by L. E. Thomas
Austin swallowed, fighting back his emotion. “After all this time, I could have been looking for her. I could have saved her. We should have done something, but we just left her out there. It’s been … it’s been so long, sir.”
“I know.”
Nubern stared at him for a long moment then nudged Austin back toward Painter’s Rock. “Eat something, will you? I know you’ve got to be hungry.”
Austin shook his head. “I don’t feel like eating.”
“All the more reason that you should eat.”
Leaning against Painter’s Rock, Austin opened the metal box and found the meal Nubern had promised. He ate the sandwich in silence and took a long drink of water. Nubern had been right. Being out in the plains for the afternoon had made him thirstier than he first thought. He moved on to the four cookies.
“I don’t know how you did it, sir,” he said, chewing on the delicious butter cookies, “but these do taste like home. Want one?”
Nubern tapped his belly. “Already had my share while I was driving out here.”
Austin nodded toward the dark horizon lit solely by the Omeya moon. “Beautiful out here, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Nubern started reminiscing about places he had been stationed and previous assignments he’d had during his career. From crazy wingman to terrible commanding officers, Nubern relayed his tales like a master storyteller. All they needed was a fire and some marshmallows. Listening to Nubern’s stories was like being privy to the deleted scenes of his favorite movie for the first time; it provided a new outlook on the man he already admired.
The wind rattled the sandwich bag. Austin shut the box and sighed. “You’re right about it getting colder out here. I’ve never been out here this late.”
“Yeah.” Nubern leaned against the rock.
“How did you actually end up out here? Did you really come out to Omeya to give me this news?”
Nubern nodded. “I did. Once I saw that image in my briefing, well, I volunteered to see you. They needed someone to deliver this examination equipment and, believe me, I’ve got plenty of leave accrued. A bunch of officers owe me favors.” He looked at him. “You going to be okay?”
Austin nodded. “Going to have to be, right?”
“I loved her, too.” He shook his head. “Not the same way, of course. I loved her like a daughter. There was always something special about Ryker even before she finished Flight Academy. She had an aggressive way about her, but it never came across as grating. It was confidence. Pure confidence. From the beginning, I thought there was something special about her. Not that it’s my place, but I was very happy when you two started … you know.”
Austin pursed his lips. “What’s happened to her?”
Nubern took in a long, deep breath. “Ryker had a greater love of the Legion than anyone I had known in a long time, son. For her to wear the Zahlian uniform … hurt like hell to see it. I can’t imagine what she’s been through. There might not be anything left of our girl.”
“No.” He shook his head, his chin trembling. “She’s strong.”
“Everyone has a breaking point, son.”
“Not her.” Austin looked at Nubern and grabbed his shoulder. “Until I know for sure, I’ll never give up.”
Nubern stared into Austin’s eyes, nodding. “Then I won’t, either.”
Tilting his head, Austin smiled and pointed at the metal box that held his sandwich. “Did you come out here just for the sandwich?”
“Of course.” Nubern stood and offered a hand, helping Austin to his feet. “Those cookies are worth two trips.”
A flicker of movement in the sky caught Austin’s right eye. Turning, he saw a large vessel flying in. He pointed toward the ship
“I didn’t know a freighter was coming through today.”
Nubern took a step forward, his face grim. “That’s no freighter.”
A pinging sound rang from the front pocket of Nubern’s uniform. Pulling out the communication device, he pressed the transmit button.
“Major Nubern here.”
“Major,” Wilkos voice crackled through the device. “I think you’d better return to base immediately.”
Nubern glanced at Austin, the tension lines deepening around his eyes.
“Trouble?” Nubern asked.
“I don’t know,” Wilkos said, exhaling into the microphone. “The Formidable has just entered orbit. They claim to have our replacement squadron, and they are launching right now. The Scorpions are to leave within the hour and depart Omeya on the ship.”
Nubern nodded. “We’re on our way.” He thrust the communication device back into his pocket. “We need to go.”
Austin’s jaw dropped. “The Formidable?” His heart raced at the mention of his first carrier assignment. “What’s this mean?”
“It means the Scorpions have been activated,” Nubern said, a tight smile forming on his face, “and, for now, I’m coming with you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A massive, swirling cloud formed over the ocean. From the observation lounge on the ARC Enforcer, Rampa peered down at the green and blue world of Nesteel. He imagined the storm collecting power on the ocean’s surface, sending powerful gusts of wind and horizontal rain throughout the atmosphere. Even from high orbit, the storm was impressive; he watched the clouds turn as the system moved toward land.
He sighed, allowing his gaze to drift over the area toward the capital of Cantok. The might of the Zahl Empire had squashed the recent revolution on the planet, as it had so many times before. But he knew the truth, sensing the Empire’s inner decay so many other leaders would never admit. The exemplary machine of the Empire needed growth and expansion, or it would crumble into dust.
His blue eyes surveyed the remote location of the underground complex where he had carried out the first stages of the secret program for the admiral. While he tried to develop drone technology impervious to stunners and system disruptors, a stolen mind-altering technology from a Legion dark world changed the game. Thoughts of those early days flashed in his mind, when he vied with Sector Regent Knox Tulin for attention and funding for their very different plans on returning the Empire to its former glory. Through a twist of fate, and the good fortune of an incredibly lucky pilot—undoubtedly an undercover Legion Star Runner—who stole Knox’s prize right from under his nose, Rampa and his project had been granted an opportunity to shine.
But it was all about to come crashing down around him.
With his stomach turning at the thought, he recalled the recent escape of his greatest prospect, Defector One. He never openly spoke of their former identities, but Lena Janas had an impressive record in her years as a Star Runner. Older than Ryker Zyan, Lena had the chops to become a loyal Zahlian pilot. The preparation work seemed to do its job, and the implant succeeded magnificently. He had watched with pride as Lena completed her missions with increasing efficiency.
But it had all been a farce, a ruse to lull him into a false security about his new pilot program. As he lifted some of her restrictions, Lena used her newfound freedoms to begin a one-sided romantic relationship with one of his engineers and capitalized on it to prompt her escape. Worse, the traitor had convinced Ryker to flee with her.
Rampa covered up the escape, hiding the events from his commanding officers who were far from Nesteel. Since the admiral had granted him use of the Enforcer, the ship’s three best pilots had been sent on a hunting mission to the three star systems on Lena’s last known trajectory. With any luck, they would eliminate evidence of his failure.
The escape compounded his recent loss of the moles within Legion space. In an effort to gauge their abilities and the effectiveness of his implants, he’d sent his initial subjects on small missions to destabilize their locations. He wanted to see if they would be successful on lower profile targets before the project went wide, but only a handful of his former moles remained. On one remote world, Omeya, he lost contact with an entire team.
>
Rampa couldn’t allow these setbacks to become public. His ascension into the admiral’s inner circle had been miraculous. He had been born on the Frontier world of Maraneek, mired in a meaningless war between small-minded native factions. When his mother died in a bombing attack, his father went mad. Embarking on a murderous rampage, his father left him a week before the Zahl Empire mercifully arrived to save Maraneek from itself. If they had arrived the year before, his parents would still be alive.
Most of the upper echelon had no idea of his humble beginnings, and if they did they would have cast disapproving stares and whispered words of incompetence. But he possessed something the rest of them did not: an actual understanding of the greatness of the Zahl Empire. The upper class had been born into it, having no idea of the horrors and darkness that existed in the rest of the galaxy.
No, they mustn’t discover details of his recent failure.
Rampa clenched his jaw and rubbed his fingers across his smooth chin. He would not make such a mistake again. Security measures would be strengthened. To avoid another escapee, he ordered his assistant, Daren Suh, to increase the power of the implant’s ability to detonate if the signal was being jammed, just as Lena had done. He wasn’t sure if Suh could anticipate all forms of potential jamming, but he hoped the technicians were up for the challenge. If this program were to continue, the gloves would have to come off.
Suh wanted Rampa to execute Ryker and start over with the new batch of two dozen pilots acquired from the Fringe, some of whom were Legion Star Runners. But the next batch had to be perfect … and he couldn’t give up on Ryker.
Removing her from flight status, Rampa planned on increasing Ryker’s treatments and ordered her to the simulation pod for the foreseeable future. The recent treatments had already taken effect, but he had to make sure. The ignorant Suh said it was overkill. It was an assessment Rampa had not asked for and, if there was time, he would make sure Suh was punished for his unwanted comments. Perhaps there would be time later; he could even test out the next round of hallucinogens on Suh.
Rampa smiled. Yes, that would erase the stink of his recent failure from his mind.
Tapping the viewport with his fist, Rampa took one last look at the storm that was about to make landfall. He thought of the thousands of coastal villages about to be wiped out as the storm crashed into civilization. The natives would hide in feeble structures and attempt to weather nature’s onslaught, but they had no chance. Those with families had been given advanced warning and could easily have left their homes.
Stupid, he thought with a shake of his head. Stubborn decisions were going to cost thousands of lives. In all the worlds he had seen embraced by the Zahl Empire, people never seemed to know when they faced an unstoppable force. Man should learn to accept the inevitable.
Spinning around on his heel, he marched out of the lounge and headed toward the lab where Ryker waited.
“Turn off the cameras,” Rampa said, while moving towards the door. “I do not want to be disturbed.”
Suh glanced down at his tablet and turned back to the line of six monitors. “Sir, it will be difficult to assess the efficiency of the recent treatments without visual evidence. Are you sure you want the cameras turned off?”
Rampa sighed and turned to face his assistant. “When did this become an operation where we discuss direct orders?”
Suh’s face reddened. “Uh, sir, I didn’t mean to—”
Taking one long step forward, Rampa peered into Suh’s eyes. “The recent incident has forced me to recalculate the imperative need for breaking the individual’s spirit. Only then can we hope to rebuild on the natural talents of the pilot. The purpose of the past few days have been to bring us back to square one on this particular subject. I will enter and assess her ability to withstand a renewed round of treatment. Understood?”
Staring at the floor, Suh licked his lips as he apparently tried to decide what more he could say. “With all due respect, you received funding because you told Command we would be able to quickly transform these subjects into efficient pilots. This is taking too long.”
“We are in the research and development phase. It takes time to improve any process.”
“I wonder if we should destroy this subject and move on to the new batch.”
Rampa’s jaw dropped. “No. I have told you before that we will do no such thing. This one is different. She’s special.”
Suh met his eyes and stared at him. “‘She?’ The subject is no longer an asset, Captain. One who has reached the end of her usefulness. I believe you have become—”
“Stop it!” Rampa snapped. The three other technicians in the room glanced in his direction. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and cursed himself for losing his temper. “I am in charge here. I will decide when a subject has reached its full potential. Is that understood?”
Suh offered one sharp nod. “Yes, sir. I apologize.”
Rampa nodded toward the door. “Kill the cams on your way out.”
The technicians deactivated the control boards and the monitors went dark. Suh was the last one to leave, taking one last glance at Rampa standing alone in the laboratory observation room before he closed the hatch. Rampa walked over and bolted it.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his nerves. Perhaps Suh was right. Maybe Ryker should be destroyed, and they should move on. Maybe they had learned all they could from her. But did executing Ryker mean his entire project had failed? Were the months of planning and research just a waste?
He thought of her dark eyes, the kindness they projected on the parade platform on NPT-six-two-three. It was no secret he relished in being a part of the parades, witnessing a planet’s first steps in the transition towards joining the great Zahl Empire. When he couldn’t sleep, a voice of reason reminded him that the excitement he felt during the parade might have projected false feelings from Ryker.
Still, there had been something between them that day, hadn’t there? It wasn’t like him to misread such things, but the icy glare she usually gave him thawed that day. She’d touched an inner part of him as they stood together on the platform. When they turned to leave, she looked at him with a faint smile before they headed back to the shuttle to return to the Enforcer.
Yes, there had been something. The traitor Lena had coerced Ryker into attempting escape, which was why he needed to start over. Ryker had potential. Suh was an idiot.
Rampa moved to the door leading to the laboratory. He straightened his flawless crimson uniform and took a deep breath. Pushing the door open, he strolled into the bright florescent lights.
The restraints pressed into her frail body. In the recent battery of tests, her legs had lost some form. Soon, she would be able to return to her physical training. Under guard, of course.
Ryker’s eyelids fluttered as he entered. Rampa moved to the stool next to her and reviewed Suh’s recent notes on her progress. Suh had written the subject “showed no signs of resistance” and had spiraled into a “depression,” often requesting death. As he read on, he realized Suh had written enough documentation on Ryker’s apparent descent into madness to grant him another advanced degree from the Academy.
“You …”
Rampa looked up and saw Ryker staring at him. Her beautiful eyes had sunken into her pale skin. Dried tears formed crusty tracks down her face. Her full lips were cracked and split. Had Suh stopped giving her water?
Straightening his expression, Rampa grew rigid. I have to keep up appearances, he thought. After all, I am her superior officer.
“Yes,” he said, clearing his voice, “I have returned. I am happy to say you have reached the end of the reintroduction to your treatment. Soon, we will return to training in the simulation pods. If that goes well, I would be happy to allow you time for physical training.”
Ryker looked at him, but it was as if she stared through him. Her eyes held no emotion, no expression whatsoever. It was unlike the fiery woman he had met when they first brought her
to Nesteel last year.
Rampa tilted his head and leaned over her. Using his index finger, he pressed against her eyebrow and looked at the red socket.
“Do you require water?”
Ryker nodded with a faint, slow bow. Her eyes flickered, threatening to roll back into her skull. He swallowed.
Perhaps we have gone too far this time.
He pulled a half-empty water bottle from below the examining table and pressed the straw to her parched lips. Ryker drank until the bottle was empty and closed her eyes.
“Thank … you,” she whispered.
Rampa reached out and rubbed her shoulder. Then he swallowed and pursed his lips. “There has been some discussion about terminating you and ending your service to the Zahl Empire. Perhaps that would be the logical thing to do.”
For the first time since he’d entered, Ryker’s eyes opened wide.
He leaned toward her. “You wouldn’t want that, would you? Your recent deception hurt me beyond words, but I don’t honestly believe that you wanted to leave. The other one talked you into it. You have to see how futile any resistance to the Empire is, right? I have spent countless hours trying to convince you of the righteousness of our cause—much more time than I spent with Defector One. What about our time on the parade platform? You’ll notice I didn’t bring One with me. I brought you. You are the one into whom I have placed all my hope. I can’t believe you would just toss all that away.”
Rampa grabbed her hand. “I want this project to be successful. You have to be successful. I have lost my other assets. You are the last of the first generation, and I am fearful of telling my superiors. More are coming, but you have to be the one who makes it. I need you, Ryker.”
He stood over her, studying her body. “We have had our difficulties, but I know you won’t let me down.”
Leaning over, he kissed her on the forehead. He rubbed his hands through her matted hair.