HAB 12 (Scrapyard Ship) Read Online Free PDF Page B

being overly cautious, but—”
    “That doesn’t explain your flying like a lunatic,” the admiral shot back.
    Jason didn’t respond. Truth was, he was worried. Ultimately, the outpost was his responsibility—the outpost was his idea, he had set it up, and he had put Cramer in charge. Coming within a mile of the outpost, Jason pulled back on the stick to gain some elevation. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think he had the wrong coordinates. The outpost he visited three weeks ago, with its ragtag collection of tents and hastily constructed structures, had been replaced by what looked like a sprawling, modern military compound. Multi-level buildings, three runways, several large hangars, ten Apache helicopters, and the remainder of the massive Allied Craing warship fleet, hundreds of them all lined up in perfect rows disappearing off in the distance well beyond the confines of the original base. Fifteen-foot fencing, topped with razor concertina wire, outlined the distant perimeter. Separate and to the east, also surrounded by fencing and more concertina wire, hundreds of small tents were clustered together. Commonly referred to as Craing City, they hadn’t finished erecting this area three weeks ago. More like a prison, this is where the enemy crewmembers and overlords were being held. Jason took in the view of the outpost below. Strange, Jason thought. No activity—not a soul in sight . He wasn’t going to get any answers hovering up here in the air. Jason looked for a suitable place to set down.
    “Aren’t you going to request permission to land?” the admiral asked.
    “I’ve already left word with Admiral Cramer. Seems to be a real hotbed of activity down there—I think we can find a place to land,” Jason replied sarcastically. Like The Lilly , the Pacesetter was undetectable to sensors, although visible to the naked eye. He scoped out the landscape ahead, entered new coordinates, and phase-shifted from a mile out. An instant later, the Pacesetter was stationary—thirty yards from the entrance into the compound’s largest building.
     
    * * *
     
    They had been ready for them. Even before the cockpit canopy had time to fully open, assault teams were filing out from multiple buildings—easily one hundred men wearing dark grey uniforms and holding automatic weapons were surrounding the Pacesetter. Jason didn’t recognize any of these men; they were definitely from another unit. Some had long hair. Others wore beards. Suddenly, the five Craing battle cruisers dropped from the sky in unison and held position at several hundred feet above the ground. New trainee pilots couldn’t have made that maneuver.
    “Shit, Jason—what the hell were you thinking?”
    “Oh, come on, Dad … It’s good to be unpredictable sometimes. I’m sure it’s fine.” An alarm claxon started howling from all ends of the compound. “But to be safe, don’t make any sudden movements,” Jason said warily.
    “You think?”
    They both slowly emerged from the fighter, one following the other. Once down, they stood with their hands raised. No one spoke, no orders were issued. That’s when Jason noticed the flag. Why would the stars and stripes be flying here—and something else. Something was different about the flag.
    More armed, grey-uniformed soldiers emerged from the nearest building. It was her bright patch of red hair that caught Jason’s attention. Admiral Malinda Cramer, an air of authority in her hurried gate, was leading a small armed contingent headed in their direction.
    “She doesn’t look happy.”
    “That’s right. You haven’t had the pleasure yet,” Jason replied.
    “I’m not sure if I should be intimidated or strangely aroused. That woman projects one hell of a presence,” the admiral said.
    Admiral Cramer halted ten feet in front of Jason and his father.
    “Good morning, Admiral. I’d like to introduce you to—”
    “Be quiet. Don’t speak unless spoken to, Captain Reynolds,” Admiral