“I am Captain … I am Sto-Pip”

  Jason was glad Billy didn’t make a snide comment about his name. “It’s time you defended your vessel. Other dreadnaughts out there are firing on you.”

  “I cannot …”

  Jason shot the captain with a high-level stun pulse. “Ricket … go to work. Let me know if you need help from these other officers.”

  As many as forty Craing crewmembers nervously stared up at Jason and the assault team; he expected to see hatred in their eyes but saw none of that. Why? Jason wondered.

  Ricket quickly found an open console and within seconds looked up at Jason. “As of now, this vessel is fully engaging the surrounding Craing warships. Nuclear and fusion-tipped warheads, as well as plasma cannons, are targeting the nearby ships.” He turned his attention back to the console. “I believe if I section off the damaged area, where the Minian is located, I may be able to reinitialize the shields—or at least some of them.”

  He had a random discouraging thought. Were there prisoners here, being held on board? He’d certainly observed countless jail-like cages lining the main corridor, but he hadn’t noticed if they were occupied.

  “Ricket, is there a way for you to check if the prisoner cages are occupied?” Jason asked.

  Ricket looked confused by the question. “Why would you—” He cut himself short and moved from one console to another three posts away. He gestured for the Craing crewmember to vacate his seat. Ricket, fingers flying across the input device, suddenly stopped and looked up at Jason, and then to Traveler. “Captain, there are eight hundred prisoners on board this vessel. One hundred and thirty of them are rhino-warriors.”

  That statement got Traveler's full attention. His deep voice boomed across the bridge. “We will rescue the rhino-warriors.”

  Jason looked blankly at Traveler for several beats, not sure what to say. There was absolutely no time for a rescue operation. Hell, they'd be lucky to get out alive as it was … Why on earth had he mentioned the prisoner cages? He hailed the Minian.

  “Go for XO.”

  “Status?”

  “Better now, Captain. The dreadnaught you're on is emitting an excellent amount of firepower. Enemy ships in the area have backed off … at least, somewhat. There's still a lot of incoming fire, but it's manageable. Looks like Ricket has the shields up as well-that should help.”

  Jason figured Ricket had gotten the shields up in the last few seconds. “And the flight deck crew?”

  “Brian's crew is still trying to extricate the ship. Cutting through the crossbeam has been problematic. They'll need more time before we'll be able to phase-shift.”

  “Understand, XO. Let me know when anything changes.”

  Chapter 36

  Chief Commander Ot-Mul was fast asleep in his quarters when he was awakened by his second-in-command. He didn’t want his sleep disturbed and had made that quite clear. Unless there was a dire emergency, he was not to be bothered by trivial or inconsequential news. He quickly discovered the disturbance this time was anything but inconsequential.

  By the time he made it onto the bridge he only knew the bare basics of what had happened; the Craing worlds had been attacked and the status of acting-Emperor Lom was yet unknown.

  Ot-Mul took his seat on the raised officer’s platform and faced the other four officers. “Tell me what happened.”

  Ot-Mul’s second-in-command, Ry-Jon, looked distraught, almost as if he’d been crying. Ot-Mul disliked Ry-Jon and had already put in the necessary work order to have him transferred off his vessel. But now, having to endure his emotional dolefulness was quickly getting old and under his skin.

  “Chief Commander, it is with great distress I inform you that acting-Emperor Lom …”

  Ry-Jon stopped mid-sentence to look down at the floor and steady himself. Ot-Mul watched the whimpering fool with astonishment, having to restrain himself from backhanding him across the face. “What? Acting-Emperor Lom is what?” Ot-Mul demanded. Here, his destiny lying in the balance, and this doddering idiot couldn’t manage one simple sentence.

  “Acting-Emperor Lom is gravely injured. I am so sorry to tell you this news, Chief Commander.”

  “You told me the palace was destroyed. How does Lom still live?”

  Ry-Jon looked at his commander with an appalled expression. It was no secret Ot-Mul had high ambitions, wanting to advance to emperorship himself one day, but his disrespectful usage of the acting emperor’s name …

  “Tell me, you cowering windbag, or you’ll be sharing a cage with an Algarian flesh-eater!”

  Ry-Jon stammered on: “The acting emperor, as well as the panel of high priest overlords, sought refuge in the royal bunker below ground. But the palace was hit with multiple high-yield nuclear weapons. I don’t have all the facts, only that the royal bunker was nearly crushed. The high priests, I’m sorry to report, have all been killed. Acting-Emperor Lom is alive, but barely. He is not expected to survive his injuries.”

  Ot-Mul sat back in his seat, doing his best not to look pleased with the news.

  “Sire, there is more. By the provisions set forth by the new acting overlords, you are the acting-ruling magnate … you are now, officially, acting emperor of the Craing worlds.”

  Ot-Mul stared back at the Craing officer in disbelief. How had such an amazing turn of events happened so quickly? So perfectly?

  The other four officers stood, waiting silently as the rest of the bridge crew followed. Sounds of a religious mantra began broadcasting into the bridge and, quite assuredly, throughout the ship. Then, simultaneously, Craing crewmembers knelt down onto the deck. Quietly, at first, the bridge crew soon droned in harmony with the aired mantra, which got louder as time went on. Ot-Mul watched and listened as they droned reverence to him, their new leader. He waited for the familiar sounds of the snapping of bones. The sounds echoed and stirred him to his very core. The crew suddenly turned in unison and faced in another direction—bowing several times in rapid succession. When the snapping sounds came again, as one the crew turned forty-five degrees and bowed again. Four times they completed the traditional ritual—bowing north, south, east, and west. When the repeating mantra finally ended, Ot-Mul continued to look upon his crew, making eye contact with each one. He bowed and gestured for them to rise and continue with their duties.

  Ot-Mul sat down, still somewhat in a euphoric haze. Someone was speaking to him. He turned his attention to Ry-Jon. “I’m sorry, please repeat that.”

  “What are your orders, my lord?”

  “Talk to me about the attack. What’s the disposition of our assets in Craing space? It certainly must have been a formidable adversary … a fleet of incomprehensible—”

  “Not at all, sire. This was not a brazen fleet of enemy warships, my lord. More a clandestine act of subterfuge. Very few details are known yet, but the latest information speaks of a cloaked Alliance vessel that made its way to the Ion Station. Once there, a small team invaded the station and absconded with a most important Caldurian piece of equipment. Another team, equally small, captured the Caldurian vessel, the Minian.”

  Ry-Jon paused to settle himself. He licked his lips several times and swallowed, then continued: “They somehow restored power to the Caldurian vessel. Not long afterward, the emperor’s security force was defeated. We believe that a guest of the emperor, a Caldurian named Granger, was actually an accomplice and assisted the enemy. It was he who gained them access to the Minian’s formidable, highly advanced, weaponry. When the missile attack came, Craing planetary defenses could do little while hundreds of missiles destroyed Craing military targets on all seven worlds. In the end, the Emperor’s Palace was also destroyed.”

  Ot-Mul listened intently. None of this seemed remotely possible. Either the emperor’s security force was unimaginably inept, or the attackers were truly cunning. He suspected it was the latter, or maybe a combination of both.

  “While attempting their escape aboard the Minian, they soon came face-to-face with far too many of our awakening dreadnaughts. As things stand now, we believe it is only a matter of time before we defeat these Allied bandits and retake the Minian. My lord … can I announce our hasty return to Craing space?”

  “No, Ry-Jon. You cannot. Our original destination remains the same: Earth.”

  Ot-Mul was suddenly struck by the precariousness of his new position. For far too long the Craing Empire had underestimated the resilient, and obviously ingenious, capabilities of the Alliance. Even now, with many of the Allied fleets decimated and their star systems facing imminent annihilation, they were still attacking with unbridled cunning. Ot-Mul was well aware where the root of their assault originated—primarily with the Earth-born fleet commander, Admiral Perry Reynolds. And now, a possibly more dangerous threat to them was Captain Jason Reynolds, his son. How one man’s exploits, within the span of one year’s time, could be allowed was incomprehensible. Craing fleets, thousands of the empire’s most powerful warships, had been repeatedly bested. What’s worse, the Craing populace, especially the youth, held some kind of admiration for Earth’s barbaric, backward, society. Like a festering, growing disease … it was time to put an end to the Alliance and that would commence with planet Earth. Ot-Mul contemplated on how he would make them suffer. One thing was certain: it wouldn’t be quick and it wouldn’t be painless.

  Ot-Mul turned to his junior officers. “In four days or less our joint fleets will have journeyed from distant space to assemble both there, in the Craing worlds, and also at the arm of Orion. Although he was struck down before it could be realized, acting-Emperor Lom’s dream, what we have come to know as the Great Space, will become a reality. The Vanguard fleet will now commence this historical, cleansing endeavor, and it will start with the Sol planetary system. It will start with Earth.”

  Chapter 37

  Jason answered an incoming hail from his brother. “Go for Captain.”

  “All done. It was hard, but we’ve got the Minian extracted from the Craing dreadnaught.”

  “Damage to the Minian?”

  “The starboard flight deck hatch needed to be welded shut. Port side’s fine.”

  “Excellent. Hey, you know how to fly a shuttle, right?”

  “Um, yeah, of course. Why?”

  “We’ll have a few additional passengers. Take the Perilous shuttle and it’s best if you leave the hopper behind on the Minian.”

  “I can do that,” Brian replied, sounding unsure about what was going on.

  “As soon as you’re situated on board, you’ll see I’ve forwarded you the phase-shift coordinates.”

  That left both the Epcot and Oracle shuttles still available. Jason hailed Lieutenant Grimes.

  “Go for Grimes,” she answered, sounding distracted.

  “Lieutenant, can you spare two pilots?”

  There was a brief hesitation before she replied. “We’ve lost three fighters, sir. Lieutenants Boyle, Rodrigues, and Masters were just dusted by the Craing.”

  Jason let that sink in … “I’m so sorry, Lieutenant Grimes … Nancy. Forget I asked; we’ll make do.”

  * * *

  Jason left Chief Petty Officer Woodrow keeping guard over the dreadnaught’s rounded-up bridge crew, with explicit orders that no one was to touch anything.

  He was surprised to see that two of Lieutenant Grimes’ fellow fighter pilots were now available. Although the onslaught from the surrounding Craing dreadnaughts was still total mayhem … relentless, and certainly not a battle that could be won, their incoming missiles were being taken out and, for the most part, the Minian’s bridge crew were holding the Craing at bay.

  Even with the four shuttles transporting hastily released rhino-warrior prisoners into a hold on board the Minian, it was taking too long. As with every dreadnaught Jason had come into contact with, here, too, Serapin Terplins roamed the catwalks—a most effective and proven security measure for the Craing.

  Jason, piloting the Magnum, was cruising back and forth along multiple decks of prisoner cages. The onboard database Ricket had turned up was inaccurate regarding which species occupied which cage. Turned out, it was better to personally check each one. Traveler helped make the process somewhat easier. With the rear of the shuttle open, he was leaning out, his arm extended, and calling out to Jason when he spotted a fellow rhino.

  “Stop here, Captain. Two more,” Traveler bellowed.

  Jason brought the shuttle to a standstill, moving the hull closer in to the catwalk. He turned and nodded to two already freed rhino-warriors, who stood in the shuttle’s hold. They looked somewhat confused, though happy to be gaining their freedom. Traveler climbed over a four-foot railing and approached two side-by-side cages. After some words were spoken, Jason saw the two captives move further back. Three solid strikes from his heavy hammer were all it took to break apart the latches on both cage doors.

  From the other side of the main corridor, Jason saw the Epcot loading three other rhino-warriors. In similar fashion, Few Words was hammering on a latch to break open a cage. He looked over at Jason with a startled expression.

  In the few seconds Jason’s attention was diverted, three equally large Serapins attacked. Jason quickly stood and headed for the shuttle’s rear opening, but by then Traveler and another rhino were desperately fighting for their lives.

  Traveler’s hammer caved in the skull of one of the now prone Serapins, but two others were upon him … one with its widespread jaws clenched tight around his right thigh while the other’s jaws were closed on his opposite upper arm. Wearing his hardened battle suit, Traveler looked to be fine—only concerned with freeing himself. Jason, who hadn’t had time to grab his multi-gun, shot from his dual, wrist-mounted, integrated weapons. The first plasma strikes did little but infuriate the beasts. Ratcheting up the power level to maximum, Jason fired again and bore two through-and-through holes into first one’s abdomen, and then the second’s.

  Clattering came from behind them. As Jason turned he saw another just-freed rhino-warrior being dragged by his leg down the catwalk in the opposite direction. As Jason raised his arm to fire, Traveler brushed by him with his heavy hammer held high. Seeing Traveler’s rapid approach, the Serapin released its quarry and quickly back-stepped down the catwalk. Now running, Traveler swung his outstretched arm in a complete circle, releasing his hammer at the perfect moment. The fleeing Serapin, having no time to react, took the brute force of the heavy metal object in the throat. Both clawed arms came up as the Serapin frantically struggled to breathe. But with the amount of damage inflicted on its windpipe, the beast staggered and fell to the catwalk, dying.

  After retrieving his heavy hammer, Traveler helped the bloodied, but seemingly okay rhino back to his feet. Jason escorted him into the back of the shuttle while Traveler went to work on the remaining cage door.

  Jason answered a frantic-sounding hail from Perkins.

  “Go for Capt—”

  “We can no longer hold them off, Captain. We’ve lost two more fighters and eleven drones. The dreadnaught’s shields are down to twenty percent. We’re out of time; we need to phase-shift out of here!”

  “Understand. Recall everyone back to the Minian. Have Ricket go ahead and phase-shift The Lilly back as well.”

  Overriding Traveler’s objections, Jason secured the Magnum’s rear hatch and immediately phase-shifted them directly onto the Minian’s flight deck.

  * * *

  Jason made it back to the bridge just in time to witness the next phase-shift. In the blink of an eye they’d traveled another twenty thousand miles. Same as before, combined fleets of Craing warships surrounded them … they were everywhere. Jason sat in the command chair and watched the overhead display.

  “No collisions this time, Captain,” McBride said from the helm. They were progressing at sub-light speed, apparently catching the nearby warships, mostly light and heavy cruiser and various destroyers and smaller gunships, off guard. Jason watched and thought, again, about the Craing’s reasoning for this colossal convergence of ships. He realized they’d assembled here to commence the Great Space assault: a systematic annihilation of all non-Craing life within the sector … “Gunny, over the next quarter hour, prior to phase-shifting, target and destroy as many Craing warships as possible.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Within thirty seconds, the Minian began targeting, and ultimately disabling or destroying, hundreds of Craing vessels. As Jason watched the logistical display and the swath of destruction the Minian was capable of causing, it became crystal clear to him why the Craing were so hell-bent on not only obtaining this Caldurian vessel, but also duplicating her. If Earth, the Alliance, was to have any hope to survive, or perhaps prevail over the Craing, that was exactly what they, the Alliance forces, needed to do. Having a fleet of Minian-type ships could be the answer to ending the war against the Craing Empire once and for all.

  “Incoming,” Orion said, sounding surprisingly calm. “Dreadnaughts directly ahead. Took them a while to coordinate an attack, but now that they’ve plotted our course, we’ll be lucky to fend off the incoming barrage.”

  Jason chided himself for the unbelievably stupid mistake he’d just made. It would have been far better at this point to proceed with short phase-shift jumps to maintain the element of surprise. The Craing’s slow reaction time had offered them an opportunity to hopscotch across their space relatively unscathed. Now, they’d have to wait another quarter hour before they could phase-shift again. Jason made eye contact with his XO, and then with Orion. The three nodded their heads in unison, each coming to the same, obvious, realization at the same time.

  Jason stood and stepped closer to the display. “Is that a meganaught?”

  “Aye, cap. Well, actually we’ll be passing three meganaughts, one after another.”

  “Terrific. What’s that dark patch there?” Jason asked, pointing to a section of space closest to the nearest meganaught.