Peter Blunt Space Warrior Marauders Of Death

By John Leader

In a universe cold and hard Peter Blunt Space Warrior battles and fights for a living. But what must he do when he finds out some craze has placed an illegal bounty on his head. In the universe and galaxies bigger and longer than life and in the dead regions of space and on interplanetary space stops visited and used by all planetary travelers he must search and find a way to survive against the odds Who the hell can he turn to and where and what must he face in the desolation of a space larger than humanity? How can Peter Blunt Space Warrior end the bounty on his head and stop the marauder’s vicious bloodletting attacks on corporate convoys?

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Leader
• Release date: Sep 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463261149

John Leader

John Leader enjoys writing science fiction, his first choice. He writes horror just as well. He works using commercial arts techniques and creates his own book covers. His science fiction stories take on action adventure themes.He reads general and technical magazines and books when he can find good materials.He is a part time martial arts practitioner and is familiar with a variety of defense systems.

Book preview

Peter Blunt Space Warrior

Marauders Of Death

by

John Leader

Copyright 2019 by John Leader

Smashwords Edition

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Peter Blunt Space Warrior

Marauders Of Death

by

John Leader

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Got Ja’

Chapter 2

Pirate Attack

Chapter 3

Blood Search

Chapter 4

Underground Law

Chapter 5

Single Combat

Chapter 6

Black Market Boss

Chapter 7

Not So Fast

Chapter 8

Shoot First

Chapter 9

Fire Power

Chapter 10

Executive Surprise

Peter Blunt Space Warrior

Marauders of Death

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Chapter 1

Got Ja’

Moving in travel star convoy formation the materials and merchandise transporter spaceships depended on a small cluster of first class fighters to defend them against stray asteroids, debris, and looters targeting easy pickings. The corporate convoys had recently been thrashed by space pirates, blood hungry marauders that suddenly swooped in, fast and powerful, blasting anything that moved in the well paced convoy line. The transports carried all manner of raw materials and merchandise. Several extra space warriors had been hired on this transport mission and they flew well equipped corporate fighters to escort the valuables carried by the corporate space haulers and by the collation of businesses in the star region to move their highly sought after merchandise. Because the raids were rather recent the businessmen setting up the convoys didn’t recognized the viciousness of the raiders even when no survivors were left and all ships were destroyed leaving debris fields floating and forming cluster groups in place of the convoy ships.

No one suspected that it was Kalamar Ankorton, the backbone of the operation, who had created the marauders and orchestrated the vicious attacks in the deserts of space for easy corporate loot. I hired on to protect this convoy loaded with top notch merchandise for the planetary systems, the escort job on the run paid a bit more and I wanted the additional pay. But well hidden behind some large free floating asteroid fields and massive metal free floating formation that give off low space radiation and other space frequencies lay raid ship ready to attack and other marauding ships waited behind nearby moons of planets holding for the word to move in and annihilate the corporate convoy when it came into the planned coordinate space axis of the designated attack space plane.

To all wolf fighters, execute plan carnivores and swoop in and attack. Deploy your wolf groups as planned and hit the convoy with all your armament. Leave the time delay plasma bombs primed and ready for delayed destruction but keep the time short and when all loot is secured relay to the bomb setters to activate the timers. I want no corporate ships left intact, no survivor to give away information about our attack or fighters, and no loot for salvage, Kalamor Ankorton gave vicious orders that carried iron and death for his men and with intended deep malice aimed against the corporate convoy transport ships to slow to manure against the superior fighter marauder ships tearing and snapping like killer wolves in the timers of the wild.

The calm of space suddenly disappeared as the convoy carrying merchant products met surprise from unwarranted attacking space fighters darting in and firing weapons that hit everything in the corporate convoy line. I saw the cluster of attack ships separating like pack wolves each with gnarling teeth marking their targets. This was no ordinary marauder group, the bandits attacked in military like formation with specific targets. Even the escort fighters faced laser fire that tore them to shreds because they were outnumbered from attack ships that looked ordinary yet moved like first class fighter with skilled pilots at the controls. I knew instantly that this overwhelming attack went beyond any standard raid I had ever seen. And I was right and as I attacked the marauder ships nearest me I found myself battling fighters from all sides. Before I could regain control of my fighter I was hit and floating free near the convoy line of corporate haulers and drifting off in my badly shot up fighter into the void of space. Shit, I thought, how was this possible with a security escort of fighters? My fighter engine shut off as the kaleidoscope of death floated around me in no specific plane or direction.

In the heat of the space dog fights I saw fighter ship’s debris spinning free in all directions, parts silently whizzed around me; the pieces formed fragments of all sizes from the smallest to complete space fighters with dead pilots still in their cockpits. A junkyard of fighter fragments saturated the battle space sector with large and small metal chunks, some showing flash holes that glowed from penetrating laser fire and other pieces tumbled heading in no particular direction and others lay torn or as crumbled ship pieces that floated in unrecognizable mangled states, and some of the larger torn metal sheets showed scarps and abrasion markings left from the head-on space battle clashes of laser fire from the marauders they encountered. The metal plates that floated mindlessly were now just scraps of deformed metal torn from the sides of destroyed corporate fighters some glowing and others metal shreds fuming and marking a smoke trail of sorts that clung in empty space. Multiple fragments floated passed my dead fighter’s clear canopy, several bounced or scraped the fighter’s bubble cockpit, and I could see numerous shards of metal debris embedded in the shredded fighter’s skin wings and fuselages. I kept wondering what my fighter looked like from the outside. Death could be lingering so close and I floated like a fly tangled in the webbed vacuum of deadly space waiting for menacing fangs of death to reach me at anytime.

As I looked into the darkness and the shattered scraps of metal left form the fierce space battle I repeated my hail, This is fighter 334 Alpha squad. My rescue tri-coordinates are 384, 394, 300. Send hover pick up," I checked the transponder single and the visual text that traveled with the radar transceiver recue audio request.

My eyes fixed on my oxygen supply gage. It was intact with a two week supply if the gages were working and if no problems changed the filled tanks. Was I just lucky or waiting a slow death if rescue never found me? Off at a distance I zeroed in on the space debris collector automated reclamations ships. Which planet or corporation they belonged to I didn’t know, but they seemed to always show up when wreckage and remains were present and this time it was no different. Someone was going to pick up a good collection and fees from the battle leftovers wreckage and clutter left by the destructive marauders and pulverized corporate convoy.

Sitting dead in space I again checked my beacon signal and it was strong if the energy cells held up. This had been another fierce and craze battle, most were, and in this encounter I was caught out numbered ten to one even though I was a skillful and proven space fighter pilot, but I had been hit simultaneously from different angles and from multiple enemy space fighters. These guys were well trained and coordinated attack with precision. Why they chose to gang up on me I didn’t know and didn’t care but it made me think twice. All I knew is that I was alive for now, and hoped there wasn’t some suicide jerk coming back to finish me off. It had happened to some fighters in past skirmishes along the dark perimeter and in non-named battles lost to history.

This is Peter Blunt can anyone hear me? I’m a float, I looked up and down in front of me and around as my fighter rotated in free fall moving in endless space. I glanced at the fuel level at the zero line. I was lucky the cells didn’t explode and kill me or send me off into deep space and away from the battle space field area and from where my oxygen could easily get used up with the distance before they found my dead exploded corpus traveling in the fighter.

The fighter’s energy shield indicator looked fine and told me it was working. But was it functioning regular and on point, and yet I felt there was something wrong. I just felt it. My fighter got hit and was disabled too quickly. Getting hit was not unusual but something had failed me and that unknown disturbed me and that annoying unknown grain of sand rasped at me. Was I wrong, I thought? I had been wrong before but I had to survive and that hover pick up wasn’t in sight yet. Hell, I didn’t like sitting like some fragile asteroid in space waiting for target practice from some idiot on a routine space run. The longer I waited for rescue the greater the odds increased against my survival. I had seen space fighter blow up for no reason like some kind of floating time bomb.

One area of my suit felt cold and as I sat in my fighter it was obvious that my environmental space suit might kill me because something in the suit was off. I kept getting cold spots in different areas of my fighter suit but I couldn’t figure out the cause of the malfunction, the sealer kept patching the leaks and the instrumentation on the fighter and small cluster of light indicators on the suit were burned out. If this pattern held over time and the cold spots increased or multiplied or if the liquid sealer failed or depleted, the fighter would be my silent coffin. At least I wouldn’t have to pay for a planetary resting place. That was a laugh because corporations preferred to bury those hired by sending them into deep space or into the nearest burning