Dead End: The Traveler Series, #3

By Frank DeCaire

Amidst the chaos of battling an escaped terrorist, Yamaguchi, who wields deadly alien technology found within the mysterious city, Commander Winters and the crew of the Falling Star find themselves in a desperate struggle for survival. As they contend with Yamaguchi's relentless assaults, a new threat emerges in the form of an alien space station, resuming its relentless attacks on Earth and the stranded crew. With the crew of the Falling Star divided into disparate groups, each fighting to defend themselves against the dual onslaught of Yamaguchi's ruthless tactics and the renewed aggression of the alien space station, tensions mount, and alliances are tested like never before. In the face of overwhelming odds, Winters and his crew must band together, navigate treacherous betrayals, and harness every ounce of their courage and ingenuity to overcome both the external threats and the internal divisions tearing them apart before it's too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank DeCaire
• Release date: Mar 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224861156

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The alien sleeping room was not very large, but Hiller as well as Buchanan, Bennet, Turner, Marrs, and Jowett used it as a refuge. Drones continued to come from both directions of the passageway just outside the room, trapping them in the middle. Lieutenant Hiller stood in the open doorway to the passageway, holding his branch by his side.

His breathing was labored. It was almost time for him to relinquish the branch to someone that was better rested. Was Turner next on the rotation? Hiller was so exhausted that he couldn’t focus and found it difficult to remember who was next. He tried to slow his breathing and relax while waiting for the next wave of drones to attack. The two piles of drones blocking the passageway from the left and right were getting high. In fact, they were over his head. Most of the dead drones were of his own making, but several people had taken turns with the stick.

The ammo for the handguns had run out hours ago. The injured stayed deep inside the room to prevent being shot by the drones again. Hiller knew that one burn from those drones was enough, and he had been hit several times. The first two still ached. Everyone had been shot more than once.

The sound of another group of drones approaching from one direction sharpened his attention. His pain seemed to melt into the background as he braced himself for another wound or two. Sweat dripped down the side of his face, making him wish he had been stuck in a walk-in freezer.

I can take over, said Jowett.

I got this, said Hiller. He glanced at Jowett and wondered how much longer that guy was going to last. Jowett had burns on his neck and face. His clothes had burn spots and Hiller knew that the skin under those spots was probably badly burned. The poor guy tried to hide his limp, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that the man was in extreme pain.

Hiller glanced around the room. Everyone was in pain, and he wasn’t sure how much longer the group would last. Maybe he and the others could get lucky and clog both directions of the passageway with the dead metallic bodies of the drones. The sound of drones buzzing grew closer, and he knew it was only a matter of minutes before they squeezed over the top and attacked.

He glanced at the pile and thanked his lucky stars that the little robots were of many shapes and makes. Some didn’t have a weapon, but holy crap, did they hurt when they ran into your head at high speed. Like getting nailed by a full can of SpaghettiOs. Something he had experienced when he was a teenager and his dad got pissed at him for not taking out the trash. Yeah, the lump on the back of his head took a week to go away. Now he had a new lump in the same spot where a small drone had tried to do him in earlier in the day.

A drone skirted over the top of the pile and dove directly at him. Like a firefly attacking someone walking through a swamp. He swung his bat and missed it. He groaned and decided that he had better keep his eye on the ball if he expected to get a home run with this little guy. At the moment, he had one strike.

He stepped to the side and rotated to face the hovering drone. It dove at him again. This time, Hiller’s eyes were locked onto the target. Instead of panic swinging, he waited until it was at the right distance, then he swung with a power that he recalled only the best batters could pull off. The oddly shaped metallic drone broke into multiple pieces as it rained debris on the pile of dead drones in front of him.

Two more drones came over the pile at one time. The gap near the ceiling was still too large and Hiller hoped after this attack, they could heap up enough of those buggers to close up the hole. It didn’t have to touch the ceiling, but it needed to be too small for the drones to fit through.

Both drones dove toward him, splitting on either side. He hit one with the tip of his bat and the drone spun until it collided with the pile behind him. The pile that blocked the other direction down the passageway. The drone that escaped flew past him and into the room. He backtracked, then tripped over the debris of past destroyed drones. A couple of stumbles were all it took for him to recover. The flying drone took a shot at one of the injured sitting against the wall.

Ouch, said Buchanan. He held the side of his face where he had taken a serious injury earlier. His eye was probably not going to heal and Hiller was certain the kid was going to lose vision on that side.

Hiller stepped into the middle of the room and reared back to get a good swing. It was fortunate that everyone was sitting or lying on the floor, because he was planning to take a power swing. With any luck, his branch would connect with the wayward drone and end this bullshit.

He swung and knocked the drone into the end-zone. Or in this case, the passageway outside, where it bonged against the far wall and ricocheted several times before coming to a silent stop.

He lowered his arm and held the bat while trying to catch his breath again. He was so exhausted from the constant adrenaline rushes followed by breaks too short to recover.

Now, can I have a turn? said Jowett. Jowett held his hand out to take the branch. Hiller didn’t protest this time. He held the back of the bat toward Jowett and let him take it. Then he found a comfortable spot in the corner of the room where he could sit and rest.

Jowett moved to the opening from the room to the passageway and held up the branch like a baseball bat. Hiller had to give him credit. The man knew how to swing. Maybe they could get a baseball team assembled and play some ball.

Maybe.

After the war was over and everything returned to normal. He scoffed at himself. There was never going to be a normal. He would be thankful if they survived the night. If they managed to live to tomorrow, they would probably spend the rest of their miserable lives on this alien world.

There was the sound of another drone approaching. It abruptly stopped. Jowett started laughing like he had heard the funniest joke in his life.

What’s going on? said Lieutenant Marrs.

That little guy got stuck between the top of the pile and the ceiling, said Jowett. There was a high-pitch sound that was followed by a blast from the drone stuck in the pile. The bolt of energy struck Jowett in the leg.

Holy shit, said Jowett. He danced around for a minute. He just hit me in the same spot I got hit before.

The high-pitch sound started again. Jowett picked up a dead drone and threw it a meter into the air, then swung his bat at it. The dead drone flew across the open area until it smacked into the drone that was stuck at the top of the pile.

That was a great hit, said Hiller. Good aim.

Jowett continued to dance around. Yes, sir. That was about ninety-nine percent luck.

Still, you would have made a great batter.

Yeah, pain has a way of focusing the mind.

Hiller tried to get some sleep, but the drones just kept coming. After Jowett batted a few of them, Turner took over. Turner was in no shape to be batting drones, but he tried hard. Hiller thought that the man needed a few lessons in swinging a bat. Fortunately, he was getting plenty of practice at this very moment.

Hiller wished the calvary would arrive soon.

CHAPTER 2

Edward was in the tank running the virtual simulation. He thought about the large sphere that still hung over the city. Any moment now, Yamaguchi was sure to take control of the sphere and resume punching holes in the city. The only weapon he had against the battle sphere was the tiny drones that he could command. He had to use what he could to damage or destroy that thing.

He zoomed through the virtual city, on his way to the drone storage location. He felt much better, even though he had only managed to get a two-hour power nap. He grabbed several small drones with his mind and directed them toward the massive attack sphere that Yamaguchi used earlier to punch holes in the city. The large sphere hovered in the center of the city like it was sleeping. Edward’s first dozen drones fired on the large sphere, but had no effect. When he rammed the sphere, it did some minor damage to the outer shell.

As the drones streamed out of the exit port of the storage room, he followed the first one until he located the large attack sphere. He directed each drone to target the center of the sphere. Each one impacted at nearly the same spot, digging a deep hole into the massive war machine. His only hope was that he could hit something critical inside the sphere and cause it to fail or explode.

He returned to the virtual representation of the drone storage and activated another dozen drones. They flew through the exit port and hovered above the ground. Then he activated another dozen. When he zoomed back, he could see that he would soon run out of drones. The racks were becoming empty.

The drones hovered in a large swarm just above the ground outside the exit port. He touched each one and directed them at the large sphere. The drones took off at high speed, one-by-one as he touched them. Then he focused harder to activate three drones at the same time. The process sped up, but he could feel it taking a toll on his body. There was no way to keep this up for very long.

Twenty-four drones slammed into the large sphere, one at a time. The last drone dove into the large pit that he had created in the sphere’s outer shell, then a virtual explosion displayed particles flying in all directions. A small quake made him smile. That had to be the real attack sphere dropping out of the sky and slamming into the ground. He had accomplished his task of destroying the large sphere.

He rose above the city and scanned all the way around. The Falling Star was not visible anymore. Was the virtual world an accurate representation of the real world? Maybe the alien computers forgot about their ship parked in the distance. He flew over the forest to verify that he was looking at the right spot. Then he put on the brakes and hovered in place.

Six attack spheres hovered over a spot where the Falling Star used to be parked. If the virtual world knew about the six spheres, then it was a forgone conclusion that they must have destroyed the Falling Star. Edward felt the acid in his stomach threatening to bubble up. That could be a disaster inside the thick fluid that he was suspended in.

He wasn’t certain he had enough energy to direct the sheer number of drones he would need to destroy those six spheres, but he had to try.

When he returned to the city, it was difficult not to notice the amount of drone activity in the forest and around the city. It was staggering. Was Yamaguchi controlling all of those drones? He had to be programming the buggers to run on automatic. They seemed to be scanning out a grid pattern, searching...

Edward listened for the buzzing sound, but heard nothing. It was just another worrisome development. Yamaguchi probably figured out how to block the sound from transmitting in the virtual world while he was in the tank. There was nothing he could do about that problem at the moment.

For now, he would have to deal with the attack spheres.

CHAPTER 3

Chief Gibb stared at the rock wall that they had hastily built to protect themselves from the attacking drones. The drones outside were still attempting to shoot their way in. Chief was glad that rocks were adequate for blocking the plasma bolts that the drones were firing at them.

Hernandez fired several bursts and took out the drones that were shooting at them from outside of their make-shift fort. Several shots had made it through the tiny opening he was using to shoot through, hitting him in the arm and chest. Those must have stung like hell, because Hernandez yelped every time he was hit. Chief held his leg where he had gotten shot earlier. A damn bolt of energy seemed to come out of nowhere, causing the extreme pain he was now nursing. The bolt of energy had come through the hole that Hernandez was using to stick his rifle barrel out of. The hole seemed too small for a drone to shoot through. Doc said it was a lucky shot. Well, lucky for the drone, not so lucky for him.

The shooting stopped, and the silence was deafening. Hernandez removed the magazine from his rifle and checked it. It was empty. He tossed it aside and felt around his vest for a fresh mag. There was none. The marine was now out of ammo. Chief knew that this moment would come, but he had hoped it would be much later. Like, maybe, after the drones quit coming.

The sound of dozens of drones hovering outside constantly charging and firing did not cease for long. Where was Yamaguchi getting all those drones?

Hernandez dug through some of the dirt they were sitting on until he found a rock. Then he dug around it, removed it from the dirt and jammed it in the hole. It wasn’t large enough to fill the entire hole, so he dug around some more. Chief dug as well. The sooner they plugged that hole, the less likely they would get shot from a random bolt of energy.

It didn’t take them long to shove three rocks into the hole and cover most of it. It was unlikely that the plasma bolts could get through the tiny openings that remained. Maybe they could use the smaller holes as peep-holes to look out when they were curious if the drones were gone or just frozen in place.

The plasma bolts stopped again.

Looks like Yamaguchi is busy someplace else, said chief. He concentrated as he carefully listened. The only sound was of the wind blowing through the forest outside.

The sound of snoring attracted chief’s attention. Doc was getting some much needed shut-eye. Lucky guy. He was the only guy chief knew that could sleep in the middle of a full-blown battle. Nothing seemed to bother the man. Well, chief supposed, if you had the intestinal fortitude to cut up a body, then everything else was just small-potatoes.

A high-pitch whine started up followed by a plasma blast against the outside of the rock wall. Apparently, Yamaguchi was back on the scene.

I wonder how many shots those things can deal before they need to recharge, said Hernandez.

From my understanding, said chief. According to Edward, those things all have miniature fusion power plants inside of them. They don’t last forever, but they can last a long time before they need to be refueled.

Great.

Chief tried to close his eyes and get some rest. The constant ruckus from those drones trying to blast their way in kept him from dozing off completely. An occasional loud blast would bring him back into the real world.

His brain was almost into a dream state when a loud blast made the ground shake. He sat up straight and bumped his head on the rocky cliff above. This distracted him for a moment as he tried to get his head to stop pounding by holding it with his hand.

Was that a quake? said Doc.

Chief glanced at him, but kept his hand on his forehead. Apparently, there were some things that Doc couldn’t sleep through.

I think it was something bigger than the drones that is shooting at our fort right now, said Hernandez.

Another loud blast was followed by more ground shaking. Whatever caused that was big. Real big.

Hernandez peeked out a small hole as the smaller drones stopped shooting at their rock wall. He pulled out a rock and looked up toward the tops of the trees. Then he put the rock back and looked at chief and Doc.

We gotta get the hell out of here, said Hernandez.

Why? What? said Doc.

It’s one of those massive attack spheres that they usually send through to pound Earth.

Chief got onto his knees and put his hands on the boulder wall. We better get going while the little drones are pausing.

Hernandez put his hand on the boulders, then chief nodded. They pushed at the same time, causing the make-shift boulder wall to topple over. Then chief stuck his head and chest through. Unfortunately, his gut got stuck in the opening that was just a little too small. Hernandez pushed more rocks out of his way, then pulled a boulder out from under chief.

Chief Gibb tumbled out of the little cave they were hiding in. Doc followed while cradling his cast.

Hernandez pointed into the forest. Let’s go that way.

No arguments from me, said chief.

None from me, either, said Doc.

CHAPTER 4

The engines of the civilian transport constantly roared in the background as it made its way past Saturn’s orbit. These type of ships had almost no sound proofing, contained cheap hardware, and engines that had seen less maintenance than an abandoned ground car. Several metallic objects banged against the bulkheads as the vibration of the engines made them bounce around. A vibration in the decking felt as though the ship might to fall apart at any moment.

The seats that were haphazardly bolted to the deck were not uncomfortable, but they were not first class either. Then there was that smell. What was that smell? Salvatore tried to identify it, but he was certain it was a combination of several foul odors. A dead rodent, urine, and maybe even a burned out motor. He had hoped to get used to the smells, but it was proving to be difficult. Just as one smell dissipated, another would waft through the ventilation system and irritate his nose.

Salvatore kept his eyes closed, but he was not sleeping. He tracked every crew member that walked through the passenger space by the sounds they made as they moved about. When he used the facilities or obtained something to eat, he made it a point to notice the people that roamed around the ship that he and Pittman had chartered. He also made it a point to move about at random times of the day and night. There was always the possibility that a crew member they had never seen worked only the night shifts and never showed during the daytime hours.

Pittman sat a few seats down from Salvatore and was sound asleep. He would do his job when it was required, Salvatore was certain of that. When he peeked through a crack in his eyelids, he saw that there was a fat man in a seat in front of him, snoring up a storm. They would have to take care of him. No witnesses.

Behind them was another man, who he thought looked like a homeless person. He wore rags and smelled like a brewery. The man also slurred his words when he spoke to crew members. Salvatore planned to toss him out of the airlock as soon as it was convenient. There should be little difficulty in making that happen. The guy was too drunk to fight back. Nobody would miss him.

Another man in a row behind had stretched out on multiple seats. Salvatore wanted to know what his story was, but he kept to himself and spoke few words. Was the guy a fed? Salvatore didn’t think he was, though he wasn’t sure what it was that made him believe the man was not an undercover authority. Those were the type of adversaries that worried him the most. The ones that could be former military or someone with extensive fighting skills. He would have to catch the man by surprise to reduce any potential combat situations.

The ship’s crew consisted of four people that they knew of. The captain, his first mate, and two others that seemed to be hired help. They all were trained to keep their mouths shut. Salvatore was certain the entire crew were involved in their own illegal activities. Probably drug running. The passengers they transported were just some side cash that they probably expanded into. They had to know that they were dealing with potentially dangerous passengers. Which meant that they must have small arms on the craft some place hidden.

The rear compartment hatch clanked open. Someone stepped in then closed the hatch. Salvatore sat up in his seat and rubbed his eyes as if he were just awakened from a long nap. He casually glanced to his right and saw one of the crew. The man pointed to each seat that contained a person, then wrote something on a piece of paper. That could only mean that the crew member was taking a head count. Salvatore mentally recorded the time. This was the third time he had noticed a crew member taking a head count. The time was fifteen minutes before shift change. Maybe they wanted to make sure their passengers didn’t see their shift change. Or they just took a head count before reporting for their shift. Either way, he would have to avoid walking around the ship during this time frame. Especially when he was ready to spring his trap.

There was one other detail that Salvatore took note of. The crew was never seen together. Not all of them. There would always be one or two that were out of sight. He would have to find out where they hid before he made his move. There was plenty of time. They had at least a day before arriving at the destination the ship was headed. Salvatore and Pittman could wait until the very last minute to spring their trap, take over the ship, and go to the destination they really wanted to go to.

All they had to do was wait for the right moment.

CHAPTER 5

Commander Winters and Sergeant Thompson hid in the thick brush near the edge of the forest. The large battle spheres still