by L. E. Thomas
“Good! Remember, you stay together at all times! We eat together! Sleep together! Train together! Get out of line—we’re punished together! Got it?”
A couple of Star Runners grumbled an affirmative.
“What?”
“Got it!” they yelled in unison.
Senza clapped her hands once. “That’s better!”
When they rounded the last corner, Major Wilkos stood where they had left him with his arms crossed over his chest. He held up one hand.
“Scorpions—halt!” Senza yelled.
The group paused, gasping for breath. Skylar stood close to Austin, their shoulders touching. The corridor reeked of body odor.
Wilkos stepped in front of them, hands clasped behind his back. “Anyone else got something to say?” When no one spoke, he cocked his head to the side and leaned his ear toward them. “Anything?”
“Sir, no, sir!” Austin yelled.
Wilkos stared at him, his face hard as if carved from marble. Several moments passed. Suddenly, one corner of his mouth arched up in a slight smile. “Very good, Lieutenant.”
Austin’s chest swelled, but he kept his eyes forward. He hadn’t said anything to land within the good graces of his new commanding officer. Sharkey always enjoyed making them run until vomit littered the workout field when he didn’t receive an answer to a question. Truthfully, Austin had spoken today simply because he didn’t want to run again. His muscles ached, and he realized he had lost a step in recent weeks. That was something he would have to remedy, and soon.
Clicking his heels, Wilkos turned to face Senza. “Captain, are you ready to begin your briefing?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good,” he said, glancing back at the Star Runners, “I’ve had enough of them for now. Proceed.”
Senza ordered the pilots to pick up their personal items, and they filed into the featureless gray briefing room. Austin collapsed into one of the black chairs with the connected desk like those found in his high school. The other Star Runners filed in, grunting as they sat. For the first time, Austin completed a count of his new comrades: fifteen, including Bear out cleaning up his vomit. Bear burst into the room a minute after the rest of Star Runners sat down, finding a seat near the back.
Enough to form a squadron, Austin thought.
Stepping to the front of the room, Senza clicked her heels and stood with her hands tucked behind her. “Welcome all of you to the moon of Lola,” she said, her eyes falling onto each of them. “For the foreseeable future, this will be the Scorpions’ Nest. You are all a part of something special now, something never attempted.”
Austin swallowed, staring at the woman.
She cleared her throat and tilted her head back. “From this day forth, you will all forget your past squadrons. False assignments have been filed for each and every one of you, officially taking you from your previous jobs and providing a cover for this assignment. This was done to allow each of you to become what Command believes you are capable of becoming. You were selected because your superior officers have seen something special in each and every one of you. You are the best the Legion has to offer.” She held her hands out to her side. “Today is your first day as a Scorpion. Congratulations!”
Her brow lowered, and she paced the front of the room. “This means you will be sent to the areas where the Legion needs you the most, into the darkest and most dangerous operations in the galaxy. You are already great. You’re here to become better. When you are done with training, you’ll be unstoppable. The galaxy will fear the whisper of your name! The marauders on the Fringe will tremble when you approach. Pirates will scurry back to their holes at the mere mention of your name. Your presence on the border will terrorize the dreams of Zahlian pilots.” She smiled and nodded. “Now, Scorpions, let’s get to work.”
Senza fired up the hologram projectors and activated her tablet.
But Austin couldn’t stop thinking of Ryker. She would have been so proud to know a squadron had been named for her. If only she were alive to witness this …
CHAPTER THREE
The twelve Tridents swept in an inverted “V” toward the Interceptors. The point fighter moved just ahead of the squadron, the others dropping back to lure the Interceptors toward a particular area. The Zahlian craft approached with discipline, flying in unison. The ARC fired a system disruptor when it first arrived in the area, scrambling the sensors of the local craft. Talent and skill would decide this contest, not computers and sensors vying for a signal lock.
Red bolts shot from the Zahlian Interceptors, filling the darkness like a crimson lightning. A Trident took a shot on the shield above the right stabilizer. The Star Runner panicked, pulling up and out of position. The desperate move rippled down the Legion formation. Star Runners broke off, scrambling in different directions and ignoring their wingmen. The Interceptors moved in like sharks in a school of fish, first blood whipping them into a frenzy. The Zahlian fighters flew into the chaos, dropping seven Tridents on the first pass. Others locked into a vicious furball, laser fire filling the space.
It was over in eight seconds.
The green lights warmed, and the holograms hovering over their heads faded. Captain Manami Senza stood from her corner stool, her fingers interlocking and coming to rest at her belt. She allowed her eyes to fall on each of the fifteen members of the Scorpions, her red curls falling on fit shoulders as she paced in front of the class.
“What went wrong here?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as she waited for an answer.
Austin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. For the past few weeks, they had spent hours watching holographic depictions of massive dogfights, some real and others projected. One of the battles, an escort mission on the border where Tridents fought off a wave of fighters led by a zealous warlord on the Fringe, lasted more than one hour. After each of the dogfights, Senza always started the discussion with the same question. Every single time.
“I’m waiting,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.
And that was the other thing she said. Every time.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Captain Senza. During orientation, Senza said she hailed from Pacar. Of course, this made Austin think of his late friend Etti Mar. The young woman popped in his head every day, and this gave him reason to like Senza right off the bat.
But he hated being in the classroom for fourteen hours at a time. It was an unchanging feeling. They had been told the squadron of Tridents in the landing bay would be theirs for training. When that day would finally come was anyone’s guess. For now, they had been brushing up on dogfighting tactics and answering detailed questions about proper rules of engagement. The complicated maneuvers and equations far exceeded anything he had learned on Tarton’s Junction. He had incorrectly believed his long days in a classroom ended when he left the station. It almost took the fun out of flying.
Almost.
“Lieutenant Stone,” she said, stepping in front of him. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sitting up in his seat. “My apologies.”
She shook her head. “Tell us where the Tridents went wrong.”
The other Scorpions glanced at each other, a collective smirk on their faces. Since classes began, he found the other squad members to be arrogant and quiet. They seemed to look down their noses at him. And it wasn’t directly solely at him. All of the other officers were older and more seasoned than Bear, Skylar and Austin. Whenever they would retire to their bunks, the other Scorpions said little or nothing at all.
During the night, he overheard some of the them discussing past campaigns. Their tales carried none of the boasts he had become accustomed to hearing on Tarton’s Junction or onboard the Formidable. Austin would listen, staring at the ceiling as the Star Runners shared stories of combat stretching back years.
Glancing at the other Scorpions, he clenched his teeth. “They broke formation and panicked.”
“Good,” Senza said. “
What should they have done?”
“If they stayed in formation,” he said without hesitation, “the Interceptors may have broken formation and concentrated on the lead fighter. If the Zahlian forces were not disciplined and wanted to see who could get the kill shot on the point fighter, it would have been all the distraction the Tridents needed to get the upper hand. That one instant would’ve allowed them to take out the Interceptors. Instead, the opposite happened.”
“Anything else?”
“They lost their cool,” he said, lowering his gaze. “When you panic up there, you don’t live to regret it.”
Senza considered this statement, glancing down at the floor. “In your experience, what would you recommend?”
He shot a glance toward Bear and Skylar sitting on either side of him. Both nodded. Turning back to Senza, he grinned. “Stay frosty.”
Senza blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Stay frosty.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean by that?”
“It means be calm,” Bear said, raising his hand. “No jerky movements or frantic maneuvers. You know, fly smooth and alert. Stay frosty.”
A moment passed as Senza stared at each of them. Her expression softened. “You three flew together before, correct?”
Austin looked at them both and smiled.
“We trained together,” Skylar said, “and we fought together.”
The older Scorpions stared at them; their smug expressions vanishing. Instead, for the first time since they’d arrived, the veteran Star Runners looked with respect instead of contempt. Austin nodded, finally understanding why the older Star Runners had treated the three youngest the way they did. When the others saw three Star Runners in their early twenties, they probably assumed the youngsters had received this assignment due to favoritism or even nepotism. Now, it was as if the rest of the Scorpions saw them for the first time.
“Good to know.”
Skylar nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Great.” Senza clapped her hands. “I think you’ve had enough holographic recordings today. Dismissed for some grub. After that, we fly.”
Austin banked the Trident right and peered out his canopy at the alien world in the distance. Captain Senza assured the Scorpions the dark world had no instruments with the capability to pick up their practice maneuvers around their base.
Although Senza said the planet was home to a primitive people barely out of the Stone Age, the green marble with the swirling white clouds at the poles looked very similar to Earth. Austin stared at the world, amazed at the thought of an entire culture evolving under those clouds in the distance.
He thought of Josh Morris, his best friend back at home. When Austin had returned from Mission Wraith, he had backlogged messages to read, and three were from Josh.
Josh and Kadyn were dating, still cruising around the old stomping grounds of high school. In his email, Josh mentioned they went to the coffee shop on Friday nights and were the only ones usually there. Business had slacked off a lot, but the black and white photo of Marilyn remained. While still going through therapy for his brutal time in captivity, courtesy of the Tyral Pirates, Josh had spent a few hours a day working the Earth servers for Star Runners. He logged about four hours a day and completed reports of talented recruits, but it sounded like his life wasn’t much different than it was in high school. But Josh sounded happy, and that was enough for Austin.
While it seemed to make Josh happy, Austin didn’t think he would ever be able to return to his life in the suburbs of Atlanta. Just the thought of going to the same places he did in high school made his stomach turn.
“Z-Squadron, let’s tighten it up,” Shizuko “Chrome” Crone said, the gamma wave sizzling to life and bringing Austin’s mind back to the present. “Let’s try not to make it too easy for these guys today.”
“Copy,” several Star Runners in Z-Squadron said at the same time.
A tough woman with the frame of a mixed martial arts fighter complemented by a stare able to melt any opposition, Crone had been selected by Major Cayo Wilkos and Captain Senza to lead their first practice dogfight. In her past, the woman had been a veteran lieutenant from Excalibur Squadron. Bear said he heard Crone had been on six tours even though Austin would have guessed she was still in her twenties. During that time, she had apparently racked up twenty-one kills.
“All right, Z-Squadron,” Wilkos said. “You will be entering the combat zone in forty seconds. Remember, you are playing the part of the Tridents today. Your enemy will come in masquerading as the Zahlian Interceptors. To compensate for the Interceptor’s advantages such as maneuverability and speed, your thrusters and engines have been outfitted with special governors to reflect the advantage of your enemy. You will be firing harmless training lasers. Once the onboard computer registers a kill shot, you will be instantly curved to the far side of the moon where you will wait until the engagement has been decided. Good luck!”
The gamma wave went silent. Austin cracked his knuckles and grabbed the stick. These veterans might enjoy acting like a bunch of monkeys’ asses back on the base, but they had never seen him fly. He took a deep breath, relishing in the soft whine of the Trident’s systems. Glancing at his scope, he checked his position in the formation. Crone had him at the farthest tip of their “V” pattern, consisting of seven Tridents. He flew next to his assigned wingman, Diego “Sunshine” Marcos, a Star Runner hailing from Tizona Squadron. If A-Squadron or the “Zahl” force showed up on his side, he might not be out here long.
They placed Bear on the opposite side of the “V” with Skylar right next to him. Austin wondered if the position was reserved for the cannon fodder of the group and decided he’d rather not know.
The HUD flash red.
“We are in the combat zone,” Crone said. “Keep your eyes peeled. Shout out bandits when you see them. You’ve all seen combat before, so keep your cool and let’s win today.”
“I guess we’ve all seen combat,” Dimas “Giggles” Sorn said.
Austin knew Sorn had directed his comment in the direction of the three youngest members of the Scorpions. This Star Runner, formerly of Tarnex Squadron, had been leering at Austin since they first arrived. Austin wasn’t sure what the guy’s problem was, but he glared at him in class and the barracks.
“Cut the chatter,” Crone said before Austin could speak. “We’re all on the same team out here.”
“Copy, Chrome,” Sorn said, his voice still low.
Austin shook his head, focusing on his sensors. Ten minutes passed. Z-Squadron circled the moon three times. Austin leaned back in his seat and yawned. Even a boring patrol would be better than spending another fourteen hours in the classroom, going over endless—
“Incoming!” Skylar announced. “Five bandits coming in at three o’clock!”
“Five?” Crone asked. “What about the other three?”
“I count five,” Gillian “Blue Jay” Sacks said. “Coming in hard, too.”
Crone exhaled. “All right. Stay in formation. Break right and get those missiles warm.”
Austin activated his weapons, banking and staying in formation with his squadron. He watched the enemy form up into two groups. Three fighters came straight for them while the remaining two stayed at a distance.
“Coming in two groups,” Crone said, her voice straining. “Stay ready.”
“Stay frosty,” Bear said so loud Austin could hear him smiling.
“Not this again,” Sorn said.
“Cut it!” Crone barked. “Stay in formation. Wait for my signal to engage.”
Austin bit down on his lip, trying to remain in formation even though every muscle wanted to commit. He held his breath, watching as the three lead bandits crept out beyond the other two. The range dropped below one hundred MUs.
“This is it,” Crone said. “Engage! Get those locks and fire at will! Sunshine! You and Warthog take Rock and Cheetah. Take out those lurkers in the distance.”
“Roger,” Marcos said.
Austin grabbed the throttle and his sensors went black. Several Star Runners in his squadron swore over the gamma wave.
“System disruptor fired,” Crone said calmly. “We expected this, people. Stay with your wingman and engage.”
The two squadrons shot toward one another.
“You with me, Rock?” Marcos asked.
“Right on your wing.”
“Follow me.”
The squadrons clashed together. Fighters swarmed across space. The cobalt-blue bolts of the harmless lasers filled the sky like a lightning storm. Austin kept his position to the left and a little below Marcos as he zeroed in on the bandits lingering in the distance. Two friendly Tridents disappeared from his sensors, signifying they had been hit and curved to the far side of the moon.
The radio chatter filled his helmet. Instead of the frantic screams he had witnessed during his skirmishes on the border while stationed on the Formidable, the Star Runners exuded calm and professionalism in the transmissions.
“Hold it together.”
“Blind shot on your six.”
“Got it.
“Cheetah, swing around behind the bandit.”
“Roger.”
Austin lowered his gaze, watching the bandit in the distance. Without operating sensor lock, Marcos would try to get in close and take him out with lasers or a blind missile shot. It was Austin’s job to cover him.
“Z-Squadron,” Crone said, “be advised there are three more fighters sighted behind us. Take out your targets and swing around ASAP.”
The laser cannons on Marcos’ Trident came to life, spitting blue charges toward the bandit. The target took evasive action, spiraling down away from Marcos and Austin. Dipping forward, the two Tridents shot down in pursuit.
The bandit passed in front of them, probably less than fifty MUs, but Marcos didn’t fire.
“Right with you, Sunshine,” Austin said, hoping to encourage his wingman to fire.
And then Marcos’ Trident shuddered. Austin glanced over at the Trident, saw a blue field shimmering around the fighter. A heartbeat later, it passed through a curve and disappeared.
