by Lee Savino
“The warship?” I ask.
“I don’t believe so, Commander, but I’m not sure which ship. It’s definitely one of the Vgotha though.”
“Put them through,” I say with a growl.
The main screen flickers and a Vgotha appears. Sickeningly gray-green skin, puny horns, and brown eyes stare back at me. Beside me, Bogdan growls at the sight of our enemy.
“You are the High Commander?” The Vgotha asks, looking at me.
“I am,” I say, my armor flashing dangerously. The entire bridge is full of black armor now, ready for battle. “Who are you?”
“I am Tor, Chief of the Vgotha.”
I want to demand to know where Dawn is, what they’ve done with her, but to do so would be to show weakness. Instead I pretend that nothing is amiss.
“Why did you hail us?” I ask, keeping my voice level. “To surrender?”
Tor chuckles. “I infiltrated your hold and snatched something of yours right from under your nose. You can’t even find our ships. Why should I surrender?”
“Because you’re spreading yourself thin and dying in the scramble to find enough food and weapons to live through the next cycle. Surrender and your deaths will be quick.”
“Your pride will be your downfall, Commander. I have someone I’d like you to meet. Or perhaps you know her.”
The screen flashes to Dawn, exploring a mossy looking room of wherever they’re holding her. A sharp pang rips through my chest as I stare at her. Other than a bruise on the side of her face, she doesn’t look as though she’s been harmed. As I watch, she brushes her long fall of blonde hair back from her shoulder in a familiar motion, scratching at the tender spot that has been bothering her. Something clenches in my gut.
“Your Tribute has come for a visit.” Tor returns to the screen. “As you can see, she has not been damaged.”
“You will return her to us. Now.” I can feel Bogdan looking at me from the corner of his eye, but I ignore him. I am not thinking, I am acting on my emotions, but I can’t seem to help it. Just that small glimpse of my Dawn is enough to tear any logic I have to shreds.
“Or else what, Tsenturion?” Tor mocks. “My ships fly undetected past your sensors. I boarded your ship, infiltrated your personal quarters and took your prize. What’s to stop me from disappearing and taking her with me?”
“What do you want?” I ask, clenching my fists. “If you think we will surrender, you are wrong. We will fight.”
“With Jabol weapons, I know.” Tor stares at me. “The time for fighting has passed. You, Commander, will come to my warship alone, within the next cycle or you will not see your Tribute again.”
The screen goes dark.
“Drakk,” I shout as the visual of the Vgotha’s ship disappears, along with Tor’s hard-eyed gaze. Pacing, I smash a fist into a wall panel and the warriors around me startle. My crew has never seen me like this. I’m a microcycle away from losing control. “Where are they? What do our sensors tell us? Report!”
“We’re scanning the area, High Commander.” Klaxeston says tightly, head down and eyes on his instruments. “They cannot have gone far.”
I curse again and Miths and Borodem twitch. Shouting at them will not help. Nor will ripping my chair from the floor and throwing it.
“Commander.” The low voice at my elbow makes me whirl. Medik’s eyes meet mine, full of understanding. “She wasn’t hurt. She looked well. We will find her.”
No, we won’t. Because Tor is right. And even if we did somehow manage to locate the ship that she’s on, it might be too late. I won’t risk her that way.
“I’m going to the warship,” I say grimly, turning toward the door to the bridge. I can see the crew jumping up, protests halfway out of their mouths, as Bogdan steps in front of me, barring my way.
“You cannot abandon your post.”
“Do not,” I growl, “tell me what to do.”
“We need you here, in command,” Bogdan barks. “With all due respect, you are not in possession of your senses.”
“Is this mutiny?” I roar. “Get out of my way!” I’m taller but my second has more bulk. He is a mean fighter, but I do not want to fight with him—that will take up precious time. I just want him out of my way. Red flashes from my suit and seems to leap to his. My anger reflects on his face.
“Stop it both of you,” Medik snaps. “We need to talk about this.”
“We cannot throw away our chance to capture a Vgotha ship.” Bogdan points to the side screen where the abandoned ship still sits in empty space. “If we can cripple it, can bring it in for testing, we will have a chance to learn of their weapons and defenses. It could turn the tide of war to our favor. That’s what we should be scanning for, what our goal should be.”
“And what of my Tribute?” I grit out. I know what he’s going to say, but I want to hear him actually voice it. If he dares.
“They are using her against us.”
“You heard the Vgotha. I have a cycle to get to that warship. They will kill her.”
“An unfortunate casualty of war,” Bogdan says softly. To my surprise, he almost looks sorry, but he does not back down. “But she is not even one of us. There will be other Tributes, you can have whichever one of them you want.”
I surge forward, ready to correct my second’s arrogant opinion with my fists. Medik steps between us, keeping me from my target, and I shout over the older Tsenturion’s shoulder at Bogdan.
“I don’t want another Tribute. Dawn is not replaceable.”
Shock is clear on Bogdan’s face at my reaction.
“Commander,” Medik murmurs. “I agree that we must retrieve the Tribute immediately. Their population has also been depleted in this war. If we take too long to enter into negotiations, they might decide to breed her.”
“That’s not possible,” Klaxeston’s suit flares bright green with horror. Even Bogdan looks ill at the thought.
“From the information the Jabol gave us on them, Vgotha anatomy is close to ours. She might be compatible,” Medik says. “We must free her before they decide to find out.”
I stare at the blank screen, willing Dawn’s image to reappear.
“I will go,” I repeat. “Bogdan you are in command. If you want to find a way to capture the warship, you will have to do it while I am on it. You are correct, I am emotional, and I am no longer fit for duty. I am giving in to the Vgotha’s demands, what happens next with them will be up to you.”
The bridge is silent with shock.
Bogdan’s eyes darken. “This is not what I want, brother.”
“I know. But it is necessary.” I would do anything to have Dawn back, safe in my arms.
“Commander—”
“Know this,” I raise my voice so the entire deck hears, “Dawn is more than just a Tribute. She is my mate. I would give my life a thousand times to spare her any harm.”
The men around me stare at the statement. At my side, Medik wears a sad smile. Bogdan slowly shakes his head.
“The bridge is yours,” I say, stepping around both Medik and Bogdan as I begin to run towards the bowels of the ship where the scout ships are docked. The sooner I reach the warship, the sooner Dawn will be safe.
If not, the universe will not contain my rage. I will hunt the Vgotha down and destroy them all.
17
Dawn
I pace the small room, trying to figure out how I’m going to get out of here.
It’s feels like it’s been hours. There’s still some wishful part of me that hopes help is coming… but I can’t see it happening. Not when I’m so replaceable.
I pause in front of one of the walls of my prison where the Vgothas had exited. Once the door shut, the wall reformed as if the entryway never existed. Creepy, but kinda cool. The whole interior of the ship feels alive—in more than a vegetation sort of way. The air is moist and heavy like a rainforest, and I can’t get over the feeling that I’m being watched.
I put my hand on the wall and
press. It feels like damp moss, and I’m tempted to rip it off, but if it’s living material, the Vgotha might be alerted that I’m trying to escape. The forest has eyes. Instead of yanking at anything, I start patting my hands over it, checking for weak spots. Maybe I can find the crack to the door. There’s got to be a way out.
“Please let me out,” I whisper, feeling kind of silly, but I can’t shake the feeling that the ship can hear me. Understand me. I keep running my hands over the wall, moving to the next one beside where Tor and the other Vgotha left through. “I don’t belong here, I don’t want to be here… please… My name is Dawn and I just want to go home… please...”
I keep moving my hands over the wall, pleading the whole time.
To my shock, the moss suddenly melts away, showing a small tunnel, just wide enough to fit a smaller sized being... like a human.
“Thank you.” I don’t feel so silly now. Maybe a little creeped out but… I’m not throwing away my shot.
I duck inside and start crawling. Once I’m a few feet in, the wall behind me forms back in place. I take a moment to swallow my panic along with a slight dose of claustrophobia. Only one way to go—forward. I keep crawling. The light at the end of the tunnel seems to get further away—and at one point, the tunnel twists as if to stop my progress. I keep deep breathing and wait for the way to open up again. After a moment it does, as if the tunnel closing down was a test and I passed. At one point I have to contort myself to twist around a particularly hard right turn. Good thing the Tsenturions healed my knee and that I’ve kept up with my yoga. I don’t know if I could handle this tunnel if I couldn’t contort with the best of them.
At last the tunnel widens and light floods in. I pull myself to the edge and look out into a long low-ceilinged room. No sign of a Vgotha, but there’s a tiny pod, a lot like the one the Jabols used to deliver me to the Tsenturions a lifetime ago.
No quite believing my luck, I wait a moment in the mouth of the tunnel. The walls around me contract with a slight murmur, pushing me forward, a lot like the bean bag pushing me to my feet. This is unreal, but if the ship is helping me escape, I’m not going to question it.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and, drop to the floor, rush to the pod. It’s long and narrow, just large enough to fit one person. I press my hand to the panel beside it and it lights up. The pod door opens upward. After a moment’s hesitation, I climb in and lie down. The panel beside the pod beeps a few times, and the door closes with a sigh. I practice my deep breathing again, trying not to compare lying in the pod to lying in a coffin. A slight shudder, and the wall in front of the pod grows around a large dark spot, widening like an ink stain on the brown-green wall. Another shudder, a whooshing sound and the pod shoots forward. I scream as points of light rush over me, the air growing close and suffocating for a moment, and then the pod is floating in black space, faraway stars like little bright diamonds twinkling to guide the way.
I did it. I’m free. The Tsenturions won’t believe I got away with only the help of a sentient ship. I bet the Vgotha have no idea I’m even gone. I can’t imagine why the ship would let me go and then tell them. I guess the only thing I can rely on is the aliens underestimating me. Except for the ship. I frown trying to think through the ramifications of that, which is kind of hard when I’m so jittery.
The pod keeps floating smoothly along, fast enough that the starscape changes every few minutes or so. The panel beside my face has all sorts of buttons but I’m afraid to touch it. I hope the Tsenturions are out looking for me, and that I can figure out destination coordinates, otherwise I’ll be lost in space. But one thing at a time.
Shadows crawl over the glass like clouds over a sky, interspersed with rays of light. The pod shoots past a sun—a giant burning ball bright enough that the glass seems to tint, and I still have to shield my eyes. Then we’re past it and flying through dark space again, coming out to weave through a field of meteors. I don’t know how I’m moving so fast and I’m still able to see the sights close up. Silt hits the pod like a spray of pebbles. A giant rock looms close and I throw up my hands, afraid we’re going to hit it. At the last second, the pod zooms around it. After a few close calls like that, I close my eyes until we hit darkness again. The pod knows what it’s doing. I hope.
I don’t really have a choice except to trust it.
A soft light warms my face and I open my eyes to clouds of pinkish interstellar dust. Golden streaks swirl through the cloud. It’s so beautiful, I forget to be afraid. A part of me wishes Gavrill were here. If I have eleven hundred years to live with him, we could take some great trips. Explore the universe. A visit to one of these nebulae would make a hell of a honeymoon.
Darkness encloses the pod again and I realize I’m holding my breath whenever we hit these black patches. This time we’re slow coming out. Flashes of light in the distance make me tense. It looks like lightning, a million miles away. My heartbeat picks up as the flashes grow closer. There’s a storm in front of us, and we’re heading right towards it.
I fucking hate storms.
“No, no, no,” I press on the walls of the pod. I even risk hitting a few buttons on the panel. It chirps at me but doesn’t alter course. Grey-brown dust billows around us, clouding my view. We hit another meteor belt and tiny rocks pelt the pod like hail on a windshield. A few larger ones hit with enough force to make me yelp. The lightning in the distance is a lot closer, and the dust is now swirling like a tornado, sucking us forward.
Fuck. We’re going right into the storm.
White light splits the mist of greyish particles swirling around the pod. I scream. Lightning racks the pod again and again while I cover my head, whimpering. The storm took everyone I loved—my mom, my grandma, my dad before I even knew him. It sucked me through a vortex into another galaxy and now it’s trying to wipe me out before I return to him.
“No,” I scream. “No!” I kick the smooth glass top of the pod and punch the air. I will not go quietly into the night. Wet tracks down my cheeks and I’m sobbing, my chest cracking into pieces to let the emotion out, but it doesn’t feel like dying. It feels good. Few more lightning strikes, and the air around the pod shimmers. The violent clouds are fading in the distance, disappearing into the blissful darkness.
My shaky sniffles turn into a giggle. I’ve weathered the storm and come out the other side. Alive. As laughter bubbles in my chest, I raise my arms and whoop.
Stars sparkle on a clean velvet backdrop. The pod dives through rings of colored gas, then navigates past a planet, moving at record time. I resist the urge to flatten my face against the glass and study the gorgeous grey and blue orb. The temperature falls slightly, and I shiver. A rummaging study of the pod unearths a thick fur and I pull it over me. It smells like a Vgotha, earthy and rainforest-y with a slight musk that reminds me of a shaggy dog. It’s not unpleasant. I snuggle beneath the fur and resist to urge to laugh.
I was captured by Vgothas and all I got was this lousy fur robe. I still don’t know how I managed it. I completely lucked out with this pod. Not only is the autopilot working like a dream, but the ship is regulated to my body temperature. Frllil told me human anatomy was similar to Tsenturions; that was why we were considered compatible mates. Maybe the Vgothas are the same?
The more I think about it, the less I think luck was involved and that the ship and this pod have to be sentient and decided to let me go for some reason. I mean, what are the chances the tunnel from my prison room would lead straight to an escape pod? That the coordinates would be set to get me as far away from the Vgotha ship as possible? Not that I have any hopes of doing much more than drift in space until someone finds me. I can only hope it’s a Tsenturion ship.
Then I see it—shiny black and floating out from behind the frozen planet like a lesser moon. I know the shape from all the videos Frllil made me watch. It’s Tsenturion, and not just any ship—the High Commander’s.
“Hey,” I shout, as if they can hear me hail them. I study the panel butto
ns, frantically looking for one that will let me open a communication channel, send up a flare, do the Hokey-Pokey... something to get them to notice me. Hell, I’ll take off my shirt and wave it if that might help flag the guys down. Gavrill might not like me showing my body off... but Gavrill might have already written me off as lost. God, that hurts more than I want it to—like a knife in my heart. For a second, I struggle to breathe.
But I know it’s probably true.
I grip the fur robe and stare at the huge Tsenturion ship, looming larger as it grows closer. Suddenly, I’m not in a rush to be rescued anymore. Homesickness, a longing for Earth, for humans, for thinking I have even a chance at love fills me. But that’s not what I’m going to back to.
Still, at least I’m alive. Think positive and all that. Besides, it’s not like I have anywhere else I can go. Drifting off into space and dying alone in the blackness doesn’t exactly appeal either.
A microcycle later, the pod jerks and a hum fills my ears. A whitish glow surrounds me, enveloping the whole pod. Beyond it, the stars blur. We’re caught in a light beam of some sort, and it’s pulling us towards the Tsenturion ship at high speed. I grab the fur with one hand and press the other to the wall for balance. This pod needs some ‘oh shit!’ handles. A panel on the side of the Tsenturion ship opens, revealing a loading bay. Thank God. I was afraid for a moment I was going to crash into the side of the ship or get blown to bits by the tractor beam like a mosquito caught by a bug zapper.
The approaching side of the ship fills my window, and then my pod is safely inside. The doors close and Tsenturion soldiers pour onto the deck, weapons in hand to deal with my unidentified pod.
I throw the fur off my shoulders in case the Tsenturions think I’m an undersized Vgotha and blow me to bits. Gavrill has probably trained his men to be more discerning than that, but I bet a lot of them are pretty trigger-happy right now and I'm in a Vgotha escape pod.
