by L. E. Thomas
“Not attacked directly,” he said, shaking his head. “Phantoms.”
She frowned. “Phantoms? What does that mean?”
“Some kind of mercenaries. They targeted my Mom, my friend Kadyn.”
She placed her hand on his knee. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He nodded slowly. “Just tired, Sky. Exhausted, really.”
Skylar squeezed his knee and handed him a fresh rag. Moans and screams of the wounded surrounded him. He looked into her familiar face, watching her cheek crinkle when she smiled at him.
“Come a long way, you and me,” he said, touching her shoulder, looking at her worn Tizona blue flight suit. “I’ve missed you.”
“You always say that. You always look at me and say … these sweet things. But, well, never mind.” She eyed him. “It has been weird on the station since you left, Austin. Nothing’s been the same. I’ve been trying to get through my classes and the training. I’m just sick of Tarton’s Junction. I’m ready to get moving.”
Austin winced when she pressed the fresh rag on his forehead. “What was it like flying for Braddock?”
She chuckled. “When we heard our destination was Earth, I think we would have flown for anyone. I was so glad to get off that station, but I never would have imagined all this was happening.” She looked him in the eye as she pressed the cool rag on his head. “Maybe even Pavlosky.”
“Oh, man,” he laughed, thinking of the cocky Lobera pilot he nearly destroyed in the mess hall of Tarton’s Junction and the punishment he received afterward. “Just thinking of that guy makes me think of latrines. You must have really wanted to come here if you’d fly for that guy.”
She gazed at the floor and stood. “I did.”
Austin studied her, wishing he had something to say. The image of Scorpion in her bed, recovering from her shattered leg, flashed in his mind. The incident on Flin Six had broken her. And she probably waited for him to come to her side. Her voice echoed in his mind. He pressed his fingers together, no words coming to mind.
But he exhaled when he looked at Skylar, a tension leaving his chest.
Across the room, he watched someone enter the storage bay. He squinted as a woman marched across the room toward his position. Her uniform was torn and ragged, a freshly bandaged cut on her neck. She stepped up to Austin’s cot and snapped to attention.
Austin smiled. “Security Officer Brannen.”
Despite her hair matted with sweat and oil, Brannen managed to return the grin. “I had to come down when I heard you landed.”
“Thank you, Brannen.”
She smiled again. “I don’t know how you did it, but you kept the missile attack off us long enough so we could provide adequate defense from the attack down here.” She shook her head. “You might not know it, but you nearly didn’t have a port to return to.”
Austin pointed back at the standing water outside the ship. “I gathered that.”
“We fought off the intruders, managed to battle off the submersibles with our defense cannons before they were destroyed. Fighting on the ocean floor isn’t easy, required us to rely only on our sensors. They fought like crazed lunatics, those who boarded. I called everyone into action; cooks, mechanics … we fought them back, saved Atlantis.” She gazed at the floor, the expression vanishing from her face.
“Anyway,” she offered a salute, bringing her attention back to the present, “well done, Lieutenant. I’ll make sure command doesn’t forget this.”
Still on his back, Austin returned the salute. Brannen spun on her heel and marched out of the storage bay.
His helmet tucked under his arm, Braddock passed Brannen and strolled into the makeshift infirmary. He stepped next to Austin’s bed and nodded.
“Well done, Lieutenant,” Braddock said, his voice low as he glanced around the infirmary.
“A full-on captain leading Tizona recruits,” Austin said, gesturing to Braddock’s rank. “You must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel at the Junction.”
“You have no idea,” Braddock snorted. “Had to leave my squadron to guard the station in case this was all some elaborate ruse.”
Austin sat forward and started to stand.
“Please,” Braddock held up his free hand, “stay seated. You’ve had a day, Stone.”
“Another day in the service,” he said with a weak smile.
Braddock allowed a crooked grin. “I know you’re exhausted but we need to talk.”
Austin blinked. “Nubern?”
“Search and rescue teams have found seven wounded pilots in the waters above.” Braddock nodded. “Nubern was one of them. He’s banged up, but he’s tough. I know he’ll be fine. Two of the U.S. pilots were also rescued. I am told we are making the arrangements for their return at this very moment.”
Austin sighed, leaning back against the wall. “That’s good news, sir.”
“There’s more news that’s … not so good.”
Austin sighed. “Yes, sir?”
“Our teams have been surveying the wreckage from the downed submersibles our enemy used to try and take over Atlantis. The sensors here are shot to hell. It’ll be weeks before Atlantis is up and running. It appears they tried to destroy all the outer structures and take the main base. During the attack, Atlantis thought they had destroyed all of the subs.”
“So I’m told.” Austin looked at him. “And?”
Braddock stared at him, his face still as a statue. “There’s one missing.”
Austin glanced at Skylar. “So? What does that mean?”
“I’ve kept this quiet.” Braddock pursed his lips together, glancing over his shoulder. “We don’t need to cause a panic. Most of the soldiers are dead or wounded, and we don’t need these people under any more stress than they are already experiencing. One submersible got away, which means they could be heading anywhere on this planet. Our sensors won’t be able to pick them up if they skim across the ocean floor.”
“Wait a minute,” Austin said, “what would they want to do? What’s their endgame?”
“We intercepted a transmission from Rodon to his forces on Earth. It said, ‘Mission abort. Destroy all other Legion facilities possible.’ We’ve already seen firsthand his supporters are fanatical and willing to die for their leader. With this order, they’ve given up on Atlantis.”
Austin looked at his hands, the scenarios running through his mind. A submersible with otherworldly technology unleashed on the forces of Earth could be devastating, apocalyptic even. A sour feeling formed in the base of his stomach.
“What does command want us to do?” Austin asked and then made a wide sweeping gesture with his hand. “It’s not like we can mount a hunt in the state we’re in.”
Braddock nodded. “Command knows the situation. They know I brought a bunch of students down here to help defend Atlantis. The reinforcements we expected from the rest of Quadrant Eight should be arriving over the next twelve hours. We have eight operational Tridents at our disposal. They want us to head off and conduct a systematic search of the surrounding waters.”
Austin briefly closed his eyes. “When, sir?”
“As soon as our fighters are fueled and rearmed.”
Skylar shook her head. “He needs to rest, captain. Look at him.”
“Thanks, Sky,” Austin grumbled. “If this is what we need to do, let’s do it. How do we search the ocean’s depths?”
“Every fighter will get his or her coordinates to search for the next eight hours,” Braddock said. “We will use energy sensor bursts that send a wave fifty MUs out. This is a technology created during the last war to prevent the enemy from trying to mask a task force in a nebula or something similar that masks visible and other system reconnaissance. Our laser cannons are being reconfigured for underwater use, and we are bringing over ordinance to the civilian hangar for use.”
Braddock took a step forward and looked down at Austin. “I understand, Lieutenant, if you cannot make it. I’ve heard the past week ha
s been quite an ordeal for you. On top of that, you’ve been in the cockpit all day defending this base. For you, this is not an order.”
Skylar looked at him, shaking her head. Her eyes pleaded with him to stay.
“Captain,” Austin said, clearing his throat, “does command have any idea what happens if you and the recruits do not find this escaped sub?”
Braddock squared his shoulders. “The closest possible target is Base Prime.”
Austin blinked. “San Francisco?”
“Yes.” Braddock nodded. “We really don’t know.”
He thought of Kadyn recovering in rehab in San Francisco, trying to make sense of her world being turned inside out and upside down in a matter of hours. His final friend from his old life. Hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians who would die in whatever attack this rogue vessel had in mind.
Austin shook his head and stood on wobbly legs. “I’m with you, captain. Lead the way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Another concussion rocked the asteroid. Josh stumbled, falling into the mix of oil and circuit boards on the floor of the control room. He stood, brushing the liquid off his ragged clothing. Red lights flashed across the hangar, washing the room in crimson. The Zahl missile strike pounded the former pirate base, explosions growing closer by the minute. The holographic map showed the interceptors coming within seventy MUs and unleashing a fresh missile volley. Fires the Barracudas had worked to extinguish reignited with fresh fury, transforming the hangar into a fiery inferno. The glass cracked as Josh stared through, watching the Barracudas working to start their cold vessels.
They needed time.
Josh searched the controls, trying to find the startup sequence for the Tyral missile defense. A drop of sweat burned into his eye. The green screen flickered as another explosion rattled the control room’s glass once again. He cyphered through the commands organized with no apparent order. Finding the missile defense routine, he activated the system.
The holographic map shifted in the control room. Small yellow crosshairs automatically swept out into the asteroid field, searching for a lock on the incoming bandits. A moment later, a dozen of the crosshairs switched to red. With the soft concussion, the Tyral missile defense system launched a series of missiles into the field.
That’ll keep them busy.
Josh took one last look around the control room, knowing he would be destroyed along with the asteroid base in a few minutes if he didn’t leave. Seeing nothing of value, he sprinted toward the door leading to the hangar. He stopped.
The coordinates.
He ran back to the holographic map and opened the file for the coordinates of the way station. He found a shred of paper and a pen. He copied the coordinates fierce enough to nearly rip the paper apart.
When he finished, he ran back to the hangar. Gusts from starting engines shot debris and burning embers around the hangar.
Waylon stood with Tocol under the Traveler, unlocking the fuel hoses from the base of the vessel. Josh ran toward them, waving his hands.
“Launched a volley of missiles,” he said, gasping for breath. He pointed at the hangar openings. “A couple more direct hits and the base won’t be able to power those energy shields. We’re dead if that happens.”
Waylon looked at Tocol. “Get the tank to port! Help me here, Josh!”
Josh rushed to the clamp and unhooked the hoses. “I need a ship, Waylon!”
“No time! Get on board!”
Unlocking the nozzle, Josh dropped the hose just as another concussion rocked the asteroid. “I need to warn Earth!” He glanced back at the fighters. “Let me have Matta’s ship! I promise I’ll return!”
“No time!” He looked back at Tocol, who gave a thumbs up. “Get on board!”
“Waylon! I’m begging you!”
Waylon stopped and stared at Josh. The fiery embers of the hangar blaze shot around them, one sizzling into Waylon’s beard. The man pressed his lips together and grabbed Tocol’s shoulder as he ran past.
“Tocol! Get Matta off her ship!”
“But that’s hers! She’s not going—“
“Just do it! No time to argue!” Waylon glared at Josh. “I have assurances the fighter will be returned.”
Josh clasped Waylon’s hand. “Thank you!”
Waylon nodded. “I’ll see you soon, brother!”
Josh ran behind Tocol. They waved their arms, trying to get Matta’s attention. Her triangular fighter lifted two feet off the ground when they reached it. Tocol slapped his large hands down on the angular wing. Matta glanced to the side, her tan leather helmet swaying back and forth. Josh couldn’t hear her, but could tell she wasn’t happy.
The canopy lifted open. “I can’t carry another, you stupid oaf!” she yelled.
Tocol shook his head. “Get out! Boss said this one’s for Josh!”
“What?” Matta stared at them, her eyes wide. “He can’t take my ride!”
“He just did!” Tocol unhooked her harness and lifted her from the cockpit, her legs kicking in the air. He dropped her on the hangar floor. Matta landed on her feet and tumbled to the ground.
Josh reached down to help her. She slapped his hands away.
“You better bring her back!” she screamed. “You hear me?”
He grabbed her hands. “I will.”
She sprinted toward the Traveler.
Tocol hopped down from the ship and grabbed Josh by the shoulders. He pressed close to Josh until their noses nearly touched. The fire and engine gusts swirled around Tocol.
“I’ve grown to trust you, Josh,” he said. “Don’t make me regret it.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, the large man sprinted for the Traveler.
Josh turned around and boarded the small fighter. He stepped across the wings and jumped down into the cockpit. Slipping on the headset, he got his bearings for the controls. The cockpit seemed simple enough, more so than the Trident. The canopy shut, filling the cockpit with the sterile smell of recycled air. The basic control board flickered and came to life, a short-range sensor displaying one hundred MUs around the asteroid base. Boulders tumbled down to the floor of the hangar, the impact shaking the base of the asteroid.
Time to go, he thought.
The other Barracudas lifted off, heading for the exit on the far side of the asteroid. Josh wanted to check his sensors, find out the location of the incoming interceptors, but the rudimentary sensors on this tiny vessel did not stretch far enough. He had no idea how close the Zahl Interceptors were, but he knew they closed on his position. Besides, the magnetic composition of the asteroid caused all interior sensors to flicker in waves.
Josh eased back on the stick, the Barracuda fighter lifting off with ease. He looked through the main hangar entrance. A pair of interceptors fired on missiles shot by the defense system. Laser bolts flashed throughout the asteroid field. Josh smiled, swinging his fighter around to head out the back entrance to the hangar.
“Traveler, this is … Razor,” he said, realizing the transmission could be monitored. “Right on your six, boss.”
“Copy, Razor,” Waylon’s voice came back. “Any trailers?”
“Not yet,” he said, re-checking his sensors.
The Barracudas hit the asteroid field first, soaring away from the asteroid base on the opposite side of the Zahl vessel. Josh surveyed their surroundings as he exited the base, half expecting another Zahlian capital ship to be shadowing the asteroid like a predator. But nothing greeted them but more asteroids.
“We’re plotting our course,” Waylon said. “You good, Razor?”
“Copy,” he said, veering back toward the asteroid and bringing his vessel to a stop. “I’m covering your exit.”
Waylon paused. “You’re a good man, Razor. See you soon.”
Josh spun his fighter around halfway in order to keep an eye on the asteroid and watch the Barracudas exit. The space rippled in front of the Traveler. Josh thought of the crew on board he had briefly
been a part of, and wondered if he would ever see any of them again. But he had comrades and an entire planet he had to warn—if it wasn’t too late.
A lump formed in his throat as the Traveler shuddered, and disappeared. The Barracudas’ three fighters followed suit, disappearing into space.
He pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket, hoping he could read his handwriting. He keyed for the coordinates to Earth, piggybacking off the way station placed by the Tyral Pirates.
Movement flickered from the asteroid. Two interceptors emerged from the hidden hangar door. Josh pinged their distance with the simple sensors: seventy MUs. His stomach turned.
He slammed down on the throttle, keeping one eye on his rear sensors and the other on his navigation computer. Considering he would have to distribute power to the two onboard laser guns, he checked the power levels and decided against it. This weaponry would be like popguns against an interceptor. Making matters worse, the calculations for the curvature drive was taking much longer than his Trident. He should have been keying in the coordinates long before now. His fighter would be no match for Zahlian Interceptors.
Pulling back on the stick, he maneuvered into a cluster of rocks in hopes it would buy him time. The beeping of a missile lock attempt filled his ears.
He silently prayed he had enough skill to dodge these pilots. Checking his sensors, he grimaced. Fifty MUs.
An asteroid to his side shattered from laser fire. Red bolts surrounded him. A shot blasted his tail, sending the tiny fighter spinning. He swore as his head smacked the canopy. He launched into evasive maneuvers, trying to make his tiny fighter a small target.
The navigation computer pinged. Finally. He yanked back on the curvature drive. The small vessel shuddered as the space before him shimmered.
“Come on! Move!” he screamed.
Laser bolts shot around him. The missile lock warning wailed. A projectile appeared on his sensors.
“Oh, please no!”
He throttled forward, leaning as if he could will the fighter through the curve. The green wave shot over the fighter, encapsulating the vessel in its emerald embrace. His stomach dropped, the familiar shifting of a curvature formed.