by L. E. Thomas
“Follow me on my mark,” Senza said, turning around. “March!”
They moved off the deck. From his peripheral vision, Austin saw all eyes still on them as they left the hangar deck. Stepping into the tight corridors of the carrier, he quickly reintroduced himself to the cramped living space onboard a Legion capital ship. He ducked under two pipes protruding from the wall as Senza led them around a corner, away from the officers’ quarters, and toward the berthing compartments reserved for enlisted starmen.
The doors to the berthing compartments dilated and revealed rows of bunks stacked three beds high. It smelled like urine. Senza moved through the rows until she reached the bulkhead.
“Scorpions! Halt!” Senza turned around as the Scorpions stomped their boots to the deck. She pointed to the left. “The five rows from here on are to be ours for the remainder of this voyage. Make yourselves at home. You are dismissed until dinner.”
The Scorpions stood in unified confusion as Senza dropped her duffle bag on the closest bunk and sat down. A moment later, the Scorpions snapped into action and moved for the closest bunks. Some card games broke out immediately, while others activated their tablets to start reading.
Bear slapped Austin’s shoulder. “No way I’m sleeping on the bottom bunk.”
Before Austin could respond, his friend yanked him toward the nearest trio of beds. Bear promptly tossed his bag on the top bunk and climbed his massive frame up onto the bed. Swinging his legs around, he locked his fingers behind his head and stared with a smile at the ceiling.
Austin shook his head and lifted his bag onto the middle bunk.
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Skylar asked.
Smiling, Austin picked up his bag. “You want me on the bottom bunk, I guess?”
“Thought you’d like sleeping on the floor.”
“Sure, Sky.” He slid onto the bottom bunk and exhaled. “How long’s this trip again?”
“Two days,” she said, climbing into the bed above him, “but only one night.”
Ignoring the stench of the berthing compartments, Austin took in a deep breath of the stale, putrid air and closed his eyes. The one good thing about transportation on someone else’s carrier was that they were just passengers. For the first time since arriving at the Scorpions’ Nest, he had at least a few hours off to do absolutely nothing.
The voices around him fell away as if moving to a great distance, and he allowed the joyous sensation of an unexpected nap to take hold.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Karda rocked through the upper atmosphere of the remote Legion moon known as Omeya. Austin glanced at the four Star Runners sitting across from him all clad in their nondescript black fatigues now standard to the Scorpions. A total of eight Star Runners filled the Karda’s interior with the remaining Scorpions packed into another ship destined for Omeya.
Major Cayo Wilkos grasped a handle on the ceiling as he stood behind the Star Runner piloting the Karda and faced the passengers. His body leaned as the Karda banked through turbulence. “We’ll be landing at Fortson Base on the outskirts of a mining town known as Gen’s Folly. Temperature is hot and humid, but I expect all of you to maintain uniform regulations whenever you’re on duty. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the Scorpions replied.
Austin resisted the urge to shake his head. After two days on board the Torch, the Scorpions had received little time for regular training. Instead, Wilkos filled the time with reminders about “regulations” and “discipline” as well as quizzes sent to their tablets. The assessments tested their knowledge of engagement protocol, evasive maneuvers, and more.
It had been a long two days.
When he wasn’t sending them his quizzes, Wilkos provided a history of the Omeya mining colony. Discovered uninhabited a century ago by the legendary scout Star Runners, a group Austin knew as being the pinnacle of the Legion Star Runners’ career, Omeya had served as one of the Legion’s most remote outposts inside the Fringe. Civilians looking to escape the hustle and bustle on the inhabited worlds, longing for the simple life of living on a remote mining world, became colonists. The population remained small at only a few hundred, and Wilkos said there was no sign it would grow. He added Omeya would be the perfect secluded place for the Scorpions’ first assignment away from the Nest.
“Once we arrive on base,” Wilkos continued, “we will head directly to a hangar set aside especially for us. This will be our home for the next few months until Command is convinced we are ready for deployment.” He smiled. “It’s our first assignment away from home, people. I expect you all to be razor-sharp at all times. Same rules apply here as on the Torch. No discussing the details of this squadron with the Fifty-Fourth Tizona and certainly not with the locals. Clear?”
“Clear!” the Star Runners said in unison as the Karda continued the descent.
Sitting next to Austin, Skylar nudged him and leaned close. “Stay frosty, right?”
Austin smiled. “Of course, Sky. Always.”
The Karda’s engines whined and strained as it moved into a steep turn before leveling out. Austin heard the landing gear lower into place. The thrusters gave one last whoosh of power, and the Karda touched down on Omeya. The ramp lowered. A rush of hot, humid air flooded into the compartment.
“Everybody out!” Wilkos yelled.
Skylar glanced at Austin as they stood and rolled her eyes. “Feels like South Georgia.”
Austin took in a breath of thick, sticky air. “Worse.”
With Wilkos screaming at them, the Star Runners ran out of the Karda and into the fading daylight on Omeya. Along the horizon, the cloudless sky burned a golden brown. Twenty yards away sat the other Karda with its ramp lowered. Austin saw Captain Manami Senza leading her group of the remaining Scorpions out onto the landing pad. Three massive steel hangars encircled the landing pads. Tall steel fences lined with razor wire surrounded the Fortson Base.
The officers led the Scorpions into the dark hangar on the left. It smelled of oil and fuel. Once all the Scorpions entered, Wilkos called them to attention. The massive hangar door closed behind them, leaving them in complete darkness.
“Scorpions,” Wilkos said, his voice echoing around the empty expanse of the hangar, “I would like to introduce you to your new babies—the Trident IV.”
The room illuminated, four large circular lights warming with a buzzing sound and shining down on the floor. Below sat a line of fifteen sparkling new Tridents painted black, with an image of a Scorpion on the rear stabilizers. Wilkos stepped out in front of the Star Runners, placing his hands on his hips. He nodded, gesturing toward the line of brand new Tridents.
“Faster than her predecessor,” Wilkos said, “the Trident IV is the latest in Legion technology. The rapid pulse lasers fire at the same pace as a Zahlian Interceptor. The optimized power levels allow quicker shroud recovery in battle, and new hull plating advances can reduce the effectiveness of all but the most powerful stunners. And did I mention she’s the fastest fighter in the fleet? She’s a prototype, so I expect you all to treat her well. In this new age of dogfighting, she should be able to show the Interceptors a new threat when war comes.”
Wilkos held his hand toward the Tridents. “Each of you has your own Trident assigned. You’ve been working hard this last year, and I’m happy to be your CO. Take the rest of the night. It’s yours. Captain Senza, grant passes to head into Gen’s Folly to those who desire it. Report back here at zero-five-thirty tomorrow for your flight briefing. Dismissed!”
The Star Runners hurried toward their Tridents, a hush falling over the group. Soon, excited conversations bubbled around the hangar as the Star Runners surveyed their new fighters.
Bear and Skylar ran off together, finding their Tridents side-by-side. Austin strolled along the line, observing the sleek paint job on each of the Tridents. At the end of the line, he saw his fighter. He paused, placing his hands in his pockets and taking in the sight of his new spacecraft. A ladder sat beside the no
se leading to the cockpit. Along the edge of the canopy, he saw white letters stenciled into the hull:
ROCK
Excitement built into his stomach like something he hadn’t felt in months. He grinned, reaching out and sliding his fingers along the Trident’s nose. Walking back along the length of the fighter, he allowed his hand to sweep under the fuselage and along the wings. The hull felt smooth under his skin.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the other Star Runners studying their fighters and talking to one another. He turned back to his fighter.
“Hi there,” he whispered.
Moving back toward the nose, he stood back and took in the sight. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of the loading screen on the Star Runners game back home and the hours he’d spent staring at the image of the Trident clashing with the Interceptor on the screen, dreaming of being part of the battles. On his Christmas tree back home, the Trident and Interceptor swung from the branches as the flashing lights twinkled. During his last holiday, he’d talked with Josh in front of the tree before their lives changed forever.
Josh, I wish you could see this, he thought.
Taking each step with care, he ascended to the cockpit and keyed the canopy to open. With a whistle of servos, the canopy hissed open and revealed a smell reminding Austin of a new car. He knew the fighters had to have been flown here, but the maintenance crew on the base had cleaned the cockpit so it looked like no one had ever sat in it. Placing his hands on the edge of the cockpit, Austin stared down at the perfect piece of technology.
Leaning back, he marveled at the Scorpion icon on his stabilizers. Ryker would have loved this, he thought. She should be here right now. Her talents would have been perfect in a squadron of the best Star Runners. It had been nearly a year since her death. Austin forced himself to remember the small details.
He thought of her smile.
The smell of her hair.
The scent of her suntan lotion on Oma.
The sound of her laugh.
A sadness pressed on his heart. Time made it harder to remember the details. Before, they had constantly been at the forefront of his mind. Now, the memories started to fade.
“I still love you, Ryker,” he whispered.
Leaning over the cockpit, he closed his eyes and stood on the ladder in silence.
“You alive up there?”
Austin opened his eyes and looked down. Bear and Skylar stood on the polished hangar floor staring up at him.
“Just introducing myself.” Austin stared back at the Trident. “She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Bear said, “she is. Do you think she’ll let you go out tonight?”
Skylar smiled at him. “Skipper doesn’t let us off the hook very often. We should go make the most of it, don’t you think?”
Austin patted the side of the Trident and closed the canopy. “See you tomorrow,” he said and turned to his friends. “All right. Let’s go.”
“Gimme another round!”
Austin shook his head as the tall, skinny bartender poured Bear another drink. He turned away from Bear and Skylar celebrating and took in the modest bar.
Four locals huddled around a circular table at the back of the room. A thick layer of smoke hung over their heads. Comic book drawings of scantily clad women and several maps covered the walls. A neon sign depicting an overweight man with a pipe glowed behind the bartender. The neon man held his hands at his side facing up, which Austin figured was supposed to be Gen and his “folly.”
When the bartender stepped in front of him, Austin nodded toward the sign. “Who is that supposed to be? Is that Gen?”
The bartender scowled. “How am I supposed to know? I just work here. Wanna ‘nother drink or not?”
“I’m good.”
The man snorted and moved toward a sink full of dirty glasses. Austin stared at him for a moment. The gruff bartender had been the third person to make him feel, well, unwelcome since they had arrived on Omeya. Earlier when they left Fortson Base, one citizen in a dirty gray coverall slammed into him on the street. The man reeked of body odor and alcohol—a lovely combination—but Austin tried to be polite. The man lunged at him, his eyes wide with anger, and had to be restrained by his friends. When Austin attempted to apologize for angering the man, one of his friends spit on Austin’s boot.
And now the bartender had treated him like crap.
Austin leaned toward Skylar. “What’s with this place?”
“I know,” Skylar said, wincing. “They can’t make a good drink worth anything.”
“Not what I’m talking about.”
Bear leaned on the bar, propping himself up with two of his muscular arms spread out across the damp surface. “You still upset you almost got beaten out there on the streets?” He stared at Austin with his eyes nearly closed. “Don’t worry, buddy. I got your back. You know that.”
“Wow.” Austin rolled his eyes. “I feel better already.”
Leaning back on the bar, Austin turned to face the rest of the room. He watched as a local shuffled across the floor toward a blue box on the wall. The dirty man wore the same stained coveralls as the man from earlier. Austin assumed all of the civilians they had seen since arriving were miners. After typing into the box, the man shuffled back to his seat. A moment later, music started playing out of crackling and popping speakers.
The music sounded like a strange combination of country and a symphony with a chorus mixed in at times. Tapping his feet, Austin imagined he was at a restaurant with his parents in downtown Atlanta. He remembered when they used to take him down there to visit the Olympic Centennial Park. Sometimes they would go to a game, while other times Dad would place a blanket out on the grass and they would lean back to gaze into brilliant blue skies over Georgia.
“Hey,” Skylar said, nudging his shoulder, “you awake?”
“Sure.”
“Whatcha thinking about there, tiger?” She smiled at him. “First time I’ve seen you look happy in a long, long time.”
Austin shrugged. “I don’t know. Just thinking about the old days, I guess. Earth is so far from here.”
“I don’t know.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I got you guys with me. Home doesn’t seem so far away.”
Austin looked at her as she pushed her blonde hair away from her face. Following the Battle of Atlantis, Skylar had asked him to come home with her to Florida. When he declined and decided to meet with Ryker on Oma, it had been one of the hardest decisions he had ever made.
“Did you have fun on your … last leave?” he asked.
She looked at him, her eyes sparkling in the neon light. Tilting her head, she studied his face for a long moment as the song ramped up. “Could have been better, I guess.”
Austin nodded, his eyes still on her. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
“I love this place!” Bear yelled, kicking his legs out from the stool and into the air.
Skylar turned around to face Bear. “Quiet down!”
The local miners at the circular table in the corner recoiled at the sudden outburst. Two stood and tossed bottles into the trash on their way out the door.
Austin leaned over Skylar. “I think you’ve had enough, man.”
Laughing, Bear shook his head and drained his bottle. “I could probably have one more.”
“No,” Austin said, shaking his head. He looked to the bartender. “Sir, would you mind not serving this gentleman another drink?”
The skinny man turned halfway around from the dirty glasses. “If he’s paying, I’m serving.” He turned back around, mumbling. “Be fine with me if he drinks himself silly and gets behind the stick of a Trident.”
Austin frowned. These people hate us. “Did I do something to piss you off, man?”
The bartender turned around, his jaw muscles flexing. “You Star Runners come in here, scare off my customers and then have the nerve to ask me what
you did? Finish your drink, hotshot.”
“Star Runners are here to protect you.”
“Right. You guys protect about as much as a hungry predator in a butcher’s shop.”
Austin shook his head, not understanding if his translator was working properly. “What happened here?”
“It’s always been this way since Jameson took charge of the Fifty-Fourth.”
“Jameson the CO here?”
The bartender widened his eyes with sarcasm as he continued cleaning a glass with a dirty rag that used to be white. “You are a smart one.”
“What happened?”
He set the glass down. “Things were fine at first, well, same as they’d always been. Star Runners come in here, spend credits and leave. But then Jameson and four Star Runners disappeared for a couple of months. We didn’t see them at all. Didn’t care much since they just create a lot of noise at the base. Things were nice and quiet, see?” Crossing his arms over his chest, the bartender seemed to gaze into a different time and place. “When they came back, they had changed. They became aggressive, even more arrogant. I didn’t think that was possible. They came in here starting fights and picking on the locals. Guess that’s the way the Legion is running things now?”
Austin felt his face warm. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen anything like that in my—”
“I got work to do,” the bartender interrupted him, walking to the other end of the bar.
In his experience, Austin had found Star Runners to be arrogant, sure, but never disrespectful to the civilians. He couldn’t imagine any Legion officers treating civilians poorly. Of course, he hadn’t been on many planets with other Star Runners. On Oma with Ryker, he had been too preoccupied to notice anything but her beauty.
“Hey, Sky,” Bear said, pulling Skylar closer and breaking into Austin’s thoughts, “I think we need to dance.”