Star Runners 2: Revelation Protocol

by L. E. Thomas

  “You’re not dead,” Waylon grumbled, sitting forward.

  “Wish I was,” Josh said in a raspy voice. Coping with the pain flaring on his back, he twisted to stare at the landing pad.

  The Tyral spacecraft remained near the barn. Pirate guards sat around the crates. Cyclops and the guards spoke at the edge of the crates. They turned and walked in their direction.

  His cracked lips parted.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said.

  “What? Work?” Waylon asked.

  “Yes.”

  Waylon nodded. “I’ll cover for you. We’ll get through this.”

  *****

  Hours blurred into days.

  The guards rushed them, driving them to finish planting the field, never explaining the need for the rush. Josh struggled to keep up, but Waylon did twice the work to cover for him. Impressed, Cyclops provided Josh medicine. At first, Josh wondered if the pills would end up being poison. But then he figured the man would have killed him by now if he wanted him dead. Cyclops drove the workers hard, filled with a new ferocity. Something pushed him, and Josh figured it had to be Dax Rodon. A deadline must be approaching, and the prisoners had to finish this field for some reason.

  Prisoners received punishment for not performing up to the standards of the Tyral Pirates. The guards beat several workers each day, whipped others. The guards dumped three dead workers into the ditch at the beginning of the third day since Delmar’s death. Two had wounds from Cyclops’ bullwhip as other unfortunate prisoners carried the bodies from the field. The other man, one of Waylon’s group, had no visible wounds. Josh assumed he had worked himself to death.

  On the third night, Josh killed a rat with his bare hands, breaking its neck when it tried to gnaw on his toe. In his survival training, the Lobera instructors in California had gone over the details of eating a fresh animal and living off the land. Of course, he had assumed they meant deer and not this tiny rodent. Still, meat was meat. Gathering together a shovel from the edge of the field and some grass, he built a small fire and cooked the animal for Waylon to share. While small, the rat provided them with the first fresh meat he’d eaten in months.

  “Better than the milky green scum they have been giving us,” Waylon said with a smile, his teeth crunching bones.

  “Yes.” Josh surveyed the landing pad and the barn. “Something’s up.”

  “Up?” Waylon asked while concentrating on his food.

  “At the landing pad.”

  Pirates swarmed over the tug, attaching the freight container carrying the curvature. Two men working on the tug’s engine closed a metal hatch. The tug engine fired and the men cheered. Earlier in the day, the tug had fired its engine without lifting off. The tug took off with three pirate fighters for deep atmo, the boom signifying they surpassed the sound barrier.

  Josh sighed as he watched the vessels flicker and disappear.

  The way station Delmar had died for had escaped. Whatever planet Dax Rodon and the Tyral Pirates planned to attack would have to defend itself.

  He shook away the thought. Focus on getting yourself out of here.

  By the fourth day, the pain dulled on his back although he knew it would never totally go away. Despite the situation, he felt stronger today than he did yesterday. Whatever medicine Cyclops had provided must have prevented an infection.

  *****

  Earlier in the day, his shovel hit something hard. When more guards worked the fields, he would have yanked out whatever caused the disruption and tossed it off the field. However, he was not under the same amount of surveillance.

  He had knelt down, finding a hardened root about a foot long and several inches thick. Breaking off a piece with his shovel, he stuffed the root into his garments.

  As they finished their work, he studied the field. They would soon be done plowing and planting. With no additional fields in site, Josh wondered what the Tyral Pirates would do when they finished the work.

  Turning back to the landing pad, two pirate fighters remained withoug cargo containers. Wherever Dax Rodon gathered his forces, he must have all the supplies he needed.

  He watched Cyclops meeting with the guards near the fighters. After several minutes of talking amidst the gusting wind, the guards broke off and loaded equipment into the fighters. Dread filled his chest.

  They were leaving.

  No more cargo containers, freighters and no more fields to work meant the pirates must be leaving the prisoners on the planet. The prisoners would die in the fields. Either the pirates would fly overhead and execute them from the air, or Cyclops and his men would leave them to rot on this planet. The fields the prisoners had tended would wait until the pirates returned. If the pirates were lucky, a harvest would await them when they brought more prisoners in to do the work.

  Josh sat in the dirt. Realizing Dax Rodon had probably done it this way for years.

  He looked at the two fighters. One way or the other, he would die here if the pirates fled.

  He had to make a move tonight.

  *****

  After settling into the prisoners’ sleeping area, Josh watched the guards. Four relaxed near the fire, the boxes on the landing pad loaded into the cargo bays of the fighters.

  Most of the prisoners collapsed where they stopped, too exhausted to work any longer. Their resting bodies filled in the land between the field and the landing pad. The guards didn’t force the prisoners to their sleeping area this night.

  Josh’s muscles ached, his back flaring up as the wind scraped against it. He winced.

  Night fell across the plains.

  One of the pirate fighters took off just after sunset, blasting the silence and disappearing into the distance. Josh glanced back to the landing pad, he didn’t see Cyclops. He must have left.

  Without their commander around, the guards passed around a bottle, all four of them keeping their guns within close reach. Josh figured they must be waiting to leave in the morning. Studying the scene in front of him and noticing the lack of transport, he realized he was right: The guards would either kill the prisoners from the air or leave them to starve.

  Josh tied a rag around his forehead to soak up the sweat, and stared out across the space between the camp’s dump and their landing pad.

  Time to go, he thought.

  Waylon had gone to sleep. Without disturbing him, Josh moved back to the field to find a rock. He searched in the darkness and found a small, sharp stone. Using his fingernails and the stone, he worked on sharpening the root as fast as he could manage. He pulled back strips of the root until it came to a point. Pushing the root against his palm, he decided it was as sharp as he could make it. He should have paid closer attention in his survival training.

  He kept low to the ground, trying to avoid the flickering light of the flames playing across the dead grass. Two guards leaned far back in their metal chairs, their mouths hanging open. Their breath formed clouds of mist over their heads like ghostly halos in the crisp night air. The remaining guards stared into the fire, their eyes blinking slowly. One guard sat on a stump, his head leaning forward toward the fire, the nearly empty bottle against his boot. The other pirate leaned back on his palms, staring into the night sky.

  The winds brushed the taller grasses. Prisoners groaned and snored in the night, too tired to contemplate escape, too sick to think.

  Josh moved from row to row, making his way back to Waylon. The men smelled almost as bad as the filth of the garbage pit. The same garbage flies buzzed around the men, some filling festering wounds while others hovered over excrement from men too tired to move to the latrine.

  In the darkness, he nearly gave up finding Waylon until he saw the large frame at the edge of the camp. Waylon stared into the darkness, his elbows resting on his knees as Josh slipped up behind him.

  “What do you want?” Waylon asked without turning, his voice weak.

  “I want to leave,” Josh said. “And now is the time.”

  Waylon exha
led. “I thought you were dead, friend.”

  Josh studied his surroundings. “Where is the rest of your crew?”

  Waylon gazed into the darkness. “Acks’ll probably not make the night.”

  He made a silent count. “You’re all that’s left? How?”

  Waylon shrugged. “We’ve been out here too long living off too little and asked to do too much. It was only a matter of time.”

  Josh remembered what he had seen earlier on the landing pad. “We don’t have time for this. The pirates are leaving. My guess is they’ll be gone by morning and either kill us or leave us here.”

  Waylon shrugged. “Either way, I’d thank them. I’ve had enough of this.”

  Josh thought of the Barracudas. Delmar had acted somewhat impressed with their credentials, and Josh wondered if the reputation of the smuggling group had merit.

  “There are others, right?” Josh asked.

  Waylon blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Others in your group, you know, back from where you came from. The Barracudas?”

  Waylon thought for a long moment. Perhaps he considered if he could trust Josh, or maybe he wondered if acknowledging Josh’s question would violate a sacred trust among smugglers. Whatever the reason, Waylon’s face softened.

  “Yes, there are others,” he said, his tone neutral. “We have a base of operations in Quadrant Eight. They are my family.”

  Josh leaned toward him. “Then escape with me. Take me to your people and we can avenge our time here. Do it for your men, do it for Delmar. Do it for yourself. When we first met, I told you I would be able to fly us out of here. Well, now it’s just you and me. Help me get us out of here.”

  Josh pointed to the landing pad. “Cyclops left earlier on a fighter. Those two fighters are our only way off this planet. It’s now or never.”

  Waylon sighed. After a moment, he balled his fists and clenched his teeth. “What’s the worst that could happen? We’re gonna die here anyway. What’s your plan?”

  Josh froze. “I’m not sure, yet. I think there are only four guards left.”

  He looked at the light in the distant sky, the black night beginning to transition to dawn.

  “Whatever we do,” Josh said, “we have to move fast.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Austin drifted in and out. His consciousness came in like the tide and washed out the same way. Voices called to him.

  Austin heard the soft drone of computers, possibly an air conditioning unit rumbling to life.

  “Keep resting,” a familiar voice said.

  He tried to pry open his eyes, ignoring the flash of pain from the light in his face, but gave up the fight. He couldn’t feel the rest of his body. No pain, no comfort, nothing but the sting of a cut on his cheek. His head fell to the side and the darkness returned.

  When he opened his eyes this time, an unfocused white light surrounded him.

  He sat up. The last thing he remembered—

  He jolted, his eyes clamping shut.

  He remembered the fire; the flames circling him like a fiery nightmare. The laser bolts hitting his body. The Phantoms closing in on his position after murdering Sharkey. Mom on the forest ground, her body damaged and broken. Kadyn gone. Flaming embers falling from the treetops.

  His arms refused to move. After a struggle, he opened his eyes again. To his left, two chairs lined the wall of the white sterile room. A bright light pulsated above. With an effort, he turned his head to the right. A kind face moved closer, staring down at him.

  “Nubern,” he whispered.

  “Easy, son. I came here as quickly as I could.” He squeezed Austin’s shoulder and studied the wound on his face. “You’ve had a time of it.”

  Austin blinked. He surveyed the room.

  “It’s just us for now,” Nubern said, reading his thoughts. “You’ve been transported to Base Prime in California. You’ve been here for two days. The transport provided air support during your attack in the mountains. I called to you at the time, but you collapsed. We brought you on board and here we are.”

  Nubern smiled. Austin shook his head, not remembering anything the captain had said.

  Nubern sat. “With the exception of your head, your muscles have been incapacitated while your skin regenerates and heals itself. You had half a dozen direct laser burns. The doctors are allowing your body time to repair.”

  Nubern glanced at the monitors behind Austin. “Given your condition at the time, we decided it best to wait until we tube transported to Atlantis. You were … fragile.”

  Austin nodded. “Mom? Kadyn?”

  Nubern’s face grew icy. “Your mother’s wounds were severe just like yours. She is in isolation at the moment under observation by our best doctors. It looks like she’s going to pull through. Both of you were shot to hell.” He sighed and leaned back. “Your friend on the other hand is suffering from PTSD and two laser burns. Her mental state is crumbling. Physically she’s recovering. This happens when people experience trauma. Also, some people can’t take the realization their planet is just one of thousands in the known galaxy. It will take time. Of course, the Revelation Protocol is usually carried out with less excitement. She is currently being given sedatives to help her sleep.”

  Austin winced, knowing the next information would be difficult to hear. “Sharkey?”

  For the first time, Nubern broke eye contact and looked at the bed. “He didn’t make it, son. We found him in the middle of four dead mercenaries. He didn’t go without a fight.”

  Nubern looked back at Austin, his head nodding slowly.

  Austin’s throat swelled as a tear rolled down his cheek. “He saved us.”

  “That he did,” Nubern said, his voice cracking.

  “Who are they? Do we know for certain?” Austin asked, thinking of the mercenaries in the woods.

  Nubern gazed over his bed. “EIF is sure they are Phantoms. A highly trained outfit comprised of ex-military from all across the galaxy. They are deadly. They are expensive. Even if Dax Rodon is behind this, I find it hard to believe he could afford such a … luxury.”

  Nubern blinked and looked back at Austin.

  “Now we have to get you rested. We’re not out of this, yet. I came here because the situation for Quadrant Eight is worse than we first realized.”

  Austin sighed. “How could it be worse?”

  Nubern took in a slow, deep breath. “One of our scouts picked up Tyral Pirate activity in the Amade Cluster. Lots of it. Fighters and tugs pulling large amounts of containers through. They didn’t stay long. We launched a scouting mission, but the tugs and containers left before our ships arrived.”

  “What’s in that system?”

  “Nothing much. Only habitable planet is one with grasslands full of a whole bunch of nothing.” Nubern shrugged. “Smugglers have been known to use it in the past. We’re in the process of sending a scout to the surface to do a little recon planet side.”

  Austin frowned. “What does this have to do with Quadrant Eight?”

  “Mix the intelligence with what’s happening in the Amade Cluster with the fact our disruptor for this system was recently hacked.”

  Austin blinked. “Disruptor?”

  Nubern smiled. “It’s a piece of technology utilized in dark world systems like this one. What it does is simulates flares from the local star in the event something needs to be hidden. While you were out, people on Earth thought they were battered by a series of solar flares. It was actually our disruptor that had been hacked. Also, we lost contact with four more pilots on Earth. The rest are safe and accounted for.”

  Austin chewed on his bottom lip. The attack on Lieutenant Bolin in San Francisco seemed to kick off the recent series of attacks against Legion forces on Earth. The Phantoms targeted him, his family and killed Sharkey. Now, they hacked a disruptor to simulate solar flares smacking into Earth. Why?

  “We still don’t who they are?” Austin asked.

  “We don’t know who hired
them, but they are definitely Phantoms and they targeted only Star Runners and their families. The rest of their plan is unknown. We don’t know if the Phantoms had anything to do with the disruptor.”

  “They had to,” Austin said. “Why would anyone want to simulate solar flares?”

  “Lots of reasons, actually, but none of them make any sense.”

  A chill tickled the back of Austin’s neck. “Like what?”

  “It would be used to disguise your troop movements, mask communications. Perhaps to hide large ships if you didn’t have a shroud capable of masking them.”

  “You’re talking about an invasion.”

  “Yes.”

  “Of Earth.”

  Nubern shook his head. “That’s why this doesn’t make any sense. A mercenary outfit wouldn’t have the means to carry out a full-scale invasion. Besides, why would they? Even with superior technology, they couldn’t hope to hold the planet after Earth’s response.”

  Austin stared at the white wall. “What if it’s not an invasion but the early schemes to prepare the way for one? You know, for a force more powerful?”

  Nubern reached over and squeezed his arm. “Listen, we are working on this. Right now you need to sit back and rest. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

  Nubern glanced at the tablet in his hand and frowned. “I’ll be back to check on you later this afternoon.”

  “Captain?”

  Nubern hesitated. “Yes, son?”

  Austin swallowed. “Thank you for coming for me, sir. I am sorry about … how I acted during our last conversation.”

  “We all have doubts at times. Get some rest.”

  Austin swallowed. “Can you tell me what you meant?”

  Nubern frowned. “Meant?”

  “You said there were things going on in Quadrant Eight you wanted to tell me about. I think I deserve to know.”

  Staring at the floor, Nubern sighed. “There is no simple answer and this is a controversy that has nearly tore the Legion in half. We are usually not permitted to talk about it, but given what has happened you deserve to know.” He sat at the end of the bed, his eyes still on the wall. “Things are going much worse for the Legion than is generally known. Decades ago, it was recognized the Zahl Empire was expanding much faster than the Legion. It was quickly evident we would be in danger should the empire ever decide to start a war again.”