by L. E. Thomas
“What?” Austin turned around, but it was too late. A vicious lightning shot across his control board. He winced and felt the fighter shudder.
A glow appeared around the Trident, and he passed through a curve to the dark side of the moon. All systems of his fighter had shut down. Other defeated Tridents floated in the darkness with only their position lights visible. Austin stared at them, his jaw dropping.
Had he just been defeated?
Shaking his head, he replayed the brief dogfight. He had stayed on Marcos’ wing just as he was supposed to do. Propping his elbow on the side of his dark cockpit, he stared at the moon.
If this had been a real battle, he would be dead.
He exhaled.
Dead.
A familiar feeling crept into the back of his mind, reminding him of the time he had defeated Ryker, better known at the time as the “Scorpion,” on the servers back home. He received so much acclaim for his victory when all he had done was get lucky with a blind missile shot. He used to wonder if he were good or just lucky. If Ryker were still alive, she would have been selected for this new squadron of the best Star Runners in the Legion. Not him.
He listened to the gamma wave as he waited for the signal for the end of the exercise.
A small team of six “grease lykers” scurried out onto the hangar deck as the Tridents landed. Austin had listened to the rest of the practice engagement. To his surprise, Austin heard Crone lead Z-Squadron to a narrow victory. Bear and Skylar had survived along with Sorn. The rest of the defeated Star Runners floated in the moon’s orbit until the engagement ended.
His canopy opened with the strain of multiple servos. He unhooked his helmet, staring at the dark control board.
“You all right, sir?”
Austin glanced to his left. One of the maintenance crew moved the ladder to the side of his fighter and climbed to the top. He was a young man, a thin layer of peach fuzz covering his cheeks. His eyebrows arched in concern as he stared.
“I’m all right,” Austin said finally, standing in the cockpit. Sweat caused the inside of his pitch-black flight suit to slither around his back. Glancing down, he missed the Tizona blues. Instead of the different squadron colors on the flight deck he had grown accustomed to seeing, all the Star Runners wore the solid black of the Scorpions. Wilkos said it promoted unity in the squadron, but Austin had seen little to speak to that effect.
He sighed and looked down at the maintenance crewman. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, sir.”
Despite a dark mood hovering over his mind, Austin smiled. “What’s your name?”
The crewman’s body went rigid, his blue eyes widening. “Starman Greg Earl, sir.”
Austin raised his hand in front of him. “You’re not in trouble, Starman Earl.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Just wanted to tell you I appreciate you checking on me.” Austin shrugged and climbed down the ladder. “Not everyone gives a crap enough to ask.”
“Crap, sir?”
Austin sighed. “Never mind.” He nodded toward the Trident. “She’s all yours.”
Making his way across the hangar deck carrying his helmet, he heard other Star Runners celebrating. Austin pushed the sounds from his mind, focusing instead on what had just happened out there. How could he have been so quickly and utterly defeated? Where had the missiles come from? He had been right in his position near his wingman. It happened so fast.
“I thought Rock was supposed to be something good!”
Austin stopped walking. Turning, he faced Dimas Sorn. The Star Runner stood next to his Trident with his hand on the fuselage. With his tanned skin and shiny hair sticking to his skull like he used a bucket of gel, Sorn looked like a guy Austin could have seen selling clothes at the mall. Bear said the former Tarnex Star Runner had been on three tours, but Sorn looked about the same age as Austin.
Sorn glanced over his shoulder as if to verify he had the attention of the other Star Runners leaving their Tridents. Satisfied, he turned back to Austin with a smirk. “Glad you’re not on my wing, dumb ass. You let poor Sunshine bite it a couple of seconds after we engaged. Nicely done.” He clapped once, paused a moment, then clapped again.
“Let’s hear it for Rock,” he said as he continued clapping. “Woo!”
Austin clenched his teeth and marched toward Sorn.
“Knock it off!” Marcos yelled, running from his Trident.
Sorn raised his hands in a mock surrender. “Oh, no! The two losers are going to beat me up after class. Ooo!”
Austin halted in front of Sorn, their eyes meeting. “You got something to say to me? Then say it.”
Sorn took a step closer, his six-foot-four frame towering over Austin. “I think I already said it.”
Austin held his breath, tightening his grip on the helmet. If he wanted to, he could smash the helmet over Sorn’s face and knock his teeth out.
Sorn’s lips curled back over his giant teeth. “Go ahead and do it. See what happens.”
Several other Star Runners gathered around them. Austin swallowed, his temper falling with the sudden attention from all the eyes on him. Bear pushed through the crowd, his face red.
“Hey!” he yelled, coming to a stop next to Austin. “What’s going on?”
“That’s a good question,” Austin said, never taking his eyes off Sorn. “This guy’s been on our ass since we arrived. I want to know why.”
Sorn eyed Bear for a heartbeat before turning to Austin. He shook his head slowly. “You don’t deserve to be here. This is supposed to be a squadron of the best. Other than three newbies who got on board because they know someone, we are the best.” He took a step closer, his hawk-like nose nearly touching Austin’s. “I heard you’ve got a recruiter that you’re best friends with and he hooked you up with this job. He gives you special treatment, gets you all these plush assignments, and people start thinking you’ve got talent when it’s all been fixed for you. This guy, this recruiter, he like your sugar daddy or something?”
“I didn’t ask for anything,” Austin said through clenched teeth. “I’ve earned everything I got. No one did anything for me.”
“You don’t know what he’s been through,” Bear said, glancing at Skylar. “What we’ve all been through.”
“So you’ve had a tough tour, and you think everyone should roll out the red carpet for you,” Ricardo “Spike” Jardine said, stepping next to Sorn and running a hand through his fiery red hair. “Maybe some of us have paid our dues for years to get to this point, and we don’t like seeing young punks coming in here acting like you own the place. Giggles is right; you haven’t earned it.”
“Right,” Sorn said, hissing like a snake as his eyes bore into Austin’s. “Maybe you and your recruiter got some other kinda special relationship … maybe he’s making up for your deadbeat dad abandoning you on whatever worthless rock you came from.”
Austin felt something snap inside. A temper flared within him like a volcano shooting for the surface. He gripped his helmet, hard. Before he could do anything, Bear dropped his helmet and shoved Sorn back with both hands. The Tarnex Star Runner stumbled back. Bear hurled his fist forward, striking Sorn across the side of the face.
Austin lurched forward but felt arms wrapping around his shoulders and restraining him. The Scorpions merged into a mass of struggling bodies. Some tried to break up the potential fight. Others decided to take action.
“Let me go!” Austin yelled, struggling to break free.
“Cool it, man!” Marcos shouted over the chaos.
“Damn it! Let me go!”
A laser bolt fired into the air, the sound bringing a sudden silence over the hangar deck. The crowd of Star Runners parted. Major Wilkos stepped into the center of the group, holstering his weapon as he glared at each one of them.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked.
Seething, Austin shook off the hands restraining him. He stared at Sorn, wishing he had leaped across the hang
ar deck to smash the guy’s face when he had the chance. Wilkos stepped toward Austin.
“Something you have to say, Rock?”
Austin swallowed. “No, sir.”
“You think just because you got your ass handed to you out there that you can come back to my hangar deck and start a brawl?” He shook his head. “This isn’t the local tavern and this sure as hell ain’t no time or place for a fight. You’re a Scorpion now! You all act as a team. You have to be better than this!”
“Sir, I don’t think—”
“Shut up! I don’t remember asking you a question!” He stepped back, allowing his eyes to fall on the entire group. “I witness anything like this again, the parties responsible are going to have an accident in an airlock and take a free walk in space. You got that? I have no idea what kind of paper doll nonsense was allowed on your last assignments, but it stops here. Right now. Got it?”
“Yes, sir!”
Wilkos crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, run. One of you screws up like this, you all get punished. Drop your helmets and flight tablets and run. I want you running till I say stop. You got that? Run!”
The helmets crashed to the ground, and the Scorpions took off still wearing their full flight suits. Sweat dripping from his face, Austin jogged with Bear and Skylar.
They ran until several Star Runners puked on the hangar deck, but none stopped running for long.
“Enough!” Wilkos yelled. “Hit the showers. You smell like sewer rats.”
The Scorpions trudged towards their helmets, left in an unorganized pile near the Tridents. All of them gasped, sucking down oxygen as if they had been drowning. Jogging in the full flight suit and boots had been like running in the Georgia heat with a trash bag tied around your body. Austin felt sweat running down his skin and filling his boots. His muscles ached, his lungs burning from the running. He wasn’t sure how long they had jogged, as he had tried to think of other things. After a few minutes, his entire world consisted of the Star Runner in front of him and the voice in his head telling him to stop running.
He picked up his helmet and tablet, taking a deep breath as he shot a sideways glance at Sorn. His perfect hair was drenched and the smirk had vanished. He didn’t even look up. Someday, Austin was going to find out why the guy had such a hatred for him and his friends.
“Rock!”
Austin looked toward the major. “Yes, sir!”
“Front and center!” he yelled from the end of the line of Tridents. “I want to talk with you!”
Embarrassed at being called out, Austin glanced at the other Star Runners. But they didn’t notice. Apparently the run had exhausted all of them too much to care about Austin’s scolding.
He halted in front of Wilkos and clicked his heels, saluting the major.
Wilkos didn’t move for a moment, the black sword tattoo on his neck swelling. He returned the salute and sighed, glancing at the others leaving the hangar deck. When the final Star Runner exited the floor and only the working maintenance crew remained, Wilkos nodded.
“Need to speak with you frankly, Lieutenant.”
With Wilkos’ need for discipline, Austin knew better than to speak until asked a question.
“If we are going to continue working together,” the major said, touching his mustache with two of his fingers, “I think we have to get something straight. I don’t want to see any fights between my Star Runners. Understood?”
Austin said nothing.
“You may speak freely.”
He swallowed. “I understand, sir.”
“What happened out there?” Wilkos asked, the tone of his voice shifting from authoritative to something resembling concern.
“I stayed on Sunshine’s wing as instructed. I got hit by a blind missile shot. I guess … I should have kept a better eye on my scope.”
“Hmm.” Wilkos pursed his lips. “I think the reliance on your scope is the problem. I checked your file.”
Oh, great—my file.
“Seems you’ve seen action since you were a recruit in flight school, yes?”
“That is correct, sir.”
“An incident with your instructors and you participating in a skirmish on a dark world.”
Austin winced. A “skirmish” on a dark world was not how he would have described the Tyral Pirate attack on Atlantis in an attempt to take over Earth, but he held his tongue.
“After that,” Wilkos continued, “you served on the Formidable with distinction until your file was … deleted. I did a little digging, and they listed you as ‘deceased.’ They didn’t elaborate to me what happened to you on this assignment. You are the only one of my Scorpions who didn’t need a cover story to join this squadron. Care to explain?”
“With all due respect, I don’t think I am at liberty to say, sir.”
“I see.” Wilkos took a deep breath. “Anyhow, I read your experience has left you with precious little combat time during a system disruptor detonation.”
Austin frowned. “A disruptor was fired during the skirmish on Earth.”
“Yes, but that was a minor disruptor designed to mask rudimentary signals on a dark world. Systems disruptors have advanced recently and continue to improve. Capital ships on both sides are now capable of firing powerful disruptors to scramble all the sensors in a star system, and they’re getting stronger all the time. Because of the rumors of stealth ships being nearly invisible to sensors, I have been told maximum system disruptors are the way of the future and the reason we all need to sharpen our dogfighting skills until we are razors.”
Austin thought of his previous experiences in combat. His first experiences were apparently in his standard file, but Command had classified Mission Wraith at the highest level. While in the Wraith, he had done little dogfighting while completing his mission. In fact, he had been trying to flee and happened to take some lucky shots at the fleeing ARC. Wilkos was right; he hadn’t done much fighting without his scopes.
“I understand, sir.”
For the first time, Wilkos smiled. “I know you don’t like to lose, and today, you lost. I don’t give a crap about a Star Runner who likes to lose. You, Bear, and Cheetah are the youngest on the Scorpions. You three were selected because it was thought your amount of battle time at such a young age would be beneficial to the overall squadron. But I need you to study harder. Over the next few months as we train on this backwater moon, you need to put in more work than ever before. Can you do that, Lieutenant?
Austin nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ll give you everything I’ve got.”
A cloud fell over the major’s face, and he stared unfocused at nothing in particular. “The news reports say differently, claim we are in an era of peace not experienced in a generation. But I know a war’s coming. They might not say so now, but they hate us for resisting their invasion generations ago. Every moment we exist is a reminder to the Empire of their failure. Sooner or later, they’re going to fight. I can’t explain it but I feel it in my bones. When it comes, we’ll be first to respond. If all the rumors of stealth ships are true, we’ll be on the front lines and I want us to be ready.”
Austin smiled. “We will be, sir.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The crosshair went red in an instant. Austin pulled the trigger, unleashing the simulated missile into his target.
“Damn it!” Sorn yelled over the gamma wave, his voice screeching in the earpiece.
Austin smiled as he shot past the Trident he’d just taken out of the “dogfight.” The craft shimmered as it opened the automatic curve and disappeared.
“Rock, got two on your tail,” Skylar said.
With his sensors useless thanks to the simulated disruptor, Austin looked over both shoulders. Two Tridents, nearly touching, closed on his six. “I got it, Cheetah.”
“Moving in,” she said. “Pull up—help me get the shot in two … one—Now!”
Austin yanked back on the stick, the stars swirling across his Trident’s nose. The harmless blue bolts
illuminated the darkness behind him. Come on, Skylar, don’t let’em get me again.
“Got one!” she yelled. “You still have a trailer.”
Pushing forward and left on the stick, Austin maneuvered into a downward spiral in the opposite direction he had been traveling. A bolt hit his wing, simulating a drop in his shields. He kept a loose eye on the systems. His Trident was good, still operational.
“You okay, Rock?”
“Peachy!” He glanced over his right shoulder, saw the bandit close on his tail. This Star Runner’s good. “Trailer’s still back there!”
No response came over the gamma wave.
“Cheetah?”
He swallowed. Looks like he was the last remaining member of his squadron. Including the bandit who took out Skylar, he knew at least two fighters now tracked him.
Searching the stars for inspiration, he lingered on the moon to his left. Mission parameters prevented him from heading there, out of safety for the Star Runners. He grinned, the moon enticing him.
He banked left, heading straight for the moon. Burying the throttle, he diverted more energy into the engines. The laser banks wouldn’t last long with no power, but it was worth the risk. Once he passed fifty MUs to the moon’s surface, he would violate mission parameters and be disqualified. But if he could move parallel to the line, perhaps his trailers would pass over. Without sensors, the real trick would be knowing the line’s location.
The Trident’s engines rumbled his seat, the stick vibrating under his fingers. The bandits stayed right on his tail. The trick is working so far.
Blue laser fire filled the space around his Trident. He rolled, trying to make his fighter a difficult target while keeping his eyes on the moon. The surface approached, dominating the view out of his canopy.
A little farther, he thought, as he bit his bottom lip. Almost there.
Two bolts depleted the remainder of his rear shields. One more shot and he’d be done.
Just one more second—now!
Austin killed the throttle and pushed the stick right. The moon moved out of view as his Trident shot for deep space. He swiveled his head to stare behind him.