Star Runners 2: Revelation Protocol

by L. E. Thomas

  Barrow snapped to the right and nodded. The hologram shifted to the Pacific Ocean off the coast of California. Barrow grabbed a laser pointer and highlighted a blue collection of circles west of San Francisco.

  “Here we have a carrier task force on standby to assist with the situation,” Barrow continued. “We have four VFA squadrons comprised of forty F-18 Hornets and a VAQ Squadron with five growlers as well as surface ships. The Amberjack and Corvina are deploying to provide missile defense if required. We are ready to support. Our people have been notified this is a training exercise. Our best pilots are on alert status and will be sworn to secrecy if they are called to action. The U.S. Navy will be ready, gentlemen. Admiral?”

  “Thank you, sir,” Gist said. He turned to face the rest of the audience as Barrow took his seat. “All of our forces are on the highest alert since the disruptor was hacked. We were blind for approximately three Earth hours and I want the word spread across the planet to report any unusual activity. We are still unsure of what we missed during that time. However, we have the disruptor back in our control and it is operational.”

  The hologram shifted to show the coast of California. A crimson square pulsated around San Francisco. Gist gestured to the west and focused far into the Pacific Ocean.

  “As for our current defenses, all efforts of counter-espionage are underway. Our ground units are staged at Base Prime and Base Beta on the other side of the world and will be moved into action where required. In the event the attack comes from orbit, we are currently redeploying available craft from Quadrant Eight to Atlantis. I have been informed Atlantis will have a total of sixty-three Tridents prepped and ready to fly in forty-eight hours.”

  “Excuse me, Admiral Gist,” Hobson said. “We only have twenty-two Tridents on alert status at the moment and not enough seasoned Star Runners to fly them. Those Tridents ready to move are stationed at Atlantis. What if this expected attack on San Francisco happens sooner than forty-eight hours?”

  “We cannot risk moving more forces to Earth in the event this is ruse. We could be leaving Quadrant Eight open to invasion at other key locations.” Gist’s eyes darted to the audience of officers. “We have to wait for our designated reinforcements to arrive. Pray any attack doesn’t come before that happens.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Josh pressed against the sand, watching as the pirates woke long before dawn. The sky lightened in the distance. Two pirates stretched and strolled over to work on the fighters. The other two sat at a crate serving as a table near the spacecraft. They studied a battered display and held a discussion in hushed tones.

  “Those two must be the pilots,” Josh whispered, pointing toward the crate. “If this plan is going to work, I’ll have to take out one of them first.”

  Waylon grumbled. “I don’t know if I like this plan.”

  “It’s the best we’ve got and only two hours until sunrise.”

  “Alright. I’ll get to work.” He thrust a massive finger in Josh’s direction. “You just make sure you make this work. Got it?”

  Josh shrugged. “If I can’t, I won’t be around for you to harass.”

  “True enough. Fate be good.”

  Waylon crawled away to work on his part of the plan. Josh waited, his head spinning. Hunger twisted his gut. His mind wandered and his eyes threatened to close. He smacked his cheek and tried to sharpen, tried to … stay frosty.

  He smiled.

  Stay frosty.

  Austin used to say that whenever they went into combat on the servers back on Earth. Combat seemed too grand a description for what they did back then, even if the game served as an early simulation. Austin probably had his wings by now, might even be serving somewhere else and flying Tridents instead of the scrappy pirate fighters on the landing pad in front of Josh.

  The Tyral modified fighters could pack a punch, he knew that firsthand, but he had never flown one. Even if some of the pirate fighters had been born as Tridents, the heavy modifications and customized features made each Tyral spacecraft unique. He had once asked about it in class, but was told the modifications could be as varied as the pilot. He knew it might take a moment to learn how to fly again.

  But Waylon counted on him to learn. Fast.

  The horizon flickered away from the landing pad, waving oranges and yellows from the direction Waylon had ran. Sparkling embers glimmered into the sky. A moment later, the ground ignited, dry grasses roaring into a cloud of fire. The inferno lit the entire sky.

  Waylon had started his portion of the plan. Josh watched the pirates point toward the fire. Two pirates ran toward the flames while the other two remained on the landing pad.

  Josh tensed, watching the two pilots discussing something. The men spoke and pointed, nodding as they did so. The pilots parted. One headed toward the fighters. The other, the pilot wearing a red sash, hurried to the tent as he studied a tablet.

  Now!

  Josh sprinted from the sands, rushing for the pilot at the tent. His legs wobbled, his knee almost buckling as he ran. His feet kicked sand high into the air. Josh gripped the sharpened root in his right hand. His muscles burned. He kicked his legs high, remembering to keep his weight on the front of his feet like springs.

  The pilot wearing the red sash disappeared into the tent, the shape of the man falling into darkness away from the light of the flames. Josh reached the landing pad, but still found twenty yards to go until he reached the tent. He ran toward the tent, the light of the flames washing over him. The red sash exited the tent and halted, staring at him. For a moment, the two men locked their eyes on one another. Josh hesitated. He gripped the root. The pilot stared with bloodshot eyes, his hand hovering over the holster strapped to his left leg. The pilot yanked a pistol from its holster. Josh closed the gap.

  The pilot aimed. He fired.

  The bolt sizzled past Josh’s wiry frame. The second shot blasted through his ear. Josh screamed. He never slowed. The two collided, the force of the impact sending them tumbling back into the tent. Sand soared into the air. Grit burned into his eyes. They rolled, Josh ending up on top of the pirate. Thick fingers pressed into his throat. He couldn’t breathe. Josh thrust with the root. The sharpened edge pierced flesh. Hot blood squirted down his hand.

  But the pilot hurled Josh away like a dog playing with his toy. Josh rolled through the canvas. His vision blurred. He found his feet. The pilot ran for the fighter.

  When Josh stood, he noticed the engines from one of remaining fighters rumbled to life. The thrust sent howling gusts swirling around the landing pad. Tents twisted off into the sky, the engines creating a sandstorm. In the center of the howling sands, the pilot with the red sash stumbled toward the second fighter. He clutched at his stomach as he hobbled across the landing pad.

  Josh sprinted after him.

  He ran until his body threatened to stop. Darkness surrounded his vision, his head pounding. The ground felt unsteady.

  “Hey!” he yelled, grabbing a crate for balance.

  The pilot fired without looking, his attention still on the fighter. Josh dropped to one knee, the laser bolt passing over him. He shook away the dizziness and sprinted for the pilot. He closed the distance. The pilot reached the ladder leading to the cockpit, but Josh ripped him away from his craft. The pilot fell to the ground, the pistol falling into the sand. Josh stood over him, the sharpened root ready to strike.

  “Please, no. Please, just take it.” The pilot held up his hands. “I beg you.”

  With the root above his head, Josh hesitated. He looked back at the idle fighter.

  It was all the time the pilot needed.

  Whipping a weapon from his tunic and rising to one knee, the pirate pulled back, his arm cocked to hurl a sharp curved knife into Josh’s back.

  Two massive hands engulfed the pilot’s head and snapped his neck. The pirate, a shocked expression still on his face, collapsed into the dirt.

  Josh spun around. Waylon stood over the pilot’s twitching body, his hulki
ng figure gleaming in the firelight.

  “Go!” Waylon pointed to the sky. “Go!”

  Josh followed his gaze. The other fighter screamed hard for the horizon, but swept in a long, slow arc to return back to the landing pad. The pirate planned to eliminate their prisoners.

  He searched the pilot’s clothing and found what had to be the keycard for the fighter craft. It did not seem much different than the security on a Trident. When he passed the card in front of the canopy, the cockpit’s electronics whined to life. He climbed the ladder and jumped into the cockpit. A cool emerald green pulsated off the control board as he shot through the checklist.

  He ran out of time. The pom-pom-pom of the laser guns told him the clock was running out. Crimson bolts spit death, igniting entire rows of prisoners. Men incinerated to ash in an instant. One man running for a barn vaporized. The fighter shot overhead. Somehow, Josh knew the next pass would be aiming for him.

  “Hurry up!” Waylon yelled from the landing pad.

  “I’m trying! This isn’t like starting a scooter!”

  “A scooter?” Waylon yelled.

  “Never mind.” Josh shook his head.

  The engines came to life a moment later. Josh prayed these pirate morons had done all the prep work the night before. He lifted ten feet off the ground, the exhaust sending sand shooting in all directions. Josh glanced down, saw Waylon, offered a salute, and hit the throttle. As the engine rumbled with power, he smiled and exhaled.

  The fighter accelerated toward the aqua blue sky. His head rocked as the ship accelerated. His head bumped against the cockpit, sending a flash of pain where the pilot’s shot had burned his ear. The horizon rapidly transitioned to orange. He hugged the ground, trying to keep his fighter at one hundred feet. Blinking sweat from his eyes, he focused on the sensors and tried to ignore the fact he hadn’t been in the cockpit since the Rockshot competition. The enemy closed, his targeting computer hunting Josh’s signature. Josh eased more power into his engines while he checked the topography: Flat grasslands until the ground split into a dozen canyons like capillaries. If he could make it to the canyons, he might have a shot.

  Laser bolts fired over his head.

  This was it.

  Josh eased everything into the throttle, the engine’s whine growing higher in pitch. He banked and rolled, carrying out every evasive maneuver he learned in training and even improvised. The pirate stayed with him, laser bolts blasting the ground in front of him. The stray bolts ignited the grasslands with a shower of sparks and golden embers in the early morning light.

  The grasslands gave way to deep canyons. Josh dove into the canyons at his first chance, dodging sharp rocks stretching out like demonic fingers. The laser fire ceased. Josh checked his sensors. The bandit trailed him, close. Josh’s knuckles turned white on the stick as he pressed near the canyon floor. He whipped across a raging river close enough to send mist onto his windshield. He couldn’t risk a glance, but knew his exhaust had to be sending up a spray into his attacker’s face.

  A laser bolt sizzled into the water in front of him. Josh looked up, but already knew his mistake. The pirate had gone for altitude, and now shot down at him from high above the canyon.

  Josh swore as he yanked back on the stick, bringing the fighter to a ninety-degree angle. Gravity pressed him into his seat. He fired in the pirate’s direction, but only had enough power for one shot. The bolt passed underneath the bandit.

  The counterattack lit up the sky with streaks of red. Josh rolled, but kept his direction trained on his enemy. If he was going to die today, he would at least take out this pilot. A bolt smashed into Josh’s wing, the shields flickering.

  Josh pulled back quickly, bringing his fighter to bear on the enemy. The pirate shot for higher orbit. Josh transferred his power from the shields to his lasers. Twenty seconds. Josh rolled his head around and cracked his knuckles. It was now the pirate’s turn to evade.

  “Let’s see what you got,” he said aloud.

  The chase hugged the atmosphere, both ships skipping across the planet’s protective barrier. The primitive shields buckled, but held. This modified fighter didn’t have the power resources of his Trident. With his engines powered at maximum, the energy diverted into the shields and lasers charged slowly. The laser energy banks flashed once on his HUD, enough to provide one shot.

  Josh fired. The laser bolts shot through the atmosphere and dissipated off the pirate’s shields. Josh pulled up, his shields nearly gone.

  Josh pulled away from the atmospheric effects. He banked right and peered over the edge of the canopy. The enemy fighter left a long, orange streak across the atmosphere of this cursed planet. Josh hovered over him, pursuing above like a hawk waiting for the right moment. Apparently this guy didn’t realize how to defend against his own tactics. Or, Josh thought, he figured the atmospheric disturbance would save him from laser fire. Whatever his plan, Josh wasn’t going to give him a chance.

  And then it hit him.

  The pirate stalled for time, and hiding at the edge of the atmosphere was a good place to buy that time. His enemy either sent a signal for reinforcements or he plotted a curve to get out of here.

  This needed to end. Now.

  The laser’s energy banks read full.

  Finally.

  Josh pushed forward on the stick. His fighter shot ahead like a missile. He leaned forward, his shoulders tensing. The crosshairs on his display bounced just ahead of his target. It blinked once, turning yellow to signify he was in laser range.

  Wait.

  The fighter bounced, hitting the edge of the atmosphere. The crosshairs transitioned to green.

  Wait.

  Josh held his finger gently on the trigger. He waited until his fighter came closer, so close he read the blackened numbers on the tail of his enemy’s fighter.

  He pulled the trigger. Lasers erupted. Bolts smashed into his enemy’s twin engines. He spun down out of the atmospheric cover. Josh stayed on him, unleashing the full power of his lasers. The shots pounded the enemy fighter. The bandit’s shields buckled and fizzled out. Pieces of debris spun off like sparks spinning away from a fire. The engine exploded. A flash of fire and light illuminated the atmosphere. Josh pulled away.

  Leveling off, Josh banked left to watch the fiery wreckage tumble through the sky. The debris sent sparkling lines across the atmosphere like fireworks. He lingered, breathing heavily. The last bits of the fighter disappeared in the clouds. Josh leaned back in the seat, gazing into the sky.

  No ejection pod or parachute. The pirate he had seen at the fireside early that day was dead, gone forever. He had killed a man.

  Josh shook his head. He touched his burnt ear, the skin flashing with pain. The pirates tried to do the same to him. They nearly succeeded.

  Time to get Waylon and get off this rock before any reinforcements arrive.

  He eased forward on the stick, tilting his trajectory toward the ground. Scanning the horizon, Josh searched for the grass fire Waylon set for both a diversion and a signal fire. Black smoke twirled into the sky to the east, looming like a tornado. He thought of his partner in the middle of the inferno.

  I hope Waylon is still alive.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “This is crazy.” Austin gripped the arms on the bed hard enough to make his hands a mixed shade of white and red. “I feel fine. I need to get back out there.”

  “Give it one more night,” the nurse said. “You’ll be able to walk freely first thing in the morning.”

  The nurse left, leaving Austin to stare at the ceiling. He sighed, trying to relax. He imagined being in a hammock, relaxing with a glass of lemonade as a breeze caused him to sway. Maybe he would be able to spend time with Ryker soon. Hopefully, this business on Earth would be over and he would be able to travel to Ryker, spend his leave with her now that nothing remained on Earth for him. They had no time to talk after the Flin Six incident. He only had small moments beside her hospital bed to savor, nothing more. When he c
losed his eyes, he could see her face. Relaxing with her would take his mind off Earth.

  But his mind wouldn’t let him relax.

  A fight neared, he felt it in his bones. Something wasn’t right. He closed his eyes. Even though he was now in the center of Base Prime, perhaps the most secure Legion compound in the whole of Quadrant Eight, he saw the shadow-like Phantoms every time he closed his eyes. He saw the men materialize from nothingness, clad in clothing black as pitch. They hunted him. They hunted his family. They hunted Kadyn. They killed Sharkey.

  “Lieutenant.”

  “No need to whisper, captain,” Austin said, leaving his eyes closed. “I can’t sleep.”

  Nubern chuckled as he moved into the room. He sat down in the bedside chair. “Feeling that great, eh?”

  “I don’t think my problems are physical, sir.” He swallowed and stared at the wall. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “I know.” He swallowed. “I wish I could say it gets better.”

  Austin grimaced. “It felt different destroying spacecraft. I saw the explosion and marked another kill. It wasn’t a person. This killing up close—and trying not to be killed—is … difficult.”

  “I know.”

  A few moments of silence passed between them. Austin enjoyed the quiet and listened to the heart monitor.

  “Your treatments are almost done,” Nubern said, almost whispering. “You should be back at one-hundred percent by morning.”

  “That’s what they say,” Austin sighed. “How’s Mom?”

  “Better,” Nubern said with a nod. “Better every hour. Kadyn’s in recovery and has been talking with our people. She is going to be okay, but it’s going to take some time.”

  “I should see her.”

  Nubern shook his head. “She’s being treated right now. Probably not a good idea. I’ll be sure she gets a message from you when she’s ready. Besides, you unfortunately don’t have that luxury, Lieutenant.”

  Austin heard the change in his tone, a shift reflecting the chain of command. “Yes, sir.”