by Justin Bell
Motion catches my eye. A green utility vehicle rolls slowly past the staircase to the main battle cruiser bay. A single Bragdon sits in the driver's seat. He's moving in the right direction. If I stay low behind him, he won't see me, and if I stay in his shadow, I stand a better chance of avoiding patrols.
I duck as I run after him and swing behind a stack of crates just as one of the hovering patrol vehicles eases past me. Their spotlight splashes on the surface of the crate just above my head as I break into a low slide. The light passes by me, scrolling down the smooth, metal surface of the large crate as the patrol ship continues its slow path towards the perimeter.
Two groups of Bragdon Commandos approach, duck underneath a resting shuttle, and ease their way around the slanted ladder leading up to the cockpit. I glance right to catch sight of the utility vehicle grinding along the ground on course to cross my path. Leaping to my feet, I run towards the vehicle with my mind racing. My eyes dart from shadow to shadow, then lock on the group of approaching commandos.
"What's that?" one of them shouts. The best laid plans...
"Intruder!" shouts another, lifting their plasma weapon.
When I darted towards the vehicle, thinking to use it as cover as it drove by, I clearly underestimated the well-honed night vision of these particular commandos. The treads lock tight on the vehicle, sending it into a slow sideways slide. I angle towards it, keeping it between me and the approaching commandos. Three of them open fire anyway, sending bolts of plasma hurtling over the sloped vehicle and forcing the driver to dive for cover. The angle of the shots sends them up into the air, skimming above my head, but I duck anyway.
As the next volley of fire hurtles towards me, I leave my feet to narrowly twist out of the way then strike the flatbed of the vehicle, coil my knees, and launch up into the air to flip twice. I somehow weave through another series of energy beams, then thrust myself out into a straight line to send my feet slamming into the lead commando, driving him back into two others behind him.
The group splits like a broken wave with several commandos spilling out to one side and three others scrambling in the opposite direction. I hit the ground, sweep up my plasma rifle, and punch three clean shots into two of the Bragdons stumbling to my left.
As another commando charges from behind me, I kick backwards. The contact causes him to stumble long enough for me to spin, firing wildly with my rifle. I see two more go down, with another three desperately clamoring away, before I turn towards the nearby shuttle and run.
Chunks of launch pad spin up around my feet as I run. I duck around the ladder, wincing as metallic clangs signal plasma shots hitting dreadfully close to my head.
"We have eyes on the intruder!" voices echo from behind me.
Alarms, warning lights, and bright spotlights explode to life all around. Beams of light chase after me. I arc left as two loud punches of noise burst from a watch tower, smashing divots in the metal plate at my feet. Two hovering patrol vehicles converge, attempting to catch me in plasma crossbeams. I throw myself forward into a tight roll, skimming just underneath as the ground puckers behind me under the double impact.
Coming up on one knee, I sight my weapon on one of the turbines of the left patrol vehicle and fire a full volley, sending rapid fire energy pulsing through the darkened sky. The turbine whines with the impact, and the ship tilts right, spilling one Bragdon from the open bay.
Trying to compensate, the pilot dips the ship back the other way, but I adjust, then fire again, blasting apart a second turbine. Sparks and jagged metal fly as the ship nosedives into the ground. As it impacts, it begins to fishtail, crossing into the path of the second.
I lower my weapon and race forward to skim just underneath the second hover car as it ricochets, bracing as the hot wind turbine blasts down over me, nearly stealing my breath. The two vehicles smash together behind me with the sounds of metal twisting and grinding and the pungent stink of spilling plasma fuel filling my nostrils.
A few scant seconds later, the fuel tank explodes, blasting the vehicles apart in a vibrant white plume of vapor and metal shrapnel. Up ahead two more shuttles are parked and just behind them I see the row of hangars, the middle one filled with the long range jump ship I'm looking for.
White blooms in my peripheral vision as a large chunk of launch pad buckles, then blasts upward, picking me up off my feet and tossing me end-over-end. I try to compensate in mid-air, but it doesn't work. I slam shoulder-first into the ground, my weapon flies free from my hands, and I roll clumsily to land flat of my back.
A patrol vehicle settles to the ground in front of me. The spotlight blasts into my eyes and face, and the wind from the turbines washes over me, stinging my eyes.
"Stay where you are!" one of the shadowed figures huddled inside the vehicle shouts. "We have you pinned down!"
A glance confirms that another utility vehicle is closing in on my right. To my left, a second vehicle rolls slowly towards me, flanked by a crowd of commandos. I'm surrounded.
So close, but so far. In another three hundred yards, I would have been at the door of the hangar. In three hundred and ten, I would have been up the ladder and in the jump ship. War is truly a game of inches, and it's a game that I just lost.
#
The patrol vehicle hovers straight ahead as I raise my arms awaiting the approach of half dozen commandos emerging from the darkness to my left. They all have rifles directed at me. The utility vehicle grinds to a halt on the opposite side. I glance over to see a Bragdon manning the rear cannon there as well.
My options appear to have run out.
"Keep your hands up, traitor," growls the nearest Bragdon.
"I'm betraying no one," I reply. He snarls and lets his weapon drop on its sling as he reaches up and grasps my hands. He pulls them down behind me and holds them tight to the small of my back.
"Back to prison with you," he whispers. The other five commandos draw in close, hovering around me, almost as if trying to get a better view.
"Like what you see?" I ask, my face flushing. "Enjoy your glimpse of the legend, boys. You won't get another one."
"Legend?" one asks, stepping forward and jabbing the barrel of his weapon into my stomach. "You don't look like a legend, girl."
"Haven't you heard?" I ask as they start to lead me back towards the entrance to the fence. "I'm the Child of the Stars!"
The group chuckles at my apparent joke. I stop walking.
"Hey!" the commando behind me barks. "No stopping. Keep walking."
Through the tall fence, my eyes fixate on the horizon and the pale blue sky of approaching morning. I didn't realize quite how late it was.
"No, I don't think so," I reply. "I think I'm done walking."
"Then maybe we'll knock you out and carry you."
"Suit yourselves." I reply.
He clasps his hands around his weapon and lifts it high above his head.
I draw in a breath, tap into that swirling warmth and dive headlong into it. My muscles unclench and my skeleton expands outward. In one violent, thrusting motion, my Bragdon form is swallowed up by the massive, broad-shouldered Reblon form. The whole transformation, fangs shooting from raw gums, pointed ears tearing from leathery flesh, bones snapping, twisting, and reshaping, happens so fast that I barely feel it. A moment later, I'm arcing upward, splaying my arms out wide, and roaring up into the sky as my fists pound my armored chest.
"What is this?" the commando behind me asks, stumbling away in shock. I turn on him first, slamming him down to the hard ground where his head bounces off the unforgiving metal plate. As I feel the encroaching crowd behind me, I lurch up and around, swinging my massive arm like a club. The head-sized fist drills into two of the Bragdons, sending them sprawling. I turn to face the rest, snarling, growling, and raging as I barrel through the remaining soldiers standing there.
"Stop right there!" a voice shouts.
I spin towards it, eyes narrowing at the shrouded form behind the rear-mounted
utility vehicle auto cannon. I leap as the weapon fires. The plasma skates just to my left, and in one furious hurdle I slam into the rear cannon. The support pylon twists, metal tears from its bolted foundation, and the gunner, the wreckage of weaponry, and I topple backwards to spill out.
I land in a crouching all-fours position, then shoot myself forward, running on hands and feet at top speed with my fur glistening in the shine of nearby spotlights and blowing in the wind. (Or, so I like to think. A girl has to have a little pride in her appearance.)
"Gun him down!" I hear someone shout. Why they gotta assume I'm a 'him'?
Pelting plasma rains down around me, chattering into the metal and concrete surface of the landing pad, but I'm hurtling past it. To my left the floating patrol car angles in. The three figures inside are aiming their weapons. I halt abruptly as gunfire splashes the ground ahead of me, then coil and leap as high up into the air as my massive legs will carry me.
Lowering my head, my shoulder slams into the front of the hover car to send it lurching to the right, then I bury my claws into the metal surface of the vehicle and haul myself up inside. Desperate commandos jostle each other and spin with their weapons trying to lock on me, but I'm faster and more brutal. I send them toppling in every direction out of the patrol car down onto the ground below.
As gunfire erupts from the nearby watchtower, I withdraw from the Reblon form by mere thought. As I draw back down into my slender, lithe Bragdon form, I wrap my long fingers around the controls of the vehicle. Just like that, I know how to drive it as my computerized brain swiftly accesses Braxis data banks.
I push the joysticks forward, twist the hover car around, and accelerate towards the row of hangars. Two more utility vehicles speed toward me to catch me in a crossfire. Auto cannons swivel up and around to open fire as I press the sticks down and send the patrol vehicle diving towards the ground. I push the sticks forward as far as they'll go, then lift my knee and kick forward to snap the controls off at the base.
Jumping from the open pilot bay, I land on the front nose of the vehicle, then launch myself off, narrowly avoiding a barrage of return plasma fire peppering the patrol hover car. As I flip through the air, the vehicle smashes down into the two utility vehicles. The explosion barreling up behind me, throws metal shards in every direction and scorches me with hot wind, but I manage to hit the ground on my feet and keep running.
The jump ship is right ahead of me, but plasma fire is echoing from all around. Utility vehicles, commandos, and a pair of patrol hover cars are converging on me from all directions. I hit the ladder and clamor swiftly upwards as the ground at my feet blasts apart with swift heated energy. Sparks pound the railing of the ladder as I scramble upwards into the cockpit. For one brief, fearsome moment, I'm afraid that there will be a full cadre of Bragdons inside the shuttle to scrap this brilliant plan before it's even properly hatched, but to my relief, the jump ship appears empty. Slinging myself behind the pilot's seat I slam the controls to shut the doors.
A sharp burst of plasma echoes inside the shuttle and white heat punches into my back, right at the shoulder. I lurch forward, slamming into the control console as the stench of burnt skin stings my eyes. I turn to see a Bragdon squirming his way inside, adjusting aim with his weapon, preparing to take another, likely more final, shot. I push myself away from the seat and duck down as the next blast pounds into the chair.
I'm lucky this guy isn't thinking straight. If he were considering his actions, he'd be shooting the controls to ensure that I can't take off. Instead he's just trying to end my life. I leap over the pilot seat, hit the ground, and jump for the Bragdon, though my entire right side is going numb as I move. The door behind the encroaching Bragdon slams closed, and he glances back for a brief moment.
That's all the time I need.
My foot collides with his chest, slamming him back into the angled wall where the door slammed shut. His weapon flies from his fingers, as I drive a clenched fist into his jaw, then follow up with a second fist to the side of his head. As he starts to slump to the ground, I swing over on top of his back and force him down even harder, pounding the front of his head hard into the metal grate by the entry door.
He lies still.
As a rapid fire series of metallic slams shakes the jump ship, I realize Bragdons are firing at me from much closer range, so I charge to the pilot's seat and swing into it. My right arm is still screaming in pain as I begin flipping a row of switches to ignite the bottom thrusters which kick off with a deafening roar inside the tight confines of the hangar. For the first time, it occurs to me that I have nowhere to go from here. The roof is sealed, and I am surrounded by Bragdon commandos who have orders to kill me.
Outside the canopy, I see more still utility vehicles lining up to aim their auto cannons towards me as the ship lumbers into a waffling hover position. I move my left hand to the weapons systems and engage the chin turret, walking the quad-barrel cannon along the row of utility vehicles. Sparks and smoke fly as two of my targets buckle and explode, throwing their drivers into high arcs.
"Let's see how this works," I say quietly to myself. Typically these jump ships thrust upwards to get enough clearance, but without the room above me, it's time to improvise.
I engage the rear thrusters to throw the ship forward. It jolts wildly as the belly of the spacecraft strikes the ground. Bracing myself in my seat to avoid spilling out, I compensate with the controls to ease the nose up slightly, trying to keep the thrashing jump ship under control as it threatens to tear itself free from my grasp.
Gritting my teeth through the pain, I force my other hand up to help stabilize the twin sticks as I ease forward accompanied by loud, metal on metal sounds and shooting sparks. It chugs forward to squeeze through the open side door of the hangar. Bragdons scatter for cover, trying to avoid being crushed between ship and ground. I hope the hull isn't being wrecked, that's all I can say.
Drawing a breath, I lurch forward with all my strength to make one last press on the controls. The ship, in turn, also lurches forward in one last desperate lunge towards freedom, snaking out from under the narrow opening and into the wide, empty area of launch pad in front of the hangar.
Chattering plasma fire opens up around me. Beams of energy smack into the rounded hull of the jump ship as I double check the rear sensors to verify that I'm clear of the hangar. Moving my hands to the secondary thrust controls, I slam that stick up. The jump ship groans for a frightening moment, then leaps straight upwards as the turbine revs up to a low pitch whine.
I return my hands to the stick, take control, and guide the Bragdon ship high up into the sky with the nose pointed towards the stars, bracing myself to hit lower atmospheric resistance before my break for Athelon.
As the ship rises, alerts blare in the cockpit, warning of hull damage, but the keyword is 'damage' not 'breach' so I continue rising in elevation, bringing the ship up to optimal atmospheric escape angle, the best trajectory for leaving the planet's orbit without, you know, tearing the whole ship apart.
One shrill blare seems louder than the others, and I realize just as the sky around me starts shifting from purple to black that it's a hailing frequency. Someone's calling me.
Should I answer? What good would that do at this point? I'm home free. I need to focus on busting free and getting out. But something nags at me. Some small kernel of worry in the back of my head tells me this isn't a call I can afford to blow off. I need to pay attention.
I accept the hail. On a small view screen on the console, I see Command's control room, then Command himself steps into view.
"I am impressed, young Northstar," he hisses with a crooked smirk on his face. "Never would I have thought you could have pulled it off."
"Well, I did. And I'm on my way to Athelon, whether you like it or not."
"Do as you wish," he replies. "Just keep in mind who you're leaving behind."
My arms freeze with my fingers locked on the controls. I glare down at the scre
en.
"What do you mean?"
He reaches off screen for a brief moment, then pulls a thrashing, shadowy figure into view. The camera catches a full view of Luxen clutched in the crook of Command's arm. He is struggling to break free but is clearly outmatched.
But it's Command's other hand that has me the most worried. In his other hand he clutches the long, curved, ornamental blade...the knife he tried to use on me not so long ago. His eyes narrow and the barbed points of his yellowed fangs emerge down past his lipless mouth.
"Safe journey, Brie Northstar. I'll be sure to take care of the boy while you're gone."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Why didn't I think of this? Why did I leave him? That scene, clear as day, plays in my mind. Like a hologram on a loop, Luxen charges towards the commandos while I fight to slip away. He is outnumbered and surrounded as he takes a stand against Command. How else could it end?
"I'm dispatching two low altitude fighters, child," Command hisses from the hailing channel.
"They will escort you back here. You will come in on the south landing pad on the capital building, disembark, and return to me, or I will slice Luxen's throat."
My hands tighten on the controls and almost without my even realizing it, they're adjusting the flight path of the jump ship to angle away from the lower atmosphere escape trajectory. The ship glides down through the air and banks back towards the capital building. Twin blips spark on the short range sensors, confirming the approach of two smaller ships heading towards me.
My escorts.
I flick my eyes back to the screen. Command sneers at me as his fingers tighten around the handle of the ornamental blade, flexing the muscles underneath his mottled, leathery skin.
"Don't do anything stupid," I say to the screen, as if I have any measure of control over this situation.