Scrapyard LEGACY (Star Watch Book 6)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  His thoughts turned to the other Star Watch vessel—the Jumelle—another incredible vessel—but one he didn’t quite have command over yet. The last time he checked, there’d been little progress made in breaching the ship’s nanite-infused hull. The ship’s physical integrity must not be compromised since his technicians had neither the time nor expertise to make complicated repairs—especially now that Granger was on the run. He was well aware that the Jumelle’s crew might try to follow the example of the Aquarius—attempt to make a run for it—something he could not allow to happen. Soon, similar to his plans for the Aquarius, he would disrupt the Jumelle’s propulsion system with the latest piggyback Ingress Virus—just as soon as the mess in here was cleaned up and his coding warriors could recommence with their work.

  Ah … good. He watched as no less than ten similarly dressed technicians, wearing black overalls, filed into the room. On call day and night, transported from Xavier Station 35 down to the surface of Thorian Banal, they carried large toolboxes, an assortment of containers, along with various types of networking equipment that Lord Digby had little clue what they were used for.

  One of the technicians, yawning and looking disheveled—perhaps roused out of a deep sleep within the last hour—approached. “Um … Lord Digby, I take it?”

  “That is correct. Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.”

  “I’m Supervisor Addrison Golderon.” Then, gesturing toward the wrecked servers, he said, “Far more damage has been done here than I ever expected to see. You do know that these servers are basically scrap metal at this point, don’t you?”

  “Yes … that is obvious. You will instruct your team to bypass these connections and instead tie into our redundant secondary servers up on the space station.”

  Golderon continued to study the back of the room. “That’ll take us a few days. We’ll need to—”

  Digby raised a palm to stop him. “Supervisor Addrison Golderon, you will have those connections made in no less than two hours. My people will be returned by then and ready to work.” Lord Digby’s face remained impassive. “I’m sure you are familiar with Bastille Spire, yes? It’s not a pleasant place. It’s not a place you would want your wife and three children to live out the rest of their lives … am I correct in that assumption?”

  The supervisor’s face lost all color. He nodded, looking as if he’d forgotten how to speak. Eventually the words came out, his voice several octaves higher: “Yes, sir … we will get it done. We will get you up and running immediately.”

  Contemplating his own situation, Lord Digby gestured the technician off and stood up. With his arms crossed over his chest, he wandered out through the double doors into the open vestibule. He heard the sounds of guards scurrying about, searching the castle’s many corridors and passageways for the naked alien. He smiled briefly but then became more serious. Yes, there had been a few setbacks, but nothing so catastrophic that they couldn’t be easily remedied. As for the destroyed servers—very little data had actually been lost thanks to the backups … and the backups of the backups—kept offsite. The king’s fleet of Vicksol ST66 warships was en route to the Sol System. Once there, the enemy’s massive fleet, which was now practically defenseless, would be confronted. The U.S. Fleet—the Alliance—soon would fall. No, these few hiccups would not disrupt his plans.

  Two guards were cresting the stairs, with an unconscious Omni Perry Reynolds held upright between them.

  “Deliver him to the vault,” Digby ordered. He watched as the guards continued to semi-drag the prisoner down the corridor. Two doors further down, one of the guards shifted the Omni’s dead weight onto the other guard, while he used one of the many metal keys on an iron ring to unlock then open a sturdy-looking metal door. Together, they dragged the prisoner inside and out of sight.

  Digby would give them time to get the Omni suitably situated before joining them.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes had come and gone. Dira was a no-show. Orion paced the Jumelle’s bridge.

  Army Ranger Sergeant Gail Stone, sitting with her feet propped up on the helm’s console, asked, “So what are we going to do? We going to blow this popsicle-stand, or stay and start a fight?”

  Before Orion could answer Master Sergeant Blatt entered the bridge.

  “Commander Orion…” he said, coming to a halt and quickly appraising the near-empty bridge.

  “So the hull’s integrity is still holding up okay?” Orion asked him.

  “Yes, ma’am. They’ve been at it nonstop for hours. They’ve gone from trying to drill through the hull to, more recently, using varied forms of small explosives.”

  Orion thought about that. “You’re still able to watch them … through external ship optics?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Let me ask you this then, have you noticed any changes in personnel?”

  Blatt looked off, as though searching his memory. “No … it’s still the same gang of fifteen to twenty workers.”

  “After working so many hours, you’d think there’d be a shift change, wouldn’t you? A fresh team coming in to finish the job.”

  “That would make sense,” Blatt replied.

  She scanned her surroundings. Somehow the bridge seemed larger than normal. She’d dismissed the crew to return to their quarters ever since the Jumelle was berthed. But Stone had stuck around anyway. Orion said, “Damn … all this technology and we can’t even implement a simple close-range sensor scan. I want to know what we’re really up against out there.”

  Blatt said, “Xavier Station 35 is nearly twice the size of our own Liberty Station, Commander. Liberty maintains close to a thousand active Marines at all times. I wouldn’t be surprised if a station like this provides a security force with twice that many. I’d put my one hundred Sharks up against any force in the sector, but up against two thousand …”

  “But we’re only guessing, aren’t we, Master Sergeant?” Orion cut in. “We haven’t actually verified how many are on this station today.” Orion studied the wraparound display—past the station itself to distant space beyond. Glancing at the helm, she asked, “Stone … what do you see out there?”

  “An ultra-modern, gleaming white, space station. This ugly planet, Thorian Banal, and more stars than I could count in twenty lifetimes.”

  “What are you not seeing?” Orion asked, addressing both Stone and Blatt now.

  The two looked out to space and for several moments neither one spoke.

  Finally Stone responded, “Commerce … other spaceships, both coming and going.”

  “Yeah, it’s almost freakishly motionless out there,” Orion said. “I’m so used to relying on my tactical board to supply me information that I forgot to use my own two eyes to check out the obvious.”

  “We already know that the Sommis of Adriark has a substantial fleet of Vicksol warships. They are a well-armed adversary,” Blatt said.

  “Yeah, but two years ago, who even heard of this place? The planet down there … it’s small, and even from here I can tell there are limited metropolitan areas. Compare it to Earth, which … at a similar distance to this one … is lit up like a Christmas tree.”

  “What are you saying, Commander? You can’t have it both ways. It’s either a conquering empire or it’s a small, two-bit, wannabe,” Stone said.

  “Maybe not,” Blatt said. “Sommis of Adriark space now encompasses an enormous amount of spatial territory within the sector, that’s for sure. But I don’t see these invaders having the same capabilities today that the Craing Empire had years back before being enveloped into the Alliance. There, once they conquered a territory, they immediately put its citizenry to work … forced into slave-like conditions to serve the greater purpose of the Craing Empire. The Craing were smart enough to know that their substantial resources would eventually become limited, not forgetting a logistical nightmare.”

  “So you’re saying Lord Digby could be in over his head? That his quest for power has co
me up against his ability to adequately maintain and protect his newly acquired spatial holdings? And that now he’s left his home base inadequately protected?” Stone asked.

  “Remember, he was counting on having two Star Watch vessels take up, assume, that onus,” Orion said, with the beginnings of a smile. “We already know this guy Digby is crazy smart. His technological virus has incapacitated two Star Watch vessels, and probably others in the U.S. and Alliance fleets. God knows how many other interstellar assets he’s conquered over the past few years. Perhaps it’s exactly how he prevailed over his adversaries. You don’t need to have the biggest fighting force on the block, if you’ve completely crippled your opponent’s power structure beforehand.”

  A light suddenly flashed across the compartment, followed by a repeating tone. Stone got up, hurrying to the comms console. “Looks like our comms are back up, and we’ve got an incoming hail. She turned to Orion and said, “Speak of the devil!”

  “Lord Digby?”

  “Yup … shall I put him on screen?”

  “Go ahead, let’s see what he has to say.”

  A new video feed segment flew into position in the front of the wraparound. Orion’s breath caught in her chest. She heard both Stone and Blatt gasp as well. Omni Perry Reynolds, sitting upright in a chair, was nearly unrecognizable—his eyes no more than purple swollen slits. A trickle of blood could be seen flowing down his right nostril and someone, out of view, was holding on to a fistful of the Omni’s hair.

  The feed zoomed just enough out that they now could see Lord Digby too, seated next to and slightly behind the injured Omni. Orion noted he looked far more serious than he had earlier. Tugging on the Omni’s hair to bring his chin up and to extend his vulnerable neck forward, Digby revealed the knife he held grasped in his other hand. Reaching over, he brought the knife’s blade up to the Omni’s neck. Blood immediately began to drip as the blade made contact.

  Lord Digby said, “Commander Orion, so good to see you awake at such an ungodly hour.” He then looked down at the captive before him. “As you can see, Omni Reynolds is not feeling quite himself. He may have taken a tumble, or two, since his arrival here.” He stared hard at Orion. “Open your starboard aft hatch. Do it now, or I will cut this fine officer’s throat and let him bleed out before your eyes.”

  Chapter 27

  Jason waited for Admiral Mayweather. He had been told he was dealing with multiple issues and that it may be a while. Close to an hour had passed when Ryan signaled toward the wraparound display.

  “He’s coming online now, Captain,” Ryan said.

  Jason rose from the captain’s chair and acknowledged the weary-looking man staring back at him on the display feed. “Admiral?”

  “Captain, you’ll need to make this quick. We’re just now getting word that the enemy fleet has entered the Oort Cloud.” The admiral, noticeably distracted, then began conversing with one of his nearby junior officers.

  Jason already knew as much. The Oort Cloud, farther beyond the Kuiper Belt, at the edge of the solar system, was vast and estimated to hold trillions of various-sized asteroids and similar space objects—including the origin points of many long-existing comets, with orbits up to a thousand years.

  “Yes, sir, we’ve been tracking the enemy fleet ourselves. They’re well into Vanguard’s Breach.” Historically, Vanguard’s Breach, the location of the Sol System and Earth’s most devastating attack years earlier by the Craing Admiral Ot-Mul, had become the ingress and egress journeying point into the planetary system, used extensively by both commerce and military vessels.

  “Then you already know I have but a limited time to speak with you,” the admiral said.

  “Then let me get right to the point, Admiral. We … well, two of my officers—have come up with a means to counteract the virus.”

  That got the admiral’s attention. “Say that again, Captain.”

  “We have a fix … an antidote, if you will, that’s been tested on the Parcical, to a limited degree. It seems to be working. Our weapons, and other systems too, have come back online. I believe we have the means to also get the rest of the fleet operational, as well.”

  “Son, you need to move that vessel pronto to the front lines. With your father out of the loop, I’m ordering you to comply … immediately.”

  “That’s not a wise decision, Admiral. The thing is … the antidote must be administered onsite … ship by ship.”

  “That’ll have to wait. Let’s get the Parcical to a place it can do the most good.”

  “I’m telling you where it will do the most good … getting the rest of Star Watch operational again. We’ll be heading out of the Sol System within the hour.”

  “I beg your pardon, Captain Reynolds. I’ve just given you a direct order.”

  The admiral’s steely stare, which probably worked well on his Liberty Station subordinates, had little effect on Jason, once being Admiral Mayweather’s superior—the U.S. fleet Omni. The same position his father now held. Jason relinquished his command for one simple reason: He hated being an administrator. He was far better suited to be a Star Watch captain, typically in the thick of things, and positioned where the action was. But that didn’t deter him from maintaining his excellent perspective on current affairs, both militarily and politically—dealings of the highest order. His father, understanding and appreciating his son’s instincts, routinely sought Jason’s counsel on such matters.

  “Admiral … let’s not forget who hired you for your job. And let’s also not forget who brought the Caldurian ships, now called Star Watch, into the U.S. fleet. So do me a favor, Mayweather, just take a deep breath and listen to a bit of logic before you start coming unhinged, okay?” Jason, noticing Ryan discreetly positioning the palm of his hand over his mouth, could tell he was smiling, nevertheless. Ricket, sitting at the tactical station, glanced up briefly, then went back to whatever he was doing. By now, Ricket was well acquainted with Jason’s unique command style.

  “As powerful a warship as the Parcical is, Admiral, she cannot go up against a fleet of Vicksol ST66 and other large warships … estimated to be close to two hundred in all. It would be a senseless act and one you would spend the rest of your life trying to justify, should you even survive the coming repercussions for not following my suggestions.”

  Red-faced, looking ready to suffer an embolism any moment, the admiral obviously was unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a frank manner. Too bad. Jason continued, “I know you want to do the right thing … so listen to me carefully. As soon as we break this connection, you’re going to get on the horn and order every Star Watch captain to prepare for the Parcical’s arrival.”

  “Absolutely not! The enemy will not wait for you to go gallivanting across the sector. No, the rest of Star Watch can stay put … sequestered far away within their own districts … where they have been tasked with defending our Alliance brethren.”

  Jason stared back at the defiant admiral, wanting to reach across the spatial divide and strangle the old son of a bitch. “Let me explain it to you one more time. I’ll speak slowly so you can fully comprehend what I’m saying. This is how our enemy succeeds. How a never-heard-of-before fuckwad of a star system has risen in power. To the point that they now match … hell … maybe even surpass, the Alliance in overall spatial territory size. They count on bad military decisions, coming from blustering, over-confident fleet commanders. Well, that’s not going to happen. Not today and not while I’m still wearing this uniform. Feel free to write me up. Call for a court martial. Go knock yourself out.”

  The two men stared at each other for what seemed a full minute. Suddenly, Jason flapped his arms in frustration. “Then don’t! I’ll personally contact them. Maybe they’ll listen to me … maybe they won’t, but know this: if we don’t get Star Watch up and running, those Craing heavy cruisers you have lined up like target practice decoys, it’ll be Liberty Station that’ll take it in the shorts. You might want to call your wife … your kids … becaus
e you won’t ever be coming home again.”

  With a slicing motion to his neck, Jason gave Ryan the universal signal to cut the connection. He abruptly sat down and stared at the wraparound display, watching the admiral’s video feed fade away.

  Applause rang out behind him. Jason didn’t need to spin around to know it was Billy and Boomer. Ryan laughed aloud, joining in on the handclapping.

  Billy plopped down in one of the officers chairs while Boomer took another. Bristol, entering the bridge, took a seat next to Stone at the helm console.

  “I thought you were gone,” Jason said, sounding annoyed.

  “Came to say goodbye and maybe sort of suggest you switch to decaf for a while,” Billy said.

  Jason allowed a lopsided smile. “Goodbye, already … go get my wife and my father. Bring them home.”

  Billy’s expression turned serious. “You got it, Cap. I won’t come home without them. You can take that to the bank.” He stood and, gesturing to Bristol, said, “Let’s go.”

  Jason glanced at Bristol. “You’ve got the Stellar’s Caldurian tech up and running? I want to be able to communicate.”

  “Seems to be working. I can make any necessary adjustments en route,” Bristol replied.

  Billy halted at the entrance, two fingers to his ear. “Come on, Bristol, Two-ton’s got the Stellar all fired up and ready to go.”

  Boomer stood, giving Billy a hug and then one for Bristol, who looked extremely uncomfortable with the physical contact. Stepping apart, she said, “Run into too much friction … call me. I’ll bring a whole lot of kickass to the party.”

  “I know that you would,” Billy said. “I think we’ll be okay and I suspect your Dad here will need someone covering his six. Even if it’s only Admiral Mayweather coming after him with his cane.”