by Drew Avera
Brendle was saying something to Deis, or was it Malikea? He was pointing and barking orders, the men were trying to handle whatever task Brendle had given them, and Anki felt useless. She knew she shouldn’t feel that way, she knew she could help. She had been on a ship before she joined the Luthian Navy. She had skills usable for this kind of work, but she didn’t know what needed to be done. “What do I need to do?” her question sounded meek to her own ears, all of the confidence she demonstrated as a fighter meant nothing in the face of this kind of danger. It was ridiculous, and she knew it, but somewhere her confidence had been shaken and she was struggling to find it. She dared not wonder if she would ever find it again. Brendle didn’t hear her, or didn’t care. He looked caught up in his own thoughts, the actions of a man trying to save himself from the destruction he knew he didn’t have the strength to stave off. Anki took a deep breath and shouted this time. “What do you need me to do?”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the shouting woman. It was quiet enough she could hear her breath whistling lightly through her nostrils. A grin showed on Brendle’s face and he said, “Do you know how to run a prelaunch sequence?”
“Yes,” she answered. It was true, or at least it was a few years ago when she was salvaging Luthian ships. This one was different, though.
“Good. I don’t suppose you know how to bypass a launch sequence so we can skin out of here do you? We don’t really have time to sit out in the open like this.” Brendle was talking from the other side of the console, his hands rapidly moving about the surface as he tried to bring the ship back to life.
Anki looked at Brendle. He was hiding the desperation she knew must be going through his mind. She had never bypassed a safety parameter on a ship before, but she had salvaged a dead vessel by rerouting all of the safety protocols to a dummy switch. It worked like a bypass at the time, she thought. “I can try,” she answered.
Brendle inhaled sharply before responding. “Please do, and hurry. The Telran is minutes away from this moon’s orbit. If we can get airborne, then I think we can make it to the other side of this rock and takeoff with a nice barrier between us and them.”
Anki nodded and went to work. The ship was structurally sound, but corrosion was beginning to form on the unpainted surfaces. Moving around the bridge, she noticed a console with the name Replicade etched in an embossed pattern over the plated metal that didn’t seem to match the rest of the aesthetics of the ship, though. Someone changed the name of the ship, she thought as she removed the console and stuck her hands in with the rat’s nest of wiring. It had been a few years since she worked salvage, but it was hard to forget some things once you’ve done them enough. She found the wiring going to the launch computer and tore them from the bulkhead. It wasn’t the nicest way to treat the ship you hoped might save your life, but it was the most efficient way to get the bird in the air. Her fingers found the red and black wires going to the drive motor and twisted them together. She felt the electricity course through her fingers painfully, but she ignored it. Electrical burn treatments could wait. This ship needs to get airborne, NOW.
All around them lights began to illuminate, casting shadows in areas where several diodes had gone dark. It was apparent that upkeep of the ship hadn’t been a priority to Deis and Malikea. She wondered if they even knew how to maintain a ship. It was obvious neither one made a very good pilot, based on the landing she witnessed.
“How’s it coming?” Brendle asked. His fingers were darting across a screen, the glow of it illuminating his face in a pale blue.
“The drive is on,” she answered. Not only were the lights on, but she could feel the gentle jostling of the ship as the drive hummed deep in the Replicade’s bowels.
“Yeah, I’m getting engine data and flight controls now. Everyone, hold onto something,” he ordered.
Anki looked at the other men as Brendle took control of their ship. The Replicade shifted, tossing everyone into a dizzy dance as they tried to maintain their balance. It was a rough ride. It would make for a rougher crash, Anki thought, and this time she wouldn’t be cushioned in crash gel.
There was a forty-five degree pitch sending everyone forward. Anki slid on her legs and caught a console with her shoulder, half knocking the breath out of her. It hurt, but she shoved the pain aside. From her new vantage point she could see the screen Brendle was using to fly the ship. He was fighting to maintain altitude, but she knew, based on the terrain, he was trying to stay low enough to avoid detection. She wondered how many times he might have tried these evasive maneuvers. It occurred to her he might never have; usually ships fled the Greshians. She had never heard of a Greshian fleeing from another fleet of ships.
Brendle swore as the Replicade rolled hard left. For a second or two, gravity lost control of their bodies. The force of it took control again as they slammed hard to the deck. If the Greshians don’t kill us, then all the jostling the ship is doing might. “Have you ever flown a ship?” she asked, not realizing she was yelling at him.
Brendle turned to face her, his face a paler white than it was moments ago. His eyes were piercing, but gentle. “I’m not really a pilot,” he said. There should have been a shrug that followed, something that said he was kidding perhaps, but instead there was the sound of an explosion shaking through the hull of the ship. It crossed her mind that it didn’t much matter if he was a pilot or not. Things weren’t going in a very favorable direction for anyone onboard. Anki swallowed down fear and steadied herself against the ship’s console as another turbulent roll shook the deck beneath her feet. A klaxon sounded and for the second time in a single day, Anki knew she would die.
Chapter 22: Brendle
Feeling like you were about to die did two things. First, it made you appreciate each breath that separated you from the last. Second, it made you want to fight harder to extend those breaths. For Brendle, the only thing he could do was think fast and pray to the gods he could pull something from his sleeve to keep from dying. Thinking was easier said than done with the distraction of the crew screaming for their lives behind him. Was the turbulence scary? Of course, but maneuvering the Replicade wasn’t something he was familiar with and he needed maximum concentration to keep her aloft. There were too many peaks protruding from the moon’s surface that threatened to tear the hull of the ship from its frame. Never mind the fact that targeting lasers were painting the Replicade red.
Brendle drove the pitch downward, saying a silent prayer that the ship would not scrape against the rocky terrain and rip them apart. The downward plunge caused gravity to fall away for a moment. If not for the console, Brendle might have floated away from the controls, unable to bring the ship back under control, elevating lift, promoting another few precious seconds of life for him and the ragtag crew screaming behind him. A cliff appeared on the screen ahead of the ship. He reversed the maneuver, veering skyward, shoving gravity back towards the deck. He heard the sound of bodies striking steel, the shouts of anger or fear in the background. He couldn’t tell which because it all sounded the same through the filter of the beating heart in his eardrums.
He heard his name, but it was a distraction. He ignored it, shoved it away as his eyes focused on the screen, the controls, the imminent death behind them. The Replicade shuddered under them, quaking and jostling through the thin atmosphere of a useless planetary body. His hands fumbled at the screen, reacting to stimulus as it appeared. He didn’t question anything, just reacted. He was in his own world, shunning the despair emitting from the voices behind him.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“You’re killing us!” Malikea screamed. There was blood on his face and hands as the grey-skinned man pointed in Brendle’s face.
Brendle didn’t have time for this so he turned back around.
The hand gripped his shoulder again, forcing the only response Brendle could muster from the stimulus. As his body turned, his hands reached for the throat of his assailant. Pa
le fingers gripped tightly and lifted the man from the deck, feet dangled as a mouth gasped for air. Brendle had no intention of killing him, but he had to do whatever it took to save the ship. The idea of one man dying to preserve the group came into his mind. Disgusted, he shook the thought away and shoved the man towards the bulkhead, turning to face the screen again. He knew if Malikea was smart, he would give Brendle space to work.
Malikea’s reaction was anything but smart.
He charged Brendle, driving his shoulder into Brendle’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Everything began to fade for a moment as Brendle gasped for air. A fist was driven into his face before he even realized he was on his back. Everything was tinged in shades of bluish black and the taste of iron was on his tongue. Another strike on his face caused his head to bounce off the deck, the cold thud of his skull hitting a surface with no intention of being merciful. Brendle had to do something, control the ship as it launched skyward, exposed and burning hard. There was only one thing he could think to do to control the situation. He drew his weapon and drove it under the chin of his assailant.
Malikea stepped back, his feet on the side of a console as the Replicade flew upward. The man had the cold gaze of a killer in his eyes, but there was a hurt hidden beneath his yellow irises. “What do you think you’re doing?” Brendle snapped, half-turning his head to look at the controls and try to settle the ship into a maneuver so that gravity wouldn’t crush them to death. “I’m trying to evade the enemy and you attacked me.”
Malikea held no apology in his eyes. “You’re killing us,” he spat.
Brendle scoffed and pointed at the screen. “No. you see that vessel on the screen behind us? It’s painting a target on our back and is about to launch a full-scale attack right up our collective asses if I don’t get us the hell out of here. They are the one’s trying to kill us!”
Malikea went to step forward, but Brendle stopped him with his gun, leveling it at the man’s face. “Do it. Shoot me, Kelah Wa,” he said. The force of his words carried contempt meant for something else, but was directed right at Brendle.
“What? I don’t want to shoot you,” he said, manipulating the controls so the push of gravity settled in a way that at least made it easier to breathe. “What is Kelah Wa?”
Both men stared at each other in silence.
Anki stepped forward, her hands up. “Kelah Wa is the Lechun word for demon,” she said. “It was the harbinger of death for their religion.”
Malikea said nothing. It was affirmation enough.
“I’m not a demon,” Brendle said. “And I have no intentions to kill anyone on this ship. Now, if you’ll please leave me to piloting this trashcan, then maybe I can save us all. Anki,” he said as he tossed his weapon towards her. She caught it in midflight. It was risky letting someone who might shoot me in the back have my weapon, but she had to know it’s suicide to kill me now, he thought. “Please make sure I don’t get anymore surprise attacks.” He turned his back on them and focused on the controls as he programmed a series of evasive maneuvers, praying silently it wouldn’t come down to autonomous evasive techniques. With no one strapped in, he knew the risk was high of killing someone.
Anki held the gun in her hand, casually letting it rest against her thigh, refusing to point it towards Malikea.
“Deis is hurt,” Malikea finally said after a long silence. The tone was more reverent and less hateful.
Brendle and Anki looked towards the aft of the bridge and saw Deis lying unconscious. “Is he breathing?” Brendle asked.
“No thanks to you,” Malikea said coldly.
There was an entire argument looking for a reason to escape Brendle’s lips, but he choked it down. “Anki, can you please check on Deis. It might be a good idea to strap everyone in because this ride isn’t going to get any easier.”
Anki moved behind him as he moved his fingers over the control screen. Even with the transponder off, the Telran was still able to detect the Replicade. Brendle rubbed at the back of his head where it had struck the deck. He felt the early formations of a bump, the sensitivity of it increasing the more he touched it. “I need to get us out of this sector,” he said to no one in particular.
“How?” Anki asked as she knelt next to Deis. Malikea was next to her, holding his hand.
“There’s a gateway, unmarked, not too far from here. If we burn hard for it, maybe we can escape.”
“Can’t they just follow us?” Anki asked. She was fastening straps around Deis’ unconscious body now.
“Well, here’s the thing. I know the gateway is there, but it is invisible to the Telran because I hid it in case I needed to use it as an escape route. My original plan was to sneak off the ship in a transport pod, but that didn’t work out. Now, I have a ship that’s the right size and mass to make it through, provided we can hit it right and the Telran won’t be able to follow us without causing their ship to implode,” he said.
“You seem pretty sure about that, but this ship is probably double the size of any transport I’ve ever seen,” Anki said, not in a sarcastic way, but one that still had the lingering sentiment of a question.
Brendle turned and smiled. “Yeah, well I’m pretty sure if we can’t run away, then we’ll be dead either way.”
He turned back to the control screen and veered the Replicade in the direction that led to Key Lourna, the hidden gateway he erased from the records of the Telran several months prior. He had been lonely and depressed at the time. The idea of escaping the snares of the Greshian Navy had been appealing, but he knew he would never be able to return home if he carried through with the plan. Key Lourna, as he called it, was one of the smaller gateways in the sector, typically called a Service Station. It was designed to transport small ships for repair jobs in other sectors back when the idea of bridging the Alorian Galaxy’s vast worlds together seemed like a noble idea. My, how those progressive ideals seemed to backfire in a gloriously unfortunate way. He might not have ever pulled the trigger on escaping, but his idea to flee had not faded in all that time. If the Replicade could survive the jump then they might be able to see tomorrow. Maybe it was a happy accident, he thought. It was almost as if fate had seen this moment coming.
Chapter 23: Anki
Plans were fluid. It was what the Luthian Navy taught its sailors and marines in training. If you thought your plan was solid then you were wrong. Case in point, everything that was happening since the Seratora’s klaxons sounded. She thought she was safe, but she was wrong. She thought she could fight the enemy who had taken control of her ship, but she was wrong. She thought she could flee, but her transport was intercepted. It may or may not have saved her life, but the fact remained that her plan had failed. She saw an armed Greshian and her training took over, she shot at him using all of her skills and resources, but in the end she failed to carry out her mission. The fight ended in her surrender, one she knew was dishonorable to her people. She had been thrust into war to die for Luthia, not to concede to the enemy, yet here she was, fighting to survive with a Greshian at the helm of the ship she found herself on. To fathom the idea that both he and she were alive on the same ship wormed its way through her mind in the most annoying sense imaginable. When Brendle used her crashed transport to hail for assistance, she thought he was insane. She knew they were destined to die on that moon, the burning remains of the Seratora keeping them company until they breathed there last. His plan had the beginnings of a well executed rescue mission. A ship landed, yes, but now they were in more danger than they had been initially. Now, as she knelt next to Malikea as he held onto his husband for dear life, she saw the next phase of their would-be captain coming into play.
Brendle wanted to take a barely functioning warship through a small Service Station in hopes of transporting to another sector. The Replicade was at least twice the size and mass of the repair transports which used to frequent the Service Stations. His idea bordered on suicide, she thought. The worst thing was she couldn’t think of a
better plan that might save them. So here she was, riding a ship piloted by a man who served her enemy, and wishing him the best of luck in her heart because her lips couldn’t stand the taste of those words. Plans were fluid indeed.
“Are they still following us?” Malikea asked her. She had no idea, but she understood that he didn’t feel comfortable asking Brendle. The reminder of their argument still sat chilling in her fingers. She looked at Brendle’s gun and wondered if he knew how easy it would be for her to pull the trigger. She wondered why she didn’t, but quickly pushed past the thought and back to the question at hand.
“Brendle, is the Telran still chasing us?” Anki asked. Malikea leaned forward next to her, his arm nudging against hers.
Without turning around he said, “Yeah, more or less. It’s hard for them to get a lock with all these mountains, but I can’t keep these kinds of maneuvers up for long. This ship wasn’t designed for evading and I’m more than a little worried we might rip the wings off if we aren’t careful.” Sweat was beading on his forehead and upper lip. The moisture reflected the lights from the console and made his face seem to shine from the glow.
She noted how he kept saying “we”. It was at least a little comforting knowing she wasn’t completely alone; even if her companions were an odd Lechun couple who practiced a dead religion and, for lack of a better term, a Greshian fugitive. “What do you propose?” She silently hoped he had a plan, but hope was an expensive commodity, and the price wasn’t one she wanted to pay with regret.
Brendle shook his head almost as if he was arguing with himself. “If we can build up enough speed then I think we should shoot straight up and out of atmosphere, burn hard past the debris field of your ship, and hope there’s enough distortion where they can’t track us.”