Star Watch (27 page)

Dira’s words caught him before he left Medical: “And exactly when did you start keeping track of the elapsed time?”

His temper flaring, Jason spun around, ready to unleash his anger. But Dira wasn’t even looking at him. She stood at the console, an almost placid expression on her face as she worked the controls. “Your father was administered to within that crucial five-minute period, or do you not remember I was there … attending to him? We got to him in time.” She slapped the side of the display screen so it swung around, now facing him. Irritated by her attitude at such a difficult time, what he saw on the screen didn’t register at first. “What?”

“Look at the damn display!”

Jason wondered how he could have missed it. Not only was
it
moving, steadily beating, the virtual representation of his father’s heart was bright red. He looked at Dira in wonder. “He’s alive?”

“He’s alive.”

* * *

Boomer felt sick. Realization finally set in. Really set in. This wasn’t going to work. She was only ten years old and she’d been fooling herself into believing she’d be able to accomplish what they all expected of her. What was she supposed to do now? Pretend? Simply act as if she were on board with their stupid idea of her going up against this Lord Shakrim guy? He was going to kill her … rip her into little pieces, all the while laughing at her pathetic attempt to fight him. Oh sure … Aahil had made it clear:
No one expects you to actually fight him … you only have to paralyze him with your enhancement shield until he can be taken prisoner.
Really? That’s all? Okay then
…
fine
…
no problem!

She watched as Aahil and Capri spoke in lowered tones in the near distance. She knew they were talking about her … how utterly crappy a job she’d done in her exercises. She’d yet to defeat anyone. She either ended up flat on her back, or on her bottom, every time. And she was sore. Her whole body was sore. She considered moving off the tree stump’s rough seat to the softer, pine-needle-covered ground below. She shifted her bottom, moving from one cheek to the next, but found no comfort on either.

Aahil and Capri approached. They didn’t look happy with her. Boomer chewed at the inside of her lip and waited for them to come a bit closer. She’d come to a decision; she was going to let them know she was the wrong person for the job … they needed to find someone else.

Aahil spoke before she could say anything. “Are you ready to continue?”

“No.”

Aahil and Capri exchanged a quick look. “Even before trying out that new shield?”

“It’s just a shield … I’m just a kid … and I want to go home. You can’t make me stay here.”

Aahil slowly nodded—seeming to be carefully considering her words. A hopeful sign. “I have to tell you something … um, something I’ve kept from you.”

“What?”

“Your training shield … the one you’ve been practicing with up until now …”

“Yeah?”

“It was set only to one-third power configuration. You were training at a substantial disadvantage from the start.”

“It didn’t seem like it,” she said, not sure she was buying any of his confession.

“You compensated for the deficiencies of the shield, Boomer. As hoped, you possess certain innate capabilities.”

“I don’t know what innate means.”

“It means natural … powers you already have but probably don’t know you have,” Capri clarified.

Boomer shrugged. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about. I’ve decided to go home. I want to go home.”

Aahil looked bemused. His eyes moved toward Boomer’s feet and the enhancement shield he’d earlier given her. “Leaving a shield such as this one lying around on the ground is disrespectful to me, as well as to the shield itself.”

Boomer flushed. She’d meant to put the thing back in its fancy box. To give it back to Aahil … she didn’t want it anymore. “Sorry … you can keep it.”

He now held the shield in his hands, flipping it over with his fingers. He stopped and leaned down—the shield only inches from her face. He traced the ridge on the small inside flange, running around the inside perimeter of the weapon. “See here? This section with these tiny raised projections?”

Boomer leaned in closer and furrowed her brow. “I see them … like little bumps.”

“Run your fingertip along those bumps.”

She raised her brow.
This is getting stupid
.
She did as told, taking ahold of the edge of the shield in her left hand, then doing what Aahil requested. She moved her forefinger back and forth along the little bumps.

“Oh my God!” Boomer stood, holding on to the shield. She continued to make power adjustments—feeling the difference. It was night and day. It was amazing. She looked up at Aahil, then to Capri. “You had me training with a … a toy!”

“You needed to gain strength from your own innate powers … it would have been a mistake to have you rely solely on a shield so early on.”

Boomer fitted the enhancement shield over her hand and onto her forearm. She set it to its maximum strength.

“You may want to set that down a position or two, Boomer,” Aahil said.

“I want to see what I can do with this thing.” She took up the
Kahill Callan
battle stance,
and, bowing her head, smiled. Again, Aahil and Capri exchanged glances. Aahil shrugged and attacked without warning.

Chapter 38

Dacci System

The
Charm
, Zoo Habitat 331

_________________

Things were already tense within the tight confines of the little vessel. Leon wanted to smack the condescending smile off Stalls’ face. It was as if the pirate had anticipated their arrival. Was expecting them. His hands had been bound without the slightest resistance. The guy was a psycho, no doubt about it. He was going to try to screw them all—the very first opportunity—it was only a matter of when.

Stalls sat next to Bristol, three seats up from Leon, within the
Charm
’s narrow cabin. He saw Hanna, seated to his left, one row ahead. Her eyes were on Stalls as well. Her expression said it all: she wanted to kill the bastard.
What in hell had he done to her?
Whatever she planned to do back, Leon wasn’t going to get in her way … hell, he’d even supply the weapon—one of those big multi-guns should do the trick.

Leon saw that they’d reached the habitat’s portal, leading back into the
Minian
. Again, he looked toward Stalls.
This is really a bad idea.

* * *

Five hours later, after an earlier long hot shower, Leon was rousted from a far-too-brief catnap. Sleepy-eyed and disoriented, he told the AI to send whoever it was away. Apparently she didn’t take orders from guest passengers, because the energy hatch to his small quarters vanished as a sole military man strode in.

“Rizzo … what are you doing here? Don’t you ever sleep, man?”

“We’ll sleep when we’re dead … time to go.”

Leon sat up and ran his fingers through his tousled hair as Rizzo stood silently in front of him. He looked like a younger version of the captain … kinda acted like him, too. “Okay … I’m ready … where are we going?”

“To your ship.”

That put a smile on Leon’s face.
Finally
. “It’s a fair distance away … how we getting to it? Shuttle? Maybe that perky Lieutenant Commander Grimes can pilot us.” Leon pulled on his left, then right, boot. He stood and gestured with a hand toward the still-open hatch: “Lead on,” he said, with an exaggerated smile.

Three long corridors and two DeckPorts later, they arrived at the flight deck. Considering the size of the ship, it was a massive space, spanning the
Minian
’s width, with gargantuan-sized arched bay doors on both port and starboard sides.

“You could park an ocean liner in here … hell, several of them, end to end,” Leon remarked, taking in various individual spacecraft—hundreds of unmanned mini-fighter drones, their wings collapsed, secured in tight rows onto a bulkhead, reaching high above, and spanning multiple decks—also a complement of royal blue fighters, including several red ones. There were also a handful of shuttles—the
Perilous
was one, the smaller
Charm
another, secured off to the side. Maintenance drones, some robot-like, others cylindrical, hovered about or were speeding off somewhere—busy at work—doing whatever drones do to keep a fleet this size operational.

Leon, seeing Rizzo had kept on walking while he ogled, scurried to catch up. The starboard bay doors were open to space, an energy field keeping the flight deck’s atmosphere contained within. Abruptly, Leon stopped in his tracks. There, situated in the middle of the flight deck, was his ship—the
SpaceRunner.

“I don’t understand … how is my ship here?” Leon asked, not sure if he should be happy to see it, or angry someone had piloted it here without his permission.

“Didn’t you tell someone where it was hidden? How to override the ship’s security measures?”

“Yes, but …”

“You can’t provide that kind of information to Ricket, or even to Bristol, without them figuring out the rest. Apparently, they used a shuttle, one capable of phase-shifting, to fetch it … it was right where you said it would be. I thought you’d be happy to see it.”

“I am … I guess. I just don’t like anyone else flying her.”

“Uh huh. Well, when you can get over feeling violated maybe you can make sure it’s ready for our mission. There’s a lot hinging on this ship of yours being everything you say it is … fast and battle ready.” Rizzo turned back toward the
SpaceRunner
. “It’s not what I expected—”

“What? You expected a tin can held together with bailing wire and duct tape?”

Rizzo shrugged.

Leon, not expecting an answer, walked around his ship, making sure there wasn’t new damage. In truth, it was the most beautiful vessel he’d ever seen. He remembered seeing it for the first time, when his then soon-to-be partner, Petty Officer Sean Doogin, brought him to its hiding place on Palis-Z, a wretched little planet where one could purchase virtually anything—if willing to pay the local space gypsies their exorbitant, over-inflated prices. The
SpaceRunner
had originally been a wealthy intergalactic trader’s personal star yacht. On the outside, it looked little different than it had back then; much of the hull was highly reflective, mirror-like, while other areas—design features, with textured, dark-gray panels—were, in reality, not design features at all. Depending on where one looked, either a rail cannon or a plasma gun lay hidden behind various slide-away panels—no less than eight in all. The ship looked surprisingly sleek and aerodynamic, considering its width. At one time, this rich trader’s space yacht had fifteen stateroom suites, plus a large storage hold running the length of the vessel below the ship’s deck. With the exception of spacious staterooms, the inside of the vessel bore little resemblance now to its former, luxurious, glory days. Excluding seven small quarters, and several heads, most of the
SpaceRunner
had been reconfigured, befitting the requirements of a trading vessel needing, oft times, to get away fast and/or defend itself. Leon reached up high and ran his palm along a portion of the hull. He liked the mirror-like finish. One of the most unique aspects of this ship was its capability to alter its outward appearance. Apparently the original owner’s wife wanted a ship that could match her daily attire … he wasn’t sure of the technology behind it, but all of the reflective hull siding could be altered to any number of colors or patterns—but there had also been another option, probably had been added by the husband. Leon called it ghetto-ship gray … when selected, the
SpaceRunner
looked thirty years older and battered—with simulated dents, scuffs and areas of mismatched paint repairs. For the kind of places Leon had typically been taking this ship, ghetto-ship gray was almost always the most appropriate.

They came to a standstill at the bow of the vessel. Rizzo noted, “It’s a nice-looking ship … how does it do in planetary atmosphere?”

“Cuts through the air like a knife.”

“Well, it’ll be a lot faster now.”

“Faster now? I don’t think so,” Leon said, not really sure what he was referring to.

Rizzo walked beneath the ship’s portside toward the lowered gangway, approximately at the center point of the vessel. “Mind?” he asked, pointing upward.

“Go ahead … seems everyone else has been on board anyway.”

Leon followed Rizzo up the
SpaceRunner
’s gangway into what seemed like a comfortable vestibule, of sorts, but was, in fact, an airlock. The circular compartment had two opposing curved hatchways, one leading to sub-level hold areas, and the other back to Propulsion, where the vessel’s powerful antimatter drive was located. Before them, a curved ramp gracefully followed the curved contours of the bulkhead, and led to another curved hatchway, fifteen feet overhead, that was the egress into the main deck area above, on level one.

The hatch leading into Propulsion was open and Leon could hear someone inside muttering something. In three strides, he crossed over the airlock compartment and rushed into the hatchway, where he found Bristol, standing on his tiptoes, using a tool of some kind.

“What the hell are you doing to my ship?” Leon crossed the confined space, grabbed a fistful of Bristol’s jumpsuit, and threw him against a vertical support beam.

“He’s doing what he’s been told to do,” Rizzo said behind him, “and you should be thanking him, not smacking him around.”

“Thanking him for what? Nobody messes with my ship without my permission.”

Bristol shoved back at Leon, causing him to take a short step back. “Hey, fuckwad … you don’t want phase-shift capability on this ship … fine with me. I’ll yank it back out.” Bristol headed back where he’d been … doing
something
.

“You’re installing phase-shift capability? No shit? How much is that going to cost me?”

Rizzo said, “Do your job right and we’ll call it even … how ’bout that?”

Leon nodded and looked at Bristol. “Sorry … didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t you have something else to do? I’d like to finish this and get some sleep.”