A Star Rising (The Star Scout Saga Book 1)

by GARY DARBY

  “Extend the lifters,” Zane ordered.

  “Lifters extending.” She scanned her board. “Full extension and locked.”

  “Readout,” Zane ordered.

  Karm nodded and replied, “Passing through ten thousand . . . eight. We’re at five thousand . . . passing through four and now three.”

  A few seconds later she called out, “Two thousand.”

  She hesitated and her voice became tense. “Coming up on one thousand meters.”

  Another few seconds passed. “Five hundred meters,” she stated.

  And then, “Five hundred meters.”

  If Dason had had his knife, he could have sliced the tension in the room before Karm said, her voice sounding more like a barely held croak, “Holding at five hundred.”

  Zane nodded and with a tiny smile remarked, “You can breathe now, Karm. She’s steady. I think we’re okay.”

  “Thanks, I will,” Karm replied and took a deep breath.

  Dason found he had been holding his own breath and exhaled in a long drawn-out sigh. He glanced at Sami and smiled. “You can open your eyes now, Sami.”

  Sami snapped his eyes open. “We’re alive.”

  “Yeah,” Dason answered, “but it was close. At our descent velocity, we were about a second from being just one more crater on the surface.”

  Sami pursed his lips in response to Dason’s observation and wiped a hand across his brow.

  Turning his attention back to the pilots, who were making slight adjustments to their flight attitude, Dason heard Zane say to Karm, “I don’t think we should try for the planned landing spot. I don’t want to stress these thrusters more than I have to. Do you concur?”

  “Yes. The sooner we set down, the better.”

  Zane turned his head to the side and spoke to Bianca. “With the damage we’ve sustained, we need to land at the first possible location.”

  With a quick nod of agreement, she replied, “So ordered.”

  “Going to S curves,” Zane stated. “Karm, find me a landing site, and close by would be real nice.”

  “On it,” Karm acknowledged and brought up a topographic view of the planet’s terrain.

  Rolling the craft in a long arc to the left and then to the right, and with judicious use of his forward thrusters, Zane slowed their speed. After a few minutes, Zane muttered, “We’ve stretched our luck enough for one day. We need to land. Got anything yet?”

  “Fifteen degrees to starboard,” Karm responded. “Wide-open area, almost like salt flats, twenty kilometers distant. Looks good and solid.”

  “Anything looks good at this point,” Zane replied pointedly.

  A minute later the vis-screen showed a white glare that outlined their landing site. Coaxing her down, Zane grounded the ship, his eyes centered on his board, his hands never leaving his controls as the Queen settled her full weight on her main landing struts.

  Satisfied that his craft was on solid ground, Zane ordered, “Power down sequence.”

  He and Karm ran quick fingers over their respective consoles and then Zane announced over the intercom, “Secure from off-planet stations. Begin on-planet protocol. Damage control parties report status to the bridge on the double.”

  Zane rose from his seat, saying to Bianca, “The port side took a real beating. I’ll take O’Donnell out with me for a close-up inspection.

  “We're several hundred kilometers short of our intended landing site. Sorry, either I landed her or we all sprouted wings and flapped down that last kilometer.”

  Bianca gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. “The right decision and a great piece of flying, Zane, we’ll just alter our, uh, operations to accommodate.”

  Bianca spoke to Dason in crisp tones. “Get your team moving aft to main cargo.”

  Dason rose from his grav-seat and gathered up his teammates. For a second, he stared at the vis-screen that shown a dusky alien landscape of tans, reds, and dark yellow striations that painted distant parapet-looking rock formations.

  He shook his head in bemusement and a feeling of discouragement pressed on him. They had made it to the stars, but not as exploring Star Scouts.

  Instead, they were hostages of renegades. Not exactly what he or his teammates had pictured when they left IS Grolson back on Alistar.

  Minutes later, Dason and his team trooped into the ship’s main hold. Dason’s eyes widened when he caught sight of six planetary survey craft lined up in the cargo bay.

  “Hey,” Sami quipped while waving a hand at the closest ship. “This looks like the one I plowed into old man Klotz’s greenhouse on my first solo.”

  “In that case,” Bianca commented from behind, “we’ll make sure that you don’t lay your hands on the pilot controls.”

  Dason couldn’t help but smile at her snide comment. “Your team trained in these models?” Bianca asked him.

  Dason nodded and noted, “Close enough. These look like the SC28s or 29 series—we did most of our flying in newer SSLC30s.”

  Bianca waved a hand toward the craft. “We picked these up cheap as surplus. They were such a good deal that we didn’t even try to steal'em.”

  She smile slightly. “They add a little sting to my ship so we call’em Stingers or S-ships.”

  Her eyes and voice were stern as she addressed them. “You’re going to help with preflight. And before you go thinking about sabotage, remember, you’re on the flight crew, so I’d think real hard before doing something stupid.”

  The poacher boss thrust a finger at Nase and Shanon. “You two handle the Stinger One craft. You,” she directed to TJ, “Stinger Two.”

  She turned to Sami. “Since we want to keep you away from anything to do with flying these crates, check all the hygiene systems, especially the latrines. Ensure the catch tanks are flushed, drained, and sanitized before liftoff, which is in an hour.”

  “Wait,” Sami sputtered. “I qualified. It wasn’t my fault that the stabilizers cut out. Ask them, they’ll tell you.”

  Bianca hooked a thumb toward the craft. “Latrines.”

  Passing Dason, Sami grumbled, “The things I do to save your hide. You owe me, Thorne.”

  Bianca jabbed a finger toward Dason. “Stinger Three. All the preflight maintenance and ballistic checks are complete. Inventory the life support and onboard stores.”

  Dason trotted over to Stinger Three and looked the little ship over. He wasn’t that surprised that the poachers were able to purchase these. Outdated vessels always went to surplus sales and on the cheap, too.

  Used not only by Star Scouts but by prospectors and planetary surveyors, scouters were tough little craft. Capable of interstellar, atmospheric, and underwater flight, a tough sylcron shell covered the entire ship.

  A see-through layer for both pilots and passengers made up the vessel’s first third. Beyond that was a three-meter-wide titanium strip, hardened with carbon nanofibers, that cross-sectioned the craft and held the main hatch with its airlock on the starboard side.

  The sealed aft section held both the Hartbeld Star Drive and the Jonson nucleonic engines. Although the vessel could do hyper light speed, it wasn’t all that fast and was not the vessel of choice for long-haul star flights.

  Star Scout Command had bigger and faster ships for that. But for planetary missions or operations within a planetary system, it was just the ticket.

  The little ship had two levels. The main deck held the pilot’s pod in the nose with a troop bay just behind the command compartment. The rear section held a service area with food prep, hygiene cubicle, medical stores, and science station.

  The cramped lower level contained additional supplies, life support equipment, and a rudimentary repair station.

  Typical Star Scout missions saw two craft assigned to a team of five. For a home away from home it was austere. But as a flying base from which scouts, or in this case poachers could operate, the ship was tough, easy to handle, and proved its worth many times on countless worlds.

  Entering the v
essel, Dason headed for the service area to begin his assignment. Not quite an hour later, he stored the last of his items and hurried to join his teammates in a small circle of outlaws.

  Bianca stood on a small plas-container and began. “Because we landed short of our primary landing site, we’re going to alter the plan.” She tapped her handheld compu and a large mosaic of the planet’s surface projected into the air.

  She gestured toward a dark, broad line of mountainous terrain that snaked through the middle of numerous tans and reds indicating more level ground.

  “We’ll head to this chain of volcanoes. They’re three hundred kilometers out and planetary north from the Queen.”

  On the image, Dason could distinguish the familiar cone-shaped outline of a number of volcanoes that ran along the equivalent of this planet’s east-to-west axis.

  “South” of the volcanoes began a series of what appeared to be large finger lakes, but Dason was quite sure that this planet didn’t have liquid water such as found on Terra.

  Bianca expanded the volcanoes’ image so that they peered down into their craters. Wisps of gray-black smoke rose from several of the cones.

  “Unlike our original destination, these appear to have some seismic activity. There’s little chance of an eruption, but the possibility of ground movement, slides, and falling rocks is very real.

  “Stay away from the numerous fumaroles along the flanks; their escaping gas is pressurized and scalding hot. It’s possible that these volcanoes have quartzite deposits, but the seismic activity makes it a bit more challenging.

  “Stygar Six’s atmospheric pressure is rated at three hundred millibars.” She looked straight at Sami. “That’s about one-third of Terra’s atmosphere at sea level.”

  Sami muttered under his breath, “I know what a millibar is, I used to go dancin’ in one every Saturday night.”

  Bianca ignored the snickers from the crowd and continued. “Oxygen content is less than one percent, with the remaining atmosphere composed of trioxide, ammonia, and sulfuric gasses.

  “In other words, it’s flex-suit country. Once we upload, everyone suits up and stays suited until we return.

  “Scan your suit. Make sure there aren’t any microscopic tears that might blow out under pressure.” She shrugged and remarked, “It’s your skin.”

  Seeing that she had everyone’s attention, she went on. “Planetary gravity is six percent higher than Terra, so you’ll have to exert a bit more effort in your work. Watch your food and water intake to compensate for the extra labor. No solo work outside, pair up in buddy teams.”

  Shanon, standing next to Dason, leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Sounds almost like a mission out-brief, doesn’t it?”

  Dason nodded in reply. He had to admit; Bianca’s briefing was much more detailed and precise than what he had expected from the outlaw leader. Bianca was very much in command of this renegade group and handled them in a crisp, efficient manner.

  “One last thing,” Bianca remarked. “Since this will be a short hop, we’ll let our guests pilot us, to see how well our education tax dollars are paying off.”

  Several poachers guffawed out loud.

  “We’ll take four craft,” she went on. “Jy and I will be in Stinger Three. Granger and Shelby in Stinger One, Josh and Lara in two, and Tam along with Hanjeh in Stinger Four.”

  She spoke to the novices. “You two,” pointing at Dason and Sami, “are with me.” She assigned Shanon to the number four vessel, TJ to craft two, and Nase to Stinger One.

  “Up-ship in ten minutes,” she ordered and strode over to meet Zane, who stood near the far hatch. Dason watched the two put their heads together.

  Though he couldn’t hear their words, it wasn’t hard to see their worried, almost anxious looks. It didn’t take much guessing on Dason’s part to figure out the conversation’s topic.

  Zane had been outside inspecting the damage to the ship. From their expressions, Dason surmised that the damage was severe, maybe bad enough that the Queen couldn’t power off the planet.

  Dason considered this possible new development. If they couldn’t boost out, the outlaws would have to call for help.

  Renegades didn’t have support organizations, so that meant that if they sent out a distress call, most likely either a ship from the Imperium’s Navy or Star Scouts would respond to their hail.

  One look at the Queen’s cargo holds by either of those would-be rescuers, and these characters would wind up in the ship’s brig. He liked the sound of that idea. He would alert his team, start making plans for their own escape if the authorities showed up.

  He winced as another thought hit him. If indeed The Queen Bee couldn’t lift off planet, then there would be no reaching a medical facility in time for him. And that meant that very soon the poison inhibitor would wear off and he would . . .

  Dason shook his head. It wouldn’t do any good to stew over that particular thought. He would deal with each situation as it arose.

  Bianca had a last parting word to Zane and with brisk steps walked toward Dason and Sami. She cocked her head toward the ship. “Let’s go.”

  Once inside the scouter, Bianca turned to Dason. “You’ll pilot us out.” With a faint smile, she said to Sami, “If you behave, I might let you bring us home.”

  Sami scowled but remained silent. Bianca reached behind her, turned, and tossed each a communicator set. “Wire up and make it snappy. I don’t want to be tail-end Charlie.”

  She laughed at their surprised expressions. “What’s the matter? Did you think that Star Scouts were the only ones to use personal comm-links?

  “Think again. We use them on every, shall we say, transaction.”

  Dason understood the poacher’s preference for the small comm devices; after all, everyone from the Space Marines to asteroid miners to OutLand colonists used them.

  Dason and Sami exchanged glances and then with practiced hands applied skin glue to their cheeks, set their microphones in place and inserted ear receivers.

  When they were finished with their comms setup Bianca ordered, “Suit up.”

  The four spread out and with quick motions donned flex-suits. Dason and Sami were well versed in using the suits.

  Intensive training excursions to Luna, learning how to be human flies on the rocky rim rock walls of craters or racing across the tranquil dust-seas of earth’s moon had taught them the intricacies of the simple but rugged suits.

  They ran the prescribed pressure checks to ensure their suits were airtight and nodded to Bianca that they were ready.

  At a gesture from Bianca, Dason slid into the pilot’s seat and flipped back his helmet. Bianca eased herself into the copilot’s chair, pushed her helmet back and ordered, “Power up.”

  Nodding, Dason ran his fingers over the controls and brought the little vessel to life.

  Bianca was quick with her instructions to Dason. “We’re the command ship, so you’ll be talking to the bridge and the other craft. Once airborne, use the Queen as your reference point.

  “Set a course of sixteen degrees, speed of two hundred knots, and altitude at three hundred meters.”

  “Got it,” Dason replied. Reaching over to the console, he clicked open the craft’s comm-link. “Stinger craft one, two, and four,” he intoned. “This is Three, report your flight status.”

  “Stinger One is a go,” answered Nase.

  “Stinger Two, we’re ready,” TJ stated.

  “Stinger Four has a green board,” responded Shanon.

  “Bridge,” Dason reported, “this is Stinger Three; all craft are ready for ship egress.”

  “Roger,” a voice replied. “Stand by for hold decompression and atmospheric match.”

  Several seconds ticked by until the ship’s exchange and filtration system sucked the earthlike atmosphere out and replaced it with Stygar Six’s thin and hazy air.

  “Stinger Three, this is the bridge, atmospheric exchange complete. Hold doors opening. You are clear for liftoff
.”

  “Hold doors opening,” Dason affirmed. The large cargo doors arched open to reveal a velvety purple sky. Even through the glare of the giant red sun that rode high in the firmament, a few of the brighter neighboring stars twinkled against the dark backdrop.

  With deft fingers on the controls, Dason raised his ship through the overhead doors and set course over the barren landscape toward the distant mountains. From the blips on his inboard radar, Dason could tell that the other ships had lifted from the Queen and now followed.

  Bianca ran her eyes over the command board, checked several control settings and satisfied with what she found, gave Dason a nod, rose and went aft.

  Soon after the four scouters left the mother ship, Dason glanced at his radar screen. In a neat row, the other craft lined up behind his vessel.

  He was about to turn away from his board when he caught sight of two blips rising from the Queen’s position and heading away almost in the opposite direction.

  Puzzled, he watched the tiny spots shoot across the screen at a high rate of speed. Without question, the two ships that had remained behind were going somewhere in a hurry!

  He shook his head in puzzlement. Bianca hadn’t mentioned those two outbound craft in her briefing.

  At the sound of Bianca reentering the pilot pod, Dason started to ask about the other vessels when Bianca remarked, “Activate your topo display. Time to lay out your flight parameters.”

  Dason nodded and pressed the control that brought up the topographic map.

  Scanning the multidimensional display, which charted out his current path over prominent terrain features, Dason could tell that Stygar Six was not a flat, featureless planet.

  Instead, steep cliffs, sharp valleys, and canyons, some deep, some shallow, twisted across the barren landscape. A multitude of impact craters ranging from pea size to a kilometer or more pockmarked the terrain.

  Over the eons, the gravitational pull had brought many of the orbiting asteroids to the surface in fiery dives. Some had burrowed deep into the planet’s crust, leaving little more than a dark cavity as their death marker.

  Several giant craters had vast debris swaths, with plume like sprays of ash, rock, and boulders extending tens of kilometers from their rims.