Star Runners 2: Revelation Protocol (29 page)

He checked the data of the ocean floor for the next fifty MUs. Nothing but sweeping flats with no trenches or mountains all the way to the coast of California. If the pirate vessel had headed this direction, there would be no obstacles.

He wiped at his face, feeling a cold chill pass through the cockpit. He wondered at the temperature of the water just outside his shield.

Checking the whisper, he saw Atlantis had transmitted nothing in the time since he left. Neither had Braddock or the other pirates. This had to mean they had found nothing. The dip in the ocean floor had to be the best evidence they had found.

Powering forward into the darkness, he skipped his next sonar burst marker and dropped one late. The pulse shot away from his Trident in all directions. At thirty MUs, the pulse smacked into something metallic, something two hundred yards in length. He jolted forward at the site, his eyes wide.

The submersible!

His missile detection squealed in his ears. An incoming projectile appeared on his scope.

“Crap!” he yelled, yanking back on the stick. He pressed forward on the throttle and dropped countermeasures, the sound of water rushing around his shields as the Trident shot through the depths of the ocean. “Tiger, Rock. Do you copy?”

Nothing.

“If anyone is hearing me,” he said, his voice straining as the force of the Trident’s thrust mixed with gravity pushed him into the seat, “I’m under attack. Track this transmission to my location. I repeat: I have found the pirate vessel and I am under attack.”

The pirate missile hit the countermeasure behind him and exploded. The bubble illuminated the darkness of the depths. The Trident tumbled, its nose spinning end-over-end. Austin’s helmet smacked the dashboard. He shook his head and corrected his course.

“Rock, Tiger,” his gamma wave crackled. “Do you copy?”

“Copy, Tiger.”

“SITREP. We detected a blast and are in route.”

Austin looked at the dashboard, the submersible driving hard to escape the reach of the sensor burst. “The enemy vessel is heading for Base Prime, for San Francisco, sir.”

“Maintain your track,” Braddock snapped. “On our way. Tizona, break off your search and head for Rock’s point. I am just to the north of the position and on my way.”

The sensor image of the submersible flickered on Austin’s gauge. A projectile emerged from the submersible’s signal, breaking away and blasting toward the surface.

“Tiger!” Austin yelled, leaning forward. “The pirate has launched a missile! I repeat: a missile has been fired and is heading toward Base Prime!”

“Rock, you have to take down that missile,” Braddock said, his voice calm. “The rest of us will target the submersible.” Braddock paused. “You have to take out that missile.”

Austin swallowed, adjusting his power configuration. “I copy.”

Diverting all his power to the engines, Austin buried the throttle. The Trident lurched forward. He adjusted his course to a forty-five degree angle, driving hard for the surface. The sensors showed the missile screaming away from the submersible. As he passed high over the enemy vessel, Austin dropped one more sensor bursts, painting the pirate for the other Tridents.

“You have your target, Tiger,” Austin said.

“Copy,” Braddock said.

The missile shot away from him, the distance growing. Austin swallowed, willing his Trident forward. He pursued, his speed greatly reduced in the drag of the ocean. The missile broke through the water’s surface and adjusted course, flying parallel with the ocean. After a moment, the missile disappeared from his sensors.

Austin’s Trident broke through the ocean’s surface and into the dusk sky. He rolled twice, the water flying off his shields. The Trident increased speed, free in the open air. Leaving enough energy in his lasers for a volley, he dropped his shields to nothing and watched the energy banks drop, effectively turning his Trident into a flying missile.

He gripped the stick.
A missile to catch a missile.

Activating his targeting computer, he searched the sky for any contact. Behind him, the sky blazed orange as the sun set. Even after seeing the wonders of the nebula near Tarton’s Junction, the sunset of the Pacific Ocean rivaled its beauty. His sensor picked up two commercial flights off the coast of California, but nothing else within one hundred MUs. He leveled off at five hundred feet over the surface.

“In open air and in pursuit,” Austin said.

“Roger. Engaging the target,” Braddock announced.

“Copy.”

Austin listened to the other Tizona pilots battling the pirate vessel, orders rattled across the gamma wave. He heard Skylar’s voice, calling out a hit. They would make sure another missile wouldn’t threaten Base Prime, but they counted on him to shoot down this missile screaming for San Francisco. Shaking his attention back to his task, he continued checking his sensors as the coast of California came closer. Where was this missile?

He pulled up, increasing his altitude to hopefully get a better vantage point on the missile and catch a glimpse of the projectile’s thrust in the fading light of day. With Base Prime closing in, he wouldn’t have much time to take out the missile before it descended on San Francisco. Mom, Kadyn and the entire city would be destroyed in the blast.

Nubern’s warning would come true if he missed, the dynamics of the world’s perspective of Earth’s place in the universe would shatter and fade away.

An alarm sounded. The missile broke through the sensor range near a small fishing vessel, climbing hard away from sea level. Even in the darkening sky, he saw the water shoot up into the air like a geyser, the thrust close enough to the ocean’s surface to send water spewing across the fishing ship. The missile moved fast. Thirty MUs in front of him. He lowered the Trident’s nose, bringing the fighter down on a steep angle. His speed increased, faster than he had ever flown before. His helmet rocked, the canopy and the dashboard rattling. Risking a glance at his laser’s energy banks, he estimated he could squeeze off four shots, maybe five, before his power ran dry.

He lowered his gaze. The MUs ticked down on his targeting computer. Twenty-five. Twenty. Fifteen. The crosshairs fell just ahead of the missile.

He squeezed the trigger.

Two laser bolts passed over the missile, striking the water. Clouds of vapor shot into the air. He pulled back, fired again. A bolt passed under the missile. The pirate’s weapon flashed, kicking into another speed. The MUs increased. Eighteen MUs. Twenty-two.

Once the missile passed fifty MUs, the power of his lasers diminished drastically.

He looked up. The city lights flickered in the dusk light, sending light trickling out over the water like electric currents.

He had two shots. Maybe.

Twenty-five MUs away.

He fired. The bolt passing just under the missile’s wing as it shot away from him.

Thirty MUs.

He closed his eyes briefly.
Please.

When he opened his eyes, a calmness fell over him. As the missile arched up, increasing altitude off the coast, he adjusted his course and shot for what he hoped would be the downward angle of the missile. He rested his crosshairs below the missile.

Wait.

Thirty-five MUs.

Wait.

Forty MUs.

The missile dipped forward, aiming directly for the heart of the city and into Austin’s crosshairs.

He pulled the trigger.  

The sky exploded. A blast wave shot across the bluish sky of early dusk. He leaned back in his seat, gasping. Changing course to fly parallel to the city, he watched the burning wreckage of the missile falling from the sky. It crashed into the ocean, sending a plume of water shooting into the air. He banked, circling his kill like a vulture and verifying the missile hadn’t hit a civilian vessel.

He distributed the Trident’s power, shifting as much engine power back into the shields as possible. Once the power transferred, he activated the shroud and looked at the city lights of San Francisco. He checked his sensors. Nothing flew over the city.

Austin smiled.
“Why not?”
he thought.

He soared over San Francisco. A warmth washed over him. The population was unaware an invisible “UFO” flew just over the skyscrapers.

He leveled off and watched the sun finally disappear into the ocean, the sky rapidly transitioning to darkness. Changing course, there was one last thing he had to do.

He took a slow, deep breath and exhaled.

In the final light of the long day, Austin slowly turned his Trident towards the Golden Gate Bridge. People passed over the bridge, tending to their daily activities. Austin passed under the bridge knowing he saved them. Austin flew in silence, taking in the moment.

Keying his navigation computer, he searched for the other Tridents under the ocean. Several signals popped up on the sensors. He pressed to transmit using his whisper.

“Tiger, Rock. Do you copy?”

“Copy, Rock. We’ve taken care of our problem. SITREP.”

Austin grinned. “The projectile is no more.”

“Very good, Rock.” Braddock paused. “Toad took a direct hit and is headed back to the nest. Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Austin frowned, recognizing the concern in Braddock’s voice. He glanced at the sensor, noticing the Tridents linking up above the ocean. “What’s the problem, sir?”

“We have another incoming vessel,” Braddock grumbled. “Just curved in around the moon.”

Austin sighed. “What now?”

“We’re going to check it out,” Braddock said, his voice sounding fatigued for the first time today. “Form up on our wing.”

“I’m on my way, sir.”             

The Tridents shot through the darkness like angels of the night, their position lights twinkling as they formed into a perfect seven craft ‘V’ formation. Braddock announced Gan had taken a hit during their fight with the pirate submersible, forcing him to turn back for Atlantis.

Atlantis granted another disruptor to render Earth’s detection technology useless. The false solar flares would prevent radar and from picking up the Tridents as they rushed to meet this new threat.

The angle of their trajectory increased until the Tridents soared into the upper atmosphere at ninety-degrees. Austin pressed back into his seat, quietly wishing he had taken a few stimulants with him before he left Atlantis.

“Any sign you were seen back there?” Braddock asked.

“I don’t know,” Austin admitted. “I activated the shroud, but only after the missile was eliminated. Base Prime is safe, though.”

“Well done, Lieutenant.”

Wisps of clouds shot past the canopy as the stars poked through the atmosphere like twinkling beacons of light in the darkness. The Tridents pulled away from Earth’s embrace, the ease of gravity leaving. Austin took a slow breath and looked to the side, watching as the curvature of Earth stretched out to the horizon. The sun dipped behind the planet as the terminator line swept out over the Pacific Ocean, leaving darkness in its wake and the sparkling lights of night. The Tridents soared fast and true, heading toward the lone incoming fighter.

“Spread out,” Braddock barked, shattering the silence. “I want plenty of space between us—ten MUs at least.”

The pilots acknowledged without question. Austin understood the order. The lone incoming pirate vessel could try a suicide stunner run, rendering the Tridents useless and opening the Earth up to whatever attack the pirates still had up their sleeves. Austin pushed away thoughts of a weapon of mass destruction, a last ditch effort to destroy a Legion backwater planet.

He shook his head. Rodon had wanted Atlantis intact. He wanted the port. The only question remaining was why?

Austin blinked, focusing on the incoming vessel descending from the moon. He ran a sensor check and glanced at the readout. A triangular fighter he had never seen before. The vessel was small, about a quarter the size of the Trident. The tiny vessel headed directly toward them, squawking a transponder his computer didn’t recognize. No missiles bristled from the wings of the small fighter, just two small laser guns sticking from the angular wings. A weak power signal emitted from the incoming bogey.

“I don’t have a reading, Tiger,” Austin said.

“Neither do I,” Braddock said. “Maintain your track.”

Austin sent a sensor wave again, searching for identification. Nothing. “Sir, I can’t tell if this is a friendly.”

“Copy. We’ll find out soon enough.” Braddock paused. “It’s my call. Given the events of today, we shoot first and ask questions later.”

The bogey dropped to within one hundred MUs. Austin activated his targeting computer. The invisible sensors searched for a signature to track the incoming bogey. No missile systems emitted from the incoming bogey.

“I’m not picking up any weapons other than those pop-pop laser guns,” Austin said, shaking his head. “I don’t even think this guy could hurt us.”

“We’re not taking that chance,” Braddock said.

A moment later, the targeting computer achieved a lock. The crosshairs turned red. The missile lock squealed. Whoever piloted the small fighter knew the Tridents had them locked.

“—copy?” the gamma wave came to life, hissing in Austin’s ear. “I repeat: this is a Legion pilot requesting assistance.”

Austin blinked. It couldn’t be …

“Please. This is a Legion pilot requesting assistance.”

Josh.

Austin switched for a secure channel using the Whisper. “Tiger, I know this pilot.”

“It’s a trick,” Braddock grumbled. “Preparing to fire. Tizona squadron, I’ve got this.”

A missile dropped from Braddock’s wing. A second after it dropped, the missile engaged and shot forward toward the triangular bogey.

“Bye, bye,” Braddock sneered.

The bogey launched into a series of evasive maneuvers. Austin watched, marveling at the pilot’s skill. The bogey looped, rolled, tricking the missile into thinking it had its prey, only to soar off into the void. The deadly dance continued until the missile ran out of fuel, tumbling harmlessly into the darkness.

“This is a Legion pilot! Call sign: Razor. Registration: Charlie-Hotel-Alpha- Delta-oh-nine-two-one! Hold your fire!”

Austin leaned over the stick. “Tiger! I know this pilot!”

His heart raced as he thought of his friend. Josh had died on board the
Sabre
. Hadn’t he? Could he really be returning to Earth after this much time had passed? Is that even possible?

Braddock transmitted on the secure channel. “Rock, voices can be altered. This could be a trick. It’s not real.”

“Captain, we outnumber this bogey seven to one,” Austin pleaded. “Should we give him a chance?”

Braddock paused, the range to target dropping. The triangular fighter piloted by someone claiming to be “Razor” leveled out after the impressive evasive maneuvers, and continued on a course parallel to Earth.

“Tizona pilots,” Braddock transmitted via Whisper, “form up behind the bogey. Maintain a missile lock. Rock, I’m giving you one minute. If this guy changes course one MU toward Earth, I want all fighters to fire, see if he can dodge that.”

Austin sighed. “Very well, sir.”

Keying for primary gamma wave transmission, Austin took a deep breath before speaking. “Unknown vessel claiming to be the Legion pilot known as Razor, this is Rock. You must maintain your current course parallel with Earth. We have your vessel locked and we are prepared to fire. If you change course to flee or make a move toward Earth, you will be destroyed. Please respond.”

After a long pause, the voice responding sounded weaker. “Rock? Is it really you?”

Austin swallowed. “This is Rock. Please verify your identity.”

“How?” the pilot breathed. “I’ve known you your whole life. What do you want me to say?”

Austin chewed on his bottom lip. “We need verification of your identity.”

No response came back from the fighter, but it maintained its parallel course with Earth.

“Rock, I understand,” the pilot said after a long pause. “You were at my house when you found out your Dad died. We were playing a board game.”

Austin’s eyes watered. He keyed for the Whisper. “Is that good enough, Tiger?”

“You need more. That information could have been in your file or gleamed from your Earth accounts.”

Austin sighed, leaning back into his seat. “Yes, sir.”

He maintained his missile lock on the strange fighter, the crosshairs burning blood red. Clearing his throat, he transmitted on the gamma wave, “Okay. Keep going.”

“What do you mean?” the pilot asked, frustration mounting in his tone. He sighed. “I watched you play baseball. Not much, but I did watch you play.”

Austin nodded. “Go on.”

The Tridents maintained their track, ready to pounce on the bogey if it made a move. Austin leaned forward in his seat, waiting for the pilot to respond.

“Austin,” he whispered, “I just want to go home. I want to go to the coffee shop. I would like to see Kadyn, listen to her laugh while we pretend not to look at Marilyn.” His voice cracked, sounding like he choked. “I want to go home, Austin. I don’t have anything left in me. Do what you will.”

Austin blinked several times, thinking of the friend he had lost. No one else would know about the coffee shop, about the black and white photo of Marilyn Monroe hanging in the establishment. Austin closed his eyes, imagining they could return to the coffee shop after all of this as if they headed home after high school. But those days were long gone, and they would never come again.

Opening his eyes, he transmitted in the open. “Tiger, Rock. This is definitely Razor. He’s trying to return home. I say we let him land.”