by L. E. Thomas
Waylon sprinted off toward the tunnel.
He moved with the agility of a running back. He jumped over discarded crates, sliding from cover to cover, keeping a small object tucked under his arm. Josh fired into the tunnel, unsure if anyone remained to fire back. He squeezed the trigger until nothing happened.
He crouched behind the crate. “Need another!”
Matta threw her hands up. “I’m out.”
Josh leaned to look at Tocol and Drad firing. He yelled for them, but they could not hear. Glancing down at the ancient rifle, he sighed and rested the weapon over the crate. He aimed at the tunnel entrance, waiting for a clear shot of Cyclops. He thought of the torturous days under this man, relishing the thought of a projectile hitting him straight between the eyes and providing justice.
He calmed his breathing, his finger resting on the trigger.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Show yourself.”
Waylon sprinted from a line of crates close to the prisoner tunnel. He dove and slid up against the rock to the right of the entrance. Holding his hand high, Tocol and Drad ceased firing. Matta crouched on one knee and pointed her pistol at the ceiling. Josh kept the rifle pointed to the smoke-filled tunnel. An odd quiet fell over the hangar.
Smoke hung in the air. The fires crackled, sounding louder now that the firefight had ceased. Josh squinted.
Waylon leaned against the rock. He produced a black object, pressed a button on its surface and hurled it into the tunnel. Spinning back around, Waylon dove to the ground.
A blinding white light flashed from the tunnel. A wave of gray smoke rolled out of the entrance. Two figures stumbled out, both wearing the dark tunics of the Tyral Pirates. Tocol and Drad fired, dropping both of the pirates. Josh hesitated. Had Cyclops been one of them?
Waylon stood as if the nearby pirates would reanimate and charge. He pulled a handgun, keeping it trained on the men Tocol and Drad just dropped as he strode toward the tunnel entrance. A milky white smoke hissed out of the entrance mixing with the gray.
“What was that?” Josh whispered.
“Gas,” Matta said. “Anyone left in there won’t stay long.”
Several moments passed with Waylon aiming his weapon to the tunnel entrance. An engine cranked, a beam of light shooting through the smoke. A clump of figures, wearing the dark rags of the Tyral Pirates and garments covering their faces in an attempt to block the gas from their lungs, rushed out of the tunnel like screaming furies. Waylon fired into the mass of humanity pouring out of the tunnel. In the midst of the crowd of rushing bodies, the four-wheel vehicle the pirates had used to carry equipment burst out of the tunnel with Cyclops on board.
The vehicle crashed into Waylon, but the man held on. Tocol and Drad fired into the group of pirates. With their weapons empty, Josh and Matta could only watch.
The four-wheeler shot across the hangar. The wheels bounced on the uneven surface. Waylon held tight onto the front of the vehicle. Cyclops pounded Waylon’s face. The vehicle bounced. Waylon hung on, climbing over the front of the vehicle to attack Cyclops. Josh stared wide-eyed as the four-wheeler crashed into the airlock. Waylon and Cyclops tumbled to the ground, locked in hand-to-hand combat. The men grappled.
Tocol and Drad jumped over the burning fighter, rushing the remaining pirates. Tocol brandished the curve sword as he ran. Drad pulled two daggers. The two men crashed into the charging pirate garrison, slashing and pounding through the chaos. A vicious battle raged across the hangar before Josh’s eyes.
“Come on!” Matta yelled, sprinting away from the burning crate.
Without thinking, Josh rushed into the fray, his weakened legs carrying him as fast as they could. Blood splattered across the floor. Men battled with men. Screams and grunts surrounded him. Entering the fight, he hoisted the rifle over his head like a club, swinging wildly and connecting with a pirate’s shoulder. The man turned to face him, but Tocol’s sword sliced the enemy to the ground.
Pain flashed. A force smacked him from behind. Josh grunted, the back of his head searing. He tumbled to the ground. The pirate Tocol slashed fell next to him unmoving. As Josh’s head throbbed, he remained still as the world spun around him. The sounds of fighting abruptly ceased.
Josh raised his head. Tocol’s boot stepped on the fallen pirate’s shoulder.
Josh rolled over on his back and stared at the massive man. “Thank you.”
“You aren’t much for fighting are you, little man?” Tocol offered a hand and lifted Josh to his feet.
Josh put his arm around Tocol’s shoulder and surveyed his surroundings. Six pirate bodies covered the blood-covered hangar floor. Drad, his daggers sheathed, stood in the middle of the carnage, helping Matta to her feet. The tiny women stood, her body drenched in sweat. The gray, oil stained pilot coveralls were ripped across her knees and torn at the sleeves. A trickle of blood slid down from the crack in her lip.
“You guys know what you’re doing,” Josh said, gasping for breath. “I’m a pilot, not a shock trooper.”
Tocol snorted, wiping sweat from his brow. “No, you are not a warrior.” He slapped Josh’s shoulder. “But you have the heart of one.”
A laser shot fired from the airlock. Josh stared. Waylon!
Waylon stood at the airlock door, his back toward them. A laser pistol rested in his hand at his side. Drad and Matta ran toward the door. Tocol helped Josh across the hangar to the airlock.
Inside, the crumpled wreck of the four-wheeler sat in pieces at the back. Cyclops, the man who had tortured them for months, leaned up against the wreckage. A fresh laser burn sizzled on his shoulder, a candle like burn drifting up from the wound. His good eye bled, already swelling shut from Waylon’s wraith. Cyclops breathed slowly, his gaze on the floor.
“Just do it,” Cyclops hissed. “End it.”
Waylon stared down at the man as the other Barracudas stood near him.
Allowing Josh to balance himself at the entrance, Tocol raised his sword.
“I’ll do it,” he said, taking one step into the airlock.
Waylon shook his head. “No, no.” He sighed, as if coming to a difficult decision. “I think this should end the way it ended for all of those families you thought unworthy.”
He took a step backward into the asteroid hangar and nodded as his hand rested on the button for the airlock’s outer door. Josh moved back as Waylon pressed the button.
The interior door slid shut separating Josh and the Barracudas from the defeated man. The Barracudas watched through the window as the outer door hissed and began to move. Yellow warning lights blinked.
“Cowards!” Cyclops yelled. “You’re all cowards! You can’t even face me like men!”
Seething, Cyclops stared at the floor, his one good eye closing as Josh stared.
Josh couldn’t stand anymore, and fell onto his rear. His eyes remained on the airlock, but he could no longer see Cyclops. With one whooshing sound, it was over.
“Let’s get you to a place you can rest,” Waylon said, placing his hands under Josh’s armpits and pulling him to his feet.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
“They’re right on me!” Skylar screamed, her voice creating static in Austin’s earpiece.
Austin squeezed the trigger, unloading a series of bolts into the rear of a pirate craft on its way down. It collided with the ocean’s surface, debris shooting across the water as a plume of white water shot high into the air. He banked, barely avoiding the tower of ocean water.
“I’m coming, Cheetah,” Austin said, bringing the Trident around. “Where are you Bear?”
“Busy,” he said, his voice straining. “Be there when I can. They’re all over the place.”
Austin risked a glance at the situation as he made for higher altitude. The situation had evened out; the pirates no longer outnumbered the combined forces of the U.S. Navy and the Legion. Skylar scrapped with a pair of pirates far from the main battle. Two pirate craft stuck close to her tail, firing a trail of laser fire.
Forcing his shield power into his engines, Austin made up the distance in a fraction of the time it would have taken otherwise.
“Keep evading, Cheetah.”
“Just get over here! This bandit’s right on me!”
Austin adjusted his course, bringing his crosshairs on the pirate fighter closest to him; a modified Trident fighter painted black with bright yellow bars on the tail.
“Break right!” he yelled.
Skylar’s fighter did as instructed. When the Tyral fighter changed course to pursue, he flashed his engines directly into Austin’s crosshairs.
“Gotcha,” Austin said under his breath without transmitting.
He fired, the first bolts striking the engines directly. The pirate craft sputtered, tilted forward, and exploded. The fighter split in half, fires swirling away from the vessel.
“Splash one!” he yelled.
The other pirate broke off from Skylar’s tail, pulling back into a sharp loop. Austin yanked back on the throttle, trying hard to keep the pirate in front of him. The pirate craft shot upward faster than Austin could adjust.
The pirate made it behind him. Austin cursed himself for getting cocky. “Need some help, Bear. Got a guy behind me trying to crash my party.”
“Be there in ten seconds.”
“Make it five,” Austin said as the pirate corrected course and came in behind him, laser fire lighting up the sky around him. “He’s right on my tail. I’m breaking for the surface again.”
Austin pushed forward on the stick, the ocean surface replacing the sky outside his canopy. The G-forces pushed him back in his seat, twisting his stomach around with the maneuver. The harness’s shoulder straps dug into his skin like a bird’s talons. Red bolts shot past the canopy, one sizzling his starboard tail. More bolts vaporized waves on the ocean’s surface.
“I got a little heat, Bear,” Austin said, his voice straining. “You coming?”
“Getting a lock,” he grumbled. “Shoot across the surface and I’ll nail him.”
“Copy.”
Austin brought the Trident within twenty feet of the ocean and pulled up. The pirate’s laser fire covered the ocean’s surface, sending clouds of superheated salt water splashing across this canopy. He put the ship’s energy into the shields and engines. The Trident bolted forward like a spurred horse, pushing him hard into his seat. His helmet rattled. The waves zipped past the canopy as he pushed hard for the edge of the battle.
“He’s locked,” Bear said. “I’ve got him.”
The pursuing fighter broke off the pursuit as the missile closed. Austin twisted his neck around, watching the pirate pull up and break for high orbit. The pilot had waited too long, the missile was too fast. The explosion lit the late afternoon sky.
“Thanks, Bear,” Austin said, the tightness leaving his chest. “Good shooting.”
“Tizona squadron, Tiger,” Braddock said. “Bandits breaking for high orbit. That includes Dax Rodon leading the retreat. Form up at point three-oh-seven. Prepare for pursuit.”
“Copy,” Austin said, checking his sensor. “Grumbler, do you read?”
“I copy, Rock,” the U.S. Navy pilot responded.
“Thank you for your help.” He watched the bogeys flying into the upper atmosphere and heading for deep orbit. “The battle’s going where you can’t follow.”
Grumbler snorted. “Too bad. Maybe someday. Take one out for me, Rock. Good hunting.”
The Hornets broke off and headed east toward the coast. The U.S. Navy had certainly done its job defending Earth. Austin wondered what the Revelation Protocol was that was given to the pilots, what they would be told during their debriefings. He frowned. Compared to when they arrived to assist, far fewer Hornets flew away from the battle …
Austin shook his head, bringing his Trident to bear on the rally point. The sensors showed the four remaining Tyral craft heading fast for deep orbit. Within twenty seconds, they would be in space.
“Atlantis Defense Control, Tiger,” Braddock said, his tone laced with concern. “Do you copy?”
“Copy, Tiger.”
Austin recognized the voice of Commander Carv Wallace, littered with static. At least that meant Atlantis had survived the bombardment.
“SITREP,” Braddock said.
“What’s left of us is safe for now,” Wallace said. “The defense cannons did their job. The final surviving submersible fled across the ocean floor and disappeared.”
Braddock hissed. “We’ll worry about that later. Can Atlantis hold?”
“Damage control teams are doing what they can.” Wallace paused. “We’ll hold.”
“Copy,” Braddock said. “I need the disruptor fired. Our friends are trying to leave the party. We don’t need anyone else to know.”
“You got it,” Wallace said. “Solar disruptor fired. You’ve got thirty minutes.”
“We won’t need that long.” Braddock clicked over to the squadron frequency. “Tizona, all pilots report in.”
Six recruits announced their call signs, including Skylar, Bear and Gan. The other five must have been destroyed in the battle. When the reports ceased, Austin keyed for transmission.
“Rock, reporting in.”
“Rock, Tiger,” Braddock said. “You have got to be bingo fuel. Report back to Atlantis for resupply.”
Austin frowned. “With all due respect, sir, there aren’t many of us here.” He looked at his fuel display. “I can stay.”
Braddock paused. “Granted. Form up and prepare for pursuit.”
The eight Tridents formed up in high orbit. Austin balanced his power levels and tapped the dashboard gently.
“You’ve done good, girl,” he whispered. “Real good.”
The controls felt more sensitive, more responsive. As the glowing blue of the atmosphere dissipated behind them, the Tridents left the gravity of Earth. The Trident had arrived back in its home environment. Austin smiled. Perhaps it was where he belonged, too.
Something metallic glistened. Sunlight flickered off something in deep space. He did a sensor sweep.
Four Tyral pirates flew in tight formation heading for Earth’s moon; three modified Tridents and some kind of modified fighter-bomber.
“Four bandits dead ahead,” Skylar announced, pulling closer in formation to Austin’s left. “Looks like they’re going to exit behind the moon.”
“Copy, Cheetah,” Braddock said. “Tighten it up, Toad.”
Austin perked up. Gan Patro had a lower point total than Bear when Austin had left Tarton’s Junction, leaving him the furthest from graduation. He shook his head. Braddock must have scraped the bottom of the barrel to bring the newbies on this mission. Command must not have liked the idea of sending the alert fighters of Tarton’s Junction on this mission, not enjoying the idea of risking all of Quadrant Eight for the possible risk against a dark world like Earth. By the time word got out Earth was truly threatened and under attack, the Legion couldn’t react fast enough. The Legion really got caught with its pants down.
But Braddock knew.
His reputation as a true Star Runner had been more fact than myth. Austin smiled as he glanced over at Braddock’s Trident in the lead position of their formation. If not for Braddock, the Tyral surprise attack would have taken out not only Atlantis, but could have signaled the end of Earth as a dark world in Legion space. If Dax Rodon had taken over, the entire planet could have eventually been enslaved.
“I need a missile check,” Braddock ordered. “I’m out.”
Most of the young pilots called out empty, their missiles used up in the defense of Atlantis. Austin glanced at his readouts. A complete lack of missiles didn’t worry him as much as his fuel levels dropping below ten percent.
“I have two,” Gan said, his voice quiet.
“Stunners?” Braddock asked.
“Negative.”
“Copy, Toad,” Braddock said. “I need you to form up next to me. We’re under one hundred MUs out. I want you to get a lock
and take out two of these guys when we’re in range.”
“Copy, sir.”
The formation shifted, allowing Gan to push out to tactical spread on Braddock’s wing.
“Listen, Toad,” Braddock said, his voice low. “When we’re in range, this scum is going to wiggle like a crushed insect under a boot. I want you to stay on them. I want two of them down before they have a chance to fire back. You got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Gan said, his voice cracking.
“That’s good recruit,” Braddock said. “The rest of you, get your guns hot and get ready to scrap. Long range scans have reported the pirates are going to curve out on the dark side of the moon.”
“How is that possible, captain?” Bear asked.
“The pirates have stashed a way station on the moon,” Braddock said without delay.
“A way station?” Skylar asked.
“Boosts a curve,” Braddock said. “Cut the chatter. We’re eighty MUs out. Everybody get ready. I don’t want this scum escaping again today. Toad, get your lock.”
Austin cracked his knuckles. Ignoring the sweat under his palms and his weary eyelids, he sat up straight in the cockpit. The Trident had given him everything she had today. Now, with Dax Rodon fleeing in front of him, Austin coaxed a little more from his battered fighter.
Dax Rodon.
He thought of their last encounter in the space around Flin Six. He nearly had the pirate leader. The dogfight had been fast, too quick to lead to a resolution. Rodon fled, vowing to fight at another place and time. Well, Austin thought as he clenched his jaw, the other place and time had arrived.
“Seventy MUS,” Braddock announced. “Get that lock!”
“Copy, Tiger,” Gan said.
Despite willing his fighter to move faster, Austin stayed in formation while his comrade searched for a lock. The sensors of Gan’s targeting computer hit one of the Tyral fighters. The modified fighter broke off from Rodon’s foursome and launched into evasive maneuvers.