Jason looked inside his helmet and nodded. “Handy feature. Looks like you have a few more who need their helmets tidied up.” He put his helmet back on and assessed the moving groups of life-icons on the deck three levels below their own.

  “I’m counting at least fifty Craing down there,” Jason said. Adjusting to a wider perimeter setting, he saw too many life-icons to count moving in from other areas of the platform. “Our presence has been discovered,” Jason informed the team. “Dira, I want you to stay here and help Ricket and Gaddy. Whatever they need; it’s imperative we get this ship operational.”

  He noticed she was less than thrilled about staying behind, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Billy, we need to clear Deck 4—give Ricket more time to work. We’ll pair up and utilize our biggest advantage: our ability to phase-shift.”

  Jason brought his attention back to his teammates. He noticed the SEALs and Delta Force guys remained separated, each keeping to his own group. He caught Billy’s eye and opened a channel: “Is this going to be a problem?”

  “I figured it best to let them work it out on their own. Some things you just can’t force.”

  Jason pointed to someone on the Delta Force team: “What’s your name, Sergeant?”

  “Jackson. Toby Jackson.” He was black, muscular, and over six and a half feet tall. He grinned, revealing a gold front tooth.

  “You’re with me. Hold on.”

  Jason hailed Orion.

  “Go for Gunny.”

  “How’s your progress?”

  “Better than expected. Betty’s been able to increase speed through the straight-aways. ETA’s still thirty minutes out.”

  “That’ll have to do. I want you to query The Lilly’s AI for ‘Ion station.’ The Minian’s phase-synthesizer has been removed. There’s a good chance it’s here, on the space platform above Terplin. Platform’s as big as a city. Try querying space traffic and planet networks. I’ll need any specs you can dig up that will shed some light on where they’d most likely keep the thing.”

  “I’m on it, Cap.”

  “Captain, Gaddy’s overdue and there’s no way to hail her. My nano-devices are picking up a bio-signature from her. Most likely she’s in the area around Medical. Would you mind checking on her?” Ricket said, looking concerned.

  “No problem, you’re sure she didn’t leave this deck?”

  “Not possible. DeckPorts are offline.”

  “Okay, we’ll find her, I promise. In the meantime, utilize Dira’s help.”

  Another hail was coming in. “Go ahead, Gunny.”

  “Not much info available on the platform. I’ve uploaded two items to your HUD. The first is a schematic … more like a general layout … sorry it’s not very detailed. The second item is more interesting. It’s a bill of lading form intercepted from a Craing freighter several months back. Typically, equipment is brought into any one of a dozen port stations on the planet. But this form specifically designated the space platform as the port of delivery.”

  “So how does that help me?”

  “The equipment is primarily geared toward power generation. Like fusion generators. Perhaps the type of equipment one would need to power a ginormous phase-synthesizer? Now if you look back at the first diagram, you’ll see there’s really only one compartment on the platform that one, has the necessary space required, and two, has a number of sufficiently-rated power conduits.”

  Jason looked at the schematic and saw where Gunny had highlighted an area toward the center of the platform. “Good job, Gunny. Go ahead and send this on to the rest of the team.”

  “Aye, Cap.”

  Jason continued to look at the diagram. The platform really was a city unto itself. Easily ten miles in circumference, it had multiple landing pads as well as eight different hub ports—one presently in use by the Minian. The majority of the facility was environmentally sealed off from outer space, an enclosed habitat. Basically rectangular in shape, each corner had a revolving turret with a mounted plasma cannon. There were also barrack-like structures that could accommodate hundreds, if not a few thousands of security personnel.

  All the crew had paired up—Billy, paired with the remaining Delta Force soldier, had his virtual notepad out, and a 3D holo-display of Deck 4 hovered several feet in front of him. Within three minutes, Jason and Billy laid out cover positions and a basic plan of attack to clear the Craing insurgents from Deck 4. Something caught Jason’s attention from within the bridge. Now his attention wandered as he watched Dira helping Ricket jostle one of the open consoles closed, then she scurried off out of sight. That’s all it took—right then and there, Jason had come to a decision. It was time to tell this amazing violet-skinned woman from Jhardon how he felt—how he was so over-the-top—

  He caught himself mid-thought. Dira was standing at the entrance to the bridge, staring back at him as if reading his mind. He heard her lightly accented voice over his NanoCom: “Don’t you have some Craing to kill, or something?”

  Jason didn’t answer, somewhat embarrassed he’d been caught staring—especially in light of what was needed of him now. He shrugged and smiled.

  Billy finished talking and closed down his holo-display.

  “Let’s do this,” Jason said, and one by one, the paired teams phase-shifted to their designated positions, three decks below.

  Chapter 22

  Ot-Mul listened to the distant whirling sound coming off the ship’s two drive propulsion units—it relaxed him and helped him to think. He was finding it hard to comprehend what had just occurred.

  They were back within the protection of the Sector 6300 Craing fleet, and the fifteen hundred warships it comprised. He thought back to his last hour’s conversation with his Eminence. Even the acting emperor had referred to his six black dreadnaught warships as the death squad. A reference he’d heard before, but not by anyone he had actually spoken to face to face. He couldn’t deny the name was aptly appropriate; the total grand number of lives lost to his Vanguard fleet was quickly approaching five hundred billion. If there had ever been a more successful arbiter of death than he and his death squad, he was not aware of them. But what Lom was proposing, not only to him but also thousands of fleet commanders, was beyond his own hardened sensibilities. He replayed the interstellar comms conversation in his mind one more time:

  The acting emperor was dressed in his typical green robes and tall headdress. “Emperor Lom, you grace us with your presence.” Ot-Mul bowed his head toward the display before him.

  “It is I who am honored, Commodore. What you have accomplished throughout multiple sectors is nothing short of spectacular.”

  Again, Ot-Mul bowed, showing proper humility and respect to the one who would shortly become the Craing Empire’s final supreme leader. Soon, he’d complete the transformation of eternity, supposedly a process that had been perfected, and would allow the Craing leader to live well beyond earlier mortal restraints of mere hundreds of years, in a less than perfect cybernetic body. Soon, he would return to his physical youth and rule, unencumbered, virtually until the end of time itself … at least that was the latest gossip among fleet personnel. Ot-Mul was not sure how he felt about such a contrivance. Although he’d never spoken of such things out loud, Ot-Mul had higher aspirations for himself—why should becoming the Craing Empire’s supreme emperor be out of reach for himself?

  “Commodore Ot-Mul, welcome back to Sector One. Let’s not waste any more time with pleasantries. By now, I’m assuming you’ve had time to review my directives. The Great Space will set Sector One apart from other sectors within the universe. It will set the example of Craing dominance and safeguard the Craing worlds for millennia to come.”

  Ot-Mul had indeed reviewed the top-secret directives. The Great Space was a profound and staggering undertaking. With the exception of the seven Craing worlds, there would be systematic removal of all other celestial bodies within the sector. Problematic neighboring star systems, such as the Allied worlds and numerous others becoming more and more rebellious, would simply cease to exist. The Great Space would be an exemplification, a monument, for all to witness across the universe: a no man’s land that guaranteed safety and isolation of the Craing Empire, once and for all. Only through wormhole travel would one have access to Craing space. Those civilizations across the universe which had the same capability were even now being systematically destroyed. Acting-Emperor Lom, beyond doubt, was procuring a universe for himself that best supported his transformation of eternity and his everlasting rule.

  “You have been chosen, Ot-Mul. Wear your new uniform with pride. Display your medals upon your chest. As the emperor’s Chief Military Commander now … all empire fleets report directly to you. With the exception of myself, and the High Priest Overlords, no one will hold greater influence or power within the universe. As we speak, Craing fleets have been recalled to Sector One. Your Vanguard fleet of six dreadnaughts will become the model for hundreds if not thousands just like it. Your efforts moving forward, Ot-Mul, are key to implementing my vision … the Great Space.”

  Ot-Mul returned to the here and now and let the distant whirling sounds bring balance back to his disrupted consciousness. He surveyed his bridge crew. They, too, were aware of what lay ahead as they unleashed a wrath of death and destruction that would guarantee, for each and every one of them, a very special place in Hell for all eternity. So be it.

  “Chief Commander, we approach the worlds of Mangus and Trumach,” Helm Master Phom said. “Shall we alter course around them?”

  Ot-Mul didn’t answer. He knew the acting emperor wanted to scale back small altercations … at least until the fleets converged at one of their two designated deployment zones—an area within the star system of Orion’s Belt, and another at the Craing worlds. Only then would they conduct a systematic, coordinated, outward attack. An attack he would command.

  “How much time would that cost us?”

  “No more than three hours, Chief Commander.”

  Ot-Mul let the makings of another rare smile pull at his lips. He had been appointed Chief Commander for all Craing Empire fleets. This was to be his first command, holding this most prestigious position. “No. Three hours is three hours too many, Helm Master. Signal the rest of the fleet. The Vanguard Death Squad will be making a short detour.”

  * * *

  Ot-Mul leaned back in his seat and was surprised at his own feelings of exhilaration after so many years, so many annihilated worlds … soon he would take his rightful place in history as the greatest Craing military leader of all time. A leader that understood power. He was the arbiter of death across the universe. Now, he would be the true unifying force across space. Eventually acting-Emperor Lom, too, would be brought to his knees. First, Ot-Mul would need to do something none of his recent predecessors had been able to accomplish. Something spectacular. He’d bring down the rebel Allied forces in one fell swoop. Again, Ot-Mul smiled to himself. No. He would not be taking his Vanguard death squad directly to the rally point on the Orion’s arm, as ordered. First he would slice the head from the snake … Destruction of Earth and Allied fleet command was imperative. By doing so, he alone would claim responsibility for bringing down the Alliance.

  “Sir, we’ve entered Trumach space.”

  It had been a long time since Ot-Mul had seen not one, but two planets possessing their kind of beauty. The closer of the two, with her emerald green continents, surrounded by bright, azure-blue seas, was marginally superior to the other one, a perfect landscape, yet completely void of technology. Two virgin worlds—unspoiled—and for all intents and purposes, neither was a threat to them. But the primitive beasts inhabiting these worlds were warriors of unmatched strength and courage. Reports of great rhino-beasts fighting alongside Allied combatants within this sector were becoming the origins for future great fables, or historic lore … No … best to quell that nonsense right now.

  “Helm Master, bring us into a high-orbit formation around Mangus.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  The bridge became quiet—perhaps more quiet than usual. Ot-Mul prided himself on being an approachable leader. Not overly dictatorial. He knew each of the Craing officers—their family dynamics, their personal aspirations. All of them, with their similar black tufts of hair and rutty complexions, had a brotherly connection. Maybe, though, they were more than that, Ot-Mul thought, for the atmosphere within their confined space had taken on a more rigid, in fact, a downright somber, mood. Due, perhaps, to their knowledge that neither of these worlds showed any semblance of posing some military offensive against them? Even Jhardon had had a fortified space station.

  Having a conscience could prove to be an enemy, all unto itself. With the inevitability of what lay ahead—the systematic destruction of millions of similar worlds such as these—there would be nil room for sentiment. No, best they get used to it, here and now.

  The tactical officer, Gi-Mul, a distant cousin to Ot-Mul, turned in his seat and said: “Sir, we’re in position, and all six Vanguard vessels are charging weapons. There is much water content here. Atmosphere has high refractive characteristics. As you know, we have not had particularly good success—”

  Ot-Mul interrupted the tactical officer. “We target the land formations first. We will make an example of the rhino-warrior beasts. We will pound their world over and over and over, until the seas boil and turn to steam. We will pound their world, until the land melts into red-hot rivers of lava. Fire at will, Tactical Officer Gi-Mul.”

  The sound of the plasma energy generators was akin to an engine revving up; a progressive, high-speed pitch; a whining sound that everyone on board the Vanguard vessel registered, through a tightening of shoulder muscles and a clenching of teeth. The eventual climatic expulsion of energy shuddered the vessel. The sound, although dampened by any number of technological devices, was still noisome enough to make everyone flinch.

  Ot-Mul was disappointed with the first wave of plasma fire. The first of the two worlds was not destroyed—not completely. With his eyes focused on the bridge display, he ordered the tactical officer to recharge the weapons. It took three additional, concentrated plasma strikes to dematerialize the world’s mass into cloudy, multi-colored dust.

  The sudden lack of sound within the command ship’s bridge was deafening. None had dared let out his breath.

  “See. Not so impossible. Helm Master, bring us into high-orbit around Trumach. Tactical Officer Gi-Mul, prepare to charge weapons.”

  * * *

  Many light-years away, within an arid, desert-like landscape known as HAB 17, three rhino-warriors abruptly stopped what they were doing. Few Words, First Reflection, and their leader, Traveler, were all paralyzed with a most horrific realization … their home world, Trumach, was no more.

  Chapter 23

  Jason and Sergeant Jackson phase-shifted onto Deck 4, directly into an equipment storage compartment, midway down the deck’s primary corridor. Similar to those on The Lilly, hatchways were virtual, and they could either materialize or dematerialize—an option that was AI controlled. Like the rest of the ship, the function was now offline and all hatchways were left wide open.

  Noises were coming from the forward area of the ship and Jason chanced a quick glance down the corridor. Eight security personnel wearing green battle suits were casually standing around; several were leaning their backs against a bulkhead. Definitely not on alert, they seemed unaware the Minian had been boarded by Jason and his team. Granger was at the center of their grouping—crouching down in front of a recessed command panel. He knew similar panels were located on every deck. Granger was probably attempting to access the AI; perhaps modify parameters that would allow them access to the DeckPorts. He’d already bypassed the many restrictions placed on the exterior hull access, so it was conceivable he’d be able to do the same here.

  Jason opened a channel to the assault team. “Go! Take the deck.”

  Jackson moved past Jason and took up a crouched, defensive position, with his multi-gun sighted on the still unaware eight Craing security forces idling down the corridor. Jason moved past him, keeping close to the opposite bulkhead. The two guards, whose backs leaned against the wall, noticed Jason and began to react—bringing up their pulse weapons. It was too little too late, and they were shot in the chest, both falling down onto the deck. Jackson fired six bursts and took out the rest of the Craing from his crouched position. That left a startled-looking Granger, the only survivor, to hold up his hands as he slowly stood up.

  In the distance, Jason heard more plasma fire, coming from ahead and from behind. One by one, combatant life-icons disappeared from his HUD. As Jason closed in on Granger, the tall Caldurian’s expression turned from one of concern to one of recognition and then to relief.

  “Captain Reynolds. I had a feeling you’d be showing up right about now.”

  “I should burn a hole in your skull … right about now.”

  “Do what you have to do, Captain.”

  Jason stood less than a foot from the Caldurian, his eyes holding steady on Granger’s.

  “We trusted you … I trusted you, Granger.”

  Jason looked for some sign of regret, or self-reproach, and for a fleeting moment thought he saw them on the Caldurian’s face.

  “Do you know the repercussions you caused by altering Earth’s time realms? How many lives were lost?”

  “Lives were never meant to be lost. If anything, it was a way to save lives. By interfering with those drones before they’d completed their task, it was you who, inadvertently perhaps, caused the loss of life. Yes, Earth would have been sent, technologically, into an earlier time era, but it was temporary. Easily reversible. With the capabilities of the Minian, I could have just as easily destroyed your planet. And isn’t your wife alive now, or is that not important to you?”