Cadet: Star Defenders Book Two: Space Opera Adventure

by Pamela Stewart

I slid on the white suit. Of course, it was two inches too long in the legs and pooched out in all the wrong places. My sleeves and chest decoration area were bare, the mark of a green recruit. Eventually, I could get stars and moons to denote my rank, but currently, I was nothing. Less than nothing.

  I pulled my hair into a military-approved ponytail and entered the head to wash my face and chew a tooth cleaning tablet. I swung the door open and reached into the cabinet. My hand was mid-reach when the alarms blared from the cockpit.

  Dropping the tablet, I ran the few steps to the front. The shuttle jerked, heaving hard to the side. I stumbled and flew three feet forward. My head connected with the seats behind the pilot and copilot, and my ears buzzed. Flashes of light blinked behind my closed lids.

  “Crap,” I grunted. “What’s happening?”

  “They’re targeting us.” Amelie’s voice revealed more curiosity than concern.

  I forced one eye open. The part of my head that had impacted with the seat throbbed mercilessly. Red light bathed the console. My breath caught, and I tried to figure out the location of the danger. Ethan’s hands moved over the controls like a musical instrument.

  “Tell them it’s us!” I yelled over the increased sound of alarms.

  “I did, V. They’re not responding.” Dax straightened, all ease drained from his stance, and he pushed a hand through his thick sandy hair. His seat rotated to the com station. He tapped code into the device, repeating the same pattern with our call sign.

  Blips of light appeared on our nav screen, showing small ships approaching at a breakneck speed.

  I frantically looked out the front screen and saw the fighters in the visual. They were Ax-Strykers, the fastest, most deadly ships in the fleet. Compact, with smooth lines and a titanium black exterior, they were the definition of a scary, sexy machine.

  Their laser sights set on us.

  “Do something!” I grabbed Ethan’s shoulder and dug in with my fingers. His flesh was hard and warm under his uniform, and I dropped my hand as if scalded. His eyes flashed down to where I’d touched him then back to me.

  “What do you want me to do, Vega? Stand on the top of the shuttle and wave a white flag? They should know this shuttle came from the Lazarus. I don’t know why they’re targeting us.” His attention went back to flying, his body wound tight and his knuckles white on the controls.

  My blood pushed hard in my veins, pounding behind my eardrums in time with the screaming alarm.

  I almost retorted, but an idea hit me. “Dax, try a different message. We come in peace. Offer them guzzle bits for sale.”

  “Stellar.” Dax slid a hand over the wav transmitter.

  The coms unit bleated a high-pitched squeal. We all covered our ears.

  “Blocked. All stations. Nothing is getting through.” He swallowed hard enough for me to see his Adam’s apple dip, but that was his only sign of stress.

  I had to find a way to keep them from killing us. “Amelie, come with me.” I scrambled toward the back.

  “What are you going to do?” Ethan asked.

  “Something.” I pulled Amelie to the rear of the shuttle. “Ethan, stop the shuttle. I want to send a message.”

  “But the channel is blocked, V,” Dax shouted.

  “Just stop the shuttle.”

  At the very back of the rectangular hold was the restroom cubicle, and next to that was the airlock. Two spacesuits hung by the door. I jumped into one of the dust-encrusted suits and had Amelie assist me with the tether lines.

  “What are you doing? Why are you going out there? They’ll shoot you.” She spoke so fast that her words jumbled.

  I clicked down the helmet and turned on life support, double-checking the levels.

  “Just watch me and monitor my vitals. Pull me in when I signal you but not before. Got it?”

  Amelie’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. I snatched one of the towels from the floor and used a marking device to emblazon an image on it in bold black ink—a circle with a Y in the center—and I stepped into the airlock.

  The slurping sound of the door sent a pang through me. What if they couldn’t see me or my sign? I couldn’t think of that.

  No time for doubt.

  My suit pressurized, and the air whooshed out of the chamber as the sliding door opened. I sucked in a breath, as if that would help, in case my O2 didn’t work.

  The shuttle slowed to a crawl, but the stars still moved in the distance.

  Not stars but ships streaked by. With shaky hands, I gripped the edge of the frame double checking my connection cables.

  Why didn’t I ever think things through?

  Because you wouldn’t do them if you did.

  Chapter Two

  Ethan

  What the hell had Vega done now? I couldn’t see her. The sensors didn’t pick her up. She had no idea how to do a proper spacewalk, yet she had opened the airlock before I’d figured out what she was doing and already thrown herself outside.

  Brave, stupid, infuriating.

  “Hold her steady,” I shouted.

  Dax took the controls with his breathing jacked. I leaped through the curtain and back to the rear cargo entrance. I found Amelie staring at the wall next to the door and glared at her.

  “Why would you let her go outside?” I yelled. “She’ll either be shot by the patrol or get caught in the wake of the engine.”

  Amelie’s enormous eyes grew wide, dilating. Surprise registered then shifted quickly to annoyance. Her brows drew together, and she planted her hands on her hips. “She’s trying to stop them from attacking.”

  “How? By giving them another target?” I could usually keep my expression calm and pleasant, but it wasn’t natural for me. My lips pressed together, and my jaw clenched. They had taught me how to compartmentalize in the Academy’s Phantom Ops training, but since the Lazarus, since meeting Vega, my training had been severely tested.

  With a head tilt, Amelie gestured to the vid display. My heart stuttered. Vega spiraled through space, grasping a thin line in one hand and something in the other.

  “Is she holding a dirty towel with a V on it? Is she trying to tell them her name?”

  “It’s a peace sign,” Amelie said. “Vega wanted to try and signal them. Just go and see what the patrol is doing. I’ll watch her.” She touched a panel which displayed Vega’s vitals and increased the oxygen supply.

  I shook my head. I’d never met anyone like Vega...or Amelie and Dax for that matter. But part of me enjoyed their company, their fire, their desire to do the right thing.

  Snorting, I raced back to the cockpit. Those fighters could destroy us in a microsecond. Maybe Vega’s plan had slowed them down, or at least her antics had stunned them into pausing.

  Dax held the controls with ramrod-straight arms. His eyes fixed on the horizon even though we had stopped moving. He didn’t usually show his feelings. Mostly he hid behind a cloak of calm, but with my training, I had figured him out early.

  I slid into the pilot seat and checked the monitors.

  Guns locked, but they hadn’t destroyed us yet.

  My eyes flicked down to the coms, and I noticed the code stuck on internal transmission, which meant it only worked for non-coded calls. I twisted the knob and typed in the standard peace message. The com speaker came to life.

  “...final warning. Identify yourself or be disintegrated.”

  Swallowing, I opened a channel. “Shuttle Icarus hailing from the Lazarus.”

  Silence. Then—more silence. Dax froze in position. I did too.

  Amelie shouted from the rear. “What’s happening? Can I bring her in now?”

  “Shhhh!”

  As if I couldn’t hear the coms or the buzzing alarms. After everything, this couldn’t be it. They wouldn’t just blast us.

  Would they?

  “Who is your commanding officer?”

  A loaded question.

  If I answered Price, and they knew of the mutiny, we’d be in danger. If I answered
Wu, they might doubt my validity as she was second in command and had an interesting past with the brass.

  “I’m Junior Lieutenant Ethan James, reporting to Lieutenant Commander Gleason.”

  More silence. The station shifted slightly, ever in motion, lights flowing like water spilling over the structure as people lived their lives, oblivious to our plight.

  Dax stared at me, open-mouthed. “You’re already a lieutenant?” His tone cut me. Worse than Vega’s constant jibes, which hurt me in a very different way. He hadn’t known that I’d finished the academy two years ago and had my commission. I wasn’t a cadet or a conscript like him.

  I was a spy. I kept secrets out of necessity...and habit.

  He and I had been friends. Real friends. Especially over the last few weeks, sharing the second shift flying this boat, playing cards, making dumb jokes. This was the first time he’d looked truly betrayed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmm.” Dax leaned back in his seat and kept his gaze fixed on the Stryker fighter.

  “Junior Lieutenant James, please provide verification code.”

  I typed in my 16-digit ID code, struggling to stay calm and collected. My breathing tried to stall, but I forced myself to suck in air, hold it, then release. I allowed a bit of an old folk song to trickle into my consciousness and hummed along. Tension seeped out of me. It was always that way with me and music.

  Seconds passed. Every heartbeat, every breath, took an eternity until the com beeped again.

  “Confirmed.”

  The alarms stopped sounding. Dax and I exhaled and slumped forward as one.

  “Nice job, Ethan.”

  “Thanks.” I waited for the ships to continue their communication, but there was another long pause.

  “What’s happening!” Amelie yelled.

  “We’re clear.” Dax half rose from his seat.

  The coms sputtered back on, halting him.

  “Junior Lieutenant James, can you explain why you are towing human-shaped cargo?”

  I rolled my eyes and felt like saying no but answered. “Would like to debrief station-side.”

  “Affirmative. Please reclaim your cargo. We will escort you to Landing Bay 1771.”

  The old juice started flowing. Back home. Well, to home base anyway.

  “Can you tell Amelie to bring Vega in?” I prepped to fire the engine and adjusted the rudders to Bay 1771.

  “No need. Am’s already on it.” Dax finally relaxed into his easy smile and pulled one of our last ration protein sticks from his pocket. Dry, tasteless things, but you could survive on them. He offered me one, and I waved him off.

  With a loud sucking noise and a jostle of the shuttle, I felt someone approach from behind. The smell of exhaust hydrocarbons wafted in my direction.

  I shifted slightly to catch a glimpse of Vega. Her long jet-colored hair had fallen out of its ponytail to wrap around her shoulders and frame her angular face. Eyes bright and blue and wild, she leaned in and looked at the com. I picked up the sweet smell of her honey and jasmine-scented hair under the stench of the spacesuit.

  “So, we’re good?” She questioned Dax, but I answered.

  “Yeah, I gave them my code. We had the station coms set wrong.” I didn’t want Dax to shoulder the blame. I should’ve double-checked it.

  She snorted and swung around to face me, eyes blazing like the Blue Stones of Ealish. “Why couldn’t you give it to them before I risked my neck on a spacewalk?”

  “Hey! You were the one who decided to do that without consulting anyone.”

  “Well, you weren’t doing anything,”

  “You didn’t give me—”

  The comlink beeped. I pressed my lips closed. My face pulsed with a flash of hot blood, and I fought to regain my composure. No one, and I mean no one, got me angrier faster than Vega. Something about her cut past my defenses.

  Strong-minded, infuriating, distractingly pretty.

  But that didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Vega had zero interest in me. Not anymore.

  “Shuttle Icarus.” The com broke my train of thought, which needed breaking. “Follow us at 107.5 at my mark. We will send coordinates to your nav computer.”

  “Affirmative.” I tapped in the code. I wouldn’t have to navigate the needle. The algorithm would time our approach perfectly.

  Vega stepped back and dropped into the seat, the sound of her harsh breathing filling the cabin.

  The silence dragged on for a few minutes. No one wanted to step in between us or make any added comments. Everyone settled into their usual seat while I piloted in formation with the two Stryker fighters. Dax was in the co-pilot seat again, not laying back relaxed as was his typical pose, but leaning up, soaking in the Axis proper.

  It was a monster and a marvel, a hell and a haven. And in the end, it was home. The only home I’d ever known. A lump rose in my throat that I swallowed down. No matter what had happened to me there, the sight triggered something deep inside.

  “The Axis rotates at approximately 1,000 miles per hour and orbits Sol at 67,000 miles an hour. To add to that, each station rotates to glean energy for its inhabitants.” Amelie was both the smartest and least aware person I’d ever met, but I liked her. Her random information made me contemplate things I had never thought of or considered.

  “It doesn’t look that fast.” Dax squinted.

  “We’re still too far away,” she said without a hint of doubt in her voice.

  When she said something, I was pretty sure she had multiple sources. I’d have doubted the nav computer before I doubted Amelie.

  She sniffed, leaning up between us to make eye contact, and smiled. “At this angle, and without the proper sequence code, we’d be crushed.”

  She sounded a bit too excited by that, like being crushed would be a new and exciting experience she could analyze. I stopped myself from telling her it was impossible to study if she was dead.

  “We have the code, right, Ethan?” Unflappable Dax cut me a side glance that said, Are we good?

  I dipped my chin. “My code should get us in. No problem.”

  “Should?” Vega’s belittling tone set me on edge again, and I twisted in my seat.

  “It will. And it will work better than scribbled messages and suicidal spacewalks.” There. That did it.

  Vega’s eyes shifted away, and she exhaled hard as if from a physical blow. I instantly wanted to take back my words. I didn’t want to cause her pain, but my instincts told me to defend myself. Years of living where I had, with the sub-human Hub bogans I’d grown up with, had hardened my defenses.

  The shuttle tore through space again at its maximum speed. I opened the engine to full. We were so close now that fuel conservation didn’t matter. Our escort easily kept pace, using less than a quarter of their top speed to flank us. It would be nice to get back into the cockpit of a Stryker again. I halted my train of thought.

  Reassignment was possible since I’d failed in my mission. I had to face the consequences. Worry wormed into my brain and gnawed at my nerves. I choked up on the controls and squeezed every iota of power from the engine. Better to face hard things than put them off.

  The Mil-station approached. I shifted to autopilot but kept a soft hand on the control.

  Dax pulled his shoulder straps on. Amelie copied him, muttering something about centrifugal force and artificial grav. If the Science Division didn’t scoop her up, they’d be insane.

  “If it’s on auto, why are you holding the wheel?” Vega had recovered and was ready to go another round.

  I slipped my shoulders out of the restraint to look behind me. “Look if you want to fly—"

  The ship careened into its first turn. I tumbled headfirst out of my seat and landed at Amelie’s feet.

  Vega fell directly next to me. I tried to push up and return to my seat, in case anything went wrong with the autopilot.

  Another sharp slant, and the ship dipped. Our bodies lifted as the ship spun.

  We t
umbled past Amelie and into the sleeping area in the aft of the shuttle.

  After a few days of the walls grabbing at us every few minutes, we’d turned off the auto safety feature that caught any loose object and secured it.

  Not the best decision.

  I swiveled and pulled Vega close to absorb the impact. We both huffed out air as we slammed onto one of the mattresses. I had my arms around her, and we lay face-to-face. Her heart thundered against me so hard it echoed in my chest.

  The shuttle lurched to a stop. Vega and I skidded forward and crashed into the back wall. I shifted to take the brunt of the steel supports. Pain radiated through me, and I grunted.

  Panting, I placed my head down and closed my eyes. We hadn’t died. Again.

  I must have held on a bit too long, enjoying being alive.

  Vega punched me hard in the shoulder and jerked away. Leaping to her feet, she spun on me and pointed. “You didn’t have to grab me. I would’ve been fine.”

  My legs wobbled as I jumped up, but I kept my feet. “I’m tempted to show you all the bruises on my back.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m not helpless. I can’t wait to get off of this boat. I hope I never see you again.”

  There it was. I’d hoped for some cooling of Vega’s emotions, some middle ground, some understanding. But she was closed to it. Her body language shouted dismissal. Amelie and Dax remained in their seats, eyes forward, waiting for the Ethan-Vega storm to pass.

  I wanted to lash out. I kicked at the pile of dirty laundry to expel some of my anger. Gleason had told me to redirect my temper, and usually, it worked.

  I boxed. I ran. I exercised. Anything to keep the anger from boiling over. But it was hard with Vega.

  “I was just doing my job.”

  She took a step up so that less than an inch of space remained between us. “I can’t be friends with a liar.”

  The door pinged. It shouldn’t have opened without our express coded authorization, but still, the rear cargo ramp lowered, allowing the plume of smoke from the shuttle to roll into the bay. Three officers marched forward.

  Only High Command had the code to override the controls of military vehicles.

  Three officers, all dressed in their whites, two women and one man. Two appeared to be the escort of the third whose bars and stripes indicated she was a lieutenant commander. The others were only ensign level.