Star Runners: Scorpions

Prologue

Prologue

“He’s dead, sir.”

Captain Rufino Rampa watched as the Star Runner’s body twitched. The dying man, who had been brought to Nesteel last month, lost control of his bodily functions in the final moments. He had been the day’s third failure.

“Moving on,” Rampa said, staring at his tablet. “Who is next?”

The technician, a young man named Daren Suh, studied his display. His shimmering black lab coat reflected the underground bunker’s florescent lighting.

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

Rampa smiled. “Splendid.”

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

“I’d like to conduct the next experiment on one of the new Star Runners,” Rampa said, lowering his voice.

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

Rampa nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he stepped in front of the operation room and the thick two-way mirror capable of withstanding a laser bolt. Inside, a metal chair protruded from the stainless steel floor with a single shiny drain 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. Bruises swelled under both eyes and blood trickled from his nose. Rampa remembered his interrogation the previous night. Command insisted on providing Zahlian Agents to his base who questioned Star Runners for hours without obtaining useful information.

The Marines strapped the prisoner to the chair and exited.

Believing he was alone, the Star Runner wept. Rampa watched him convulsing as tears streamed 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 captive struggled, his body writhing under the restraints until his wrists bled. The sphere stopped, and the Star Runner stared at it, 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 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 to a three-dimensional image of the man’s brain. Drills entered the man’s skull, penetrating bone and 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, his technicians would be able to monitor the success of the—

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

“Gold?” Rampa blinked, looking at Suh. He gestured to an empty operation room. “Have another patient moved to operation room B and strapped in. Do not proceed without my authorization.”

Suh bowed. “As you wish, Captain.”

Rampa marched away from the man, hiding his discontent. His former assistant, Nik O’Paul, had been more efficient and always provided perfect analysis. 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 resources into Tulin’s dream project, whatever it had been. O’Paul had been reassigned and died on board the Dauntless following its reactor accident.

Rampa heard all the rumors of Tulin’s project and knew the news of the accident was rubbish. While the Zahlian All-purpose Response Cruiser, or ARC, was a new ship with some possible bugs, 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 center, Rampa bolted the door and strolled into the dim chamber with a lone terminal. Foam walls blocked noise from the corridor, leaving only the sound of the humming computer. A faint smell of overheated circuits hit him as 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.

Pushing his eye to the terminal, Rampa sighed. The screen glowed blue as a red Zahlian symbol appeared onto the screen, gold glyphs lingering below to indicate the priority message.

CONNECTING … CONNECTING … CONNECTING …

The image materialized. Rampa’s jaw dropped.

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

“It has been too long, Captain Rampa.”

He swallowed, knowing the wrong words could get his project terminated.

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

“We believe it’s time to ramp up your experiments. How soon do you estimate full implementation?”

“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?”

He wet his lips and considered his response. “There’ve been some unforeseen difficulties enhancing the captured technology. For example, taking control of the subject is easy. However, we lose some of their natural talents in the process. We’re trying to isolate the functions of the brain prohibiting us from harnessing the subject’s abilities while simultaneously removing the will for defiance.”

“And have you been successful?”

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

“Tell me of the moles you’ve implanted.”

So you know about that. “We’re 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?”

He frowned. The previous time they conversed, he was led to believe his project came a distant second to Tulin’s. Now, it seemed, priorities had shifted.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” he said, “has something changed?”

He exhaled. “The priority list has been altered. I’ve 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,” he 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’re growing impatient. We’ve delayed his project, but it’s 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,” he said, leaning into the camera. “I’m going to send a team for your use, and they’ll 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 hesitated.

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 by enhancing mysterious technology might prove difficult, but it would be essential to the security and continued success of the Empire.

“May I speak freely, Admiral?”

“Of course.”

Rampa stared at him. “I need more Star Runners, sir.”

“You will get them.”