Scrapyard LEGACY (Star Watch Book 6)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Dira glanced up, checking to see if he was serious. Noting he was, she asked, “Why? Should I be worried?”

  “Worried? No, but be prepared. He is one ruler who has experienced very few limitations in life … typically getting what he wants. And what he can’t acquire amiably, he takes with force, if necessary.”

  “Well, he can’t have me … I’m happily taken,” she said, pointing to the diamond ring Jason gave her when they first got engaged, several years earlier. “Are you sure he’s someone you want to go into business with, Omni?”

  “Anyone who’s as successful a leader as King Gallderaunt possesses certain aggressive traits. We’ll most certainly need to watch him. Keep our guard up. But right now, plusses far outweigh the minuses.”

  Halfway down the ramp, Dira regretted not wearing a shawl. The air was nippy, causing goosebumps to appear on her exposed arms and shoulders.

  “Here comes the trolley … it’ll be warmer inside,” the Omni said.

  The trolley, as the Omni had designated it, was a sleek, multi-car monorail affair. Snakelike, it silently wound its way closer through the jagged rocks—eventually coming to a gentle stop adjacent to the landing pad.

  The trolley’s doors slid open and the crowd of dignitaries, many holding on to cocktail glasses, stepped aboard. Looking around them now, she realized there were far more people there than in their own small clique from the Elegante. Passengers from other stops … other spacecraft. Although there was ample seating, the group remained standing. Vertical poles with hanging hand straps were strategically placed, and Dira took hold of one as the doors closed. The trolley began to move. Dira looked around the confined space and noticed a floor-to-ceiling portrait photograph lit by several overhead spotlights.

  “I’m assuming that is our illustrious King Gallderaunt?” she asked the Omni.

  “Yup. The one and only.”

  Dira almost cringed, studying the unabashed, brazen expression the king was presenting to fellow world passengers. She guessed he was middle-aged and supposed some females would find him rustically handsome and rugged. He wore a simple crown, and an elaborate animal skin cloak over what looked like an over-enhanced musculature leather breastplate. An abundance of reddish chest hair crested above the neckline. She found herself holding back a chuckle, glancing from the Omni’s small cloak to the king’s far more elaborate one. Seeing her bemused expression, the Omni said, “Don’t even go there, Dira.”

  She laughed out loud at that, covering her mouth with a hand. “I’ll take understated elegance over elaborate frockery any day, Omni.”

  “Uh huh. I think we’re almost there. Hold on … this thing comes to an abrupt stop, if I remember right.”

  * * *

  It was a short walk from the trolley depot to the barricaded gatehouse outside the castle. A mini version of the castle proper, it was sited on a circular rock island, with easily a thousand-foot drop around its circumference. Two drawbridges—one at its front and one at its back—led into the castle proper. Both were now secured down, allowing ingress. Torch poles, their ends ablaze, provided the only light to see by.

  “I feel like we’re stepping back into medieval times,” Dira said, her arms wrapped around her against the chilly evening air.

  Their footfalls reverberated on the thick wooden planks beneath their feet. Midway across the second drawbridge, Dira heard music coming from up ahead. Every so often, a loud voice, making some sort of statement, could also be heard, though she couldn’t make out what was actually said.

  The Omni said, “Ah … looks like they’re introducing the guests as they arrive.”

  She guessed there were close to thirty people bunched up ahead, waiting to be announced.

  It took another ten minutes before the Omni and Dira moved to the front of the line. Finally, she could feel some warmth emanating just beyond them. Up until that point she observed little as a tall woman wearing a feathered headpiece obstructed both her and the Omni’s view. Once the feathered lady’s name was announced, she descended a wide stone staircase.

  Next, the announcer’s voice echoed into the main room below: “Earth’s United States Fleet Omni, Perry Reynolds, and Princess Dira Caparri Reynolds …”

  Only then did Dira fully appreciate how immense the room before them was. Everything—walls, flooring, three fireplaces large enough to walk into—was made of stone. High up, perhaps one hundred feet above them, was a complex latticework of gargantuan wooden beams. Hanging down, suspended on thick chains, were six immense chandeliers, lit with hundreds of dancing, flickering flames.

  Holding on to the Omni’s arm, Dira descended the broad stone stairway. She figured there were close to a thousand people in that one room alone. Most were huddled in small groups of five to ten. The sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and background classical music only added to the festive ambiance. As they stepped onto the stone flooring, an elaborately costumed server approached them, balancing a tray holding numerous tall fluted glasses.

  “Princess Caparri Reynolds … Omni Reynolds, the king welcomes you. Tanganine?” he asked, bowing ever so delicately. Dira marveled at his ability to bow and balance the full tray simultaneously.

  Taking a glass, they thanked the server. Dira appraised the bubbly, crimson liquid.

  The Omni said, “When in Rome …” Then, taking a sip, he raised his brows in appreciation. “Not bad! Not bad at all.”

  She took a sip. It was good. In fact, great! It didn’t taste so different from champagne, only tangier … more citrusy.

  Some sort of commotion stirring at the far end of the room caused the surrounding ambient noise levels to change. Conversations hushed into murmurings as the guests quieted down. An official entourage of ten, or more, was moving across the room, and Dira realized they were heading directly toward her and the Omni.

  At the forefront of the moving procession was King Gallderaunt, who looked pretty much like the portrait exhibited on the trolley. Coming to a stop before them, she realized the portrait didn’t do his size justice. Towering like a rhino-warrior, he was maybe seven feet tall. A thick cloak from the hide of a leopard-like animal hung from his broad shoulders. Both arms—naked to the shoulder—revealed bulging biceps, accented by a simple hide strap tied around them. Dira averted her eyes away, only to find her gaze shifting to a bramble of red chest hair creeping above his leather breastplate. The musculature that she surmised to be faked in his portrait was obviously anything but. He was ripped to the point she felt herself gawking.

  King Gallderaunt moved in close, presenting his hand to the Omni. His lips pulled into a warm smile. “Ah, and there you are, Omni Reynolds! Earth—the United States and the Alliance fleet’s supreme commander. Our guest of honor has arrived!”

  The Omni returned his smile, inclining his head slightly to acknowledge the compliment. When they clasped hands, the Omni’s hand disappeared into his—becoming completely enveloped. Dira inwardly smiled, knowing what would come next. The king noticeably winced and the Omni feigned instant regret.

  What the king was unaware of was that all Star Watch personnel, at some point, were infused with millions upon millions of microscopic nanites. To suggest the recipients of such treatment had superhuman strength would somewhat be an exaggeration, but not by much. The Omni came armed with plenty of bluster, and a leveling of the playing field was now afoot.

  “King Gallderaunt … thank you for all this …” the Omni gestured around the huge room, and to the numerous interested onlookers. “You honor me, Earth, the U.S. fleet, and the Alliance.” Releasing the king’s hand, he half-turned toward Dira. “I would like to present Princess Caparri Reynolds, the fleet’s chief medical officer, as well as my daughter-in-law.”

  For the first time, the king acknowledged her presence, his eyes locking on to hers. Interesting, Dira thought, not naïve to her effect on the male gender. Her unique appearance—her curvy yet slender figure; the unusual color of her skin; and her elongated, natural eyelashes. B
ut the king’s eyes stayed affixed only on her eyes.

  “Princess Dira … it is a great honor to make your acquaintance. You may not know this, but I knew your father. A great king … a great leader, who left us far too early. I look forward to speaking with you further.” He then gestured to four strikingly beautiful Thorian women, standing two together, on either side. Bare-breasted, they wore no makeup, only rouge on their small breast nipples. She hadn’t noticed it before, but other females, too, in the crowded room were also bare-chested. Perhaps it was a fashion statement, one favored by the local Thorian Banal females? Or, possibly, a strict discipline, mandated by a chauvinistic monarchy?

  When the king again spoke, she brought her attention back to him.

  “Omni Reynolds … Princess Caparri, this is my son, Prince Lhore Gallderaunt.”

  The younger Thorian, though not as tall as his father, was equally broad in the shoulders, and just as muscular. He stepped forward, ignoring the Omni completely, and reached for Dira’s hand. Bringing it to his lips—his eyes focused on hers—he brushed his lips across her knuckles. Still holding her palm in his, his gaze then traveled downward, lingering on her breast cleavage. With a one-sided grin, a guttural sound erupted from his throat. Leaning in toward her, bringing his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, “You are the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Ever. Know this … Princess Caparri … I will have you. Either willingly, or by force, I will make you mine.” He straightened, releasing her hand, and smiled cordially.

  Dira glanced over to the Omni, her eyes speaking volumes: What the hell have you gotten me into?

  Sensing her distress, inner rage flashed onto the Omni’s face, but before he could say or do anything a Thorian knight approached them in seeming urgency. Apologizing for the interruption, and leaning in, he spoke quietly to the king with obvious excitement. Dira, who had excellent hearing, tried to maintain a neutral expression as she listened in to the king’s hushed conversation. Her attention piqued when she heard of an impending planetary system attack—had she heard the word Sol? She was fairly certain she had. Tuning in again, the king was given news of his nephews … and then, Aquarius. Yes—most definitely, the knight was referring to the Star Watch vessel, the Aquarius.

  Chapter 8

  Jason hurried into his captain’s quarters, needing to listen to his nano-messages and see what Boomer was up to. Upon entering the suite, he found Michael asleep on the deck, Alice next to him, also asleep. One of her six paws lay across his chest. No doubt, they’d worn each other out. Truly, a match made in heaven.

  He moved directly into the adjacent ready room and sat down at his desk. The AI interface came alive, and he quickly scanned the projected 3D display. There were thirty-six unread nano-messages waiting for him. Ricket had assured him that reviewing the stored messages in this manner, versus accepting a direct, incoming nano-hail, would be safe and would avoid any further contracting, in either direction, of the Ingress Virus.

  Wading past the minutia of fleet correspondences—crewmember leave requests, maintenance alerts, as well as new Star Watch dispatch orders—Jason decided they would all have to wait until he had time to deal with them separately. But that time wasn’t now. He found the latest message from Boomer, flagged as urgent. Since he’d spoken to Dira just before she left for the Sommis of Adriark, he wasn’t surprised not to find a new message from her there.

  He selected the video message from Boomer and then before him, his daughter’s projected 3D representation appeared. Able to determine what was going on behind her, Jason noticed she was seated at the controls of the Stellar, his once personal space yacht.

  “Dad … where are you? I’m just leaving Loma city, on Harpaign. Need some time amongst my own kind. Nothing against the Blues … but … well … I just miss everybody. Hey, I got a strange message from Dira. She’s looking for you. Anyway, I’ll be back to the Sol System shortly, and I’ll track you down when I get there. Um… maybe you can find a crew position for me on the Jumelle? Pretty please!”

  The vid-message froze on Boomer’s smiling face. Apparently, she was not aware he had swapped ships with the Omni. At that moment, he realized how much he missed her. Now nineteen, over the last few years she’d spent most of her time on Harpaign. A Tahli warrior, much of her life revolved around the Kahill Callan spiritual practices. As a Kahill Callan Master, she taught ancient martial arts—the best usage of the enhancement shield—to both younger and older Blues students.

  He really wanted to hail Dira. He didn’t wish to spread the Ingress Virus to her. That and she was well out of NanoCom range, anyway.

  “Captain, your presence is requested on the bridge,” the AI announced.

  Two minutes later, Jason entered the bridge. “What is it? What’s happening?”

  Ricket said, “Long-range sensors, Captain, show a fleet, its origin unknown, possibly en route to the Sol System.”

  Jason looked up at the logistical feed on the display, which presented an expanded view of Alliance space—depicting all its multiple sectors. A symbolic red blob could be seen, just now encroaching into Allied space.

  “I will zoom in,” Ricket said, seated at the tactical board. The display feed, now refreshed, showed the same red blob, only greatly enhanced. Jason noted there were hundreds of individual icons, warships, traveling in a tight formation.

  “What makes you think they are headed for Sol?” Jason asked.

  The display, refreshed, now showed several multi-colored vector lines, spanning vast spatial distances across space.

  “According to the Parcical’s AI, those lines are the best-guess course trajectories based on that fleet’s current headings. As you can see, all vector lines lead to Sol,” Ricket said.

  “Reverse the course trajectories … show the best-guess fleet’s starting point,” Jason said.

  The display feed again refreshed. Now, the multicolored vectors indicated the fleet’s point of origin, instead. Jason blew a breath out through puffed cheeks. Wherever they’d first departed from was, obviously, a far distance outside of Allied space.

  Ricket said, “The fleet originated from the Sommis of Adriark.”

  Jason stared back at Ricket. “That’s not good,” thinking of Dira and his father. “So … what? We’ve been conned?” he asked. “I need to talk to Dira and the Omni.” His voice sounded remarkably calm, considering all the anxiety now building up within him.

  “More like outsmarted,” Billy said, entering the bridge.

  Jason observed Bristol, seated at the comms console, busy doing something. “What’s up with us finding a way to communicate, without spreading the damn virus?”

  Bristol didn’t look up. “Well, our attempt to protect, isolate, the other Star Watch ships is no longer an issue … they all have it.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I wrote a short program. A hack, that basically sent out a nano-hail to all U.S. fleet vessels that utilizes Caldurian technology. It did not allow for an actual comms connection … an open channel … to be made. Instead, it embedded a small, remotely accessible module. Put it right there … on the receiving-end com-interface.” Bristol glanced up at the display when a new feed segment was added. Approximately three thousand bright blue symbols now appeared, at various points, within the constraints of Alliance space.

  “The blue icons with a green circle around them are Star Watch ships.”

  Jason noticed ten such encircled icons.

  “Now the blue icons you see, the ones with orange circles around them, are ships that possess either some, or minimal, levels of Caldurian tech,” Bristol added.

  Jason took in the information. The Star Watch ships were, for the most part, right where they were supposed to be—positioned strategically within designated Alliance space districts. Typically, districts held multiple planetary systems within them. The number of U.S. fleet and Alliance warships was vast.

  “Now I’ll show you which ships my little hack program tell
s me are infected,” Bristol said. One by one, the blue icons—those with both red and green circles around them—turned yellow, revealing that only a handful of ships were free of the virus. All Star Watch ships were infected—nearly all U.S. fleet ships were, at least somewhat, infected.

  Jason spun around to look at Ricket. “Are you all telling me that Star Watch, for the most part, is no longer capable of defending Allied space?”

  The Craing man slowly nodded his head. “I am afraid so, Captain. Each infected Star Watch ship will face the same issues the Parcical is facing now: unreliable defensive shields and phase-shift technology that is no longer available to us.”

  Billy said, “So what? The U.S. fleet has thousands of warships at its disposal … old Craing light and heavy cruisers, also Dreadnaughts. And don’t forget the nearly one thousand newer Sahhrain Vastma-class warships we commandeered several years back …”

  “Are you going to tell him, or should I?” Bristol asked Ricket.

  Ricket said, “Unfortunately, all the vessels you just mentioned, Billy, were retrofitted with superior, Caldurian-technology, shields.”

  The display feed refreshed again. Now, the thousands of blue icons yielding yellow circles around them became visible among the Allied warship icons.

  Billy stared at Jason. “We’re so screwed.”

  Chapter 9

  Michael awoke to Alice’s big wet tongue, slathering his face with sticky wet saliva. He laughed while pushing her away. “Get back! That’s disgusting!” Using his sleeve to dry his face, he sat up and looked around the captain’s quarters. “Hello? Dad?” There was no answer. “AI … where is my father?”

  “Captain Reynolds is currently on the bridge. Shall I contact him for you?”

  Michael, noticing Alice’s pacing back and forth in front of the entrance hatch, replied, “No … I think Alice needs to go out and pee.” He stood up, then hurried down the passageway, disappearing into one of the suite’s heads. After relieving himself, he returned. “Okay girl … it’s your turn.” They left the captain’s quarters together.