by Jess Granger
Cyani worked the stabilizers with her hands as she ignited the thrusters. “Hold on, this should be interesting.”
With a surge of power, the ship took off, dipping low over the crater in the airfield then surging up toward the milky atmosphere shield.
Sirens screamed in the cockpit. Cyani blocked them out as she focused on her task. She had to power the energy converter and jump into macrospace before their “escort” arrived.
“Warning, breach of flight permissions. Stand by for escort.” The computer scolded in a blaring monotone.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Cyani ground out between her clenched teeth as the ship sliced through the shield.
The whole of the universe opened up before them, the stars brilliant in their intensity.
Cyani fought to place her feet on the top pedals as she simultaneously plotted their coordinates and initiated the energy converter.
Just then, an alarm blared and the sensation of weightlessness overcame Cyani. Soren shouted in shock as Vicca floated out of his lap, transformed into a giant ball of fluff with scurrying legs.
“Hold on!” Cyani yelled as she banged her fist against one of the panels.
With a loud resonant hum, the energy converter initiated. Soren grabbed Vicca, trying in vain to shove floating hair out of his face. He clutched her to his chest, determined to hold the panicked fox.
“Cyani, they’re coming,” Soren shouted over the alarms.
Snapping her attention back to their situation, she noticed the readout of the two stingships coming up fast on their tail. A blast shook the ship just as the gravitation generators came back online. Cyani slammed down into her seat.
More blasts rocked the ship, shaking loose an overhead panel that swung from wires above them.
“Hold it together, baby, we’re almost there,” Cyani muttered as she watched the bar indicating the ship’s interdimension energy potential slowly rise. Once it hit green, they could leap macrospace.
Using evasive maneuvers, she tried to avoid fire from the stingships behind them. A blast shook the ship. Cyani couldn’t avoid another hit. They had locked on.
The macrospace indicator flashed. Pushing forward with all her strength, she launched the ship into the dimensional fold, while fighting against the surge of g-forces pressing her back into her seat.
With a gut-turning lurch, the ship settled into her stride and everything went still. A high-pitched beep punctuated the silence, adding a slow staccato to the low hum of the energy converter.
Soren turned to look at her. She took a deep breath and rubbed her palms as the stress of the launch caught up to her. Her head pounded and her fingers felt shaky and weak.
“Did we make it?” Soren asked. Vicca scrambled out of his hands. She grabbed the severed hand and disappeared into the hold.
“For now. There’s no way to communicate with, or fire on, a ship in macrospace.”
“And the ship?”
As if on cue, the hull shuddered before settling again.
“She’s holding together,” Cyani answered as she tried to fix the loose panel back into place. “Barely.”
Soren reached for the latch of his harness.
“I wouldn’t get up just yet. It seems the gravitation generators are giving us all or nothing. They’ll probably fail again . . .” Cyani slammed her palm against the loose panel, and it seemed to lock into place. She kept a wary eye on it just in case.
“Vicca!” she called. The fox didn’t return.
“How are you holding together?” Soren asked. He reached out to touch her bare arm. He couldn’t help himself. Instead of a wild rushing need to possess her, he felt a burning desire to protect her. He pulled his hand back. He was still dangerous.
“I’ve been better,” she commented while rubbing her bruised knees. “This isn’t over. They know where we’re going. They could read the computer coordinates. They’ll be right on our tail as we come out of macrospace, and they aren’t the only ones.”
“What do you mean?”
“I programmed the ship to take us to the nearest star system in Union-controlled space. We’ll be dropping out of the dimensional fold near an undeveloped world. The Union has a spaceport on a moon in that system.”
“That’s a good thing. They’ll be able to help us.”
“Perhaps. The Union might take out a couple of ships following us, but that’s not what I’m worried about. We are in a Garulen ship, and there is something wrong with the communications system. I don’t know if the Union will recognize us.”
“Great,” Soren muttered. “Could things get any more difficult?”
“I don’t want to tempt fate.” Cyani resumed her fight with the chair. She twisted a knob under the seat of the chair and it dropped several inches, relieving her knees.
Sheer exhaustion seeped into her bones, making her body feel like she was on a gravity five planet or higher. She managed to lift her hand long enough to check the gravitation generators. Unfortunately, they were working fine. It was her body that was betraying her.
“Are you okay?” Soren asked.
“I’m fine,” she snapped.
“No, you’re not.”
“Damn it, Soren. Is now really the time for this conversation?” She slammed her palm down on a panel, leaving a dent.
He crossed his arms.
Cyani clenched her teeth. Her mind reeled with words, but none of them seemed to string together into a response with any more substance than “Go suck a rankock.” She swallowed her anger, realizing that showing her irritation only proved his point.
“Could you make yourself useful?” She focused on the panel before her, checking her coordinates and preparing the ship for the drop out of macrospace.
“Doing what?” Soren grumbled. He shook his head as if he pitied her.
Tension pulled her strained muscles tight through her neck. She forced her muscles to relax and acknowledged that his little shake of his head was a sign that she won this round. He was letting it drop, for now. Unfortunately, she knew it was not the end of things.
The gravitation generator dropped out again.
“When do we slow down?” Soren asked, gathering his hair in his fist at his nape. Vicca barked from somewhere in the hull. Then the generators kicked back in. The sudden sense of falling invaded more than just her heart.
“Vicca, get your fluffy butt back here,” she shouted.
“I’ll get her,” Soren offered, unstrapping his flight harness.
“Leave her. She’ll be okay. We’re approaching the other side of the dimensional fold.” Focusing on what was to come, Cyani put her feet on the pedals and her hands on the controls. “Com, link to transmitter and broadcast Union distress code five.”
The ship trembled and groaned as it began the drop out of macrospace. Cyani initiated the shutdown of the energy converter as the ship came alive with noise and light once more.
The viewscreen blazed with color as they streaked past an outlying aquamarine planet in the star system.
Warning: Union ships locked on target.
The cockpit flooded with red light as Cyani whipped her hands over the globe, spinning them off to the left, hoping to duck behind the moon of the planet.
The ship lurched twice as the energy waves of two more ships dropping out of macrospace crashed into their hull.
“Damn it, Vicca. Come! ” Cyani screamed as she twisted the ship around in a dizzying spin that swung the moon before them in a dancing loop around the viewscreen.
The blaring noise in the cockpit blended into a jarring hum in her mind as she used the moon’s gravity to swing them down and around the planet, racing to the bright yellow and blue gem in the distance.
A red flash lit across the viewscreen.
Warning: Energy converter reaching critical potential. Event imminent.
“Shakt, why isn’t it shutting down?” She banged her fist against the controls again, watching the red line slowly grow. The energy converte
r latched to the belly of the ship was about to explode.
“Hang on!” Spinning the ship toward the Union patrol, she flew past them as a volley of fire rattled their small cage. With a steady hand on the controls, she headed straight toward the Garulen ships that had followed them into macrospace.
Reaching above her, she punched a series of codes into the computer. “Com, jettison converter,” she shouted above the blaring sirens.
She held their course steady, her eyes trained on the Garulen ships growing on the viewscreen. She slowed the ship, and with a gut-twisting lurch, the ship released the converter.
She nearly stood on the pedals, pushing the auxiliary engines into overdrive as she flipped them straight back and over, then twisted around until the tiny planet that offered their only hope of salvation swung into the viewscreen once more.
“View, 180 degrees.” The screen switched so Cyani could see what was happening behind them. They needed enough distance from the converter. It glowed like a tiny white and orange veined ball of blue fire in the blackness of space.
“Hold on, keep it running, baby,” she whispered to the ship as the Garulen ships tried to pull up to avoid the converter.
With a flash of brilliant white, the converter exploded. The cockpit went still for a fraction of a second, then the deafening boom rocked the ship. The force of the energy wave shook them with a ferocity that beat Cyani into her seat, the straps of her flight harness battering her shoulders and waist.
The ship tumbled out of control on the energy wave, cart-wheeling toward the planet.
“View, zero!” she screamed as the view switched, not that it did her much good. She fought to stabilize the ship, battling with the controls as the brilliant star, the heart of the system, blazed through the screen.
Turning their nose up and out, she managed to stop the spinning and roll the ship back toward their goal. Checking the sensors, she didn’t see the Union ships. Hoping the energy wave tumbled the Union ships as well, she stood on the thrusters again, determined to power them to safety.
Warning: Fuel levels are low.
“Shakt!” Cyani slowed the ship and pulled the nose toward the horizon as the planet loomed before them. She surfed the edge of the atmosphere for a minute before dropping the ship through the fire into the embrace of the planet.
“We overshot the Union outpost. I’m going to have to bring the ship down in the middle of nowhere.” She spared a glance at Soren, who looked pale as death. “Where is Vicca?”
“I don’t know.”
Her heart dropped into her boots. She didn’t have time to worry about her fox. They were going to crash, and they were going to hit hard if she couldn’t slow them down. The ship screamed through the planet’s atmosphere, red fire licking over the viewscreen.
The sweeping plains of the planet rushed toward them as Cyani tried to level off and bring the ship to a hover before dropping them to the ground. Her ears popped with a sharp pain that lanced down into her throat as the ship wobbled through the air. Using the force shields as a buffer, she dipped them low to the ground. The right thruster gave out.
A strange, paralyzing calm came over Cyani as she closed her eyes. She didn’t hear the metal crushing around her, didn’t feel the shattering glass abrade her skin.
She remembered her mother’s eyes, bright gold; they’d shone in the darkness that constantly surrounded them. Now that she knew Soren, Cyani couldn’t help associating the cat-like gaze of her mother with fear. Her mother never showed fear—did she feel it? Would she be ashamed that her daughter felt it now?
She pictured her brother’s boyish face, his dark green eyes and waving iridescent black hair, so like their father’s. His smile, that ever-present about-to-start-a-fire-that-brings-down-the-world smile. He was her twin. She had never known a moment of existence without him. Even if his presence was only in her heart.
Is this what it is like to die?
Are these the things people think about?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The bone-crushing sound of the ship’s destruction shook her as the cockpit ripped away from the rest of the ship and tumbled across the savannah.
8
THE BLACKNESS SURROUNDED HIM. SOREN TRIED TO STRUGGLE AGAINST IT. He had to escape it.
I have to escape.
Panic rose in his heart like a wild animal. He thrashed against his restraints, the pain in his body nearly unbearable.
Then, like a cool breeze on his face, the familiar, overwhelming sense of calm stole through him.
“Lakal?” he whispered.
It couldn’t be. Lakal was dead. Lakal couldn’t be controlling his fear, but he’d known that mind-touch for years. He would never forget the feel of it. It was Lakal. He was near.
“Lakal, are you there?” Soren called. He felt the flush of hope and joy rush through his heart.
If he could feel Lakal, it could only mean one thing. He was dead, too.
How could death be so painful?
Soren groaned as he opened his eyes. Crushed and ripped metal surrounded him, pressing against his side as he hung suspended in his flight restraints.
They’d crashed. He was still alive.
The pungent scent of scorched earth and metal reached his nose as an ominous black liquid seeped from one of the crushed control panels. Flecks of blood spattered over everything.
“Cyani?” he called, turning his head to the side in spite of the sharp pain in his neck.
She lay lifeless, a dark stain of blood seeping through her hair.
“Cyani!” He ripped at his flight restraints. Fear tore his heart and lungs like a starving wolf at a carcass. He worked his body free of his restraints, and pulled his leg out from the crushed metal. A jagged edge ripped through the muscle of his calf, but he didn’t care. His heart pounded so fiercely, he could think of nothing else but the terror of losing her now.
Sunlight burned through a large hole in the twisted wreckage as Soren carefully unlatched Cyani’s flight harness and brushed bits of broken glass from her hair. He could feel her faint breath against his cheek.
Placing a palm on her breast, he felt her heart beating. It seemed weak to him, unsteady, but she was alive.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” he promised. “We’re going to make it.”
With tremendous care, he lifted her out of her seat, and managed to pull them both through the hole.
The intensity of the sunlight seared Soren’s eyes. He squinted at a sea of grassland. Small fires burned around the wreckage of the ship, making the heat in the dry air undulate.
The wreckage had gouged a huge chunk out of the red soil, creating a decent fire barrier. Soren limped to the shaded side of the destroyed cockpit. Hot blood poured down his leg, but he ignored the burning pain as he cradled Cyani against his chest.
“We are going to get through this,” he whispered to her. “I promise.”
Once again, he felt the calming touch of Lakal. It simultaneously confused him and kept him focused. He looked up, scanning the endless grasses, then placed Cyani on the ground with delicate care.
Peeling off his shirt, he tore strips of the material to tie over the deep cut on her brow and bandage his leg.
“Wake up,” he ordered. “I need you to wake for me.”
She didn’t open her eyes, but her breathing hitched.
Soren ran his fingertips over her face. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “I can’t do this without you.”
He bent over her and brushed a kiss on her forehead, then over her lips.
“I can’t,” he murmured against her lips. He kissed her deeply, pouring his fear and his desperation into the caress, hoping it would wake her. With the drugs in his system, his kiss had to be potent enough to wake her. Her lips felt too soft, too yielding. It terrified him. She had to wake. She had to. Any moment she’d open her eyes and slap him.
He pulled away, careful to watch for any sign that she might recover. She sigh
ed. Her eyelids fluttered, then remained closed.
Soren looked up at the endless blue lavender sky. There was nothing else he could do. In that moment, he felt more alone and helpless than he ever had in his tortured and chained existence.
Calm. He couldn’t panic. Cyani needed him.
On the breeze he heard a faint yelp.
“Vicca,” Soren gasped.
Half limping, half hopping on his good leg, he struggled over the ripped soil to the largest hunk of fuselage.
“Vicca!” he called as loudly as he could. A desperate bark echoed inside the ship.
Soren squeezed through a tear in the hull, and blinked in the shadowy darkness of the wrecked ship.
“Vicca, come,” he called.
The fox whined in pain.
Using the sound to guide him, he lifted a large sheet of metal beneath a mangled control panel.
The fox struggled toward him, but one of her front legs was badly broken, the bone pushing through the skin. She collapsed, yowling in pain. Blood stained her fur pink, and her bright eyes looked glassy and distant.
“Easy girl,” he murmured to her, scooping her up out of the wreckage. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”
She whimpered as she struggled to lick his face then settled on licking his bloody hand. Holding her as gingerly as he could, he fought his way out of the wreckage and limped back to the place where he left Cyani.
She remained unconscious.
Feeling his heart drop into his stomach, he placed the fox next to her master.
A shadow rippled over the golden grasses. Soren looked up. Large black birds circled overhead.
What was he going to do?
Stumbling away from Cyani and Vicca, he cried out to the endless savannah before him.
“Help me,” he shouted. “Someone, please . . .” He collapsed to his knees. The sunlight seared the bare skin of his shoulders. “Help me,” he whispered, not in the language of his captors, not in the language of his home, but in the language of his lost friend. Why did he speak Makkolen? He didn’t have the energy to think about it. The language comforted him, made him feel less alone. It always had.
He lifted his head. An overpowering sense of urgency rushed through him. He had to move. He knew which direction. He didn’t know how, but he knew.
