Free Racers of the Night: Science Fiction Stories by Brad R. Torgersen by Brad R. Torgersen Page B

There.
    Pong-pong-pong-pong-pong. Not a ghost signature. This was something solid. Several somethings.
    Not members of the Watchfleet.
    The attack came. From the direction Chang least expected.
    Eight small craft appeared like ghosts. Using a breed of engine unknown to Chang’s signature recognition software, they moved more quickly than any ships Chang had ever encountered before. Within moments each ship had detached several smaller vessels that were arcing in on Chang’s position.
    Missiles. Fast ones.
    Chang retracted his sensors and slammed his internal drive into action. Treading the fabric of space like an Olympic runner charging across a track, Chang shot out of the path of the incoming projectiles, weaving and dispensing countermeasures in his wake. He used the gravtrans to hurl an electronic shout into the universe: enemy units attacking, such-and-such coordinates, Watchfleet assistance needed!
    But there was no answer in response.
    Worse still, the missiles fired at Chang were different. Smart.
    With every twist and curve that Chang threw into his trajectory, the little missiles corrected and accelerated, blowing right through his countermeasures. Like their mothercraft, they moved much faster than he would have thought possible. No wonder none of the other Watchfleet units were responding to his calls. They’d probably been destroyed already, leaving him alone to defend himself.
    Chang felt tickles of panic running through his organic tissues.
    Simultaneously, a memory sprang into his consciousness …
    • • •
    Lucy’s father was a tall, unsmiling man. His cheeks were rosy in the cold Peridian IV air, and his overcoat was speckled with drops of water from the colony’s perpetual mist. Chang stood next to him; uncomfortably close. They hadn’t said a word to each other since accompanying Lucy to the playground with the twins.
    “Wave to Dad!” Lucy said, propping one of the boys up on a piece of colorful equipment. The little toddler, whom Chang had known all of two days, appeared joyfully bewildered as his head swiveled back and forth, looking for a face he hadn’t yet learned to recognize.
    Chang lifted an arm, half-smiling, and then dropped his hand to his side. His own military-issue overcoat was drawn tightly at the waist, collar turned up.
    “I’m sorry you had to get dragged all this way,” Chang said finally.
    Lucy’s father grunted.
    “What choice did I have? My daughter is all I have left. Her, and the boys.”
    “I wanted her to tell you before we left,” Chang said. “She kept evading the issue. When I shipped out, I didn’t know she was pregnant. I found out about the boys only after they’d been born. And by then she’d moved you out here to the colony.”
    Lucy’s father sighed, and for the first time turned and looked Chang in the eye.
    “It’s not your fault,” he rumbled, “but know this: You’re part of our lot now. Those two sons of yours, they’ve got some of me in them, and that makes us both responsible. No matter where you go or how old you are or what you see out there in space, those twins will never, ever stop needing you. It’s sealed in blood now, and there’s no going back.”
    Lucy looked at Chang affectionately. Her face became puzzled when he didn’t automatically return her smile. He was too busy staring at his sons, and realizing that at age 23 his life was now committed to a certain unbreakable trajectory …
    • • •
    The memory poofed away as quickly as it had come.
    A missile had closed to within lethal range.
    Desperately, Chang reversed his drive. His ship groaned under the intense stress of the maneuver, but the gravity distortion backwash caught the missile before it could arm itself—leaving a harmlessly dissipating cloud of metal flakes.
    Chang experienced short-lived relief. Then, forcing another structural groan, he reversed direction again. Moments before impact with the debris from the first missile, he dipped and curved, his