by L. E. Thomas
Now, Austin felt he was about to find out why.
After Braddock had repeated his transmission, he switched back to the encrypted Whisper. “Rock, prepare to scrap. Let your new friends know what’s going on. Order them to head for Legion space.”
“Roger.”
Braddock soared out in front of Austin, his sensors sending invisible pulses out into the void in an attempt to verify the identification of the incoming bogeys—and decide on their intention. In Austin’s limited experience and his classes in flight school, radio silence in unidentified craft never meant anything good.
“Searcher, this is Rock.”
“Reading you, Rock,” Jakara’s voice came back.
“We have two unidentified bogeys incoming.”
Jakara paused. “We don’t see anything on our sensors.”
“Trust me,” Austin said, his voice lowering. “They’re coming. I need you to fire up your engines and continue your course. I am going to transmit coordinates to you. It’s within Legion space, and you’ll be safe.”
“But our engines are damaged. I don’t think we can—”
“With all due respect,” Austin interjected, “we don’t have time to discuss. Make for the coordinates we send you. We will try to protect you.”
“Roger, Rock,” Jakara said with resignation in her voice. “Good luck.”
The bogeys continued increasing the distance between themselves. Braddock maintained a course between the two as the MUs dropped below two-thousand. He repeated the message and received no response.
“Rock, we’re now treating the incoming bogeys as hostile,” Braddock said cooly. “Prepare to engage.”
Austin clenched his teeth as a tight smile stretched across his face, the fear transforming into determination. He eased his Trident into standard attack position on Braddock’s wing. “Roger.”
“Combat spread,” Braddock said sharply. “Looks like vultures—marauders—coming from The Fringe. They’ll find quite the surprise when they see us here.”
“Copy.”
From what Austin had heard from other Star Runners, these scavenger groups on The Fringe roamed the wilderness between worlds. They preyed on small, defenseless settlements or damaged vessels like the Searcher. These “vultures,” as Braddock called them, rarely had to deal with a force like the Legion Navy.
Austin dropped into his position, bringing his Trident lower than Braddock’s. In a combat spread position, it would be Austin’s job as the defender to lure the incoming bogeys into a good position for Braddock to take them out. Braddock dropped back and above Austin’s Trident, settling into what Star Runners called the “perch.”
The maneuver worked. The two bogeys adjusted course, focusing on Austin’s Trident. The bogeys closed the gap between them, coming in a tight formation—their images on the sensors nearly touching. The distance dropped below one thousand MUs. The signal warning of a missile lock squealed in his ear.
“Evasive!” Braddock ordered.
Austin banked left and pulled up, bringing his Trident away from the bogeys. “Looks like we didn’t scare them at all!”
“I’m coming in,” Braddock snapped. “Maintain your course.”
“Copy.”
The warning signal for missile lock disappeared as Austin leveled out, allowing the bogeys to settle in behind him. They were still too far away for guns, but they might decide on a blind missile shot. He adjusted his shields to the rear and fled full throttle, away from the bogeys and, more importantly, away from the damaged Searcher.
“I have a lock,” Braddock said, his tone cold as ice. “Firing.”
Austin watched his sensors and saw the missile closing on the bogey near Braddock. The bogey tried to evade, diving away from the missile. A moment later, the bogey disappeared from the scope.
“Got him,” Braddock said. “Rock, these vultures have worthless shields. I’m closing on the second. Bring it around and form up next to me for a sandwich maneuver.”
“You got it.”
Austin yanked the stick, bringing the Trident around sharply. A maneuver like that in the atmosphere would have crushed him, he thought. The bogey suddenly fired four missiles at the generational ship, looped around and headed away from the Searcher’s position. The four projectiles launched toward the damaged vessel.
“Rock—engage those missiles!” Braddock yelled. “I’ll take care of our friend.”
“Roger!”
Austin pulled back, bringing the missiles into his crosshairs. Firing his lasers, he took out two on his first pass flying parallel with the missiles. The explosions dissipated quickly in the void of space. Pulling back around, he came in behind the missiles as they zeroed in on the Searcher. He fired wildly, his energy banks dwindling as he filled the space with laser bolts. The third missile exploded.
The fourth and final moved away from him, extending the distance between them.
Austin leaned forward. He fired again. The bolt flying just short of the missile. He closed on the Searcher. If his shots missed, they could hit the simple vessel he was trying to protect.
“Searcher, this is Rock,” he said, his voice straining. “You have one inbound missile. Launch countermeasures if you’ve got them.”
“Launch what?” Jakara asked.
Austin grimaced. He squinted and fired until the energy banks had nearly depleted. He only had a few more seconds …
The missile lined up with the Searcher’s engines. Twenty MUs. Ten.
He squeezed the trigger. Three bolts exploded from his Trident’s guns, igniting the space around his fighter. The first two soared over the missile. The third found its mark and exploded the projectile.
Debris from the missile shot out in all directions. Two pieces bounced off Austin’s forward shields, flashing like lightning. Austin instinctively pushed forward on the stick, bringing his Trident on a course below the Searcher. He looked up. Two pieces of missile debris crashed through the vessel’s hull like paper.
“Tiger, Rock,” Austin transmitted. He glanced at his scope to see Braddock had eliminated the remaining bogey.
“Go ahead, Rock.”
“I’ve taken out the missiles, sir, but one was a little too close when I got it. The vessel is hit.”
“Copy. We’ve got assistance.”
At that moment, space beyond the Searcher wavered, and the massive bulk of the Formidable moved through a curve. Five Kardas, the multi-use support craft Austin had read about being an integral part of the carrier’s operations, launched from the Formidable’s tubes looking like tiny daggers from this distance. The Kardas, loaded with engineers and medical personnel, swarmed toward the Searcher as it halted in space. More explosions rocked the vessel, gasses and debris flying into space.
“I think that’s enough for one day, Rock,” Braddock said. “Our boys’ll save who and what they can. Let’s get onboard.”
*****
“Anything to add, Rock?”
Austin shook his head. “No, sir.”
“That’s my report, sir,” Braddock said, standing at attention like a statue.
Commander Mitchem Horace squinted. He slid a hand over his closely shaven face and folded his arms over his lean chest. He exhaled. Horace was shorter than Austin would have expected for some reason. His lean frame fit snugly into the gray Legion Navy uniform.
Horace had ordered Braddock and Austin to the debriefing room immediately after landing. When the retrieval bay door shut and the atmosphere normalized, the “grease lykers” or space maintenance division had scurried around the Trident as soon as Austin opened the canopy. Braddock had led Austin to the briefing room where Commander Horace waited for them.
Braddock had described the incident in detail, detailing the brief dogfight with The Fringe vultures.
“Any idea what clan they were from?” Horace said, his voice calm and precise.
“We didn’t exchange any communication, sir,” Braddock said. “It’s my guess they picked up the da
maged ship on their sensors and were hoping for an easy pay day.”
Horace sighed. “The Fringe trash gets worse every year.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about the word of this ‘invisible’ ship? What did Jakara call it? A spirit?”
Braddock nodded. “Yes, sir. Our conversation with the commander of the Searcher was brief, sir, but it sounded like they were attacked by something they could not pick up on their rudimentary sensors.”
“It’s a good thing for them you were there,” Horace said with a hint of pride. “We have rescued eighty-seven from their crew. We’re making arrangements to rendezvous with a transport ship to get these people to safety. Hell of a way to carry out Revelation Protocol. They were in pretty bad shape—worst situation on a generational ship from a dark world I’ve seen in a long time.”
Horace stood at attention and looked at both of them. “I’ll send in the information regarding the spirit ship with my next log. I’m sure it’s something an admiral would like to read about. For now, let’s stay calm about this incident. We don’t want to go about creating worry when we don’t have to. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Braddock and Austin said in unison.
“Very well. Thank you for your time. Carry on, gentlemen.”
Braddock and Austin left the briefing room. They marched down the corridor toward the locker rooms.
“You did well in there, Rock.”
Austin looked at Braddock. “How so?”
“You kept your mouth shut.”
Austin smiled. “Seemed like the thing to do at the time, sir.”
“I’ve seen young lieutenants who couldn’t wait to start talking about their first patrol with any action. They always ramble on like idiots talking to a girl for the first time. I appreciate you keeping quiet. I guess Nubern was right about you.” He paused at the hatch leading to the locker room and looked at Austin as if he were sizing him up. “Of course, this wasn’t your first dance in a Trident.”
“No, sir,” Austin said with satisfaction.
“Well, don’t let it go to your head. I’m glad you’ve learned something in your previous encounters.” He gestured to the locker room. “Get dressed and take the rest of the day. See you tomorrow.”
*****
After Austin showered and changed from his flight suit to his regulation blue one piece, he made his way forward through the main corridor toward the berthing compartments. He lingered at the viewport overlooking the retrieval bay and watched the incoming traffic. Two Tridents escorted a Karda in for a landing. Austin stared transfixed on their blinking position lights. The bay door slid shut, breaking his attention.
Above, two Tridents flew past his view. He wondered about the other Star Runners and their first patrols. The Formidable had sorties departing around the clock—his just happened to be first. He pulled his tablet from his satchel and studied his schedule. He didn’t fly tomorrow. His schedule had filled with classes, training and a briefing on the next day’s flight. In some ways, this schedule wasn’t much different than on Tarton’s Junction.
He put the satchel away and stared into space above the Formidable. Jakara sounded scared over the gamma wave, frightened at the possibility of an invisible attacker coming from the black of space. Although Horace had ordered him to stay calm about the incident, he couldn’t prevent his mind from wondering about it. Perhaps it was just the imaginations of people too far removed from society?
No, he thought, he saw the damage to their vessel. Something had attacked them, but he wasn’t sure he believed a spirit ship had been responsible. Most likely, their inability to detect the culprit was a result of their antiquated equipment on board the Searcher.
He shook his head and tried to focus. He probably needed to go to sleep early tonight. The nightmares from the night before coupled with the excitement of his first patrol weighed on his mind. His joints ached, and his eyelids grew heavy.
He might skip dinner, drink a protein shake instead, and hit the rack.
There were a few things he wanted to do first.
He roamed toward the communications center, saw one other enlisted woman at the back of the room lined with comm terminals. Sitting down at the terminal, he slipped the headphones over his ears and prepared for transmission. He recorded messages for Nubern and Mom, informing them of his successful transition to life on a carrier. It felt good to speak casually, leaving out the endless details of his job and letting them know he was happy. The one-sided conversations would be transmitted an immense distance and prevent them from chatting simultaneously. With Mom on the other side of Legion space, she wouldn’t receive the message for quite some time. Still, it felt good to communicate with both of them. It reminded him of chatting with his parents after the first day of school. No matter how it had gone, he wanted to let them know everything was fine even if he had to stretch the truth.
When he finished, he took a deep breath and left the communications room. He longed to see Ryker, to tell her the details of his first patrol. It could have been his last patrol, and he felt the need to be with her.
He strolled toward her quarters, enjoying the relative quiet. The corridors were sparsely populated compared to earlier in the day. He stepped in front of her hatch, looking forward to seeing her in private. After receiving no answer from his first ping, he pressed the button again.
“Coming,” Ryker’s voice came through the intercom. The hatch slid to the side, revealing Ryker wearing a blue Tizona sweatsuit. Her black hair tangled into clumps of curls. Behind her on the bed, a flight tablet sat atop a mountain of scattered papers of plans. Her mouth opened, and her shoulders lowered. “Austin.”
“Hi.” He adjusted his satchel on his shoulder. “I wanted … I thought I’d come by to see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine.”
He lingered out in the corridor, feeling like he’d showed up uninvited at a party.
She glanced back to her quarters. “I’m getting ready for my first flight as Captain. Braddock wants me and all the captains onboard to start giving briefings beginning next week. I’m a little nervous.”
“You know you’ll be great,” he said. He reached out to touch her face, but she took a step back into her room. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced down the corridor. “Come in.”
He stepped into her tight quarters. His stomach turned.
“Listen,” she said, grabbing his hands. She stared down as she spoke. “I think you might be too vested in this.”
Austin blinked. “In what?”
“In us.” She looked at him. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Oh.” He released her hands and stepped back. He sighed. “Just like that.”
She frowned, her brow lowering. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“I wouldn’t want to make it harder than it is,” he said, his voice straining.
“Look, I’m your Captain—your CO.” She put her hands on her hips. “You can’t think we can stay together on this tour and work efficiently. And do you think command would be okay with this? What about Braddock—not to mention Horace? This isn’t going to work. You came over here tonight expecting what, Austin? Did you really think we could keep doing this?”
“Yes,” he said without delay.
She sighed. “You can’t afford to be so naive. We’re on the border. This is dangerous. You can’t keep coming over here at night, thinking we can continue being together when this is a life and death situation every day. On top of that, there could be a war starting any day now. You need to stay focused on flying, not … us.”
Austin sighed, shaking his head. He could not believe what he was hearing.
“After all we’ve been through,” he said, looking at her, “you should have a little more faith in me than that.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I can’t sacrifice my career for this.”
She shook her head, and they stood in silen
ce for a moment.
“I won’t do it,” she whispered.
Austin swallowed and stared at her. She looked away from him, blinking.
“Okay,” he said, his voice shaking. Anger shot through his body. His hands trembled. He wanted to say something—anything—to hurt her and make her feel like he felt.
He turned away from her and opened the hatch. He faced her from the hallway, but she remained staring at the floor in her quarters.
“I came over here tonight to congratulate you on your promotion,” he said, turning to the corridor. “That’s all. Nothing else. See you around … Captain.”
He felt her eyes on him, but he walked away.
Austin’s shoes pounded the rubber surface of the treadmill. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping down his nose as he started in on the fifth mile of his workout. Music blared into his ears, propelling him to run faster. The workout mix had been the same since he played baseball in high school. It made him feel at home.
He was alone in the workout facility. After spending the morning in the UV room to grab his required minutes of Vitamin D, Austin had rushed to the gym to run. Over the past month, he had grown to love this time in the early morning. Other than the occasional officer who couldn’t sleep, it was a time when most of the other Star Runners not on duty were asleep in their racks. The only sound in the hallway was the low rumble of the Formidable’s engines.
Besides, working out helped him shake the burning images of his recurring nightmares. Most of the time, the dreams continue to focus on burning forests and the impending doom of not being able to save his mother. Once his nightmare was in the cockpit facing insurmountable odds—no matter how many pirates he shot down into the Pacific Ocean, they just kept coming. Sometimes, the dreams focused on Ryker …
After his workout, Austin would settle in to study the next flight plan for the day or catch up on the continued learning courses studying everything from dogfighting tactics to Legion officer etiquette.