Tales of the Strider: Episode 2 - Sneak Peek

 

NOTE: This is unfinished text. There may be edits prior to full release.

                                                                                                                                           

TALES OF THE STRIDER: EPISODE 2 - THE HOVER-RAIL HEIST

Chapter 1 (Preview Edition)

WHAT AN ABSOLUTELY BORING job.

                The thought came to Joran Mills out of nowhere, really. Seated in the deployment chamber with the rest of his squadmates, he was really doing all he could to keep from dozing off and drifting into a deep sleep. If it wasn’t for the constant nudges from the security trooper seated next to him—Hinson, Mills remembered—then he probably would have been asleep long ago.

                Another trooper let out a groan a couple seats down, then removed his armored mask, the maglock releasing with a snap-hiss as he lifted the helm. “Something has to happen. I can’t go on with such a dull job as this.”

                Mills didn’t know this trooper’s name—only knew he was a rookie like him, maybe two or three years older. The young trooper passed a gloved hand through his fiery red hair as he let out a chuckle. “I swear, I’m about to die of boredom.”

                A pair of boots thudded to Mills’s left, and he knew who it was without having to look: Sergeant Boris Grilac—or, as so many men in his unit liked to call him, “Taskmaster.” Grilac was an older man, probably pushing his mid-forties if Mills had to guess, and his worn and aged face showed it. Beneath the cavalcade of scars adorning his face, Grilac had enough wrinkles and creases to make a cratered moon look smooth.

                “Just be glad you have so much dullness to complain about, Parks,” Grilac grumbled. “This run has gone a lot smoother than so many others have in the past. In all my years working this rail line, I’ve seen quite a few raids, gunfights, and deaths.”

                The red-haired trooper—Parks—let out a snort. He obviously was unfazed by Grilac’s attempt at dissuasion. “I’d rather be facing down a whole horde of rail-robbers right now, alone, than sit here listening to Molder snore,” Parks joked, jabbing a thumb at the oafish, dozing trooper next to him.

                Upon hearing his name, Molder stirred and quickly jolted. “Wait, what? Huh? What do you mean snore? I was . . . erm . . . just resting my eyes, is all.”

                Parks snorted again, then flashed his arrogant, youthful eyes at Grilac. “See?”

                Grilac grimaced before letting his gaze shift to the other troopers in the cabin. “I know this might be a lot quieter of a job than you boys anticipated when signing up for it, but believe me, it has its moments. Both tough ones and exciting ones. Sometimes, they blend together. But the thing all moments share is their importance, both the dull ones and the exciting ones.

                “You are protectors of the hover-rail Exactor, the fastest and most important transport vessel on all of Gorlax Seven. Without this rail line, the whole planet would likely fall. It runs from one end of the world to the next. All avenues of trade and transportation rely on this rail. Understood?”

                The troopers all nodded—with varying degrees of energy. Mills glanced down, his bright blue eyes penetrating the floor of the hover-rail’s cabin. Nervously, he reached his hand up, scratching at the scraggly black hair crowning his head. His hair was getting a bit long, perhaps even past regulation length for a Gorlax Security trooper, but no one was too stringent on such regulations out on Gorlax 7.

                While the Exactor was critical to the survival of Gorlax 7, in all honesty, Gorlax 7 was not too important to anyone else in the galaxy except for the residents of both it and its sister world, Gorlax 6. As the last planet in the Gorlax system, Gorlax 7 was the least-inhabited planet and thought of more as a mining operation, producing vital ores and other supplies to be shipped off-world to its system-mates to be in turn transformed into other goods to be utilized in trade with other systems.

                So, in all honesty, Gorlax 7 was vital to helping the whole system flourish, but really earned no dividends for itself.

                Just another cog in the giant, turning wheel of the galaxy.

                A chime sounded from further in the cabin, and Mills flicked his eyes towards Grilac, who pulled his communicator from his belt, holding it to his mouth. “Grilac here.”

                “Sergeant,” a voice answered. It was familiar to Mills; it belonged to the rail’s pilot, some Federation vet named Straxon. “We’re coming up on Tavon’s Pass.”

                “All right. I got you. We’ll be ready. Grilac out.” The sergeant stowed his comm away, pointing to Mills, Hinson, Parks, and another trooper. “You four, with me. Everyone else, make sure you’re ready for anything. Tavon’s Pass is the prime spot for an ambush, so we need to be ready.”

                The troopers all nodded as Mills and the other appointed men got to their feet, clamping their helmets over their heads as they readied their weapons and moved with the sergeant.

                The standard Gorlax Security outfit consisted of navy-blue bodysuits, with teal-colored armor padding covering the undersuits. The helmets were composed of similarly teal-colored frames, with adjustable visors that could be lowered to cover the wearer’s face or raised to be out of the way, whichever way was preferred.

                Grilac slapped the control panel at the end of the cabin and the doors whooshed open. The sergeant led the way through, clutching his rifle tightly. Once the doors closed behind them, Grilac cocked his head. “Tavon’s Pass is a largely unprotected area on this line,” he started. “It runs through a hollowed-out rock of a mountain, so comm lines will be pretty well severed.”

                “Um, begging your pardon, sir,” Parks said, raising his hand slightly, “there hasn’t been an attack on one of the Gorlax rails in over a year. The bigwigs on the core planets seem to think most raiders are all but extinct. Legends, to spook rooks with.” He chuckled and nudged Mills. “Isn’t that right, Mills?”

                Mills furrowed his brow beneath his mask as Grilac let out a soft groan or sigh—he couldn’t distinguish between the two. “Out on Gorlax One, they view us about as importantly as Tanbin.”

                Mills kept himself well-read on the latest news and events in the galactic realm; Tanbin was about as desolate an economy as you could get.

                Grilac continued: “The bigwigs, as you so call them, don’t really know a thing about the goings-on this far out from their nice, pampered homes. While it’s true we haven’t suffered a raid in over a year, it would be unwise to lower all our defenses. The Exactor has always been protected a certain, scheduled way as long as I’ve been her lead guardian.”

                The sergeant froze and turned on his heel, eye-to-eye with Parks. The younger security trooper froze likewise, nearly leaping back in shock. “And I’m not about to change just because some wide-eyed, overconfident rookie thinks I’m too overzealous.” Grilac paused for dramatic effect before adding, “Understood?”

                Parks inhaled sharply, then nodded. “Understood.”

                “Good.” Just as Grilac turned to the others, a chime sounded. The sarge’s comm.

                “Sergeant—we’re entering Tavon’s Pass now. Comm channels are now down and out.”

                “Roger that,” Grilac replied. Lowering his comm, he eyed his men. “Be ready for anything. We’re completely vulnerable now.”

                As if on cue, a sound of thunder came from the next cabin down. “That didn’t sound good,” Hinson muttered as Grilac spat a curse, waving to his troopers.

                “Move out! Go, go, go!”

                The five soldiers spilled down the emptiness of the cabin’s corridor as Grilac thumped the controls. Just as the doors slowly slid open, a scene of chaos unfolded before them: there were two Gorlax Security enforcers, armed with only laser pistols, but their weapons did them no use. They were locked in hand-to-hand combat with four other individuals, clothed in tattered garb that appeared to be the dress of wandering wayfarers, pilgrims of a bygone era. Their faces were covered with dark hoods and tied cloth to hide their identities.

                “Look, reinforcements!” one spat out as the others all took notice of their arrival. Another grabbed one of the beleaguered troopers by his throat and spun, hurling the man through the opening that the attackers had come through. From the looks of it, the raiders had torn a hole through the side with an explosive of some sort. With an elongated scream, the man cried as he flew into the dark abyss of Tavon’s Pass.

                The other two attackers wrestled with the other trooper, dragging him towards the opening as well, although they acted too slowly; the newcomers leveled their weapons, opening fire. Their shots tore through the two attackers and both collapsed in heaps on the ground. Another of the raiders drew a customized blaster from his holster, although he was cut down before he could fire. The final one drew a rustic blade of some sort and charged, but was quickly executed with a well-placed headshot from Sergeant Grilac’s weapon.

                Mills rushed to the injured trooper, helping him stagger to his feet.

                “Torq, what happened?” Grilac said, the question more of a demand.

                The dazed trooper shook his head. “I’m not sure, Sarge, my head is still spinning like crazy. Porter and I were just passing the time when all the sudden an explosion went off and these guys started coming through. They were on us before we could even draw our weapons.”

                Grilac cursed again as he turned to the others. “It’s a sure bet that these raiders will try to go for the cockpit again. Mills, you take Hinson and Parks to the cargo bay and keep a watch on it; have the rest of the men prepare for boarding.”

                The three designated troopers all nodded as they turned and took off down the corridor. “Well, Parks,” Mills said, “is this enough action for you now?”

+++

Mills skidded to a stop in the main transport cabin, Parks and Hinson doing likewise. The troopers all got to their feet, shuffling helmets and rifles in their hands. “What’s going on?” a more experienced soldier said, slinging his weapon against his shoulder. “We heard shooting and were waiting for orders.”

                “Raiders,” Mills choked out between pants. “They broke through and made a push for the cockpit. We stopped the initial group, but Sergeant Grilac thinks that was just the first stage.”

                “He’s probably right,” the soldier replied. “Ol’ Taskmaster normally is.”

                Mills nodded. “Sarge said to prepare for boarding. Squad A, set up a perimeter and patrol it in case they cut through one of the central cabins. Squad B, go assist the sarge at the cockpit. Squad C, form up on me.”

                The other troops nodded as they clamped their helmets over their heads, splitting up into their assigned formations.

                Mills began to move briskly, Parks, Hinson, and the newly appointed squad following close behind. As they jogged, Mills’s comm sounded and he loosened it from his belt. “Mills here.”

                “Mills,” Grilac’s voice cut through the air. “Straxon ran a scan of the ship’s outer hull; raiders are on top of the cargo hold. You need to secure it now.”

                “Affirmative. We’re almost there.”

                Mills was the first to reach the cargo bay, but he could already hear laserfire being exchanged behind the carbonsteel doors as he slapped the controls. The door slowly rolled open as the last standing security trooper sunk to his knees, laser holes charred through his torso. The raiders before him all glanced up, only mildly shocked at the arrival of the reinforcements. Before any of them could take fire or bark a command, the security platoon had leveled their weapons and begun to open fire.

                The first line of three raiders stood no chance; lasers tore through them, scorching both flesh and cloth as the attackers doubled over, instantly dead. Their reinforced backup quickly fanned out for cover behind cargo crates, returning fire.

                One shot seared through the visor of one of the security troopers and another nearly domed Mills as the trooper ducked down into an alcove behind the door. Another shot singed Parks as the young trooper shrieked a curse, spinning into cover on the opposite side of the corridor. The other five troopers split into two groups, running for cover, although one took a precise shot to the chest and spun down the corridor, crashing down in a clatter.

                One of the raiders peeked to open fire and was quickly hit by a shot from the Gorlax Security forces. Another, down on his knees, gripped the edge of the crate he was taking cover behind, and tugged it towards the hole that he and his companions had seared through the hover-rail’s hull.

                It didn’t take a genius to realize the raider’s plan. “They’re trying to dump the cargo!” Parks yelled. As if to thwart the action, another security trooper started to charge the raider, but was quickly cut down by a volley of laserfire.

                “Focus on him! Don’t let them dump the cargo!” Mills yelled, and the remaining troopers opened fire on the raider, but to no avail; they could only watch in horror as he gave the crate a sharp kick and it sailed out into the abyss of the caverns below.

                “Fask!” Parks cursed.

                Mills took quick aim and fired, and the shot scorched the raider’s shoulder. He doubled over, and in midair took careful aim with his own pistol and fired. The shot seared through Mills’s ankle, and the young trooper let out a yell in pain as he collapsed into a heap in the middle of the corridor.

                “Mills!” Hinson yelled, stepping from cover to grab his companion’s shoulder plate. Hinson gave a sharp tug to pull Mills behind cover, but he was not quick enough to protect himself as a shot tore through his chest. Hinson dropped to his knees as Mills watched in horror before the soldier pitched forward, dead.

                Parks pressed himself up against the wall as laserfire scorched the air in the cabins, and he glanced to see that only four remained, including himself. The young soldier let out a sigh as another pair of raiders began shifting another cargo crate.

                “They’ve got another one!” one of the other troopers yelled, opening fire. Mills, Parks, and the other trooper turned and fire at the raiders, but the cargo crate offered too much protection and armor to shield the raiders as they forced it through the gap, same as the other.

                The raiders opened fire on the beleaguered Gorlax Security forces, and the remaining troops were forced to duck back into cover as the shots sailed past their heads. Mills glanced back just in time to see the doors to the cabin zoom open. A backup platoon of five security troops flooded into the room, taking up positions and opening fire. The raiders doubled back, and one barked, “Abort mission! Get out of here!”

                “There’s only one more crate!” another raider yelled. Mills glanced to see it was the raider whose shoulder he had wounded.

                “I don’t care,” the first raider said. “There’s too many of them. We need to go now!”

                Without another word, the raiders charged for the split in the hull and, one by one, dove out. Before the last one—the one whom Mills had shot—jumped out, he paused and turned, and despite the shroud over his face, Mills could tell the man was locking eyes with him. He didn’t have to see the man’s face to see the smile beneath his mask as he gave a mock salute and turned to dive out of the hole.

                Mills clambered to his feet and rushed for the hole, peering out just in time to see the raiders, equipped with jetpacks, soaring away from the hover-rail. Letting out a deep sigh, Mills sank to the ground, ripping his helmet from his head. He let out several shallow breaths as he ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

                How could things go so wrong?