by O. J. Lowe
“Running out of time here!” Little shouted. “Can’t evade them forever. Impact in five, four, three…” Wilsin was already on the move, sliding into a seat, straps clipped into place across his chest. “Two, one!”
That final number was cut out, lost in the roar as the Nadine’s Grace lurched to the side, thrown into a tailspin by the impact of the missile, fire racing across the hull, atoms exploding, ripping through the metal, the entire end section of the ship torn away in an instant. Wilsin threw up an arm, grabbed the nearest support and held on, fingers going white from digging into it.
“We’re going down!” Little shouted from the cockpit, Wilsin could already hear him screaming instructions into his radio, then at Welsh and Allen. “Mayday, mayday, this is the Nadine’s Grace, currently vectoring out of control at coordinates five zero eight four three, Vazara. Taken heavy fire under the banner of aid, we cannot stay in the air. Requesting emergency assistance asap!”
All he could do was hold on, trust in Little not to kill them all with the landing, hope he hadn’t used up all his luck in getting on the ship in the first place. He refused to be killed by a ship crash, not after all he’d survived in the build-up. Aubemaya had her eyes screwed shut, she’d strapped herself in, grabbed against the roof and little sounds of fear were slipping her lips, he could see her teeth pressed together so hard, he was surprised they hadn’t shattered.
Come on, come on!
When they hit the ground, they hit it hard, didn’t even have time to scream before his head snapped back, pain rushing through him and then the blackness came…
He didn’t know how much time had passed, only one thing emblazoned in the forefront of his waking mind.
They hadn’t died.
He’d hit his head in the crash, felt it bounce off the metal frame of the wall and now his brain threatened to split open on him, but it was better than the alternative. He let out a moan, felt the sound split through chafed lips as he reached to his safety belt with uneasy hands, fiddled with it until the metal gave underneath his touch. Across the ship, Aubemaya was struggling with her own, deft fingers dancing across the unresponsive metal.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Divines alone knew how long they’d been laid here. He sure as hells didn’t. Next to him, Reeves still breathed, still asleep through the whole damn thing, the lucky bastard. Wilsin shook his head. Some ships he’d been on, their pilots made a point of bragging about their reinforced holds, especially designed to hold up in crashes in the interest of preserving what lay inside. In this case, it was them, but it could easily have been products. The trick was backfiring on those captains, hijackers had no qualms about shooting them down if they knew what they were after was going to be spared burning up.
Reinforced holds, fireproof lining, all of it had been employed here by the looks of it. The door had bent open on impact, sand spilling at their feet. They’d hit the ground and sunk in by his guess, he struggled up to his feet, the floor at an angle beneath him and crabbed his way to the hatch, pushing it open all the way. Fresh sand gushed down on him like grainy water, he ignored it and stuck his head out into the open air. Hot sun beat down on him, he squeezed his eyes shut, tried to block it out as he looked away, opening them again just a crack.
Nothing for miles around. Not that he could see anyway.
Fuck!
He withdrew, slid back down into the hold and made for the cockpit. He hadn’t heard anything from there, his suspicions confirmed as he got the door open beneath him, applying pressure to the handle to make it turn. The cockpit hadn’t survived the crash, had folded in on itself like some sort of twisted sculpture. Little hadn’t made it, he realised immediately he couldn’t have. Even a professional contortionist wouldn’t have survived being crushed that way.
Damnit, damnit, damnit!
He didn’t blame himself, he couldn’t have seen this coming. Whoever had fired the missile was at fault, yet he’d brought Little and his men out here. This was partly his mess, there was no denying that.
“Rest in peace, gentlemen,” he said. Allen and Boyle had to have been in there as well, he’d not seen any sign of them in the hold. “May the Divines have mercy upon you.”
“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Aubemaya said as he shut the door. He couldn’t meet her eyes, only nodded in agreement. She’d gotten out of her seat, had slid down to squat next to the sleeping Vedo.
“Decidedly,” he said. “We have to wake Reeves up, work out a plan. We can’t stay here, or we’ll die. Best case scenario I think, we’ll get on Aroon and fly until we hit civilisation. Need to be careful though, we don’t know where that missile came from and…”
He paused, shocked into silence by the sounds of blaster fire outside, he tensed up, swore to himself. Somehow, he got the impression that the question had just been answered. Beyond the shooting, he could hear engines. Speeders if he wasn’t mistaken, maybe some speeder bikes.
“Try and wake him up,” he said. “I’ll go see what’s happening out there.”
“If you go out there, they’ll kill you,” she said. “They’ve already taken shots at you.”
He gave her a grin. “Maybe they just want whatever they think’s aboard. They might let us go on our way if they see nothing of value.” He sounded halfway convincing, he thought, wished convincing himself was as easy. If there were only a few of them, he might get lucky. If there were many, and he could identify at least four different engines, it might be a hopeless task.
He had to try though. “Relax, Tiana. I’ll be fine. I took a negotiating class at Unisco. I was deemed acceptable at it.” He gave her an even larger grin. “I should have failed the hells out of it though, I convinced them to give me a passing grade. That’s how good I am.” Not entirely true. Anything to put her mind at ease. “Everyone wants something, it’s just a case of finding out what.” Time to hope that what they didn’t want was everyone aboard dead and looted. There’d be little he could do if that were the case.
Pushing his body through the hatch and landing on the sands, he glanced around the scene in front of him and his heart fell. He’d made an estimate of scenarios and he’d aimed too low. There weren’t four. Maybe closer to fourteen, at least, that he could see, bikes whizzing around, speeders armed with cannons coming to a halt less than a dozen feet from the fallen Nadine’s Grace. Each of them had a full complement of passengers, at least four to a cab and each of them had blaster rifles. A damn near army right in front of him and not a lot he could do about it.
Oh shit!
“What can I do for you guys?” he asked, giving them a rueful shrug. “We’ve got nothing valuable aboard. Sorry. You’re welcome to come look, but this is a peaceful flight to…”
“Shut up!”
A solitary figure had climbed up onto the hood of the lead speeder, long haired, dark skinned and with a scar across one milky-white eye. Wilsin would have marked him down as their leader in an instant, he wore better clothes than the rest of them, nor did he have a weapon in his hands. He didn’t need to, with all the firepower at his back, though a blaster pistol did stick out the waistband of his pants.
“Gauvin LePonq at your service,” the one-eyed man said with a grin. “And as of now, you’re all the prisoners of the great warlord Alicolici, ruler of the sands and chief defiant of the Vazaran Suns.” He pointed his blaster at him, drew it in a flash. “You can run and die, or you can stay and surrender. A choice it is, but one I advise you to make swiftly. What the lost prince doesn’t have, he won’t miss.”
Wilsin stuck his hands up in surrender. No point in a meaningless death. Defiance was all well and good, he’d never got the impression Blut wanted him dead. These guys though, they were a known quantity. He could read them, and he knew fighting would only end badly. They had all the cards here.
Following his lead, Aubemaya stuck her head out the hold and did the same. He hoped that Reeves was up on his feet, and if he was, nothing stupid was going to come out of h
im. Stupidity would get them killed for sure, if they lived then they could fight another day…
The End
For now.
But the story continues in…
Divine Born.
The Spirit Callers Saga #5
Coming Soon.
A Note from the Author.
Thank you for the time spent reading this book, taking the time to spend your days in this world I created. I hope that you enjoyed reading it just as much as I did when I wrote it. Just a quick note, if you did, please, please, please leave a review on Amazon for me. Even if it’s just two words, it can make a lot of difference for an independent author like me.
Eternal thanks in advance. If you enjoyed this one, why not check out other books I’ve written available at Amazon.
If you wish to be notified about upcoming works, and even get a free short story from the Spirit Callers Saga starring Wade and Ruud some twenty-five years ago, sign up to my mailing list at http://eepurl.com/dDQEDn
Thanks again. Without readers, writers are nothing. You guys are incredible.
OJ.
Just another quick note. Special thanks to everyone involved in helping put this book in front of you from my cover designer to my beta reader for the series, Ethan DeJonge, to the people who tolerate me on Twitter and Facebook.
Also, by the Author.
The Spirit Callers Saga.
Wild Card. – Out Now
Outlaw Complex. – Out Now
Revolution’s Fire. – Out Now
Innocence Lost. – Out Now
Divine Born. – Coming Soon
Paradise Shattered. – Coming Soon
Tales of the Spirit Callers Saga.
Appropriate Force. – Out Now.
Kjarn Plague. – Coming 2018
The Novisarium.
God of Lions – Coming soon
Blessed Bullets – Coming soon
About the Author.
Born in 1990 in Wakefield, OJ Lowe always knew that one day he’d want to become a writer. He tried lots of other things, including being a student, being unemployed, being a salesman and working in the fashion industry. None of them really replaced that urge in his heart, so a writer he became and after several false starts, The Great Game was published although it has recently been re-released as three smaller books, Wild Card, Outlaw Complex and Revolution’s Fire, now officially the first three books in the Spirit Callers Saga, a planned epic of some sixteen books. He remains to be found typing away at a laptop in Yorkshire, moving closer every day to making childhood dreams a reality.
He can be found on Twitter at @OJLowe_Author.