Hood watched his tactical display closely through his heads up display. The balance between the energy he had set to recharge his shields and the rising power level in the wormhole generator was perfect. His shield charge bounced between ninety nine point seven percent and one hundred percent of nominal as his Uriel fighter collided with the heavy particles in the nebula.
The brown and blue matter parted around the ship, just centimetres away from the cockpit canopy. He'd never flown through such a dense dust cloud and was amazed at how the Uriel fighters so easily survived the passage.
"Hood, how's your charge? I can barely get a read through this muck," Buster's voice crackled over their communicators.
He enjoyed being her Sensor Intercept Officer, but having his own ship was a higher thrill. "Reserve cells are almost at full. How are yours?"
"Good. I'll be ready to open a wormhole as soon as we get past the edge of the nebula. If you can call this cloud a nebula."
"More like God farted and moved on if you ask me. I haven't seen so much brown since I cleaned the latrines aboard the Mayberry Twelve," commented Hatter.
"I don't need to hear that story again."
"But you enjoyed it so much the first time."
"I threw up in my mouth a little actually," Buster replied.
The pair were always good for banter, whether it was during a holographic strategy table game in the bunks or on patrol. Hood couldn't say Buster and Hatter were friends, but there was an ease, a familiarity the pair enjoyed that he normally saw only in family.
Buster would never admit it, and Hatter would laugh it off, but the squad leader and the squad clown got along, and it didn't take long for them to sort things out if Hatter screwed up. Hood didn't trust the scrawny pilot, but if Buster could trust him enough to bring him along, he felt he could give him a chance.
"Coming up on the edge of the nebula," Buster announced.
The starfighter trio broke through the edge of the dust cloud, and Hood couldn't help but be surprised at how sudden the change was. From a soup of brown and white debris to open space. A trail of the stuff followed them for several kilometres.
His tactical panel and heads up display lit up with red markers. "Oh my God, you seeing this Buster?" he asked as he checked the ship profiles.
"Can't miss it."
"Can't wait to tell this story; 'so we come out of this cloud of space crap and what do we see? A whole deep space carrier group four hundred thousand klicks to port.' That's gonna be a hit in the bunks," Hatter muttered.
"I hope you're making calculations for our wormhole over there Hatter," Buster threatened.
"Oh, hell yeah!"
While the pair went on Hood took a closer look at the scan. "That carrier is five klicks long, four wide and they've got about twenty destroyers and battlecruisers with them. We've got to warn Triton."
"We have our orders, contact the Clever Dream. Deliver the encrypted message. Besides, there’s no way they’ll try to come out of the cloud at this end. They’ll have a good shot at avoiding this… armada."
Hood hurriedly programmed a time released message beacon, copied a capture from his sensor suite to it and launched the small orb behind them into the cloud. "That won't start transmitting until it's in range of the Triton."
"If they didn't spot us before, they have now," Buster scolded. "How are those calcula-" An intense flash of light burst in front of them.
When Hood's eyes adjusted there was nothing but scorched wreckage where Buster's fighter had been. His tactical display told him her Uriel had been destroyed by a high powered antimatter particle beam.
"Holy shit! Buster! What happened?" Hatter asked.
"Send me your calculations Hatter."
"But Buster! Can you get a read on her? Her cockpit section isn't here, it must have been blown into the cloud! We have to-"
"She's gone! Her cockpit was vaporized! Now send me your calculations so we can get the hell out of here!"
Hatter didn't reply.
"You can mourn her later, just finish that math before we-" The calculations for his wormhole compression and course appeared on his navigational display, sent over by encrypted laser link as they had been trained to do. There would be no way the carrier group could find out where they were going or how long it would take them to get there.
“Hood, they’re leaving. Look.”
He looked at his tactical display and couldn’t believe his eyes. “What the hell? Their transponders just flipped from Caran Enterprises to Regent Galactic. Something big is going down and I don’t plan to be a part of it.”
“So they kill-“ Hatter took a shuddering breath before going on, “her and just move on.”
“Biggest wormhole I’ve ever seen, and they’re all taking off. Let’s not stick around for any parting pot shots.” Hatter didn't bother verifying the wormhole calculations, he just dumped all the power his fighter had in reserve and stored in its shields into the wormhole generator. The power systems whined as the space in front of them distorted.
With a burst from their thrusters they entered the compressed space and left the wreckage of their squad leader's starfighter behind.