Star Runners: Mission Wraith (#3)

by L. E. Thomas

  The corridor came to a halt up ahead. A pulsating maroon sign glowed with black Zahlian symbols. He felt the attention of the Marines behind him. He took another right as Val had instructed, trying to act as if he had made this walk a thousand times before. He didn’t know how he could project “routine.” It wasn’t something he had thought about practicing. As a fresh bead of sweat slithered down the center of his back, he wished he had.

  Two doors opened up at the end of the hall to reveal a bowl-shaped area the size of a tremendous auditorium. Another guard stood in the doorway, facing Austin. He stepped up next to the guard and paused in the doorway. Was he too early? He saw no distraction Val had promised, nothing but rigid order.

  “Major,” the guard said through Austin’s translator.

  Austin offered a shallow nod, unable to respond as he looked into the room. Should he move into the room?

  A line of computer-filled offices lined the rim of the room behind glass, everything focusing on the center. Engineers and technicians worked at their stations on the ground level, adjusting screens and typing on holographic keyboards. In the center, standing out in the otherwise white room, sat the parked Wraith.

  His eyes widened at the horseshoe crab shape of the dark fighter, looking powerful and ominous. The hull was black like volcanic glass, shimmering and reflecting its surroundings. He had seen what this girl could do up close, remembering the unimaginable speed and maneuverability. But now it seemed to beckon to him like the finish line at the end of a marathon. She wanted Austin to fly her out of here. His breathing quickened. Up above, the ceiling came together in two pieces. Austin blinked. The hangar doors.

  The room looked familiar. Austin remembered the video Braddock had shown on board the Formidable, the images shot by an agent. Was that one of the agents Val had mentioned?

  Austin stepped into the room, making his way toward the Wraith.

  The glass separating the offices from the rest of the room suddenly shattered, followed by a wave of fire. A shower of tiny glass particles blasted across the area, the pieces falling like a crystal rain. Black smoke poured into the room, hanging over the hangar like a storm cloud.

  “Excuse me, sir!” a guard barked from behind Austin.

  He got out of the way, spinning and backing against the wall. Chaos filled the facility, engineers coughing and recoiling from the flames. White gas shot from the ceiling inside the offices, extinguishing the fire immediately. The gas filled the room like a morning fog, reducing his vision to a few feet in front of him.

  Move it!

  Marching with confidence, he strode down the stairs to the center of the room. Men and women in white lab coats brushed past him, hacking and crying as they tried desperately to exit. Some crawled on their hands and knees, blood trickling from their ears. He fought the instinct to help them, instead focusing on the fighter he knew lurked in the cloud of gas.

  A colossal guard with a chest like carved marble materialized and stood in front of him, clicking his boots loudly on the floor. He saluted and shook his head.

  “We cannot continue our mission today, Major,” he said. “At least not until the gas clears.”

  Austin took in a breath, looking to his left and right. He saw no other guards within the thick white gas. He turned back to the guard, noticing the laser pistol at his side.

  He swallowed. He knew what he had to do.

  Nodding as he placed his hand on the pen in his front pocket, Austin turned halfway around as if he planned to leave. He snapped back, yanking the pen from his pocket and firing.

  The lightning bolt struck the guard square in the jaw, sending him spinning like a top back into the gas.

  He heard screaming, voices barking orders. He ran through the white gas mixing with the black smoke, hoping the fighter was close. The floor rumbled, a strong vibration filling the room. The gas and smoke began to dissipate, his visibility improving. The ventilation system must have activated.

  Through the smoke, emerging like a creature from a children’s story, poked the nose of the Wraith.

  Found you, Austin thought. He hurried to the ladder leading to the cockpit. As he climbed, he kept the tablet tucked under his left arm.

  As he was about to spin around and drop into the cockpit, his shoulder flashed with pain. Sparks erupted from his flight suit. He fell onto the ladder. He winced, tightening his grip on the side of the cockpit. A screaming guard emerged from the rapidly disappearing smoke. Austin pulled his pistol and fired twice, striking the guard in the face.

  Ignoring the pain burning into his shoulder, Austin collapsed into the cockpit and thrust his tablet into the console. The control board flashed to life. He keyed for engine start up and shut the canopy. Most of the fighter’s systems had prepped and appeared to be on standby. As the canopy slid shut, the roar of his engines blared inside the hangar like a monstrous roar from the depths. Papers fluttered around the room like a snow storm.

  As soon as he was able and the fighter’s systems had warmed up, he activated the shields and raised the craft off the floor. He hovered for a moment, wondering if the hangar doors would open. He paused, the Wraith tilting to the side as he rotated it around the confines of the room.

  He couldn’t control his breathing, his helmet fogging up slightly. His hands trembled as he plugged the flight suit into the Wraith’s life support systems, the condensation on his helmet fading. The hangar doors above him hadn’t opened. If they didn’t, he would be trapped in this complex.

  Laser fire bounced off the shields as the gas and smoke exited the room. More Zahlian guards filed inside, lining around the fighter. He couldn’t count them all, but several dozen pointed their weapons at him.

  A sinister voice breathed into his headset. “Did you really think you could steal it?”

  Austin searched the scene, his fingers resting lightly on the trigger. If he couldn’t get out of here, he wouldn’t go down without doing damage. He checked the readout, saw he had four missiles, two stunners, one full spread of countermeasures and laser guns—enough to take this entire complex with him.

  “Land immediately,” the voice said, louder this time. “Land and I promise you will receive a quick death. Land and save us the trouble of destroying our fighter.”

  “I can’t do that,” Austin said without transmitting. He activated a missile and prepared it to fire.

  I’m sorry, Mom. I really am.

  He touched the trigger, closed his eyes and prayed. When he opened his eyes, he lowered his gaze.

  “Here we go,” he said, ready to fire.

  The hangar doors suddenly opened. Red and yellow lights flashed throughout the room. The remaining gas and smoke shot up through the crack as the doors parted. He saw the bright blue Claria sky and the mass of the orbiting spaceport beyond.

  The guards screamed, turning to face a control board on the far side of the room. Austin followed their gaze. He saw Val crouching behind the control board, a small pistol in her hand. She gave Austin a thumbs up, pointing toward the hangar doors. Austin looked at her and smiled.

  She nodded, standing up over the control board and firing wildly at the guards. A blue surge of electricity sizzled through the room, catching all of the computers on fire. The raging fires spread, igniting the facility and transforming the hangar into an inferno. In another minute, the complex would be nothing but a smoldering pile of rubble, erasing the Wraith project on Claria from existence.

  Austin tilted the fighter back, bringing the nose to face the hangar doors. He looked to the left, saw a crumpled body near the burning control boards.

  Val.

  His gaze fixated on her body riddled with laser burns. The flames spread, catching hold of her lab coat as everything in the room caught fire.

  Thank you, Val.

  He focused forward, saw the doors had opened far enough for the fighter to squeeze through. He buried the throttle, the thrust slamming him back into his seat. The cockpit rattled loudly, so much he thought somethin
g was wrong, but then realized the Wraith was simply that powerful. The building passed by him swiftly. The fighter exited the structure, screaming hard for altitude.

  Austin shot a glance to the right, saw the tall buildings of Zone Ninety fading away. The HUD burned red, signifying two inbound surface-to-air missiles. Out of reflex, he started to activate two countermeasures.

  Wait a minute.

  He stared down at a black lever on his left, opposite the throttle. This had to be the shroud. It wasn’t in the Interceptor cockpit he had trained on in the simulators. Ignoring the fact he might be making a terrible mistake, he pulled back on the lever.

  The canopy shimmered, similar to how it did when he activated the shroud on his Trident. The HUD transitioned to green. Another emerald border surrounded the HUD, apparently signifying the shroud was active. A timer ticked down from forty in the lower right corner of the square. It seemed to tick down once every couple seconds.

  Good enough, he thought. That’ll give me enough time to get out of here.

  He rolled the fighter through the upper atmosphere, amazed at the climbing ability.

  Above him, the spaceport launched an entire wing of Interceptors. He veered away from the Interceptors, skipping across the atmosphere. Punching in his numerical coordinates, he allowed the navigation computer to calculate the best course.

  “Unidentified pilot in stolen Zahlian equipment, please respond,” a voice came through on his gamma wave.

  Austin snorted. Right, he thought, and give you a signal to track? Forget it.

  He checked his fuel and frowned. Not much, but enough to get him to his refueling waypoint.

  The Wraith dashed for deep space, the Interceptors behind him underestimating the speed of the fighter and setting up a blockade of the planet. A larger vessel, what Austin believed to be the ARC Major Braddock had mentioned as being a new capital ship of the Zahlian Empire, broke off from the spaceport and settled into high orbit. A massive cannon protruded from the bow of the black ship. Like the Wraith, the ARC had an organic look to the design. A smooth hull design led aft to the engines, the hull coming to a point at the stern. A wide viewport stretched atop the engines in what Austin assumed was the bridge.

  “Unidentified pilot,” the voice crackled into his ear piece. “This is the Zahlian ARC Dauntless, flagship of Sector Regent Tulin. You are at this moment bound by law and ordered to return the stolen spacecraft to Claria. Do so now, and your life will be spared.”

  Austin smiled, pulling back on the throttle to conserve fuel. They tried a different tactic, he thought. Someone must have realized offering to kill him quickly was not the best incentive.

  As the computer calculated, he allowed a moment of quiet satisfaction to wash over him. He thought of the number of people who struggled and died to make this happen. The mission had been a success.

  He bolted toward deep space, leaning back into the cockpit as he stretched his legs. Nothing but the sound of the engines and the constant whine of the electronics.

  The inside of the cockpit was flawless. No clumsy buttons or switches interrupted the smooth as glass dashboard. The control board shined like volcanic glass; all of the flight operations appeared on a digital screen similar to his flight tablet. Only the stick and the throttle was tangible.

  He looked up, the stars welcoming him. He thought of Nubern and the initial recruitment meeting he had with the man, wondered if Nubern ever thought Austin would be here now in Zahlian territory on a mission so secret he had to “die” to go on it.

  The computer pinged, finishing its calculations.

  He had never traveled with a Lutimite Drive before, only knew they traveled at faster-than-light speeds and didn’t open a wormhole like the curvature drive.

  Tightening his harness, he settled into the cockpit.

  As he learned in simulation training, he killed the primary engines and deactivated the shroud. He knew he was now visible to the naked eye, but he was too far away for it to matter. He pressed the red glowing symbol on his navigation computer and three blue circles appeared on the HUD.

  Then two.

  Hang on, he thought, interlocking his hands over his lap.

  Then one.

  The stars themselves seem to rattle and vibrate. The ship grew quiet, then a light brighter and more intense than anything he had ever seen filled the canopy. A brief, violent force slapped him.

  The stars zipped by his ship like fireflies. A rainbow of colors washed over him as the Wraith passed light speed. The intensity of the colorful collage left him entranced. He stared into the blur, the radiant glow enveloping the canopy. The beautiful sight left him in awe, the realization coming to him that he currently traveled faster than light.

  He raised his visor and rubbed his eyes. He felt like he hadn’t slept in days.

  His shoulder flashed with pain, the laser burn flaring. He winced, trying to push the pain out of his mind.

  He exhaled, wondering if the refueling tug would be at this remote moon when he arrived.

  *****

  The same three blue symbols appeared on his HUD when he had nearly reached his position. The symbols disappeared one at a time, counting down until the Lutimite Drive would drop him back into standard space.

  Two.

  One.

  The stars dropped back to normal, the deceleration moving his head forward slightly. He shook away the fatigue and surveyed his surroundings. Dead ahead, a small blue moon orbited an orange fireball of a planet. He checked his navigation computer and saw he was right on top of his destination. The Wraith had done its job well.

  But the scope was empty, devoid of any other ships in the entire star system. He ran a sweep again. Seeing nothing, he initiated a diagnostic of the entire spacecraft.

  The Legion tug was supposed to meet him here and refuel him for the rest of his journey to rendezvous at his final waypoint on the Legion-Zahl border. He exhaled, the feeling of isolation falling over him.

  Perhaps he was early? Or what if the tug had been delayed for some reason?

  The diagnostic completed its work, showing the Wraith operated normally. So far, Austin couldn’t help but be impressed with the spacecraft that had allowed him to slip through a Zahlian blockade. He glanced at his fuel.

  Almost empty.

  Unfortunately, the Wraith did need fuel to operate the Lutimite Drive. Without it, he would be unable to use the shroud or fly faster-than-light. He would be like any other fighter, and would be unable to defend himself. In nine hours and twenty-eight minutes, the Lutimite Drive would be depleted, and he would be dead in the water—and that was if he only operated under minimum power.

  Come on. Where are you?

  His shoulder burned from the laser wound received before he boarded the Wraith. He reached under the seat and found a maroon steel box. He opened the box, saw a syringe, two small bottles, and a black cylinder like a spray paint can. It must be a first aid kit. At least, he hoped it was. He had seen nurses on board the Formidable use a similar cylinder to spray on wounds to aid the healing process.

  He took a deep breath. Here goes.

  Holding his breath, he braced for the inevitable sting. He pressed the top of the can. A white haze shot onto his wound. The smell of alcohol filled the cockpit. The liquid sizzled on his wound, the pain shooting through his body for an instant. The soreness faded into a mild discomfort. After another moment, he slid his fingertips across the wound and felt the tender skin.

  He sighed. Now that he addressed the wound, he checked his sensors again and saw he was still alone. He leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath.

  Twenty minutes passed like twenty days, each second dragging by as he repeatedly checked the sensors. He brought the Wraith into the orbit of the remote moon, deactivating all nonessential systems including the shroud. Resting his head against the canopy, he banked the fighter and gazed down at the planet. The blues and greens swirled together under a collage of a forming dark storm. His eyelids grew heavy
as he waited, his mind drifting to another place and another time.

  He gazed into the clouds below, his eyes closing to slits.

  The sensors pinged, ripping him from the near sleep state. He jolted forward, tension filling his body.

  A ship had curved into the area, popping up on his scope between the gas giant and the moon. The fact it curved into the area brought him a brief sense of relief. Only Legion vessels used the curvature drive, the Zahlian forces preferring the Lutimite Drive. He checked for a transponder but found the incoming vessel was silent.

  His fingers flew across the digital control board, and the Wraith came back to life, electronics humming, and the engines whining. Using his maneuvering thrusters, he brought the fighter around to face the incoming ship. The gamma wave hissed and popped.

  “Lone Wolf, this is Chow Hall. Please respond.”

  Austin exhaled. “Chow Hall, this is Lone Wolf. Nice of you to show up.”

  The pilot paused. “There was a delay back home, but all is well. Are you ready for refuel?”

  Austin looked at his digital gauges. “You have no idea.”

  “All right, stay where you are in high orbit. We’re coming to you. Refueling should take a few minutes.”

  “Copy,” he said. “I’ll await your instructions.”

  “Copy. We are inbound.”

  The tug was about the size of four Tridents. Blocks composed the hull. Two twin turrets sat atop the vessel, pointing in opposite directions as a silent sentry of the depths of space. A sole tube stretched out from the front of the vessel, like a lonely tentacle reaching out for him.

  Austin glanced at his power levels. Even with the systems turned down, the energy was still draining from the spacecraft. Guess the Wraith wasn’t built for economy, he thought, but it was a prototype. He knew the engineers were in the process of improving the fighter when Val destroyed the complex. Or he hoped she had been successful.