Scrapyard LEGACY (Star Watch Book 6) Page 14

  “Yes, Captain. With Bristol’s installed countermeasure patches, the Parcical’s long-range sensors are fully operational again. Caldurian vessels leave a highly unique spatial signature. I do believe that only another Caldurian vessel would be able to detect that signature. Ryan, I believe, has located the Aquarius.” Ricket looked toward the end of the table where Ryan sat.

  Jason still had a hard time believing Captain Granger had gone rogue. That he’d sold out the Alliance and the U.S. fleet for profit. Hell, he’d known the old Caldurian for years, from the very beginning …

  Ryan said, “Yeah, well not much to do on the ship’s bridge, sitting two hundred feet below ground. So, I’ve been scouting the sector for the whereabouts of the other nine Star Watch vessels. Been calling up micro-interchange wormholes … deploying scanner drones … with the sole purpose of extending the Parcical’s long-range scans far into deep space.”

  Jason’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait … you’ve located the Jumelle?” Knowing there was nothing he personally could do about Dira’s situation, he nevertheless was worried sick about her. The mere thought that Dira and his father—not to mention Orion and the rest of the crew—were being held hostage, or heaven forbid, dead, made it almost impossible to concentrate on anything else.

  “I’ve found all the ships. As of ten minutes ago, the Jumelle is still there … within the Sommis of Adriark, sitting at Xavier Station 35. That space station has gargantuan proportions.” Jason wasn’t sure if he felt relief the vessel’s location had been pinpointed, or concern that it hadn’t escaped—gotten away. He then noticed Boomer, studying Ryan with something other than disdain.

  “Excellent work, Ryan. Talk to us about the Aquarius. Is she headed back to Sol?”

  “No, sir, I don’t know where she’s headed, but definitely not here. And she’s got a number of Vicksol ST66 warships close on her tail. Maybe five … maybe six. Hard to tell.”

  “The Aquarius, I’m assuming, is also infected with the Ingress Virus … so she’s what … on the run from the Vicksols?” Jason asked.

  No one had an answer.

  Ryan raised a hand to speak again.

  “You don’t have to raise your hand like you’re a third grader, Ryan,” Boomer scoffed.

  Ryan ignored her. “I was just wondering, Captain, why we weren’t showing more concern for the approaching enemy fleet?”

  Billy smiled at the question. “Look … of course we’re concerned. But nary a year goes by that Sol isn’t attacked by some enemy or other, be it the Craing … space pirates … the Sahhrain. There’s been a near-endless procession of enemy attacks over the years. Space is an unfriendly place.”

  “No … Ryan’s right,” Jason said. “Even though we have Alliance and U.S. fleet assets in greater numbers than probably ever before, most of the ships are incapable of defending themselves at present, let alone the system. I’ve been monitoring the situation and it looks like Liberty Station has rallied … dispatched a hodgepodge of uninfected warships to deal with the oncoming threat.”

  “And if those Sommis of Adriark fucks overpower our pathetic resources?” Bristol asked.

  “We can’t let that happen. I do have a plan, though it may not be as well thought out as it should be. I didn’t expect that whole HAB 311 distraction.”

  “So what are we going to do, Dad?” Boomer asked.

  Jason looked around the table. “We are limited in manpower.”

  Boomer raised a brow.

  “There’s fourteen of us, counting the seven recruits.”

  “Fifteen, if you count in Grandpa,” Boomer added.

  Jason continued, “We’ll need to split into two teams.” Sympathetically looking over at Billy, he added, “I’m sorry … this mission will not be easy. For anyone else, I’d say it was a suicide mission, but not for you, buddy. I want you to rescue the Jumelle and her crew. Take four recruits, as well as Bristol, along with you.”

  Bristol looked as if he’d just tasted something foul.

  “Once there, get the ship operational using Bristol’s patches. Get what’s left of the crew, who may … or may not … be still on board, inoculated.”

  “You should take the Stellar,” Boomer said. “She doesn’t look anything like a warship. You could get close enough to phase-shift in.” She looked over to Ricket and Bristol. “Can you get her Caldurian tech checked … patch it if necessary?”

  Ricket said, “Yes, that should not be a problem.”

  Billy said, “One more thing … I’m not a pilot, though I guess I do have some how-to information in my head from those piloting HyperLearning sessions years ago …”

  “Take Two-ton,” Ryan said. “He can pilot just about anything.”

  “What are the rest of us going to do in the meantime, Dad?” Boomer asked.

  “Our number one priority is bringing Star Watch together to defend the Sol System. We then must make a timely return … with as many of them as we can … to engage the enemy. The timing will be tight. We can ill afford any complications.”

  Jason stood. “Let’s get moving, everyone.”

  Billy stayed behind, waiting for the compartment to clear. “I’ll bring her back to you, Cap … I promise you that.”

  “I know you will, Billy.”

  Chapter 25

  Dira ran naked from the hacker’s den, having no idea where she was headed. The one advantage she had, if it could be considered an advantage, was the lack of sound her bare feet made on the stone flooring as she sprinted in the direction of the open hardwood stairwell. Noticing spiky hair on the head of a man quickly ascending the stairs, she recognized him as one of the king’s knights. Before he could notice her, she took another elongated stride, then leapt high in the air from the top of the stairway landing. Coming down heels first, her feet drove hard into the knight’s chest. The force behind her downward momentum—along with the well-timed kicking out of her legs—lifted the knight off his feet, propelling him fast and hard backward. Six feet behind where he’d been ascending, where the stairway made an abrupt left angle turn upward. The knight struck the opposing wood wall. Even before he landed, Dira heard a distinct cracking sound—not unlike the sound of fresh celery stalks being broken in half. She didn’t need to be a medical doctor to know the knight’s neck had been broken. A split second later, she landed awkwardly atop his outstretched legs. Losing her balance, she spilled onto her side, barely catching herself before plummeting down the rest of the stairway. In the process, she badly twisted her wrist and struggled not to scream out. She listened intently for other footfalls and thought she heard them, running on the level above—apparently still unaware she had taken the stairs.

  Glancing at the dead knight, she noticed he was wearing a long cloak, secured onto his shoulders with two hide straps. Still holding on to her inoperable SuitPac device, she put it in her mouth, freeing her hands. Then leaning over his body, she untied the straps and yanked hard several times before the fabric beneath him came free.

  Ready to bolt down the stairs, she noticed he was carrying one of the curved, sword-like, energy weapons—she grabbed that too.

  Definitely hearing pursuers now, running in the direction of the stairway, Dira clutched her bounty to her. With her uninjured hand pressed against her chest, she descended the stairs, two or three at a time. Around and around she went—not remembering the stairway to be so damn long. Turning the last corner she could see the cobblestone flooring on the bottom level. Once down, she hurried into the shadows of an alcove off to her right. Here, she caught her breath and listened. Distant running footsteps could be heard, now coming down the stairs behind her. She needed to hurry. Securing the energy sword into her armpit, she fought against the pain in her wrist. Holding on to the leather straps, she quickly tied the cloak into something akin to a wide sash. Then, looping it over her head, she let the material hang down—angled across her body. Though it covered her breasts, hanging low enough to almost reach her knees, she was keenly aware that her b
ackside was still pretty much fully exposed. It’ll have to do, she thought as she ran down a passageway in the direction of the great room. As she recalled, its location was somewhere off to her left. She passed by three full-sized Thorian figures mounted to the floor, dressed in ancient-looking metal armor, carrying large shields and the same curved sword she too now possessed.

  Following footsteps were getting louder. Peering both left and right, she scanned for a place to hide—someplace she could collect her thoughts and organize some kind of escape plan. She thought about the Omni’s spacecraft and how they’d traveled by monorail to get here. How stacked were the odds against a half-naked, fleeing prisoner, returning safely back to the Elegante?

  Dira slowed to a fast walk and hugged the wall closely, surprised how deserted the castle halls were at present. Perhaps due, she suspected, to the early morning hour—most everyone was asleep. More footfalls and voices, coming from the stairwell, were now growing louder and would soon be upon her. Prepared to run again, she turned the next corner and froze.

  The older king’s young wife, one of three, stared back at her. Silently assessing one another within the narrow confines of the passageway, Dira realized the woman was pregnant—an obvious large baby bump protruded below her exposed breasts. She’d somehow missed that earlier. It was hard to gauge her age. She, like the other females here, wore no makeup. Dira suspected she was young. Perhaps fifteen or sixteen. Her full lips pursed—her callused stare assessing her in a way that made her old beyond her physical years.

  Dira’s grip tightened around the metallic energy weapon in her hand. Yeah … right, So what … I’m about to kill a teenage pregnant queen who’s mourning her husband’s recent death? I don’t think so.

  Sounds of running echoed off the stone walls behind them. Her pursuers had reached the bottom level. The pretty female seemed to be measuring Dira’s appearance; then, having come to some kind of decision, she motioned for Dira to follow her. Spinning around on her heels, she hurried back down the side passage the way she’d come. Dira, glancing over her shoulder, decided she had no choice but to follow her.

  Three doors down on the left, the young woman opened the door and waved Dira to hurry and follow her inside. Closing the door after them, she latched it. Dira took in the room. Again, like the bath facility, the space was tastefully modern; a far cry from the dungeon-like atmosphere of the rest of the castle. The space was feminine, with a large four-poster bed sited at one far end. A sitting area held a settee and two comfortable-looking lounge chairs, placed mid-room before a massive stone fireplace. High red-yellow flames danced on crackling logs within it, cozily warming the large room.

  “Listen to me. I am Colleta Brine-Billard … you may call me Bri.” Dira, noticing the Parisian-sounding accent, watched Bri hurry into a small hallway on the right.

  A moment later, Bri said, “In here … you need to hurry!”

  Dira followed her voice into a lavatory area with an adjoining closet—large enough to park a city bus. Bri reached up to a second row of hanging clothes and pulled a garment down. Holding it up—she assessed it, while looking over to Dira with her head cocked.

  “This might fit you. We’re close to the same size.”

  Dira thought she might actually be a tad taller than Bri, but she was right. They were pretty close in size.

  “You’ll need something that won’t slow you down. I’m thinking leggings … something well-suited for the cold.”

  “Why would you … a queen … be helping me? I don’t understand … the king … your husband … we …”

  “Murdered him,” Bri stated flatly, pulling down another garment. “… and I am no queen … there are more appropriate names for what I am.”

  The word murder didn’t seem to fit, but Dira didn’t even try to sanitize Bri’s statement.

  “Dira … is it?”

  Dira quietly nodded assent.

  “Truth is … I am now in your debt. Yes, I was one of several of his … courtesans… but he was a disgusting pig. Here, all of them are pigs, yet this type of life is all I’ve ever known. I was abducted from my world, Charlarouge, as a small child. Here, try these on. Hurry!”

  It took another five minute before Dira was completely dressed in leggings, a wraparound blouse, and a fur-lined short jacket. Mid-calf leather boots completed the ensemble. Rushing, Dira took a quick look at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. It all worked together. After clipping the SuitPac device to her waistband, she tried to figure out where it was best to put the small sword.

  “You know how to use that? That Sommis Blade?” Bri asked.

  Dira looked down at the still-sheathed weapon and shook her head.

  Bri took it from her and pulled the sword free of its sheath—exposing the lethal-looking reflective blade. “An incredibly sharp weapon. A Thorian warrior’s weapon.” She made a slicing motion before replacing the blade into the sheath. She then turned the sheath sideways and pointed to an inset section. “You grip the handle like this … your forefinger rests in here. Squeeze it, while flicking the weapon … like this.”

  Startled, Dira nearly screamed as a bolt of energy passed just inches above her left shoulder. She turned to see a charred crater in the mirror—centered exactly where Dira’s heart would be.

  She handed the weapon back to Dira. “If you’re caught with that, you’ll be executed. Hide it in your jacket.”

  With or without the weapon, Dira was certain her fate had been sealed hours ago anyway. She found a deep, perfectly sword-shaped pocket inside the lining of her jacket and secured the weapon in there. She caught Bri’s brief smile.

  Bri, in the midst of changing her own clothes, had turned away. Dira glanced at her—at her exposed back. There were old scars there and several newer red lacerations. When Bri turned sideways to slide on leggings, Dira observed her round belly.

  “How far along are you?” Dira asked.

  “Thirteen months.”

  “Wow … how long is your kind’s gestation period?”

  Bri pulled on a long-sleeve shirt. One that fully covered her upper body. She gave Dira a sideways glance. “Look, we are not friends, Dira. Please do not mistake my actions for anything more than what they are. That of being mutually beneficial for the two of us … nothing more. We must go. Come … hurry!” she said, heading back in the direction of the main room.

  “We? You’re coming with me?”

  “Of course I am. With the king and his son dead … I’d rather die trying to escape than become another prince’s or some new lord’s whore. I will lead you to your ship. There is a secret underground passage … then you will take me away from this foul place. You will take me home to Charlarouge … yes?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Bri opened the door and peered out. “Hurry, follow close behind … keep up!”

  Dira thought about the many crewmembers, including her father-in-law, still imprisoned within the walls of Bastille Spire. Could she really just leave them behind? She made a mental promise to herself, I’ll be back for you … I promise.

  Chapter 26

  Lord Digby casually leaned against one of the few tables still upright, patiently waiting for the prisoner to be brought up from Bastille Spire’s lower dungeon. He stared at what remained of his server banks at the back of the room, as smoke continued to drift up from the obliterated cabinets. The air was saturated with soot, and the smell of smoke and ozone permeated his nostrils. Their evening shift duties over, his coding-warriors were transported back to their dormitories, some twenty-five miles away.

  He thought about Princess Dira Caparri. She had had a busy evening. First, she was present when King Gallderaunt was strangled to death by Omni Reynolds. Then, no more than an hour later, she’d blown-off Prince Lhore Gallderaunt’s head in an upstairs bathroom. How he’d love to have witnessed that deed first hand! And now this! He looked about the room, with its upturned tables and destroyed servers. Smiling, he pictured the violet-skinned Jhardonian, sudde
nly naked, running for her life out these very doors. What an exciting creature! Of course they would find her. She could hide, but eventually they would find her. Then, what to do with her? His smile remained. She had, inadvertently, saved him the trouble of having to personally kill both the king and his idiot son. Nothing worse than figureheads believing they held any real power. Whatever emotional ties the populace had to the monarchy would soon pass away—relegated to the annals of past history. Lord Digby reflected on his own unprecedented accomplishments. In a relatively short period of time, the once small and unassuming Sommis of Adriark star system had become the de facto power within the entire sector. And soon he would become its de facto leader—a leader with far-reaching ambitions—who would, using minimal force, continue to conquer great empires and vast areas of space. It was intelligence and cunning that won wars—not necessarily brute force. But he had to admit that there had been some setbacks. Had he overreached? The king’s fleet, now on the verge of glorious triumph over the enemy within Alliance space, may have left their homeland vulnerable to attack, having kept behind only a handful of Vicksol ships. Virtually all of their warship assets were streaming toward victory many light-years away. The Star Watch vessels, the Aquarius, and, more recently, the Jumelle, were supposed to be fully entrenched into their own military by now, already defending local space with their sophisticated Caldurian technology. Providing more than enough defense to thwart even the most aggressive surprise attack. But the Aquarius had recently escaped. Only a temporary setback as the ship would soon be recaptured. Digby shook his head. Granger. He should have anticipated the old Caldurian’s deceit. Now he was gone, with both his reward and the Aquarius. But the ship was incapable of defending herself entirely. And as of two hours ago, his team of coding warriors had found a means to remotely bring down the Aquarius’s propulsion system, using a new piggyback virus. Soon the Aquarius would be idly adrift in space where she would first be secured and then towed back to Xavier Station 35.