Scrapyard LEGACY (Star Watch Book 6) Page 13
Dira ran over to the far side of the room, then, standing near a still-undamaged cabinet, raised her arms and fired. The cabinet blew apart with a thunderous bang and more sparks and fire erupted. Now only one cabinet remained on the other side of the room. The frenzied guards were running around—not knowing what to shoot at; how to stop the catastrophic invisible attack.
Dira, backing away from the mayhem, decided the best way to cross the room was between the rows of tables in the center. The hackers, turning frantically in their seats, looked dumbfounded by the series of explosions. They all looked so young … probably teen geniuses in the making. Dira stopped in her tracks. Now entering through the open doorway was the man she’d seen earlier, wearing the same silver-lined cloak—Lord Digby, mastermind of everything. She raised her arms and pointed them at him.
Crap … I can see my arms! So much for being invisible!
Her hesitation was long enough for Digby to dive to safety. She fired her wrist cannons in the general direction he jumped to, but a table blocked the line of fire.
As more energy strikes pummeled her combat suit, Dira’s HUD alarms resumed blaring with renewed urgency. Her shields were down to nine percent. She spun around and returned fire, taking down two guards who’d gotten a lot closer than she realized. Ducking low, she moved between two table rows, and watched three hackers—still seated next to each other—take direct friendly fire shots to their heads.
“Get down!” she yelled. Doing the same, she crab-walked forward, trying to see where Digby had gone to. With energy bolts flashing overhead, Dira remembered the life icons on her HUD, and tried to determine which red icon might be his. One icon was moving toward the back wall—toward the only still-operating server. That has to be him!
Dira quickened her pace, only to feel her upper back struck again by searing hot weapon fire. She spun around and fired at the three guards, now creeping up behind her. Two died instantly from headshot fire; the third one, crouching behind them, jumped over a table.
She ventured a quick peek toward the server. Sure enough, there was Lord Digby. He was at the server—the cabinet door open—doing something with an input device. Undoubtedly, tapping in new commands.
It’s now or never, she thought as she stood and fired. Three plasma bolts emanated from her integrated wrist cannons, striking the last server cabinet, which burst into sparks, then flames. Again, Digby managed to jump away to safety. But whatever he attempted to do at the server—her wrist-guns stopped firing, and not on purpose. Worse, her combat suit was no longer covering her body!
Realization took hold. Digby did this … when he was standing there at the server. She glanced around. She was standing smack in the middle of a firefight and totally naked. Shit!
Dira squatted down on her hands and knees—not knowing what to do next. There, just left of her right hand, was her SuitPac device, lying on the floor. It must have dropped there when her combat suit retracted. Grabbing it, she did the only thing left to do: make a run for the door.
Chapter 23
The townsfolk backed away en mass, their earlier riotous frenzy replaced by sudden fear for their lives. The only police force remaining, some thirty or forty individuals—seemed similarly scared. Dead bodies everywhere, stacked two and three high in places, were a reminder of the carnage that had just taken place.
Jason took a step closer to the crowd, retracting the helmet portion of his combat suit. “The next person to raise their weapon … will be killed. The next person who moves too quickly will likewise be killed. Is that understood?” he said.
Other than a few undecipherable murmurs, no one spoke anything intelligible in response.
“Slowly, you there … in the gray uniforms … place your weapons on the ground. Do it now!” The policemen slowly complied—reluctantly.
Startled, Jason raised his arms, set to fire, when Billy emerged through the front line of the crowd, half-carrying, half-dragging Two-ton. Boomer ran forward to help and positioned Two-ton’s free arm across her shoulders. The robot looked severely battered—its head swung around unrestricted. Something was broken. Making their way toward the HAB’s allocation hub entrance, the door opened wide on their arrival. Jason spied Ricket for a quick instant, before the door closed shut behind them. He still didn’t know if his grandfather, Ol’ Gus, was all right, or not.
Jason turned his attention back to the angry mob standing before him. “I’m going to speak now and you all need to listen. I am Captain Jason Reynolds. I command a small fleet of spaceships, called Star Watch. You are all under my command, and you are not going to like what I have to say to you. Well, that’s too bad. It is what it is, and you are stuck with the situation. This city of yours is real, but it’s a duplicate … a clone of an identical city located on a distant world. You are, each of you, a duplicate of someone else. A copy.” Jason waited for his words to sink in. Waited for the crowd’s anger to erupt again—and the riot to resume. But nothing happened. What he noticed in their eyes instead was acceptance.
“We already know all that. How could we not?” one of the policemen inquired, his uniform streaked with blood.
Jason, unsure if the blood was his or someone else’s, said, “What you might not know is that your ongoing expansion—the territory you’ve been rapidly acquiring—hasn’t been managed very well.”
“We know that too! The old man needs to pay …”
Jason let that go. He gestured to the skyline behind them and said, “All that acquisition resides in memory, of which only a finite amount of space has been allocated. Those memory banks reside on my spacecraft. There’s no further room to expand. In fact, we are dangerously close to catastrophic failures. For both my ship and this habitat.”
“What happens then?” someone yelled from the crowd.
“Here? Poof. You all disappear. As if you never existed. And that could happen any moment now. And to be perfectly honest with you, I don’t like being anywhere near here …”
Jason knew he was being harsh—maybe even callous. But the reality of their dire situation required cold-sober disclosure.
“We can’t be expected to live in a confined cage … like lab rats,” the same policeman said.
Jason stared intently back at the man, who looked as human as himself, but probably was from another, completely different alien species. But that didn’t matter now. The door behind him opened and Ricket emerged. Hurrying to Jason’s side, he motioned for Jason to lean down, needing to tell him something important.
“Captain … I believe I have come up with a means to help them. And us, as well.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Captain. Please, may I address the townspeople?”
“Be my guest. I was going to tell them they were basically screwed …”
Ricket stepped closer to the crowd. As eyes focused on the four-foot-tall Craing, he cleared his throat and began to speak. “Thank you for …”
“Can’t hear you!”
“Talk louder!”
“What is he saying …?”
Ricket began again, speaking in a louder voice: “Thank you for your attention. I believe there may be a technological remedy, although, to my knowledge, nothing like this has been attempted before.” Ricket glanced up at Jason and said, “With the Captain’s approval, I propose we transfer this habitat to a new location. To an uninhabited world of its own. It would no longer reside within the memory banks of the Parcical … our ship. This combination of virtual and real-world environment will have its own, dedicated, systems processor and ample spare memory. Perhaps you can allocate one of your beautiful structures for this,” he said, gesturing toward the cityscape beyond. “Because any expansion would be into the non-virtual realm, further memory issues should not be an issue. You would have a whole planet to expand your boundaries, even to outer space beyond, if you so wish.”
Jason saw skepticism on most faces. Something he also was feeling.
One of the townspeople, an attractive mi
ddle-aged woman standing directly across from Ricket, said, “We are not unintelligent people. Take a look at this amazing city. We are scientists and mathematicians, most of us highly educated. We all know exactly where we came from. We’ve always known. But what you’re proposing … how can we exist in a place where our counterparts also exist? It’s a recipe for disaster.”
Ricket nodded and smiled. “Thank you for your question. Excellent observation. My proposal is not for you to reside within this multiverse, but within one that is altogether separate … having similar physical properties, but without counterparts. A place where you would be truly unique.”
Jason watched as some of the woman’s skepticism abated, but then returned. “But how … how do you transplant an entire city into a new physical reality?”
“Ah … another excellent question. Just as this environment … this landscape … resides in memory within the memory banks of our spacecraft, so too will it reside in memory there on your new world. That aspect will have to remain; however, you will be able to expand onto the planet surface, and you will have great portal windows through which to come and go, not so different from how we entered your city from our ship. A very similar prospect, but on a much, much, larger scale.”
Jason marveled at Ricket’s capacity for making the impossible sound plausible. But the entire enterprise would be no small task, requiring both resources and time. He wasn’t sure the mob would stand for that.
“How long would we have to wait?”
Ricket thought about the question. “It is a substantial undertaking. I would need your help with the selection of a suitable planet where you would want your terrestrial and space portals to be located.”
The woman smiled for the first time. “There would be space portals? And we can help with the actual design … its implementation?”
“It would be of great help to us if you did. So yes,” Ricket affirmed.
The crowd had begun to speak amongst themselves. Jason observed a mind-shift taking place—the angry mob quickly transforming into a united, enthusiastic community.
Jason leaned over and spoke into Ricket’s ear. “How long would all this take?”
Ricket thought for a moment, then said, “One year.”
Jason held his hands up in a hushing motion. “Listen up, everyone. We have a popular phrase on our home planet: Rome wasn’t built in a day. The entire relocation will take some time. First, we need to address our short-term concerns. That means taking back a good portion of the territories you’ve stretched to over the years. But I do promise … it will be temporary. Ricket tells me, if everything goes as planned, you can expand as far as you want on your new home planet starting in about one year.”
The murmurs increased. Ricket took a hesitant step backward as the volume rose.
Eventually, the middle-aged woman spoke out again and the crowd quickly hushed. It was evident she was held in high esteem by everyone there. “What the small man has proposed is … well, almost too wonderful to believe.”
“I assure you, Ricket—”
The woman cut Jason off. “We believe him. In fact, we insist the one you call Ricket be our liaison. That he stays involved throughout the process. I am Triss Caplan … the second. I will be our people’s representative. One year is not that long a time to build an entirely new civilization. We agree to the terms you suggest; we will allocate a building structure for our dedicated memory and the processors you spoke of. We thank you, and thank you, Ricket. We wish for the old one called Gus to be removed from this … habitat. Isn’t that what you called it? A habitat?”
Jason nodded.
“That he be removed immediately. There are many here who wish to do him harm. Myself among them.” Triss Caplan looked around at the lifeless bodies around them. “This could have been avoided … lives did not have to be lost here today. If only the old man had been honest with us—hadn’t promised us further expansion. But now we must tend to those we’ve lost,” she said, motioning to the few remaining officers in gray. Breaking into pairs, they gripped the hands and feet of the dead and began carting them away.
Jason glanced toward the closed door. Behind the tall, mirror-like windows, his grandfather, beyond a doubt, was also witnessing—hearing—what had transpired. He felt sorry for him. For twenty years, he had been the big man around town. Had even been made an honorary prime minister, or something like that. But it hadn’t been real. He’d been used … though maybe no more so than he’d used them.
Still, Jason only felt enormous relief that the critical plight here had found an acceptable solution. That he could once again focus on the even greater, more desperate situation within his own realm—the fleet of attacking ships approaching the Sol System.
Chapter 24
Two-ton, with four new significant body dents—three on its upper front torso and one on the side of its head—stood in front of Jason’s ready room desk. Ricket had repaired the robot as best he could, not wanting to spend precious time manufacturing new parts.
Jason requested Two-ton’s presence to thank the robot personally for how it had performed within the habitat. But the conversation quickly turned to other things. Jason’s admiration for the robot was already high, but now, conversing with it, it became even more so. Two-ton was capable of so much. In some ways, even more than the Parcical’s highly advanced AI. Two-ton had initiative—a rare commodity, not only for robots, but for humans as well.
“… and the approaching Sommis of Adriark fleet. You’ve been monitoring their progress?”
“Yes, Captain … extensively. They are two days out from Sol. But I have to tell you, their technology is nothing to write home about. There are one hundred and forty-eight Vicksol ST66 warships in all … each capable of FTL. Now, under normal circumstances, they might be capable of going toe-to-toe with both your Craing heavy and light cruisers, but not with the fleet Vastma Class ships. And certainly not with Star Watch … at least when fully operational.”
Jason stood, contemplating the relayed information. “Let’s take your findings into the meeting.” Jason briefly hesitated before entering the Captain’s Quarters’ conference room. Deep in discussion, Ricket and Bristol were there already, sitting next to each other. Neither glanced up as he took his seat at the head of the table. Two-ton took a seat to his left.
Billy entered next and, taking the seat directly to Jason’s right, eyed Bristol and Ricket. Turning to Jason, he asked, “They’ve barely come up for air since we got back, huh?”
Jason shook his head. “Not so far.”
Ryan, shuffling in, grabbed a seat, nodding to Jason and Billy respectively. “Captain … Commander.”
The last to rush in was Boomer. “Sorry I’m late.”
Jason raised his brows at her questioningly.
She shook her head. “He still hasn’t left his cabin. Wants to be left alone.”
Jason expected as much. Ol’ Gus hadn’t taken the whole HAB 311 mob situation well. He felt bad for his grandfather. After twenty years of being appreciated—admired even—he’d been forced to leave the habitat in disgrace. He wondered if the old guy would ever recover.
“I’ll speak to him … when things settle down,” Jason said, his attention back on Ricket and Bristol, still engaged in conversation, when he heard them mention Aquarius and Granger.
“Talk to me, guys … what’s going on?”
Ricket looked up, noticing those around him for the first time. “Sorry, Captain. We became overly engrossed in our conversation.” Ricket glanced back to Bristol. “Captain, I would first like to commend Bristol on his amazing work with the Ingress Virus and his numerous countermeasures patches. I dare say, I would not have been able to accomplish so much in so little time.”
Jason doubted that was true, but Ricket was right—Bristol had accomplished monumental results.
“Again, stellar work, Bristol. You can expect a fleet accommodation for what you have done, if and when things get back to normal.”
“But it was you who made it happen, not me. You must own your accomplishments, Bristol,” Ricket said, clearly proud of the Chief of Engineering’s achievements.
“So where do we stand now? Where does the Parcical stand?” Jason asked him.
Bristol, glancing at Ricket, noticed they were all staring at him instead. “Well, as you already know, our own nano-devices are back up and running. No adverse effects with the patch, thus far. That means our NanoCom is up, too. We can communicate between each other, like before.”
“But not to those … um … still infected, right?” Boomer asked.
“Yeah, they’ll need the patch.” Bristol continued with, “But as far as the Parcical is concerned, I think she’s pretty much back to one hundred percent. Comms are up; phase-synthesizer related tech … such as DeckPorts, JIT munitions, of course phase-shifting. I tested the latter with combat suits, but we need to test its ability to jump the ship. Also … I called up an interchange wormhole five million miles out in space, then cancelled it … it worked.”
“And the MediPods?” Jason asked.
The room went quiet, in deference to the recruits who’d lost their lives within the infected MediPods. Now added to that list of names were those of the four recruits recently massacred within HAB 311. Only seven recruits remained alive.
Billy said, “I tested one of the pods myself. Did an update of my own HyperLearning status. Other than a headache, typically associated with the process, I’m feeling pretty good. Now, as we speak, the four living recruits are being endowed with nanites, nano-devices, and a full complement of HyperLearning. With luck, they’ll come out of Medical as new, and highly efficient, combat-ready Sharks.”
Jason thought about that, and the personal cost to Billy had been high. Changing the subject, Jason asked, “Ricket, I heard you and Bristol talking about the Aquarius … about Granger. Anything more on either one since our last discussion?”