Ghost Squadron Omnibus

by Sarah Noffke

“What?” Lars whispered. “They’re early.”

  “You can do it,” Nona encouraged, her voice a hush.

  Fletcher couldn’t say anything, Lars knew, since his position was the trickiest—right outside the cave entrance.

  “Yeah, I’ve got this,” Lars assured, and he scrambled faster, over the side of a large rock, diving for the one above.

  It was an easy climb, just a series of large steps. He only hoped that the descent would be as easy.

  “I’m here,” he said over the comm when he was crouched below the peak.

  From this angle, the guards in the lookout tower on the south end could spot him.

  “The replacements are passing your location on the ground in three, two…now,” Nona stated, her voice an excited hush.

  Lars popped up and jumped onto the boulder. He stared down at the trail below, roughly twenty feet down. Two guards were marching along the path, heading for the cave entrance in the distance. From his vantage point, he could spot the guards stationed there, which meant they could see him, too. He tensed, looking around.

  Being bait was incredibly nerve-wracking when the fish weren’t biting.

  The guards continued striding for the cave, too involved in their conversation to look up. The guards positioned by the entrance were focused on something to the side of the cave.

  “Alert! Intruder!” the lookout from the tower yelled.

  “Finally,” Lars breathed.

  The guards on the ground whipped their heads up, narrowing their eyes at the sight of Lars. The ones by the cave entrance reacted immediately, scrambling down the side of the rock and nearly slipping in their pursuit.

  The lookout, having been shot, fell from the top of the tower, as Lars wheeled around and leapt off the boulders. He landed with a hard thud, rolling before stopping his momentum.

  He sprinted through the jungle, not at all trying to be stealthy, leaves and vines slicing at him as he passed. He only needed to outrun these thugs and make it back to the Q-Ship in time.

  Only a little farther, he told himself, pushing forward on his toes, nearly blinded by the thick vegetation he passed in a blur.

  The compound had broken out in complete chaos.

  The guards backed up, finding refuge inside the structure, which made it impossible for Nona to pick off any more of them. She’d taken out both lookouts from her place high in a tree. Then when Lars had been spotted, she had knocked off the two brutes standing on either side of the compound. That left two more, but they had retreated inside the open shelter.

  Nona swung down from the tree, landing low on the sandy ground. She pulled her gun from its holster, keeping her weapon steady as she scanned the darkening forest. The compound had fallen silent.

  The cowards are hiding. That was fine by her; she was excellent at this game, especially cloaked.

  Striding toward the entrance, Nona checked over her shoulder. Lars should be back at the ship by now.

  “I’m in,” Fletcher stated over the comm.

  Everything is going according to plan so far, Nona thought, entering the cool shade of the structure.

  The thatched roof was held up by large support beams, and mesh nets hung from the rafters. In the center, stacked crates formed a makeshift room, but didn’t reach all the way to the ceiling.

  Sliding her back along the first wall of crates, Nona stepped sideways, pausing when she came to a corner. She peeked around the pillar of crates, and caught movement on the other side of the compound. A Kezzin was fleeing, setting off to the west where the ships were docked. He was almost too far to reach.

  Nona holstered her pistol, pulling her sniper rifle off her back and quickly taking aim. She fired once, shooting the retreating Kezzin in the back, and he fell flat. She lowered her rifle, feeling pride growing in her chest at the quick kill.

  Behind her, she heard a click.

  Lars could smell the salty air of the ocean. Light filtered through the leaves as he progressed, the jungle thinning. Only a few more yards. He burst out into the open air of the beach and halted.

  Two Kezzin holding rifles stood in front of him, blocking his path to the cloaked Q-Ship.

  “Hands up!” one of them ordered.

  Lars’ hands twitched by his sides. He was fast, but he wasn’t sure if he was quick enough to outmaneuver both guards.

  “I’m lost,” he lied. “Me being here is an accident.”

  “An accident?” one of the Kezzin growled. He pointing at the closest tower using his rifle. “Is it an accident our men were killed?” The Kezzin’s eyes were hollow.

  Lars knew they were murderers, but there was something supremely sinister about these two.

  Lars’ fingers twitched by his gun.

  “Take off your boots!” one of the brutes said.

  “You got the boots the last time,” the other complained.

  “And I’m getting them this time.”

  Lars decided these weren’t the type to negotiate with.

  He shot his head to the side, like he’d heard a noise beside them. As he intended, this caught the attention of both guards, momentarily distracting them. When they checked over their shoulders, he reached for his gun and yanked it up, firing off a shot at the closest Kezzin.

  The pirate flew back, nearly knocking into the cloaked Q-Ship. The other Kezzin fired in response.

  A stabbing pain shot through Lars’ shoulder, and he went soaring backward from the close-range assault. His gun fell to the sand with a muffled thud. Clapping his hand over his injured shoulder, he coughed, feeling an obstruction in his airways.

  “Now I’ll have to take the boots myself,” the pirate said, aiming his weapon at Lars’ head.

  He couldn’t believe this was how it was going to end—looking down the barrel of a gun, and one of his own, a fellow Kezzin, about to pull the trigger.

  Nona stiffened, her finger moving back over her trigger. She had only one option.

  Dropping her body weight, she ducked and slid around the corner of the crate, getting behind cover. Gunshots zipped by, too close for comfort. She spun, angling her rifle around the side of the crate, and fired at a figure. She was too late; he had slid back behind the crates on the other side.

  Fuck!

  Although she was still cloaked, this Kezzin knew her location. Thankfully, she also knew his.

  A shuffling noise caught her attention, but Nona couldn’t tell if the pirate was coming around from the left or the right. Actually, it sounds like it’s overhead. She looked up at the ceiling to spy only open rafters and the backside of the thatched roof.

  Then she remembered that the crates behind her didn’t reach all the way up to the ceiling. Nona spun around, her rifle at the ready.

  Pulling himself up onto the top crate, roughly fifteen feet off the ground, was the Kezzin. He surveyed the ground, trying to locate Nona’s cloaked form.

  She took a step back, considering how to handle the enemy. Maybe I can disarm and restrain him…

  Then the Kezzin pulled an automatic weapon from behind his back.

  Where the fuck did that come from?!

  He pointed the gun at the ground, a vengeful menace on his face. This pirate wasn’t taking any chances.

  Fueled by preservation and directed by instinct, Nona aimed at the Kezzin and fired once, hitting him straight in the chest. He stumbled back a step and fell over the side of the crates, crashing to the ground.

  Nona took a deep breath to steady herself, but the sound of gunfire in the distance stole the moment she had to refresh.

  Lars!

  She bounded for the jungle.

  When the guards at the entrance to the cave were pulled in Lars’ direction, Fletcher slipped inside. He could have shot them to gain entry, but it was best if Rosco got as little warning of the attack as possible. As it was, these goons would be in radio communication with each other, which meant Fletcher had to be fast.

  The cave was lit by fire, and the tunnel was surprisingly wide. Fletch
er blinked as his eyes adjusted. Ahead, he could make out the back of a rather large Kezzin, easily taller than Lars. The pirate reached for the radio receiver that was squawking on his belt.

  This is it, Fletcher thought. The communication that will send everything into chaos.

  “What’s that?” the Kezzin said into the radio.

  A voice crackled from the other end, the perfect cover for Fletcher’s footsteps.

  “Did you say ‘invasion’?” the Kezzin asked.

  Fletcher pulled a length of wire from his pocket, readying himself.

  “There’s a sniper—” The voice cut out.

  “Nacha?” the Kezzin asked. “Nacha, where’d you go?”

  Fletcher said a silent prayer as he swung the wire around the Kezzin’s head. When it was at the large alien’s throat, Fletcher yanked with all his strength, pulling his target backward.

  The pirate’s arms flew into the air, and a gurgling sound echoed from his mouth.

  Fletcher nearly flew back from the weight of the Kezzin pressing against him, but was able to secure their position beside the cave wall. He tightened his grip on the wire and yanked again.

  The pirate fell still.

  Fletcher allowed the Kezzin to slip from his grip, quietly depositing him on the ground. He was a little surprised that he’d been able to take down the much larger alien.

  “What?!” a voice boomed from nearby. “Not on my island!”

  Fletcher let out a hot breath. He’d imagined this moment for years…The chance to face his father’s murderer. Each time, it ended in blackness. Fletcher could never visualize how he’d finish Rosco.

  He took a step forward, eager for what came next.

  Lars always thought he’d close his eyes when faced with his death. It surprised him that he now blinked back at his would-be murderer, not even flinching as he stared up the length of a gun. The pirate sneered down at him, no decency in his eyes, as Lars lay in the sand, injured and bleeding.

  A shot rang through the air.

  Lars thought he was numb, and that the bullet had ripped through him, about to end his life. Maybe I’m in shock. Maybe, in death, there is no pain.

  He pulled his eyes away from his murderer’s to look at his torso, where he expected to see a fresh wound. There was nothing.

  The goon in front of him screamed and dropped his gun. Lars couldn’t understand why there was a bright, crimson stain blossoming across the pirate’s shirt in the center of his chest, growing fast.

  Slapping his hand over the wound, the brute fell to his knees, confusion written on his face.

  Lars pushed up onto his hands, though his shoulder screamed from the effort. He shuffled backward as the guard fell forward, landing on his face.

  Behind him, standing like a warrior returning home to find their land pillaged, stood Nona. Her face was contorted in a fierce expression. At the sight of Lars laying wounded, she sprinted forward.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine thanks to you,” Lars said, grimacing as he tried to stand.

  Nona helped him up, checking over her shoulder for more guards.

  “Did you get them all?” Lars asked, leaning on her a bit more than he liked.

  “That was the last one on the ground,” Nona stated, opening the cloaked Q-Ship. “All that remain are the ones in the cave.”

  Fletcher slid around the corner, his back firmly pressed against the cave wall. In the next room, the firelight was brighter.

  “What do you mean no one is answering?” Rosco yelled.

  “I don’t know, sir,” a voice said. “I can’t explain it.”

  “Well, go out there and see what’s happening,” Rosco ordered. “If it’s those damn tribespeople, I’ll roast them over their own fires tonight!”

  Footsteps drew closer. Fletcher threw out his arm as the Kezzin came around the corner, knocking the goon in the throat. Fletcher reached his other arm around the guard’s neck and pulled out his gun, pointing it forward. Grateful this Kezzin wasn’t as large as the one he’d just killed, Fletcher pushed his catch forward, using his body as a shield.

  Rosco had heard the assault and was holding up his gun, pointing it straight at Fletcher when he came into view.

  “What do you want, human?” Rosco yelled, his voice full of laughter.

  “Put down your gun,” Fletcher demanded, his eyes narrowing at the vermin before him.

  Rosco didn’t look too different from most Kezzin. Maybe overfed a bit, and with a special bitterness in his eyes, but otherwise, he had all the same features.

  He laughed and shot once, hitting the Kezzin in Fletcher’s grasp.

  The alien yelped in pain, trying to reach for the wound in his abdomen. His weight and the force behind the impact of the bullet nearly made Fletcher double over. He threw the Kezzin to the ground, seeing him now as more of a liability than a shield. The guard cried out in pain, trying to say, ‘Why?’.

  Looking rather annoyed, Rosco fired at the Kezzin again, killing him. Fletcher was prepared for that and used the opportunity to fire at Rosco, knocking the gun from his hand. He could have shot him dead right then, but he needed to tell this Kezzin why he had hunted him down. He needed to see Rosco’s face when he explained why he was ruining him.

  Rosco growled and dropped his gun, waving his injured hand like it was on fire. “You!” he said viciously.

  “You killed your own man,” Fletcher said, aiming straight at the Kezzin’s heart.

  “He knew it was a possibility when he signed up,” Rosco said, his voice deep and rough.

  “When you enslaved him,” Fletcher corrected.

  Rosco smiled, not seeming at all put off by being forced to stare at the barrel of someone else’s gun.

  “I know all about you,” Fletcher began. “You take these men when they’re young. You tell them that you saved them from something, but really it was you who murdered their family or burned their village to the ground or stole everything they owned. It’s you they should be running from, but none figure it out until it’s too late. You force these men to work for you, and none of them know the truth.”

  Rosco reached for something at his waist. Fletcher fired again, shooting the pirate in the foot.

  “You motherfucker!” Rosco yelled. “How dare you come here?! What do you want?”

  “Everyone on this island is dead,” Fletcher informed him. “You’re about to join them.”

  “What did I do? Take your treasure? Steal your home?”

  There was no remorse in Rosco’s voice. Fletcher’s hand shook.

  “You killed my father.”

  An evil laugh ripped from Rosco’s mouth as he hopped on one foot, blood spilling from the hole in his boot where his foot was wounded. “Join the club, you sappy human. I kill. That’s what the Kezzin do. Get over it.”

  Fletcher aimed his gun to the left and shot again, the loud bang echoing off the cave walls. The bullet shot through the fleshy part of Rosco’s bicep; he had more flesh than most Kezzin, and he screamed again, clapping his hand over his arm.

  “That’s not what Kezzin do,” Fletcher corrected. “That’s what you do, you fucking worthless maggot, fucking piece of shit.” He was suddenly flooded with emotion, like the dam he’d built all those years ago when his father died had suddenly burst open.

  “Fine!” Rosco yelled, his voice raw with physical pain. “You want to kill me? Kill me! Do it now! Get the revenge you came for.”

  Fletcher aimed at the alien’s heart.

  All he had to do was pull the trigger, and it would all be over. He’d made Rosco suffer, as he’d intended. He’d told him what he came here for. And Fletcher saw with his own eyes the despicable savage who had murdered his father.

  And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to end him. There was something stopping him. Something telling him that there was another way. A different path his father would have wanted for him.

  “Rosco, you are under arrest for the murder of C
ornell Fletcher, as well as for many other crimes,” Fletcher intoned, disbelieving what he was saying.

  “What?” Rosco asked, sounding grossly alarmed by this news.

  “You’ll be tried and sentenced for your crimes, because death is too kind an end for you.”

  “No!” Rosco yelled, blood oozing down his arm. “No, just kill me.”

  Fletcher wasn’t sure why he had done it, but this was the right option; he knew it with such certainty. He didn’t automatically feel lighter, though, as he thought he would. He realized it would take more than revenge for him to get over his father’s death, but he also knew he hadn’t come for revenge. He’d come for justice.

  An intuition as ingrained in him as his father’s love told Fletcher that he would get it. Apprehending Rosco would bring about justice for thousands, not just for Fletcher.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jack’s Office, Ricky Bobby, Tangki System

  Fletcher kept his eyes low and his elbows pinned on his knees as Eddie paced the room. Julianna stood stoically nearby, as usual.

  “What do you think Jack meant when he said, ‘this could change everything’?” Eddie asked.

  Fletcher shook his head, feeling the space between his thoughts evaporate a little more. His head was feeling increasingly crowded.

  The look on Nona’s and Lars’ faces when Fletcher marched Rosco onto the ship had made him question his decision.

  Twice, he’d held his gun to the pirate’s head, but each time something deep within him told him he didn’t want the alien’s blood on his hands. Fletcher was trained to kill. He was practiced at handling the complexity that came with ending a life. However, he couldn’t kill Rosco—the one person he’d been dreaming of hunting down for years.

  Life was weirdly ironic.

  The captain and commander were even more surprised than Nona and Lars were when they found out Rosco was locked up in the brig of Ricky Bobby. Jack, who hadn’t known about the side mission at all, was totally stunned when he got the news. He took off for the brig with an exclamation, sprinting through the corridors, his suit jacket flying behind him.