Star Runners: Scorpions

Chapter 17-1

17

“Task force dropping out of space lane in thirty seconds,” Rampa transmitted through the crystal clear gamma wave on board the Zahlian Interceptor. “Prepare to launch on my command. Once you’re underway, proceed directly to your patrol sector and destroy any ships attempting to leave the system.”

Ryker swallowed. Her hands trembled. Interlocking her fingers, she popped her knuckles and looked around the cockpit. After rechecking the Interceptor’s status, she glanced at the crimson uniform over her life-support suit. She felt bulky compared to the primary flight suit the Legion had expected her to wear.

She stared at the uniform. She would probably never see the Legion again. Rampa expected her to fly into battle and kill for the “righteousness” of the Zahlian Empire. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t.

The implant forced her stomach to roll, throbbing nausea through her system.

Think about something else, she thought. Think about my comrades. Think about this mission.

“You heard the captain, Defectors,” said the woman Ryker knew only as Defector One. “Once we’re clear of the ARC, fall in behind me just as we practiced in the sims.”

“Copy,” Nicholas or “Defector Two” said.

Ryker closed her eyes, nodding through her flight check. Today would be just like any other confrontation. Protect your people, survive to fight another day. That’s all.

Since the world of Tarrafa or NPT-six-two-three was a dark world on the opposite side of Zahlian territory, she wouldn’t be facing any Tridents today.

“Dropping out of the lane in three seconds,” Rampa said, excitement rising in his voice. “Two. One. Now.”

The hangar lights flickered. A moment later, the outer door opened to reveal a field of stars above a green and brown planet. Craning her neck for a better view, Ryker stared down at Tarrafa and imagined the millions of people who would soon have their entire world shattered as invaders descended from the stars.

Beside her Interceptor, troop transports lifted off, hovering for two seconds before flying out. Four Interceptors flying outside met the convoy, forming into an escort position. The group gathered in front of the ARC and descended toward the planet. Across her view, hundreds of other vessels entered the atmosphere.

“Defectors,” Rampa said, “you’re cleared to launch.”

“Roger, Enforcer,” One said. “Defector flight on me.”

Ryker nodded, pulling back on the stick and lifting the Interceptor off the deck. They soared into space, flying toward their patrol position.

Nothing but Zahlian craft appeared on her sensors. Looking around, she saw ARCs and dozens of support craft establishing a perimeter in high orbit. An endless stream of smaller ships and fighters swarmed toward Tarrafa, disappearing into the atmosphere.

“Enforcer, this is Defector One. We’ve reached our sector and will begin our patrol.”

“Excellent,” Rampa said. “Nothing gets off planet. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

One took the point position with Ryker and Nicholas taking up position on her wing. Taking a deep breath, she settled into her cockpit, alternating between staring into deep space and gazing at the planet below. One hour passed. Then two.

On Tarrafa at this moment, the military might of the Zahl subjugated families and forced them into service. By the end of the day, the Zahl would have taken control of most major population centers. People would fight back; they always did even when a greater force was at their doorstep. The odds would be impossible, but they would still resist. And thousands would die. She remembered as much from her upbringing on Lian.

As opposed to the “hands off” Legion policy toward dark worlds, Rampa had said the Zahlian Empire would’ve intervened and prevented the c*****e on Lian. They would have moved in and taken out all warring factions, ushering in a new era of peace and prosperity. When she looked at his words without bias, she had to concede his ideas had merit. But conquering worlds in the name of peace and prosperity was wrong. Wasn’t it?

Her sensor flashed red, the HUD glowing the color of blood and washing her cockpit in its light. Checking the readout, she saw three incoming vessels fleeing the planet and driving hard for deep space. Two seconds later, the full information of the ships popped on the lower right corner of her HUD.

The largest was a bulky cruiser with two turret weapons on the top and bottom of the craft. The other ships were two smaller fighters flying escort.

“Defectors, Enforcer,” Rampa said. “We’ve picked up a collection of ships heading into your sector. Pursue and disable. Use of deadly force is authorized.”

“Copy, Enforcer,” One said. “We will engage. Follow me.”

We can’t do this. We can’t. “Copy,” Ryker said, adjusting course to fall into position behind her leader. “We’re right with you.”

Turn away. What are you doing? You’re flying a Zahlian Interceptor. You can’t do this.

The fleeing forces split up, apparently detecting the upcoming Zahlian vessels for the first time. The cruiser adjusted course and headed for deep space. The smaller fighters turned around, heading for their position.

“Defectors, this is One. Break formation and engage. I’m heading for the cruiser. Join me when the fighters have been neutralized.”

You cannot do this. “Copy,” Ryker said through her teeth. “Will do.”

One’s Interceptor lifted above, bearing down on the cruiser in the distance. Ryker focused on the incoming fighters, moving her crosshairs onto the incoming ships.

“Two, you with me?” she asked.

A pause. “I-I copy, Three.”

“Keep your cool and—” she paused, memories flooding back, rushing through her mind like a tidal wave. “Stay frosty.”

The Tarrafa fighters dropped below one hundred MUs. Ryker armed her missiles and attempted to get a lock.

If I do this, she thought, I can never go back.

“Trying for a lock,” she heard herself say. “Ten seconds.”

The enemy fighter didn’t even try to evade. It remained on a course right for them as if he couldn’t detect her attempt at a missile lock.

“I can’t do this!” Nicholas yelled. He screamed, his voice ripping through the speakers like a dying animal. “Ah! No! I can’t!”

“Stay cool, Two!”

“No!” he yelled. “You said you’d protect me!”

“Get back in line! Form up with me!”

“I-I…can’t!”

Ryker watched as his Interceptor rolled, flying away from the incoming fighters and heading toward deep space.

“Two!” she yelled.

An inhuman shriek bellowed into her earpiece. Nicholas.

Ryker winced. His fighter went limp, all evidence of piloting ceasing. The Interceptor jerked once and headed back toward the Enforcer.

“Two has been disabled,” Rampa cooed into her earpiece. “Finish your mission, Three.”

She pursed her lips. I want to kill you. I want you to suffer. “Copy, Enforcer. Moving to engage.”

The Tarrafa craft moved in for the kill, filling the space around her Interceptor with laser fire. The other came from above, shooting down at her as it closed. Her body relaxed, the grip on her stick lessening.

They can have me.

Two bolts clipped her wing, and she closed her eyes. It would be over in a second.

A surge of electricity shot through her body. Biting down on her tongue, she tasted the salt of blood filling her mouth.

“Engage, Three,” Rampa said. “You must. Engage!”

She cried out, gripping the stick and pulling her Interceptor toward one of the incoming fighters. The crosshairs burned red.

With her missiles armed, she screamed and squeezed the trigger twice. A flash of light shot under her wing as two missiles ignited. They shot toward the enemy. Both missiles struck the fighter before the pilot reacted, consuming the craft in a ball of fire.

She pulled up, bringing the second fighter to bear. The bandit spun away, attempting to flee. With tears streaming down her face, she pursued. She switched to the pulse lasers. Increasing speed, she pulled within range. Her throat constricted, her finger hovering over the trigger.

I can’t.

Pain tingled through her body. I can’t take it anymore.

Without thinking, she stayed behind the helpless enemy fighter. Her lasers were hot and ready, but she hesitated.

“Please…no,” she said. “Don’t make me. Don’t make me do this. Please.”

Rampa grumbled into her earpiece. “You know the punishment for betrayal. These people have resisted your Empire. Do it.”

“Please! I’m begging you!”

“Do it!”

She pulled the trigger.

Rapid red bolts spit from her cannons. A flurry of bolts connected to the outmatched Tarrafa fighter. The stabilizer melted, falling apart in a shower of sparks and sending the craft into a spin. Three bolts obliterated the canopy, cutting the vessel in half.

And then it was over.

The fires dissipated, leaving behind the blackened and charred remains of the destroyed spacecraft.

Pain evaporated from her body. She sucked in a deep breath of the stale air.

“Good, Three,” Rampa said. “Very good.”

Ryker stared into the fighter’s charred remains as they shot past her canopy. She wondered about the occupant. Did they have a family? Children? Were they tall? Short? Was it a man or a woman?

She had taken their life. What other lives had she ruined today because of her actions? She gazed into nothingness, a blank shroud falling over her body.

Ryker had killed before and destroyed enemies. But it had always been in the name of preserving freedom and keeping the enemy’s forces at bay. Today was different. She was the evil the rest of the galaxy resisted.

Banking, she stared toward the planet. An entire world would be suffering the same fate today. Nothing would ever be the same for these people, and the Zahlian Empire would gain another world while the Legion remained stagnant. Rampa was right: The Zahl Empire would conquer all eventually.

“Three, this is Defector One. The enemy cruiser has been disabled. Form up with me to await the boarding party. Prepare to fly escort.”

She swayed in her cockpit, her mind drifting. “I copy. I’m inbound to assist.”

The Interceptor rested on its skids, coming to a stop on the Enforcer’s polished deck. Ryker watched the crew and two Marines rushing toward her spacecraft. Her suit smelled of sweat and her hair matted against her skull.

The canopy opened with a whine of servos. The airtight flight suit released, and the smell of fuel and steel from the hangar flooded into her nose. To her right, mechanics swarmed Defector One’s Interceptor. To her left, Two—Nicholas Pavlosky—had landed. Beyond, she watched a dozen more Interceptors landing like swarming insects.

She took a deep breath as she stared toward Nicholas. His canopy opened, and medical personnel pulled his still body from the cockpit and placed him on a stretcher.

“No!” she gasped, releasing the safety restraints and leaping out of her cockpit.

“Hold it, pilot!” a Zahlian Marine sneered, raising his rifle to bear on her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She pointed toward Nicholas. “My comrade’s hurt.”

“He’s dead.”

“What?”

The Marines paused, his expressions hidden by the helmet. “He betrayed the mission.”

Rampa strolled across the deck, casting an appraising glance at Defector One as if he assessed the value of a prized steed. Nodding, he moved toward Ryker.

“Captain Rampa,” she said, controlling her anger, “why was Ni—what happened to Defector Two during the battle?”

“He didn’t follow orders.”

“But what happened to him?” She shook her head. “His ship was not hit by enemy fire.”

Glancing at the Marine, Rampa took a step toward her. “Two refused to engage the enemy, so his implant detonated. His Interceptor was brought back to the ARC by remote.” He studied her, an odd expression on his face mixing concern and dominance. “The ultimate punishment for treason is death. I told you that.”

I hate you. I would kill you if I could. “Of course, Captain.”

He placed his hand on Ryker’s shoulder and squeezed. “Excellent. Walk with me.”

Filing in beside him, she marched past Nicholas. The crew had removed his helmet. His eyes filled with blood, crimson tears running down his face. The implant must have liquefied his brain—and the same implant was currently inside her head. His face was frozen in fear, his eyebrows raised.

Rampa led her into a briefing room and ordered the guards to stay outside. She glared at him as the hatch closed.

“Other than a moment of hesitation,” he said, glancing down at his tablet, “you did very well out there. I’ve rarely seen a pilot so quickly dispatch an enemy. You’ve incredible skills. I look forward to seeing you progress in our ranks.”

Pursing her lips, she nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

“So, you must see now.”

“See what, sir?”

“The power of the Zahl, of course.”

I want to see you fall. “Of course, Captain.”

“In time, you’ll come to love the Zahl as I do.”

I’d like to kill you. “Yes, Captain.”

Rampa tilted his head as if assessing her. She maintained eye contact, forcing images of his demise from her mind.

“Securing the planet below is proceeding as planned,” he said, looking at his tablet. “We secured the capitals of all primary indigenous factions and obliterated all organized defense. An announcement is being made as we speak to the remaining natives to offer them peace if they lay down their arms. Many usually take us up on the offer and serve as local Zahlian Police.”