by Drew Avera
“Yes, sir?”
“Have the men grab the body as well. We might be able to reanimate him and score a small profit.” He looked inside the small room at the bloodied, pale gray man. I may as well find some way to make money to rebuild.
“I’ll grab him on my way out if that is all right with you, sir.”
“Very well, you can help get the ship prepared.”
“Roger that,” Kawal replied before the com went silent. Crase could hear the panic in the man’s voice as it raised in pitch.
Some men aren’t cut out for this.
Crase continued his path through the corridor when a ground-rippling explosion shoved him backwards and slammed his head into the floor.
“Dammit. Kawal!”
“Yes, sir?” Kawal replied with heavy breathing.
“The attack is drawing closer. Radio the men and have them find a closer means to escape with my stock. The Replicade is too far for them. You and I will take it with the deceased. Copy?” He rose to his feet and dusted himself off, cussing under his breath.
“Yes, sir,” Kawal replied before cutting off his com to contact the men on another channel.
Crase limped forward, realizing his was bleeding from his leg where a piece of shrapnel protruded from his thigh. “Figures,” he groaned as he gripped the shrapnel and tore it from his leg. He winced, but otherwise made no sound. Even alone, he refused to display weakness.
“Sir, I’m unable to get into contact with the men,” Kawal said.
“Why?”
“I’ve filtered through the surveillance of the holding area and every camera is offline. I’m afraid that last blast may have caused the structure to collapse.”
Crase swallowed hard, biting back a flurry of swears that would do nothing to help his cause. “If that’s the case, then they are gone to us. Grab the deceased and let’s get to the ship now”
“Yes, sir,” Kawal replied, sounding relieved. “I’m on my way.”
We’re running out of time, Crase thought, shoving forward and discovering a gaping hole in the corridor ahead. Or maybe we’re too late.
5
Deis
It took all his strength to drag Malikea’s unconscious body to the massive ship. The cargo bay door hung open, welcoming at its perch as the death from above rained onto his home world. Time, the betrayer, threatened to see him destroyed like the other ships and machines fighting the demons in the sky. He supposed he should be happy that foreigners would fight to protect a world in which they did not belong, but their presence was a beacon that Lechushe’ was easily defeated. Perhaps they are to blame, Deis thought as he pulled Malikea up the cargo ramp. He gently dropped the man’s arms in order to search for a means to get the ship off the ground.
“Where are the controls for this ship?”
He turned his head side to side, his eyes wide as flames lapped in the distance, scorching the planet and sending the inhabitants to the gods in ashes. He saw the panel for the cargo bay door and pressed it first, watching in relief as the door cycled closed, cutting off the hellish scene, but he knew they were not yet safe.
“Please?” He pleaded under his breath. “Find something to make this ship take off.” Sweat poured down his face, and he wiped away the stinging of his eyes. Having been on a ship only a few times for his and Malikea’s recent travels, he had never seen the inside of a warship, much less the controls for one. Dissatisfied with the options before him, he ran from the cargo bay and down a passageway before finding a ladder leading to another level. “Why not?” he asked himself as he darted up the steps, pulling himself upward with the handrails as he took two steps at a time. The second level opened to another passageway, but at the far end he saw what he thought was the bridge.
Deis sprinted towards it, his hands gliding against the bulkhead to help steady himself when his shaky legs threatened to defy him. Once inside the bridge, the harsh, blue glow of monitors blinded him. Still, he reached out to the first one and manipulated the controls, struggling to interpret what each screen displayed. He set everything to the on position, listening as the ship powered up, the hum of electricity now merging with the churn of thrusters as they ignited. He did not know what he was doing, but he felt led to continue in his efforts. If nothing else, it was all he could do before annihilation found him.
“Come on!” Deis shouted as the rumbling of the thrusters caused the ship to shake, but he could not see if it had taken off. He scrolled his fingers across the next console and illuminated it, setting each control as far into the on position as he assumed it could go. The lights dimmed, and the screens turned red as the ship began to ascend. He watched the monitor, his hands on the controls. The quivering of the ship while it scorched the ground beneath it finally subsided as it slowly rose from its dock, climbing the horizon and reached frantically for the stars in the distance.
Deis could not see beneath or behind them, to the places where destruction lie and death awaited. He could only pray they would escape and survive. His heart pounded, and his vision blurred. “Please get us out of here,” he whispered, pulling back on the controls and feeling the blood rush from his face as the ship shifted in pitch and climbed higher, faster. The increase in force made it difficult for him to stand, to hold on to the controls. Soon, he found himself slipping backwards, losing his handhold on the controls as he fell towards the looming bulkhead. He hit it, feeling the wind knocked out of him as his vision faded. He watched the monitor as intently as he could manage, seeing the glowing, burning skies turn pitch black as the ship escaped Lechushe’s gravitational pull. The tension in his body loosened, but the force of the ship on his body still held him in place.
He let out a sigh of relief, hoping the worse of it was over, but not allowing himself to dwell on it. For all I know, death is following me. The higher the ship climbed away from Lechushe’s gravity well, the more the weight on his body eased, allowing him to move. He dragged himself closer to the console, pulling on the angle-iron attached to the bulkhead to keep himself moving forward. The small lips of the steel dug into his fingers, feeling as if it was cutting into his skin, but he persisted, straining his muscles as, although exhausted, he kept climbing.
Once near the console, Deis reached out and pulled back what he hoped was the throttle lever. The ship suddenly decreased in thrust and Deis floated above the console, holding onto the edge to keep from drifting away. “Too much” he hissed, clawing for the lever to bump it up little by little until thrust was restored and the weightlessness went away. It took three attempts to satisfy him, but an alarm sounded that stomped out any relief rising in his chest.
“What the hell?” Deis scrolled his fingers across the screen trying to make out what caused the alarm. The monitors outlined in red showed no indication of an incoming threat, but a flicker of light on the monitor displaying what was in front of the ship caught his attention. He adjusted the image instinctively, zooming in to see a fragment of space debris which looked like the remains of a small ship drifting lifelessly in their direction. Deis adjusted the controls, trying to not pull back too hard and cause the ship to pitch wildly as it did the first time. The slight nudging of the controls did not satisfy the proximity alarm, though. He tried again, this time pulling back and to the right, hoping that it pulled him further from the monstrous ship decimating his world.
The ship banked, increasing the g-forces enough to be noticeable, but not unpleasant.
“What’s happening?” Malikea asked as he stepped onto the bridge. Deis looked behind him to his husband, whose eyes were wide with fear and anxiety.
“We escaped,” he said, fidgeting with the controls until the alarm grew silent, though his heart pounding wildly in his chest made it harder to hear his husband step closer.
“You didn’t leave me behind,” Malikea said, his voice soft, but Deis could not tell if it was intentional or still the thrum of his heart beating.
“I would never leave you behind,” Deis said, reaching a
hand to Malikea who took it, grasping it tightly. “But we are still in danger. I don’t know how to fly this ship and it seems that there’s no way to be sure we will not crash into something without paying close attention to the monitors.”
“Perhaps as we drift further from home then the hazards will decrease,” Malikea suggested.
“Perhaps, but I’m not willing to risk that. We barely made it off our world before the ship nearly collided with another object.”
“I suppose that’s why I found myself slammed against the bulkhead one moment and floating the next. How bad is it?” Malikea asked.
“How bad is what?”
“Our home?”
Deis shrugged. “I don’t know, I can’t see it from our position.”
Malikea sighed next to him, a shaky hand hovering over the console. “May I try to look?”
Deis nodded sadly, not wanting to know the worst he knew he would see in his heart. After what little he saw before getting on the ship, he knew he would see the destruction of his world and he could not bear it.
6
Crase
Crase climbed over the rubble and looked to the sky. Above, the silhouette of the Greshian ship appeared through the haze of smoke. In the distance he saw the death beam striking Lechushe’s surface, ripping the planet to pieces at its core. "These assholes sure are efficient," he said under his breath.
"Sir?" Kawal said into the com.
"What?"
"I have the prisoner, but he is not deceased. The heart rate monitor did not detect his faint pulse."
Crase lifted an eyebrow, surprised at the resiliency of the Lechun man. "Very well. Bring him and we shall place him in a recovery pod."
"Yes, sir."
Crase stood overlooking the magnificent art of Greshian warfare. He had seen firsthand their power over the years, and each time he learned to respect it more, noting how much the Empire grew in efficiency and malice. The Lechuns were peaceful. The only standing army who would stand against the Empire were the ones who did not belong on the world. Either Lechushe’ refused to bow, or it is being punished for harboring rebel militia. I suppose it doesn't matter now. This world is as dead as yesterday.
From the corner of his eye, Crase saw the thrusters on the Replicade ignite. "What the hell?" The ship wobbled on its perch under the strain of the thrusters fighting to break free of its hold. "Kawal, who the fuck is on my ship?"
"There's no one but us, sir," he responded.
Crase clinched his fists and walked towards the ship. "If that was true, then why are the thrusters online and the ship trying to take off while the perch is engaged?"
"I... I'm not sure."
"Whoever it is will destroy my ship doing this. Patch me into the override."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that with my mobile com."
Fuck. "Can you disengage the perch?"
"I can.” Kawal stepped behind Crase, carrying the unconscious prisoner on his shoulders. "But that will allow them to get away. Are you sure you want to do that?"
"That ship is my investment. Once I restore it I will have a weapon capable of fighting anything other than a Greshian Planet Killer. Of course, I'm sure," he spat, angered over Kawal's insolence.
"Yes, sir," Kawal said, thumbing over the mobile com attached to his wrist as he balanced the man on his shoulders. "Perch disengaged."
Crase watched as the pillars clamping the Replicade to the dock released, allowing the ship to lift off amidst a cloud of dust and debris. The thrusters kicked stones and other sediment into their direction, causing them to cover their faces with their arms.
"Let's get to the transport," Crase ordered, his voice low and angry.
Kawal followed, silent except for his heavy breathing as they walked quickly over the rugged terrain. The transport sat on an open landing area not far away from the Replicade, but the transport was a fraction of the size and lacked certain amenities to allow for long stretches of time in the dark. "I have the engines on standby, sir."
"Good. As soon as we are onboard, I want you to put him on the medical cart and get us out of here."
"Where do you have in mind?"
"Anywhere that fucking Greshian ship isn't," Crase growled. His anger stemmed from the audacity someone had to steal from him more than the fact the planet he stood on was minutes from tearing apart.
"Yes, sir."
Crase jogged up the small ramp leading into the transport and immediately closed the door as Kawal entered, out I breath. He moved to the cramped cockpit and brought up the monitors as Kawal frantically strapped the prisoner onto the medical cart.
"He's secure," Kawal said, taking his seat next to Crase and grabbing the controls. Both men operated in silence to prepare the transport for launch, drawing from memory after several missions together over the last two years that Kawal had worked for Crase. "We're clear, sir."
"Then go," Crase ordered, not looking at the man, but keeping his eyes on the monitor to keep track of the death beam edging closer to them. The light transport lifted off the deck and vibrated as the engines fought gravity for their escape. They flew in silence as Lechushe’ died, its core erupting in a fiery blaze, decimating all life not climbing out of its atmosphere.
"It looks like we're going to make it."
"Less talking and more flying," Crase said.
"Yes, sir."
The transport sped past the growing debris cloud forming around Lechushe’. The sensor arrays picked up on the objects within proximity of them, but there was too much to realistically avoid hitting some of it. Instead, Crase gritted his teeth and gripped his shoulder harnesses as the small ship tore through the cloud, shaking and knocking loudly.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid this ship is not going to survive our evacuation," Kawal said. His voice was high and his face covered in sweat.
"She'll make it," Crase replied. "I had her hull reinforced during the overhaul." I just hope it was enough.
"Yes, sir."
The tiny ship hit turbulence, jostling madly before pushing through the outer atmosphere of the crippled planet. Crase turned the sensor array towards Lechushe’ to reveal what was left of the world they left behind. He sucked in a deep breath as he watched two halves of a planet fall apart, the two massive chunks of dirt and rock crumbling under the strain of their own gravitational pulls. From his point of view, Lechushe’ looked like a black crystal ball shattering in slow motion. "By the gods."
Kawal canted to see the screen and let out a whimper. "It's gone."
"It's magnificent," Crase replied.
"How could you say that?" Kawal asked accusingly. Crase could hear the anger in the other man's voice.
"Did you not give up your place on that world to serve me?"
"I did," Kawal croaked.
"Then that is how I dare say such a thing. Question me again and you will join the debris cloud that was your world."
"Yes, sir."
"We are out of immediate danger. Kill the thrusters until we're on the other side of the moon. I don't want that Greshian ship picking us off."
"Yes, sir."
"Also, I want the surveillance footage from the attack. I want to know who took my ship."
"Yes, sir," Kawal replied, pulling back on the throttles before tapping on the mobile com on his wrist. He quickly transferred digital files to the computer on the transport wirelessly before taking hold of the controls again. "The files are uploaded, sir."
Crase did not respond. Instead, he filtered through the hundreds of still images taken around the compound until he saw what he was looking for. "Well, well. It appears you were wrong about our being the only ones."
"Others from the team made it out?" Kawal asked.
"No, but two of your prisoners did."
Kawal swallowed hard. "That's impossible."
"Is it?" Crase asked, glaring at the other man. "You were supposed to monitor the corridors at all times. How could this slip by you?"
"I—"
<
br /> The response from Kawal angered Crase more than silence ever would. He reached out and grabbed the man's head, slamming his face into the console as hard as he could. Kawal' slump body slumped forward. He isn't dead, but he might as well be, Crase thought as he seized the controls.
"Computer, take control and maintain current trajectory." The autopilot engaged with the sound of a chime as Crase rose from his seat and stalked back into the small cargo hold. The Lechun man lay unconscious, his chest barely rising enough to be noticeable as Crase attached leads to his body to initiate life support.
"You're the lucky one," Crase said as he powered on the medical cart. "You'll have a second chance to succeed where Kawal failed me."
The medical cart chirped and hissed as it went to work maintaining the man's pulse to keep oxygen to his brain. Crase turned back to the bridge and grabbed Kawal by the shirt, dragging his limp body across the steel deck and dropping him by the airlock. "You, on the other hand, have another thing coming."
7
Malikea
The dim glow of blue lighting reflected off the tears streaming down Malikea's face. They appeared safe for the time being, but terror kept him leaning against the cold, steel bulkhead as he wrapped his gangly arms around his legs and rocked back and forth in time with the unknown beeping from the console. Deis lay near him, sleeping with shallow breathing and seeming content with their plight. Better to die by our own hands than be forced into slavery by another, Malikea thought, recalling Deis’s words. They did little to settle his nerves.
"I have to get out of here," he said, soft enough to not disturb Deis, but loud enough to not feel alone in the universe.
