Star Runners: Mission Wraith (#3) (12 page)

He shook it away.
 

The distance to target decreased. Braddock fell into position behind him and to the right. A vague description popped up on his HUD.
 

“Tiger,” Austin transmitted, “it appears to be a mid-sized freighter of some kind. Origin unknown.”

“Maintain your track.” Braddock’s Trident increased its distance from Austin. “I’m giving you space. Keep your eyes open.”
 

“Roger.” Austin stared at his HUD. The freighter’s information poured onto the screen. “Looks like they’ve been through it, sir.”

“Repeat?”

Austin studied the incoming information. “The freighter’s been hit hard. I’m picking up a trail of gasses leaving the ship. They’ve been attacked.”

“Copy. Break radio silence and make contact. Let’em know we’re coming.”

“Roger.” Austin switched to his long-range gamma wave and activated his onboard translator. “Unidentified vessel, this is a Star Runner with the Legion Navy. Please respond.”

Austin repeated his message twice and was about to give up when the radio hissed.
 

“We hear you … Star Runner,” a female voice called. “I am confused. Who are you with now?”

Austin blinked. “Galactic Legion of Planets. I am a Star Runner, callsign ‘Rock.’ And you?”

“Galactic Legion of Planets,” she whispered. “Rock, I don’t understand.”

“And who are you with?” he asked, frowning.
 

“I’m with the space administration.”

“With who?”

“With who?” she repeated and paused. “I hail from Batral. I’m Jakara of the Batral Space Administration, the second generation onboard the
Searcher
, explorer flight.”

Austin frowned. He had never heard of any of what she transmitted. “Second generation?”

“Yes.”

Confused, Austin gave the incoming freighter a wide berth. In the distance off his port side, he saw a flash of light in the darkness of space. He gazed in the direction of the incoming freighter. “Do you need assistance, Jakara?”

“As a matter of fact, we do,” she said, relief coming into her tone. “Do you have the ability to render assistance?”

“Affirmative,” he said without thinking. The information coming from the freighter didn’t look good. “Can you explain your situation?”

“Yes. As I said, I am Captain of the
Searcher
with the Batral Space Administration. We are currently forty-two cycles into our mission to explore the stars and find a new home. For all that time, we have run into nothing to lead us to believe there is any other intelligent life in the universe until yesterday.”

Austin brought his Trident on a course leading to the rear of the freighter. “Proceed.”

“We were attacked … by a spirit of some kind. I know that might sound strange.”

Austin’s brow lowered. Great, he thought, they’re crazy. “Can you elaborate?”

“We are a generational ship launched from Batral to search out new life and a habitable planet for our people. My father launched this vessel when I was just a girl. Many onboard had started to believe we were destined to wander the galaxy alone. All of a sudden, something came out of nowhere—invisible to our sensors. It fired on us, nearly destroying our engines. We have many wounded and require assistance.”

“I copy.” He brought his Trident to one-thousand MUs behind the freighter. “Stand by.”
 

Austin killed the transmission. Did she say forty-two cycles on a ship—a generational ship? He had heard of deep space travel and how different spacers over the years had traversed the stars. Out of all of them, a generational ship had seemed the least appealing to him. But what in the world would attack a defenseless exploration vessel from a dark world?

“I’ve contacted the
Formidable
,” Braddock said without delay. “We are to stay here until she arrives.”
 

“Roger.” Austin frowned at the freighter limping in the distance. “Who would have fired on this vessel? They don’t even have any defenses onboard.”

“I don’t know.” Braddock sighed. “Rock, have them power down and await the
Formidable
.”

Austin did as instructed.
 

The Tridents came to a stop in a flanking position on either side of the
Searcher
. Austin stared at the otherworldly vessel that looked like several compartments attached in no discernible fashion. An immense ring-shaped compartment protruded from the center of the ship and turned slowly. Laser burns blackened the hull in multiple locations. Near the aft section of the ship, a white cloud of gasses discharged from a hole in the hull.
 

He marveled at the fact this makeshift vessel had been in space for what he assumed meant more than forty years. This world, Batral, must be a dark world like Earth located somewhere within The Fringe. Without curve technology or even the Lutimite Drive of the Zahl Empire, it would take years to travel between habitable quadrants. But, again, who would want to attack a nearly worthless vessel in the middle of nowhere?
 

His scope pinged. “Tiger, Rock. You see this?”

“Standby,” Braddock said. “I have two incoming vessels, coming in hard on this position from The Fringe. Let me verify.”

“Roger,” Austin said. He ran a sensor sweep of the
Searcher
. More than two-hundred souls on board.
 

“I’m reading no transponders on these bogeys,” Braddock said, his voice laced with concern. “
Formidable
’s still an hour out waiting to retrieve the other patrolling Tridents.”

“What do we do?”
 

Braddock paused. Austin stared at the helpless ship, his fingers resting on the stick.
 

“I’m sending an update to the
Formidable
,” he said, his voice sounding distant. “Fire up your engines and get ready to engage.”

Austin’s pulse quickened. “Who are they, sir?”

“Vultures, pirates—doesn’t matter. We have to protect them. They are too close to our space and too helpless.”

“Roger.” Austin armed his missiles and checked his power distribution levels to the lasers. “Whenever you’re ready, sir.”

“I’m taking the lead.”

“Roger.”

Austin warmed up his engines, easing more power to the throttle. He pulled into position on Braddock’s wing. He kept an eye on the sensors. The two incoming bogeys spread out, coming in fast toward the
Searcher
.
 

“They’re spreading out,” Austin transmitted. “Looks like three-thousand MUs between them.”

“I see it. Let me see if I can scare’em off.” After a pause, Braddock transmitted in the open. “Unidentified craft, you are entering a Legion zone of operation. Please slow and identify.”
 

No response.
 

Austin swallowed, wondering where the two bogeys had originated. The Fringe was known to be a hodgepodge of dark worlds and small system fiefdoms dominated by ruthless warlords and aspiring conquerors. Details of The Fringe had been sparse in his studies, but it was an area of space the Legion devoted much time to exploring and understanding.
 

Now, Austin felt he was about to find out why.
 

After Braddock had repeated his transmission, he switched back to the encrypted Whisper. “Rock, prepare to scrap. Let your new friends know what’s going on. Order them to head for Legion space.”
 

“Roger.”

Braddock soared out in front of Austin, his sensors sending invisible pulses out into the void in an attempt to verify the identification of the incoming bogeys—and decide on their intention. In Austin’s limited experience and his classes in flight school, radio silence in unidentified craft never meant anything good.
 

“
Searcher
, this is Rock.”

“Reading you, Rock,” Jakara’s voice came back.
 

“We have two unidentified bogeys incoming.”

Jakara paused. “We don’t see anything on our sensors.”

“Trust me,” Austin said, his voice lowering. “They’re coming. I need you to fire up your engines and continue your course. I am going to transmit coordinates to you. It’s within Legion space, and you’ll be safe.”

“But our engines are damaged. I don’t think we can—”

“With all due respect,” Austin interjected, “we don’t have time to discuss. Make for the coordinates we send you. We will try to protect you.”

“Roger, Rock,” Jakara said with resignation in her voice. “Good luck.”

The bogeys continued increasing the distance between themselves. Braddock maintained a course between the two as the MUs dropped below two-thousand. He repeated the message and received no response.
 

“Rock, we’re now treating the incoming bogeys as hostile,” Braddock said cooly. “Prepare to engage.”

Austin clenched his teeth as a tight smile stretched across his face, the fear transforming into determination. He eased his Trident into standard attack position on Braddock’s wing. “Roger.”
 

“Combat spread,” Braddock said sharply. “Looks like vultures—marauders—coming from The Fringe. They’ll find quite the surprise when they see us here.”

“Copy.”

From what Austin had heard from other Star Runners, these scavenger groups on The Fringe roamed the wilderness between worlds. They preyed on small, defenseless settlements or damaged vessels like the
Searcher
. These “vultures,” as Braddock called them, rarely had to deal with a force like the Legion Navy.
 

Austin dropped into his position, bringing his Trident lower than Braddock’s. In a combat spread position, it would be Austin’s job as the defender to lure the incoming bogeys into a good position for Braddock to take them out. Braddock dropped back and above Austin’s Trident, settling into what Star Runners called the “perch.”
 

The maneuver worked. The two bogeys adjusted course, focusing on Austin’s Trident. The bogeys closed the gap between them, coming in a tight formation—their images on the sensors nearly touching. The distance dropped below one thousand MUs. The signal warning of a missile lock squealed in his ear.
 

“Evasive!” Braddock ordered.
 

Austin banked left and pulled up, bringing his Trident away from the bogeys. “Looks like we didn’t scare them at all!”
 

“I’m coming in,” Braddock snapped. “Maintain your course.”

“Copy.”

The warning signal for missile lock disappeared as Austin leveled out, allowing the bogeys to settle in behind him. They were still too far away for guns, but they might decide on a blind missile shot. He adjusted his shields to the rear and fled full throttle, away from the bogeys and, more importantly, away from the damaged
Searcher
.
 

“I have a lock,” Braddock said, his tone cold as ice. “Firing.”

Austin watched his sensors and saw the missile closing on the bogey near Braddock. The bogey tried to evade, diving away from the missile. A moment later, the bogey disappeared from the scope.
 

“Got him,” Braddock said. “Rock, these vultures have worthless shields. I’m closing on the second. Bring it around and form up next to me for a sandwich maneuver.”

“You got it.”
 

Austin yanked the stick, bringing the Trident around sharply. A maneuver like that in the atmosphere would have crushed him, he thought. The bogey suddenly fired four missiles at the generational ship, looped around and headed away from the
Searcher
’s position. The four projectiles launched toward the damaged vessel.
 

“Rock—engage those missiles!” Braddock yelled. “I’ll take care of our friend.”

“Roger!”

Austin pulled back, bringing the missiles into his crosshairs. Firing his lasers, he took out two on his first pass flying parallel with the missiles. The explosions dissipated quickly in the void of space. Pulling back around, he came in behind the missiles as they zeroed in on the
Searcher
. He fired wildly, his energy banks dwindling as he filled the space with laser bolts. The third missile exploded.
 

The fourth and final moved away from him, extending the distance between them.
 

Austin leaned forward. He fired again. The bolt flying just short of the missile. He closed on the
Searcher
. If his shots missed, they could hit the simple vessel he was trying to protect.

“
Searcher
, this is Rock,” he said, his voice straining. “You have one inbound missile. Launch countermeasures if you’ve got them.”

“Launch what?” Jakara asked.
 

Austin grimaced. He squinted and fired until the energy banks had nearly depleted. He only had a few more seconds …

The missile lined up with the
Searcher
’s engines. Twenty MUs. Ten.
 

He squeezed the trigger. Three bolts exploded from his Trident’s guns, igniting the space around his fighter. The first two soared over the missile. The third found its mark and exploded the projectile.
 

Debris from the missile shot out in all directions. Two pieces bounced off Austin’s forward shields, flashing like lightning. Austin instinctively pushed forward on the stick, bringing his Trident on a course below the
Searcher
. He looked up. Two pieces of missile debris crashed through the vessel’s hull like paper.
 

“Tiger, Rock,” Austin transmitted. He glanced at his scope to see Braddock had eliminated the remaining bogey.

“Go ahead, Rock.”

“I’ve taken out the missiles, sir, but one was a little too close when I got it. The vessel is hit.”

“Copy. We’ve got assistance.”

At that moment, space beyond the
Searcher
wavered, and the massive bulk of the
Formidable
moved through a curve. Five Kardas, the multi-use support craft Austin had read about being an integral part of the carrier’s operations, launched from the
Formidable
’s tubes looking like tiny daggers from this distance. The Kardas, loaded with engineers and medical personnel, swarmed toward the
Searcher
as it halted in space. More explosions rocked the vessel, gasses and debris flying into space.