Scrapyard LEGACY (Star Watch Book 6) Read online

  Jason said, “Pisces, tell me where the crew has gone.”

  The ship’s AI responded, “Last logged location of crew personnel is within the Pisces Zoo.”

  Jason and Boomer both smiled. “That makes sense,” she said. “It’s what I’d do too if the ship suddenly became an out-of-control oven. Escape into a habitat and wait to be rescued.”

  “Captain … I would like to deliver this corpse to Medical’s cold storage.”

  “That’s fine, Ricket. Meet us in the Zoo as soon as you can. On second thought, take one of the CBDs with you. I don’t want anyone moving about the ship unprotected.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  One of the CBDs entered the bridge, moving directly to the dead bridge officer. Leaning over, one droid picked up the body in two of its four articulating arms. Briefly, Jason wondered if Ricket was somehow able to communicate with the droids via mental commands. Yes, of course he could.

  * * *

  The Zoo was strewn with mismatched items of discarded clothing, power bar wrappers, and other bits of trash. It looked as if hundreds, if not thousands, of crewmembers and Sharks had made a quick exodus through here. Like following breadcrumbs, it was an easy task finding the exact habitat portal the Pisces crew escaped within.

  Jason would have picked the same portal, HAB 170, home to a select group of rhino-warriors—notably, the home of his close friend Traveler. He chuckled to himself, thinking about Traveler’s response to the hordes of crewmembers now invading his solitude. In recent years, the old rhino-warrior had become more and more reclusive, to the point that he rarely visited the distant home of most of his fellow rhinos. Years back, the majority settled in the area of North Korea, back on Earth.

  Jason waited for the rest of the group to re-assemble in front of the portal window. Ricket and his accompanying CBD were the last to arrive. Standing before the two seven-foot-tall droids, he instructed, “Stay here … guard the entrance.”

  The droids’ only response was a synchronized rapid back-and-forth spinning of their rail gun heads.

  Ricket entered the access code and the habitat’s portal window opened. Together, they all stepped into the desert-like terrain of HAB 170. It was late afternoon and he could barely make out the purple line of low mountains in the far distance. Closer, but still far off, Jason watched as billowing black smoke rose into the air. He wasn’t particularly worried. Traveler, undoubtedly, was gearing up dinner for his numerous guests.

  As the portal closed behind them, Jason configured his HUD for a group phase-shift. They flashed away together.

  Simultaneously, they arrived one hundred yards away from the rhino-warriors’ campsite. Jason took in the various dome-like structures, roughly positioned in a circle around the campsite. Mid-center in the large open area, a raging bonfire blazed. No fewer than twenty rhino-warriors systematically fed the immense fire, adding more and more timber. Too many of the Pisces’s crew to count stood around the encampment, some alone—some in small groups. Jason felt the heavy weight of guilt. Trees here were in a very short supply. Feeding a blaze this size would set the small community of rhinos way back—potentially affect their lives for months, even years. He scanned the crowd.

  “Is that him, Dad? Is that Captain Baxtor?” Boomer asked, pointing to a large red-uniformed man addressing a group of other officers.

  “Yeah … that’s him. But I’m looking for someone else. For Traveler.”

  Chapter 36

  Traveler walked toward them. His seven-foot-tall frame strode through the bonfire’s low heavy smoke like some kind of action movie character, coming to a stop in front of Jason and Boomer.

  Before Jason could speak, Ricket hurried up to them and said, “Traveler … we will replace the timber. I will extend the habitat, open more forestlands. I know how to do that now.”

  Jason raised a brow at Ricket’s ready inclination to expand the habitat so effortlessly. Information he could thank Ol’ Gus for, he knew. He also wondered if Ricket would need supervision in the future. Expanding habitats without prior approval could be a problem.

  Traveler simply grunted, snorting a snotty mist into the air. Jason stepped forward, his hand outstretched, and Traveler clasped it—enveloped it—within his own enormous grip.

  “Sorry about all this, Traveler,” Jason said. “Offering these folks a place to seek refuge … well, it’s appreciated. As soon as you tire of them, have them return to their ship.”

  “Who is it that attacks with such cowardice? Who hides behind technology … trickery … to defeat an enemy? I see no honor in this.”

  “I agree, Traveler. No honor at all. But the ones responsible are very smart. Cunning. We are at war, Traveler, perhaps the greatest war yet.”

  Traveler snorted again—visibly agitated.

  “Not your fight, my friend. You’ve already done your time wielding the heavy hammer. Once we are out of your hair, you can return to your quiet contemplations and hunting the furlong bear.”

  Traveler did not respond. Turning back toward the great bonfire, he said, “I must go. We will feast tonight. You, Ricket, and Boomer must also stay. I have missed my friends.”

  No sooner had Traveler hurried off than District Two Commander John Baxtor, Captain of the Pisces, ambled over with three senior officers.

  “I thought that was you milling around over here, Captain,” Baxtor said, holding out a hand, which Jason shook, nodding then at Baxtor’s first officer and two lieutenants.

  “I need to give you an update on your ship, Captain,” Jason said.

  Baxtor’s thick salt-and-pepper hair, cascading low over his narrow face, made his forehead appear unnaturally narrow. Bushy white eyebrows, sprouted above bright blue eyes, seemed to reach upward, hoping to gain distance. He tilted his head at Jason, like the prospect of an update was a novel one.

  Jason continued, “We boarded your ship within the last hour. As I am sure you are well aware, Caldurian technology aboard the Pisces was targeted … via a remote attack. The environmental systems were turned against you, heat levels spiking close to two hundred degrees. Your ship, like other Star Watch vessels, was infected with something called the Ingress Virus.”

  Captain Baxtor nodded rapidly. “Yes, yes … Captain, all’s well and good.” He splayed his arms out, toward his fellow crewmembers and the distant bonfire. “But now is the time for giving thanks; to take a breather and bond with one another. There’s plenty of time for business later, yes?”

  Jason stared blankly at the captain and his two officers. They wore the same all’s-well expression. He didn’t return the captain’s out of place smile. “And what about the deceased deck officer we found on your bridge? Any concerns about her?”

  Baxtor, giving a pained expression, replied, “Now that remark is uncalled for, Captain. Of course, I am concerned with the seaman’s … Lorraine’s … demise. We all mourn her loss.”

  Ricket took a step forward and, craning his neck up, stared at Captain Baxtor. He said, “Captain … may I ask you a question?”

  Baxtor’s face morphed into a wide smile. Lowering himself down with hands on knees, as if addressing a small child, he replied, “Of course, my little friend … ask whatever you like.”

  “Thank you, sir. Have you recently gone through any MediPod sessions … perhaps updates with HyperLearning?”

  Baxtor thought about that for a moment, then nodded his head, as did the three Pisces officers. “You know, we have. Most of the crew has been cycled through Medical. I like to stay current with all medical directives. If I’m not mistaken, it was your medical officer Dira who sent out the fleet-wide request.”

  “What are you thinking, Ricket?” Jason asked, taking him aside.

  “I have not witnessed this phenomenon before, Captain. It seems as if the crew, at least those who underwent a recent update to their nano-devices, have been imbued with personality alterations. Maybe artificially increased dopamine secretions into the bloodstream.”

  “Lik
e having their backbones … their fight … taken away?”

  “That seems to be the case, Captain.”

  Baxtor and his two officers stood together, taking in the view of the bonfire. One of them, Jason wasn’t sure which, began to hum. Soon the others joined in, humming the same tune.

  “How do you fix them?” Boomer asked Ricket, as Ryan joined the group.

  Smiling toward the turned away, still humming Pisces officers, Ryan remarked, “Whatever they’re smoking … I want some.”

  Ricket said, “As soon as these crewmembers reenter the Pisces proper, the crew’s nano-devices may restore back to their originally installed versions. I cannot be sure, though. They could be stuck like this …”

  “Like, indefinitely?” Jason asked, his growing impatience with the nearby humming clearly evident.

  “Onboard MediPods have been updated with the new patch. At least others will not be affected, Captain.”

  Suddenly impatience turned to anger within Jason. The attacks kept coming. No sooner had they progressed tackling one concern than they were bombarded with another.

  * * *

  For two hours they sat in a circle around the fire—appreciating their hosts’ hospitality. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that none of the one hundred-plus rhino-warriors partook in the feast of wild game, roasted on skewers with carrot-like vegetable. Jason, Boomer and Ricket graciously declined the meal offering, while Ryan and the two recruits devoured the sizzling hot meat with no hesitation. Noticing Boomer glowering at Ryan, giving him another venomous stare, Jason still didn’t get what the beef was between them.

  “You know you two are related … right? Cousins on your mother’s side,” he said, leaning in to Boomer.

  “Ugh,” she said, making a sour expression. “I think I remember him from when we were kids … annoying then and annoying now.”

  * * *

  The bonfire was nearly out—nothing more than glowing embers remaining. Standing alone, Jason scanned the surrounding nighttime encampment and found a virtual sea of sedentary crewmen splayed about him. Jason then spotted Traveler. He and several rhinos were huddled together some distance away. As Jason approached, Traveler’s compatriots moved off.

  “Again … I apologize,” Jason said. “Please tell your kin that their graciousness, and yours, is much appreciated. And I promise you, Traveler, just as soon as possible … wild game will be replenished here … and then some.”

  “You owe me no thanks … and no apologies. Many times you have fought on behalf of the rhino-warrior.”

  “I’m going to clear everyone out of here now. It’s time they get involved in the fight. So if you’ll do me one more thing … put out what still remains of the fire. I suspect the chilly air will be a good motivator to head them back to the Pisces.”

  * * *

  It took close to an hour to wrangle every crewmember aboard the ship. Jason, Boomer, Ryan and Ricket used multiple group phase-shifts—from the encampment to the portal window. Jason’s team then herded the listless crew through the portal and into the Pisces. Relieved, Jason saw that within thirty seconds of stepping onto the ship’s deck, the crew began to snap out from their funk-like state. Then, with a renewed sense of purpose, they hurried off to their respective posts and duties.

  Jason waited as Captain Baxtor and the two lieutenants always in his attendance brought up the rear and stepped aboard the ship. The Pisces’s captain eyeballed the two Caldurian battle droids, standing nearby at attention. Ryan and Boomer headed off deep in conversation.

  As the networked Ingress Virus patch went to work on him, Captain Baxtor, blinking his eyes, inhaled deeply. Then, as if all mental cobwebs had been swept away, his eyes darted around his surroundings, settling on Jason.

  “My ship! Seaman Lorraine?”

  “The Pisces is fine … at least now. Ricket has removed all traces of the Ingress Virus.”

  Captain Baxtor suddenly looked embarrassed. Jason surmised he was thinking back to recent events; his shirking of duties as the commanding officer for far too many hours.

  “Look, Captain Baxtor … I need to get going. We are at war. A war like no other. My priority is getting every Star Watch ship into the fight. That means getting the Pisces back to the Sol System, where we are now assembling the fleet.”

  Baxtor took that in. “My orders are to defend my district. To watch over District Two.”

  “I’m issuing you new orders, Captain. Get this ship back to Sol … and do so immediately.”

  “I can’t do that, Captain Reynolds. Prior to this … invasion … I spoke with Admiral Mayweather, the last communiqué that got through. His orders were clear: stay and defend my Planetary Alliance district at all costs. He is an admiral … you are a captain.”

  “Here’s the thing, Captain. One hundred and fifty Vicksol ST66 warships will soon enter the Sol System. There is no viable Alliance or U.S. fleet there to make a stand except for the Star Watch vessels I’m assembling. If we don’t make a combined stand … a show of Caldurian warship might … theirs will be a very short-lived invasion. Liberty Station will be the first to go and, not long after that, Earth. By the time the enemy fleet arrives here … you will be all alone. The Pisces will be swatted down like an insubstantial fruit fly. And you, Captain Baxtor, will be held responsible for that. Now, you can either follow my directives or relinquish your command. I’ll assign another officer here who actually has a functioning brain.”

  Baxtor’s face flushed red—his jaw muscles visibly clenched. Jason ignored the two lieutenants, standing nearby while puffing out their chests in a show of solidarity with their captain.

  Baxtor said, “You said it yourself, the Pisces is now fully operational. She is not a vessel you want to go up against, Captain. Nor am I a man to be trifled with.”

  Jason stared back at the old windbag. How was it possible he didn’t see the simple logic of complying with his orders? Shit! It didn’t have to be like this. Jason took a step closer to Baxtor, close enough to smell undigested game on his hot breath. “Less than ten miles out is the Parcical. She is the newest, most formidable Caldurian warship in the known universe. Do not test me, Captain. I will destroy this ship before I let her get into the hands of the enemy … the Sommis of Adriark.”

  Jason quickly noticed, though slightly behind him and off to the side, that the two lieutenants had quietly initialized their combat suits—each pointing their integrated wrist plasma cannons at his back. He knew Boomer and Ryan, as well as the two recruits, had left the Zoo, but Ricket was still present. Spotting him in his peripheral vision, Jason smiled.

  Both Caldurian battle droids came alive. They moved with incredible speed, their torsos spinning the six rail-guns between them. Metallic clicks could be heard—the sound of rounds being chambered. In less than a second, the towering robots stood up against the two lieutenants—muzzles pressed against their heads.

  Jason glanced down at Ricket and gave him an appreciative wink. “Captain Baxtor, what’s it going to be? Step down as captain, death by two Caldurian battle droids, or comply with my orders? It’s up to you.”

  Jason knew his question was pretty much moot at this point. The three Pisces officers looked scared. And something in the air smelled fetid. It seemed one, maybe more, had fouled his britches.

  Chapter 37

  Lord Digby was the first to exit the wide, single-level, transport shuttle. The stopover at the space station would be less than an hour—a brief stay for him and the two hundred and ninety-seven young coding warriors traveling with him. Thorian Banal was no longer their home. It was time for the second phase of operations to start.

  One by one, they filed past. Quiet and disciplined, they passed him, repeating the same exact word, over and over again. Turning their heads, all made eye contact, needing reassurance they were still in his good graces—that they hadn’t disappointed him in some way. Digby had to admit he did have a measure of affection for them; maybe more like appreciation. It wasn’t as if they
were real … like other organic sentient beings. No, in their case, their looks were highly deceiving. They only looked humanoid, but they weren’t—not completely anyway. They were synthetic-humans, typically called Synths. Over time, at least seventy percent of their original organic components had been replaced with manufactured synthetic parts.

  As the synths streamed past, Digby’s mind flashed back five years—to the moment when everything changed. When he personally changed everything. As the king’s emissary to the distant world Marilom-Hath, basically on a trade mission with technologically advanced, highly intelligent, albeit unaggressive, citizens, he endured one seemingly endless tour after another—visiting hospitals, manufacturing plants, government buildings, and schools. Eventually, though, he began to pay attention. Some of the children—orphans mostly—were being experimented on. Marilom-Hath apparently didn’t possess the same moral disposition of other progressive societies. They were blindly unaware there was anything wrong with experimenting on parentless kids. Scientific programs such as theirs were actually considered benevolent acts. It was during one such interminably long tour that Digby, first hand, witnessed a classroom full of brilliant nine- and ten-year-old synthetics—already learning and comprehending material far beyond anything taught, even at university level, on Thorian Banal. On that particular day, they were learning variant communication protocols for manufacturing robot AIs. Digby learned there were hundreds of similar young synth boys enrolled in various programs. Soon after that, Digby earned his Lordship title—bringing his inter-world negotiating skills to a whole new level. New trade agreements between Thorian Banal and Marilom-Hath included provisions for the latter to acquire a good number of these young geniuses. Now, as the last Synth moved past him, one more time he heard the same word, Father.