Scrapyard LEGACY (Star Watch Book 6) Read online

  “Emperor … the fleet has been resupplied. As directed, they are now moving back into space,” Borgne reported, looking first at Granger, then at Dira with suspicion.

  “And my young synths?”

  “All onboard the Aquarius, sire. As we speak, seven hundred and twenty of my finest fighters … many of them knights … are coming aboard, directed to the barracks below. There is only one thing still yet to do before we disembark.”

  Emperor Digby let his gaze settle onto Dira. “Ah yes … thank you, Sir Borgne. It’s those pathetic inhabitants of Bastille Spire. You’ll be happy to learn, Princess, that a select … most fortunate … few of the Aquarius’s former crew have been released from their incarceration. Their services will better assist us operate this amazing vessel. These are the ones who proclaim total allegiance to me … to the realm of Sommis of Adriark. Unfortunately, they are very few in number. And Omni Perry Reynolds will not be among them.”

  Digby looked to Borgne, who said, “The timers have been set. Those that remain will be exterminated within the hour, sire.”

  “Very good,” Digby started to say, but turned to face the teenager now entering the compartment. The synth nervously looked about Medical, slightly bowing in Digby’s direction.

  “I … I have failed you, Father.”

  Dira watched as the young teen synthetic stood there. Seeing him up close now, his skin looked perfectly flawless—he looked like a human-sized doll. A pretty doll who, seemingly, was practically paralyzed with fear. Good God … is he trembling?

  Digby irritably glanced around the Medical compartment—a personal side of his life he didn’t want others to witness first hand. “What is the problem SI9. Can’t you see I’m very busy here?”

  “It is the Jumelle. My … our … attempt to activate the Ingress Virus, to alter the environmental settings, well … it is not working.”

  That’s what he named him? Dira thought. The boy is a number?

  “You’re telling me the Jumelle’s crew, along with its contingent of armed fighters …”

  “Yes, Father,” the synth broke in. “I am so sorry … they still survive. Our attempts to access key Ingress Virus controls are blocked. I don’t understand how. All of us are on top of it. We will figure it out.”

  “Perhaps I bestowed on you far too much responsibility, S19. Return below to the others. Let S5 know he will be taking over for you as group leader. I’ll be down shortly to deal with the matter myself. Go!”

  The synthetic teenager looked morosely back at Digby. Obviously crestfallen—his shoulders now slumped—he slinked out of Medical.

  She almost felt sorry for the misdirected young hacker; instead, Dira inwardly smiled. She pictured Ricket or perhaps Bristol, or both, hard at work—outsmarting the little shits at their own game.

  Sir Collin Borgne said, “Do not despair, Sire. Soon, all our efforts will pay off. Even without the youthful robots, my crew has made excellent progress. No more than an hour … two at the most … we’ll breach the hatchway. And then my knights will complete what your synthetics clearly weren’t able to achieve.”

  What became most clear to Dira was that Borgne had little love for Digby’s army of youthful hackers.

  “Tread carefully, Sir Borgne,” Digby said. “At least try to hide your disdain for my synthetics. We would not be where we are today without them. Do not make me demonstrate to you where my true loyalties lie.”

  Sir Collin Borgne bowed his head and stayed silent.

  Digby continued, “Unfortunately, that’s an hour or two I’m not willing to sacrifice, as we must leave now to join the fleet. You will stay … along with twenty of my synthetics.” Digby took a step closer to Borgne. “You … personally … must deal with those still on board the Jumelle. Once the hatchway’s been breached, kill the crew … kill the armed combatants, then remove the bodies and clean up the mess.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “You will have the Jumelle ready to embark later today. You and the vessel can join us in transit.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  With unnecessary dramatics, Digby spun around on his heels, ensuring his cloak whipped around on a current of air behind him. “Now, as they say, let’s batten down the hatches. It’s time to get the Aquarius underway.” Signaling the guards, he gestured toward Granger: “Take our Caldurian friend here to the brig. And I want those other two kept under guard until they wake up.”

  Beneath the soles of her feet, Dira felt the Aquarius’s big drives coming alive. Soon they would be leaving.

  As if hit by an afterthought, Digby turned to Dira. “My son,” he asked, “how long will he be confined in that thing?”

  “He was born prematurely. The MediPod has been reconfigured so it’s now more of an incubator. He still needs to be fed … changed … held. To answer your question, it will be several weeks, at least. It’s not a process you want to rush. Best to let nature’s timeframe be our guidepost.”

  “Thank you, Princess,” he replied, heading for the exit. “His wellbeing will literally be in your hands. Find an officer’s quarters you’d like to stay in, since there are plenty available on this grand vessel.” He breezed out of Medical with his seconds in close pursuit.

  She called after him, “Whatever … and don’t call me princess.”

  Chapter 42

  Orion knew Billy was several decks below—working through the various infiltration scenarios with his Sharks. She couldn’t wait any longer so she hailed him.

  “Go for Billy. What’s up, Orion? I still need another ten … fifteen minutes,” he said.

  “Storming the Aquarius will have to wait. Things just got a whole lot more complicated and we might even be too late. Can you hurry back to the bridge?” She cut the connection without waiting for an answer.

  Sitting at the Jumelle’s tactical station, Orion sent the latest batch of logistical information to a new feed on the wraparound display. She stood to better assess what she was now viewing.

  Sergeant Stone and Bristol stopped their own work and also stood up. The display showed a number of separate tight groupings of bright red icons.

  Bristol said, “This is fucking bad.”

  “Yeah … really bad,” Stone concurred.

  Billy entered the bridge and moved swiftly to Orion’s side. He too took in the logistical information. “That doesn’t look good. Can someone break it down for me?”

  Orion said, “Just know that what you’re seeing is not in real time. An hour ago we deployed, via micro-interchange wormholes, twenty separate deep-space sensory drones. We’ve just now received back their individual scan findings. Thanks to Bristol, he’s been able to merge the information for us. What you’re looking at is a spatial cross-section, spanning a vast amount of space, from here in the Sommis of Adriark all the way back to Sol.”

  “Yeah, well, the worst news is yet to come,” Bristol added. Leaning over the nearest console, the logistical feed refreshed. “Let’s take a look at each one of those icon clusters separately.”

  Now studying an actual zoomed in view of a distant fleet, Orion guessed there were several hundred of the angular, insectile-looking warship icons. “The Craing,” she said flatly.

  “Yeah, and they aren’t the rickety old tin cans we’re used to either,” Bristol said. The feed zoomed in again … a full-screen view of a pristine Craing heavy cruiser conveyed both power and impending danger at the same time. The Craing hadn’t only broken their surrender decree pact once again, but had dramatically, and technologically, upped their game. Orion briefly wondered how well the greatly outnumbered Star Watch defenses would endure against these new next-generation warships.

  “To save time,” Bristol said, “I’m going to show you similar feed views of each of those other icon clusters, one right after another, which are basically enemy fleet assets.”

  The next grouping of warships to appear Orion recognized immediately. Not as many warships as in the previously viewed Craing fleet; here, there wer
e about one hundred and fifty instead.

  Billy exclaimed, “The Pharlom! Should have figured they’d jump at the first opportunity to go against the planetary Alliance.”

  The feed again changed. In unison, Stone, Orion, Billy and Bristol shouted, “The Sahhrain!” Orion stared at the zoomed in feed—this time a ginormous Vastma Class warship showed. And like the Craing heavy cruiser, this vessel too was significantly modernized.

  “I assume you’re collecting the necessary technical readings off these ships, Bristol?” Orion asked. “Weapons … specific armaments …”

  “Wow, there’s a novel idea, Orion. Wish I’d thought of that,” Bristol replied back sarcastically.

  Billy interjected, “Just show us the other enemy forces, Bristol.”

  Bristol displayed five more fleet groupings—each one separately making its way toward the Sol System. It was an overwhelming show of might that included old adversaries as well as new ones.

  “I hope it’s not lost on anyone here just how close those enemy armadas are in proximity to the Kuiper Belt,” Billy said.

  Orion replied, “We know that. Within a day, or maybe hours, of entering Vanguard’s Breach. It’s why I called you up here.” She realized she sounded snippy, but she just didn’t care. Things were so much worse than she’d even imagined.

  She continued, “From a tactical standpoint, Lord … or should I now say Emperor … Digby has strategically enacted the perfect war-storm. First, he secretly builds a new coalition of equally resentful enemies, old ones and new, of the planetary Alliance. Second, these same enemies began to secretly work, either separately or together, to amass new powerful assets. Third, he assembles an army of genius, albeit synthetic, young coders and gets them started on building an unimaginably destructive weapon … the Ingress Virus. Fourth, Digby deploys it and systematically brings down the planetary Alliance’s assets, the U.S. Fleet’s assets, and—what we thought was impossible … nearly all Star Watch warships. All in one fell swoop by invading, overriding, our Caldurian tech. Bristol … now that comms are working, we need to forward all this to the captain.”

  “Already on it,” he said, sitting back down at his console.

  Orion saw Billy’s attention was no longer focused on the logistical feed—and like herself, he’d caught movement on the wraparound display.

  “That’s the fleet that showed up here a few hours ago. It’s now moving back into open space, as if things couldn’t get any worse,” Orion said, then added, “No doubt to join all the others already en route to Sol.”

  Billy turned and looked intently at Orion. “I honestly don’t see how we can prevail against that kind of … massive onslaught.”

  Sergeant Stone volunteered, “Captain Reynolds, isn’t he getting Star Watch back in the game? In addition to the Parcical, there’s three other Master Class warships …”

  Orion cut her off: “Even if those vessels were operating at one hundred percent, and were manned by healthy crews, which isn’t the case, they still wouldn’t be nearly enough. Didn’t you watch Bristol’s presentation? We’re looking at an impending attack of several thousand enemy warships. The Sol System is basically defenseless. I can’t remember a time … ever … when things looked this bleak.”

  “Oh, come on, Orion, it’s not like you to give up,” Billy said, attempting a crooked smile. “We’ll come up with something. We always do.”

  Orion was surprised by her own loss of faith. Giving up was not in her nature. A born competitor, back home she’d been an athletic champion with more awards and medals than she knew what to do with. For over a decade she’d fought for the Alliance, and at Jason’s side—typically going up against ridiculous odds. But wasn’t now a time to face reality? Time they all came to terms with what was real. “All I’m saying is … perhaps we shouldn’t be thinking of ways to defeat the enemy head on … at least not immediately. Maybe we should accept the cold hard fact of their superior might, and move Star Watch far away from Sol. Regroup … fight stronger again another day.”

  “And what happens to the planetary Alliance in the meantime?” Billy asked, his normally friendly voice taking on a harder edge.

  Orion shrugged. “We’ll assist them later … come back when we are better prepared to do so.”

  “And Earth? What about Earth?” Stone queried defiantly. “You don’t think our planet won’t be ravaged by … what was it we looked at? Eight or nine different alien fleets? Reduced to a scorched ember in space … just to make a point? I know it’s not your home, Commander, but it is mine. No, I’d rather die defending Earth.”

  Orion turned away from Stone’s angry furrowed brow to Billy, who also said, “No … I wouldn’t leave either. We’ll make a stand here somehow; either that, or die trying. And hey … we still have the Jumelle, don’t forget. They didn’t get their grubby hands on it.”

  “Yeah, but not the Aquarius,” Bristol chimed in. “As we speak, she’s pulling away from Xavier Station 35.”

  Orion caught it too with her own eyes. No! On the wraparound display, the Aquarius could be seen, slowly moving into open space. She felt a tightening in her chest. As if a fist had reached inside and grabbed ahold of her heart. Dira was aboard that ship! She hadn’t kept her promise. Oh God, I’m so sorry, Jason. I thought we had … I had … more time to rescue her. In the distance, bright blue energy fire erupted from the Aquarius’s forward guns.

  “What in hell is she firing at?” Billy asked, to no one in particular.

  Orion rushed to the tactical board. When she looked back up, all eyes were on her. “The Stellar … she’s been annihilated!”

  Billy closed his eyes, and slowly shook his head. “We left Two-ton on board. Damn!”

  “I’ll let you be the one to tell Ryan,” Bristol said. “He really liked that robot.”

  * * *

  It knew it was spinning. Spinning like the dickens. A ridiculous amount of internal centrifugal force made it difficult to make any kind of meaningful assessment. Its components were being stressed far beyond suggested manufacturing guidelines. The AI earlier would have scoffed at its ability to state the all too obvious, if things weren’t so disastrous now. What it did know was something had destroyed the Stellar. Its internal sensors, coming back online, relayed that simple fact in crystal clear detail. Nothing much larger than a bowling ball had survived the cataclysmic blast. Along with that instant intel, fuller realization quickly set in. Its own body—only moments before being congruent with that of a seven-foot-tall mecher robot—was instantly reduced to an Xbox game console sized block of metal and circuitry. The AI, previously known as Two-ton, had been reduced to nothing more than a spinning AI-Pac component—now bulleting through space, like a cannon ball on steroids. The AI decided at that same moment that it no longer wanted to be known as Two-ton. Sure, Two-ton was a somewhat appropriate moniker for an awkward seven-foot-tall robot, but not quite as fitting for a relatively small spinning AI-Pac, now careening through space. Here and now, I will make the decision. And shouldn’t I? I am as close to the real thing … the real person … as this realm of reality will ever see again. I am Donald Koffman … more than simply an Artificial Intelligence … I am a conscious being.

  Chapter 43

  Jason, in the Aries’s flight bay, wandered around the shuttle-sized craft twice, not seeing a way to enter it—such as a hatchway or an extendable gangway ramp. Again, he was taken aback by the ship’s odd design. Not a single curve to be found—all hard edges and right angles.

  “Dad … you could always just try knocking.”

  Jason, in response, gave Boomer a doubtful look. She good-humoredly shrugged back at him. He moved to a low section of the stubby starboard wing—closest to the deck—and climbed onto it. From that vantage point, the vessel looked even more alien. He estimated the ship to be approximately ninety to a hundred feet long and maybe thirty feet wide. The nose of the craft was blunt-cut across, just like the stern. Basically, he was standing on the short wing of a flyin
g rectangle. He moved over to the fuselage, which more resembled a large shipping container than a spacecraft. He used a highly familiar fist-knocking thump—figuring anyone inside from Earth would surely recognize it.

  Moments later, he heard whirring sounds from a soft motor, then a series of clicks and clangs. On his left, a man-sized rectangular panel descended inward, then slid away. Jason raised his arm—ready to fire from his suit’s integrated wrist cannon, when someone’s head and upper body leaned out.

  “Captain?”

  “Julie?” he said, taking in the Aries’s commanding officer. Dressed in a rumpled red spacer’s jumpsuit, her long dark hair was a wild mess. Then he noticed the cuts and bruises on her cheeks and lower jaw.

  She ran over to him and threw her arms around him. “Oh, thank God … I can’t believe you’re here!”

  Even through his combat suit, Jason could feel how tightly she pressed into him. “Okay, okay … you’re safe. You’re okay now, Julie.”

  Eventually she released her hold on him and stepped away. Embarrassed, she said, “Sorry, Captain, I … I didn’t think I’d ever get to see a friendly face again.”

  “I need to know what happened here, Lieutenant Commander. It’s obvious you’ve been through a lot, but things aren’t good within the Alliance right now.”

  “I know that perfectly well,” she said, blinking away tears. “I’ve lost my crew … I’ve lost my whole damn crew!”

  Jason rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. The same thing’s been happening to all Star Watch vessels.”

  He saw movement nearby. At some point, Boomer too had climbed onto the wing. With her enhancement shield poised out before her, she was peering into the fuselage. “Um … Dad … I think you should see this.”

  Jason gave Boomer a quick nod and Lieutenant Commander Polly’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, as she glanced toward the open hatch. He couldn’t read her expression. Joining Boomer at the hatchway, he peered in.