Star Runners: Mission Wraith (#3)

by L. E. Thomas

  If the Zahl Empire could mass produce fighters like this, the Tridents wouldn’t be able to compete. The only defense the Formidable had been able to raise was firing a disruptor to scramble all the sensors within the system. Disruptors could be focused on something the size of a planet, like the Legion had done to protect Earth during the Battle of Atlantis. Larger disruptors affecting an entire star system took up a great deal of power, rendering the carrier nearly useless until the power levels recharged.

  Firing the disruptors changed everything about an engagement, making dogfights much more like what Austin had read of World War Two back on Earth and the epic battles in the Pacific when carrier task forces launched scout planes and relied on the eyes of their pilots rather than satellite technology. If the Legion engineers were able to reverse-engineer the Wraith, space warfare would forever be changed. It would no longer be solely about who had the better technology. It would be about the talent and fighting spirit of men and women on both sides.

  “All right,” the tug Captain announced, “we are lined up and good to go. Stay put and we’ll have you refueled and on your way in twenty minutes.”

  “Copy. Staying put.”

  “Ten thousand MUs and closing.”

  Austin fidgeted in his seat, the black of space suddenly appearing more menacing. What waited for him out there? His next waypoint would bring him back to the safety of Legion space, and his mission would be a success.

  He thought of the Formidable. Major Braddock had said they would have Austin’s full funeral service with the other fallen Star Runners. His thoughts lingered on the fact his comrades thought he had died. Ryker, Skylar, and Bear had gone for weeks with the knowledge he had been destroyed by a pair of marauders on the edge of The Fringe. What would happen when he got back? How would the Legion forces “revive” him? Or would he remain in the shadows, operating as a covert Star Runner? He didn’t have a good answer. The Legion had been so desperate to send him on this mission he hadn’t asked questions about what would happen if he succeeded.

  He watched the tug coming closer, now within five thousand MUs. He could make out details of the vessel in front of him as he cracked his knuckles together. As soon as they got this refueling underway, the sooner he would be away from this moon and back in Legion space.

  The sensors wailed, the HUD flashing from a bright green to a blood red. His eyes wide, he looked around the surrounding space. It appeared like a fast-moving comet at first, flashing into the star system with incredible speed. The vessel slowed, parking in space about twenty-thousand MUs from his position. He recognized the ship, although it took a moment for his mind to catch up with the realization of what he was seeing. The Zahlian ARC. He checked the transponder. It was the Dauntless.

  More signals appeared from the ship, swarming around like hornets around their nest. Interceptors formed into attack formation in front of the ARC.

  “How?” Austin asked, unable to believe what he was seeing.

  “Doesn’t matter now,” the tug Captain said. “They’re here.”

  Austin racked his brain, wondering how the Zahlian forces had tracked the invisible ship. Then it hit him, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. It was his fault. The Wraith had a tracking device onboard, detectable only when the shroud was deactivated—and he shut down the shroud as soon as he left the Clarian System.

  “Our newcomers are on the way,” the tug captain announced, his voice devoid of emotion. “Lone Wolf, get out of here. We’ll keep them busy.”

  Austin slammed his hand against the canopy. “That’s suicide!”

  “I think we’re passed the point of caring about that now,” the Captain grumbled. “We’ll keep them busy. You must flee.”

  Austin glanced at his power levels, knowing he couldn’t make it far. The tug swung around, its lumbering shape moving with the speed of an elephant as it turned to face the incoming Interceptors. The small turrets on top of the refueling tug came to life, moving to face the enemy.

  His breathing increased as he searched the space around. Flee? Flee to where? He had no power to activate the Lutimite Drive for a long-distance trip. He had enough to maintain the shroud for eight hours and—

  He twisted his neck behind him, staring at the moon. It had an atmosphere … if he landed, deactivated the life support and shut down all the systems but the shroud, he could last for at least eight hours. Nine if fortune was on his side.

  “Very well, Chow Hall,” he said, firing up his engines and activating the Wraith’s shroud. “Good luck.”

  Austin veered the fighter toward the moon and slammed forward on the throttle. With his shields double front, he was able to take a sharper orbital entry. The Wraith bounced through the atmosphere, the shields glowing red in front of him. Taking one last glance at the scene unfolding behind him, he watched the Zahlian Interceptors pounding the tug that would have refueled him. The tug’s turrets fired wildly, trying to swat down the Interceptors as they encircled their prey. Austin’s stomach turned. He fought the urge to go back and fight, knowing deep down the Captain and his crew had sacrificed their lives for this mission. But what would happen now?

  His sensors blacked out, a result of the Wraith descending through the atmosphere.

  He was alone again.

  *****

  By the time the Wraith had completed its journey through the upper atmosphere, the “Chow Hall” tug had disappeared from Austin’s scope. The image of the tug turning to face Zahlian Interceptors lingered in his mind. The Captain had sounded so fearless, so certain of his mission as he turned to face certain death. Would he be able to do the same thing? They destroyed his one chance at refueling, and the Dauntless would capture him. Should he consider swallowing the pill Val had given him on Claria?

  Austin shook his head, focusing on the ground beneath him as he burst through the cloud cover. The rocky land stretched out toward infinity in every direction. Mountains reached up with sharp edges, like boney hands with decrepit, jagged fingernails. Knowing the Dauntless would soon be in orbit, and its Interceptors were hot on his tail, Austin had activated the shroud. He knew the clock had started, his power levels draining fast.

  The shroud made him invisible to the naked eye, sure, but also enabled him to hide from any sensors searching for power levels and mask whatever tracking devices had been placed on the Wraith. The fighter itself was invisible to radar and other surveillance technology. He remembered what Val had said about the heat from his exhaust being his only weakness. If he landed, he should be able to avoid detection for eight hours or so.

  He craned his neck, banking the fighter slightly as he circled a mountain range below. A deep murky river snaked through the rough terrain directly below him. He brought the fighter lower, swinging down into the canyon. Trees and other plant life appeared on either side of the raging river as he soared overhead.

  If he could just find—there!

  Up ahead, the rocks stretched out to form a shallow cave from the canyon wall near the top, providing a canopy and partially shielding the area from the air. It would provide the perfect place to hide until … until what?

  Shaking the negative thought from his mind, he hurried to land the Wraith under the rocks. As he backed the fighter into the shallow cave, the engines blasted into the ground, shooting dust and pebbles across the landscape. The landing gear settled in place, and he killed the engines. The turbines whined, slowed, and stopped. Blood rushed into his ears, pounding with each beat of his heart.

  Well, he had landed. And he was safe for now.

  He titled his head back and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he stared at the rocks over his head for a long moment. The events leading to this moment flashed through his mind. He thought of Tia, of Val, and the entire crew of the tug. They had all died for this mission to succeed. And now he was here, hiding on this crappy moon until his power drained less than eight hours from now.

  He couldn’t escape the simple fact he had failed. Mis
sion Wraith would be forgotten, swept into a file of other classified operations.

  He opened the canopy, the sound of the river below raging. Descending the ladder and ignoring the flash of pain in his shoulder, he keyed for the canopy to close and the Wraith remained invisible. Well, for now at least.

  Deciding to keep his space suit on in the event the Dauntless ran infrared scans of the area, Austin stretched as he surveyed the canyon. It could have been a mountain range in Montana. The river flowed by several hundred yards below his position, winding through the thick hardwoods and strange purple mushrooms the size of a small car. Thick clouds moved into the area, curling over the jagged mountains like cotton candy.

  He rested his hands on his hips and sighed.

  Thunder rumbled in the air, the sound echoing off the canyons. Wait, he thought, that wasn’t thunder. He stared into the sky, heard the growl of several fighters soaring through the atmosphere. The Interceptors were searching for him right now, the Dauntless inevitably in orbit by now as well, bombarding the surface with sensors. The rocky canyon should keep him hidden. Without the shroud, though, they would detect the tracking device for sure.

  He climbed back into the cockpit and settled in, checking the power levels again. Yes, seven hours of power remaining.

  And then they would find him.

  *****

  Night fell across the alien landscape, the massive mushrooms casting long spherical shadows across the canyon floor. Just before the daylight dipped beneath the mountains, Austin caught a glimpse of two Interceptors flying in formation in the distance. Their position lights twinkled and gave him all he needed to know about the search—they knew approximately where he had descended through the atmosphere. However, they probably didn’t know how low his power levels were at the moment.

  He checked the levels again.

  They had dropped to less than ten percent—about five hours until his shroud would run out of power if he shut down every other system. Once that happened, he didn’t have enough power remaining to put up a fight. He probably wouldn’t even be able to leave orbit.

  He fiddled with the black cylinder containing the suicidal dose of poison between his fingers.

  Engines of Interceptors boomed overhead, closer this time, the roar bouncing off the canyon walls. A memory of Flin Six popped in his mind when he left Nubern in the Trident as he searched for Ryker. The thought of leaving her on the planet had kept him going through that ordeal, kept him focused on surviving.

  Alone.

  Wait a minute, he thought. He had communicated on Flin Six by using encrypted messages on the Whisper. He repeatedly listened for any sign of Ryker’s distress signal. Surely the Wraith had encryption technology, right? The ability to send a long-range message over gamma waves? There had to be something.

  Deciding it was worth the risk, he activated the dashboard and cycled through the communications. Everything was in Zahlian symbols, but he knew the frequency the Legion utilized for long range transmissions. The message would no doubt be picked up by the Dauntless, but it would get through.

  He prepped the transmission. In flight school, Ryker had trained them on using intricate code words whenever transmissions could be intercepted. Racking his brain, he tried to remember the best way to communicate through these codes. It was similar to Morse Code, but it utilized special words interlaced with the tones. It had to work. It was his only chance.

  With the message recorded, he reviewed the contents. Avoiding too many specifics, he relayed his approximate position, both in the star system and on the planet. He advised his time was running out. It made sense to him, but he hoped the receiver would understand as well. If they didn’t, well, they had to understand, or he wasn’t going to be here in a couple hours.

  He fired up the communications and sent the long range message into space, hoping it would reach someone—anyone—who was listening.

  The red alert wailed through the corridors of the Formidable. Captain Ryker “Scorpion” Zyan jumped from her bed in her quarters, spilling her morning tea. The hot beverage scalded her legs, and she furiously brushed the standing liquid to the floor. She rushed to her mirror, grabbed the towel and tossed it into the small puddle.

  Since the Formidable had transferred to the border region of space, the entire squadron had been on endless patrols into a bunch of nothingness. A marauder had appeared at the edge of their patrol range, but wisely fled into empty space instead of heading toward them or the nearest star system of Claria. This was the first time the ship had been placed on red alert since … the funeral.

  She changed into her uniform, taking a sideways glance at herself in the mirror. Her blue Tizona cap sat atop her black hair. A stray strand draped over her bloodshot eyes. Beneath her eyes, her skin puffed and darkened. Another sleepless night, filled with nightmares and images of Austin. Shaking her head, she left her quarters.

  The halls burst with activity, officers mixing with the enlisted crew as everyone rushed in different directions. She marched with purpose toward the briefing room, her flight tablet tucked under her arm. Dodging a pair of crewmen pushing a cart, she pushed through the collection of people and made her way into the briefing room. Captains Doug Lord and Lo Talad stepped into the room at the same time she did. Commander Mitchem Horace and Major Ty Braddock stood at the front, both men nearly on the tips of their toes.

  “Everyone sit down,” Braddock said, leaning forward. “We don’t have much time.”

  “The other Star Runners need to be here, sir?” Talad asked, rushing into the room and taking a seat.

  “I have them reporting to the locker rooms and preparing to fly,” Braddock barked. “Seriously, sit now. Let’s get underway.”

  Braddock waved his hand to the crew in the back of the room to close the door to the bustling corridor. “The Legion just received a message from inside Zahlian space. It’s from an asset in trouble. We have been ordered to assist in the rescue.”

  Ryker’s stomach twisted. An asset in trouble on the other side of the border could mean anything, from a spy to a downed probe. But the fact it was across the border and being mentioned in a closed-door meeting meant the Formidable was about to do something about it.

  “Captain Reece Towers will be in here in a moment,” Horace said softly, lowering his gaze. “He is prepping his men as we speak.”

  Ryker exhaled. Captain Towers was a legend throughout the Legion. His Serpents were so revered some believed them to be more myth than reality. She didn’t even know they had been brought onboard; the carrier had so many Kardas coming and going that it wasn’t surprising a team of special forces had been brought on board, but Towers’ Serpents?

  This was serious, she thought.

  The Serpents were sent in to do things the small Legion Army couldn’t, such as quell rebellions or alter the course of events on a dark world. Sometimes she heard rumors Serpents toppled governments unfriendly to the Legion on dark worlds. Ryker had heard they prevented nuclear war on a dark planet at the edge of Legion space in the last year. It was rumored they helped save the lives of several Star Runners during the recent Tyral Pirate campaign on Earth, going head-to-head with the Phantom mercenaries.

  “Captain Towers and his Serpents will be ready to fly in minutes,” Horace continued, “but it is imperative you understand this mission is off the books. There will be no flight reports, no records, no support—nothing. Therefore, the mission must be voluntary. If the mission fails, the Star Runners involved will be left in the open. There will be no rescue. Understood?”

  Talad glanced at Ryker, a smirk on his face. Ryker nodded to Braddock. She had never heard a commander of a Legion carrier speak in this way. No support? No rescue? Was he serious?

  “Very well,” Horace said. “All identification marks are being removed from a Karda in the hangar at this moment. The crew has been ordered to make this Karda look like a pirate modified it, painting over the Legion symbol and removing other marks linking it to our ship. The
transponder has been ripped out, and the Karda will be squawking nothing. It’ll go in dark and, creator willing, come out again without being recognized.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” Lord said.

  “Make it fast,” Horace said.

  “What’s the actual mission, sir?” Lord asked.

  Horace took a breath and glanced at the tablet. “We received a message from this moon.” The room’s hologram activated, displaying a sector of space just inside Zahlian territory not too far from the Formidable’s current position. The holographic image zoomed in on the system’s gas giant, Nattalee, and focused on a small habitable moon orbiting the planet. “The message provided the coordinates leading to this moon here.”

  Horace allowed his gaze to fall on each of them. “The message itself was fragmented, and parts didn’t make any sense. We believe the asset might be injured, under duress, or under fire. Our long range scans have shown the Zahlian vessel, Dauntless, is in orbit over the moon and is conducting a search of this planetary body. As you know, the Dauntless is the flagship of Sector Regent Tulin. It is imperative we get this asset off the planet ASAP, and this first stage is why we are asking for one Star Runner volunteer.”

  The hologram zoomed in on a canyon on the moon’s surface. “What the Star Runner who volunteers will have to do is pilot the Karda and deliver Towers’ men to this location. Once they have been dropped, the volunteer will exit the area as quickly as possible.”

  “Wait a minute, sir,” Talad said, “how is one Karda going to get through a blockade being carried out by a Zahlian ARC? That’s impossible.”

  Horace sighed as if he expected the question.

  “They curve into orbit,” Braddock said, taking charge of the conversation.

  “Curve into orbit?” Talad asked. “That’s … dangerous.”