by L. E. Thomas
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Half Title
A Note from the Author
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Share the Series
About the Author
Series Links
A novel by L.E. Thomas
Copyright © 2015 Shadow Max Publishing
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form without written permission of the Publisher. Brief quotations may be used for inclusion in articles published for noncommercial use including written news articles and reviews. For permission requests, write to [email protected], addressed
“Attention: Permissions Coordinator”
All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover art by Andrei Bat.
For my wife.
Author’s Note
The first trilogy in the Star Runners’ universe has been one of the most exciting projects I have ever completed. I hope it brings you joy and a little escape. It would never have been possible without the support from my family and all of the emails from readers who have enjoyed the adventures of Austin and the Tizona Squadron. I have marveled at the range of questions, from who Austin would fall in love with to how the Galactic Legion government operated—thank you to all who sent messages. I love hearing from you guys. I will keep you posted on what’s next in the universe at www.StarRunners.net or on social media.
A special thank you goes out to the beta readers who helped with the final adjustments for Star Runners: Mission Wraith. Your support has meant more than words could ever begin to express.
For now, stay frosty!
L.E. Thomas
December 2015
Fadre Gree was not his real name.
He continued every day as if he were one of the Zahlian engineers. The staff dressed in their civilian clothing lined up in pairs behind the shiny black doors of the elevator taking them deep into Zone Ninety. A man behind him cleared his throat. Gree kept his gaze on the floor to avoid eye contact.
After a minute, the elevator pinged, and the black reflective doors opened. Two Zahlian Marines in their crisp crimson uniforms held laser rifles over their chests. The Marines stepped out of the elevator, their ice-like eyes steady on the engineers. Behind the Marines stood an officer with a silver tablet in one hand and a blinking metallic wand in the other. The officer swept the metallic device over the two engineers at the front and glanced at his tablet. The wand beeped and flashed green, signaling the first engineers could pass into the elevator. The Marines motioned with their laser rifles for the next pair to step forward. Their fingertips rapped on the rifle as they glared at each person waiting in front of the elevator.
Gree swallowed. The security to access the bowels of Zone Ninety was far more extensive than he anticipated. After seven months on Claria, Gree still had his movements monitored, and his correspondence surveyed. He hadn’t risked checking in with his superiors for two weeks. Now that he was about to descend into the depths of the complex, he wouldn’t be able to send or receive any communications. The building blocked all incoming or outgoing transmissions to maintain the security of the operation.
The Zahlian agents didn’t know he knew about the surveillance or the blocked transmissions. He spent what little free time he had to try to appear like a boring employee. But the agents had reason to keep an eye on the engineers working on this project for Baron Industries.
The Marines passed the next pair of engineers. They turned and gestured for Gree and the woman next to him to step forward. Her name was Ula Mara, an engineer from a local town on Claria. Gree had tried to get close to her in the past few months, but Ula kept to herself. During their one after-work drink in the company lounge, Gree discovered Ula had received accolades for her revolutionary designs in spacecraft hull plating. His cover story proclaimed him as a genius for optimizing the Lutimite Drive utilized by all spacecraft traveling within the Zahlian space lanes. The project supervisor charged him with advancing the engines on a Zahlian Interceptor, and Gree had wondered why.
Today, he hoped to find out.
The wand passed over his head, down his back and touched the back of his legs. Gree sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The officer’s wand flashed green, and Gree stepped into the elevator. The engineers packed into the rapidly shrinking elevator causing Ula to press against him, her eyes on the wall behind him.
The final two engineers shoved into the elevator. The officer stood at the edge of the door, surveying the group. He nodded while counting the number of employees packed into the car. He keyed for the level, and the doors hissed shut.
They reached their destination. Gree still couldn’t believe the length of the elevator ride down to this level. Guards escorted the workers from the first elevator to the locker room where they changed into their black lab coats. They had locked personal items into blue, plastic bins before the guards ordered them to another elevator. Gree marveled at the silence, the methodical efficiency of the Zahlian operation.
But today he could see it in the eyes of the Marines and officer. Today would not be another day of calculations and study. There was a bit of excitement in their faces.
The elevator slowed, bounced once, and came to a stop. With a snap-hiss of servos, the door parted to reveal an open room large enough to fit a Zahlian capital ship. White fluorescent lights buzzed in the ceiling several stories above the floor. Other technicians and engineers, all in black lab coats, worked at various stations around the room. Some carried tablets in their hands while others worked directly on a piece of equipment. The lighting increased in intensity in the center of the room where the floor lowered into a bowl shape.
“All right, move it,” the officer barked from near the elevator.
The engineers cautiously stepped out into the room, their eyes surveying the area fluttering with activity. Ula leaned back, her gaze on the ceiling high above their heads. A solid red line illuminated the center of the ceiling, stretching the length of the upper section of the room. The Zahlian guards dispersed the newly arrived group, sending them to their workstations. Gree watched the guards lead Ula away while he remained with engineers he didn’t know and hadn’t seen during his months in the Zone.
A Marine guard led him and the other engineers through various workstations. At one table, engineers focused on dissecting the inner workings of a laser canon. At another, engineers with red goggles studied the microscopic variations of a piece of metal.
His pulse quickened, but he tried to control his breathing. After months of being Fadre Gree, trying to work his way into a project so secret it existed hundreds of meters below the surface, he now walked into an underground operations room on Claria. His Legion contacts were not going to believe his report … if he would e
ver be able to give it.
Acting as if his upper arm itched, he scratched just behind his elbow and gently pressed the activation switch embedded under his skin. As he did so, his vision shifted and blurred like static for a brief moment. The implants attached to his retina warmed and activated, the images he saw now being recorded and saved into the thumb-sized device placed just under the skin on his arm. If all went well, and he could trust the Legion agent he met on the edge of The Fringe two years ago, he had thirty minutes of recording time. He hoped the image recorded clear and true—especially when he recalled the pain of the procedure. If the spacecraft at the center of this room were what he expected, the years of planning and execution would be worth it.
He rounded a line of tall cubicles. Before him stretched a pair of engines connected to computer terminals and colorful wires. Gree nodded at the Marine guard and stepped in front of the engine he had thus far seen only in schematics. When the trials of this engine were complete, it would be the fastest ship in the known galaxy. Nothing in the Legion even compared, but the Zahl project was still far from test flights.
Folding his arms across his chest, Gree turned his head to the side and walked around the engines. No matter who you were or where you were from, you had to be impressed with this technology. It was no wonder the Legion wanted him to get a look at the ship. In a couple years, this spacecraft could render the Zahlian Navy invincible.
He picked up a tablet and started reading his assignments for the day. Zahlian command wanted him to begin tests for engine optimization. They planned on installing the advanced engines in … two months? No, that couldn’t be possible. This project had barely advanced beyond the preliminary stages, right?
Two attendants moved a long line of diagnostic equipment in front of his station on shiny metal carts. The equipment moved out of his view, revealing a large object in the distance.
Gree’s jaw dropped, the tablet slowly lowering to his side. In the center of the room, parked like it would blast through the ceiling at any moment, was the Wraith.
It couldn’t be. He stepped forward, drawn to the spacecraft as if it had a magnetic pull. The ship’s stabilizers looked like the fins of a sea creature. He shook his head, studying the smooth black hull of the spacecraft and the curved arching nose coming together in the shape of a horseshoe crab. Up until that moment, Legion intelligence had scarcely believed the rumor of an advanced Zahlian Interceptor codenamed Wraith. If he could trust the reports, this interceptor could fly completely undetected by sensors, avoiding any missile lock, and operate unaffected by stunners or system disruptors of any kind. A fighter that could do that would tilt the balance in the Zahlian-Legion Cold War. With the work his team had completed on the engine enhancements, the stealth ship would also become the fastest in the galaxy.
“Dr. Gree, isn’t it?”
Gree blinked and turned slightly, facing the younger engineer. “Yes?”
“Sir, aren’t we supposed to begin working on the engines?”
“Right,” he said, turning back to the Wraith. “We are. I just, well, I hadn’t seen her up close.”
“No one has.” The engineer stepped next to Gree. From the smooth skin around his eyes, Gree gathered his fellow engineer had to be ten years younger, or he had received some genetic enhancement— possible on a world like Claria. “She’s beautiful.”
Gree blinked, appearing to bring himself back to the task at hand but hoping his eye implant focused and captured a clear shot of the first known images of the Wraith. “We had better get to work, Doctor.”
“I’m Sarta Bren, but everyone calls me ‘Popper.’”
Gree nodded, his eyes still on the Wraith looming at the center of the room like a silent sentinel. He opened up the tablet to access his files on the engine specifications, finally pulling his gaze away from the engineering perfection of the Wraith.
“Okay, Dr. Bren,” he said, “we need to start by testing if our engine can endure the modifications we made last week.”
“Right.” Bren’s eyes widened, and he turned back to the engines.
Gree stopped listening. Instead, he focused on the feeling of dread penetrating his stomach. The Zahlian Empire would kill to acquire the images he just recorded into his implant. He had actual proof the theories of an advanced Zahlian Interceptor were true.
He needed to get to the topside after his shift away from the building’s jamming and send the video off world before it was too late.
*****
Shift ended. The lights in the workroom turned off, ending with the spotlight on the Wraith. Gree stared at the ship for a moment longer. Smaller than the Legion’s Trident, the interceptor design looked less militaristic and more organic, almost as if the Zahlian craft had been born, not created. Without the sharp angles of most Legion craft, the interceptor had a smoothness to its design. The surface of the hull glistened like freshly polished marble, the remaining light in the room rippling on the craft’s surface like a pond in the moonlight.
Gree sat his tablet next to the engines and, even though his recording device filled hours ago, took in one last look of the Wraith. He needed to get this information back to the Legion.
He placed his tablet back on his workstation and filed out with the other engineers. Bren was babbling something about his evening plans when Gree came back to the conversation.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “what’s that now? I zoned out for a second there.”
Bren snorted. “Glad you find me so interesting. Anyway, some people I know wanted to go to the Jouncy game later tonight, but I’m so over sports. Seriously, what’s the point? You know? Your team wins, or they lose—your life is the same the next day, right?”
Gree said nothing.
Bren continued his rant on the elevator ride, launching into a tirade over a guy he knew who lost next month’s rent betting on a game.
Ula rode in silence at the front of the elevator, her arms behind her back. Gree stared at the back of her head, noticing the wisps of blond hair stretching out from the rest like golden spider webs. He didn’t know much about her side of the project, but he knew it was her brilliance that allowed the Wraith to remain invisible from sensors. Her advancements and dedication would serve the project well.
And she was beautiful. Shorter than him and fit, he admitted to himself a long time ago that she was the best part of the elevator ride. Perhaps in another place and time, something could have … instead, he had to listen to Bren talking about the upcoming tournament he claimed not to care about, but couldn’t stop discussing.
They retrieved their personal belongings, including Gree’s bag with the crucial bit of technology, from the locker room and changed back into the civilian clothes they had worn when they arrived sixteen hours ago. With the schedule requiring them to return in six hours, Gree knew he had limited time to launch his remote whisper carrying the video of the Wraith into space, away from the jamming, and back to his Legion contacts.
Wearing his light blue shirt and dark pants, he passed through the locker room door. It felt better to be out of the lab coat. He glanced at his watch.
He stopped, nearly crashing into Ula standing near the door of the locker room.
“Oh, I am sorry,” she said, her voice soft. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Gree adjusted his shirt. “Not at all. I was just leaving.”
“Dr. Gree,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Mind if I call you Fadre?”
Gree swallowed. “Sure.”
“You asked me a few weeks ago if I would like to go for a drink after work.” She stared meekly at the floor. “I feel I owe you an apology.”
Shifting his weight, he shook his head and stepped through the door. “No apology needed. I understand not mixing business with pleasure. I really should be—”
Pushing a strand of her blonde hair over her right ear, Ula held her arm in front of him. “I’m trying to say I was interested. I shouldn’t have shot you down that day.”
She fiddled with her hands. “I really need to talk to someone. I’m in some trouble and, well, I don’t really know who to talk to.”
The clock was ticking. He needed to send the images stored in his implant. But avoiding a coworker might seem suspicious, and he didn’t need any reason to draw attention to himself.
“Okay, Ula,” he said, trying to sound like he truly cared. “Where would you like to go?”
Her eyes widened. “There’s a bar here in this installation. Street side, though. What do you think?”
“I think it sounds great.” He raised his hand toward the door. “Lead the way.”
Ula walked through the brightly lit corridors of the Zahlian research facility. She nodded as they passed other engineers and scientists still wearing black lab coats. Zahlian Marine guards stood at two doors they passed, their cold stares sending a shiver through his core.
If they only knew what I had stored in my implant.
Shaking away thoughts of capture and torture, Gree feigned a pleasant smile as he passed two Marines and followed Ula into the elevator. She grinned sheepishly, pressing an elevator button. The door pinged and started to slide shut.
“Hold it! Please!” a voice yelled down the corridor.
Gree looked up. Dr. Bren, or Popper, sprinted down the hall, his skin glistening with sweat. He burst into the elevator like a gust of the wind in a storm, collapsing against the wall.
“Thanks!” He gasped for air. “I didn’t want to have to wait another twenty minutes for the next elevator, and I’m ready to get out of here.”
“No problem,” Ula said in a soft voice, “what floor?”
Bren glanced at both of them. “Am I interrupting something?”
Ula shook her head sharply. “Of course not.”
Bren sighed, appearing relieved. “I’m heading topside.”
“Very well.”
Ula pressed the button, and the doors slid shut. After a brief moment, the elevator deep inside Claria accelerated, traveling away from the hidden research station. Gree stared at the levels changing on the LED display above the door, lost in thought.