by David Roman
A short droid on three wheels approached them. It had an elongated metal neck and a monitor for its head displaying a pair of bright lights. Four limbs extended from its torso. “Captain,” it said to Spaide. “Where are we headed?”
“Heradonn system,” Spaide replied, going past the robot. “Prepare the coordinates.”
The robot beeped and set its gaze on Vincent.
“Dagoneth is a very advanced droid,” Gaia explained. “He should store tons of valuable information.” She reached down. “Dagoneth, have you ever seen species such as this man?” She pointed at Vincent.
“Negative,” the robot replied instantly. “The likes of this creature’s species, homeworld, or origin are unknown to my databank.”
Vincent scoffed. “Surprising.”
“Sorry,” Gaia said, showing signs of shame at the fact that she still had doubts about Vincent’s story and his alleged “Earth.”
The group headed into the cockpit. There was little space inside between the five chairs and the curved panel. Exander jumped into one of the front chairs and grabbed the controls. “Okay, Spaide, do your magic.”
The Dirsalian took his place behind the helm and started to turn keys and knobs.
Vincent sat into one of the three passenger chairs behind those of the pilot and the first mate. He could barely control the childlike feeling of joy creeping up his spine. His situation and the headache no longer bothered him; here was something that outweighed his worries—here was more adventure.
“Everyone, strap on your belts!” Spaide shouted as the mighty engine roared. The panel lit up in multiple hues of neon green and red colors.
Vincent looked around and couldn’t find a harness of any sort.
“Lean back and push the button under your hand rest,” Gaia said as she saw him struggling.
As Vincent pushed the button, two belts slid out of the headrest and strapped him to the chair by crossing over his chest. “Cool,” he whispered, looking at the strange material that was flexible with his every movement, similar to the belt in Spaide’s jet.
“So much for you,” the big guy said, gripping the handles.
Vincent looked over and realized that the big guy wasn’t wearing any belts due to his monstrous size.
The Star Serpent lifted off and gradually tilted up. Vincent’s heart began tensely beating as he saw the rooftop move away. “This is it,” he mumbled under his breath. I am going to space–and without any of the strenuous training regiments that the astronauts endure for years before taking off. Not even wearing those humongous spacesuits. Just like that, I’m going to see the cosmos!
Seconds later, the roof became the size of a plate. Vincent was getting sucked into his chair as Spaide accelerated. He could barely turn his head to look down but still struggled with every second to catch a glimpse of the planet from that height.
“Preparing to penetrate the atmosphere,” Spaide said. “Engines check?”
“Check,” Exander said.
“Boosters check?”
“Just go!”
“Hold on!” Spaide commanded and pulled a lever.
The vessel boosted forward at an immense speed, causing Vincent to feel the force of the push in his stomach. The belt completely solidified, tightly enclosing around him. Sparks of the ship ripping through the atmosphere surrounded them, and then in an instant, everything went slow as if Spaide had hit the brakes. But instead of flying forward, Vincent remained in his seat. He felt something he’d never felt before: a strange sensation of simplicity passing through his body.
He was in space.
“Turn on the gravity!” the big guy screamed as he was beginning to float over his chair. Exander hit a few buttons, the feeling of weightlessness disappeared, and Damocles came crashing down with a thud.
“Hey, be careful, you big idiot!” Spaide cried out.
“How many times I’ve told you to adjust this seat for me?” Damocles replied in self-defense, positioning himself.
Spaide turned around, furious. “You’ve got your junk all over the ship and won’t even take the time to adjust it for yourself? I'm the pilot, not the decorator!”
“Stop this bickering!” Exander shouted without taking his eyes off the control board. “What is it with you two, damn it?”
Vincent once again dazed off from the rest of the group. He gazed outside at the stars, random thoughts running in his mind. He already had too much for one day. Just one day. At least that’s how much time he thought had passed. And here I am on my way to possible death or imprisonment with a bunch of aliens. His crew—the people around whom he was slowly beginning to feel comfortable—were, in fact, a bunch of suicidal maniacs. His lips formed a smile. My crew. Somehow he was forgetting they weren’t human and seemed to look past that. This quick adaptation vaguely brushed him with fear—fear that he’d never see home again.
At the same time, he was wondering what explanation the government would inevitably come up with to explain his disappearance. Or perhaps they’ll keep it strictly confidential? Either way, no one would miss him. Adventurer. Swinger. Thrill seeker. One who worked his entire life and had no time for any relationships. Boredom made him pursue dangerous careers. Alex, his only friend, would perhaps lament a bit, but in the end, even he would follow his duty and duly keep his mouth shut… But the excitement of exploring the galaxy…The journey he longed for all these years was on his doorstep, and that was his biggest dread: for Vincent was not ready for it.
From up here, Sebalon 2 had another impressive view. There were few visible bodies of water, and the majority of the landmass was lit by its massive cities—which were larger than most of Earth’s countries. Thousands of ships soared to and from the planet. The setting sun appeared in the distance as it illuminated the surface of the other planet, Sebalon 1.
“It’s so advanced,” Vincent told Gaia, looking down at the wonders.
“It’s the melting pot of the galaxy,” she replied. “The Sebalon Systems were discovered hundreds of years ago, two planets with an adequate amount of oxygen and no intelligent life.”
“So whoever found it didn’t let nature take its time?”
She nodded and explained, “During the rule of the Galactic Federation, before the Republic, there wasn’t anyone to claim these planets. The rich folk from every corner flew here to open trade. The first planet, Sebalon 1, is an exotic getaway haven—one of the most beautiful in the galaxy with its crystal oceans and pristine fields. Only the wealthy can afford to live on that world. Sebalon 2, on the other hand, was the place where gambling was legalized for the nobility of its sister planet. Now, it’s the mega system we see today—a place where more than a trillion tourists flock annually.” She paused, glancing down at the planet, and then added, “Because of its vastness, the Republic can’t control who’s entering or leaving. With time, every criminal, pirate, and smuggler found their refuge on Sebalon 2.”
“Hence, it’s a perfect place for rebels to convene,” Vincent said.
She looked at him, her eyes sparkling, betraying the smile that she tried to conceal. “Yes,” she replied, “among thieves and brigands.”
“Everyone, hold on.” Spaide said, pressing the screen of a thin monitor. “We’re preparin’ to jump into hyperspace,”
Hyperspace. That word sounded to Vincent like the winning chime to someone who plays slots in a casino.
“Dagoneth has the destination locked,” Exander said. “Heradonn.”
“Is that far?” Vincent asked.
“Several light years.” Spaide jumped in to answer the question. “It shouldn’t take us more than few hours.” He grabbed the control arm and pulled it back. “Here we go!”
The ship began to vibrate. Then, the planets outside, the stars, and the vessels froze in place and then were slowly being rubbed away, leaving blotted trails of light behind as if a watercolor painting was being washed off. Vincent was transfixed in his seat without even being able to turn his head. A spiral lig
ht, a wormhole of some sort, began taking shape in front of them. And then the stars disappeared, and they entered that spiraling void.
After a few seconds, the pressure stopped, and the big man got up. “I hate flying,” he said.
“Let’s gather around on the deck,” Exander said.
“Dagoneth, inform me if there are any problems,” Spaide told the droid that attached itself to the wall beside the crew.
Vincent didn’t believe what he was experiencing. He continued staring blankly at the wormhole, at the energy waves and lines of light that twirled around their ship. He unbuckled his belt and neared the window. They were bending space; it was unbelievable.
“Saturn!” Exander cried out from the cabin. “Get over here!”
As everyone gathered around, Exander placed a round device atop the table that displayed a red projection. The image was that of a spaceship that looked like an aircraft carrier. It was not even two feet in total length, but it was detailed meticulously, displaying the ship’s numerous towers, cannons, docks, and its superstructure that was in the shape of a triple-layered pyramid.
“The Nomad,” Exander explained. “The flagship of General Na’ar.” He paused for a second, clenching his jaw as he pronounced that name. At last, he thought. I’ll finally get to meet that bastard. At last, I’ll be able to engage in the conflict I’ve been anticipating my entire life.
Damocles cleared his throat. “Continue,” he said, breaking the silence.
“There’s no possible way we can fly our ship inside without being detected,” Exander resumed. “They’ll hit the magnetic beam, and we’ll share the same fate as Duell. We must not fail, or else we can say goodbye to this movement of ours. Therefore, we must leave the Serpent on the planet and sneak inside the carrier through the loading zone.” As he spoke, he moved his index finger across the image, and it zoomed onto the back of the ship. “Na’ar’s quarters and the control room are not so far from the docks. That’s undoubtedly where they’re keeping the prisoner. Damocles, Saturn, and I will go in there and intercept him. Spaide, you will go here, to the location of the beam in that portion.” He moved his finger again and brought up a different section. “Set up time detonators in that area and some in the bays along the way. By the time you’re done, they should raise the alarm. Then, find your way down to the main bay and get one of their smaller fighter ships, one big enough to fit us all. If all goes according to plan, we shall rendezvous with you there at the precise time.”
The room fell quiet with everyone staring at Exander as if he were crazy.
“Wait a minute,” Spaide said, raising his hand, “wait a minute. How do I actually get one of the ships?” He winced. “What are they, cruiser dealers? Should I also make sure the ship has Lorinthian leather seats?”
“You know as well as I do that you’ve hacked into these types of fighters before!” Exander raised his voice.
“Yeah, like six years ago, before they modified ’em! They produce a new batch every year!”
Exander brought up his hand and rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, calmly stating, “This is serious, Spaide. We’ve no other choice. We must do this.”
“Okay, okay,” Spaide argued, beginning to pace. “You don’t think I know that? But you make it sound so easy, Ex, just like Duell. Do you think they’ll let us just waltz in there and get him?”
“No, we sneak in. Contact your affiliate on Heradonn and formulate a plan.”
“Right,” Spaide agreed and reached for the electronic device on his belt, but stopped at the last second. “What about the legion of troops on that ship, hundreds of Centurion commandos, and I’m not even talkin’ about the two Tel Kasar? Plus, it’s well over a mile from Na’ar’s quarters to the dockin’ bay. What do you plan to do, run there carryin’ Duell along?”
“We’ll have to hurry then, won’t we?” Exander grated. “We must do all of this in a matter of minutes before they enter hyperspace. Once we’re outside, you’ll blow up the detonators. It should give us enough time to come back to the planet where we switch ships and head to Urtan.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Damocles concurred.
“Sounds like suicide to me,” Vincent said, fully aware that nobody cared about his opinion.
“It doesn’t calculate!” Spaide insisted. “There won’t be enough time! We can certainly sneak in, but gettin’ out’ll be the tough part! They’ll blast off before you reach the docks!”
“And where am I through all of this?” Gaia spoke. “Remaining on the ship?”
“We must ensure your safe delivery to Urtan,” Exander said. “We cannot risk you getting caught.”
“My safe delivery? And what then? Await Urtan’s doom? Is it because I’m a woman? I cannot believe this bigotry! We must work together!”
“Well, what do you have in mind, your highness?” Spaide asked sarcastically. “Please enlighten us.”
Gaia straightened and said, “Hover bikes”.
“Hover bikes?”
“Every Imperial carrier is loaded with them,” Exander added. “What do you propose?”
“One can activate those bikes to follow the leader on autopilot,” she continued. “Three bikes should suffice. Let me come with you, and I’ll make sure they’ll be there in time for us to get Duell. Then we can meet Spaide at the docks.”
“Hmph,” Spaide scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning on the table. “And how do you suppose you’ll do all of this without breakin’ a nail?”
With a sudden movement, Gaia pulled out a small pistol and pushed the barrel into Spaide's chest. It was completed with such swiftness that not one of them could see from where she produced the weapon.
“I’m like my father in every way,” she said coldly. “Don’t be fooled by my formal attire, Dirsalian—I’ve killed men smarter and funnier than you.”
“You’ve lost your damn mind,” Spaide muttered as the fingers on his right hand began nervously twitching. At first, his eyes were filled with bewilderment, then with anger, and then with denial. How could a noble brat draw a weapon so fast? On him of all people?
“Stow your weapon, Princess,” Exander said. “Spaide has underestimated you. He has underestimated you a great deal.”
“I'm coming with you,” Gaia said, lowering her gun. “Whether you like it or not,” she added, looking at Spaide.
“I’ve heard of your heroic deeds.” The blonde Xenian eased. “I believe you can help.”
“So, you’ll take me with you?”
Exander nodded. “Yes, but you must not be seen.”
“Are you crazy?” Spaide exclaimed. “She'll get us all killed!”
“Do you have any better suggestions?”
“Damn it, kid!” Spaide turned around. He walked to the slit window and stared outside. “This is too much for me, I swear,” he muttered, clasping his forehead. He paced around for a few seconds more and then turned to Gaia. “We rescued you once. Do not get caught again.”
It was all like an interstellar circus to Vincent. The companions were in altercations over the forthcoming mission and continued screaming at one another while he just stood there enjoying the show. Spaide was the eldest of the group. Although he was a carefree daredevil, he seemed to be worried about his younger subordinates. There was a prudent warrior beneath the Dirsalian’s mask of frivolity: he wanted to make sure everything would go according to plan and that every safety precaution had been carefully thought of. Damocles was silent as ever, standing behind his brother who calmly staged the task as if it were a mere walk in the park. Gaia looked her most beautiful—defiant, tall and proud, with the fierce look of a fighter in her eyes. Her crazy antics surprised everyone—she was a combination of beauty and deadliness.
Vincent didn’t realize he was once again staring at this alien woman when she turned and met his gaze. It was as if she felt that someone was looking at her. Their eyes connected for a fraction of a second and a thin smile appeared on her lips. Vincent was st
ruck. He couldn’t turn away, so he just smiled in return. A feeling of seizure gripped his stomach as she looked away to continue her argument. He sighed in relief. If she hadn’t looked away right then, he would have helplessly continued gawking at her like some adolescent fool.
“Saturn, do you have guns?” Exander woke him up from his daydreaming.
“What?”
“Guns… do you have guns on your planet?”
“Yes,” Vincent replied. “Guns galore. We’ve a larger selection of weapons than I can possibly think of.”
“Good. It’ll definitely spare me the time. Just make sure you shoot.”
“Oh, I’ll shoot,” Vincent said with confidence. They were going to arm him. After all, they began to trust him. But they wanted him to kill, aliens maybe, but to kill nevertheless. He then realized he’d have to kill, perhaps even someone who’s just doing their job—a guard at the wrong place at the wrong time. But pity and hesitation seemed like symbols of weakness at such moments. He had to rid himself of these emotions and get back home no matter the odds.
While Spaide went to the cockpit, the twins led Vincent to the vault door at the right side of the cabin. Damocles pressed certain keypads on the monitor in its middle, and the door opened with a hiss.
There was a small room behind, its walls flanked with weapons: guns, grenades, rocket launchers, armor, and many other bizarre gadgets. Two large chests—probably filled with ammunition—were stacked in the corner.