Scorpions (Star Runners Book 4)

by L. E. Thomas

  The Trident vibrated, the wings glowing as surrounding space wavered. Austin stretched his fingers one more time, feeling sweat on his palms. Swallowing, he cleared his throat as the drive ticked down.

  “See you on the other side,” he said, closing his eyes and saying a silent prayer.

  “You got it, buddy.”

  The curve in space opened in front of his Trident’s nose. The fighter passed through. Light flashed like a thunderstorm around his cockpit for an instant. Space glowed, and normalized.

  “Now!” he yelled.

  Yanking back on the throttle, he pulled back on the stick. The Trident looped around before the curve completely closed behind it. He slammed the throttle forward, knowing if his calculations had been wrong his fighter would be near the enemy force. The Trident shot through the remnants of the curve, flickers of light spinning into the darkness.

  He shook his head. The Trident’s thrust slammed him back into his seat. His vision returned to normal. Although he had been training to fly without his sensors, he risked a glance. Fourteen bogeys loomed in a line, heading away from their position. Bear’s Trident formed on his left, the wings rocking.

  “Bear, you with me?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “Copy, Rock.” He paused. “Missiles warmed and ready.”

  “You take the left of the formation. I got right.”

  “Here goes nothing.”

  Austin took one glance at his friend. “Happy hunting.”

  Bear didn’t respond.

  Lowering his gaze, Austin veered toward the formation’s edge. The force looked like a mismatch of stolen Tridents and other small craft. Any second, the enemy would notice the two bandits on their six. Team One and Two were still out of range.

  His crosshairs fell onto the closest bogey, blinking yellow. The bogey panicked, pulling away from the formation.

  Surprise.

  The crosshairs burned red. He squeezed the trigger, moving immediately to the next, not watching his missile scream toward its target. Working his way up the line, he fired until he extinguished his missiles. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw projectiles filling the darkness from Bear’s position. His friend added to the carnage, unleashing a barrage of missiles into the formation. Fireballs flashed, the warlord’s fighters spinning in all directions in fiery deaths.

  A WINLOCK PRESS BOOK

  ISBN (eBook): 978-1-68261-343-6

  STAR RUNNERS 4

  Scorpions

  © 2016 by L.E. Thomas

  All Rights Reserved

  Edited by Monique Happy Editorial Services

  Cover art by Kelly A. Martin

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

  Join Winlock’s spam-free mailing list to find out about the latest releases and giveaways.

  Please visit L.E. Thomas’ website: www.starrunners.net

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Part One: Illusions

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Part Two: Fifteen Months Earlier

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Part Three: Now

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Part Four: Extraction

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  About The Author

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I have been waiting to share this episode in Star Runners since I first sat down to write the first book in 2013. In a way, those very first steps were setting the foundation of this novel. At that time, I never imagined that so many readers would enjoy the tales of Austin, Skylar, Bear, and all the others. Your support has meant more than words could ever express on paper. Some of you—Tonia, Connor, Ethan, Sarah, Justin, Guy, Randy, Andy, and many, many more—have been there since the beginning.

  Star Runners: Scorpions was also a very personal journey for me, one I hope you enjoy taking.

  More books are on the way, so I will see you then.

  For now, stay frosty!

  L.E. Thomas

  August 2016

  PROLOGUE

  Lieutenant Aaron Dorman watched his wingman’s Trident pass through the curve. Space rippled and shimmered, swallowing the fighter and disappearing.

  My turn.

  His curvature drive opened the rift in space, and he eased forward on the throttle. The long-range patrol mission had been just as exciting as expected, which meant absolutely nothing happened.

  When his Parazonium-class carrier, Stalwart, was assigned to the sector of space near the remote science station Ramelle, the Star Runners all expected the worst regarding boring patrols on the border. While the Zahl-Legion border was relatively close, no systems existed for light years on either side. The closest Zahlian world was Claria; a world Dorman was glad he would never have to visit. Stories of genetic enhancements and body alterations coming from that place sent shivers down his spine. Next time he came up on leave, he’d much rather spend time on the beaches of Oma.

  The Trident approached the curve, opening to return him to his ship. Leaning back in his cockpit, he took a deep breath and wondered what the cook had prepared for—

  A wave of blue lightning filled the void around his Trident. Sparks spit from the cockpit, and the controls went dark. His curvature drive whistled and wound down. Space normalized in front of his fighter. The Trident dipped forward, inertia tilting him into a spin as the systems faded into nothing. Even the life support had failed.

  Dorman clenched his teeth. A powerful stunner.

  With his eyes wide and pulse racing, he searched the space around his spacecraft. Behind him, two Interceptors of the Zahl Empire approached. They must have fired a system disruptor and stunner at the same time!

  Frantic, he keyed for a long-range transmission. “Mayday, mayday. This is Red Storm on flight echo-hotel-seven-four. I am under attack. Repeat: I am under attack.”

  The control board remained dark. Hopeless.

  A star beamed in the distance, growing larger. His heart sank. It wasn’t a star. It was a ship utilizing a Lutimite Drive. In an instant, a Zahlian capital ship dropped into the area. Dorman pounded the control board, trying to wake his onboard systems.

  But it was useless.

  Wait a minute.

  He was in Legion space. Surely the Zahl vessel had arrived to render assistance…

  “He’s dead, sir.”

&n
bsp; Captain Rufino Rampa clenched his jaw, watching as the Star Runner’s body twitched. The man, who had been brought here last month, lost control of his bodily functions in the final moments of the procedure. The file said his name was Lieutenant Aaron Dorman, one of the latest subjects to arrive on Nesteel and expire. Dorman had been the third failure of the day.

  “Moving on,” Captain Rampa said. He stared at the tablet in his hand. “Who is next?”

  The technician, a young man named Daren Suh, studied his tablet. He wore a shimmering black lab coat reflecting the florescent lighting of the underground bunker. They were located far from the heavily traveled space lanes of the Zahlian Empire.

  Suh made a smacking sound with his lips. “Let’s see,” he said, releasing a sound between a grunt and a moan. “We have several. There are two captured from a recent sweeping action on the frontier. We also have the three new Star Runners brought in earlier this week.”

  Rampa smiled. “Splendid.”

  As they strolled down the hall toward the next observation room, Rampa thought of the good fortune he’d received in the past four days. Thanks to the activity inside the border earlier this week, he had a new group of Legion Star Runners to use for his experiments. He had learned little about why the Star Runners were captured or how. The admiral only said they were caught in Zahlian Territory in unmarked Tridents and carried no identification. As a result, they had no rights as Legion officers.

  “I’d like to conduct the next experiment on one of the new Star Runners,” Rampa said, lowering his voice. “If we could get this to work on one of them, that would certainly get us closer to accomplishing our goal.”

  “Very well, Captain,” Suh said, typing into his tablet. “I’ll have one of the subjects brought in immediately.”

  Rampa nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he stepped in front of the operation room and the two-way mirror. The thick glass capable of withstanding a laser bolt stood between him and the room’s contents. A metal chair protruded from the stainless steel floor. A shiny drain reflected light from the center of the room, allowing for efficient cleaning after a completed procedure. Only four such rooms existed on Nesteel, and each required frequent attention.

  Zahlian Marines forced a restrained Star Runner wearing a non-descriptive tan coverall into the chamber. The man had bruises under both eyes and blood trickling from his nose. Rampa remembered him being interrogated the previous night. Command insisted on providing Zahlian Agents to his base. These agents questioned Star Runners for hours and received no useful information.

  The Marines strapped him to the chair and left the room.

  Believing he was alone, the Star Runner wept. Rampa watched the man cry, his body convulsing as tears fell down his face.

  “Proceed,” Rampa said with a sigh and leaned against the glass.

  The ceiling retracted, and the Star Runner stopped crying. A silver orb descended. The Star Runner struggled against the straps, his body writhing under the restraints until his wrists bled. The sphere stopped, and the Star Runner stared at it with wide eyes, sweat beads forming on his forehead.

  A robotic clamp shot from the orb, pressing the Star Runner’s head into the chair. With his head secure, two other arms extended from the circle and moved toward his temples. They halted at the side of his face and started spinning, releasing a soft whine.

  Rampa glanced at his tablet and saw a three-dimensional image of the man’s brain. Drills entered into the man’s skull, penetrating bone and entering soft tissue. The Star Runner shrieked, unleashing a sound born more of terror than pain. The metal arms would clear the way for the implant. Following an adjustment period, these technicians would be able to monitor the success of the—

  “Captain, you have a communication coming in marked ‘Gold Priority.’”

  “Gold?” Rampa blinked. He gestured to the empty operation room. “Have the patient moved to operation room B and strapped in. Do not proceed without my authorization.”

  Suh bowed. “As you wish, Captain.”

  Rampa marched down the hall away from the man, hiding his discontent. His former assistant, Nik O’Paul, had been more efficient and always provided more detailed reports. When given an operation of this nature, detailed reports were what separated success from failure. Suh was merely … competent.

  O’Paul had been pulled away from this operation nearly a year ago. The young scientist was called in to work on Sector Regent Knox Tulin’s secret project. The Empire poured many resources into Tulin’s dream, whatever it had been. Because of his prominence in the political faction calling for expansion, some guessed Tulin’s project was a new planetary weapon. Others thought it was a new type of space fighter capable of rendering the Legion’s Trident obsolete. Whatever the reason, O’Paul had been reassigned and died on board the Dauntless following its reactor accident.

  Rampa heard all the rumors and knew the news of the accident was rubbish. While the Zahlian All-purpose Response Cruiser, or ARC, was new enough to require bugs to be ironed out of the system, he knew a “reactor accident” was out of the question. Something had happened on board the Dauntless, and O’Paul was now dead, leaving Rampa with an incompetent drone like Suh.

  Entering into the communications room, Rampa bolted the door and strolled into the dimly lit chamber with a lone terminal. The walls blocked noise from the corridor, leaving only the sound of the humming terminal. A faint smell of overheated circuits filled the room. He grabbed his key card and slid it into the machine. The thumb pad glowed blue, and he pressed it.

  “Proceed with retinal scan,” the computer announced, disturbing the silence.

  Pushing his eye to the terminal, Rampa sighed. There had to be a better and quicker way for secure transmissions across this vast Empire.

  The screen glowed blue, coming to life and washing the room in a cloud of slate light. The red Zahlian symbol appeared onto the screen, gold letters lingering below to indicate the priority of the message.

  CONNECTING … CONNECTING … CONNECTING …

  Rampa watched the screen. He assumed the message would be transmitting on standard waves as was usually the procedure for his little operation on Nesteel. No one ever contacted him on a live feed. His experiments were far from the bureaucratic eyes of the Zahlian Empire, far from any potential judgments. What he did here was crucial to the future success of the Empire, which meant not all of his experiments would be met with approval from those concerned with minor obstacles like … moral or ethical objections.

  But he knew the trials could guarantee the future survival of the Zahlian Empire. He believed these tests would make the Empire thrive.

  “Connection established,” the computer announced.

  The image materialized. Rampa’s jaw dropped.

  “Admiral,” he said, bowing. “It is an honor to converse with you, sir.”

  “It has been too long, Captain Rampa.”

  Rampa swallowed. He had to play this conversation carefully. The wrong words could cause his project to be terminated … or get him executed.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure, Admiral?”

  “The faction believes it is time to ramp up your experiments. How soon do you estimate full implementation?”

  Rampa thought for a moment. While the subjects had not survived that morning, he knew success was close.

  “By the end of the year, sir.”

  “Excellent.” The admiral glanced off screen for an instant. “Can you tell me about the experiments thus far?”

  Rampa wet his lips and spoke slowly. “There have been some unforeseen difficulties. For example, taking control of the subject is easy. However, we lose some of the subject’s natural talents in the process. We are trying to isolate the functions of the brain that are prohibiting us from taking control of the subject’s abilities while simultaneously removing the will for defiance.”

  “And have you been successful?”

  Rampa hesitated, the battle for deceit and truth ra
ging in his mind. Truth, he decided, was best. “Not at the moment, sir.”

  “Tell me of the moles you have implanted thus far.”

  So you know about that. “We are still assessing the situation and awaiting news. As you know, these things take time. The mole is but our first actual test in foreign territory.”

  “We need to expedite the situation,” the admiral said without hesitation. “I want your moles activated immediately. Assess and report ASAP. What do you require for success?”

  Rampa frowned. This was strange, he thought. The previous time he spoke with the admiral, he was led to believe his project came a distant second to Tulin’s. Now, it seemed, priorities had shifted.

  “Begging your pardon, Admiral,” he said, speaking each word slowly, “has something changed?”

  The admiral exhaled. “The priority list has been altered. I have been authorized to grant you full funding.”

  Rampa attempted to hide his excitement. “Full funding? That’s … excellent, sir. What about Tulin’s project?”

  “Tulin was a fool,” the admiral said, his lips curling back over his teeth, “but he was propelled by the right idea. The Empire must expand. His benefactors continue to operate in the shadows, and they are growing impatient. We have delayed his project, but it is still moving forward slowly. With relations between our people and the Legion cooling, we have time to explore other options.”

  “May I ask of the nature of his project?”

  “You may ask,” the admiral said. He leaned into the camera. “I am going to send a team for your use, and they will explain the situation in greater detail. What I need from you are qualified pilots, and I need them soon. What do you need to make this happen?”

  Rampa thought for a moment. It was no secret the quality of the Zahlian Interceptor pilots had waned in recent years. As the Zahlian Empire expanded, flight training in the academies was expedited to meet current needs of security in an ever-expanding Empire. No one would say so in the open, but Legion Star Runners were now the best fighter pilots in the galaxy. Impressing them into Imperial service might prove difficult, but it would be essential to the security and success of the Empire.