by Justin Bell
My heart skips a beat as four close shotgun slugs rock the pod.
Do I have time to do this? Even with this strange advanced knowledge and this oddly specific plan in my head, can I make this happen before they're close enough to unload all of their slugs at me all at once?
Guess we'll find out.
I glance out of the clear canopy to see the vague, looming shapes of at least ten approaching commandos charging towards the pod. My fingers punch keys, sending commands to the fuel cells and reversing the charge of the thrusters.
Somehow I now know these drop pods release from low orbit and throttle down through the atmosphere like the shotgun slugs these creatures carry. Once they hit a certain altitude, thrusters automatically kick on to slow their descent, allowing for a more graceful landing.
If I can bypass that automation . . .
I close my fist and slam it down on a red button next to the etched keypad as three more shots send the pod jostling. The pod sits on three landing skids, one of the skids lifts up off the ground, and the thing is tipping. If it falls over, I'm as good as done.
It just hangs there at an angle, threatening to topple. I shift all my weight to the opposite side, trying to keep it from going over. It hovers there for another moment on the precipice of crashing sideways. As the pod lurches from another shot, a low roar bellows out from underneath.
Almost at once the pod rights itself with a jump from port to starboard. The swift leap would have knocked me off balance if the pod actually had room to stumble. A loud bang echoes in the darkened air and the pod shudders . . . then leaps upward.
Dust and dirt spew up all around me as the pod jumps up into the air. The manual ignition of the bottom thrusters carry it at insane velocity straight up as the Reblon commandos draw near. I can see by the sudden belch of flame and smoke that three were too close. The others grow smaller as the pod soars up into the sky.
So, now I'm in a pod that's supposed to descend, only it's going up instead. A pod . . . with no steering, no controls, and no acceleration or braking.
Brie, how can you be such a genius and so wildly unprepared all at the same time?
Directly after this thought comes to mind, I reel back and throw myself at the side of the pod, twisting my uninjured shoulder around to pound the curved inner chamber of the pod. The impact tilts the small spacecraft to shift it at an angle, starting to change its course. I pull back again and repeat the motion, throwing myself even harder against the inside chamber which throws the pod even further into a diagonal trajectory.
So I have some manner of control.
Just some.
Is it enough?
Only one way to find out.
Chapter Nine
Beneath the pod there's a series of abrupt, throttling coughs and the desperate sputter of spent fuel as the chamber I'm wrapped in starts to tilt further to the left. Based on the noise I'm guessing the left thruster just quit.
After all, these drop pods are designed to slow the descent and likely don't have much spare fuel because they don't want to risk detonation. Makes sense, right?
I have no idea, I'm an eighteen-year-old girl.
Except right now, I'm not. Right now, strapped into this drop pod, I'm a full on Reblon commando with my broad shoulders wedged into this chamber and my well-conditioned mind scoping the interior, thinking of options.
Two bangs from outside signal an attempt from below to shoot me down, though the range of the double-barrel shotguns isn't quite enough to do any real damage.
I press myself to the translucent canopy to get a better look at the terrain below. I see my target. It's surrounded by a thick cluster of pods. Even from this distance I can see the roaming, sloped shapes of fur-covered Reblons, and for a moment I could swear I even see some of their beady little dark eyes glaring up at me.
The glass is cool against my palms as I press them to the canopy. I adjusting my position so I can get a proper view of the target. Already my stolen spacecraft is tilting further and beginning a downward descent. The loss of one thruster is enough to keep it from compensating in a vertical trajectory. As it lilts and lurches, it begins to topple in mid-air, threatening to roll upside down, but I try to press myself backwards and shift my weight enough to keep it somewhat upright. I'm not sure if this will work all the way down.
The hard and dark ground below rushes up towards me. The pod seems to pick up speed as it descends. I hear the second thruster back-fire, then cut out. Deep in the pit of my stomach I can feel the momentum changing.
Below me, I see panicking Reblons scrambling away from the potential impact spot to find some kind of protection from my impromptu landing. Fuel tanks are empty in this bad boy, so I don't expect a big explosion, but beyond that, who the heck knows what's about to happen? Not me, that's for sure.
With its quickening pace, the pod begins to tumble end over end, slamming me from one wall to the next. My injured shoulder strikes the sharp edge of a panel and flares with white hot agony through my entire right side.
I see a blur of ground, stars, and mountains. My head is dizzy and my eyes are squinting shut against the chaos of this wretched spinning. I'm seconds from impact. I can tell by looking that there's no cushion inside this fragile bubble, no kind of protection whatsoever, and if I'm going to survive this, I have to move pretty much right the heck now.
My knees coil deep into my chest, I brace myself against the curved back wall of the pod, wrap my thick, furry fingers around a pair of makeshift handholds, and then thrust out with both legs pumping like fuzzy pistons.
Both heels slam against the canopy, sending star burst cracks from the impact points and jarring loose the clasp holding the door firm against the side of the pod. With a clang and sucking noise, the canopy tears free of its hinges, spiraling off into the sky as the pod tumbles. Wind blasts into the chamber, beating at my face and chest.
I can hear the shouting voices of the commandos down below and the echoing barks of officers yelling orders among the foot soldiers.
In a second I'll be in the middle of them. The ground that has been speeding towards me now looks like it is moving in slow motion. It's a strange combination of sensations that I don't like, especially when my life is at stake.
I adjust my stance, pulling my legs back into the chamber and tucking them underneath myself, wedging them against the wall behind me. I shoot like a rocket from the pod, out into the darkened sky. I think back to the phrase terminal velocity and wonder how durable the roughened hide of this Reblon creatures is.
The drop pod smashes onto rock and blasts apart, no explosion (turns out I was right about the lack of fuel), and before I know it, I'm at the rock, leading with my non-injured shoulder.
I strike hard and fast, harder than I expected, and my momentum carries me over into a sprawling, uncontrolled roll, letting my upper back and shoulders take the punishment. Jagged ramrods of pain spear me from every direction as rocks and debris punch at me, tug at my uniform, and slam into my armored suit.
That armored suit saves my life, either that or the rugged structure of my new Reblon frame. By the time I'm done tucking, rolling and sprawling, I'm able to come up in a crouch. My entire body is tense and searing with intense pain, but I'm moving and able to control my limbs. I swivel at the waist and look back, seeing my target, the jump ship, is only twenty feet away.
I had managed to launch the pod in an arc wide enough to get me within shouting distance of my jump ship, and better yet when the pod hit the rocks, it took a few more Reblons with it.
It didn't get all of them. That would have been far too easy.
A small group comes from around the jump ship, lifting their weapons to charge towards me. They are anticipating my next move, and I give it to them, bursting forward with my weapon raised.
With the first two shots, two approaching commandos shout, spiraling away. A Reblon charges me from my right side. I twist, knocking his momentum off course, then drill an elbow into his fore
head, slamming him back onto the rocks.
As he falls backwards I shift my weapon above him and fire twice more, dropping a second charging creature, then push myself back towards the jump ship. Clouds of dust fly up around my feet as I run.
A herd of hairy aliens converge to block my path to the ship. My shotgun explodes as I lunge right, taking down two creatures and avoiding a scattering of return fire.
I dive forward, curl into a somersault, and come up behind a horn of rock. Its twisted shape looks as if it extruded itself from the solid face of the surrounding stone, a festering boil of protection. Shots pound off the opposite side and scatter away. I spin around the edge, fire again, dropping another commando, then charge towards where he fell.
Two more charge in. I raise my knee to kick one in the chest and knock it back several feet in the air. It smashes hard against an erect drop pod, denting the metal hide with his spine.
I could get used to this strength. The second leaps at me, but I slip right to crash my rifle into his chin, knocking his head back. I drive a fist deep into his stomach, then pound a hammer fist into where his temple should be, but who knows with these hairy gorilla things.
The jump ship is right there, right ahead of me, within spitting distance now. I continue my run towards it. Another blast erupts from my left, just another shotgun blast amid a constant flood of them, but this one leaves my left side screaming with the impact of both slugs.
I'm sprawling, and for a frightening moment, the jump ship blurs and seems to shift into some other state of existence as pain laces my entire left side.
Just when the pain seems too strong, I strike the hard ground with my right shoulder, the injured one and the general distress dissipates from my left side and focuses its razor sharp needle of pure agony on the opposite shoulder to clear my head.
I roll as more shotgun shots echo, smacking into the ground around me.
Though the pain is a dull, pulsing throb on my left side, when I press my palm there, I find no wetness. I realize the layered armor has prevented grievous harm, but the impact still knocks the wind out of me as I struggle to clamor to my feet, my head abuzz. I stumble as I try to stand and I can vaguely make out the shapes of Reblons converging around me, as if freed from some thick fog or thought into being by an over-active imagination.
But I'm not imagining this. I am down on one knee, my weapon cast aside, with half a dozen fur-covered dog looking aliens coming towards me, with their weapons firmly in hand.
The jump ship is right there . . . so close.
The Reblon commandos aren't firing on me; they're approaching, weapons up, but they haven't gunned me down yet. That's when the one in the middle levels his weapon, sneers and pulls the trigger.
My Reblon mind and my Bragdon reflexes are a hair quicker. I've already leaped to my feet and charged him, pitching right as the shot goes off. Within a matter of seconds I crash into the right side of the line of Reblons, kicking one high in the chest and grabbing the weapon of a second, twisting and throwing him over my shoulder. I wrench the weapon from his hands as he tumbles over me, then spin to open fire, sending others scattering and giving me the opening I need.
I run again, pushing through the roaring pain in my left side. My right arm is now numb from the shoulder to my forearm. My fingers feel only a dull prickle of sensation.
One Reblon breaks from the group and comes at me, but I leave my feet, slam my palm on the back of his head, pushing him down as I vault over him.
I hit the ground running again. The jump ship is now looming above me. I sweep around the exit ramp then bolt up it with my feet clanging on metal plates and a scattering of gunfire punching into the metal around me.
As I jump up into the cargo hold, I slam my fist on the emergency seal and the ramp sweeps up behind me to latch closed with a loud, sharp bang that echoes in the enclosed area.
Outside the ship I hear the abrupt slams of shotgun slugs trying to break the metal hide of this small ship.
I swing into the bucket seat, which is far too small for me in this new form, but I don't have time to try to figure out how to shift again. I slam the thruster ignition and clamp my thick fingers around the control sticks, pulling them towards me as the jump ship jolts, tilts, and starts throttling to life.
Interstellar thrusters had blown their fuel, but for local site-to-site transport, it looked like the emergency backup engines were good to go. That is unfortunate for the Reblons who are approaching the entrance ramp. Blue flame shoots from the rockets searing ground and fur-covered flesh. The distinct odor of burnt hair filters into the cockpit as the jump ship lumbers into the air.
I can't get much altitude. The backup burners don't have enough power for that at the moment, but I surge forward, opening up with the chin mounted plasma turret to send Reblons scattering as I walk hot energy across the rocky ground.
Up ahead the rocky peak is visible, and I can make out the mouth of the cave at the base of the rocks. There aren't many Reblons there. Most of them are still charging my former location, but a few come scrambling after me. I lower the ship, direct the turret guns towards them, and then open fire to send one of them running, but mowing down the other two.
With a shuddering bang the ship hits the ground. I jolt in the cockpit, landing harder than I intended, but feeling a desperate need to grab Luxen and figure out how to get out of here.
I have no idea if this thing has the power or the capability to even break orbit, but at this point it's the only shot we've got. Tossing the canopy open, I vault sideways from the cockpit and drop the twelve feet down to the ground, landing on thick legs in a low brace.
"Luxen!" I shout. "Luxen, it's Brie! I've got the ship, let's move!"
From behind me, shotgun blasts roar and the jump ship thrashes with the impact of dozens of shotgun blasts.
"Luxen!" He's not coming, at least not yet. Did he even see me shift into this form?
Five more metal on metal punches echo in the darkness. Is their aim that bad? Or are they not even aiming at me?
I turn, my eyes widen, and I catch the thick group of fur covered creatures converging on the jump ship, concentrating all of their weapons fire on my only possible means of escape. As I watch, the next barrage strikes a fuel cell on the right, rear thruster. It explodes into a searing flash of white light, enveloping the back half of the ship and coating the rest with blue fire.
Good plan, Brie. Good plan.
Chapter Ten
"Luxen?" my voice echoes in the dank emptiness of the cavern as I move in, keeping close to the wall.
I don't know what good it will do to find him now. Just outside the cave the jump ship, our one means of escape, is a shattered mess. Flames are scattered across what is left of its metal skin, and large chunks of hull are spread out over the surface of the ground. In moments the Reblons will swarm us.
With another look down into the darkness and a glance back over my shoulder to ensure that no one is approaching, I close my eyes and refocus. The pain in my shoulder feels like a jagged knife dipped in scalding oil and my entire left side feels like a single deep bone bruise. The more I stand still, the harder I find it to continue walking, but I steady my breath and dig deep, letting my mind go back to the swamp lands of Braxis, to a place that may or may not be home.
There's a slight twist of bone, some gentle tugging of muscle, but no real pain, and when I open my eyes again, I'm a Bragdon with gray, leathery reptile skin taut over narrow bone. My entire architecture shifted in more or less the blink of an eye. For a moment I start to buy into this whole legendary girl from the stars nonsense.
Only for a moment. It's the only time I can spare.
"Luxen!" I bark again. I'm sure the Reblons are moving closer, and while I feel more natural in the Bragdon skin, I'll be much more easily identified as well.
In the dark cave I see the luminescent sparkle of nocturnal eyes staring back at me in the low haze. There's a flash of recognition, and he starts to move, bu
t I hold out my hand as I approach.
Then he does move, he lunges out from behind his rock shelter, lifting his hands.
"Luxen, stay down!" I whisper.
He doesn't listen.
A bright flash bursts from his hands, blinding me in the darkness of the cave. My reflexes tug me left. Did he just shoot at me?
Plasma streaks over my right shoulder, the shoulder that is still a ball of thorns. Behind me I hear the muffled bark and groan of a Reblon commando. I spin on my heels, fists clenched, to see the sprawling mound of fur tumbling away, while two others come to the mouth of the cave.
Another blast of energy burns through the air to my left as I charge forward. It strikes one of the Reblons in the chest and he stumbles to fall forward. The second is bringing his weapon around when I move inside his range, knock the gun aside, and wrap my fingers in the fabric of his vest. I hurl him over my shoulder, driving his skull into the rock ground. As soon as his slumped form topples over, I charge towards Luxen who is side-stepping out from the rocks with the plasma weapon still clutched firmly in both hands.
"Run!" I shout. "Get deeper into the cave!"
"Where are we going to go?" he asks.
I don't have an answer. This whirlwind brain of mine doesn't even have an answer. For the first time in over a month I feel as if I'm at a complete and total loss.
Within moments we're enveloped by darkness as the cave swallows us so completely that even with my night vision I can't navigate. I hear slamming feet out near the cave's mouth and the muffled shouts of the enemy commandos. I can see the twisting beams of weapon-mounted lights carving through the darkened cave.
"Do you know where we're going?" Luxen asks. Ahead of us there's an opened space with several branching corridors faint in the low light.
"No idea," I confess as we step closer into the open area. Down the corridor directly in front of us, I see the faint glow of light.