Star Runners 2: Revelation Protocol (22 page)

“Waylon,” he said, his voice soft and gentle like a grandfather, “I think I speak for all of us when I say we are glad to have you back. You have been missed.”

“Thank you, Pa. Thank you.”

Josh held his breath, knowing what would come next.

“What happened, Waylon? Where are the others? Drexel? Gate? Acks?” Pa held his hands outward. “Are they on another ship? Should we go get them?”

Waylon held up his hand and slowly stood. He suddenly looked much older as if gravity pulled at his face. After exhaling a long breath, Waylon launched into the story. He recounted their capture by Dax Rodon and the Tyral Pirates. Skipping over some of the more gruesome aspects of their captivity, Waylon explained their hard labor from mining to stripping freighters to tilling the ground on the unnamed planet. When he came to the farm, his speech became labored and shaky. He told of the abuse, discussed the management of Cyclops, and, finally, as if he tried to avoid coming to this part in the story, he discussed the deaths of his men. The group stopped eating, then they stopped moving.

And they cried.

The men comforted the crying women and children. Josh stared at the bowl, his appetite disappearing like a lit match on a beach. He listened as the group consoled one another. He stayed quiet in the corner, watching this family deal with the worst possible news.

A large man sat across the table from Josh. He showed none of the emotion of the rest of the Barracudas. A foot-long knife hung at his belt on one side. A pistol was tucked into a holster at the other side.

“I should have been there,” the man grumbled, rubbing his black beard.

Josh shifted in his seat. “You wouldn’t have wanted to be there.”

“How do you know what I want?”

Josh frowned. “You’re alive. Being a captive of the Tyral Pirates is no way to live.”

The man leaned over the table. “Name’s Tocol.”

“I’m Josh.”

“Where you from Josh?”

              “Earth.”

              “Been there once,” Tocol said, sipping on a drink from a metal container. “Didn’t take.”

              “Maybe you didn’t visit the right part of it.”

              “Picked up a package in the snow on one of the poles. I can’t even remember what it was.” He shrugged. “Just a job in a lifetime of jobs.”

              “I’ve never been to the poles.”

              “So what did you do?”

              Josh thought a moment. “I’m a Legion Star Runner.”

              “I know that much.” Tocol took another drink. “I meant before your days with the Legion.”

              “I’ll try to think that far back.” Josh nodded, staring into the bowl. “I was a student. I played football.”

              Tocol laughed. “Football? Putting my foot on a ball doesn’t sound like any game I’d want to play.”

              For the first time since he’s arrival, Josh laughed. “Put that way, I don’t want to play either.”

              A small woman carrying a metal lunchbox walked up to him. She placed the box on the table and opened it. Pulling out a bandage and a spray can, she stepped over to Josh.

              “For your ear,” she said in a high-pitched voice.

              “Oh, okay,” Josh said. He leaned forward. “Do you want me to, ah, lean forward or something?”

              “Just going to clean it up.” She sprayed his ear, filling the air with the smell of alcohol.             

              “Yow.” Josh clenched his teeth.

              “Oh, come on,” Tocol said. “Be a man.”

              “Almost done,” the woman said. “I’m Matta.”

              “Oh.” Josh winced. “Josh.”

              “I know.” She placed the spray can on the table and attached the bandage on his ear. Pressing it gently to his ear, she smiled. “Who did this to you?”

              Josh closed his eyes, ignoring the pain flashing through his body. “Pirate pilot.”

              “Did you get him?” Tocol sneered.

              “We got him.” Josh nodded.

              The sound of a radio squawked through the cavern.

“Ah, everybody,” a voice crackled over an intercom system embedded in the rock, “the
Traveler
has landed. We need some help with unloading.”

Waylon wiped his face and stood. He took two steps toward the end of cavern and stopped. Josh followed his gaze.

“You’re back,” Waylon said.

A woman in a gray one-piece mechanics coverall stood at the entrance. Her hair folded like strips of dried brow rope under a small cap. Grease smeared across her smiling face. Her eyes filled to the brim.

Josh leaned close to Tocol. “Who is that?”

“His wife, Tyra.”

Josh stared at Waylon.

“I thought you were dead,” the woman said.

Waylon placed his hand over his mouth. “Tyra.”

A young boy stood at her thigh. He stared into the room, his eyes wide.

“Daddy!”

Waylon embraced his family as the rest of the Barracudas
watched. Josh watched the man he spent months around, the man he didn’t really know. Waylon kissed Tyra on the forehead and rubbed the boy’s hair.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” Waylon said, pointing at Josh. “This is my friend. He helped me escape.”

“We helped each other,” Josh said.

Tyra stared at him and smiled. She walked toward him slowly, taking off her hat. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders. Her chin quivered.

“And your name?” she asked.

“I’m Josh, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” She turned back to Waylon, a playful smile on her face. “It’s just plain Tyra around here. And you are most welcome to join us.”

Waylon held the boy high, wrapping him around his shoulders. The boy giggled. “This here is my son Cornic, but we call him Scrappy.”

The group sat back at the table. Pa offered Josh another bowl of soup. By the end of this one, Josh’s stomach grumbled and turned over. He leaned back into his seat and burped. Josh listened to the Barracudas
talk about business and events around Quadrant Eight. Tyra had returned from a delivery of livestock, apparently for a significant profit. The others talked of Tyral Pirate attacks, new Legion trade regulations and the Zahl-Legion cold war. The talk lingered on the politics and events, but dipped into personal discussions as the group brought Waylon up to speed on the personal happenings of the smuggling group.

For a long moment, Josh felt he sat around the family dinner table. A calmness fell over him. Of course, it might have been the effect of the first full stomach he had enjoyed in months. He felt light headed and happy. It was a moment from his past, a moment he knew couldn’t last.

An hour passed. Tyra cleared the plates with her son. The conversation slackened, replaced by grunts and sighs signifying full stomachs.

Waylon stood, taking a slow drink from something that looked like a thermos. “Okay, Josh, I need to make some introductions.”

He stood behind three of the largest men in the room. “This is Tocol, who I think you’ve met. These are his brothers Moda and Drad.”

The men nodded.

“And what do they do?” Josh asked.

Waylon glanced at them. “Besides eat a lot, they help convince other businessmen to, well, accept our deal.” He pointed to a petite woman at the end of the table. Two men sat on either side of the woman. “That’s Matta, a great pilot. Her brother, Lark, also a pilot. And Rist, who claims to be a pilot.”

“Funny,” Rist said, rubbing the stubble on his face.

“Nice to meet you all,” Josh said with a smile.

“I wish we could say the same,” Rist said, glaring at Josh.

Waylon slapped the table. “This is a friendly place, Rist. Josh is our guest.”

“I know that!” Rist snapped. “I also know a Star Runner wouldn’t be here unless he was desperate.” He stared at Josh. “When are you going to get to the point? Why are you here and what do you want?”

“We were captured and we escaped together!” Waylon yelled. “And you will stop with this questioning.”

“It’s okay, Waylon. I understand.” Josh cleared his throat and stood on shaky legs at the end of the table. “I’d like to say something, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Waylon waved forward. “You are welcome to say whatever you want.” He eyed Rist. “You are one of us now.”

Josh’s face warmed. “Thank you. That means a lot. I want to ask for your help.”

“How so?” Pa asked.

“I need to attack the main Tyral base.”

Laughter echoed around the hall.

“And I’d like a golden chamber pot!” Tocol yelled.

Waylon held his hand high.

“Let him finish.” He looked at Josh. “Go ahead.”

“We know Rodon plans to attack a dark world, so most of his forces are probably massed somewhere else. We found a way station on the planet where we were held captive. This would allow the pirates to strike deep into the rear of the Legion worlds.”

“Yeah,” Rist grumbled, “what’s that got to do with us?”

“I know you have been dealing with the pirates the same as the Legion,” Josh said, feeling suddenly as if he treaded water. “If they expand their base of operations, if they continue to utilize this support from wherever they are getting it and take an entire world for their use, they will be unstoppable and you will be out of business. We have the location of their main base on the fighter we stole. We know where they are. We just have to get to them.”

Silence hung over the table like smog. Some people looked at one another. Others stared at the table.

“He’s right,” Waylon said, his eyes locking with Josh’s. “And what about our men they killed? My men … are we just going to let them die in vain? Are we going to let Rodon think he can prey on these space lanes forever?”

“But we could lose everything if we attack,” Rist said.

“And we could lose everything if we do nothing, Rist.” Waylon stood to his full height and towered over the table. “I for one don’t want to sit around and let these pirates rule over our destiny any longer than we have to.”

Slowly, nods spread around the table. Waylon grinned and placed his hands on the table.

“Yes,” Tocol whispered, glancing at the others around the table. “Yes.”

Waylon looked at the rest of the group and nodded. “We’re with you, Star Runner,” he said, his voice deep. “When do we leave?” 

The corridor shook. The lights flickered and a second shockwave rocked his feet. He kicked through the frigid water now down to his shins. Austin thought of the thousands of feet of water between Atlantis and the ocean’s surface.

These walls better hold
.

An explosion rumbled, this time closer than before. He reached for the hand railing to balance. Sparks showered onto him, fizzling out when they hit the water. He kept making his way toward the civilian hangar. He hoped that Nubern—and the Tridents—would still be there.

Water fell from the ceiling, hitting his face, feeling like ice. The Tyral Pirates had destroyed the main hangar in their first move and tried to take out command. If the recent explosions had come from the civilian hangar, Austin could be rushing to his death.

He pressed the headset to his mouth as he ran. “Officer Brannen, do you copy? This is Lieutenant Stone.”

“Copy Stone. Go ahead.”

“More explosions on this side of the base. Should I proceed?”

“Affirmative. We destroyed an inbound bogey.”

Shutting the headset off, he turned the corner, saw the hangar door, and exhaled.

As he reached the hangar door, he stopped. Dirty blackish water covered the floor, washing debris in all directions. A freighter burned to his left. A beam from the hangar’s ceiling had fallen onto the hull. Most of freighters from the previous time he came through the hangar had left. The six Tridents remained parked at the far side of the hangar. Crew hurried over the hulls, running through the startup sequence.

“Stone! Get over here!”

Austin saw a figure, hands on his hips, standing on the nose of a Trident. He couldn’t make out the face at this distance, but knew it was Nubern. He ran through the water and across the hangar.

“Captain,” he said, breathing heavily, “ready to assist, sir.”

A red gash split Nubern’s cheek. His flight suit a dark blue and dripping water. “Any idea on the recent explosions?”

“The cannon and alert fighters have taken out an inbound vessel.”

“Alright, Stone,” Nubern said as if he had not heard Austin speak, “you’re just in time. We’re prepping the six Tridents we have in reserve for defense and we have four pilots—now five.”

“Five against fifty?”

Nubern blinked. “Who said anything about fifty? Before our sensors were knocked out we saw six vessels coming in on the ocean floor. Where did fifty come from?”

Austin frowned. “Six under water and fifty in orbit.”

“My God,” he breathed. He straightened his flight suit. “Where are they headed? Base Prime?”

“No. Here.”

Nubern looked at him. “Here? Atlantis?”

Austin nodded. “That’s the target. Fifty pirate fighters are coming in. We’re all that’s left to defend Atlantis.”

“If that’s the way it has to be then.” Nubern dropped down into the cockpit. “Take number three, Stone. It’s time to go.”

Austin sprinted to the number three Trident fighter. A crewman handed him a Lobera green helmet. Austin frowned, but glanced at the other four pilots boarding their Tridents. Two red flight suits from Excalibur squadron, a green Lobera recruit, and Nubern in his Tizona blue.

“Where’s the pilot?” Austin asked, turning back to the crewman.

The crewman glanced over at a fallen beam and debris. “He’s not flying today.”

Austin swallowed. “What’s your name?”

“Crewman Tyce, sir.”

“Got it, Tyce. I’m Rock.” Austin nodded and sat in the cockpit of what was now his Trident. “Let’s start preflight and let’s do it fast.”

The whine of Trident engines filled the hangar in minutes. The crewman slapped Austin on the helmet and climbed down from the fighter. Austin gave him a thumbs up and closed the canopy. The hum of electronics replaced the roar of the engines. Austin finished his startup sequence and put on his helmet.

“Rock, this is Talon. You ready?”

Austin slapped down his visor. “Yes, sir.”

“Attention all of you,” Nubern said over the radio. “I’m Captain Nubern and I’m in charge of this flight. I just spoke with Command. We have been ordered to engage the incoming fighters.”

“What about the ocean floor attack?” another pilot, sounding much younger, asked.

“We concentrate on the fighters coming in. They’re entering the atmosphere as we speak, heading directly for our location. Let Atlantis defend itself down here or there won’t be anything left to defend. We’re better than they are. These are pirates. We’re Legion Star Runners. Let’s get up there and show them what that means.”

“I count fifty-three,” the same pilot said. “What good are we going to be against that?”

“Then we better see how many we can drop on the first pass. Let’s go!”

The Tridents lifted off simultaneously, flying toward the hangar’s airlock. One-by-one, the fighters locked into position in the smaller airlock created for interplanetary shuttle traffic rather than the freighters. Austin cracked his knuckles as the hatch closed behind them. His heart raced, thumping through the flight suit. He took a deep breath.

“Telmi, Dart,” Nubern said, “check your sensors. See these bandits drifting off the pack and trying to attack from the west?”

“Copy,” the two Excalibur pilots answered in unison.

“I want you two to head in that direction and drop what you can. Those are stolen Tridents. They have the only shields capable of withstanding the depths of Atlantis. They could dive and attack from below. They must be taken out at all costs. The other bandits will most likely bomb from the air.”

Austin looked at the sensors. Six bandits moved away from the pack, heading on a direct course with the ocean.

“Rock, you take the bandits to the east. The rookie, Dizzy, will stay with me and take’em head on.” Nubern took a deep breath. “Once this airlock hatch opens, I want you screaming hard for the surface, top speed you can manage.”

“Yes, sir,” Austin said, his throat swelling up.

“Do what you can,” Nubern said. “I know it looks grim, but we’re all that’s left. Do this for your comrades in the hangar. Do this for the officers still fighting on board Atlantis. Do this for yourselves. Without us, the Legion will lose Atlantis and Earth today. That’s not going to happen.”

“No, sir!” the other pilots yelled, screeching static into the headset.

“It’s been a pleasure, sir,” Austin said softly without transmitting.

His fingers rested lightly on the stick. He fingered the throttle with his right hand. Water bubbled over the canopy.
Not long now.

The blue lights of the airlock transitioned to yellow. The airlock hatch rumbled open. 

“For the Legion,” Nubern said.

The lights went green. Austin slammed his throttle forward. Bubbles and white water swirled around the canopy as his Trident shot into the darkness. He focused on his sensors and navigated the dark, cold depths of the Pacific Ocean. It felt similar to flying through space. The Excalibur pilots scrambled toward the west as instructed. Nubern and the rookie remained in the center. Austin altered course, bringing his nose to bear on the fighters moving in from the east. 

Austin had faced worse. He and Josh overcame impossible situations every time they played on the
Star Runners
elite server. These mercenaries would lack the training of the Legion Navy. They would lack the discipline. They would be no different than the newbies on the server. Right?

The situation differed now, he thought. Josh did not fly on his wing in one of the Tridents, and he did not know if these pirates had any skills. In two minutes, he would find out.

Light from above shifted the water from blackness to a dull blue. The Trident burst into the sunlight, free from the resistance of maneuvering through water. He spun his fighter through the air, maintaining his nose his assigned targets. Beads of water clumped on his canopy before clearing. Fifty-three tiny dots appeared in the sky like black stars.

This is suicide.

He shook his head, gripping the stick tighter. He transferred most of his power to the lasers. With this amount of potential incoming fire, shields wouldn’t make much of a difference. He would just make himself impossible to hit.

For the first time all day, he smiled.

Having mercenaries and pirates shoot at you on the ground is one thing, but this is different. This is almost unfair.

For them.

He smiled.
I know I can take all of these bandits myself. I have to stay frosty. Hit’em and move. Hit’em and move. Don’t stay on one target. Move and move fast.

He had missed flying. He had missed it so much.

“One minute to engage,” Nubern said. “Good hunting!”

The distance closed. Austin risked a glance at the target identification. He grinded his teeth. So it was true. After all of their speculating and wondering, the evidence swarmed directly in front of him.

Tyral Pirates.

How did they get here?

The captured
Sabre
flashed in his mind. He thought of Josh being executed by pirates and thugs. His best friend dying at the hands of the garbage of the universe.

“Why aren’t they firing missiles?” Dizzy asked.

“We’re not waiting to find out,” Nubern said.

Thirty seconds.

“This is it!” Nubern barked.

To the west, the sky ignited in laser fire. The Excalibur pilots engaged the pirate Tridents, the fighters swarming together like gnats. Austin chose his target, clicking on the distant outline of a Tyral Pirate fighter with his thumb on the stick. A red bolt shot past his canopy.

Here we go.

Austin dropped within range, the laser fire surrounding his fighter, but he waited for missile lock. He rolled, trying to make his fighter a more difficult target while maintaining his lock on the bandit. The pirate maintained his course directly for Austin. The range dropped. Closer. Closer.

The pirate fighter pulled up, ending the game of chicken. Austin squeezed the trigger, unleashing a lethal missile shot into the enemy fighter’s belly. The fighter vaporized in a ball of fire and light. Fragments shot across the sky.

“They’re too fast!” yelled the rookie, Dizzy.

“Stay with me!” Nubern barked. “Bandits! Below you! Dizzy—roll! Roll!”

“I’m hit! I—“

Dizzy’s transponder disappeared from the sensors.

“Heading your way, Talon,” Austin said, biting his lip.

Austin pulled back on the stick, finding another target. He steadied his course, centering his crosshairs on another enemy. He fired his lasers into the pirate. The fighter exploded the same as the last. He fired again and again, his lasers and missiles finding targets wherever he found them. He rolled. He dropped. He looped. Targets filled the sky. The minimal power left in the energy banks for his shields crackled, burning as the bolts surrounding him like a meteor shower. The shields dropped, fizzled and faded. But he slid between the crackling laser bolts and blindly fired missiles.

Telmi disappeared from the sensors. Austin clenched his teeth and closed in on a damaged enemy fighter. He pounded his target with laser fire, following him nearly to the ocean surface. Austin pulled up. The pirate craft smashed into the water, sending debris flickering across the ocean’s surface.

As Austin pulled up and shot into the sky at a ninety-degree angle, he allowed his laser energy banks to recharge. He shot through the chaos. An orange ring flashed across the sky, transitioning to a black cloud.

“Talon, Dart,” the gamma wave crackled. “I’m hit. We let a Trident slip through. It’s heading for the surface.”

“We’re on it,” Nubern said. “Pull out. Get to safety.”

Dart vanished from the sensors.

“Dart?” Nubern asked. “Dart?”

“He’s gone!” Austin yelled.

“Rock, can you get that last Trident?”

“I’m on it.” The G-forces pushed Austin back into his seat, his helmet rocking.

He pulled away from the fighters he had engaged, locking his targeting computer on the enemy Trident descending toward the ocean. Swinging his fighter around, Austin powered forward toward the bandit.

The enemy Trident flew directly into the ocean, disappearing into the dark blue water.

“He’s gone deep,” Austin said, transferring power into his shields. “I’m after him.”

“Hurry,” Nubern said, his voice straining. “That’s the last fighter they have that can withstand the pressure. If he gets in close, he’ll be able to join in the attack on Atlantis.”

“Roger.”

Austin dropped his crosshairs on the position where the enemy had submerged. He braced himself, resisting every urge to pull up. With his shields nearly at maximum, Austin’s Trident flew into the ocean. The impact slowed his descent, but the shields pushed the water away from the ship. Austin’s head moved forward. He sat up straight, and stared at the targeting computer.

Directly ahead, the enemy fighter zeroed in on Atlantis. The fighter seemed to be heading for the civilian hangar. Looking up from his sensors and peering into the ocean’s darkness, Austin couldn’t see anything, relying solely on his sensors. The crosshairs blinked yellow as it searched for a lock.