Ricket (Star Watch Book 2) Read online

  “You pride yourselves on being the brightest race in the universe … why can’t your scientists figure that one out?”

  “The same technology is integrated into everything … all our advances utilize multiverse transmutation. Habitats, phase-shifting, DeckPorts, virtual storage of munitions … everything is based on the same technology.”

  Jason knew where he was going: Zip accelerators. Found on the Minian, and apparently on other large Caldurian ships, they were necessary for traveling into the multiverse. Ricket had explained to him that the Zip accelerators, located on the Minian, came from Alurian … a planet one hundred and thirty light-years from Earth—part of the Corian Nez constellation. The Zip technology was Alurian, not Caldurian.

  Moe continued, “Zip accelerator technology has been duplicated, scaled down from the massive units found within Master Class vessel Zip Farms, to tiny, simplified, near-molecular-sized units, which are used for other devices … including our own internal nanotech.” Moe then gestured toward his head. “So far, only the larger Zip accelerators have exhibited such malfunctions but our scientists assure us that it is only a matter of time before all our Zip accelerator technology will be similarly affected.”

  Moe looked at Jason with an expression that conveyed the irony of it all. “I’ve already detected that you have the same internal technology—albeit, several generations behind ours. You too will be affected. Ultimately, both our, and your, mortality is at stake here.”

  Jason let that sink in. His entire crew, Dira, Nan, the kids, were dependent on their internal Caldurian nanotech devices.

  “What is it you need?”

  “An original, not replicated, Zip accelerator … such as the one on the Minian.”

  “Why not just ask? It’s a problem we are all faced with … why not work in concert with us?”

  Moe didn’t answer. Curly and Larry stayed quiet as well.

  Then the reason hit him, and Jason knew exactly why. “All your advances … your subsequent dominance over those you encounter … is based on that technology. Sure, you’ve been able to integrate it into miraculous devices. Been able to exploit it in ways that are truly amazing. But your society doesn’t fully understand the technology … at least, not completely. What would happen if someone else … another society … figures it out? Hell, they could hold that over you. Replace you as the dominant player.” Jason chuckled at the thought of that. “You assholes.”

  It was starting to make sense. Yes, they needed the Minian and the original Zip accelerators. But they needed something more, as well. Someone smart enough to be free of the Caldurian mindset—outside the box. Ricket! If anyone could figure out old Alurian technology, since that society no longer exists, it would be Ricket.

  “You’ll permit us to return to our vessels now, since we provided you with all the information you asked for.” Moe stared across at Jason.

  “Maybe. But certainly not before we get our people back. I suggest you put your heads together and come up with a better way for us to infiltrate that ship … the Parcical.”

  * * *

  Jason sat in the dark, in the ready room office, waiting for Admiral Dixon to come to a decision. The truth was, Jason was prepared to disobey his orders, if need be. Thinking about it, there was a good chance Dixon too had nano-devices embedded within his gray matter. If so, his mortality was also at stake.

  He caught the admiral at dinner … or was it lunch there? He was eating at his desk and chewing. And thinking.

  “Damn … are you sure about all this? That those Caldurian captains were telling you the truth?”

  “I’m sure, sir.”

  “Well, that does change things. No matter what havoc Captain Oz continues to cause, it seems our own technological superiority is at stake, and that takes precedence. Not to mention, the many lives within Star Watch and select fleet personnel.”

  “Not to forget the acting-president of the United States,” Jason added.

  Dixon glared back at Jason, knowing full well, not only was Nan his ex-wife, but immensely important to the U.S.’s, and Earth’s, future recovery from the recent Craing war.

  “Fine. You’ll stay on mission in the Arkwane system. You have three days. No more. There are reports coming in that Captain Oz’s fleet could travel as far as Earth. We don’t want another attack in our backyard. Although, he’d be crazy, going up against the might of the Allied … and U.S. fleets. Jason, I want to be kept in the loop … get me updates no less than twice a day. Is that understood, Captain?”

  “Perfectly, Admiral. And I won’t forget about Oz … I have unfinished business with him.”

  The connection ended and Jason was somewhat satisfied he’d gained the admiral’s limited support. Three days would be tight. He rubbed his tired eyes—he needed sleep. He rose and left the ready room, exiting the officer’s suite, and headed toward the bridge.

  Perkins was seated in the command chair.

  The onboard AI announced, “Captain on deck.”

  Perkins stood and relinquished the chair.

  “What’s the situation, XO?”

  “We’re still running cloaked, and in high orbit over Arkwane. We haven’t been scanned and there’s no indication the Caldurians, or the Arkwanians, for that matter, know we’re here.”

  “And the Parcical?”

  “Impossible to tell for sure. If she is there, the vessel must be invisible to sensors … all our scans have come back negative.”

  Jason looked around the Assailant’s cramped bridge at her smaller nighttime, grave-shift crew.

  “One of the Caldurian captains mentioned they were here to pick up a load of something called Palm-Stalk. I wonder if that narrows things down any?”

  Army Ranger, Sergeant Gail Stone, was seated at Gunny Orion’s station. Six feet tall and thin, she wore her platinum-blonde hair crew-cut short, except for her bangs, which angled down across her forehead, nearly covering her eyes. The effect was dramatic and eye-catching, which, Jason figured, was her intention. She turned in her seat, using her fingers to push her bangs away and secure behind one ear. “I wish I had that tidbit of information four hours ago,” she said, then spun back to her board. Her fingers moved quickly as she entered something; soon, her head could be seen nodding up and down. “Of course …” she exclaimed aloud. She turned back around. “That stuff, Palm-Stalk, practically covers the entire planet’s ocean floor. It’s their main crop. What’s interesting, though, is not all gets harvested at the same time. There are only three submerged harvesting stations in use currently.” She pointed to the forward display.

  Jason saw the quickly revolving, bright blue planet. Arkwane was similar to Earth, having white wispy clouds and royal blue oceans, but there were no patches of brown or green, or even gray. Three areas on the planet were circled in red, and within each circle was a much smaller black circle, about the size of Africa on Earth.

  “Those are the harvested areas, and the specific stations for those crops,” Sergeant Stone said pointing, looking proud of herself.

  “Good work, Sergeant. Now tell me at which station sits the Parcical?”

  She continued to study the screen. Her bangs, breaking free from their ear-hold, hung over her eyes. Stone made no attempt to move them back as she stood and approached the display. She raised an arm and pointed at the center-most pair of circles: “Here, Captain. She’s sitting right here.”

  “How do you know?” Perkins asked before Jason could.

  “Crops are disappearing and at an astounding rate … a whole acre at a time. Not simply moving from one location to another, but completely disappearing. That’s some heavy-duty tech causing that.”

  Chapter 13

  Ocean Floor, Arkwane

  Parcical, Norwell’s Workshop

  __________________________

  Ricket was given several tasks to perform by Norwell over the past twenty-four hours. Relatively simple ones, Ricket suspected they were merely tests of some sort. Norwell wanted
to learn, first hand, what Ricket was capable of. His first task was to troubleshoot a malfunctioning replicator—one of three—mounted inside the workshop. He found the problem and had it operational within thirty minutes. His second task was to assess what was needed to get his own internal nanotech devices updated to the latest Caldurian standards. He determined that the upgrades would require micro-hardware modifications, as well as a complete flushing of his internal nanites. Apparently, the billions of nanites currently attending to his bodily needs were far too antiquated to update.

  Norwell, looking over Ricket’s findings, agreed with Ricket’s assessment, and whisked him away to the ship’s small Medical compartment, where he spent about an hour in a MediPod device far more advanced than anything he’d encountered before. At first, he was reluctant to undergo the procedure. Would he somehow lose himself during the process? What would Norwell implant within his physiology? Would he forever be at their calling, no more than an organic droid … the Caldurians at the controls? But Ricket was provided exact details of the procedures—what would be done to him, down to the smallest detail. After reviewing the MediPod’s instruction set, Ricket recognized he had little to fear. In fact, he became excited at the prospect of adding far more capabilities to those he currently possessed … even with his own jury-rigged modifications. Gaining increased internal sensors, enhanced diagnostic capabilities, and better overall cognitive functioning, he would also be provided with the latest communications package. In the end, the procedure was a complete success.

  Ricket’s third and final task was to design a new hand-held sensor device—one that could detect if something was replicated, or was, in fact, an original. Although a far more difficult task, Ricket designed the device within several hours, and had it ready to send to the ship’s phase synthesizer.

  As Norwell, sitting at his workbench, reviewed the sensor device design, Ricket watched the elderly Caldurian. Norwell was dying. Ricket had suspected the scientist of being ill before, but now, with his newly installed array of sensors, he was able to probe the Caldurian’s physiology. What he found was both interesting and disturbing: Embedded within his brain was a ticking time bomb, and it didn’t take a genius to understand the implications. The device had served only one primary purpose—controlling Norwell. Control him, keep him from leaving, make him do what he was directed to do. Briefly, Ricket wondered if such a device was subversively inserted into his own brain, but he dismissed it. The device would be simple to detect, just as he’d done with Norwell.

  Norwell’s ticking time bomb was at the end of its cycle. Leaking radiation was at toxic levels, and even though his internal nanites were doing their best to compensate, they were quickly becoming overtaxed. Norwell, from Ricket’s assessment, had less than a week to live.

  Norwell spoke without looking up from his work. “I sense you’ve been probing around in my head.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I apologize, it was insensitive of me,” Ricket said.

  Norwell turned in his seat and gazed at Ricket. He looked old and tired. The slightest smile crossed his thin lips, and he said, “You have questions. You want to know why.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s complicated. It wasn’t necessary—I’ve always been dedicated to my work … to my people. But fear affects judgment. The Caldurians are an amazing race … we are caring, and devoted to the natural order of things. An empathetic society, we abhor conflict and war. For the most part, our advanced Caldurian technology has allowed us near-perfect existence across numerous realms of the multiverse.”

  Ricket already knew that to be true, but he quietly listened, sensing Norwell’s need to formally express his thoughts.

  “There are but a handful of great minds left among the Caldurian people. I am one of them. But in their fear of losing one of their most important intellects, they have inadvertently killed him. As you’ve undoubtedly discovered, the device implanted in my brain has become caustic to my system. And no, it cannot be removed or tampered with. It cannot be repaired.”

  “I am sorry, Norwell. Are you in much pain?”

  “Yes … much pain, and I am tired.”

  Ricket did not know what to say. He felt sad for the old Caldurian.

  “We have been watching you for many years, Ricket; some you know about. The Caldurian you call Granger observed you undetected, and there were others. So when this latest development began to emerge, the faltering of the Zip accelerators … it was determined that in addition to acquiring the Minian, you would be abducted and convinced to lead our technological efforts into the future. You will take my place as the Caldurian Science Omni: a most auspicious and revered position.”

  Again, Ricket was caught off guard and became tongue tied. Flustered, he looked away.

  Norwell continued, “The third task I gave you … the design of a new sensor device.”

  “Yes, to detect if something was replicated; or was, in fact, an original. Was it not to your liking? I could reevaluate my design and—”

  Norwell raised both palms, gesturing him to stop. “Ricket, the design is fine. What took you thirty minutes … from imagining, to design, to be ready for phase synthesis has stumped the Caldurian science community … including me, for more than thirty years.”

  Ricket looked at the small virtual tab, lying on the workshop counter. It held the design code for the device. He picked it up, weightless in his fingers, then placed it back down on the counter.

  “I cannot stay here. I cannot do what you need me to do, Norwell. My home is with the crew of the Minian.” He searched for a better phrasing: “I have lived two hundred and thirty-six years. I have held esteemed positions among my people, the Craing. I was Chief Scientist … even emperor, at one time. I lost my way … lost my soul to technology, but found it again with the help of strangers, now friends, both figuratively and literally. After two hundred and thirty-six years, I have a family. There is nothing you can say or do to me that would cause me to desert them. Nothing. I am sorry.”

  “I too am sorry, Ricket, as sorry as I am for my own plight. You will not be allowed to leave … not ever. You might not have an embedded device implanted in your brain, but technology, being what it is at this point in time, made that unnecessary.”

  Ricket quickly reviewed the code on the updated nanotech procedure. Racing line by line, as fast as any AI could, he mentally assembled and disassembled the embedded, elegant and intricate, programming. And there it was, hidden in plain sight: Two lines of code that diametrically opposed each other. Two simple lines of code, innocuous, that for all intent and purpose, were no different than the ticking time bomb embedded in Norwell’s brain.

  “I did not see it. Clever … very clever,” Ricket said. “This was your program … I see your technique, the artistry in the language … in the programming. It was fine work, Norwell.”

  Moisture welled in his eyes and a single tear wet the old scientist’s cheek. “I am sorry … more than you will ever know. I should not have done this to you. As ordered … I placed the same shackles, which have tormented me for so many years, onto you. And, unfortunately, your plight, should you not stay here, on board the Parcical, would still be the same. Your death won’t be instantaneous … but there will be degradation of the nano-devices, as they become toxic—soon raging infections, which will be painful and irreversible. Here, Ricket, is your home, for as long as you live.”

  Ricket reexamined Norwell’s internal code and instantly knew that Norwell’s attempt to imprison him would be relatively easy for him to extricate. He would not tell this to Norwell … no need to disappoint the dying scientist.

  Chapter 14

  Open Space, Near Arkwane

  Assailant, Captain’s Quarters

  __________________________

  At 0400, Jason had no sooner rested his head on the pillow than the ship’s klaxon began to wail a call to battle stations. In less than two minutes, he’d dressed and returned to the bridge.


  “What the hell’s going on?”

  Out of breath, Orion too ran into the bridge and quickly moved to the tactical station, sitting down next to Sergeant Stone.

  Stone said, “Captain, there are twelve Master Class Caldurian vessels now moving into local space. Four are the same ships we encountered earlier. We only got visual confirmation of their presence after you’d left the bridge.”

  “I understand, Sergeant. Hand everything over to Gunny; you’re relieved until your next shift.”

  Jason could see the young tactical specialist didn’t want to miss any of the coming action.

  Orion said, “She can stay, if she wants. I could use her help keeping a visual on so many hard-to-track targets.”

  “That’s fine then.”

  Perkins relinquished the command chair, as the rest of the early-morning shift began filing in, replacing their counterparts. One after another, a fresh bridge crew took over.

  “There!” Sergeant Stone yelled, startling Jason and everyone else on the bridge. “Did you see that? That glimmer, at the planet’s outer atmosphere?”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Jason asked.

  “It was only for a second, but I saw the perfect contour of a cloaked vessel, just now leaving the planet. Egg-shaped … and she was moving fast. Definitely a ship. The Parcical … I just know it.”

  Jason looked to Orion for confirmation.

  “I didn’t see it … but I’d go with Stone’s evaluation … I trained her … she’s pretty good.”

  The two females exchanged quick smiles and bumped fists.

  “Tell me we’re still cloaked and nobody knows we’re here,” Jason said.

  “Affirmative on that, Captain. Nothing on comms,” Seaman Gordon said.

  “Captain, there’s an interchange wormhole forming two million miles off our stern. All vessels in our area are moving in that direction,” McNeil reported.