Scrapyard Ship 7: Call to Battle (22 page)

In the end, the trip was one of politics more than anything else. The decision for the Allied worlds to join together, once more, only really ever had one option—there would be no lying low, no hiding from the impending Drac-Vin invasion. It was to be a unified Allied force, led by a commander from Earth—Admiral Reynolds. By the end of the conference, it had been decided … the Alliance would provide him whatever military support they were capable of delivering.

On return, the royal schooner was less than an hour out from Jhardon. Dira sat across from the king, watching him peruse a stack of reports—all demanding the king’s scrupulous attention. Too soon, such matters would be her responsibility.
Do I have what the position demands
? She couldn’t imagine she’d ever possess anywhere near the kind of prestige her father held among the other Allied leaders—what’s more, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want any of this life. He was making a terrible mistake, placing such responsibility in her young, inexperienced hands.

Dira’s thoughts turned to her mother. The queen was still gravely ill, lying at death’s door. What would she want for her daughter? And would she want the king to follow through with his plans for
Kharmlish—
the ancient practice of committing suicide, where king and queen journeyed together into the heavenly worlds? Knowing her mother as well as she did, she couldn’t imagine she’d want that to happen … she was far too practical.

She noticed her father looking at her, and smiled. “Why don’t you put those reports aside for a while. Rest, father.”

“No … there’ll be twice as many added to these tomorrow.” Wearily, he returned her smile. “There’s something else I wanted to speak with you about.” The king placed the stack of reports on the seat next to him. “Jhardon has suffered a terrible fate … its innocence is forever gone. Our planet is no longer the same world and it is time for the monarchy to end. It would be different if you wanted it to continue, but I know you do not. I have been studying the governments of other worlds, including Oricon, Aldermore, and Earth, with their more democratic institutions. Moving forward, I would like your help scripting a new constitution for our people. Will you help me, help Jhardon, with that?”

Dira was momentarily speechless.
How … what had changed?

“You are no more suited to govern a planet than I am to being a medical doctor. Come, daughter, sit next to me. We have much to discuss.”

Chapter 32

Jason sipped at his coffee and put it back down on the ready room conference table. The overhead lights were dimmed and he waited for his father to appear on the display. His mind kept returning to Ot-Mul. He was capable of terrible things. Atrocities. If things went sideways, he wondered how that would play out for the ones he truly cared about … his own family.

“Captain, am I disturbing you?”

“No … come on in, Ricket.”

“I’d like to speak with you about the battle droids.”

It took a few seconds for Jason to mentally change gears. “They are a problem. A problem we don’t have a ready answer for.”

“I may have something that will, at least partially, help.”

The display across the table came alive with a live feed of Admiral Reynolds, looking frazzled.

“Hold on, Ricket,” Jason said.

“What’s this I hear about your brother? You threw him off the bridge?” the admiral asked, his expression hard to read.

“I dealt with it,” Jason said.

“Indeed. Not your finest hour … and you killed the hopper?”

“Actually, Traveler did. But the damn thing was on the verge of attacking … attacking me!”

The admiral seemed to be weighing his words. “Truth is, the thing scared the shit out of me,” he said. “Why the creature had such a hard-on for your brother, I never figured out. But throwing your brother off the bridge in the middle of a battle was irresponsible. You owe him an apology.”

“I know. I’m not so sure he’ll want to speak to me any time soon.”

“Anyway … we have far more important things to discuss,” the admiral said.

“Ricket was just about to tell me something he’s come up with concerning the battle droids.”

“Any help you can provide, Ricket, would be greatly appreciated,” the admiral said.

“I was reviewing the
Minian
’s phase-synthesizer database. I’ve found the manufacturing specifications for the battle droids. I thought they’d been lost, but I was able to recover them.”

“So, we can make our own … fight fire with fire?”

“Yes and no, Admiral. The battle droids are highly technical, complicated Caldurian wonders. To build and manufacture a battle droid, turnout time will take us days, if not a full week. And that’s for one.”

“We’ll be lucky if we have hours before Ot-Mul attacks. He’s got his fleets strategically positioned in such a way that the Alliance will be forced to fend off incursions from multiple flanks. That’s what happens when you face an opponent who literally has twice the number of military assets at his disposal.”

“What I had in mind was something called a MagBot,” Ricket said.

“What is that?” Jason asked.

“It’s a battle droid of sorts … only it’s half the size and has one-tenth the complexity of the full-sized battle droids. It utilizes a cocktail of unique minerals, which are all synthesized within the manufacturing process. The little droids produce incredible magnetic properties. Enough to alter gravitational fields, and bend local spatial properties to the point they’re nearly untouchable. If we can produce enough of these MagBots, we’ll be able to keep Ot-Mul’s battle droids fairly busy.”

“Can they destroy them?” the admiral asked.

“I doubt it. Maybe. But they’d definitely slow them down, while inflicting their own unique hardship on Ot-Mul’s warships. They may be our best short-term solution.”

“How soon can we have them?”

“I have a batch cooking now. I should have thirty of them ready in an hour.”

“That’s excellent, Ricket. Keep me abreast of your progress. But now I need to speak to the captain.”

Ricket nodded at the admiral and Jason and left the ready room.

“That’s somewhat encouraging,” Jason said.

The admiral didn’t answer. He looked as if he were trying to figure out how to say something difficult.

“Just spit it out, Dad. What is it?”

His father looked pained. His eyes had softened and he was clearly wrestling with something. “Jason, there’s really no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it.”

Jason had no idea what was coming, but with the day he’d already been having, he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Dira’s …”

Surprised, Jason cut him off, “She’s dead, isn’t she? Ot-Mul kept his promise … going after the ones who matter most to me.”

“I honestly don’t know, Jason. She was with her father, on the king’s private schooner. They had time to get off a distress call. Apparently, a small convoy of Craing light cruisers intercepted their ship. Their schooner was no more than ten minutes out from Jhardon’s orbit when they were attacked.”

“What happened to the schooner? Were there bodies … any survivors?”

“The schooner was still in one piece. Drives had been taken out. There was a breach. Thirty-seven dead … no survivors.” The admiral lifted a palm to hold off the next question. “No, Dira and the king were not on board. They were not among the dead.”

Jason’s mind reeled. Ot-Mul would keep her alive—killing her would rob him of the full impact he wanted to impart. He would wait and kill her in front of Jason … that he knew, and that was Jason’s only glimmer of hope: he could possibly save her.

“Son … I’m sorry. I love Dira like a daughter. I was the one who first brought her on board
The Lilly
. But I need to know you’re going to stay on post … fighting the Drac-Vin is your primary objective. Too many lives are at stake … hell, everything is at stake and none of us can lose sight of that.”

Jason inwardly conceded his father was right. As hard as it would be, he needed to keep his head in the game. Saving Dira meant everything to him, but not at the risk of them losing the war. Something else occurred to him. “Dad, he’s going to do everything in his power to grab the kids … hell, he’d go after Nan if she were in this sector.”

Jason didn’t like the way his father’s facial expression suddenly altered. He looked as white as a ghost.

“What the hell is happening? Dad?”

“She insisted. She’s the goddamn president of the United States! You know her better than anyone; you’ve tried telling her no.”

“Insisted on what? You’re not making any damn sense.”

“Right before I contacted you … I … I obliged … I … opened an interchange wormhole for a small convoy. Nan’s come for the kids, Jason … she wants them away from the action. That, and get one-on-one updates on the impending battle situation. Understand, she was never going to be anywhere close to the front line … in and out fast. She’s easily a light-year away—”

“Damn it! When’s the last time you spoke to her? To her convoy?”

The admiral didn’t answer for several beats. “I sent Mollie and Boomer to her convoy via a shuttle. I needed to be back here. I haven’t heard that anything’s gone astray. I’m sure everyone’s fine.”

Jason wasn’t going to underestimate Ot-Mul. He was a sick fuck and revenge meant everything to him. Jason used his NanoCom to hail Orion.

“Gunny, I need you to check on the disposition of a small convoy from Earth. They recently arrived through an interchange wormhole requested by the
Minian
. Also, there’s a shuttle …”

Jason glanced over to his father.

“The
Perilous
,” the admiral said.

“The shuttle should have intersected the president’s convoy by now.” The admiral looked worried.

“Give me a few seconds, Cap. Things are heating up on multiple fronts. Looks like the Drac-Vin forces are about to make their move.”

“It’s the kids, Gunny. And Nan. If Ot-Mul detected their whereabouts, he’s coming for them. He’s already got Dira.”

“Oh my God, Captain … I see them. There’s fifteen cruisers and one destroyer closing in on the convoy.”

Chapter 33

Boomer sat in between Mollie and Petty Officer Priscilla Miller. Across the aisle from them was Secretary of Defense Ben Walker. Boomer liked the old, somewhat gruff, government man. He was funny and didn’t treat her like a nine-, almost ten-year-old.

She was excited she’d soon see her mother again, but didn’t like the idea of leaving her dad up here in space. She felt it was her responsibility to watch over him. Sure, she was just a young kid, but she was resourceful—something her father once remarked was a most important factor when placed in a dangerous situation. She was more resourceful than anyone knew. She’d continued her close combat training. There was never a shortage of SEALs or other highly trained military people around on the
Minian
and
The Lilly
. Sometimes she’d had to tell a fib, here and there, to get them to work with her—saying the request came from her father, or her grandfather.

Boomer always knew she would make outer space her home. She loved the uncertainty space traveling provided, the mysteries of alien worlds, and the simple fact that space life was always a bit unsafe. But now more than usual she felt a little too vulnerable. Why had she agreed to leave Teardrop and Dewdrop behind? The two droids were rarely not at her and Mollie’s sides. But they’d both begun to have issues—technical problems. Ricket said it was a software thing … they’d be fine after he had a chance to work on them. So there they remained up on
The Lilly
’s Deck 4B in Ricket’s little workshop.

Boomer looked over to her sister. How could they possibly share the same DNA? Mollie couldn’t be more different. Sure, they were best friends, and constantly getting into trouble together—which was fun. But in the end, Mollie was much more like their mom. She even wore her hair in the same style—had similar mannerisms. Boomer took after her dad and wanted to grow up to captain her own ship someday—hopefully,
The Lilly
. She loved
The Lilly
… the ship was her home for close to two years and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She knew her dad felt the same way, although he’d probably never admit it.

“Get your stuff together, girls. We’re almost there,” Priscilla said.

Boomer looked out the side observation window toward a distant cluster of white, bug-like, vessels. That would be her mother’s small armada of converted Craing warships. Excitement at seeing her mother again made her smile.

“I can’t wait to see Mom again,” Mollie said, grabbing up her backpack between her feet.

“How long will we stay on Earth?” Boomer asked, directing her question to Ben Walker.

“That’s not up to me, Boomer. At the very least, till things settle down up here and Ot-Mul and his forces are firmly dealt with.”

Boomer was well aware of the Allied worlds’ desperate situation with the Drac-Vin. The latter were probably going to win … that was the feeling most grown-ups held. She’d picked up on private, soft-spoken conversations and overheard meetings taking place in the adjoining ready room on the
Minian
. She felt she should be allowed to stay in space, be with her father and grandfather. Heck, Earth was no picnic ground either, with all those gross, zombie
peovils
running about everywhere.

“I’m staying with Mom. That’s all I know,” Mollie said to Secretary Walker and then directed her familiar,
know-it-all
smirk back at Boomer.

“Good!” Boomer replied.

Light poured in from the side observation windows as the
Perilous
entered the cruiser’s voluminous flight deck area. The shuttle settled softly onto the deck and immediately the rear hatch opened. The four passengers stood then—as did the three SEALs, their armed protection detail, seated at the back of the
Perilous
. They headed for the extended gangway.

Boomer was in the middle of the pack and tried to see around the adults.
Something’s not right.
She wasn’t exactly sure what—it was more a feeling than anything she could put her finger on. There was a lot of commotion below, on the deck, but from her limited perspective, all she saw were Craing. That by itself was not unusual. With all the merging of Craing and U.S. forces over the last few months, she’d seen many of the little aliens. But not exclusively Craing, like now … where were the humans? Where were the military personnel her mother had waiting for them?
Where’s my mother?