by REM
Josh trailed behind him—but stopped at the final computer station to slide the Mercen tablet into his pants. He passed up Hoss on the ramp and re-drew his gun to make sure everything was clear on deck, which it was. The ocean waves surrounding the floating base were crashing violently.
Once they’d made it to Hoss’ striker, the big man opened the first aid kit and took out a spray canister. He applied its contents around Tor’s wound, which sprayed out like a gel, but firmed almost immediately. “That’s going to stop the bleeding—but you’re going to have to fly your striker home,” said Hoss.
Tor nodded, his face taut, beads of sweat rolling down his temple. “I can do it,” he said, in a drawn voice.
“Just get her into space and set her to autopilot,” said Josh.
Tor moved his head in agreement.
“Come on, let’s get him into his cockpit,” said Hoss.
When Tor was all set, the pilots blasted off from the Mercen base and set a course for the M.N. Rampage.
Chapter 2
Josh, Hoss and Tor had been flying through space for well over an hour when Josh transmitted, “Just about halfway home, Tor. How you holding up?”
“In pain,” said Tor. He grunted. “The sealant is doing its job, but hurts like a bitch if I move the wrong way.”
“You’re a tough dude, Tor. You’re going to be all right. I’m sure of it,” Hoss transmitted.
“If he doesn’t make it there’s going to be a lot of sad ladies back on Creston,” said Josh. He heard both crewmates chuckle.
Beep, bee-deet, deet. Josh peered at his radar and saw four dots come onto the screen from the east—and was unable to believe what he was seeing. “Four fighters approaching from the east! They’re not ours.”
“Ah, fuck,” Hoss blurted over the transmission. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What are the chances!?”
“You think they see us?” asked Tor.
“I’m sure of it,” Hoss responded.
“They’re in Creston territory; we’ve got to intercept,” Josh transmitted.
“Tor’s in no condition to fight. It’s practically four versus two. I don’t think we should take them on. If there are two or more marked fighters in that squadron we’re as good as dead,” said Hoss.
“So what do we do?” asked Josh.
“Stay our course. If they come for us we’ll have to outrun them.”
“Okay,” Josh responded. We could probably take ’em, but I don’t want to risk losing Tor, he thought.
They continued southeast past the point of intersection with the unknown craft. The enemy fighters were still many miles out. “Looks like we might avoid an altercation after all,” Hoss transmitted.
“Yeah, but I can’t help wondering what they’re up to. For all we know they could be carrying another weapon of mass destruction,” Josh responded.
“Anything’s possible, though I think that’s highly unlikely,” Hoss transmitted. “My guess is they’re going to the liquid planet to see if there are any Mercen survivors, or anything worth salvaging. After that they would almost surely leave Creston territory.”
Josh shrugged. “Either way it means there was something valuable on that planet.”
“They’re going to be pissed when they see we dusted the remaining Mercens,” said Tor.
“Nah,” said Hoss. “They’ll probably think it was from yesterday’s assault.”
Josh stared at the Mercen tablet he’d placed in a side compartment. Would be something if they were coming for that and it had vital intel on it. He saw the dots on his radar make a sudden veer. “Scrap that thought, Hoss. They’re coming at us—max speed!”
Hoss growled over the channel, “Give your strikers all they’ve got! They can’t catch us at top thrust.”
Josh mashed his throttle and accelerated in unison with his crewmates, while keeping a keen eye on his radar. He noticed something odd. “One of those four fighters is lagging behind the others,” he transmitted.
There was a couple seconds of dead air before Hoss responded, “Has to be some sort of transporter. Maybe even a transport/attack craft.”
They streaked through space with silence over the channel. Josh was pondering the situation in its entirety. A sense of guilt was eating at his gut. They’re in our space—and we’re the ones on the run. We have no certainty on where they’re going… for all we know there could be a second base in Creston territory—or they actually do have a weapon capable of killing massive amounts of lives armed on one of those craft. “Hoss, have you tried radioing Creston ships that might be within range?”
“Yes, there’s none.”
Josh shook his head rather subconsciously. “This feels all wrong, Hoss. We’ve got to hit them.” He heard one of his crewmates’ transmitters come online, but no one spoke.
Then, “Yeah, you’re right. They’re only one-up on us now anyway. Plus, I hate to say it, I’m actually feeling confident with your crazy ass being here,” Hoss transmitted.
Josh smirked. “Then let’s roast these turkeys, so we can head home knowing we did all we could’ve to keep Creston safe.”
“Aye,” Hoss transmitted. “Tor, you keep going to the Rampage. Don’t turn back for anything. That’s an order.”
Tor grumbled over the channel, as if uncomfortable with leaving his crewmates to battle a greater number of enemy fighters.
“No heroic shit, Tor. You get back to H.Q.; you need help,” Josh transmitted.
“Roger,” said Tor. There was a cracking in his voice. Josh could tell his old buddy truly wanted to stay and fight. “You guys be careful,” Tor transmitted, sorrowfully.
“Breaking left,” said Hoss, soaring up and curving northeast.
Josh swerved with him. Another day, another time my life’s in jeopardy. Maybe it is just a numbers game serving out here near the Void Line. “How are we doing this, Hoss?”
“I don’t know. Just watch yourself.”
And the award for plan of the year goes to… “They’re at thirty miles.”
“Play it instinctively. Get ready!”
The shadow fighters had spread, but were still approaching the strikers head-on. Josh and Hoss belted toward them, bold as brass. When they’d reached maximum attack range, Josh jabbed his trigger and sent dual beams flashing past one of the distant fighters.
“Still trying to be Dazzler?” said Hoss, sniggering.
“Laugh it up,” Josh transmitted.
The shadow fighters returned fire.
Josh and Hoss swayed away from the shots. Josh eyed the two outside fighters curling wide, approaching from odd angles. He thrust his throttle and climbed into a twist, countering the fighter at left. Hoss made a similar sortie in pursuit of the one on the right.
Thoot! Thoot! Josh and the fighter at left swerved into a crossfire. Both buckled back around into a series of tight curls before somehow shooting out of their knotting side by side. Josh glanced at the enemy craft and hit his brakes. The Mercen did the same, not allowing him to drop back to the shadow fighter’s rear.
Is that right? thought Josh, feeling a sudden urge. He steered his striker hard-left and rammed into the Mercen ship. Their shields flickered on impact. Josh grinned widely, staring at the enemy cockpit. He couldn’t see inside the black canopy but felt satisfied that the Mercen could at least see him.
The Mercen counter-thrust his ship into the striker. Josh’s cockpit shook from the collision. Yeah, this sucker’s definitely going to wind up as floating particles. He bumped the shadow fighter one last time, then rolled away in the opposite direction, and dove. The Mercen tried ramming back but spun instead since Josh’s striker had slipped away.
Swoosh! Josh slashed into a wide curve. The third shadow fighter was hot on his trail.
Josh peeked at his radar. The craft he’d been mixing it up with originally wasn’t far behind. Better they double team me anyway, he thought, shooting up into a broad loop to try and break up the Mercens’ superior positioning.
/> The closest shadow fighter followed him into the arch, the other soared into a twist. Bloody hell! Josh cut his circle short and swung down at alternate angle. His fighting turned into a nasty three-craft tangle, causing him to grunt heavily, shifting his stick in all directions. Hoss’ voice came through over the transmission: “Fuck, just lost my shield!”
“Hoss, you lose your shield in just about every fight I’ve been in with you.”
“You’d better shut it unless you want another day-one ass whooping.”
Josh smirked. “Be careful, big guy. It’s dangerous being in critical norm.” And one of these day your shield might not absorb an initial hit. “You need me over there?”
“No, I’m fine. This Mercen’s good, but I can take him.”
Please let him survive this shit…
Thoot! Thoot! Lasers blazed by the side of Josh’s striker. Not even close, he thought, zagging into a tight corkscrew and slicing south. He raced into an angled loop, squeezing his trigger midway. Boom! One of the shadow fighters burst into flames. Wow, didn’t even have a shield up. “Got one! Come on, Hoss, you’re not going to make me do all the work now, are ya?”
“You cocky bastard. Made it to this guy’s rear. I’m trying to seal the deal.”
“Looks like whatever type of transport ship these fighters were escorting is idled northeast. I’m guessing it’s going to try and flee for Mercen territory if we secure the advantage.”
“Yes. Whichever one of us gets the next kill needs to go after that transport and shoot it down!”
“Copy that.” Josh cut away from an enemy shot and whirled his striker to avoid another.
“Heads up! We’re coming your way,” Hoss transmitted.
Josh glanced at his radar and then to the direction in which Hoss and the shadow fighter were approaching. Beeping sounded from his dash. He slapped a hand instantly to the mini-missiles button upon seeing a projectile had been launched from the fighter at his rear. Another idiot trying to use a missi—wait, no! Josh slammed his stick to a front corner just as the enemy projectile exploded into a clear, pancake-shaped blast. The shockwave missed most of his ship, but connected with the striker’s tail end.
“Shield’s up this time, buddy!” Josh muttered, descending at a slant. He saw a glitch in his targeting system. The screen became quickly scrambled. What the… he thought, pressing multiple buttons. But his display maintained its fried appearance.
“What in the hell was that?” Hoss transmitted.
“Some kind of new Mercen tech. I saw it when flying out from Skurier a while back. It debilitates our computer systems. My targeting screen and cannons are out.”
“That makes you a sitting duck!”
“The effects didn’t last long before. I think my systems should revert soon.”
“I hope you’re right—for both of our sakes. Did you report this tech discovery to Commander Clint?!”
“No.”
“You should’ve. Always report shit like that.”
“Gotcha,” Josh responded, thinking, Pretty sure Commander Clint already knows about it. If there was a counter available it’d already be installed. A few seconds later he found himself in a tangle with Hoss and both shadow fighters. When Hoss flew out from the mix, so did Josh, right along the big man’s wing. They zoomed southwest with the two shadow fighters right behind them.
“I’m at your five,” Josh transmitted.
“The snake’s got a lock on me! I can feel it, he’s going to fire!”
Josh saw Hoss zig, and began taking evasive actions of his own.
Hoss veered hard-left. Josh kept at his side.
“I’m going to hook back, see if I can lure them both,” Josh transmitted.
“He’s got a lock!” Hoss responded.
“Fade left! I’m making my…” Josh’s words were cut short by his instincts—and a glimmer of light reflecting from his rear. He thrust his stick to the left and cut directly behind Hoss. There was a loud thoosh! His cockpit shook wildly as his shield flickered away. He tugged his controller to the opposite side, seeing Hoss fading left.
“You crazy son of a bitch! I can’t believe you did that!” Hoss transmitted.
“You’re welcome. And I definitely can’t do it again, so watch your ass, Hoss! That was too close.”
“I owe you big time for that!”
“You can pay me back by dusting that sucker.” Josh checked his radar. The shadow fighters had split after both strikers. There was static from the dash, after which his targeting screen and laser indicator returned to normal. Thank goodness. He gave his thrusters everything they had and climbed at max speed, first at a steep rise, then straight up before twisting into a skewed dive. Josh curved in the enemy fighter’s direction and fired a shot that broke its shield.
Next one’s for the money. He stayed tight on the evading fighter’s tail, flying through sharp maneuvers, till pressing his thumb down on the trigger again. This time—the shadow fighter exploded. Line ’em up and I’ll knock them down! He twisted his neck to the right, seeing another huge ball of flames in the distance—but couldn’t tell which fighter had been destroyed.
Before he could verify the casualty on his dash, Josh heard Hoss transmit: “Satisfied, rookie?! That Mercen was good, but no match for big Hoss.”
Josh laughed over the transmission, and had a feeling Hoss was smiling too. “Are you forgetting about that shot I blocked already?”
Hoss’ face popped up on Josh’s main monitor. “Nope, I still owe ya. But you never know, it might have missed,” he said, with a wink. “I’ve been flying these parts for a long time, and I can tell you right now: that Mercen was a marked fighter in training, or something close. You got the easier ones. That’s why they sent two on you.”
Way to save face, Hoss. Way to save face, thought Josh, still smirking. The big boy needs his pride. “Yep, I think you’re right,” he responded, then remembered the transporter, seeing it flying east.
“Already on it,” Hoss transmitted, as his face disappeared from the screen.
“I’m coming,” said Josh, pushing his throttle. Before he could catch up, the Mercen transporter blew into pieces from Hoss’ missiles and lasers.
“Aaah, Creston space is nice and clean,” Hoss transmitted. “That’s two kills apiece, hotshot.”
Josh laughed. “Seriously, Hoss?”
“Time for home sweet home. Let’s get back to the Rampage and hope that Tor is all right.”
“Roger that,” Josh responded.
They flew southeast toward the M.N Rampage. When they’d made it to within a thousand miles of the mothership, four strikers appeared on radar. It took only a couple of seconds for Josh’s computer to identify the craft and names to display on the side of his screen.
“Heard you boys were in trouble!” reservist Tyson transmitted.
“Four enemies. Josh and I blew up all of them,” Hoss responded.
“That’s right!” Josh transmitted.
“They must’ve been really bad then,” said a reservist, chuckling.
“Or we were just really good,” Josh transmitted, with a cool smirk.
“Woot, woot!” barked Hoss over the channel.
There were more chuckles from a couple of the pilots.
“We’re heading out there now,” said Tyson.
“Be careful. The Mercens might send a bigger force if there’s something of value on the liquid planet. We checked it out and didn’t find anything. But you never know,” Hoss transmitted.
“Aye. We’ll be on high alert,” Tyson responded.
Not long after, Josh and Hoss landed on the M.N. Rampage and headed straight for the third unit. En route, Officer Rolly stopped the pair while rounding a corner behind them. “Hoss, I need you to come with me for a debriefing.”
“Yes, sir,” said Hoss.
“What’s that in your hand?” said Rolly, eyeing the tablet Josh had taken from the Mercen base.
“It’s from the facility on the
liquid planet,” Josh replied.
“I’ll take that with me,” said Rolly.
“Yes, sir,” said Josh, walking over and handing it to the officer. “How is Tor?”
“He’s in the medical unit. He should pull through. Reena’s condition is improving too.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Josh.
Rolly narrowed his eyes while inspecting the enemy tablet. He turned it over a few times, then looked up and said, “My office,” to Hoss, before turning to lead the way.
Josh entered the third unit. Kyle was sitting on the couch in front of the big screen and didn’t pay him much mind. Jill was drawing at the main table.
“Hi, Josh,” said Jill, looking up from her sketch. “We all heard about what happened to you three patrolling the Mercen’s secret route.”
Josh nodded and asked, “Where’s everyone else?”
“Maya’s with Tor. Nate’s with Reena,” she responded. “Ace is in his room.”
“Anything exciting happen with your group?”
“Nope. Pretty standard patrol,” Jill replied, glancing up.
Josh took a look at her work and said, “I didn’t know you could draw so well.”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
“True.”
“You going to go see Tor?”
“Yeah. I’ll go to my room real fast then head up there. Have any of you seen him?”
She nodded. “We saw him when he’d landed, and were told to visit him later. Maya waited here for a bit, but decided to go wait for him upstairs.”
Josh glanced at Kyle, who was captivated by a space war movie. “All right. I’ma head to my room.” He took another look down at the flowery portrait Jill was working on.
“’K,” she replied.
Josh went to his room and slipped out of his flight suit and into his standard uniform, which was grey and tight-fitting. He turned for the door—then stopped. He walked over to his locker and opened it up, followed by shifting a few things around on one of the shelves. The green rubbery substance the alien had used to heal my skin when I was abducted is gone… He searched throughout all parts of the locker and then scanned the floor. Ven’s dead; who the heck could’ve taken it?