“Undoubtedly, the hackers used another Master Class vessel, the Aquarius, as their first test model,” Ricket continued, “and found within the ship’s hold the storage of some inert Caldurian Battle Droids. They then discovered a way to activate them, using the Ingress Virus, and issued the droids new battle orders.”
“How many … how many killer droids are typically stored on Master Class vessels?” Jason asked.
Ricket hesitated before answering. Jason knew he was mentally accessing some distant database—probably one back on the Parcical. “Eight. All Master Class ships have eight,” Ricket said.
All eyes turned to Captain Perkins, who looked up—returning Jason’s questioning stare. “No, those four were all we encountered. Those four … systematically … killed everyone on board. They then collected the bodies and released them all out an airlock.”
Jason’s thoughts flashed back to Ricket’s logistical feed graphic. Did the other Master Class Star Watch vessels endure the same horrific turn of events? Would there be a complete and total extermination, except for maybe a few bridge crew officers? Without those vessels’ comms up and running they’d have to wait to see.
Chapter 30
Orion said, “Wait … don’t … you can’t!”
Lord Digby’s hand steadied where it was, tightly grasping the handle of the curved edged weapon. Blood continued to trickle down the Omni’s neck. Digby’s smug expression quickly turned to one of annoyance. “Open the Starboard rear hatch now! Then, as promised, Omni Reynolds’ life will be spared.”
“And the other Star Watch crewmembers you have imprisoned on the planet?” Orion queried.
“Of course they will remain unharmed. How would it serve me to injure any of them?”
Orion’s mind raced. She honestly could not decide what to do. The fate of the Omni was in her hands and she had mere moments to choose. To either surrender a warship of highly advanced technological capabilities to an enemy, or watch the fleet Omni bleed out before her eyes.
“The truth is … much of the ship’s functionality is down. I don’t think I’d be able to open that hatch even if I wanted to,” she said, grasping for a probable reason to hesitate as long as possible … avoid making a horrific decision. She watched as Digby considered the information. Weighing whether it was a delay ploy or not. It was, of course.
Digby brought the blade away from the Omni’s neck. Rising, he sheathed his sword into a scabbard behind his cloaked back.
Orion noticed the Omni’s swollen, nearly shut eyes widening somewhat. Then, shaking his head back and forth, he croaked out, “Let him kill me, Orion. I order you … do not give up my ship.”
A guard came into view and struck the Omni’s face with a closed fist. The Omni spit out blood, and maybe a tooth, from the side of his mouth. He looked up at the guard and, in the same hoarse voice, said, “You punch like a little girl … asshole.”
Orion had to give the fleet commander his due. He was a tough old son of a bitch.
The guard wound up to deliver yet another blow when Lord Digby intervened. “Enough! Take him back down to the prison.” He waited for the Omni to be dragged from view, then said, “Do not think you have put one over on me, Commander. You have not. The truth of the matter is, I doubt the access hatch would open without intervention. I will speak with my lead coder. Perhaps he can provide me a short open window to bring down the virus momentarily. Give you enough time to open the hatch. But know this … any attempt to flee, or use your ship’s weapons, will be met with instant death. Not only for your fleet Omni, but for the rest of the Aquarius’s imprisoned crewmembers too. I believe that number is close to twelve hundred individuals. Do not test me on this … I assure you, I am sincere with my threats.”
“No … I trust you would kill them all, if you haven’t already. You know, there’s a special place in hell for people like you, Lord Digby. One day, I hope to be the one to send your there.”
Orion saw him smile and before the feed went black, she heard him say, “You’ll have to get in line for that …”
* * *
Dira hurried along behind Bri, moving silently through the castle’s narrow subterranean catacombs. Bri held a burning torch before her in her outstretched hand. It was cold down here and the stone walls glistened with moisture. An earthy, mossy smell permeated the air.
“Keep up!” she scolded in a hushed voice. “Get lost down here and you’ll starve to death before you’re ever found.”
Dira closed the gap between them—her eyes lingering on the dancing opaque shadows. More than once she caught movement of things greater in size than common rats, or even small dogs. “Where are you taking me? I don’t think the Omni’s ship is in this direction.” Usually, Dira had a good sense of direction, but since they were underground, kept turning down different, claustrophobic passageways, her bearings were all screwed up.
“We’re not taking the Omni’s ship. Do you think we can simply hop on the monorail and act like we’re common passengers? Guards and the king’s knights are out now, scouring the castle and the outer grounds searching for us.”
“Then where … ?”
“Hush … we’re almost there.”
Dira held her tongue. Every so often she let her hand touch the hilt of the sword-like weapon tucked into the folds of her shirt top. Even though she doubted she’d know how to use it, it did provide some sense of security.
Light shone down into the passageway up ahead. At first, Dira thought they were about to emerge outside, then realized they were entering into a large cylindrical area. The walls were curved metal—ascending up around them—easily ten stories high. Above them, the open night sky revealed a thousand twinkling stars. They were on some kind of enclosed landing pad—large enough to hold a handful of odd-looking spacecraft, of varying sizes and shapes. None were as large as the Jumelle. These were closer in size to the Omni’s Elegante or the Stellar—Boomer and Mollie’s spacecraft.
“Whose ships are these?” Dira asked.
Bri put a finger to her lips. With a series of hand gestures, she indicated Dira to keep low and follow behind her. Dira nodded and stayed close, passing three vessels before they slowed and came to a stop beneath the wing of a fourth ship. Bri, leaning in close to Dira’s ear, said, “This is the Prince’s … well was the Prince’s … personal craft. I’ve flown it numerous times, when he was too tired, or too drunk, to fly it himself.”
Dira took in the craft’s ornate gaudiness. Nothing sleek about this ship. As part of its decorative detailing beneath the wing was an expensive-looking mounted gilded bird of prey with wings poised for flight, outstretched legs and lethal talons. She assumed there would be an identical decretive embellishment on the opposite wing as well.
Bri tapped a series of nearly invisible overhead touchpads. A five-by-five-foot panel on the craft’s underbelly began to lower. Dira nervously looked around, hearing a high-pitched, motor-like sound grow increasingly loud as the panel descended, and realized it was a lift. Once flat on the ground, Bri scurried onto it and Dira quickly followed. The lift immediately began rising up.
As they made their way through a low-ceilinged wing corridor, they emerged into the central portion of the craft. Dira reflexively put a hand up, covering her nose and mouth. “What’s that ungodly smell?”
Bri just shook her head, as if answering her would be too much trouble.
Pillows were everywhere—pillows atop pillows. And thick pads, perhaps used as beds. Dark red draperies hung down heavily from above—creating various sectionalized spaces within the main compartment. Dira suddenly recognized the ship’s all-pervading odor. It was the bubbly, crimson-colored liquid called Tanganine. And then realized they were on the prince’s personal party ship—his and his harams’.
Bri, speaking now in a normal tone, said, “Cockpit’s this way. Unless you’d prefer to stay right here?”
“No. That’s okay …” Dira followed Bri through the red hanging drapes into what obviously w
as the cockpit. Fortunately, this section of the ship was all business—well appointed in modern technology. When Bri took a seat at the forward console, Dira took the seat beside her and watched as she tapped on several pads on the board before her. Feeling a vibration coming up through her seat, she next heard an engine revving up, somewhere astern.
“Won’t they shoot us down? I can’t imagine they’ll let you just take off in the prince’s personal fuck-mobile.”
Bri, giving Dira a questioning expression, said, “I don’t think it’s common knowledge yet that the prince is dead, or the king either, for that matter. I’m counting on that. The prince’s comings and goings typically go unquestioned.”
“You trust that … enough to risk our lives?” Dira asked, concerned.
“You’re welcome to stay here. Shall I lower the lift?” Bri’s finger hovered over a blue touchpad.
“Just fly this thing … if you really can,” Dira said back. Then noting a brief indecision in Bri’s eyes, she asked, “You can fly this thing … right?”
“Yes! I already told you I could. It’s only the take offs and landings that I’m not too sure about.”
“Terrific.” Dira scanned the lit-up navigation board with the two sets of controls. “Look, if it’s like every other small craft I’ve flown in, everything is automated. One rarely pilots a craft manually these days. It’s all controlled via an AI. Can’t you just input the end-point coordinates then press go?”
Bri nodded, staring down at the myriad of tiny touchpads, her bottom lip sucked in between her upper and lower teeth.
Dira blew out a breath and tried to concentrate, accessing a part of herself that had been dormant for years—her stored-away HyperLearning memories. She knew she underwent a number of spacecraft piloting courses during the long hours spent within the confines of a MediPod—hours and hours.
“All right … sit back! I think I might have this,” Dira said. “Let’s take a look at the ship’s most recent navigation records. See where the prince went to …” Tapping at the control panel, she watched a small display screen awaken. A series of spatial coordinates—locations—scrolled by.
“There!” Bri said, pointing a slender finger on the fifth line down. “That’s Xavier Station 35 … he has a suite there.”
Dira looked at Bri.
“It looks pretty much like it does back there,” she said, giving a disgusted-looking grimace. She used her thumb to point back over her shoulder.
“Really?”
Bri nodded.
Dira selected the auto-nav setting and clicked on the Xavier Station 35 coordinates. The engine took on a higher pitch as the craft began to rise. “Cross your fingers, Bri. I’m not really sure I know what the hell I’m doing.”
Chapter 31
Jason’s first priority earlier was to focus Ricket’s attention on releasing the Minian from the tight grasp of the Ingress Virus. One by one now, the ship’s Caldurian technology systems were coming back online. Boomer’s job was to take the two surviving Shark recruits, Scott and Lopez, to find the four unaccounted for battle droids. They were to begin their search in Hold # 27, which Ricket said was the ship’s standard repository for extended storage.
The bridge was a total loss. Not a single console had survived the battle unaffected. And, like the bridge, Captain Perkins too was broken. When Jason ushered him into the mess hall, it was like maneuvering a mindless zombie, needing to tell him, and physically turn him, this way and that, just to get him there.
As Jason sat across from Perkins at a table, both letting their cups of coffee grow cold, he spoke softly. “Captain … I know how you feel—”
“Do you?” Perkins asked, his eyes remaining unfocussed.
“I do, and if you’ll think back you know I do. I’ve lost many men and women over the years. I’ve inadvertently caused the death of … well, too many. Too many to even remain sane should I dwell on them. Right now is a defining moment for you as a Star Watch Captain. Will this travesty ruin you as an officer? Or will you take what’s happened here and use it to your advantage?”
Perkins’ eyes leveled on Jason. “Was it so easy for you? To simply shrug it off … discount the lives you were responsible for?”
Jason’s response was swift. A hard fist came down on the table, leaving an indentation. “I’m going to say this only once, Perkins. What I came to realize … had to realize … was that I didn’t kill those men and women under my command. I did my job well, even admirably. The enemy forces … be it the Craing, the Sahhrain, or the Pharlom … were the ones responsible. What I did was get angry. I used that anger, socked it away, and when the time was right I destroyed them—every fucking last one of them. So you need to ask yourself, Captain Perkins, what are you going to do now … let this defeat you, or use it to make you stronger?”
Perkins stared back at him with intensity. “So that’s it? That’s your big pep talk?”
Jason shrugged.
Perkins said, the start of a smile forming on his lips, “Well, I’m certainly angry … and yeah … I can use that anger. I promise you this much, there will be payback … a whole lot of payback.”
“Now we’re talking.” Jason was being hailed. Bringing two fingers up to his ear, he said, “Go for Captain.”
“Dad … we found the droids. Can you come down here?”
“On my way!” Jason cut the connection, then stared at Perkins.
“In the vein of being perfectly honest, I’m going to level with you about our current predicament. I’ve underestimated this particular enemy. An enemy force that once seemed quite insubstantial in power compared to others who have moved against the Alliance. Their fleet would have been no match for Star Watch … or even our combined Craing and Vastma Class warships. But we’ve been caught with our proverbial pants down around our ankles. With the exception of the Parcical, we have no viable assets to go up against the Sommis of Adriark forces. Adding to that, my own ship … the Jumelle … is now held captive. My wife and my father may or may not be alive.”
“And I thought I felt bad a few minutes ago,” Perkins said. “What do you want me to do? How can I help?”
* * *
Jason phased-shifted into the main corridor on Deck 3—directly outside Hold #27. Retracting his helmet, he kept his combat suit initialized. He found both Boomer and the two recruits standing before one of numerous deck-to-ceiling shelving units.
“What do we have here?” Jason asked, cautiously eyeing the fully expanded Caldurian Battle Droid, standing upright although apparently inert. Three other droids were in various stages of unfolding away from their stored shelf locations.
Boomer said, “We found them like this. Gave us a start. I put a few distortion waves into the back of the one standing up, but it didn’t even respond. It’s deactivated.”
“Weird,” Jason said. In the process of hailing Ricket, the small Craing suddenly walked into the hold.
“Captain! Glad I found you. I would like to talk to you …” his voice trailed off when he came fully around the corner and spotted the battle droid. “Ah, just as I expected.”
“You expected them to be here … readying themselves like this?” Boomer asked.
“Actually, yes. You see the first four droids, the ones initially dispatched, were successful with their mission parameters to take control of the ship. But when we arrived and destroyed them, then these four were activated. They would have had similar mission parameters as the first set of four … retake the ship.”
Lopez, the shorter of the two recruits, asked, “Why’s it just standing there like that … all creepy-like?”
“I was in the process of removing the Ingress Virus … inoculating the Minian … when I found the code specific to the mobilization of the battle droids. Apparently, they only advanced this far before—”
“Before you saved our asses,” Boomer interjected.
Jason took a step forward, placing his hand on the wide shoulder of the standing battle droid. “C
an they be reprogrammed? Can they take orders … orders directly from me?” he queried Ricket.
Ricket gazed up at the menacing-looking droid. “Yes, Captain. That is how they were designed in the first place. I can insert my own programming into them, which will make them much less susceptible to any external influence.”
“Good!” Jason then focused on the two recruits, and said, “I have a special job for you both.”
Glancing at each other first, Scott said, “Yes, sir.”
“Find some paint … preferably blue. Cover these droids from head-to-toe in blue. Can you do that?”
“Right away, sir!”
Jason, peering down, asked, “Why did you come down here, Ricket? Were you looking for me?”
“Yes, come let me show you …”
* * *
Jason, Ricket, and Boomer arrived on Deck 23 in a bright white flash. Ricket scurried into his workshop, similar to the one he used on the Parcical and the Jumelle. But here on the Minian, a Master Class vessel, the compartment was substantially larger.
Captain Perkins, already at work, had his arms laden with large, dark-gray equipment cases. Ten or more similar cases were lined up on the deck against the bulkhead.
“Oh good, Captain Perkins. Yes … take those to the bridge, if you will, then please come back for more,” Ricket urged.
“What’s this all about?” Jason asked.
Ricket, hefting a case off the deck, stretched it up to him. “These are for Captain Perkins’ new bridge. Every console on the old ruined bridge possessed temporary counterpart kits … helm control, comms, tactical, engineering. Even an interface to the phase-synthesizer, for phase-shifting and JIT munitions. Mind you, they provide only basic functionality, but still that should be sufficient for our purposes.”
“When did you set them up? When did you configure all these?”
“All of the Star Watch vessels have been outfitted with comparable matching sets. They were assembled several years back, after a bridge battle quite similar to the one we took part in today.”
Scrapyard LEGACY (Star Watch Book 6) Page 17
