Star Watch Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other books by MWM

  Star Watch

  Book One of the Star Watch series

  Written By

  Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2015 by Mark Wayne McGinnis All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by:

  Eren Arik

  Edited by:

  Lura Lee Genz

  Mia Manns

  Published by:

  Avenstar Productions

  ISBN-10: 0986109843

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9861098-4-3

  To join Mark’s mailing list, jump to:

  http://eepurl.com/bs7M9r

  Prologue

  Alchieves System

  Planet Trom, Cloud-Port E5926

  _________________

  “Another SkyTrans captain just reported in … his engine’s out of service until further notice.”

  “Another? Shit!” Security Commander Larkbadder barked. “Not today of all days. Not today.”

  “Well, that’s what happens when six million people all try to migrate within the same three days. The engines are old and poorly maintained. We’re lucky they’ve held up as long as they have,” Transportation Minister Dullard said unapologetically, without looking up from his terminal.

  Larkbadder watched as the frustrated transportation minister, overweight, overstressed, and clearly overworked, tapped at the input device in front of him. There were twenty such terminals clustered about in the middle of the tower. All of the workers manning them, with the exception of Dullard, who’d just relieved its previous occupant, were mechers—AI controlled bots. The metallic mechers looked and sounded somewhat like Tromians, but were ridiculously tall—seven feet at least—and could rotate their heads a full three hundred and sixty degrees. For the most part, mechers were the most annoying Tromian creation ever conceived.

  Larkbadder now stood at the observation window, fifteen hundred feet above the open-air concourse below. Like ants, thousands of Tromians—men, women, and children—were hurrying from scores of port-annex doors directly below him, onto the concourse platform. The traffic control tower was perched high above every other structure on the cloud-port periphery. Larkbadder walked to an adjacent observation window. With hands on hips, he looked out and shook his head. Below, throngs of people continued to push and shove, frantic to escape—to secure a seat on a SkyTrans engine. How many brawls, fistfights, and numerous other altercations had his officers had to break up over the last few hours? Things were teetering on the verge of out and out riots down there.

  A mammoth–sized SkyTrans engine sat directly across the concourse, about a mile’s distance away. Steam hissed and spat from a thousand or so individual relief valves positioned all over the mud-colored engine’s hull. To his left, thirty miles of the concourse platform disappeared into the clouds, as another ten SkyTrans engines began taking on passengers. Each of the monstrous-sized vehicles was a quarter of a mile long and fifty yards wide.

  Temporarily cozied up to their berths, the SkyTrans engines took on as many passengers as regulations would allow: about one hundred thousand souls each … often that number was pushed an additional thirty thousand. And they wonder why these old engines give out, he thought.

  The transportation minister joined Larkbadder at the window. “You sticking around?”

  Larkbadder looked at Dullard as if he were crazy. “Of course I’m sticking around.” He realized he’d replied with a little more fervor than intended. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go … may as well stay here and see what happens,” Larkbadder said. But his calm demeanor was in true contrast to his actual state of mind. He was scared … for anyone that didn’t get away from Trom. Truth be told, he was just as terrified what would become of himself.

  “How about you … when are you scheduled to …” Larkbadder didn’t finish; instead, using his chin, he gestured toward the closest SkyTrans engine.

  Transportation Minister Dullard looked uncomfortable with the question, as if a deep, dark secret had come to light. Then his shoulders relaxed and he let out a long breath. “Late tonight. My wife and daughter are meeting me here. We’re on the last engine to leave Trom. I only hope—”

  Larkbadder cut him off, “You’ll be gone in plenty of time. Plenty.” He turned and gave the transportation minister a positive, upbeat look. “No Pharlom ships have entered this sector, let alone our planetary system. Plenty of time.”

  The truth was, Larkbadder knew that at least eighteen Pharlom vessels had been detected coming into the sector and were making fast progress toward Alchieves space, their own ten-planet solar system. Over the past twenty years, no one had given the Pharloms much thought. True, they’d been Trom’s worst enemy before then, but the mighty Craing had kept them at bay—made it virtually impossible for years to wage war against a neighboring system—while Trom provided mined minerals and other raw materials, not to mention slave labor and crew personnel, to the ever-growing Craing interstellar fleets. But then suddenly, the Craing fleets were gone. Defeated in another part of the galaxy … somewhere. Their celebration was short-lived, though. For as bad as the Craing Empire was … and it certainly was terrible, the Pharloms were worse. Now they would take advantage of Trom’s vulnerability, as well as that of the neighboring planets. At least the Craing, typically, didn’t rape and pillage. Now, it was only a matter of time before Pharlom boots hit the ground and God help anyone still around Trom when they did.

  A horn’s final
call sounded from the nearest SkyTrans engine. As the tower windows trembled, Larkbadder felt the familiar deep vibration course through virtually every part of his body. He watched as another gargantuan vehicle slowly moved away from its mooring. A new vibration filled the air as its big ion drive began to rev up. He watched the engine move away—picking up speed. Then it was gone … lost in the clouds.

  Chapter 1

  Sol System

  Planet Earth, Central Valley Scrapyard, San Bernardino, CA

  _________________

  Jason watched Dira floating in the pool. Hot this time of year in San Bernardino; he knew it was only a matter of minutes, hell … seconds, before he’d join her. The kids were back with their mother in D.C., and the silence, without their youthful boisterousness filling the air, was a welcome change of pace. He picked up a paperback he’d started, but it wasn’t holding his interest. He looked for the other vinyl float and spotted it, deflated, submerged at the bottom of the pool. Damn kids …

  The strap of Dira’s bikini top was unclasped and, after two weeks, there was little hint she’d ever had tan lines. Who’d have guessed a Jhardonian woman’s skin would turn even more violet when sunburned? His eyes were back on Dira and the perfect curvature of her remarkable backside.

  “Why don’t you stop looking at my ass and come in?”

  “The other float is at the bottom of the pool,” he said.

  “I’ll scoot over … there’s room.” She managed to keep her top pinned between her upper arms while scooting several inches to her right. She patted the now six inches of open space on her float.

  “There’s not nearly enough room for me.”

  “Lie on your side, we’ll make it work,” she said, smiling. She released the tension on her bikini top and gravity did the rest. “Oops,” she said, feigning surprise.

  Jason enjoyed the eyeful and said, “Okay … maybe in a few minutes.” He got off the lounge chair and headed for the back of the house. Dira’s eyes followed him. He knew that she knew what he was trying so desperately to hide—that he was going bat-shit, stir crazy here. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Nope … I’m good,” she said.

  Jason looked out over the scrapyard’s seemingly endless expanse of rusted-out old cars, buses, and even the remains of a downed jet fighter. The yard belonged to his father Perry and his grandfather Ol’ Gus before him. Jason shielded his eyes against the sun, as if saluting, and squinted toward one particular grouping of old vehicles off in the distance. There they are. A faded yellow school bus and, next to it, a red, now actually more faded pink, 1961 Cadillac convertible. He debated if he should go below today. Down several hundred feet below the surface was where it all started, over two years ago. Jason rubbed the scruff on his chin and thought of his young daughter, Mollie. Four life-altering events had happened to Jason and Mollie within a matter of minutes: One, they came face-to-face with a cyborg, right here in the scrapyard, an alien he knew today as Ricket. Two, Mollie was shot by that same, albeit startled, alien. Three, with Jason clutching her lifeless body in his arms, Ricket led them to a hidden elevator shaft. Together, they descended to a dried-up underground aquifer. Four, he first set eyes on The Lilly and, somewhere within the bowels of that magnificent spaceship, Mollie and Jason were whisked into Medical; Mollie was placed into something called a MediPod … where, still lifeless from a plasma bolt to her heart, she was miraculously brought back to life.

  Jason turned back toward the house, which was open to the outside. The eight-foot-high sliding windows were now secured into a recessed cubbyhole off to one side. Nan, his ex-wife, had designed the house pretty much from scratch … she said her blueprints would allow the outside decking, and the inside living environment, to merge. Jason padded into the kitchen, opened the fridge door and let its cool air envelop him.

  His father, the admiral, had also returned to the scrapyard, when the war with the Craing ended; he was prepared to retire here … ready to finally restore his old ’49 F1 pickup truck. But within a few months he’d found an excuse to head back into space … he too had gone stir crazy.

  “Please close the refrigerator door, Captain Reynolds.”

  It was the unpleasant voice of the household AI. She was reprimanding him—again. He contemplated shooting her, but realized he wasn’t certain where the actual computer core was located in the house. Perhaps in the basement? No, this was not a typical house, by any means. It was a house comprised of alien, Caldurian, technology. Like The Lilly. His heart sank every time he thought of her … of how she was now nothing more than space dust.

  Jason pulled a bottle of OJ from the top shelf and let the door swing shut.

  He’d no sooner brought the bottle to his lips when he heard the familiar melodic ringtone of his internal NanoCom. Part of a Caldurian nano-technology package, Jason, and most of the other crewmembers who had served on board both The Lilly and the Minian, had it installed within their physiology and could communicate with virtually anyone within thousands of miles’ distance.

  Out of habit Jason brought two fingers to his ear. “Go for Captain,” he said, already knowing the incoming NanoCom call was, in fact, from his father.

  “Enough is enough.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’ve been rambling around that place long enough. There’s only so many hours you can lay in the sun … or whatever the two of you are doing down there.”

  “You’d be surprised how entertained we’ve been; able to keep our—”

  “Fine … I’ll take your word for it. Put away the pool toys, pack a few things, and lock up the house. The paperwork’s come through.”

  “I didn’t submit any paperwork, Dad.”

  “None of that Dad shit … it’s Admiral. Your leave has officially been revoked and you, as well as Dira, are back on active duty, as of right now.”

  Jason tried to keep the smile from his lips, knowing full well his father would be able to hear it in his voice. Sure, with The Lilly gone, things would now be different. Perhaps they’d give him one of the U.S. Craing heavy cruiser conversions … it really didn’t matter. “What exactly do you have in mind for me?”

  “Just get up here and stop wasting time, Admiral Reynolds.” The connection ended.

  “Admiral? What the hell’s he talking about?”

  Jason looked up to see Dira standing in the family room, watching him. “Do I have time for a shower … Admiral Reynolds?”

  “Sure, take as long as you want … a command decision … apparently I’ve been promoted.”

  She rolled her eyes and headed toward the master bedroom. He thought about the whole admiral thing. He’d fought against receiving the promotion for over a year—but now, for some reason, it seemed to fit. He was forty now. Time to let other officers head into battle … and play the wild adventurer.

  * * *

  One thing for sure about military life, you can fit just about anything you need into a standard issue duffle. Together, Dira and Jason made their way through the maze of junk cars, piles of scrap metal, and stacks of rusted root beer-colored wheel rims. Like himself, Dira was back in a spacer’s jumpsuit. Inevitably, his eyes leveled on her walking several paces in front of him. For goodness’ sakes, she even made a jumpsuit look sexy.

  As if reading his mind, she glanced back over her shoulder and gave him a scolding look. “Knock it off, Admiral … none of that.” She made an abrupt turn, passing between the old, faded caddy and the school bus. She found the hidden access button beneath the front right wheel well and gave it a definitive slap. The bus’s narrow double-doors opened and she disappeared up the metal stairs. Jason took one last look around the yard before following her inside.

  The bus was basically a shell—no rows of bench seats, nor driver’s seat or steering wheel. Jason watched as Dira hit another access button and the floor began to descend. The elevator shaft was dark but if you looked hard, the walls were lined with a myriad of old hubcaps, automobile doors, and si
de panels. Twenty years earlier, Ricket and his grandfather had spent weeks … months … making the hideaway below safe. It was Ol’ Gus who’d first discovered what was hidden there. Buried beneath a hundred years of dirt and sediment, The Lilly rested, unobserved. Ricket, too, lay buried—somewhere outside the ship, his bionic brain core partially scrubbed.

  The lift came to a jarring stop. They’d reached the bottom of the shaft. Jason pulled open the metal lift gate and the two headed off into the tunnel before them.

  By the time they hiked the distance through the winding passage, eventually emerging into the wide expanse of the aquifer proper, both were breathing hard.

  Jason’s heart missed a beat, so used to seeing his ship—The Lilly—sitting right there, in this hiding place so very few knew about. He pushed a recurring feeling of loss aside … just as he’d done a hundred times before. They headed toward the center of the aquifer where a small transport vessel sat, illuminated by high, overhead hanging lights; it was a Caldurian shuttle—the Perilous.

  Off to the right were stacks of recently-constructed environmental compartments, containing complete living quarters for no less than a hundred crewmembers; also, a large mess hall and a laboratory-type facility, as well as other amenities. Everything one would need to survive down here—probably indefinitely, if necessary.

  A solitary figure emerged from the rear of the shuttle and headed down the gangway. It was Lieutenant Commander Grimes. She, along with a group of other Navy Top Gun pilots, was assigned to The Lilly a year and a half earlier, then later transferred over to the Minian, the senior-most pilot of its fleet of advanced Caldurian fighters and shuttles.

  “Captain Reynolds, it’s so good to see you again. Hey, Dira … you’re certainly looking well-rested.”

  “Lieutenant, good to see you too,” Jason said.

  Dira gave Grimes a hug. They were friends and it had been quite a while since Dira had served with the fleet in any official capacity. Not since she’d returned home to Jhardon—a planet ravaged earlier by the Craing. Her father, the king of Jhardon, was recently killed and her mother, the queen, seemed at death’s door from illness. It looked as if Dira, actually a princess by birthright, would be required to step in as ruler. But all that changed when Ricket was able to procure a MediPod and had it delivered to the royal palace. It still took several days of wrangling on Dira’s part to convince those at her mother’s bedside to allow such alien technology to come anywhere close to the dying queen’s frail body. In the end, reason, and the all too imminent death of their beloved queen, made them grant Dira permission. Her mother soon recovered and immediately went to work changing the monarchy to a more democratic form of government. Not interested in politics in the least, Dira was then free to return to the Alliance—to Jason—and resume her work as a medical doctor … a job she truly loved doing.