MARS RANGER PATROL: Shadow Fleet. Book 3

  

MARS RANGER PATROL: Shadow Fleet

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter Index

Chapter	Title	Summary
1	Extended Patrol	Captain Ramirez announces new longer patrol cycles and mandatory health protocols, forcing Scott and Alvarez to adapt to extended time in space.
2	Riding Double	Scott and Alvarez launch their first paired patrol in Justice-23 and Justice-24, establishing their working rhythm as they head into the outer belt.
3	Cold Contact	The Rangers respond to a dark beacon and discover a survivor from a claim-jumping attack, learning the attackers may have corporate ties.
4	Kern-519	Scott and Alvarez investigate the Kern-519 claim, find a murdered prospector, and begin pursuing the shadow cutters responsible.
5	Closing the Net	Using coordinated tactics, the Rangers disable three shadow cutters and take their crews into custody, confirming Red Star Consortium involvement.
6	Vesta-47	The Rangers rescue a family under attack and uncover evidence that the shadow fleet is systematically creating distressed claims for Helios.
7	Bigger Game	While transporting prisoners, Scott and Alvarez learn the shadow fleet is larger and more organized than they first believed.
8	Adjustments	Scott struggles with the side effects of Calsarite during the long patrol; Alvarez helps him manage the physical and emotional toll.
9	The Gathering	Scott and Alvarez locate the shadow fleet’s main operations base and discover it contains at least eleven ships, including a command vessel.
10	The Weight	Realizing they cannot take on the fleet alone, Scott and Alvarez decide to withdraw and report their findings to Captain Ramirez.
11	Shadows in the Cluster	As they head back to Probos, Alvarez analyzes the data and confirms the shadow fleet is part of a larger, coordinated campaign by Helios.
12	Markers in the Dark	Scott and Alvarez plant covert beacons to mark the shadow fleet’s location for a future return with greater force.
13	Seven Days in the Barn	Back on Probos Station, Scott begins his mandatory medical stand-down while grappling with the scale of the threat they uncovered.
14	Six Against Eleven	Ramirez, Scott, and Alvarez discuss the resources needed to confront the shadow fleet, realizing they must involve the Navy through piracy charges or a posse.
15	The Weight of Waiting	During stand-down, Scott and Alvarez reflect on the coming operation while waiting for approval to assemble a larger task force.

Chapter 1: Extended Patrol

Probos Station – Ranger Briefing Room

Senior Ranger Captain Elena Ramirez stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, the holographic sector map glowing behind her. John Scott and Sofia Alvarez sat across from her.

“The Belt isn’t getting any smaller, and Helios isn’t slowing down,” Ramirez said. “We’re extending the safe zone. New patrol standard starts now.”

She zoomed the map outward.

“Each tour will run nine days in the black — three days transit out, three days active patrol in the deep rocks, three days transit back. Then three days on-station. After two full tours you get a longer seven-day stand-down. Repeat the cycle.”

Scott shifted in his seat.

Ramirez continued without softening.
“During those three days on-station you will not be off the clock. Mandatory gym workouts in the outer ring, mandatory check-up with Dr. Rao, and every scrap of paperwork finished before you leave the station. That’s four to six hours a day taken out of your time. After that, yes — sleep, read a book, whatever you want. But the work gets done. The seven-day stand-down will be much the same. Don’t look too happy about it. It’s still easier than being on patrol, but it is not vacation.”

She looked straight at Scott.
“Especially you. If you had a horse you’d call the vet at the first sniffle, but when it’s your own body you just push through and hope it goes away. That stops now. Clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Scott said quietly.

Alvarez touched her rosewood cross. “Nine on, three on-station, nine on, seven on-station — we’ll treat the whole cycle like religion, Captain.”

“Good.” Ramirez killed the holo. “Justice-23 and Justice-24 are being prepped for the new endurance profile. Extra He3, additional rations, full weapons load. Your first extended tour kicks off in forty-eight hours. Dismissed.”

Probos Station – Medical Bay

The moment the briefing ended, Scott and Alvarez headed straight for Dr. Rao’s office as ordered. The doctor was already waiting, tablet in hand and a familiar silver tube on the desk between them.

“Sit,” Rao said. She didn’t waste time. “With these longer tours the old short-patrol supplements won’t cut it anymore. During the eight-hour tours and lighter runs we could get away with optional or lighter bone support — except during radiation storms. That changes now. Navy has issued Calsarite for years. Most serious miners take it too. You will both be on the full protocol starting today.”

She picked up the silver tube and held it up.

“High-bioavailable calcium in a form your body can actually use under low-g stress. Iodine — specifically to protect your thyroid from radioactive iodine released during solar particle events. It’s better than those iodine chews you’ve been using, John. Vitamin D for absorption, Vitamin K to steer the calcium into your bones instead of your arteries, and magnesium to support everything.

Plus the Osteo-Mimic Enzyme — OME-9. It’s not magic. It works by emulating the natural chemical signals your bones release when they’re under real mechanical load — the same signals that normally tell them to absorb and lay down new bone during hard physical work or Earth gravity. By mimicking that loading response, it tricks your skeleton into treating the calcium as if you’re doing strenuous labor, so it actually uses it instead of letting it leach away. One tube a day on patrol. Non-negotiable.”

Scott made a face. “Tastes like wet chalk and old pennies. I always figured cheese and milk were simpler.”

He turned the tube over in his fingers. “Why don’t they just add blackstrap molasses to this gupe? It’d give you iron and probably taste a hell of a lot better.”

Rao gave him a patient but firm look. “Blackstrap molasses does contain iron and some minerals, but it would create more problems than it solves out here. Iron can interfere with calcium absorption when taken together in the same formula. The molasses would also change the texture and stability of the paste in the tube, and the strong flavor clashes badly with the existing ingredients. We’d end up with something even harder to choke down for most people. The current formula is the best compromise we have for long-duration low-g work.”

Scott sighed. “Guess the cheese-and-milk days are over.”

“Effective immediately,” Rao confirmed. “First dose today. Both of you. Then gym. Then paperwork. I’ll see you both for full baseline scans before you ship out.”

Alvarez picked up one of the tubes and turned it in her fingers with practiced familiarity.

“I’ve been on it since my first Navy Peregrin deployment,” she said. “Chunky, nasty, but you learn why it matters. Fourteen days in a cold, cramped bird at five degrees with the lights low… this stuff kept the bones from turning to dust. Rangers have it easier — heat, light, more room. Still, the longer tours make this mandatory now.”

Scott took the tube she offered him. “Still think a little molasses wouldn’t hurt.”

Rao allowed herself the smallest smile. “Noted, Ranger. Now go take your first dose and get to the gym.”

Probos Station – Outer Ring, Deck 4 (“The Barn”)

Two hours later John Scott kicked the hatch shut behind him. Even at a steady 0.68 g the spin felt heavier knowing the next nine-day tour was coming — and that he now had a silver tube of Calsarite waiting in his med kit.

He hung his badge on the hook, dropped into the worn recliner, and let the wall screen flicker on. Ceres Channel 4 was running the old Western block again. This time it was Gunsmoke. Matt Dillon walked the dusty streets of Dodge City with that measured lawman stride, badge catching the sunlight.

Scott smiled faintly, cracked open a self-heating coffee pouch, and reached for the new silver tube. He squeezed the thick paste straight into his mouth, shuddered hard, chased it with coffee, and wiped his lips.

“Damn stuff,” he muttered. “Still think molasses would’ve helped.”

A sharp knock sounded. Alvarez stepped in before he could answer.

“Already reviewing the new threat board?” she asked, nodding at the screen.

“Tradition first,” Scott said. “Then the ledgers.”

Alvarez leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a small, knowing smile.

“Nine days out, mandatory Calsarite, four to six hours of gym and doctor visits on the three-day turns… You ready for the new rhythm, cowboy?”

Scott spun a slow practice loop with the cactus-fiber lariat.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Longer tours mean more ground we make safe. And this time the Law’s riding double.”

He flicked his wrist and the loop settled neatly over a wall hook.

Alvarez watched the rope settle. “At least we get heat and light out here. Navy never gave us that luxury on the old birds.”

Scott gave a tired grin. “Small mercies, partner. Small mercies.”

The hatch hissed shut behind her. On the screen Matt Dillon faced down another threat to Dodge City while soft harmonica notes drifted through the barn.

Nine days out. Three days back with work waiting. Then saddle up and do it all again.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 2: Riding Double

Probos Station – Ranger Docks
Cycle 2147.42

The two Peregrine IIs sat side by side in their cradles like mismatched partners — Justice-23 in her full white-and-red Ranger livery, Justice-24 still mostly void-black with only the fresh striping added. Magnetic clamps released with twin heavy clunks that carried through both hulls.

John Scott settled into the left seat of Justice-23. Sofia Alvarez was already strapped into Justice-24’s cockpit, visible through the transparent docking tube as she ran her own pre-flight.

Scott keyed the joint channel. “Alvarez, you good over there?”

“Fusion plant green, He3 topped off, railgun and torpedoes cold but ready. Bearcat-24 standing by for master/drone link if we need it.”

“Same here. Probos Control, Rangers 23 and 24 requesting paired departure clearance. Extended patrol, Sector 17 through 22.”

“Rangers 23 and 24, you are cleared. Form up after clearing the cavern. Safe skies. Probos out.”

The outer doors irised wide. Justice-23 eased forward first on maneuvering thrusters, then lit her main drive with a smooth rumble. Seconds later Justice-24 followed, the matte-black hull almost disappearing against the dark until her running lights came up. They slid out of the cavern together, then swung into tight formation as they climbed away from Ceres.

Once clear of station traffic, Scott set a long, efficient burn toward the outer Themis Family Cluster. The two ships flew close enough that from certain angles they looked like a single vessel — one bright, one shadow.

Alvarez’s voice came over the channel, calm and focused. “I’ve got the three welfare-check claims loaded. The one that’s gone dark on reports is still my priority. Sensor sweep running wide.”

“Copy,” Scott replied. “We’ll swing that way first. Nine days is a long haul. We stay tight unless one of us has a solid reason to split.”

For a while they flew in companionable silence, the low hum of the drives the only sound. Scott reached into his jacket, pulled out the old Hohner, and played a slow tune that drifted across the open channel. Alvarez didn’t interrupt.

After the last note faded, Scott spoke. “You feel it yet?”

“The paste?”

“Yeah. OME-9’s doing its job. Felt like I spent the morning swinging a hammer even though I only did the gym circuit.”

Alvarez chuckled softly. “Same. Hips and lower back have that ‘worked hard yesterday’ ache. Not bad. Just different. Like the body’s getting reminded what real loading feels like.”

“Still better than those old Navy birds,” Scott said. “Heat. Light. And we’re not hot-racking with somebody else’s boots in our faces.”

“Much better,” Alvarez agreed. “And this time we’ve got two ships. Two railguns. Two sets of eyes.”

A soft chime sounded on both consoles at once.

Alvarez spoke first. “Passive contact. Bearing two-seven-zero relative, range one-point-four million klicks. Single small cutter, running cold. No transponder.”

Scott’s hand moved to the weapons panel. “Profile?”

“Looks like a prospector or light hauler. Could be legit. Could be trying to stay invisible.”

Scott eased Justice-23’s throttle up another notch. Justice-24 matched perfectly, the pair accelerating together. “Let’s close a little. Nice and easy. See if they light up when they catch our markings.”

Alvarez brought her railgun to standby. “Bearcat has them tagged on both ships. If they bolt, we can bracket them.”

The two Peregrines slid forward in perfect formation, bright and black against the endless field of rocks and stars. Out ahead, the lone cutter continued on its course, unaware — or pretending to be unaware — that the Law had just started its longest ride yet, and this time it was riding double.

Scott spoke quietly into his private log, voice low.

“Deputy Ranger John Scott, Badge MDR0023. First day of extended paired patrol with Alvarez in 24. Already got a cold contact. Another beautiful day in the rocks.”

He slipped the harmonica back into his pocket and rested his hand near the trigger.

“Time to go to work.”

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 3: Cold Contact

Themis Family Cluster – Outer Main Belt
Cycle 2147.43

The two Peregrines closed steadily on the dark cutter. Justice-23 held the high position, bright markings catching what little light reached this far out. Justice-24 slid low and to starboard, the void-black hull making her almost invisible against the starfield until her running lights pulsed once.

Scott keyed the wide-band channel, voice carrying that old Western marshal steel.

“Unidentified vessel, this is Deputy Ranger John Scott aboard Justice-23. You are running without transponder in a registered patrol sector. Identify yourself and state your business. Over.”

Thirty seconds of silence.

Alvarez’s voice came over the private link. “No response. Thermal signature is weak — like they’re trying to bleed heat. Life support is on, but minimal. I’m reading one, maybe two warm bodies.”

Scott tightened his grip on the stick. “Try again on the emergency band.”

He switched channels. “Unidentified cutter, this is MFCR Ranger 23. You have ten seconds to respond or we will treat this as a possible piracy or distress situation and close for boarding. Over.”

A crackling reply finally came, rough and strained.

“Ranger… this is the Lucky Penny. We’re… we’re having trouble. Beacon’s out. Drive’s limping. Don’t shoot.”

Scott and Alvarez exchanged a quick glance across the formation link.

“Lucky Penny, copy. Stand down all weapons and prepare for inspection. We’re coming alongside. Do not attempt to maneuver. Over.”

The cutter didn’t run. It coasted, nose slightly down, like a wounded animal trying to look smaller.

Scott brought Justice-23 in close while Alvarez kept Justice-24 in overwatch position, railgun tracking the cutter’s drive section. The two ships moved in perfect sync — one bright, one shadow — the way they’d trained.

Scott suited up in the small ready compartment while Alvarez monitored from 24.

“Bearcat, keep a lock on that cutter. Any sudden move and you light it up with warning shots only.”

“Understood, Ranger Scott. Human-in-the-loop maintained.”

The grapples extended with a soft metallic thud. Scott cycled through the airlock and crossed the short distance on his suit jets, magnetic boots clanging onto the cutter’s hull. The outer hatch was already cracked open a few inches.

He drew his sidearm and stepped inside.

The interior was dim, lit only by emergency strips. A single man in a patched pressure suit sat slumped in the pilot’s seat, one arm cradled against his chest. Blood had frozen in streaks across the console.

“Easy now,” Scott said, voice calm through the suit speaker. “Ranger on board. Where’s your partner?”

The man’s head jerked up. He was older, face lined and pale. “Took off in the skiff two cycles ago. Said he was going for help. Never came back. Beacon died when we got hit.”

“Hit by what?”

The man swallowed. “Three cutters. Came in dark. No transponders. Said the claim on Kern-519 was forfeit. Fired when I told ’em to shove off. I got lucky — one round took out my drive instead of me.”

Scott’s jaw tightened. Kern-519. That was one of the claims Alvarez had flagged.

He keyed the suit comm. “Alvarez, we’ve got a survivor. Claim jumper attack on Kern-519. Drive’s shot. He’s alone.”

Alvarez’s reply was immediate and cold. “Copy. I’m pulling the claim registry now. That one went dark on reports eleven days ago — right after Helios filed a lowball purchase offer.”

Scott helped the injured man to his feet. “Name?”

“Call me Teller. Just Teller.”

“All right, Teller. We’re going to get you stabilized and tow this bird back toward Probos. But first you’re going to tell us everything you remember about those three cutters.”

Teller nodded weakly. “They had corporate markings under the paint. Red star on the tail of the lead one. Tried to scrub it, but you could still see it if the light hit right.”

Scott felt the familiar cold weight settle in his gut.

He helped Teller across to Justice-23’s airlock while Alvarez maneuvered Justice-24 into position to take the tow. The two ships worked in seamless coordination, one providing cover, the other handling the delicate work.

Once Teller was secured in the small med bay and the cutter was grappled, Scott returned to the cockpit of 23. He slid into the seat and looked out at the black hull of Justice-24 holding station just off his wing.

Alvarez’s voice came over the channel, quiet but steady.

“Red Star Consortium. Same shadow that’s been buying up distressed claims.”

Scott stared at the endless field of rocks ahead.

“Looks like the shadow fleet just got real.”

He reached for the harmonica out of habit, then stopped. Instead he keyed the joint log.

“Deputy Ranger John Scott. Recovered survivor from the Lucky Penny. Confirmed armed claim-jumping with corporate ties. Heading to Kern-519 to check the claim. Another beautiful day in the rocks.”

He set course for the dark claim and advanced the throttle. Justice-24 matched him perfectly.

The long patrol had only just begun.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 4: Kern-519

Themis Family Cluster – Claim Kern-519
Cycle 2147.47

The two Peregrines dropped out of cruise together, railguns tracking as the small carbonaceous asteroid filled the forward viewports. Kern-519 was nothing special — just another dark rock in the outer belt, maybe three kilometers across, with a single pressurized dome and a handful of mining rigs spidered across its surface.

Justice-23 took the lead while Justice-24 slid into overwatch, the void-black hull nearly invisible until its running lights pulsed once.

Scott keyed the comm. “Alvarez, anything on passive?”

“Three faint thermal blooms on the far side, but they’re cold now. Looks like they bugged out in a hurry. I’m also picking up residual drive signatures — same profile as the ones that hit the Lucky Penny.”

Scott glanced back at the small med bay where Teller was strapped in, still pale but conscious. “You hear that, Teller? Your friends left tracks.”

Teller managed a weak nod. “Told you they had that red star under the paint.”

Scott brought Justice-23 in close to the dome. The outer airlock was breached — scorched and forced open. No lights showed inside except emergency strips.

“Alvarez, I’m going in. Keep 24 hot and watch those thermal blooms. If anything moves, you light it up.”

“Copy. Bearcat has overwatch. Human-in-the-loop.”

Scott suited up again, checked his sidearm and stun baton, then crossed to the dome. The hatch cycled with a reluctant hiss. Inside, the air was thin and cold. The main hab was trashed — consoles smashed, storage lockers ripped open, and a thin layer of regolith dust coating everything.

He moved carefully through the wreckage. In the back sleeping compartment he found the original claim holder.

The man was still in his bunk, a single precise hole burned through his chest. No signs of struggle. Execution style.

Scott keyed the suit comm, voice flat. “Alvarez… we’ve got a body. Claim owner’s dead. Looks like they made an example of him.”

There was a short pause before Alvarez answered. “I’m seeing the same pattern on the assay logs. Production numbers were spiked artificially high for the last three weeks, then cratered overnight. Classic salting in reverse — make the claim look valuable, then tank it so Helios can buy cheap after the owner’s gone.”

Scott stood over the body for a long moment. “They’re not just jumping claims anymore. They’re killing for them.”

He searched the room quickly and found a data slate half-hidden under the bunk. It was still powered. He pocketed it and headed back to the airlock.

Outside, Justice-24 held perfect station, railgun trained on the far side of the asteroid where the residual heat signatures lingered.

Scott crossed back to 23 and climbed into the cockpit. He slotted the data slate into the reader. Bearcat began pulling the files.

Alvarez’s voice came over the channel again, quieter this time. “Scott… those three thermal blooms just lit up again. They’re moving. Heading deeper into the cluster, but slow. Like they’re waiting to see if anyone follows.”

Scott’s hand rested on the throttle. The ache from the latest Calsarite dose was still there in his hips and lower back, a dull reminder that the long patrol was already taking its toll. He ignored it.

“Teller was right about the red star,” he said. “And if they’re still close, they might not know we’ve got two ships yet.”

He looked across the formation at the matte-black silhouette of Justice-24.

“We came out here to push the safe zone. Looks like we found the edge of it.”

Scott advanced the throttle. Justice-23 eased forward. Justice-24 matched her instantly, the pair sliding away from the dead claim in perfect formation.

“Alvarez,” Scott said, voice low and steady, “let’s go find out if those bastards are still feeling lucky.”

He reached for the harmonica out of habit, then stopped. Instead he spoke into the joint log, the words clipped and cold.

“Deputy Ranger John Scott. Kern-519 claim secured. Owner murdered. Evidence points to Red Star shadow cutters. In pursuit. Another beautiful day in the rocks.”

The two ships accelerated together into the dark, one bright and one shadow, hunting the men who had already started killing for the Belt.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 5: Closing the Net

Themis Family Cluster – Outer Main Belt
Cycle 2147.51

The three dark cutters had been running for nearly two hours when they finally realized they weren’t alone.

Justice-23 held the high sun position, bright white-and-red markings making her impossible to miss. Justice-24 ghosted low and to port, her void-black hull swallowing what little light reached this far out. From the cutters’ perspective, it must have looked like only one Ranger ship was closing on them.

Until Alvarez spoke.

“Scott, they just lit their drives hard. All three are splitting — one high, two low. They’re trying to bracket us.”

Scott’s mouth curved into a thin, dangerous smile. “Then they still think there’s only one of us. Let’s keep it that way for another thirty seconds.”

He advanced the throttle on Justice-23, deliberately making his approach loud and obvious. The bright ship surged forward like a marshal riding straight down the main street.

Alvarez kept Justice-24 silent and dark, sliding into a flanking vector.

“Bearcat-24, predictive intercept on the two low cutters. Non-lethal on drives only unless they fire first.”

“Understood. Human-in-the-loop maintained.”

The lead cutter — the one with the faint red star still visible under sloppy paint — suddenly opened fire. A laser burst lanced across Justice-23’s forward shields.

Scott didn’t flinch. “Wrong answer.”

He rolled hard and returned fire with the spinal railgun. The first round punched through the cutter’s main drive in a brilliant flash of vaporized metal. The second tore into its weapons mount.

“Alvarez — now.”

Justice-24 materialized out of the black like a ghost. Two precise railgun bursts crippled the drive sections of the remaining two cutters before they could fully react. Both ships went dark, coasting on momentum.

Scott brought Justice-23 in close while Alvarez held overwatch from above.

“Unidentified cutters, this is Deputy Ranger John Scott. You are under arrest for armed claim-jumping, murder, and firing on a Ranger vessel. Power down and prepare to be boarded. Any further resistance and we disable life support. Over.”

One of the cutters transmitted immediately. The other stayed silent.

A rough voice came over the channel, angry and scared. “You’re alone out here, Ranger. Three of us. You sure you want to push this?”

Scott laughed once, short and cold. “I’m not alone. And you just fired on a Ranger ship. Under the code that makes you pirates. Stand down or we finish this the hard way.”

The second cutter’s drive flared as it tried to run. Alvarez didn’t hesitate.

“Bearcat — warning shot across its bow. Non-lethal.”

A single railgun round flashed in front of the fleeing cutter, close enough to vaporize a section of hull plating. The ship immediately powered down.

Scott exhaled. “Nice shooting.”

“Thank the Bearcat,” Alvarez replied. “I just told it what I wanted.”

He suited up again while Alvarez kept both cutters covered. This time he boarded the lead ship — the one with the red star.

The crew was waiting sullenly outside the airlock, hands raised. The leader was a hard-eyed man with a corporate tattoo half-hidden under his collar. One arm was badly burned from the railgun hit.

“Ship IDs and personal IDs,” Scott ordered, voice flat. “Now. You’re all under arrest for piracy and the murder of the Kern-519 claim holder.”

The leader spat blood onto the deck. “You’re alone out here, Ranger. Three of us. One of you.”

Scott smiled thinly and tapped the badge on his chest.

“I’m alone. But my partner isn’t. And firing on her is the same as firing on me.” He glanced toward the black silhouette of Justice-24 holding station above them. “You really want to test that today?”

The leader stared at the dark ship for a long second, then cursed and transmitted the required data.

Scott logged everything, then escorted the prisoners back toward the ships under Justice-23’s guns. Alvarez’s voice came over the private channel as he crossed the gap.

“I pulled the comm logs off their ship while you were boarding. They were heading for another claim — Vesta-47. Same pattern. Helios filed a purchase offer there three days ago.”

Scott paused at the airlock of 23, looking out at the two crippled cutters and the endless dark rocks beyond.

“They’re not stopping,” he said quietly.

“No,” Alvarez answered. “But neither are we.”

Scott secured the prisoners and slid back into the cockpit. He looked across at Justice-24, then spoke into the joint log, voice low and steady.

“Deputy Ranger John Scott. Three shadow cutters disabled and crews in custody. Evidence confirms Red Star Consortium involvement. Next target appears to be Vesta-47. Another beautiful day in the rocks.”

He set course for the new claim and advanced the throttle. Justice-24 matched him without a word.

The long patrol was only getting longer.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 6: Vesta-47

Themis Family Cluster – Claim Vesta-47
Cycle 2147.58

The two Peregrines dropped out of cruise in perfect formation above the small asteroid. Vesta-47 was larger than Kern-519 — nearly five kilometers across — with a proper family dome and two working mining rigs. From a distance it looked peaceful.

Up close, it was anything but.

Two unmarked cutters were already on the surface, one with its outer airlock forced. A third ship hovered nearby, weapons hot. Scott didn’t need Alvarez to tell him what was happening.

“Alvarez, we’ve got company.”

“I see them,” she replied calmly. “Same profile as the ones we took at Kern-519. Lead ship has that sloppy red star paint job again.”

Scott brought Justice-23 in fast and visible, while Justice-24 ghosted in from the opposite side. The moment the shadow fleet cutters spotted the bright Ranger markings, one of them tried to run.

Scott didn’t give them the chance.

“Unidentified vessels at Vesta-47, this is Deputy Ranger John Scott. You are in violation of registered claim protocols and have breached a civilian dome. Power down immediately or we will disable your ships. This is your only warning.”

The lead cutter spun and opened fire.

Scott rolled hard. “Wrong move.”

Justice-23’s railgun answered with two precise shots. The first crippled the cutter’s drive. The second tore through its weapons array. Justice-24 appeared out of nowhere and delivered a third disabling burst to the second cutter before it could maneuver.

The third ship tried to flee. Alvarez’s voice was ice-cold over the channel.

“Bearcat-24, intercept. Non-lethal on the drive.”

A single railgun round flashed across the fleeing ship’s bow, close enough to peel hull plating. It immediately powered down.

Scott brought Justice-23 down near the breached dome while Alvarez kept overwatch on the three disabled cutters. He suited up fast and crossed to the family dome.

Inside, he found chaos.

A man and woman were barricaded in the main hab with two teenagers. The father had a bruised face and a shotgun in shaking hands. The mother clutched a pistol. Both looked exhausted and terrified.

“Rangers,” Scott said, voice steady. “You’re safe now. Stand down.”

The father lowered the shotgun slowly. “They came in dark… said the claim was forfeit. Said we had to sell or they’d take it by force. We’ve been out here four years…”

Scott helped them secure the dome while Alvarez coordinated the prisoners from orbit. Once the family was safe, he returned to Justice-23.

Alvarez’s voice came over the private channel as he climbed back into the cockpit.

“I pulled the financials off the lead cutter. Same pattern as Kern-519 — diluted assays, fake production spikes, then a lowball offer from a Helios subsidiary. These people were next on the list.”

Scott looked out at the three crippled cutters and the family dome below.

“They’re not just buying distressed claims,” he said quietly. “They’re creating distressed claims.”

Alvarez was silent for a moment. “Scott… the comm logs show they were coordinating with at least two more ships. This wasn’t a small crew. They’re running a fleet.”

Scott leaned back in his seat, the familiar ache from the latest Calsarite dose settling into his hips and lower back. He ignored it.

He keyed the joint log, voice low but steady.

“Deputy Ranger John Scott. Vesta-47 secured. Three more shadow cutters disabled. Evidence confirms coordinated Helios operation using Red Star muscle. Family safe. We’re holding prisoners and heading back toward Probos with the evidence package. Another beautiful day in the rocks.”

He looked across at the dark silhouette of Justice-24 holding station above the claim.

“Alvarez,” he said, “we need to get this intel back to Captain Ramirez. This is bigger than we thought.”

“Agreed,” she replied. “But we’re not done yet. There are still two more ships out there somewhere.”

Scott set a course back toward the inner belt, Justice-24 falling in beside him without a word.

The long patrol had teeth now.

And the Law was riding double.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 7: Bigger Game

En Route to Probos Station
Cycle 2147.66

The two Peregrines flew side by side through the dark. Justice-23 carried the prisoners in her small holding compartment while Justice-24 held tight formation off her starboard side.

Scott sat in the cockpit, jaw tight. The ache from the latest dose of Calsarite had settled deep into his hips and lower back, and it was making everything feel sharper than it should. The low hum of the drive was getting on his nerves. Even the steady green glow of the console lights felt too bright.

Alvarez’s voice came over the private channel. “I’ve been going through the data slates we pulled off the cutters. These weren’t random crews. They were working in coordinated cells. Same pay structure, same comm protocols…”

Scott cut her off, more abruptly than he meant to. “Yeah, I got that part already. How big is this thing?”

There was a short pause on the other end.

Alvarez answered calmly. “Big enough that they were expecting to lose ships and keep operating. One of the logs mentioned a main fleet rendezvous point in the outer belt. They’re not just hitting claims anymore. They’re securing territory.”

Scott shifted in his seat, wincing as the movement pulled at the sore spots in his back. “Territory for what?”

“That’s the part that worries me,” Alvarez said. “They’re clearing people out. Making examples. This feels like the start of something bigger.”

From the holding compartment, a voice called out. The leader from the first group they’d taken was awake again.

Scott stood up, already irritated. He walked back to the compartment and stopped in front of the man.

“You got something to say or are you just gonna keep running your mouth?”

The prisoner looked up at him, smirking despite the bruises. “You think you stopped anything? We’re just the front edge. There’s more coming. A lot more.”

Scott stared at him for a second too long. The ache in his back was making it hard to keep his temper in check.

“Keep talking,” he said, voice low.

The man gave a bitter laugh. “Helios doesn’t care about one Ranger and his shadow partner. They’ve got money and ships. You take down one cell, another one moves in. The Belt’s too big for you to hold.”

Scott felt a flash of real anger. He stepped closer. “You sound real confident for a man in cuffs on a Ranger ship.”

The prisoner looked away.

Scott walked back to the cockpit, jaw clenched. He dropped into his seat harder than necessary.

Alvarez spoke again, her tone careful. “You alright over there?”

“I’m fine,” Scott said, a little too quickly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Just tired of listening to that bastard act like we’re wasting our time.”

There was another short silence.

“You’ve been pushing the Calsarite pretty hard,” Alvarez said quietly. “Doc said the calcium load can make people edgy while the bones are adapting. Especially on long patrols.”

Scott didn’t answer right away. He stared out at the black hull of Justice-24 flying beside him.

After a moment he said, “I’m fine.”

Alvarez didn’t push it. “The prisoner gave us something useful. He mentioned a rendezvous point. If we want to hit them before they scatter, we might need to stay out one more cycle.”

Scott was quiet for a few seconds, the ache in his back still gnawing at him.

“Fine,” he said. “One more cycle. We find that rendezvous, we hit it, then we go home.”

He reached for the harmonica out of habit, then stopped and shoved it back into his pocket without playing.

He keyed the joint log, his voice flatter than usual.

“Deputy Ranger John Scott. Prisoners secured. Evidence points to a larger fleet operation. Changing course to pursue. Another beautiful day in the rocks.”

Justice-24 matched course without a word.

Scott sat back in his seat and tried to ignore the way everything seemed to be getting under his skin.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 8: Adjustments

En Route – Themis Family Cluster
Cycle 2147.69

Scott sat in the cockpit of Justice-23, staring at the sensor display a little too long. The faint signal they’d been tracking kept flickering in and out, and every time it dropped he felt his jaw tighten. The ache in his lower back had spread into a dull throb along his spine, and it was making it hard to focus.

Alvarez’s voice came over the channel, calm as always.

“Still nothing solid on that rendezvous point?”

“No,” Scott said, shorter than he intended. “Signal’s too weak. We’re chasing ghosts out here.”

There was a pause.

A few minutes later, the airlock between the two ships cycled. Alvarez stepped into Justice-23 carrying two sealed mugs. She set one down on the console in front of Scott without asking.

“Hot tea,” she said. “No caffeine. Drink it.”

Scott looked at the mug, then at her. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Alvarez replied evenly. She leaned against the bulkhead. “I spent four years in the Navy on the old Peregrins. Same supplements, same long patrols. I know what high calcium and OME-9 do when your bones are trying to adapt. Makes people cranky. Irritable. Things that normally wouldn’t bother you start getting under your skin and stay there.”

Scott didn’t answer right away. He picked up the mug and took a sip. The warmth helped a little.

Alvarez continued, voice practical. “Cold turkey isn’t safe. But splitting the dose helps — half in the morning, half in the evening. It smooths out the peaks. If it gets really bad, we can drop the dosage a bit, but that’s something we should clear with Doc Rao first.”

Scott gave a short, humorless laugh. “You sound like you’ve got this all figured out.”

“I had to,” Alvarez said. “Fourteen-day patrols in those old birds, sometimes colder than a tomb. You learn what works and what doesn’t. Hot tea without caffeine was one of the simpler things that helped. Keeps you steady without making the jitters worse.”

Scott took another sip and stared out at the dark shape of Justice-24 holding station beside them.

“I don’t like feeling like this,” he admitted quietly. “Like every little thing is rubbing me raw.”

“I know,” Alvarez said. “That’s why I’m saying something now. We’ve still got a long way to go on this patrol. Better we manage it than let it manage us.”

Scott nodded once, the movement stiff. He set the mug down and flexed his hands.

“Alright,” he said. “We’ll try splitting the dose starting tomorrow. And I’ll drink the damn tea.”

Alvarez gave him a small, satisfied nod. “Good.”

She turned to head back to her own ship, then paused at the airlock.

“Scott,” she said. “You’re not the only one feeling it. I just hide it better.”

She stepped through and the hatch sealed behind her.

Scott sat alone for a while, the tea cooling in his hands. The signal on the sensor display flickered again. This time he didn’t snap at it. He just watched it, steady and quiet, while the two ships continued their slow hunt through the dark.

He spoke into the joint log, voice lower than usual.

“Deputy Ranger John Scott. Adjusting supplement schedule per Alvarez’s recommendation. Still tracking possible rendezvous point. Another beautiful day in the rocks.”

Outside, Justice-24 flew steady beside him — dark, patient, and watching his back.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 9: The Gathering

Outer Themis Family Cluster
Cycle 2147.74

The signal had finally stabilized.

Justice-23 held position high above the small cluster of asteroids while Justice-24 drifted dark and low, running almost completely silent. From Scott’s cockpit, the thermal signatures on the far side of the rocks looked like nothing more than background noise.

Alvarez’s voice came over the private channel, calm and focused.
“I’m reading at least six ships. Maybe seven. They’re keeping their drives at minimal output, but they’re there. Looks like they’ve set up a temporary base on that larger rock.”

Scott studied the display. His back still ached, but the split dose of Calsarite and the hot tea Alvarez had pushed on him earlier had taken some of the edge off. He wasn’t snapping at every flicker anymore.

“Any sign they know we’re here?” he asked.

“Negative. They’re running cold and quiet. If they had scouts out, we would’ve seen them by now.”

Scott leaned back in his seat and reached for the coil of cactus-fiber rope hanging near the console. He didn’t think about it — he just started working it through his hands. A slow, flat loop spun up, then another, the rope whispering as it moved. It didn’t solve anything, but it gave his mind something to do besides chew on the numbers.

“Six or seven ships,” he said quietly. “That’s more than we’ve hit so far combined.”

“It’s the main cell,” Alvarez replied. “Or at least a big part of it. If we can get solid proof of what they’re planning, we can take this whole thing apart.”

Scott kept the rope moving, the loop rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
“We go in quiet. You stay dark. I’ll make a visible pass on the far side — draw their attention if they have any lookouts. You slip in close and pull whatever data you can.”

“Risky,” Alvarez said. “But it could work.”

Scott gave a short nod. “We’ve been playing it safe for too long. Time to find out what we’re really up against.”

He brought Justice-23 up and began a slow, deliberate arc around the asteroid cluster, making sure the bright white-and-red markings stood out clearly against the black. Below him, Justice-24 vanished into the shadows.

Scott kept the rope spinning in one hand while he flew with the other. The familiar motion helped settle the restless feeling in his chest.

As he swung around the far side of the largest asteroid, new sensor data started coming in.

Alvarez’s voice returned, tighter than before.
“Scott… I’m seeing more than six ships. There’s at least ten down there. And they’re not all cutters. Some of them are bigger. Looks like they’ve got a command ship.”

Scott’s hand paused on the rope for a second, then started moving again.

“Hold position,” he said quietly. “Get what you can and get out. We’re not taking on ten ships with just the two of us.”

He kept flying his visible path, the rope still turning in slow, steady loops while Alvarez worked in the dark below.

For the first time since they left Probos, Scott felt the true weight of what they were facing.

This wasn’t just a few claim jumpers.

This was a fleet.

And they had just found it.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 10: The Weight

Outer Themis Family Cluster
Cycle 2147.76

Justice-24 slid out of the shadows and rejoined Justice-23 high above the asteroid cluster. Scott kept the cactus-fiber rope moving in slow loops while he waited for Alvarez to report.

Her voice came over the channel, steady but serious.

“I got what I could. There are eleven ships total. Two of them are larger than standard cutters — one looks like a converted freighter, probably their command ship. They’ve got supply crates stacked on the surface and what appears to be a temporary docking rig. They’re not just passing through. They’re setting up.”

Scott kept the rope spinning. “Any sign they spotted you?”

“No. I stayed dark the whole time. But Scott… this isn’t a raiding party. This is an operations base. If they’re this organized out here, they’ve got backing. Real backing.”

Scott stared at the distant cluster of rocks. The rope kept moving in his hand, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. It didn’t fix the problem, but it kept the problem from sitting on top of him.

“We can’t take eleven ships,” he said quietly. “Not with just the two of us.”

“I know,” Alvarez replied. “But we can’t just leave either. If we pull back now, they might scatter before we can get more Rangers out here.”

Scott let the loop drop and caught it again. “Captain Ramirez needs to know what we found. We head back, deliver the prisoners and the data, then come out with a bigger force.”

There was a short silence on the line.

“You sure?” Alvarez asked. “We came all this way.”

Scott looked out at Justice-24 holding station beside him. “We came out here to push the safe zone. We found the edge of it. Now we need help to hold it.”

He started the rope moving again.

Alvarez’s voice came back softer. “Alright. We pull back. But we mark this location. If they move before we return, we’ll at least know where they were.”

Scott set a new course away from the cluster. Justice-24 matched him without hesitation.

As the two ships began their long burn back toward the inner belt, Scott kept working the rope in one hand while he flew with the other. The steady motion helped quiet the restless feeling that had been riding him for days.

He spoke into the joint log, voice low.

“Deputy Ranger John Scott. Located major shadow fleet operations base. Eleven ships confirmed, including command vessel. Withdrawing to report and request support. Another beautiful day in the rocks.”

The rope kept turning in his hand as the asteroids fell away behind them. For the first time since they left Probos, Scott felt the full size of what they were up against.

And for the first time, he was willing to admit they might need more than just the two of them to face it.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 11: Shadows in the Cluster

En Route to Probos Station
Cycle 2147.81

The two ships flew together through the thinning asteroid field, heading back toward the inner belt. Justice-23 held the brighter, more visible position while Justice-24 stayed close and dark beside her.

Scott sat in the cockpit with the cactus-fiber rope moving slowly in his hands. The steady rhythm helped keep his thoughts from running in circles. Alvarez had been quiet for a while, working through the data she’d pulled from the shadow fleet base.

Finally, her voice came over the channel.

“The Outer Themis Cluster has always been rough territory,” she said. “Denser rocks, more independent claims, and harder to patrol than the inner belt. That’s why the big companies mostly stayed out of it for years. Too much work for too little return.”

Scott kept the rope turning. “Until now.”

“Until now,” Alvarez agreed. “From what I pulled off their systems, this isn’t just a few raiders working for Helios. They’ve got a real structure. Multiple cells, supply caches, and fallback points. The command ship we saw isn’t just there to look impressive — it’s coordinating operations across several sectors.”

Scott frowned. “How big is this thing?”

“Big enough that they’re treating the outer belt like territory they can claim. They’re not just jumping claims anymore. They’re clearing them out, setting up forward bases, and making sure anyone who resists disappears. The data shows payments going through multiple shell companies, all eventually tracing back to Helios Mining Logistics.”

Scott let the rope drop and caught it again. “So Helios is running a private fleet to take over the outer belt.”

“Looks that way,” Alvarez said. “And they’re not being subtle about it anymore. The attacks on Kern-519 and Vesta-47 weren’t random. They were part of a larger push to force independents out so Helios can buy up the claims cheap once the original owners are gone or dead.”

Scott was quiet for a moment, the rope still moving in his hands.

“We always knew the corporations wanted more of the belt,” he said. “Didn’t think they’d go this far to get it.”

“Neither did I,” Alvarez replied. “But the data doesn’t lie. They’ve got at least three more cells operating. If we don’t hit them soon, they’ll have the outer cluster locked down before anyone on Ceres even notices.”

Scott looked out at the dark hull of Justice-24 flying beside him.

“We’ll report everything when we get back,” he said. “Captain Ramirez will want to see this herself. And we’ll need more than just the two of us next time we come out here.”

Alvarez was quiet for a few seconds.

“You handled it well out there,” she said. “The fleet, the numbers… most people would’ve wanted to push anyway. You didn’t.”

Scott gave a short, tired laugh. “Didn’t feel like much of a choice. Even with the rope, I could still feel the numbers sitting on me.”

He started the loop moving again.

“Doesn’t mean I like running from a fight,” he added.

“We’re not running,” Alvarez said. “We’re getting ready to come back stronger.”

Scott didn’t answer right away. He just kept the rope turning, slow and steady, while the two ships continued their long journey home through the dark.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 12: Markers in the Dark

En Route to Probos Station
Cycle 2147.85

The two ships continued their long burn back toward the inner belt. Scott kept the cactus-fiber rope moving in slow, steady loops while Alvarez worked at her console.

After a while, she spoke.

“You know how asteroid families work in the outer belt,” she said. “They don’t stay neat and sorted. They jumble and mix. You can know the general area where a group is traveling together, but within the hundreds of kilometers that make up that family, it’s hard to know exactly where any specific rock is going to be at any given time.”

Scott nodded, the rope still turning in his hands. “Makes it easy for someone to hide out here.”

“Exactly,” Alvarez said. “And that’s why I’ve been thinking about how we find them again when we come back.”

Scott glanced toward Justice-24. “You got an idea?”

“I do,” she replied. “Putting a beacon directly on the asteroid they’re using would be too obvious. They’d find it and know someone was watching. But if we drop two or three beacons on rocks two or three asteroids away — still inside the same family group — we can get close enough on the next trip. Then with a little careful scanning, we should be able to locate them again without tipping our hand.”

Scott let the loop drop and caught it again. The idea made sense. It was the kind of practical, under-the-radar thinking Alvarez was good at.

“Smart,” he said. “Gives us a way back in without lighting up the whole area.”

“That’s the hope,” Alvarez said. “We mark the family, not the target. When we return with more ships, we’ll already have a search area instead of starting from scratch.”

Scott was quiet for a moment, still working the rope.

“You think they’ll still be there when we come back?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Alvarez admitted. “But if they’re building a real base like it looked, they won’t move everything overnight. They’ve got too much invested now.”

Scott nodded slowly. The rope kept moving in his hand.

“We’ll drop the beacons on the way out of the cluster,” he said. “Quietly. Then we get back to Probos, give Ramirez everything we have, and start planning the next trip.”

Alvarez was quiet for a few seconds before she answered.

“You’re handling this better than I expected,” she said. “The size of what we found… most people would still be fighting the urge to go back in and do something stupid.”

Scott gave a short, tired laugh. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. But the rope helps. And so does knowing we’re not going in blind next time.”

He looked out at the dark shape of Justice-24 flying beside him.

“We came out here to push the safe zone,” he said quietly. “Looks like we’re going to have to push a lot harder than we thought.”

The two ships continued through the dark, carrying the weight of what they had found — and the quiet plan to return.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 13: Seven Days in the Barn

Probos Station – Ceres
Cycle 2147.88

Justice-23 slid into the docking cradle inside Probos Station’s main cavern with a heavy, reassuring clunk. The magnetic clamps locked home, and for the first time in nine days Scott felt the faint vibration of the station’s systems through the hull instead of the constant low hum of his own fusion drive.

He powered down the console and sat for a moment in the sudden quiet, one hand still resting on the cactus-fiber rope coiled beside his seat. His back ached deep in the bones, a dull, persistent throb that the split doses and hot tea had only partly tamed. Nine days of near-weightlessness, followed by the discovery of eleven shadow ships and a command vessel, had left him feeling older than his years.

Alvarez’s voice came over the private channel, steady as always.
“Prisoners are secure. Data package is copied and sealed. You ready to hand this mess over to the grown-ups?”

Scott allowed himself a tired smile. “Born ready, partner. Let’s go tell the Captain we found more trouble than we went looking for.”

They cycled through the airlock together. The transition from micro-g to the outer ring’s spin gravity hit Scott harder than usual. Even at a comfortable 0.68 g, his legs felt heavy, and he had to consciously adjust his stride so he didn’t overshoot the first step onto the rotating deck. Alvarez noticed but didn’t comment. She simply matched his pace, one hand resting lightly on the rosewood cross at her throat.

Station security was already waiting at the docking tube with a pair of armed guards. Scott handed over the three prisoners from the shadow cutters without ceremony. The lead man — the one with the half-hidden corporate tattoo — glared at him as he was led away.

“You’re in over your head, Ranger,” the man muttered. “This is bigger than you know.”

Scott met his eyes. “That’s what they all say. We’ll find out how big it really is.”

The data slates and the full forensic package went straight to a courier drone bound for Captain Ramirez’s office. Alvarez watched it disappear down the corridor, then turned to Scott.

“Seven days,” she said quietly. “Mandatory. No arguments. Doc Rao already logged the order the moment we crossed the outer marker.”

Scott grunted. “I ain’t arguing. I just want a hot shower that doesn’t recycle my own sweat and a bunk that isn’t bolted to a bulkhead.”

Alvarez gave him a small, knowing look. “You want company for the first dose, or are you going to be stubborn about it?”

“I’ll manage.” He touched the brim of an imaginary hat. “Go get some rest yourself, Detective. You earned it.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll check on you tomorrow. Don’t make me come drag you to the inner ring.”

Scott watched her walk away down the curving corridor, then turned toward Deck 4.

---

The hatch to Apartment 17 — what he stubbornly called “the barn” — hissed open on familiar smells: old coffee, recycled air, and the faint metallic tang of the station’s life support. Scott kicked it shut behind him, hung his badge on the hook by the door, and let the weight of the last nine days settle onto his shoulders.

The wall screen was already running Ceres Channel 4’s afternoon Western block. Gunsmoke this time. Matt Dillon walking the dusty streets of Dodge with that measured lawman stride. Scott smiled faintly, cracked open a self-heating coffee pouch, and reached into the med kit for the new silver tube of Calsarite.

He squeezed the thick paste straight into his mouth and made a face that would have done credit to a man swallowing battery acid.

“Wet chalk, old pennies, regret… and now seaweed,” he muttered. “Progress.”

The commercial break hit right on cue.

A cheerful voice rang out over bright, tinny music.
“Thank you for watching Ceres Channel 4! This episode brought to you by the fine makers of Fortified Calsarite — now with added Vitamin K2 and kelp-derived iodine for those who ride the long patrols!”

A cartoon cowboy tipped his hat while a squeeze tube floated beside him, surrounded by floating calcium ions and little dancing bone icons.

“Remember, folks — one tube a day helps keep the doctor away! Calcium, iodine, D3, K2, and OME-9 to trick those bones into thinking you’re still on Earth. Don’t let the Belt turn you brittle. Fortified Calsarite — because even Rangers need a little help staying in the saddle!”

Scott groaned and chased the paste with the rest of the coffee. “Tastes like the ocean threw up in my mouth. Thanks for the upgrade.”

He dropped into the worn recliner he’d bolted to the deck and reached for the coil of cactus-fiber rope hanging on its peg. The familiar weight settled into his hands like an old friend. He started slow — a flat loop, then a vertical one — letting the rope dance around his body in the gentle spin gravity. The motion was automatic, soothing. After eleven shadow ships and the knowledge that they were only one cell of something larger, the steady rhythm of the lariat was the only thing that kept the numbers from chewing on him.

A sharp knock sounded on the hatch.

Before he could answer, it slid open and Dr. Rao stepped inside, tablet in hand and that familiar no-nonsense expression on her face. Alvarez followed a step behind, carrying two sealed mugs.

“Ranger Scott,” Rao said without preamble. “Baseline scans in thirty minutes. Inner ring. Full protocol. And before you start, yes — your last bone-density numbers were down another point-three percent from the previous cycle. The longer tours are cumulative. We’re not playing anymore.”

Scott kept the rope moving, one slow loop after another. “I did the split doses like Alvarez suggested. And the tea.”

“Which is why you’re only down point-three instead of point-eight,” Rao replied. “But it’s still loss. Seven days stand-down. Full medical, full gym rotation in both rings, and you will sleep in the outer ring every night. No exceptions.”

Alvarez set one of the mugs on the small table beside him. “Hot tea. No caffeine. Drink it.”

Scott gave her a sideways look but took the mug. The warmth helped.

Rao studied him for a moment, then her voice softened slightly. “You found something out there, didn’t you? Something bigger than three cutters.”

Scott let the loop drop and caught it again. “Eleven ships. Including what looked like a command vessel. They’re not just jumping claims anymore. They’re building something. Setting up bases. Clearing territory.”

Alvarez spoke quietly from the doorway. “The data package is already with Captain Ramirez. But from what we pulled off their systems before we pulled out… this isn’t one rogue cell. There are at least three more operating in the outer clusters. And the money trail still leads back to Helios.”

Dr. Rao was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded once. “Then you’re going to need to be in better shape than you are right now when you go back out there. Seven days, Scott. Use them.”

She turned to leave, then paused. “And for what it’s worth… good work. Both of you. The Belt’s getting meaner. We need Rangers who can see the pattern and ride into it.”

The hatch hissed shut behind her.

Alvarez stayed a moment longer. She watched Scott work the rope in slow, steady circles.

“You handled it well out there,” she said. “Most people would’ve wanted to push anyway when they saw how many ships there were.”

Scott gave a short, tired laugh. “Didn’t feel like much of a choice. Even with the rope, I could still feel the numbers sitting on me.”

He started the loop moving again.

Alvarez touched her cross. “We’re not done. But we’re not stupid, either. Ramirez will want a full briefing tomorrow. After that… we figure out what comes next.”

Scott nodded. “Tell her I’ll be there. After I finish my show.”

Alvarez smiled faintly. “Tradition first. Then the ledgers.”

She left him alone with Matt Dillon on the screen and the quiet whisper of the cactus-fiber rope turning in his hands.

Seven more days in the barn.

Then the rocks would call again.

And this time, Scott knew, they would be calling with teeth.

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 14: Six Against Eleven

Probos Station – Outer Ring Briefing Room
Cycle 2147.89

Captain Elena Ramirez stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, studying the eleven red icons floating above the display. The largest — the command ship — sat at the center of the makeshift base like it already owned the rock.

Scott sat on her left, still in civilian clothes. Alvarez sat beside him. Madelin was present in person. Shirley had delivered the coffee and stayed, leaning against the back wall like she belonged there. In a station this far out, some conversations happened in front of the people you trusted.

Ramirez finally spoke.
“Six Peregrins. A boarding element. And a prisoner transport. That’s what you’re both saying we need.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Alvarez said. “Six Ranger ships can handle the space fight. The Peregrin was built to hit above its weight class. Against eleven converted civilian and corporate hulls, we win that engagement. The problem is what comes after.”

Scott nodded. “Clearing the two big ships — especially the command vessel — is going to take people on the ground. And once we’ve got them in cuffs, we’re looking at forty, maybe fifty detainees. We can’t process that many with just Rangers and still keep control of the scene.”

Ramirez was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “The Rangers can’t pull six ships for one operation without leaving holes in other sectors. Headquarters won’t approve it. Not without a damn good reason.”

Alvarez leaned forward slightly. “Then we don’t ask for six Ranger ships. We ask for four — maybe five at most — and we bring the Navy in on the rest.”

The room went still.

Shirley raised an eyebrow from the back wall but didn’t interrupt.

Ramirez studied Alvarez. “You’re talking about classifying them as pirates.”

“I am,” Alvarez said. “Armed claim-jumping, murder of a claim holder, firing on a Ranger vessel, and operating an organized fleet that’s clearing territory. Under admiralty law, that qualifies as piracy. If we can get that classification, the Navy can act directly. They already have assets in this region. They don’t have to pull everything from their own patrols.”

Scott shifted in his seat. “And if a judge won’t go full piracy?”

“Then we go the slower route,” Alvarez replied. “A judge swears Navy and Marine personnel in as a posse under Ranger authority. It’s legal. It’s been done before. But it requires the Navy to sign off, and it takes more time and paperwork.”

Ramirez looked at Madelin. “You’ve seen this kind of request before?”

Madelin nodded. “A few times. The Navy doesn’t love being treated like backup for Rangers, but they hate pirates operating in their backyard even more. If we can show this is organized piracy with corporate backing, they’ll be more willing to play ball.”

Ramirez turned back to Scott and Alvarez.
“You’re both thinking like military. Good. Because this is bigger than a Ranger problem now.” She tapped the display, zooming in on the command ship. “Four or five Ranger Peregrins for the space fight. Navy support for boarding the large hulls and handling prisoners. That’s a combined force. It also means we have to share the credit — and the blame — if something goes wrong.”

Scott gave a short, humorless laugh. “I’d rather share the load than explain to families why we couldn’t finish the job because we tried to do it with too few people.”

Alvarez nodded. “The fewer people who know the target and timing, the better. This stays tight until we have assets assigned.”

Ramirez killed the holo.
“I’ll start the request tonight. Four Ranger ships minimum, Navy support for boarding and prisoner transport, and I’ll push for piracy classification first. If that doesn’t fly, we go the posse route.” She looked at both of them. “You’re still on medical stand-down. Use it. When this goes forward, I want you both sharp.”

As the meeting broke up, Shirley collected the empty coffee pouches and paused beside Scott on her way out.

“John,” she said quietly, “you be careful who you let wear the badge on this one. Navy’s got their own way of doing things.”

Scott touched the brim of an imaginary hat. “Yes, ma’am.”

Alvarez walked with him back toward the outer ring. Neither of them spoke for a while.

Finally Alvarez said, “You don’t like the idea of bringing the Navy in.”

“No,” Scott admitted. “But I like the idea of forty or fifty prisoners slipping through our fingers even less. Or getting more Rangers killed because we tried to do this with too few ships.”

Alvarez touched her rosewood cross.
“Sometimes the law needs more than just Rangers to hold the line. Doesn’t mean we stop being the ones who decide how it’s done.”

Scott glanced at her. “You really think Headquarters will go for it?”

“I think they’ll go for whatever lets them sleep at night,” Alvarez said. “And right now, the shadow fleet is big enough that pretending two or three Rangers can handle it isn’t going to work anymore.”

Scott was quiet for a few more steps. Then he said, “Let’s hope the Navy’s better at math than the people flying those eleven ships.”

Alvarez gave him a small, grim smile.
“They will be. Once we explain it to them.”

Mars Ranger Patrol
Book 3: Shadow Fleet
By Curtis A. Neil

Chapter 15: The Weight of Waiting
Probos Station – Outer Ring, Deck 4 (“The Barn”)
Cycle 2147.91

John Scott sat in the worn recliner with the cactus-fiber rope moving slowly through his hands.

The wall screen was running another old Western — The Virginian this time — but he wasn’t really watching. His mind kept drifting back to the eleven red icons on Ramirez’s holographic display and the knowledge that, right now, those ships were still out there. Still digging in. Still thinking they were safe.

The rope turned in a steady, flat loop. Up, around, down. The familiar motion was the only thing keeping the restlessness from chewing through him.

A soft knock sounded on the hatch.

Scott didn’t stop the rope. “It’s open.”

Alvarez stepped inside, carrying two sealed mugs and a small data slate tucked under one arm. She was in off-duty clothes — dark station utilities and a faded Navy sweatshirt — but she still moved like someone who expected trouble at any moment.

“Tea,” she said, setting one mug on the small table beside him. “No caffeine. Doctor’s orders.”

Scott caught the loop and let it settle across his lap. “You checking up on me, Detective?”

“Somebody has to.” She dropped into the second chair — the one he’d never gotten around to bolting down properly — and studied him for a moment. “You’re doing the rope thing again. That’s the third time I’ve seen you pick it up since we got back.”

Scott shrugged. “Keeps my hands busy. Keeps my head from spinning.”

Alvarez took a sip of her own tea and glanced at the screen. “You know, for a man who claims to love the old West, you spend an awful lot of time watching other people live it.”

“Easier than living it myself right now,” Scott admitted. He squeezed another tube of Calsarite into his mouth, made the usual face, and chased it with the tea. “Tastes like regret and low tide. Every damn time.”

Alvarez almost smiled. “My abuela used to say that medicine that tastes good probably isn’t working hard enough. She was wrong about a lot of things, but maybe not that one.”

Scott gave her a sideways look. “You don’t talk about her much.”

“She raised me after my mother died,” Alvarez said simply. “Tough old woman. Cuban, Catholic, and stubborn as a bulkhead. She taught me that protecting people isn’t just about stopping the bad guys when they show up. It’s about making sure they don’t get the chance to hurt anyone else in the first place. That’s why I do the ledger work. The patterns. The money. Because the gun only solves today’s problem.”

Scott was quiet for a moment, the rope resting across his knees.
“Your abuela sounds like she would’ve made a hell of a Ranger.”

“She would’ve hated the hours.” Alvarez set her mug down. “I pulled the latest updates on the request while I was in the inner ring gym. Ramirez pushed it hard. Six Peregrins, a small boarding element, and a dedicated prisoner transport. Headquarters is dragging their feet on the numbers, but they haven’t said no yet.”

Scott started the rope moving again, slower this time. “Six ships. That’s a lot of Rangers we don’t have sitting around.”

“Six purpose-built ships against eleven converted hulls,” Alvarez corrected. “The Peregrins were designed to hit above their weight. The space fight isn’t the problem. Clearing those two big ships and processing forty or fifty detainees… that’s where it gets complicated. That’s why we need the extra assets.”

Scott watched the loop rise and fall. “I hate sitting here while they’re still out there. Feels like we’re giving them time to run or dig in deeper.”

“I know.” Alvarez’s voice was calm, but there was an edge underneath it. “But going back out there half-fixed and short-handed would be worse. You know that. That’s why you didn’t push to go back with just the two of us.”

Scott let the rope drop into his lap and looked at her.
“You’re better at this waiting game than I am.”

“I’ve had more practice,” she said. “Four years in the old Peregrins taught me how to sit still and stay ready at the same time. You spent most of your time solo. Different skill set.”

Scott gave a short laugh. “Yeah. Well. I’m working on it.”

Alvarez stood and picked up her empty mug. She paused at the hatch.

“Scott,” she said. “When we go back out there — and we will go back out there — I need you sharp. Not just because you’re good in a fight. Because you see things I don’t. The cowboy stuff. The way people move when they’re scared or lying. That’s not something you learn from a tactical manual.”

She touched the rosewood cross at her throat.

“Don’t waste the stand-down trying to punish yourself for not being out there. Use it. So when the call comes, we’re both ready.”

Scott looked at her for a long moment, then nodded once.

“Copy that, partner.”

Alvarez gave him a small, satisfied nod and stepped out. The hatch hissed shut behind her.

Scott sat alone in the barn for a while, the rope resting across his lap. On the screen, the Virginian was facing down another threat to the valley. Outside the small viewport, the stars of the Belt turned slowly.

He picked up the rope again and started it moving.

Six ships.
A boarding element.
A prisoner transport.

It was more than two lone Rangers could do on their own.

But it still felt like not enough.

He kept the loop turning, steady and quiet, while the stand-down clock kept ticking in the back of his mind.

Five more days.

Then the rocks would call again.

And this time, the Law was bringing company.

Glossary

Bearcat — The AI system installed in Ranger Peregrin-class ships. Capable of piloting, targeting, and predictive analysis while maintaining human-in-the-loop control.

Calsarite — A daily medicinal paste issued to personnel on long-duration low-gravity patrols. Contains calcium, iodine, Vitamins D3 and K2, magnesium, and the Osteo-Mimic Enzyme (OME-9).

MFCR Rangers — Mars Federation Colonial Rangers. Law enforcement officers responsible for maintaining order and protecting independent claims across the asteroid belt.

OME-9 — Osteo-Mimic Enzyme. The key active ingredient in Calsarite that tricks bones into behaving as though they are under normal Earth gravity.

Peregrin II — The current generation of Ranger patrol ships. Larger, more comfortable, and better armed than the original Navy Peregrins.

Posse — A legal mechanism in which civilian or military personnel can be temporarily sworn in to assist Rangers in enforcing the law.

Probos Station — A forward operating base built inside a large cavern on Ceres. Features counter-rotating habitat rings that provide artificial gravity.

Red Star Consortium — A corporate entity suspected of using proxy forces (including the shadow fleet) to acquire distressed mining claims in the outer belt.

Shadow Fleet — An organized group of unmarked or poorly marked ships conducting claim-jumping, intimidation, and territorial expansion on behalf of corporate interests.

The Barn — John Scott’s personal quarters on Probos Station (Deck 4, Outer Ring). Named for its Western decor and his habit of watching old Earth Westerns there.

Curtis Anthony Neil/Grok 4.0/ LibreOffice. June  10th. 2026 AD.

Artist Copyright June 2026, all rights reserved

Bakersfield, California, USA, North America, Planet Earth (Terra), the third planet from the Sun (Sol), Solar System, Orion Arm, Milky Way Galaxy

Copyright © 2026 by Curtis Anthony Neil
All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Edition – June 2026

Published by Curtis A. Neil
Bakersfield, California, USA

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.