Lost Horizon

by Michelle Hercules

  Being the largest space station in the Star Freedom Alliance, Kansas can house a few ships. There are five small fighters that have been modified for training. They don’t possess any real firepower, as the academy doesn’t want students killing one another by accident. But lack of weaponry is not what makes them useless to me. They don’t have range or the capability to jump into hyperspace. I don’t know how far Mirus is from the station already. I need a mode of transport that will give me the best odds at succeeding.

  I eye the biggest starship in the dock bay—Commander Gulch’s space cruiser. Its silver hull gleams under the soft light. The ship must have been washed recently. The pristine metallic tint is punctuated by the prism-colored stripes that run along its sides. And above that detail, the name of the ship is painted in stark black—Horizon.

  Ignoring the pesky voice telling me this is a mistake of huge proportions, I stride toward the vessel. It’s my luck that it’s docked close to the gate. I won’t have much time when I access the ship’s control panel. Everyone in the operations room will be alerted that Horizon became active. I’ll have only a few minutes to take off before they activate a lockdown.

  Despite being a beauty, Horizon is not the newest model in the fleet. It’s a JT-40 and a few decades old, but it’s one of the fastest cruisers the fleet has ever made. No wonder Commander Gulch has never traded it in for a newer model. I also heard she had it modified, giving the medium-sized ship even more juice. Being that old, it’s the reason the boarding ramp can be unlocked via a keypad code, not by biometric identi print. Since I can’t forget anything, thanks to my eidetic memory, I only had to witness the code being typed in once to have it imprinted in my mind.

  The ramp lowers with a soft air-pressure-release sound. I jump on it before it reaches the floor, pressing the button to close from inside the craft. Toto dashes off ahead, barking as if he were in a playground. The echoes of his tiny mechanic paws hitting the floor mix with the drumming in my ears. I can’t believe I’m about to steal Commander Gulch’s beloved ship.

  No, Dorothy, don’t stress over it. You have to reach Mirus at any cost. Besides, what difference does it make if I end up in prison? Like the commander said, I have an expiration date.

  At the end of the all-white corridor, I find the lift that will take me to the upper deck where the cockpit is. Toto is already there, sniffing around the perimeter as if searching for a treasure. A small smile plays on my lips. Adrian did a terrific job with the robo-dog. If it wasn’t for its metal body and blue-lit eyes, he could easily pass for a real dog.

  Once on the upper deck, it’s a straight line toward the cockpit. The sliding door opens to reveal a wide room with two pilot chairs in front of the control panels. The concave, panoramic glass shield is shut, but it’s not hard to imagine what it would feel like once I’m out there in deep space.

  Complete freedom.

  Once I sit on the chair, the ship becomes an extension of my body. I was born to be a starship pilot. A moment of sadness takes over me. Successful or not, this will be my last flight.

  Shaking my head, I force the gloom out of my system. It’s now or never. My hands fly over the controls, my fingers moving precisely over them. Learning how to operate a JT-40 wasn’t in the academy’s curriculum, but when I came across an old manual, I couldn’t resist devouring it.

  The control panels light up, blue and red lights flashing as a low buzz takes over the silence. Toto barks a few times before jumping on the vacant chair next to mine.

  “So, you want to be a copilot, huh?”

  He barks and wiggles his tail in response.

  With a push of a button, the powerful engine of the cruiser roars. It soon becomes a steady hum, providing a comforting background noise. I begin taxiing the spacecraft out of the dock bay, going through the inner gate as it slides open. I prepare to initiate the unlocking procedure for the outer space gate when the holo-screen crackles to life with an incoming transmission.

  Commander Gulch’s furious face appears. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I’m going after Mirus,” I reply through clenched teeth. At the same time, I type in the code to unlock the gate.

  “You’re out of your mind. If my ship leaves this space station, you’ll spend the rest of your life locked away.”

  Twisting my lips into a sardonic smile, I reply, “Lucky me, my days are numbered.”

  I shut off the holo-screen and prepare to fly. The gate is halfway open.

  “Come on, come on.” My hands tighten around the yoke when, suddenly, the ship goes silent as the engines shut off. “No!”

  In a manic frenzy, I attempt to restart the engine, but the sequence of commands I input isn’t registering. It’s only when a robotic voice announces that the ship’s controls have been disabled that I understand what’s going on. Commander Gulch must have disabled the ship remotely. Damn that woman!

  I jump out of my seat and take off in a mad dash down the hall. I might have a minute, max, until the cruiser is surrounded by Commander Gulch’s men. I forgo the lift, opting for the service stairs instead. My only chance of getting out of here is to override the command from the operations room and restart the ship manually from the power core.

  The little panel is hidden behind coiled tubs and a metal grid. If I hadn’t seen the blueprint for this ship in that old manual, I would never find it. I almost tear the door open as I yank it with too much force. A circuit board with hundreds of wires and chips stare back at me. My eyes quickly scan through the maze of old technology until I find what I’m looking for. With deft fingers, I disconnect the wire responsible for the remote-activated control of the ship. But there’s still the matter that I won’t be able to restart the engine until the system completely reboots. Horizon needs a kick-start. Biting my lower lip, I pray to all the stars that I’m right about what I plan to do. If the wire I’m about to connect to the main motherboard is wrong, I might wipe out the entire cruiser’s system.

  Here goes nothing.

  The wire is in place, and to my relief, the engine throttles awaken once more. When I return to the cockpit, the outer space gate is beginning to shut. They must have done that from the operations room as well. I won’t be able to rewire my way out of that. It takes me a split second to make my decision. Pushing the yoke forward, I take off. The sudden acceleration shoves me back in my seat, and belatedly, I realize I forgot about poor Toto. I hope he’s made out of sturdy metal.

  There’s a loud scratching noise when the side of one of the wings clips the gate, but by a miracle, I make it through.

  My heart is hammering inside my chest as the most exhilarating feeling spreads through my veins like wildfire. Raising my fist in the air, I let out a victorious yell.

  I sober up fast, as my escape from the station is only a small victory. Now, I must find Mirus. The camera that picked up the star-eater’s familiar readings was the one pointing in Tethis’s direction. Putting as much distance as I can from Kansas, I veer Horizon toward the blue-and-purple planet. Toto comes bouncing back into the cockpit to take his place as the honorary copilot again.

  “How are you, buddy?”

  He doesn’t answer me this time. Instead, he curls into a ball and hides his muzzle under his paws.

  “I’m sorry about our rocky takeoff.”

  Pulling my gaze from him, I type in several commands on the control panel while being watchful for any signs of pursuit. Not that any of those fighters could catch up with Horizon, but I wouldn’t put it past Commander Gulch from trying. Most likely, she has already contacted the authorities on New Earth. It’s only a matter of time before they send a patrol cruiser to take me into custody. I hope by the time they reach me, I’ve accomplished what I plan to do.

  I bring the navigation screen up and see in front of me the shadow of a massive body moving at great speed—Mirus. I push the cruiser as fast as it can go without jumping into hyperspace. The sun blazes neon blue against the ship’s hull, but once I adjust t
he coordinates, a limitless curtain of night extends in front of us.

  It’s another thirty minutes before I get a visual of the star-eater. It’s more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined. Mirus is surrounded by a bright nebula, which shines like an oasis in the desert of space.

  “This is it, Toto.”

  My heart is beating like a drum while my brain takes off at the speed of light, going through the list of things I need. Horizon is equipped with space suits and tools for collecting surface materials, but the most important thing I must figure out is how to land on Mirus.

  Suddenly, blaring alarms screech inside the cockpit as the lights on the control panel flash red. The vessel begins to shake, and Toto jumps from his seat to mine. Breathing through my nose and mouth, I will my body to remain calm as I assess the situation. The navigation system is showing an enormous mass straight ahead. It just appeared out of nowhere. Shoving the holographic screen to the side, I focus on what’s in front of Horizon. Where before there was only Mirus and infinite space, a bright gas maelstrom has opened in the star-eater’s path.

  In horror, I watch as the white hole devours Mirus. Not knowing what phenomenon I’m facing, I attempt to change the ship’s course, but the controls won’t respond. It’s already caught in the gravitational pull of the space whirlpool. The interior of the cockpit becomes awfully bright as the cosmic vortex yawns before us. Holding Toto tight, I close my eyes, knowing this is the end.

  4

  Dorothy

  Pressure from all angles keeps my body stuck to the captain’s chair. I couldn’t move a muscle even if I tried. The ship is shaking so terribly; I’m afraid it will come apart in tiny fragments. My jaw is locked tight as I wait for the end. The noise inside the cockpit is deafening, an erratic loud whirring that one can only associate with the sound of approaching death. Suddenly, the shaking ceases, and an eerie quietness descends in the cockpit. Toto whines softly. The silence before the final showdown.

  With a violent lurch, my body is thrown forward at the same time a loud pop echoes in the small chamber. Horizon bursts out of the vortex as a projectile of unwanted food. The panel controls go mad once more, beeping and flashing as the ship’s system goes on overdrive, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I barely have time to process that I survived going through the space vortex when the holo-screen shows we’re on a collision path with Mirus. I can’t see anything for we have entered the star-eater’s gaseous nebula.

  Reaching for the yoke, I yank it upward, not knowing if the maneuver will bring us closer or farther from the being. As I clench my teeth through the exertion of maintaining the cruiser on the current course, a round, glassy shape peeks through the clouds. It could easily be the size of a colony ship.

  “Oh my God. I think it’s one of Mirus’s eyes,” I mumble in awe.

  Whatever it is, it vanishes once more behind the nebula, and it’s another minute before the warning alarm stops blaring. I breathe a sigh of relief, only a moment too soon. Horizon hits an obstacle I couldn’t see, and neither did the ship’s sensors. The impact sends the cruiser spinning out of control, and for a moment, I can’t get to the yoke. Toto is now floating adrift above me. Shit. I’ve lost the gravity simulator. I have to stabilize the ship.

  I wrestle with the yoke, and it takes me a few seconds to regain control of the vessel. But another major problem presents itself. Looming in front of us is a small planet, and unfortunately, whatever hit Horizon has sent the ship zapping toward the alien world. The main monitor is indicating I lost one of the ship’s engines with the impact, and the second engine is at half-capacity. Caught on the planet’s gravitational pull and without thrust power, the cruiser breaches the planet’s atmosphere too fast. Long bands of intense energy emerge from the nose of the ship as the temperature inside the vessel increases. It means the cooling system is also busted.

  A terrifying cracking noise reaches the interior, so I bring up all outside cameras on the holo-screen. The once-silver hull is now a fiery orange color. Multihued flames lick the wings, and in horror, I watch them crumble away in a shower of sparkling fragments of metal and plastic.

  Toto drops to the floor once gravity returns inside Horizon. I spare a fleeting glance in his direction to make sure he’s in one piece before I focus on the control panels and the world beyond the ship’s windshield. We’re coming down fast. I must find a cluster of trees or something equivalent to soften the crash. I have no idea what kind of terrain I’m going to encounter once I clear off the clouds.

  The holo-screen shows me a scan of what lies on the surface. It seems there’s a forest right under us.

  Horizon finally breaks through the clouds, and the most breathtaking landscape comes into view. Clusters of tall trees with a dome-shaped canopy in vivid green, framed by an azure sky, spread before me. The colors are so bright; they almost don’t seem real.

  “We’re definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

  The spacecraft suddenly drops altitude when the second engine finally gives out. Damn it. So much for attempting an emergency landing. The ship is going to crash hard.

  “Hold on tight, Toto. This is going to be a bumpy ride.”

  My statement is ridiculous. The robo-dog can’t grab onto anything, and calling falling out of the sky a bumpy ride is not even blind optimism anymore. It’s plain delusion.

  The vessel rattles as we make contact with the tops of the first trees. The whirring of the control panels and their warning messages mix with the roar of metal crashing. The windshield, which is supposed to withstand an incredible amount of pressure, cracks when a thick tree branch hits it straight on. The landscape becomes a blur of green and brown debris until we hit the ground with a jarring impact. My teeth grind together, and a second later, the copper taste of blood fills my mouth. The pilot’s chair harness is the only thing keeping my body from being thrown about the cockpit as if I were a rag doll.

  Unexpectedly, the trees give way to nothing. Only the blue sky is ahead of us now. A second later, I realize the forest comes to an end at the edge of a cliff, and at the speed Horizon is careening over the ground, it launches into the air, only to drop abruptly in the next moment. The fall seems to last forever, but in reality, it only takes a few seconds for Horizon to crash against something solid with a loud explosion. A dark miasma of smoke, dust, and debris immediately envelops the ship. Whatever Horizon hit, it slowed down its path of destruction until the vessel finally stops.

  Smoke fills the cockpit, giving me almost zero visibility of the state of the chamber.

  “Toto!” I call out before bursting into a coughing fit.

  With shaking hands, I release the seat’s harness. My breathing is erratic, and my pulse is pounding in my ears. With a grunt, I stand on unsteady legs while covering my eyes with the back of my arm. A low whine comes from somewhere on my left.

  “Toto, come here, boy.”

  Extending one arm, I drop into a crouch until my hand finds the small robo-dog’s nose. He jumps into my arm while his metal body is trembling.

  “It’s okay, Toto. We’ll be fine.”

  Uncurling from my crouch, I amble toward what I assume is the cockpit’s exit. My ears are still ringing from all the noise. Right now, the only sounds coming from the corridor ahead are the consecutive pops of circuitry as it fails, followed by the crackle of shorting relays. The haze is not as thick once we leave the cockpit, and I can make out the shapes of torn metal, melted plastic, and broken glass. The mangled state of what was once a pristine ship makes my heart ache. There’s no way I can repair Horizon, which means I can’t get to Mirus and save Adrian. I’ve failed.

  I stop in my tracks when I hear the distinct sound of shouts coming from outside the craft. I jump over the gap on the floor where the stairs to the lower deck used to be. Exiting the ship through the main ramp is impossible now. I can’t get to the room where the space suits are either, but a beam of light pouring through a large crack in the ceiling tells me I don
’t need to worry about this alien planet’s air. If it were poisonous to me, I’d be dead already.

  But there are creatures outside, and I don’t know if they are friendly or not, so I search for one of the storage compartments in the corridor where the laser blasters are kept. A gaping hole in the wall panel reveals the place where the storage unit used to be, but inside, only one small weapon seems to be intact.

  It’s better than nothing.

  Quickly, I retrieve the gun, checking the battery levels. All bars on the LED display are lit. The blaster is fully charged. The shouts become rowdier as they near the ship. A loud shriek cuts through the noise, silencing those other voices and raising the small hairs on the back of my neck. Whatever is responsible for that didn’t sound friendly. But I can’t stay hidden inside a dying ship, so up the ladder toward the top hatch I go.

  Carefully, I stick my head out, doing a quick overall glance of my surroundings. The dark miasma hasn’t dispersed yet, and seeing anything more than a few feet beyond the crash site is impossible. Setting Toto down on the roof of Horizon, I exit the ship, laser blaster at the ready. My ears strain for any noise, but everything is unnaturally quiet now. I don’t like that one bit.

  Watching where I step, I make my descent to the ground. Toto follows me with ease on his four agile legs. A light breeze finally begins to disperse the fog. When it vanishes completely, it reveals a ravaged, gray land. Whatever plant life occupied this field, it has long ago died, leaving a depressing landscape behind. The beautiful forest I saw before the crash is beyond my eyesight now. The surrealistic blue sky is now partially hidden behind dark, angry clouds.

  With my heart pounding fiercely inside my chest, I leave Horizon’s shadow, circling around its mangled front to peer at what lies on the other side. My jaw slackens when I spot an armored vehicle in the shape of a spider and as wide as a tank, attempting to stand on its multiple mechanical legs. They are bent and can’t withstand the weight of the vehicle’s body, which has also suffered substantial damage.