Joe Devlin: And the Renegades’ Toil (Space Academy Series Book 5)

by James Thomas

  But before Sadar could answer, two Grax fighters passed close to the nose of their vessel.

  “You think they detected us when we came out?” asked Sadar.

  “Hard to say, but I don’t think they would fly in front of us if they did,” said Joe. “Most likely on random patrol.”

  Sadar maneuvered their ship behind the two Grax fighters, which were now on a track toward Huldra. Nothing showed that the Grax had spotted them. After 30 micro-cycles, the fighters turned away from the planet and back toward a parallel path around it.

  “Stay on course,” said Joe.

  “Seems like the logical choice since we have to descend through Huldra’s atmosphere,” replied Sadar.

  Robert could be heard moving in the ropes.

  “We could untie you if you gave us your word not to try to escape, and maybe help us,” said Sadar. “You will know Joe is not a traitor when you see why we’re here.”

  Robert did not reply.

  “You know, Sadar,” said Joe with a hint of exasperation, “could we skip the usage of that word?”

  Robert was becoming distressed from seeing the Grax so close. It was the first time he had ever seen an enemy of any sort and now he was in one of their ships. As far as he knew, they were also in league with the Grax. It seemed reasonable since they had commandeered an enemy ship and were in Grax territory. No wonder the ISF had issued an arrest warrant. He had to get untied so he could stop them. He was also curious about why a Tourian enemy declared Joe was not a traitor. That, in Robert’s mind, was proof enough to his guilt.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking,” said Robert.

  “You mean after seeing the Grax,” replied Joe.

  “That was them, right?” asked Robert.

  “Well, it’s not the ISF. Let me see, that leaves the Tourian or the Grax,” said Joe sarcastically.

  “Yes,” answered Sadar, “The latter.”

  “Maybe it would be better to untie me so I could help,” suggested Robert.

  “We can’t trust him,” whispered Joe.

  “We don’t have a choice,” replied Sadar.

  As soon as Joe stood to untie Robert, he was knocked to the ground. The collision alarm was blaring, while smoke started to fill the cabin.

  “Sadar, what happened?” yelled Joe over the noise of the alarms.

  Smoke was already filling the upper half of the cabin. Robert was coughing, trying to breathe fresh air.

  “We’ve been hit,” replied Sadar.

  “With what?” asked Joe.

  “Another ship. I think one of the fighters, but I’m having a hard time seeing the sensor panels through the smoke.

  “One! What about the other fighter?” asked Joe.

  Robert’s coughing had stopped, and he was leaning in his ropes that had come loose.

  Joe grabbed the rope and tugged at it. The ropes moved slightly. Robert was still breathing but his breath was shallow.

  With a loud boom, cannon fire hit their ship, but it differed from the first. The shield alarms sounded.

  “That was laser fire to our rear shields,” said Sadar.

  Joe pulled his pocket knife out and cut the ropes from around Robert. Robert’s body fell on top of Joe and then rolled to his side.

  Robert started to cough, breathing in the cleaner air from the floor.

  Joe was not sure of what to do with the smoke getting thicker by the moment.

  Then, in an instant, smoke disappeared.

  “That did it,” said Sadar. “Our primary life support is down, but secondary is working. Sucked the smoke right out, but that might leave a trail behind our ship.”

  “What caused the collision alarm?” asked Joe.

  “Looks like the Grax fighters turned back and collided with us, though the impact disabled one of their fighters. The wingman appears to have taken the shot at us,” said Sadar.

  Robert rolled over and pushed himself off the floor and back to his knees. Another laser hit, followed by several more in secession, knocking him back down.

  “We need to maneuver. Is the cloak still up?” asked Joe.

  “Yes, but I think each hit is weakening the cloak, partially showing the ship’s outline. The wingman is probing to see who we are,” said Sadar.

  Sadar turned the ship’s track to the right before paralleling back to its former track toward Huldra. The wingman ship stayed on course, with his partner’s vessel out of sight.

  Robert managed to sit on the floor, looking more like a kid than an adult. “You kids aren’t kidding around—are you? Those Grax you are talking about, are they trying to take us out?” asked Robert.

  “Not rea . . .,” said Joe before he realized the opportunity in front of him. The Grax knew a ship was out there, but they were not exactly sure of who or what. Joe needed Robert to think the worse to get him to help. “Yes, they’re trying to shoot us, but due to the cloak, they are having a hard time.”

  “And what happens if they hit us again?” asked Robert in a crackling voice. The stress was building up in his speech.

  “Well, we suck vacuum!” responded Sadar as he caught on to what Joe was trying. “Joe, you need to put on your vac-suit in case.”

  “Yes, you too,” replied Joe.

  “What about me,” asked Robert.

  “We don’t have one for people who don’t want to help us,” said Sadar. “Besides, we won’t have to launch you, saving us on the moral decision.” Now Sadar was also playing cruel, but it was just a ploy.

  Robert’s face turned off-white. He had never been in space before. Plus, he was new to the police force and literally over his head and out to Space.

  “Okay,” answered Robert.

  “Okay what?” asked Joe forcing him to commit.

  “You’re not giving me much of a choice,” replied Robert, panicking with his decision. “Okay, I’ll help, but once we are done, the deal is done. Plus, you need to return me to Bandor,” asserted Robert. “Agreed?”

  “How do I know your word is good?” demanded Joe.

  “Well, you called it before . . . I admit, I’m a rookie, so my word is good.” Robert sounded flustered. Clearing his throat, he added, “I mean, I’m giving you my word as an officer of the law. I haven’t been corrupted by those senior pastry-eating officers.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” replied Sadar. He looked at Joe to see if he could trust a police officer too. Sadar may have been asking too much.

  “Fine! Agreed!’ replied Joe. “I don’t like the vacuum part anyway. Even that’s too much for me.”

  “Much better,” said Augie to Joe internally. “I see that you’re okay after all.”

  “So, what do I need to help with?” asked Robert.

  “Well, if you heard what we said earlier, then you know we have to rescue Sadar’s people . . . I mean our people.”

  Sadar looked at Joe and smiled, but Robert looked puzzled.

  13

  HIDDEN

  The capital city lay empty of all signs of life. No Tourians. Not even a single stray pet had been left behind to roam the streets. All the spaceports were bare of ships. The local markets and stores were filled with rotted and dried up food. Due to decay, the foods now lay colorless in their bins and on the shelves. A thick layer of dust coated the neatly-arranged merchandise, as if to protect it from their surroundings.

  The Grax had been complete in removing the Tourians from their homeland but showed no interest in collecting food or belongings from the city for their upkeep. As slaves in the mines, the Tourians would have to fight for the meager rations of food or clothing provided by the Grax.

  Ensign Brock’s thoughts wrapped his mind in a blanketing warmth, partially distracting himself as he walked up the path toward the ridgeline. The soil along his path comprised of equal amounts of clay, silt, and sand, lacking any moisture.

  Tripping clumsily over a small stone bought Brock’s attention to a rag on the ground. He leaned over and picked it up, but it was more than a
rag. It was a crude doll left hastily behind, belonging to some Tourian child, now presumed a slave. Ahead lay countless items discarded for as far as he could see. Personal belongings could always be replaced. These seemed to be left behind instead of their lives, more than a fair trade.

  Brock forced himself back to the task at hand. He steadied his step, trying not to twist an ankle or trip again on the items. The senseless sight made him drift into and out of a daze as he tried to focus. He was living history. His life had been forever changed when Joe had unlocked the Tourian history, merging it with the Bandorians’.

  It was no longer the Tourians’ past. It was now also his, merging back with his ancestors. For Brock, it was a life-altering undertaking to save their lost kinfolk. Word was spreading, and it was now up to them to show the Bandorians proof. What that proof would be, Brock was not sure!

  “Well, where are these assets the Boy God promised?” asked Mac. “My legs are starting to kill me. I’m not so young anymore.”

  The crew was broken into two long columns that moved against the suns, leading out of the city and up into the surrounding hills. It was a fast-paced march and very grueling upon their bodies from the start.

  Brock smirked at Mac’s complaining, but his own legs were already hurting from the fast pace, so he knew Mac was tough for an old fart.

  “Anyone been listening to me?” asked Mac.

  “What!” said Don mockingly. “Thought you were just complaining, as usual. The Ensign knows the location.”

  “Yeah—yeah! That Ensign knows everything,” replied Mac.

  “Why don’t you cut him a little slack,” asked Don. “Remember, I knew you as an Ensign once. I’m pretty sure you thought you knew everything, too. But in this case, Ensign Brock is the reason we are here. He knows what’s happening.”

  “Yeah—yeah, you’re right. But it doesn’t make it easier. Going from Captain to Second Mate, and now an Ensign is leading me to I don’t know what,” complained Mac.

  “Joe trusts him,” said Don. “That’s all I need, and you trust me.”

  “Yes,” replied Mac. “That’s why I put up with you after all these years. Probably the same reason you put up with me.”

  Don smiled in response.

  Ensign Brock!” said Commander Devlin in a commanding voice.

  “Yes, Commander,” answered Ensign Brock.

  “We don’t have much time before the ISF figures out what we are up to,” said Command Devlin. “Are we near the spot? Mac seems to be getting older as we march. Can’t have him dying before we get there. At least not from cannon fire.”

  Ensign Brock held up a scanner facing the path forward and studied its readings. “Commander, it should be just over that ridge.”

  Four overwatch Star Fighters flew above the city. It seemed that ISF was taking no chances as they waited to verify the mission orders. Time was running out, but their group had no choice but to walk to the site exposed along the road. If the Star Fighters use the scanners or turn away from the city, they would be easily seen. Only a few trees with some foliage provided cover, though it became denser as they neared the ridgeline.

  Their freighter with a small crew remained in orbit while two shuttles ferried the rest of the crew to the planet. Each shuttle had one pilot and four cargo handlers, in order to trick the ISF that they were ferrying cargo from the city to the freighter. This unplanned diversion stretched the pilots even thinner.

  The shuttles would land and then carry empty cargo boxes into the nearby Tourian building when the ISF fighters were close enough to see. Next, they would sneak the same crates back into the shuttles, which would take off and head to the freighter as the another shuttle landed. This would be repeated in hopes that the ISF would not catch on or find out that the orders were falsified. The crews would then do their best to make it back to the freighter and then meet at the rendezvous point.

  Mac didn’t want to seem dependent on a youngster, but he needed to ask Brock a few questions. “Ensign, how many Tourians are there to rescue?”

  “Not sure exactly!” replied Ensign Brock.

  Don gave Mac a look of caution, but Brock continued before Mac could say anything else.

  “Well . . . I mean, Sadar said it would be enough,” added Ensign Brock.

  Mac bit his tongue as he sighed. “Do you have a number?”

  “Well, Joe said about four to five thousand.”

  Mac’s tongue bled as he bit down on one side of it.

  Brock arrived first at the top of the ridgeline. He waited for the crew columns to catch up.

  “Well, Ensign,” said Mac. “What do you see?”

  But Ensign Brock did not answer.

  “Well, what is it? Come on, let it out . . .,” said Mac as his own words trailed off when he saw it.

  “Don,” Mac said turning toward him. “Not sure.”

  “Of what?” Don replied.

  “The pilots.”

  “What about them?” questioned Don.

  “If we have enough to fly them,” answered Ensign Brock instead. He might be young, but he was an officer, and he was determined to lean into Mac.

  Just over the ridge, the range split into a sunken tree-covered valley. The ridge completely surrounded the two sides with a large lake at the very bottom. The dense tree canopy concealed everything from the sky above. However, from the ground hundreds of hidden ships were visible in space docks carefully cut into the hillside.

  At the bottom of the valley, massive natural steam vents surrounding the lake, by default, providing a dense layer of steam high into the atmosphere. This natural camaflouge concealed the lake, which in turn was used for resupplying the ships with water from many maintenance and life sustaining functions.

  “How come we never saw this during the Tri-Sun War?” said Mac.

  “Probably the same reason the Grax missed it,” answered Don. “It’s carved out by skilled artisans, using sleight of hand illusions to hide it.”

  14

  CLOAK

  The Grax fighter had returned to render aid to his wingman. Meanwhile, Robert was staring at Huldra in absolute awe of its essence as they approached. For the moment, he had forgotten about the fighter. In minutes, they would enter the planet’s atmosphere. This was his first off-world planet, and he did not want to miss a micro-cycle of it.

  Robert was distracted, studying the majestic view of the planet. He understood what Joe had meant by our people and the implications of being old enemies, now to kinsfolk. The Tourians had been Bandor’s longtime foes. Now the situation had been flipped upside down; the lies now becoming truths, vice versa. Robert felt conflicted with what was right or wrong, and was beginning to question his oath to the police force.

  “Joe, we have a problem,” said Sadar.

  “I don’t like problems,” responded Joe in a worried tone. “A small or big one?”

  “Well . . . sort of huge. The cloak is failing while we enter the atmosphere. The ship is partially reappearing when the heat comes in contact the air, and the Grax fighter seems to have noticed.”

  Sadar continued, “It’s challenging us on the comms. Seems to be questioning who we are. I believe the prototype is new to them as well, but it has Grax markings, so maybe causing some doubt. It’s a patrol, so they probably know what is supposed to be in this area, and we seem to not be on that list.”

  “What are they saying?” asked Joe.

  “I’ll put it on speaker,” responded Sadar.

  When the audio came up, Robert looked confused. “Sounds like gibberish to me,” said Robert.

  “Not surprised,” replied Sadar. “You don’t have the universal translator the Grax gave us.”

  “What do you mean gave, I thought you were against them,” asserted Robert.

  “Trust me, you wouldn’t like the way they gave it to us,” replied Joe. “Some would say it was torture.”

  “Really Joe,” said Sadar. “We don’t have time for these kinds of jokes. That fighter see
ms frustrated with us for not responding to his queries.

  “The Grax is saying to stop or he will fire on us,” said Joe.

  “Darn—brace!” yelled Sadar as the Grax fighter fired upon them.

  Their ship shook violently as the laser hit. A brief waterfall of sparks fell on top of Robert from the ceiling causing him to flinch and then flail around. He quickly brushed his clothes in anticipation of a burning sensation, but was relieved to not feel any.

  “Joe, with the probability of direct hits on our vessel from the enemy and being so far from home and with no support, the best option is to maneuver, but . . .,” said Augie internally.

  “I got it, Augie.” Joe cut Augie off. He had already starting to jink the ship in response to Augie’s instruction. The vessel was quickly heating up as they pushed deeper into the planet’s air. The uneven warming of the craft's surface was causing severe buffeting, which was rapidly worsening.

  “Joe, I’m not finished,” said Augie trying to caution him. “Any excessive maneuvering in the atmosphere will also increase our damage, most likely resulting in the vessel’s destruction . . . and that is definitely excessive.”

  A volley of cannons from the enemy’s fighter hit home again, shaking the ship hard. They were only halfway through reentry into the planet’s atmosphere. Yet, their ship’s skin temperature increased from the growing air resistance.

  “Well, we don’t have a choice if they keep hitting us,” said Joe defiantly. “Blown out of the sky or broken apart are not feasible options.”

  “Blow what?” asked Robert apprehensively. He was still focused on understanding what Joe had said previously since he could not hear Augie. “A suit!” he cried in fear. “Do I get a suit? You have my word, remember! I’m in—in.”

  “Don’t worry Robert, we have air now. It’s just the fall that will kill you this time,” said Joe sarcastically. The ship was buffeting hard. Pieces of external panels were coming loose and being ripped off the nose of their ship. Huldra’s atmosphere was three times thicker than Bandor’s, making entry a longer process in comparison.

  Without missing a beat, Joe added, “Well, it looks like breaking apart is taking the lead. Bets, anyone?”