Scrapyard Ship 7: Call to Battle (2 page)

“Looks like it’s almost done, huh?”

“I think so. There’s not much more we can add now for security.”

“That mean we can stay in the house tonight?” she asked hopefully.

“I’ll think about it.” Jason and his daughters had been staying far below ground, at the base, within its newly constructed quarters there. The novelty of the ultra-modern facility had occupied the girls’ attention over the last few days, but their initial enthusiasm was quickly waning. He, too, would like to spend more time outside, free of the confined spaceship compartments and living in subterranean quarters. Life was not back to normal, not even close. There were still countless
peovils
, the name Mollie had come up with for the molt-weevil-people, those zombie-like creatures still roaming the earth. And the alien fleet of five thousand Craing warships was still relatively close by in space. Two months previously, Jason had little doubt they would attack Earth within days, but it later became apparent they were in no hurry to do so. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but his suspicions centered around the revolution taking place on the Craing worlds.

Jason’s attention turned upward. The sudden appearance of
The Lilly
, quickly descending from above, brought his focus back to the present. The ship’s black, matte, nanite-coated hull, her sweeping, streamlined curves still induced the same reaction it had the very first time he’d seen this advanced Caldurian ship, right here, below ground, at what had become her secret home base the past few years. The ship disappeared in a flash, phase-shifting below ground. And then Jason was reminded of something he didn’t want to think about. Something heart-wrenching. Dira … beautiful … amazing … Dira. She was gone! Oh, god … how many times over the last few weeks had he pushed the very thought of her leaving from his mind?

Boomer was now back in the pool and several more inner tubes were bobbing on the choppy surface. Teardrop was already patrolling the outer fence perimeter.

Two months had now passed since they’d returned from their mission to Terplin—the destruction of the Chrimguard compound and what had become the acting-emperor’s seat of power. Feeling victorious, Jason’s team had returned to the small transport vessel, the
Streamline
, and then flew her back to the Orange Corridor, where
The Lilly
was awaiting them in orbit around Allaria.

News from Earth was not nearly as fortuitous. Nan and Mollie had, somehow, miraculously survived. But the infestation of molt weevils around the globe had dramatically changed Earth’s milieu forever. Millions if not billions of people had been cocooned … placed in a kind of suspended animation. Nan and Mollie had made their way to the joint NORAD and USNORTHCOM Alternate Command Center, sited deep within Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado. There, they’d been told Washington, D.C. had been overrun. The government, even the first family and the president, had been taken. As the lone remaining cabinet member, the Secretary of Inter-Stellar Relations, Nan had become acting president of the United States.

Jason recalled seeing Nan’s face on the display screen within his ready-room quarters. She was barely recognizable, her pretty face pale and drawn. Her left cheek scratched—her eyes revealing the magnitude of her new situation—the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. He’d wanted to reach through space and hold her, tell her everything was going to be all right.

“No, Jason, I’m not going to be okay. Things will never be okay … never okay again,” Nan told him, pushing her long hair back behind her ears.

“What can I do? How can I help you right now?”

Nan took in a breath and slowly let it out. She attempted a smile and seemed to relax some. She looked to her right and then turned back, facing him. “Keep Mollie for a while longer?”

“Of course.”

“Where does that leave you? Are you still needed there, in Washington?” Jason asked.

She was nodding before he’d finished. “Are you serious? There’s barely a working government here, Jason. Until the president is fully functional … if that ever happens, I’m still calling our nation’s shots. And there are other concerns, too, other than the cocoons and the damn zombies roaming the streets … there’s possible agression heading from outside the U.S.”

“What does that mean?”

“Think about it … The U.S. and Europe were hit hardest by the molt weevils. But some countries, namely parts of Russia and North Korea, are relatively free of the infestation. Both countries were already vying for more international power. Now, with the world’s super powers in disarray, it’s a perfect opportunity for them to strike. Your father is already en route back to Earth to meet with me and help us derive a workable plan for our own national security. But with the Craing fleet still a threat, he’s hesitant to return our warships home from space. You asked what you can do to help … we may need
The Lilly
to make an impromptu visit to the Far East, to remind the North Koreans that we are anything but an easy prey for aggression on their part. I know you needed a break … but we need you—”

“No, it’s time I returned to reality. When do you need me there?”

“Plan on returning to Washington tomorrow,” she replied, looking somewhat more hopeful. “It will be good to see you again … we need to talk.”

Jason saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone had just entered his ready room.

“I look forward to it,” he said, ready to sign off.

Nan continued to stare at Jason for several beats. “I’m starting to show now. I think I felt it kick last night.” Nan looked down at herself and then up, with the beginnings of a smile. “Can you believe it? We’re going to have another kid …” Nan’s smile disappeared when she saw the figure standing behind Jason.

Jason turned to see Dira standing at the entrance to the ready room. She was staring at the display, her expression a mixture of confusion, then shock. Her eyes shifted to Jason. Tears welled up in her eyes and overflowed. Without saying a word, she spun and fled from the ready room. Jason turned back to the display.

“She didn’t know? You hadn’t told her?”

Jason felt his cheeks flush hot. He hadn’t told Dira yet—there hadn’t been the right moment. How do you tell the person you’re in love with that you’re having a baby with your ex-wife? How does one even approach such a subject?

“No. Was going to tonight,” he said, finding it hard to talk.

“I’m sorry. I really am, Jason. Things are complicated … I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The connection was cut before he’d had the chance to respond.

Now, standing on the back deck of his San Bernardino house that overlooked his family’s scrapyard and the hazy-blue San Bernardino Mountains beyond, he felt the familiar tug on his heartstrings. He’d tried numerous times to get Dira to just talk to him—let him explain the situation. But she hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. She hadn’t spoken to him since. She’d immediately contacted the admiral, his father, and arranged for transport back to Jhardon. She needed to be with her family, she’d told him, whose world, and hers, was still reeling from the recent attacks by the Craing Vanguard fleet. At least half of Jhardon had been destroyed. Her mother, the queen, was ill and it was time for Dira to assume the role she’d been avoiding for too long. She was a princess, heir to the throne, and it was time she returned home and assumed her rightful duties there.

Chapter 2

The next morning, Jason was up early. He and his daughters had enjoyed several weeks home, at the scrapyard, hanging out in the customized house Nan had builders create for them; languishing around the pool, they were basically free to do nothing much at all. With only a few minor emergencies to attend to, he was able to decompress to some extent, and, more importantly, reconnect with Mollie and Boomer. The truth was, it wasn’t his idea to take this leave of absence. His father had insisted. The toll on his son of a year battling the Craing made it look like he was on his way to total burnout. Added to the fact he was still mourning the departure of Dira, Jason hadn’t put up much of a fight. He’d spent the last several hours getting the house pre-locked-up, tightly secured, for another indeterminate span of time when he’d be away, returning once again to outer space.

He decided to take one more patrol around the property before leaving. When he stepped out onto the deck, he saw Boomer was already there, dressed and waiting for him.

“Where’s your sister?”

“She’s not my sister.”

“Where’s Mollie?” Jason asked, correcting himself.

“Sleeping still.” She looked up at her father and scowled. “How is it she and I share the same DNA? We’re not even a little bit similar.”

Jason chuckled as he headed down the steps leading into the scrapyard. He opened the metal gate and let Boomer walk through first; then he followed, latching the gate behind him. This wasn’t the first time he’d had the same conversation with either one, or both, girls. Several months earlier, after combating a Craing-induced, multiple-time realms situation here on Earth, there had been several significant time alterations, subsequently, in their own time-frame reality. One of its byproducts was the merging of two, parallel, time frames, which resulted in two identical Mollies, and two identical Teardrops, co-existing at the same time. As Jason watched Boomer walk ahead in front of him, he had to agree with her earlier statement. The two girls couldn’t be more different. Mollie, equally bright and rambunctious, was a normal nine-year-old in most every respect, while Boomer, who had been fine with changing her name, on the other hand, was a little warrior. She’d already been trained in close-quarters combat—had learned to kill an opponent—was an expert at knife throwing. Yes … her interests seemed to be well suited for space, and life aboard a warship.

Mollie, though, seemed better suited to live on Earth, with her mother. Smart and tenacious, she had a personality that worked its way into anyone’s heart—not unlike her mother. Jason was happy to have them both with him. They may not consider themselves true sisters, but they were. In some ways, their bond was even stronger than what most siblings had. They often finished each other’s sentences—seemed to know what the other one was thinking.

Boomer had picked up a long piece of metal and was using it as a walking stick.

“Be careful with that, it’s sharp and full of rust.”

Boomer pointed the end of the long spike in the direction of the fence. “I see two
peovils
moving around out there, Dad.”

Jason stopped and looked where Boomer was pointing. “Ignore them. They can’t get in here. Even if they could, the drones would take care of them,” he added, gesturing to the two droids that were approaching them from opposite sides of the yard. Dewdrop came within several feet of Boomer and hovered there, close by. Teardrop rose into the air and drifted above the high fence, then, lowering back down, placed itself between the two peovils and the fence.

“They creep me out. I don’t like the way they slink around.”

Jason watched as the two figures kept coming. They looked like middle-aged men. One was tall and wore a scruffy beard, while the other one was chubby and mostly bald. Both were wearing ragged, stained pants and were shirtless. The taller of the two was drooling—long strings of saliva dripped down from the corners of his gaping mouth.

“Stop your progress!” Teardrop commanded.

The two kept coming, moving in the direction of Jason and Boomer. Teardrop deployed its primary weapon from its torso. “Stop now, or be destroyed.”

“Come on, let’s keep moving,” Jason said, turning Boomer away from what was about to happen. Several times in the night he’d heard the droids fire their plasma weapons. He wasn’t sure what they’d done with the bodies afterwards—he’d have to ask them later.

Jason heard one pulse engaging and then a loud clang, startling him, and he instinctively pulled Boomer in close. The chubby peovil lay motionless on the ground. He looked up and saw that the taller peovil had jumped and was now high up, close to the top of the fence. Its arms and legs flailed to get purchase on the greasy metal—but, immediately, it began to slip back down. Dewdrop fired twice and the zombie creature’s body was catapulted out onto the desert sagebrush. The two droids retrieved the dead bodies and then transported them further out into the desert. A moment later Jason heard more, extended, plasma fire.
Well ... that answers my
question: The droids are cremating the remains
.

“Didn’t Mom get bit by one of those things?” Boomer asked.

“Yep … on the neck.”

“Is she going to turn into a peovil?” Boomer questioned, looking concerned.

“Your mom, and the rest of us, are immune. The nanites in our bloodstream protect us.”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.” Boomer smiled and looked relieved. “Is there no way to … I don’t know, help them? Cure them?”

“Not sure. Scientists are working steadily on that but so far haven’t had any luck. Ricket, and the technology on the
Minian
, or even on
The Lilly
, may provide an answer. As soon as Ricket returns from his mission, he’ll look into it.” They continued their trek around the outside of the scrapyard, just inside the fence’s perimeter. More peovils were approaching in the distance. These were former men and women. All were naked.

“Let’s head back to the house, Boomer.” He steered her away from the fence and pointed toward a concrete pathway that intersected several other paths—the one leading back toward the house.

* * *

Mollie was up and busy in the kitchen when they reentered through the sliding glass door at the back of the house.

“Something smells good!” Boomer said, quickly taking a seat on a barstool under the expansive granite countertop.

Jason took a seat next to her and watched Mollie at work. She had an apron wrapped around her waist. A dusting of flour covered the tip of her nose, and she was using just about every pot and pan in the kitchen. He really wanted them to get going, clear out of the house right away, but with a smile, instead, he watched his daughter as she flipped the flapjacks on the grill. Each was perfectly golden brown. “How does a nine-year-old learn to cook so well?” he asked her.