9
“This is Scorpion, flight heading for Point Echo,” Ryker transmitted, reclining into the cockpit seat. “ETA twenty-five.”
“Copy, Scorpion,” the Formidable shot back. “Good hunting.”
For today’s patrol, Point Echo was the Binus Moon of Towlad located twenty-thousand MUs from their curve entry point. Four flights of four Tridents each had launched with the goal of seeking out recent marauder activity and freeing this distant Legion star system from the scourge of piracy spilling over from the Fringe. Major Braddock had wanted this accomplished by the end of the week before the Formidable would inevitably return to the Zahl-Legion border.
For decades, marauders would appear from the wilds of the Fringe, materializing from the depths of deep space for hit and run attacks before slipping
