was beyond intense. Jason increased power to the shields, hoping the move was enough to avert disaster.

  Nan said, “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all, Jason.”

  He didn’t disagree. He silently chided himself for attempting such a foolhardy mission—for putting Nan’s life in such danger. Hell, she was the mother of three children—including a five-year-old little boy—who very well might grow up without a mother—or a father.

  The rail-gun continued firing non-stop, propagating ahead a devastating swath of destruction. Exhausted, Jason found he was spending less time maneuvering around obstacles than simply letting the rail-gun do his bidding for him.

  A warning message flashed up onto the Pacesetter’s HUD. The rail-gun was overheating. Even though an endless supply of projectiles streamed in from the multiverse—that didn’t mean the laws of physics with the here and now didn’t still play a part.

  He switched over to the two-wing-mounted plasma cannons, letting the rail-gun cool down. Immediately, the results came back, which determined they were far less effective. Jason found he needed to step up his navigating game once again.

  “How much farther?” Nan asked.

  “Hold on!” He jockeyed the space fighter through a cluster of spinning ice rocks—each one moving at a different speed than the one next to it. He heard first—then felt—the portside wing scrape against the last ice rocks in the group. But a quick glance to his left ensured him the wing was still intact. He knew the hull’s multiple layers of nanites were already at work repairing the damage.

  “Did you hear me?” Nan asked.

  “Yeah … a little busy up here. But to answer your question, we’re not even a third of the way through this nightmare.”

  That quieted her down for several minutes. Then she said, “Maybe we should turn back. I love my nephew, but little Michael … he needs parents.”

  “A little late for that now, Nan. Turning around in this mess would be near impossible anyway.”

  A NanoCom hail was coming in. “Go for Captain; too busy to talk now, Ricket.” He cut the connection and swerved around the largest asteroid yet. This time, the starboard wing was scraped against ice and rock. Another hail was coming in. “What is it, Ricket!”

  “Sorry, Captain. I’ve been watching your progress through the asteroids—”

  “Just get to the point!” Jason barked, as he cranked the controls, first one way then the other.

  “Captain, I’ve calculated a navigable passageway. One the Pacesetter can autopilot through … all the way to the planet.”

  “How certain are you … that it … will work?”

  “I’m positive. It’s how others traverse their way to the planet. I’m only sorry it took me so long to calculate the millions of asteroid coordinates in conjunction with a valid flight plan.”

  “Well, stop jabbering about it, Ricket, and get it uploaded!”

  Two seconds elapsed. “It is done, Captain.”

  Jason saw the newly added flight package waiting for him on the HUD menu. He hesitated before selecting it, but truthfully, he had no other choice. He was both physically and mentally spent. He engaged the new flight package, sat back, and squeezed his clos
ed eyes tight and held his breath. He waited for the impact—a collision with an asteroid the size of a locomotive—certain death for him and for Nan.

  A moment passed. He opened one eye not knowing what to expect. The Pacesetter had picked up speed; was maneuvering around objects with a graceful fluidity that brought a smile to his face. Amazing! He let himself breathe, then craned his head around enough to see Nan, seated quietly behind him. She looked back at him wide-eyed. She too was smiling.

  “Are we going to live through this?” she asked.

  “I think so … thanks to our little Craing friend.” He turned back around and hailed Ricket.

  “Go for Ricket.”

  “Thank you, Ricket … sorry I yelled at you.”

  “It’s quite understandable, Captain. The fact that you manually navigated that far into the asteroid field went far beyond the odds of your surviving.”

  “Well … that’s something … anyway. What’s the ETA for reaching the planet?”

  “About an hour and a half, Captain.”

  “Good. Maybe by then my hands will stop shaking.” He cut the connection, sat back, and quickly fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 45

  Orloff had some big decisions to make. Potentially life-altering choices there would be no coming back from. He stared across the open room—out through the smudged window—at his prized ship, which seemed nothing more than a shapeless, dark-brown form from his vantage point on the couch. Brent and the kid were out there taking care of business. Business that he was no longer interested in. Perhaps if he’d continued taking his prescribed regimen of pills … meds that deadened him inside. No. He’d rather live his life his own way, pursuing interests that gave his days and nights meaning. What else was there worth living for?

  He’d come to terms with the fact the deliveryman—boy—was now under the protection of his brothers. Perhaps someday he’d get the opportunity to restart the pursuit, once things calmed down. He turned his gaze back on Wendy. What an incredible creature. Her features were small and delicate, her skin unblemished. It wasn’t too late for her—not by any means. The real crime would be letting such magnificence get stolen away through the ravages of time. He suddenly felt the heavy weight of his conscience. His obligation. If not him … then who?