by Leslie Chase
If only Becca wasn’t in danger with me, I’d have relished this challenge. Three armed enemies against me? It made my heart sing to think of the victory I’d win against these odds.
But that was the thought of a man with nothing to lose other than his own life. If I got Becca killed… no, I refused to even think about that. Instead I looked at the map display, getting my bearings.
The mysterious signal came from a spot beyond the range of mountains that stabbed up into the sky. This close to the source it was unmistakable, unmissable. Korhmar had to have noticed it, even if he’d never chosen to investigate. Maybe he’d even had something to do with its activation.
“Last chance to turn away,” Korhmar said, his smile fading as we closed on each other. The battle-hunger showed in his eyes. “Land and give us—”
I cut the connection, not caring to hear his promises or threats. The look on his face was clear: he no longer intended to let us live through this.
I glanced at Becca. Her face white, eyes shut tight, she breathed too quickly but otherwise seemed to have her emotions under control. Good.
“Do not worry, khara,” I told her. “I am the greatest pilot on this planet. You have my oath — I will get you to your destination.”
Her laugh was high pitched and forced, every muscle in her body tensed as she replied. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Never.” I spared a moment to reach across the gap between us again and squeezed her shoulder, feeling the painful tension in my beloved. “Trust me.”
A shaky nod was my only answer. It would have to do.
Returning my hand to the throttle, I pushed the controls forward into a dive, trading height for speed. Engines screaming, the boxy flier accelerated towards the trees below.
Korhmar’s raiders were faster, would always be faster. There was no help for that, so I needed to even the odds somehow. They swooped towards me, laser-light flickering out to snap past us. At least they were still limited to lasers — real weapons would have torn my flier apart in a single volley. The primitive human guns burned small holes in the side of our flier but nothing I couldn’t cope with.
Unless they hit the batteries. That would be bad.
Rolling the flier, I cursed as the autopilot objected to the violent maneuver, changing it into a smooth turn. Designed to help human pilots with slow reactions, it stopped me from taking the risks I’d need to escape these foes. Korhmar stayed high above, letting his two minions follow me down, and between the three of them I’d soon be trapped.
My one advantage was that they were pirates. Korhmar might want us dead but he’d still want to take our flier intact if he could. That meant they didn’t want to cause catastrophic damage — if I crashed at these speeds, there wouldn’t be enough left to salvage. That bought me some time.
Laser shots snapped past me, clipping the wings. Alarms blared in the cockpit and the autopilot tried to pull us up into what it thought was a safer course. I had to switch it off if we were going to stand a chance, but without taking my hands off the controls that was impossible.
“Shut off the autopilot,” I told Becca, keeping my voice level and forceful. Fear had her in its grasp and I’d gain nothing by making that worse.
There was no response. I risked taking my eyes off the controls — the autopilot that frustrated me wouldn’t let me crash — and looked at my human mate.
She sat frozen in place, lips moving but no sound coming out. Her eyes were fixed on her holographic animal companion, its big eyes meeting hers, and she paid no attention to her surroundings. A stab of icy pain struck me. I’d done this to her, pushed her fears too far. The alternative had been worse, but still, this was my fault.
I will not fail her, I swore to myself. If I have to save her while fighting the autopilot, so be it.
Angling the turn towards a narrow pass between two mountains, I pushed the throttle as far as it would go. Red lights told me what the autopilot thought of this speed, and I gritted my teeth. The steering yoke fought against my grip as I swerved, laser shots snapping through the space under me.
“You, Athena,” I said to the fuzzy ball of holographic feathers. “Your job is to keep your human safe, yes? I need your help.”
The thing let out a strange hooting noise, and I assumed that meant agreement.
“Take control of the autopilot,” I ordered. “Stop it getting in my way.”
Would the AI understand me? If it did, would it obey? For a moment, nothing happened. Lasers cut through the flier’s hull, and I cursed, struggling for control.
Then lights flickered green across the control panel and the flier stopped fighting me. A laser shot through the space we would have been in, another over-corrected and burned the air ahead.
Now I could dodge, but that would only last so long. Without a way to shoot back I’d have to get creative to win.
My lips pulled back in a half-snarl, half-grin. This was the kind of challenge I lived for. If Becca’s life hadn’t been on the line along with my own, I’d have enjoyed the battle.
Rolling the flier, I pulled its nose back on target for the mountains. A narrow pass cut between two peaks — perfect for what I had in mind. I spared a glance for my khara, wishing I didn’t have to put her through this: her face was pale as comet-ice, her eyes wide and staring, and her chest heaved with panicked breath.
“Not long, Becca,” I told her, and she answered with a shaky nod. The engines howled as I leaned on the throttle, aiming into the canyon between the mountains and hoping this narrow pass came out the other side.
One way or another I’d find out soon. Cliffs rose on either side, snow clinging to them, strange animals fleeing from the unfamiliar sight of a flier zooming past. I had no time to pay attention to any of that — the narrow canyon demanded all my attention as I flew through it too fast for safety.
Our pursuers followed close behind. Two of them right on our tail, lasers blasting as they came. Korhmar’s flier pulled up and flew above the pass, keeping an eye on our progress. I growled at his cowardice, his unwillingness to gamble his life on his skill.
One of the hunters lost that gamble on the first turn, banking a moment too late. His wing scraped the canyon wall and graceful flight turned into a tumbling fireball in moments. His companion jerked away from the flames, lucky that he didn’t catch any shrapnel from the explosion, and fired his lasers in an angry display that came nowhere near our flier.
I had no attention to spare for him. The canyon twisted and turned, and it took all my skill to keep up at this speed. One outcropping in the wrong place and we’d be spread across the mountainside. The hunter slowed, less willing to take a blind turn than I was, and I pulled away. Safe from the lasers behind, I relaxed slightly. Now it was only the rocks ahead I had to watch for.
I didn’t reduce speed, wanting to make the most of our lead, and the narrow space challenged even my skills. Sooner rather than later we’d run out of space. Either I’d have to pull up into the sights of the pilot above, or we’d run out of mountains and the hunter behind us would be able to gain again. As long as his partner kept an eye on us from above, I had no way to escape.
“I am going to have to do something stupid,” I said aloud, and it was only then that I realized how much I was enjoying myself. Flying, doing ridiculous stunts, fighting better armed and equipped foes that outnumbered me — this was what I’d missed since the crash, and if I died here I’d have only one regret.
I’d never know my khara. We’d met, but I’d never held her as a man should, never tasted her kiss, never seen her unclothed. Never given her the pleasure a man owes his beloved, and never felt the joy she would give me.
If I didn’t do something, though, we’d both die. Nothing gained by refusing to take the chance, and if I lived, the story would be one to tell our kits and grandkits. Another sharp turn, the canyon narrowing around me, and I took the chance.
I hit the overrides on the cargo controls, lowering the ramp. P
ressure alarms howled and a wind whipped through the flier, pulling loose items out of our living quarters. Blankets, boxes, knives, all flew out and into the path of our pursuer as he rounded the corner behind us.
It was unlikely that any of it would hit, and even if it did, it wouldn’t do much harm. But that wasn’t the point — the sudden cloud of debris made the pilot flinch, and that moment’s distraction was all it took.
The flier hit the canyon wall and disintegrated. Two down. Only Korhmar remained.
Yanking back on the control yoke, I pulled us into a sharp climb directly at the hunter overhead. Distracted by the sudden death of his companion and surprised by my unexpected maneuver, he didn’t react immediately. Precious seconds passed before he pulled back, trying for an angle where he’d have a shot at us.
When he found that angle, his lasers would kill us. Before that, though, we’d pass close enough to touch. I let go of the yoke, hitting a series of buttons and ignoring the warning lights that sprang up.
“Land the flier,” I snapped as I leaped to my feet. This part was down to Becca and her hologram bird; I had to trust that, between them, they’d make it to the surface intact. She had to live, and the emergency landing systems ought to put her down somewhere safe.
Where I’d come down was anyone’s guess. I grabbed a grav-chute from the wall, strapping it on without pause and sprinting for the cargo ramp as it swung down. Snatching the laser rifle from the wall, I braced myself.
I had moments, if that. The enemy craft hung behind us, the pilot lining up for a shot on my flier, and we were close enough that I could see Korhmar’s snarling face through the armored glass of the cockpit. Even at this close range, shooting from one moving ship to another would be impossible, but that wasn’t my plan. Slack-jawed shock spread across Korhmar’s expression as I leaped from my ship to his.
Even by my standards this was a stupid plan. Without Becca aboard, I’d have tried something else, but risking her life was harder than risking my own. I’d die a hundred times if it spared her, and this gave her the best chance of survival.
For what felt like eternity, I hung in space. Korhmar started to react, pulling his ship to the side, and fear gripped me. Not of the fall — the chute I wore would protect me from that. But if I didn’t stop him, this bastard might kill Becca. Or capture her, which would be worse. Straining, desperate, I caught hold of the ship’s nose as I fell past it, gripping hard and slamming into the metal hull.
Hanging on one-handed, I pulled my laser rifle up with the other, pressing the muzzle to the cockpit’s window and squeezing the trigger. Hot light shattered the windshield, sending red-hot glass spraying into the space beyond, catching the pilot and sending the craft into a spin. My fingers slipped, the rifle’s recoil knocking me clear of the flier and tearing the weapon from my hands. I cursed as it fell towards the rocks below, but that one shot had done the job. Becca was safe.
I hit the button on the grav-chute, slowing my fall instantly. Strong mountain winds caught me, sending me spiraling away. I tried to keep track of the fliers as I tumbled through the air. Korhmar’s spin settled into a wobbling fight out over the jungle beyond the mountains. Either the autopilot had kicked in or Korhmar had survived and recovered, but either way the flier was out of the fight.
Our flier had settled into a steep decent for the jungle plateau. I tried to keep track of its course, to follow where Becca landed. With luck Becca would make it down safely within walking distance.
With even more luck, I’d survive the fall and find her again.
10
Becca
Panic gripped me the moment Ronan leaped from his seat and vanished into the hold, leaving me and Athena alone in the sky. In theory, flying the craft would be easy even without training. That didn’t make me feel any safer as I grabbed hold of the stick with shaking hands and pushed forward, looking for somewhere safe to put down.
Athena saved me. Her interface with the autopilot might not be what the designers of either system intended, but she managed to convert my panicked tugging at the stick into something coherent. The flier’s nose dropped but not so fast that we dived.
Alien jungle stretched in all directions, dotted with clearings too small for me to put down in. My knuckles white, I fought the flier’s controls and searched for somewhere I dared try to land.
“Fuck-fuck-fuck I’m going to die,” I whispered under my breath, eyes flicking in all directions, searching for safety. Then I saw it.
An open space next to the mountains, clear of jungle, with buildings standing in it, built up against the mountains. For a moment awe overrode my fear and I stared — that wasn’t the work of recent colonists. No prytheen or human had built those stone spires.
Later, later, you can look at it later, I told myself as I grappled with the flier’s throttle and aimed us for the clear space. I’d have crashed if Athena hadn’t remembered to extend the landing gear for me. With a crunch, the flier hit the ground, bounced once, then came down again and stayed.
Warnings lit up, the flier telling me I’d landed badly. Like I didn’t know that. But I wasn’t about to lift off and try again — we’d made it to the ground, and that would do.
I hit the power switch, silencing the flier’s complaints, and curled up in my seat, wrapping my arms around myself. God. Somehow I’d landed the flier. Even with Athena and the autopilot helping, that had been the worst moment of my life. But I’d survived.
It took minutes to get myself under control enough to move. It would have taken longer, but I had to find out what happened to Ronan. The engines whined and hot metal plinked as it cooled. Slowly, carefully, feeling like I might snap into a thousand pieces if I moved too fast, I unbuckled the straps holding me down.
It took three tries, my fingers shook so much. Finally I got free and pulled myself out of my seat. We’d come down at an angle, and everything looked wrong. Stumbling to the cargo hold, I fought down nausea and searched. The flier was in chaos, half the precious gear I’d gotten for the trip had been sucked out when the ramp opened, and I saw no sign of Ronan.
My heart flip-flopped in my chest, piecing together what must have happened. One of the grav-chutes was missing from the survival locker, along with our laser rifle. Had he jumped?
I wanted to scream. To cry. Nothing came out. Whatever he’d done, it must have worked — no one shot at us after he’d left the cockpit. He’d saved my life.
And now… he was nowhere to be seen. I stared at the lowered ramp, trying not to think of him falling to his death. What else could have happened?
“He’ll be fine,” I told myself, not believing that for a second. “He’s got his grav-chute, right? Don’t worry about him, worry about yourself.”
Athena hooted agreement, landing on my shoulder. I reached up, running fingers through virtual feathers and trying to believe that Ronan would be okay.
Turning my mind away from the image of him falling from the open ramp didn’t come easily. Had he shot at our pursuers and slipped? That made as much sense as anything else. More sense than the idea that he’d jumped on purpose.
Whatever he’d done, I was alive because of it. I blinked back tears and promised myself that I wouldn’t waste that gift. I let myself down onto the surface of Crashland, my legs feeling like jelly as I reassured myself that, yes, I’d made it down in one piece.
That was more than could be said for the flier. Burned holes marked where the hunters’ laser beams hit us, and the rough landing only made the damage worse. The ramp was battered and bent from the landing — it wasn’t supposed to be open for that, but I’d forgotten to shut it.
What had looked like a flat area from the air turned out to not be as smooth as I’d hoped. The flier sat on the edge of a gully, only three of its four landing struts touching the ground. At least the stream running past meant that I’d have fresh water, though I worried that it might also mean that the local wildlife would come here to drink. I really didn’t want to meet a predato
r out here alone.
The ultrasound will keep them away. It’ll be fine. And Ronan will be back soon. It wasn’t easy to believe, but I tried my best. He couldn’t be dead. If nothing else I needed a chance to shout at him for abandoning me in the sky.
Got to keep busy. If I stay still, I’ll think about this and then I’ll start crying and then I’ll be eaten by a tenger or something. I dragged my sleeve across my teary eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath.
“I’m alive,” I told Athena, as much to remind myself as anything. The tiny ball of owl hooted agreement, flapping her wings and looking more than a little smug. That was fair. She had helped with the landing, probably more than I had.
I looked around, taking in my surroundings and trying to distract myself from the aching emptiness where Ronan ought to be. I wasn’t ready to think about that yet, and I didn’t know if I ever would be.
We’d landed on the edge of the forest, where the gully ran into the jungle. On one side, strange alien trees. On the other, even stranger buildings.
Massive structures of heavy stone, they were more like stepped pyramids than spires now that I was amongst them. Each pair taller than the next, until at the end of the avenue a single lone building towered over the rest.
I stared in awe, a lump in my throat as I tried to take in what I was seeing. No one had reported seeing anything like this on Crashland, no structures or sign of intelligent life. But this had to be centuries old, maybe millennia. The stone was worn and cracked, and the jungle had encroached at the edges of the complex.
I looked at my wristband, checking the coordinates we’d traveled halfway around the planet to reach. No surprise: we were right on top of them. Whatever was sending that hyperspace signal was somewhere in this complex.
“Where are the builders?” I asked aloud, and Athena answered with a confused hoot. It wasn’t fair to ask her questions like that, but I didn’t have anyone else to talk to.