Star Streaker Boxed Set 1 (Star Streaker Series)

by T. M. Catron

  For a state-of-the-art facility, the Waystation’s food services left much to be desired. Rance decided it was so that visitors would spend their imperial credits at the over-priced restaurants on the other levels.

  A woman walked by in a long, flowing dress, draped in a heavy shawl and tall, feathery hat that made her look overbalanced. Rance used her Zeus Corporation Optical Display—the lens implant in her eye—to zoom in on the woman’s hat. What she had thought were feathers were wisps of human hair styled and coerced into a fantastic shape. Rance snorted.

  “You know,” Solaris said as he watched the woman pass. “We made fun of our new partner, but we’re the ones who look conspicuous.”

  The crew had laughed long and hard when they found out Rance was meeting a man wearing a blue cape. Now, with all the other ridiculous outfits aboard the station, their contact would fit right in among the permanent residents. In their flight suits and with Rance wearing her grav boots, she and Solaris looked all business, even starchy by comparison.

  Solaris looked up while taking a sip of his drink. His mouth opened too widely, and he dribbled purple juice down his shirt.

  Rance snorted. “I don't think that’s the best way to fit in, Roote.”

  Solaris glanced around anxiously while dabbing his shirt with a napkin. “I think we’ve just been stranded here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Captain,” Solaris said, making a flying motion with his hand, “that our talented, vain pilot just flew away in the Streaker. Without us. Right by the window.”

  “What?”

  Hoping Solaris was mistaken, Rance abandoned her food and ran out of the cafeteria in the direction he pointed. In the corridor, a large observation window provided a view of the giant asteroid beyond. There, shining in the light of a faraway blue star, was her space cruiser flying away from Waystation 11 as if pirates were chasing it. Rance craned her neck to see as much of the surrounding space as she could, just in case pirates were pursuing her ship.

  The station’s arms blocked some of Rance's view, but everything looked peaceful. Other ships continued to fly around the space station. None of them flew in irregular patterns or otherwise seemed in distress.

  Solaris joined her at the window. He was four inches taller than Rance, who could touch the ceiling with her hand.

  “Why would James leave?” she asked as they watched the Star Streaker turn into a tiny bronze speck.

  Solaris sniffed. “I want to know why we can’t make a simple run like any normal smuggling outfit.”

  A large freighter moved between the Streaker and the window, blocking Rance’s view. “Triton’s beard,” she swore.

  Solaris grinned. “Did Triton have a beard?”

  “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

  “You looked tense.”

  Rance sighed. “I am a little.”

  Humor was their default response, especially during times of stress. Despite Solaris’ joking manner, he looked worried.

  Rance's comm beeped. She scrambled for her old handset, which was showing James’ face.

  “What in the Founders’ name do you think you are doing, James Fletcher?” Rance asked.

  Usually a cheerful man, James’ grim expression sent an uncomfortable flip flop through Rance’s gut. Solaris peered over her shoulder.

  “Captain,” James said, “I tried to comm you before I left, but there was some kind of interference.”

  Rance’s stomach flipped two more times. Whatever James was about to say wasn’t going to be good.

  “What is it?” Solaris asked. He moved instinctively around Rance, standing between her and the broad corridor, practically pushing her into a bulkhead. Rance waved him away. She didn’t see a reason to hide behind the ex-Galaxy Wizard. Solaris wasn’t her personal bodyguard.

  “Unity is headed this way,” James said.

  “Triton’s beard,” Solaris repeated. He must have been thinking what Rance was thinking—both of them were wanted, for different reasons. Solaris had deserted the Galaxy Wizards, an elite and secretive branch of the Empire Triton’s military. Rance was running from her powerful father and an arranged marriage back on her home planet of Xanthes.

  If Unity inspected the Waystation, they could both be caught.

  “The rest of the crew is with me,” James was saying. “We couldn’t contact you. And I didn’t want any, uh, weird questions.”

  The Streaker had had too many close calls lately. Anyone looking for the sleek, bronze ship was bound to recognize it. For a moment, Rance regretted not purchasing a dull, inconspicuous freighter for her life on the run.

  “Good call,” Rance said. “But Solaris could have used his talents.” Afraid that station control was eavesdropping, Rance didn’t dare mention that Solaris’ “magic” could disguise an entire crew and ship.

  “I thought he was still feeling drained after our last incident,” James said, referring to their scare on Prometheus where rebels had invaded the planet.

  Solaris nudged Rance. “How did you get out of trouble before you met me?”

  It was his favorite question. Rance glanced up at him. He was right. She could take care of herself, had been doing so for years. What had she done before she hired Solaris? Had she been taking advantage of him?

  “I was joking,” he said, misreading her silence.

  Rance frowned. “But you have a point. Okay, James, we’ll see you later. A Unity inspection isn’t a problem. Solaris, we need to find a shuttle.”

  “A shuttle sounds like a great idea, Captain,” James said dryly. “You don’t think you’ll be noticed drifting out from the space station by yourself?”

  “I appreciate your concern, James. Cooper out.”

  “As much as I hate to agree with James,” Solaris said, “he has a point, Captain. What are we going to do with a shuttle if the Streaker isn’t there to retrieve us?”

  “Who said we were going to be on the shuttle? I only said that in case someone was eavesdropping.”

  Solaris nodded. “What’s your real plan?”

  “I haven’t got that far yet. Any bright ideas?”

  “The easiest one is the also the most difficult.”

  Rance raised an eyebrow.

  “I could hide us, except James is correct. I don’t have the energy to disguise us both.”

  “But you’re hiding your own face right now.”

  “Barely. Disguising you is out of the question.”

  Rance snorted. “Why?”

  “Because—”

  The unmistakable sound of boots clomping down the hall echoed off the metal bulkheads. An overhead announcement asked everyone to cease movements and to be ready for an inspection.

  Chapter Two

  Rance glanced at Solaris as they strolled down the hall, pretending they hadn’t heard the announcement. “You seem tense.”

  “Aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Captain?” James’ voice asked.

  “Yes?” she whispered into the comm. “Why haven’t you jumped into hyperspace?”

  “I’m hiding in the station’s shadow for the moment. The docks aren’t the only exit.”

  “Oh?” Rance’s hopes rose.

  “There is a small, private airlock on the opposite side of the station that’s used for visiting officials. Section D. Can you get there?”

  Rance pulled up an overlay map of the station with her ZOD implant. The optical display showed her a map of all the public corridors and some of the private ones. James wasn’t kidding—the private dock was exactly opposite from where she and Solaris were standing—back through the central hub.

  “I think we can,” she said. “But you’ll have to give us time.”

  “Ah…” he said, distracted by something. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Why?”

  “Unity just spotted me. Radio when you’re close. Fletcher out.”

  Be careful, Rance wanted to say, but James was already gone. Worry t
ugged at a place deep in her chest. James had evaded Unity Dark Fighters before, but how would he circle back to dock with the station now that they were on his tail? She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. They had to follow the plan.

  Solaris’ eyes were fixed on the end of the corridor. Three Unity soldiers stood there, blocking their exit. According to Rance’s map, that was precisely the direction they needed to go.

  “Of course,” she muttered.

  “I’ll distract them,” Solaris said. “You slide past and I'll catch up with you.”

  “How are you going to distract them?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “Wouldn’t I be better at this?”

  “Since I’m not the one who’s in danger of being recognized, it makes sense that I do it.”

  “I don’t need you to save me, Solaris. I want to be the hero once in a while.”

  “Now you get high and mighty? A minute ago you wanted me to disguise you with magic because it was easier.”

  “A minute ago, I didn’t realize how much I take advantage of you.”

  “Er…” Solaris tore his eyes away from the guards to look at her. “You don’t take advantage of me. I was joking.”

  Without waiting for a comeback, Solaris took off toward the guards. He was done arguing about who would save the day.

  Irritated, Rance watched him go. She followed at a slower pace, ambling along as if she weren't in a hurry to be anywhere and merely taking a stroll. Solaris was talking to the guards now, angling so they were forced to turn their bodies away from Rance if they wanted to see him.

  She hurried, trying not to let her heavy boots clomp on the metal floor. Her efforts were in vain, but she set each foot down as carefully as possible, wishing she’d listened to Solaris and worn softer shoes.

  As Rance crept up behind the guards, Solaris chatted them up like they were old buddies.

  “The Winged Dragons are doing well this year, don’t you think?” he was saying. “It’s been quite the comeback after Talbuck left.”

  Solaris was referring to spacesuit races—exciting games with teams using souped-up propulsion packs to race from one ship to another. The races were brutal, and participants often died. James had entered a race once, on a dare. Rance had barely been able to breathe until it was over.

  One Unity soldier responded to Solaris. Rance slid behind the guards, trying not to touch the nearest one, who had positioned himself close to the wall. She eased between his light armor and the metal bulkhead, careful not to kick him with her oversized shoes.

  Solaris ignored her, keeping his eyes on the soldiers, not giving her away. The guards didn’t seem too interested in him as a person, just the race statistics now flowing out of his mouth.

  Rance had just breathed a sigh of relief when one of the soldiers turned. She smiled, hoping to act like she was supposed to be there and not hugging the wall like the fugitive that she was.

  “What are you doing?” the soldier asked. “Have you been scanned yet?”

  “Yes,” she lied. “We were the first, near the cafeteria observation deck.”

  Suddenly wary, the soldier angled himself so he could keep Solaris in sight, as well. “What are you doing here? The movement restrictions haven’t been lifted.”

  “Oh?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

  Solaris’ eyes darted from her to the soldiers. He was deciding how best to knock them out if the need arose.

  Even though Rance had seen Solaris take down armored soldiers with the foldable staff he carried in his satchel, she couldn’t let him try now. What if he were too drained? And then, if he did succeed, what would they do? Where would they go? More soldiers would come after them.

  “Check the logs,” Rance said with a shrug. “You’ll find us there.”

  The soldier muttered something, no doubt speaking into the comm built into his suit. Rance wanted some of those units for her crew. But other things like fuel and repairs and food had kept her from splurging on new equipment.

  The soldier removed a scanner from his belt and flipped through a few options. “You don’t mind submitting to another one, do you?”

  He held the scanner up to her eyes.

  Rance cringed inwardly, knowing it wasn’t a request she could refuse. “Not at all.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Solaris reaching behind to his satchel.

  “Hold it,” the other guard said.

  Solaris and Rance froze.

  The soldiers exchanged looks, and the first guard forgot the scanner in his hand. “Get somewhere and hide,” he said suddenly. Then, the two soldiers turned and hurried down the hall.

  Rance blinked in confusion, happy to have avoided a confrontation but puzzled about the abrupt change. She turned to Solaris. “Did you do something to them? One of your perception-altering tricks?”

  “No, nothing. They must have got new orders.”

  More eager than ever to find James, they hurried down the hall. A terrible sense of urgency spurred them on. Something was wrong.

  “Why do we always end up running?” Rance asked. “Why can’t we have a normal meeting?”

  “Do you want me to answer truthfully, Captain?”

  “It was mostly rhetorical, Roote.”

  They ducked through an open door, finding themselves in a narrow corridor with doors staggered evenly down the hall. Mundane, bland artwork covered the walls, making it look like the Waystation’s version of a hotel. Using the map overlay, Rance followed a series of turns to take them to the other side of the station while avoiding the central hub. They only met a few people who hurried past without making eye contact.

  Just as they had turned down a stark, ugly hall with heavy metal doors, Rance’s ZOD glitched out. It happened occasionally. Ever since Rance had hacked it to keep her father from tracking her, it sent pixelated lines through her vision at the most inconvenient times—usually when she was running or escaping. Lately, she’d wondered if the glitch had something to do with her heart rate, which was always elevated when it happened.

  Like now.

  With a thought, she rebooted the chip. It didn’t turn on. Frustrated, Rance paused, mentally retracing her journey through the space station. Signs would have helped, but they had entered a part of the station that didn’t have any. Which meant they were in the crew-only area.

  “Getting stopped here will invite awkward questions,” Solaris said.

  “We could pretend to be lost.”

  “There won’t be much pretending.”

  Rance turned for the nearest door. It hissed open with a whoosh of cold air, bringing them out near another observation window and a gathered crowd. This window faced the docks, higher up and farther away from the last time Rance had spotted them through the dome. Rance and Solaris pushed their way to the front for a better view, garnering them some angry looks.

  A blaze of yellow light shone from the docks, and Rance’s body grew cold with dread. There was only one thing that light could be from. She squinted, hoping she was wrong but knowing with a cold certainty that she was correct. There was a bright flash to the left, and the deck beneath them trembled. It could have been the hum of a generator, but it wasn’t.

  The docks were on fire.

  Chapter Three

  Two outer arms burned from within, their fires glowing yellow from the windows. Some of it escaped into space, snuffed out as it hit the vacuum like dozens of candles blown out over and over. Rance gasped. Had something happened to the Streaker as it flew away? Had James tried to evade Unity and caused an accident? Or worse, had they fired at him and caused him to crash into the station?

  The floor vibrated again. “James?” she asked the comm.

  No answer.

  “James Fletcher, respond.”

  When James’ face didn’t appear on the screen, Rance glanced fearfully at Solaris.

  “Maybe communications have been disrupted,” he said. “James said there was interference.”

  �
�Why though?”

  More people ran up the halls, more whispered voices. Like the other two guards, the Unity soldiers were regrouping, ignoring the station’s residents as they ran past. Rance and Solaris had just turned away from the window when an alarm sounded, blaring so loudly people covered their ears.

  Abruptly, it cut off.

  The screens lining the hallway flashed, and then striking red text scrolled across them with a warning message. An announcement echoed through the station, using the pleasant voice of the station's AI.

  “Attention, attention. We will accept your surrender. Lay down your weapons and line up along the walls. Attention, attention…” The message repeated over and over in that calm voice that chilled Rance to the bone.

  “Pirates,” Solaris said grimly. “The station is being attacked.”

  Rance groaned.

  “Well, surrendering is out of the question,” Solaris said.

  “We’ve got to make contact with the Streaker,” Rance said. She again attempted to raise James. Still no answer. “We have to get to that airlock. If James can’t get in touch with us, he’ll meet us there.”

  Without the map, they had to guess based on their last known location. They ran past another giant observation window, this one providing a stunning view of the outer hull.

  “Hey,” Rance said, halting Solaris.

  A distant star lit the space in front of them. Between it and the window, at least three enormous, repurposed Renegade ships had surrounded the station.

  As they watched, ten Unity Dark Fighters shot toward the larger ships. Nimble Scorpion fighters—the pirates’—exited the ships to meet them. The UDFs fired together, taking advantage of the few precious seconds in which the pirates had lowered their shields to release their own fighters.

  Blue and red streams of light streaked toward the first enemy ship—fire from the UDFs. They hit the Renegade in an explosion that lit up the entire stern.

  Only one had got through. The ship activated its shields, and the next blasts caused blue ripples as they impacted well away from their target’s hull. Unable to continue a barrage against the Renegade’s shields, the Unity fighters engaged the Scorpions that were now within range.