“Are you coming back to me, Jason?” Dira said, concern in her voice.

  Jason let his fingers somewhat tighten on the ladder rung. What a delightful voice. He’d always loved that accent … he heard it again.

  “Jason. I want you to come back to me. I love you. You need to keep going … come on … climb. One hand at a time, you can do it.”

  Jason looked down and saw Billy gazing up at him. It was subtle, but he’d nodded. He’d give it a try, if Jason would. They climbed. Rung by rung. Near the top of the ladder the Pacesetter’s storage compartment side-panel was already open. As if moving through thick, viscous syrup, Jason first transferred his multi-gun and then his rucksack into the locker. A step and then another and he was lifting his left leg over the top cowling of the cockpit. Everything’s spinning … stop the spinning.

  Billy was next, trying to get his leg over and into the cockpit. If their situation wasn’t so dire, it would have been humorous. But this was far from funny. Behind Billy’s amber visor, Jason could see glistening tracks of tears on his friend’s cheeks. He simply had nothing left … his reserves were totally spent.

  “Ready to lead, ready to follow, never quit,” Jason told him. The SEAL motto was barely audible, but his Cuban friend heard it. Billy’s eyes locked on Jason’s.

  “I’m sorry buddy. I don’t think I can—”

  Jason cut him off. “Ready to lead, ready to follow, never quit. Come on. Say it with me, Billy … ready to lead, ready to follow, never quit.”

  Billy mumbled the words in unison. Jason repeated them louder. Billy also spoke them a bit louder. Then both voiced the motto still louder, until both were yelling the SEAL motto, ready to lead, ready to follow, never quit, at the top of their lungs. Billy finally got his leg up and over into the cockpit and tumbled inside.

  The last thing Jason remembered before blacking out was the sound of the vacuum thump as the cockpit closed securely around them.

  Chapter 40

  Ot-Mul’s orders were explicit. He was to be kept up to date on all activities concerning the Caldurian vessel, which was apparently now powerless as well as defenseless, and sitting marooned amidst thousands of surrounding Craing warships. Destruction of that ship was no longer an option. The technology was so advanced—its destructive prowess so amazing, Ot-Mul realized the ship was essential to the future success of the Craing Empire. He shook his head as he reread the most recent detailed accounting of the battle currently going on in Craing space. Only now had he come to realize, and appreciate, Lom’s over-preoccupation with the Caldurian vessel. How a single ship had fended off thousands—full fleets of Craing warships—was beyond amazing.

  Looking up to the display before him, Ot-Mul’s amazement quickly turned to anger. The video feed, emanating from seventy-five light-years away, showed the Minian back in Craing space. But scorched and battered—nearly unrecognizable, she looked more like space trash than the technological wonder she truly was.

  He’d already given the order for the fleet to back off—to stop any further destruction of the vessel. They were to recover the Minian and take her back to Terplin. Yes, soon … he would have that ship for his own.

  “My Lord, we are nearing Carz-mau space.”

  “I’ve already made my orders perfectly clear. We’ll continue on to Earth without delay.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” his second-in-command replied. “We have new information. What remains of the Mau fleet, more than four hundred warships, has been detected by a small Craing outpost. According to them, they are less than one day out from Carz-mau. It is apparent they are returning to protect their home world.”

  Ot-Mul continued to stare at his second. He was right—this did change things. He didn’t like the Mau. The truth was, they unnerved him. Their gaping, open-mouthed faces were hideous. They were an abomination. Carz-mau and all other planetary systems in the sector were slated for destruction as part of the Great Space initiative. Letting the Mau fleet of powerful warships return home could come back to bite him in the ass later.

  “Change course for Carz-mau space. Thank you, Ry-Jon, for bringing this to my attention.”

  * * *

  It took nearly four hours for the Craing fleet, along with his six Vanguard dreadnaughts, to reach the outskirts of Carz-mau space. As far as Ot-Mul was concerned, seeing the distant planet now coming into view, it was just one more drab-looking, dirt-colored planet, amongst thousands—millions—of other dirt-colored planets in this part of the sector that needed to be expunged … turned to dust.

  Ot-Mul ordered his Vanguards to break formation and take up their proper upper-orbit positions around Carz-mau.

  “Sire, we have incoming ordnances from the planet surface. Also, five Mau warships are headed inbound from their closest moon.”

  “Go to battle stations. Order the fleet to deal with the warships first. They can use the practice.”

  “We are tracking thirty-two inbound fusion-tipped warheads, sire. Six of them are locked onto our vessel,” Ry-Jon reported.

  Six missiles against the might of a dreadnaught? A Vanguard dreadnaught, no less. Ot-Mul smiled and gave the order: “Take them out.”

  He stifled a yawn and let his mind wander a bit. He thought about his mate, Molis. He missed her and mentally vowed he would return to her soon—to their home on the most distant, the seventh, Craing world. He wondered if she was proud of his recent accomplishments and if she was looking forward to relocating to Terplin. Of course … a new Emperor’s Palace would have to be built. All that would take time.

  His undisguised disinterest in events now taking place in Carz-mau space, and the six approaching missiles, changed to something resembling mild curiosity. Thus far the missiles had avoided Craing defenses with relative ease.

  “Is there a problem?” Ot-Mul asked, now sitting up straighter in his seat.

  “There does seem to be a temporary issue … we have not been able to get a lock on the missiles just yet,” Ry-Jon said, not sounding in the least confident.

  Both Ot-Mul and Ry-Jon got to their feet and stared at the largest of the bridge displays. Ry-Jon turned and smiled. “Four of the incoming missiles have been destroyed …” His words were interrupted by a distant rumble then followed by multiple violent tremors. Ot-Mul reached for something to hold on to and grabbed the armrest of his chair. He knew exactly which part of his ship was struck; they’d just lost one of their primary drives. The ship shook again, this time far more violently. Apparently, the second Mau missile had also evaded their defenses.

  Ot-Mul watched the display in disbelief. As surprising as it was, his own highly-advanced Vanguard warship was damaged; numerous damage reports were also coming in from other Vanguard ships. None had gone unscathed.

  Ot-Mul ordered, “Destroy that planet. Do it now!” He continued to watch the display, waiting to see plasma pulses from his ship and the other Craing ships pound the planet below. But the plasma pulses weren’t coming. “What’s the problem, my second?”

  “It’s the Mau ships, sire. They are evading any of our attempts to lock on and track them.”

  Ot-Mul stifled the anger building within his solar plexus. “Give the order one more time. Their first priority is to destroy that planet. Any of my captains who disobey me again will find themselves butchered, thrown into hot caldrons, and feasted on for tonight’s ritual.”

  Ry-Jon conveyed the orders, as well as Ot-Mul’s specific threats, across the Vanguard fleet. Within moments Ot-Mul watched as his Vanguard dreadnaughts began their relentless, thundering plasma fire assault onto the planet below. With a relatively low water content, Carz-mau was soon a dark red, glowing, orb. Certainly by now, he figured, every living thing on the planet was dead, and that was some consolation for the damage inflicted on his fleet.

  Ot-Mul’s eyes moved from the scorched planet and leveled on the Mau warships still in space. The smile returned to his thin lips. He wondered what the crews of those vessels must be experiencing at this moment: the anguish … the horrific realization that their repugnant species was so near extinction. “That should take a bit of the fight out of them, don’t you think?” Ot-Mul questioned to no one in particular. He returned to his seat and continued to watch the skirmish with the Mau warships.

  In a distant fireball, one of the Mau warships exploded. “One down, four to go,” Ot-Mul said, with surprising levity in his voice. The display zoomed closer in on a dreadnaught and the remaining four Mau vessels, which were rolling and darting about in a vee formation that was so tight, so in unison, it was hard to distinguish the wings of one vessel from the next. The Mau ships increased their already spectacular speed and moved further away from the closest dreadnaught.

  Ot-Mul sneered, “Go ahead and flee. You have nowhere to go … you have no home to return to.” But his words sounded hollow in light of what followed next. In a sweeping, almost majestic-looking arc, the small fleet of Mau warships came out of their final tight maneuver only to increase their speed once again. Like the tip of an arrow, the tightly bunched Mau ships drove their combined momentous force of exotic metals, antimatter propellant, and biological substances into the dreadnaught’s most vulnerable, most combustible location. Not one, but two horrendous explosions occurred simultaneously, as both the dreadnaught and the planet Carz-Mau ceased to further exist.

  With a gaping, open mouthed expression, not too dissimilar to that of a Mau, Ot-Mul continued to stare at the empty space beyond. The silence on the acting emperor’s command ship bridge was absolute. No one dared speak for several long minutes.

  “My Lord, what are your orders?”

  Ot-Mul turned his gaze to his second-in-command. “First, we alter course for the closest loop wormhole coordinates. Next, you will ensure a replacement dreadnaught has been delivered there and is waiting for us by the time we arrive. We will then proceed, with all haste, to our original destination. We will have no more diversions or distractions … by this time tomorrow, we will be sitting in Earth’s high orbit.”

  Chapter 41

  Jason awoke in a MediPod. Other than feeling thirsty and somewhat tired, he felt pretty good. He saw movement through the small observation window and then saw Dira’s face looking back at him. As the clamshell lid began to open, she stood back and waited—her arms crossed beneath her breasts. She smiled, but there was obvious strain showing in her eyes. Jason sat up and she helped him out and to stand up. With a quick glance into the next MediPod, he saw it occupied by Billy.

  “He’ll be fine. He was in a bit worse shape than you. He’ll need another few minutes in there,” she said. Jason felt her arms encircle him and her head on his chest. Her muffled voice said, “I thought you were dead. I thought I’d lost you.” She raised her head and he could see she’d been crying.

  “That was a close one. I have to admit, I didn’t think we’d make it back.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and pulled his head down for a kiss. When they pulled apart she continued to hold his face in her hands. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

  “I’ll do my best. What’s going on with the power bales? Was Ricket able to get them interfaced to the Minian?”

  The strain returned to her face. She shook her head and stepped back. “Jason, it was horrible. Once the shields went down, the Minian was defenseless. The pounding was intense—impossible to withstand … the missile strikes kept coming and coming. It was so awful. We were pretty much resolved we were all going to die.”

  Jason pulled her close again while listening for sounds around them. “So what happened? I don’t hear anything …”

  “Well, that was the strangest thing. One second the Minian was being hammered, the hull breached in multiple locations and venting air out into space, and then they just stopped. They no longer fired on us.”

  “That’s because someone high up the Craing food chain ordered them to stop. Destruction of the Minian, as well as The Lilly, would be counter-productive to their long-term plans to dominate the known universe. I’m guessing they want this ship’s Caldurian technology more than ever. Now that we’re apparently no longer a threat, they can wait us out for as long as it takes.”

  Dira said, “That’s what Ricket and Granger figured as well. Anyway, everyone’s back here, on The Lilly, except Ricket, Granger, and several others, who are all trying to get those power bales connected to the Minian.”

  Jason thought about what she said. Truth was, he knew the Craing would only wait so long before they’d attempt to take back the Minian by force. And they wouldn’t attack alone. That wasn’t their style. Hell, they had ample supplies of Serapins or pill bugs or centipedes, or whatever else, in their arsenal. No, soon they’d be coming, to breach their hull, sending in as many of their alien killing-machines as it took.

  * * *

  Jason made a stop in his quarters where he showered and quickly looked at his messages. The admiral needed to talk to him. There were also separate video messages from Nan and Mollie, as well as one from Boomer, on the Cutlass. He’d watch them later. Right now he needed to get up to speed on Ricket’s status with the power bales, and getting the Minian safely out of Craing space.

  Jason hailed Ricket.

  “Go for Ricket.”

  “Where are you at?”

  “Minian’s Engineering section. Environment systems are down. You’ll need a battle suit, Captain.”

  “I understand.” Jason triggered the small SuitPac device attached to the front of his belt and waited for his battle suit to expand in segments around him. He configured the appropriate phase-shift coordinates on his HUD and, in a flash, stood in the middle of the Minian’s Engineering department.

  Jason immediately noticed the Minian’s gravity generators had been adversely affected—half of what they should be. He was finding he needed to watch his movements, his steps; it was too easy to drift upward for prolonged moments, before slowly drifting back down again. He followed the life-icon locations, displayed at the bottom of his HUD, and moved down several wide corridors and around a corner to a smaller compartment, where he found Ricket, Granger, and Bristol kneeling in front of a towering rack of equipment. They were huddled around something lower to the deck. Ricket had plugged something together and Jason saw that the eight power bales were contained within a clear housing of some sort, with multiple cables attached that connected the power bales to equipment connectors on the Minian.

  They all turned to acknowledge Jason’s arrival. Ricket said, “Captain, it’s good to see you up and around.”

  “It’s good to be up and around. I’m guessing it was you who remotely phase-shifted the Pacesetter back here? Saved our lives.”

  Ricket shrugged, “It was not difficult.”

  Granger was adjusting something on the bottommost device on the equipment rack. He was tracing each of the cables, one at a time, to ensure their proper connections. Seeming satisfied, he stood and looked at Jason. “We’ll only have one shot at this, Captain. Eight power bales would power a dreadnaught for six months. It will power the Minian for mere minutes.”

  “What we really need is time to repair the Minian’s own propulsion systems,” Bristol added.

  “How long would that take?”

  “Hell if I know … Several days, probably.”

  “We don’t have several days. I’m sure you are all aware what’s coming next. How the Craing will take back control of this vessel,” Jason said flatly.

  Ricket and Granger both nodded while Bristol didn’t seem to know.

  “Tell me what to expect … the whole multiverse aspect?” Jason asked. He was highly aware their options for fleeing Craing space were now limited. The Minian’s capability to travel into the multiverse had always intrigued him, but had made him nervous at the same time. What if they got marooned there? How far could he trust Granger that this wouldn’t be some kind of hoax for him to gain his freedom?

  “It’s really quite simple,” Granger said. “We’ll initialize the Zip Farm interface and, if everything is operating correctly, we’ll find ourselves at the way station. You’ve seen it before, Captain.”

  Indeed, Jason did remember. He’d been there, in the caverns beneath the Chihuahuan Desert outpost, close to a year earlier. On first impression, it had reminded him of Grand Central Station, in New York City, but on a much grander scale. Massive portal windows, hundreds of them, filled the walls: across, below, to their sides, and even above them. Space vessels, some massive in size, slowly moved from portal to portal. He remembered there was an eerie soundlessness to everything. He let his mind return to that past conversation …

  Jason spoke first. “These ships. They’re moving throughout the universe?”

  It was Ricket who answered. “Not the universe, Captain. The multiverse.”

  Granger smiled down at Ricket and nodded. “Continue, Ricket.”

  “We’ve discussed this before, Captain. But seeing it manifested like this is something else entirely … There are infinite layers or membranes of separate universes that exist and coexist in time and space simultaneously.”

  Granger added, “Where we are standing is actually located in a multiverse membrane that depicts events in six dimensions, versus your three dimensions. What you’re looking at is a multiverse way station.”

  “So, you’re saying this isn’t actually the sixth dimension?”

  Granger answered, “No, this is only a three-dimensional representation of the sixth dimension. The sixth dimension takes place strictly in the realm of math, not physicality.”

  Ricket nodded approvingly. “I take it those ships are Caldurian vessels moving between multiverse layers?”

  “That is correct.”

  Jason returned his focus to the here and now. “All we need to do is travel beyond Craing space, back to the Orange Corridor, where we can reunite with our convoy and head back to Earth. Will this setup,” Jason gestured toward the power bales, “give us enough time to move from here to there?”