Chickens

I got baby chickens!!! Here are two vids.

Multi-Missile Launcher Vote

I made two pics of one of the best weapons in my story, I'll add the weapon and vehicle list soon. But that is for later. Below is the URL to the pic. Once you are done, comment and vote.

http://aviary.com/artists/Manaphy/creations/mml_vote

Additionally, I shall add this:

Name: Multi-Missile Launcher (MML)
Used for: Killing huge masses of people
Used by: black market
Weapon type: anti-infantry, missile
Description: Medium size gun that fires 3 missiles that automatically seek out different targets, can be modified to seek out one target. The firing speed it incredibly fast, but the maximum is only 3 rounds (9 rockets). Unless you have a illegally modified magazine.

Vote ends on August 12, and you may only vote once.

FIFA World Cup

So freaking pissed that Germany crushed Argentina 4 to nil! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! But I was pretty happy that Spain won by 1-0 with Uruguay.

Story One

Oblivion

Chapter One: Heist

Raine Taylor

Madison, CT, Earth

October 20, 2004, Wednesday CE (Common Era)

A medium tall American high school junior sat in a seat in American Literature class, staring at the clock. He had a slight tan from summers past of going to the beach and constantly forgetting suntan lotion. He wore a grey sweatshirt, blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a MP3 player under the sweatshirt, one earphone in his left ear, and a bored, lethargic expression on his face. He was absent-mindedly twirling a pencil in his right hand, staring at his teacher, feigning and failing to hold a politely interested look on his face. “As you all know,” said Mr. Johnson, “Homecoming is in about one and a half weeks. Tickets are ten dollars and can be bought at the door. Oh, and please, please, please don’t get drunk there, okay? The janitors don’t particularly enjoy cleaning up after-alcohol puke.”

A couple laughs circulated around the room. The final bell rang. “Class dismissed,” Mr. Johnson said.

The junior A.P. American Literature class streamed out of the classroom and into the packed sea of kids on the third floor English Wing of Elm Hill High School. Raine slipped out of the door of his English class to join the river of teenagers. There was one line of people going one way and another in the opposite direction with the edges occupied by students stopping at their lockers. Raine edged down the hall, attempting and failing miserably not to be jostled by the passing packs of people. He reached his locker, rolled the combination lock, pulled out what he needed, and headed down the hall toward the stairs. Raine strode down two relatively deserted flights of stairs (Elm Hill High was notorious with the speed, lack thereof in their students) and slid down on the center railing, smoothly landing in front of the double doors. He walked out and got on his bus and waited for everyone else to board before they could leave. Raine slid into in seat in the fifth row from the back. At Elm Hill High School, social status dictated where one sat. Those of higher status sat further and further back, while those of lower sat towards the front. Of course, some eccentrics chose to break this cycle, but they were eventually estranged and in the many times they attempted to go back, they were rebuffed.

Since Raine’s ninth period class was close to where his bus was, he was usually one of the first on. Most of the students had boarded the bus before his best friend and next door neighbor, Russell Shomberg, got on. Russell, or Rusty, as he preferred to be called, was a diminutive kid with straight, dirty blond hair with a tinge of red (hence the name “Rusty”) and blue eyes. For someone as small was he was, Rusty was particularly strong, engaging in extra-curricular activities like wrestling and various forms of martial arts. Anyone who made fun of short people with a malevolent intent within his earshot often made fun of them again, unless of course, they were incredibly stupid. Rusty slid into the sit next to Raine. He groaned as he took off his backpack, massaging his shoulders at the same time. Raine cast an amused eye in his direction. “Damn… I’m never going to get all this homework done,” Rusty muttered. “Stinkin’ track meet goes until eight. Don’t know why I even joined…”

Raine laughed at his friend’s ill temper. “I don’t have a clue either. Why anyone would create a sport where all you did was running and jumping.”

“It’s good training for when I join the navy,” Rusty replied.

“I thought there was a size requirement or something,” Raine slyly commented. “Don’t you think you’re too short?”

Rusty glared at him. “Don’t push it. Not in the mood today.”

“Alright, alright,” Raine said, laughing. “Calm down.”

Rusty grumbled a bit more, then settled down and took out some homework. A couple more people filed in, some of the girls still wearing flip-flops while others were starting to change their outfits to more cold weather-oriented. Their pudgy bus driver, Jon, was reading a manga comic. Raine reached into his sweatshirt pocket and retrieved his MP3 player from amid the scraps of former handouts. He offered one of the headphones to Rusty, who took it and placed it in his ear. Raine turned to the maximum volume and played the loudest song he had. Rusty jerked forward, banged his head against the seat, dropped his books, and cursed loudly. The bus went silent and everyone turned their heads to look at him. Raine sat beside him, poorly stifling a laugh and a look of glee. Rusty punched him in the shoulder in ill temper and everyone else turned back to what they were doing.

In a short time, the bus was packed with people. A couple loud freshmen were arguing about a ninth period class (“Keep school in school,” Raine thought. “No need to contaminate freedom out here.”) Several of the more promiscuous sophomores who weren’t as worried out their academic career were eying some of the seniors and juniors at the back. Raine waved to get them to turn around and they collapsed in giggles (“Never could understand them,” Raine thought). Jon turned on the radio and started to drive down the curving road.

The fall foliage of Madison, Connecticut was in full effect. Gold, red, and orange leaves coated the lawns of the houses along Elm Hill Road. Several of the greener ones hung stubbornly on a few of the branches. A light, cool breeze swept the air, brushing the dead leaves into the road to be crunched by passing cars. A mother and her two young children were out for a walk to wait for one of the older siblings to come home. Raine settled comfortably (or as comfortably as possible) into his seat. The scratching of Rusty’s pencil and the rumble of the diesel engine slowly lulled him to in a deep feeling of rest, a bit more wakeful than sleep but just as refreshing.

“Dude, wake up,” said Rusty.

Raine jerked awake. “You’re home,” Rusty said.

“Oh yeah,” Raine said rather stupidly. He shouldered his backpack while Rusty waited for him to go first. Raine got to the front and stumbled down the steps, retrieving his balance just before he faceplanted into the grass. Rusty laughed quietly and waited for him. Raine went further down the road before bus drove off. “So, are you still coming over?” Raine asked.

“Yeah,” Rusty replied. “We still have that history project to do.”

“What about your track meet?” Raine asked.

“I can drive myself there,” Rusty said.

“Okay,” Raine said.

He took his key out his backpack, unlocked the door, and stepped into his house. “Just drop your stuff in my room,” Raine said. “Take my bag with you too.”

Rusty marched up the stairs while Raine went to raid the kitchen. He took a big bag of chips and four sodas and put them on a tray. Raine walked carefully up to stairs to the mess he called a bedroom. He scattered some papers on his desk to the floor, placed the tray on the semi-clean desk, and flopped onto his bed. The sunlight streaming from the window at the head of his bed glinted off a gold ring with a ruby inlaid into it on Raine’s right ring finger.

“Never lose this ring, my boy,” said Grandpa Ben. “It will help you when you need it.”

“Why?” asked the six-year-old Raine.

“Well it gave good luck to me as a little boy,” chucked his grandpa. “I want you to have it. Maybe the luck on it has run out, and maybe it hasn’t. It all depends on whether or not you believe.”

“Believe what?”

“Believe in luck.”

Raine looked at the ring, and then slipped it onto his thumb. “Ok Grandpa Ben.”

His grandpa chuckled, remembering old memories. “I used to always wear that thing whenever I filched cookies off the kitchen table. Now, let’s look at them tomatoes. Look’s like we’re going to have a nice harvest this year, aren’t we?”

Raine looked doubtful. “I don’t know, Grandpa Ben. They’re so little.”

His grandpa laughed. “Little things grow to be big things, if given half the chance. Always remember that, Raine.”

“Hey dude, you alright?” Rusty asked.

“Huh?” Raine said. “Oh yeah, sorry.”

The two friends then spent the next hour and a half arguing about the nuances of (HERE) (find out what juniors do here).

Holly Mardech

Alistar, Ceran Remnant

Stardate 452.81 AC (After Cera), 10/20/04 Arathian Time

“Concentrate, child,” said the teacher.

The rock wobbled in midair. “Focus. Channel your energies.”

A bead of sweat glistened and dripped down Holly’s cheek. A strained look was contorting the lines of her face as she stared intently at the suspended rock. The rock trembled again. “Steady…”

The rock wobbled a final time, then fell to the ground with a dull thud on the grassy tussock. The teacher sighed. “Well, I suppose I can’t really expect much more. You get on home and have some rest,” said the teacher.

Holly nodded, too exhausted to speak. Taking a bottle of water from a pack that she had thrown to the side at the beginning of her practice, she took a long pull and flopped down onto the grass. Unfortunately, this resulted in her spilling a bit of water on herself. “I’ll see you two days from now,” said the teacher getting up and smoothing his robes.

Holly stretched languidly on the grass. Clearing her eyes of water, she opened them and stared up into the vast, star-speckled expanse of space. Sighing, she rose up, shouldered her pack, and walked toward the city sector.

Abruptly, the pleasantly springy grass turned to the gray of the Plastoid city ground. Holly hitched her pack higher onto her shoulder. Taking out a PDA, she checked her schedule. “Report for flash-learning at 2000,” said the female computer voice.

After checking the chrono in the bottom-right hand corner of the PDA, Holly headed for the lobby of an apartment complex in the city sector. Waving a hand in greeting at the doorman, she proceeded to her room. Dropping off her bag in the first chair in her room, she turned on the refresher to cool mist. After cleaning herself up, Holly got into a clean jumpsuit. She hitched her bag onto her shoulder and exited her room. Taking one last look into the clear night sky, Holly headed for the flash-learning facility.

The city-ship, Alistar, whipped through space at 250,000 mi/hr with the Mor’skr and a protective guard of over 20 ships ahead and behind.

Raine Taylor

Madison, CT, Earth

October 21, 2004, Thursday CE

The continual buzz of the alarm clock awakened Raine. Reaching blindly, he hit the Snooze button. Sighing, he opened his groggy eyes. Swinging his legs over the bed, he looked at the alarm clock. Raine turned on his computer. Checking that his door was locked, he logged onto the Internet. When the alarm beeped again, he flicked the On/Off switch. After playing some games for about half an hour, he logged off and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

Around 7:00, Raine usually started breakfast. He met his sister, Natalie, on his way down. “Mind if you drop me off as school today?” he asked.

“What’d you do this time?” sighed Natalie.

“I think I might’ve offended Christine Olsland,” said Raine.

Natalie sighed again. “Ok, but this is the last time.”

Raine smiled inwardly. Natalie always said it was the last time. It never was.

After breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor came down. Raine hefted his bag and waved good-bye to his mom and dad. Natalie stayed back for five minutes to find her keys.

“When are you going to get your own car?” asked Natalie after she pulled out of the driveway.

“Why?” asked Raine.

“Because I don’t want to be associated with you any more than I have to,” said Natalie with a smile.

“Oh,” said Raine, oblivious to the smile. “I guess when I get to be sixteen. I overheard Mom saying that she might get you a convertible for your birthday and give me your car.”

“Really?” asked Natalie with a larger grin.

“Yeah,” said Raine. “So, can I have your car when you get a new one?”

Natalie shrugged. “Sure why not.”

Natalie took a right onto Wesley Parkway.

“Are you going to Homecoming?” asked Raine.

“Nope,” Natalie said. “I have way too much homework.”

“Oh,” said Raine.

“You have a date yet?” asked Natalie.

“No!” scoffed Raine.

“You better get one soon; all the good ones are gonna get taken up pretty quickly,” said Natalie.

She took a left onto Green Hill Road. Passing the middle school, she took a left into Elm Hill High School. Natalie pulled into the parking lot. She and Raine got out of the car and walked toward the front door. “We’re about fifteen minutes early,” said Natalie, checking her watch. “Well, I got people to meet. I’ll see you around Raine.”

“Yeah, bye. Thanks for the ride,” said Raine heading in the direction of his math class.

Holly Mardech

Alistar, Ceran Remnant

Stardate 452.82 AC, 10/21/04 Arathian Time

“You’ve finally decided to join us,” said the computer technician. “How nice.”

Holly didn’t reply, merely striding toward a vacant computer unit and strapped on a headset. Several minute needles dipped in anesthetic were inserted into her head. The anesthetic promptly knocked her unconscious. “Okay, Arathian History 101,” muttered the tech. “Arathian Weapons… Arathian Customs… Ah, here we are, Arathian History.”

The comp tech withdrew a small, white, 3 centimeter by 3 centimeter square of silicon and Plastoid. He inserted the memory disk into a small drive on the large computer unit. He turned around to a much smaller computer. He selected Unit 209 and clicked “Initiate Program”.

Holly’s only reaction was a slight stiffening. “Projected Program Download Time: 30 minutes,” murmured the computer technician.

Holly, like the others in the download units, fell into a state of consciousness just above comatose. This state allowed the brain to relax the most while new information was downloaded into it. The greater the amount of data, the longer the length of time for the download.

The tech heard a quiet shuffle behind him. Startled, he turned around. His eyes widened. “What the—”

The intruder raised a large pistol and fired a single shot. A dart whizzed though the air with a quiet hiss. The intruder quickly strode over to a desk storing data disks. Rifling through the desks, the intruder found a small, untitled disk. Pocketing it, the intruder quickly walked to the computer unit. Heaving the tech off the unit, the intruder selected an area in the city far away from the flash-learning facility. A window popped up, saying, “Are you sure you wish to proceed?” The intruder clicked “Yes” and was prompted by a five-digit code. He typed it in; Red Alert alarms sounded all over the ship. Platoons of armored troops clanked past the door. The intruder heard a pneumatic hiss and looked at the slowly closing door. Taking a running dash, he/she barely slipped through the door. A clanking of trooper boots echoed off the metallic walls. The intruder slipped into the shadows of a firing post. As a platoon of troopers clanked by, the intruder withdrew a stun grenade. Pulling the pin, the intruder threw the grenade at the troopers. A green, gaseous anesthetic was released into the air and the troopers fell down, unconscious. The intruder padded down a flight of stairs to the merchant’s hangar. As he/she bounded toward a small, Class-Five cruiser, the intruder smacked a button on his/her vest. The cruiser ran a quick self-diagnostic and lifted off the ground. The landing gear retracted and the laser cannons began to hum with energy. “Stop!” yelled a trooper. “An alert—”

The intruder didn’t bother to continue listening. Instead, he/she turned around and began shooting at the troopers with his/her pistol while the ramp was extending. The ship began lifting off. The trooper trained their laser rifles on the intruder and began to fire. Deep blue bolts of pure energy hit the cruiser. The intruder looked forward, jumped, grabbed the lip of the not-completely-extended ramp, and flipped himself/herself over. He/she smacked a button next to the ramp’s opening, the ramp retracted, and the hatch closed. The cruiser shuddered with the repeated fire of troopers. “Get us outta here!” the intruder yelled.

The cruiser began accelerating toward the main hangar’s door. The laser cannons blazed, spitting blue bolts of energy toward the door. The door crumpled like a tin can. The cruiser zoomed through the open door. The vacuum of space was quickly shut out by emergency safety equipment and the cruiser made good her escape. The intruder pulled his mask off to reveal a lean, masculine face with the beginnings of a beard. Striding toward the bridge, he entered the five-digit access code. A hulking man greeted him. “Dorran,” said the man, “the ship is detecting a large squadron of Ceran Morning Stars. Do you wish to make a jump for it?”

“Yeah, you do that,” Dorran said. “I’ll man the guns. No crazy shit, okay?”

“Yes sir,” said his first mate.

Don, one of Dorran’s younger crewmen, came running into the bridge. “Nara says that the engines were damaged. We’re only going at half efficiency. She also said that the computer systems were all screwed so now we gotta wait a bit longer to get those calcs for the wormhole together.”

Dorran growled. “Get the fighter prepped up. Tell Shawn to get up there and pull some heat on those Morning Stars.”

“Yes sir.”

The dock of the cruiser opened, expelling a small fighter. “Alright Shawn. Watch your six. Stars coming in at twelve, seven, and six o’clock.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” grumbled Shawn. “I see ‘em.”

The fighter zipped past the view port. Dorran turned to his huge friend. “Yurich, turn the ship around. I want to scatter those Morning Stars.”

Yurich smiled. “Right.”

Dorran got into the gunner seat and strapped on the over-head computer unit. Immediately, his mind’s view point was pulled into the front gun port camera. An earpiece allowed him to keep contact with the rest of the ship. A targeting reticle sat in the middle of his view. He wrapped a hand around both control sticks. A large group of Morning Stars was right in front of the cruiser. “Speed: 100 mi/hr. Laser cannons at full power,” Yurich muttered into his ear.

Dorran flicked open a switch, arming the energy torpedoes. He waited for the right moment, then pressed down a button on the right control stick. A blazing, blue missile was launched out of its port, right at the Morning Stars. The group scattered. Yurich pressed down another button on the control stick and the missile exploded, taking two unlucky Morning Stars with it. Shawn’s fighter flew through the explosion and took out another Morning Star. The rest converged on the cruiser’s position. “Great. Shawn’s having a blast,” said Yurich.

“What’s our status on that wormhole calc?” called Dorran.

“Almost finished!” Don called back frantically, fingers skating on over the keys on the computer.

“Well, hurry up!” yelled Dorran. “We don’t have all day! This is what I pay you for!”

A cloud of Morning Stars circled around Shawn. In his fighter, Shawn had ceased to think, allowing his instincts to take over. He let loose a series of mines and dove under the cruiser. The blast caught some of the Morning Stars but not all of them. Shawn twisted his fighter around and flew another of the Morning Stars, spitting fire and turning it into nothing more than a cloud of flame and shrapnel.

“Don!” yelled Dorran. “Hurry up!”

“Done!” Don yelled back.

A swirling, indistinct circle of color opened in front of the cruiser. “Shawn,” said Dorran into the communication mike. “Wormhole open and operational. Let’s bail.”

The cruiser appeared to lengthen. After a couple of seconds, it slipped into the wormhole. Shawn’s fighter broke off from the main battle. The mass of Morning Stars broke off from the main group to converge on Shawn’s fighter. Shawn released a couple of thermal mines. The mines locked onto the heat emissions of the Morning Stars and homed in on their position. The fighters exploded in a cloud of sparks and metal. Shawn’s fighter lengthened and shot into the wormhole. The wormhole closed behind him.

The Morning Stars broke off their pursuit. A sobering silence overtook the Morning Stars. The pilots began their trip back to the Alistar.

Chapter 2: Aftermath

Holly Mardech

Alistar, Ceran Remnant

Stardate 452.82 AC, 30 minutes after “Heist”, 10/22/04 Arathian Time

Holly sat on her bunk. The tranquilized computer technician was being questioned about anything he noticed about the intruder. Everyone else was instructed to return to their quarters. The Alistar’s militia was called out. Holly’s turn to patrol was in thirty minutes. The ship was on high alert. If anyone so much as opened their front door, motion sensors would activate all over the ship, sending a squadron of militiamen to the source of the alarm. Merchant ships were locked down, much to their owner’s displeasure. Investigation teams were scurrying all over the hangar’s docking bays and the demolished remains of the main hangar door. The tension on the ship was so thick you could cut the air with a knife.

Holly was just flash-learned so it took her brain a while to process and store all the information. Too much flash-learning could lead to a mental overload and shut down, rendering the learner brain dead. The standard flash-learning resting period was twelve hours but most teenagers and younger children could take less than six hours to rest their minds and be fresh and ready for another download. The psychologists said that it had something to do with their open-mindedness.

An alarm sounded. Holly groaned in displeasure. Shift change. She donned a trooper uniform, complete with battle armor, a communication system, environmental adjuster, and helmet. Holly took a laser rifle from a recess in her apartment wall next to the door. She smacked a button next to the door to open it. She nearly ran into Grand Admiral Narric, Captain of the Alistar and Commander of the United Ceran Fleet. “May I come in?” asked the admiral courteously.

Holly nodded, stepped back to allow him in, and pulled off her helmet. “To what do I owe this courtesy call?” she asked.

Narric walked into the apartment, sending a casual eye over the general disorder of Holly’s room. “As you already know, a Class-Five cruiser, complete with a well-trained crew, infiltrated the Alistar. They stole some vital equipment necessary for the continuation of our people that we need. We are assembling a crack team to retrieve the equipment and any survivors still aboard the ship. You were one of the members listed on the team.”

Holly raised an eyebrow. “Court-martial for excessive recklessness, association with pirates, use of illegal equipment, and privateering? And I was listed?”

Narric nodded. “Yes, your past record has been checkered, to say the least, Lieutenant, but the High Council believes that your unconventional thinking could be vital to retrieving the target. We have reason to believe that the Xerjic will attempt to buy the target.”

“And I believe that the Council knows that I will want to know exactly what I’m to retrieve and how big a task force the Xerjic will send?”

“Yes…” Narric said slowly. “The Council acknowledges your wish for further information. However, the information of exactly what you’re retrieving is trivial. The important thing to is bring the target back.”

“And what would you do if I said no?”

Narric shook his head and smiled slyly. “Then we would be forced to revoke your Medal of Valor, take away your Lieutenant’s badge, banish you from the Ceran people, and destroy all records of you ever being here.”

“Touché.” Said Holly. “Well, might as well.”

“Good. You are to report to the Valkyrie immediately.”

“And the rest of my team?” asked Holly.

Narric raised an eyebrow. “You are the team.”

In about ten minutes, Holly was strapped into the Valkyrie, her own Class-Five cruiser. In the small docking bay of the Valkyrie sat a small shuttle, bristling with all forms of laser, missile, and plasma weaponry. The gallery was stocked with enough provisions to last her a couple of months. Many of the food was flash-frozen for preservation and hydro-compressed to save space. The armory was stocked with a sniper rifle, several handguns, a fully automatic, mountable machine gun, explosive equipment, and several plasmite rifles, laser rifles, and other necessities, complete with full canisters of laser, plasma, and projectile ammunition. It was filled to the brim with fuel and energy reserves for the cannons. In short, this little ship was ready to take on an army.

“Base Alpha to Scout Alpha. Rear bay door is open, over.”

“Alpha receiving. Retracting landing gear and preparing for launch, over.”

Holly pressed a button to draw back the magnetic landing gear and activated her rear camera and put it onto one of the Valkyrie’s computer screens. A shimmering screen of blue plasmite energy pulsed on the screen. The bay door was open. Holly activated the Valkyrie’s rear engines and prepared herself for launch. She eased the left control stick forward and the Valkyrie lifted up. The inertia of the Alistar had a residual effect on the Valkyrie, jerking it slightly to the side. The gyroscope-mounted cockpit had a little wobble but on the whole was quite steady. Holly let out a breath. Many of the accidents generally happened during the launch. Holly stared out of the cockpit’s polished, plastiglass cover. The Alistar was retreating from her view. A message scrolled over one of the computer screens. It read: “Base to Scout Alpha. Data download in progress. Entry code is 603ZND. The main fleet will be leaving in about 15 minutes to Coordinates
(103, 14, 32), Altaris. Good luck on your mission.”

A beep signified the end of the download. Holly opened it up and was prompted by a window for the code. Holly typed in the entry code and a large document was brought up onto the computer screen. Holly read off the coordinates and raised an eyebrow. The projected path was far from her position, near a planet called Arath. What made Holly show apprehension was the fact that the people were unknown. The Cerans generally discouraged interaction with new races. More new information also made Holly worry. It said that the Twilight’s End was being blamed for the theft. Holly would need to find a way to get word to them to be careful. Holly scHollyd the rest of the document. A Class-Two cruiser, the Gorant, had sent out a wide-range distress signal and the Council wanted Holly to go investigate it, download any and all information aboard the ship, and rescue any survivors. The access code was 485221. “What am I, a zealot with a death wish?” sighed Holly. “Might as well get it over with.”

Holly instructed the computer to begin calculations for a wormhole between her position and the Gorant. A minute later, a swirling, blue mass erupted in front of the cruiser. Holly pushed forward on her control stick and sent the Valkyrie into the wormhole. The Valkyrie lengthened in its entry. “Wormhole between coordinates (62, 35, 45) and (23, 14, 45) opened. Percentage traveled: 1%. ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival): 45 minutes.”

Holly kicked back and relaxed. It was going to be a long ride.

Raine Taylor

Madison, CT

October 22, 2004, Friday, CE

“Overall, the performance was good. A little spotty on the here and there, but not bad,” said Mr. Miller.

Raine breathed out a sigh of relief. His test came back to him with “91” circled in red ink. Higher than he could possibly had hoped for. The bell rang, signifying the end of the day.

“Hey, Raine!”

Raine turned around, expecting to meet Rusty. Instead, he Samantha, a blond-haired, blue-eyed friend of his coming from history class. “Oh, hey Sam,” said Raine. “What’s up?”

“Are you going to go?” asked Sam hopefully.

Raine shrugged. “Maybe. Why?”

“Well I was wondering…”

“Yeah, I’ll go with you if you want.”

“There’s going to be a karaoke contest,” said Sam excitedly. “Would you…”

“No,” said Raine flatly. “I don’t want to enter a karaoke contest.”

“C’mon,” begged Sam. “It’s going to be great. You sing really, really good, you know?”

“No,” Raine said again. “I don’t like singing. We’ve been over this.”

Sam was constantly attempting to get Raine to sing. Raine, although he sang really well, didn’t particularly enjoy it. To understand Raine, you must first learn a fundamental aspect about him: He doesn’t like attention. He really, doesn’t like attention. He really, really, really, really doesn’t like attention. O.K.? Why, you ask? Well, Raine wasn’t comfortable around people of high status. This was due to the fact that he froze up whenever he came into contact with a celebrity or something. This happened a lot because his father worked with them on a regular basis. John Taylor, Raine’s dad, worked as a commercial salesman for a clothing company. His job was to get celebrities to endorse his company’s products. Mr. Taylor was very good at it and so was able to live in relative tranquility and wealth.

Raine, on the other hand, never developed his father’s ability to deal with important people. He also never wanted to be a famous music or movie star. He didn’t like the idea of having cameras and nosy reporters bugging him 24/7. He’d much rather be an average person out of the limelight. A simple life appealed to him.

Little did he know that his life wasn’t about to stay that way for long.

Chapter Three: Arrival

Holly Mardech

Coordinates 23,14,45 (Near the Gorant)

Stardate 452.82 AC, 10/22/04 Arathian Time

The computer beeped, awakening Holly from a light slumber and signifying that the journey was three-quarters over. Holly sighed and got up from the command seat and walked over to a control panel. She frowned at the lack of power given to the weapons and shifted some power from the engines over to the weapon systems. Immediately, the ETA counter went up about 10 minutes. Holly checked the reserve power and dumped all of it into the shields. She then went to the weapons hold and examined the guns there. She selected two pistols, an assault rifle, a couple grenades, and a long knife. “This should be enough,” she muttered.

Holly then put together a survival pack stuffed with three-days rations, ammo cartridges, a coil of rope, and some other odds and ends that she thought might be useful. She also took a couple of first-aid kits. Holly gathered her weapons and the survival pack and placed them into the hold of the small shuttle in the Valkyrie’s hangar bay. The shuttle was neither as fast, nor as powerful as the Valkyrie, but it was equipped with an esoteric cloaking device that could only cover a small area. It was too heavy for a person to use but just right for a small shuttle.

The computer beeped again, signaling to Holly that it was about to come out of the wormhole in five minutes. Holly sat back into the command seat, locked the cockpit with a six-key access code, and readied herself for an ambush. The ship’s instruments were still useless due to the wormhole’s dense inner surface and the speeds at which the Valkyrie were going would have ripped the antennas and receivers off if Holly chose to extend them anyway. Holly’s gaze caught the ETA meter. “One minute,” said the computer in its mechanical-sounding voice.

Holly quickly checked the control panel to find any last problems. “Thirty seconds,” the computer informed her.

Holly began powering up the detection instruments and weapons to full power, preparing them for exit of the wormhole. The ship began to hum with additional machinery. “Ten seconds and counting,” beeped the computer. “Nine seconds.”

Holly’s palms began sweating. “Eight seconds.”

Her grip on the control sticks tightened. “Seven seconds.”

Various clicks emanated from the missile silos aboard the ship as ballistic weapons were readied. “Six seconds.”

The humming grew louder as the laser cannons reached their full power. “Five seconds.”

A large white hole could be seen in the distance, rapidly approaching. “Four seconds.”

Ammunition began heating up in the energy tanks of the plasma cannons. “Three seconds.”

The hole grew larger and larger. “Two seconds.”

The Valkyrie approached the threshold of real space. “One second.”

Holly’s ship shot through the white hole. “Reentry into real space complete,” beeped the computer.

A large ship loomed in the distance. Holly quickly deployed some electromagnetic pulses in case there were any unfriendly opposition. She encountered… no one. “Hmm… strange,” she muttered.

A hail of laser fire raked the top of the Valkyrie. “Ah, so there they are,” she commented dryly.

The shields held intact and the power drop was superficial. A swarm of small fighters converged on Holly’s position. In the distance, she saw a Class-Four cruiser spitting out missiles. “Just great.”

Holly dove the Valkyrie under the fighters and launched a homing bomb in their direction. The heat generated from the fighters drew the bomb toward them. The bomb exploded at the back of the group. Matter from the shattered fighters were drawn into the bomb and exploded again. “Better not mention that little toy to the commander,” Holly muttered.

The fighters all changed directions and flanked her. Laser fire raked the shields and the ship rumbled from the residual kinetic force of the energy bolts. Holly released several proximity mines that blew up when the fighters were within range. An unlucky few were caught in the explosion while the rest veered out of the way at the last minute. A missile hit the side of the Valkyrie, throwing down the shield percentage to 74%. “Great,” Holly said.

A wall of missiles were heading her way. Holly switched directions to avoid running right into them and released a heat-emitting decoy. The heat-seeking missiles converged on the decoy. Several of them exploded upon impact while the rest were caught in the blast radius. Holly knew it wouldn’t be long before the cruiser readied another salvo but she still had to deal with the fighters. She turned the Valkyrie to face them and fired laser bolts straight into the heart of the group. One of the fighters exploded spectacularly, causing some of others to get damaged as well, and Holly flew above the hellfire of fuel explosions and fighter shrapnel. All that was left to do was to finish up the cruiser.

Holly looked around. A wormhole was closing in the distance. The cruiser was gone. She turned her scHollyrs toward the large, derelict ship. A window popped up on her computer. “You have come across the database and log of the Gorant,” the computer beeped. “Please enter your six-digit access code.”

Holly typed in “485221” into the field presented. “Thank you. Commence download of the Gorant’s files?”

Holly clicked “Yes” when prompted. Another window popped up with a download meter. She gazed back at the ship. “Computer, scan the Gorant for multi-cellular life-forms.”

“Scan commencing,” beeped the computer.

After a minute or so, the computer beeped, “Scan complete. Twelve multi-cellular life-forms.”

“Bring up the complete scan map,” Holly ordered.

Another window opened on her already cluttered computer screen. It showed a rough map of the Gorant in addition to the Class-Three cruiser under infrared, ultraviolet, and X-ray scans. The computer zoomed into an area near the aft of the Gorant. “This is where most of the life-forms appear to be,” beeped the computer.

“Put the ship on stand-by. Keep the shields, automated weapons, life support, communications, gravity-control, and computers on. I want everything else off,” Holly ordered.

The lights dimmed. Holly strode to the shuttle that she affectionately called the Shade due to its cloaking ability. She keyed in a six-digit access code and made a quick diagnostic of the ship, readying it for launch. Holly set a communication link with the computer aboard the Valkyrie to keep in touch with it. She pressed another button and a metal box lowered over the Valkyrie. The bottom opened into space. A blue plasmite shield activated, protecting the interior of the ship from the vacuum. Holly lowered the Shade to appear under the Valkyrie’s belly. She then activated the cloaking device. To the outside eye, the Shade shimmered, then disappeared. The one downside to the cloaking device was that it took vast stores of energy. Thus, the Shade had to travel at a slower-than-usual pace, power down the weapons, and lower the shields to a quarter of its full power. Holly activated the laser cutter that she had put aboard the Shade in one of her previous missions. She flew toward the aft of the Gorant and positioned the her ship to cut a small, impromptu docking bay. The laser’s intense, focused energy was directed into the hull of the Gorant. Holly cut a small square from the side. Immediately, the square was sucked out with the innards soon followed. Soon, a plasmite shield hovered over the area. Holly frowned. The ship still had power and the emergency equipment was still working. Why hadn’t the ship gotten away using the emergency power to the engines?

Holly flew the Shade straight into the hole. She activated the landing gear and put the shuttle on stand-by. Holly strode to the cargo hold and palmed open a door. A pair of 8 feet tall Atlas-Class armored mechs were inside. Titanium alloy incased the mech, allowing it to withstand incredible pressure and heat. An air pack and filter was strapped to the back, allowing travel through water and space. Jets strapped to the torso and legs let the operator fly short distances. Lights on the shoulders and infrared, night-vision, zoom, and x-ray scopes allowed the operator enhanced vision. In addition, the mech was equipped with a Hellfire missile pack and two machine guns on each hand, an arsenal that was not to be laughed at. The HUD (Heads-Up Display) showed four screens in each corner. Each of the screens could be instructed to show the information on separate computers. The Atlas was also outfitted with a tracker that easily allowed the user to find his/her position on an electronic map.

Holly palmed open the back of the suit and a panel opened. She stepped in. The mech’s computer detected its operator and closed the back panel. The computer lowered a headset onto Holly’s head and a comlink lowered. “Run diagnostic,” Holly commanded.

The computer whirled for a while. “Diagnostic complete,” beeped the computer. “All systems running at full potential.”

“Set Link Alpha to the Shade. Set Link Beta to the Valkyrie.”

“Link Alpha and Link Beta are set.”

“Set zoom to 120%, charge up the night-vision scope, ready Hellfire missile pack and load machine guns.”

After a bit of whirling and clicking the computer beeped, “Zoom set, Hellfire and machine guns loaded.”

Holly stepped out of the small room. She walked toward the back of the cargo bay and retracted the glove for her right hand. Holly palmed open the door and let the glove cover her hand again. The bay door hissed and retracted. “Run atmospheric scan for human endurance,” Holly muttered.

“Atmospheric pressure is within the range of human endurance. Gas levels are fit for human consumption,” beeped the computer.

“Survivors could be human,” Holly muttered.

Holly switched the upper-right screen to show the computer on the Valkyrie. She located her position. “Good. In the general area.”

She turned to the left, in the direction of the lifeform signals. Holly walked forward, encountering no resistance. When she got down to the end of the hall before she experienced her first set-back. The hall was blocked by rubble. Holly sighed. She had brought no laser cutter with her; it never crossed her mind that she might need one. “So close,” she muttered.

Holly checked the screen again. “Computer, zoom in on the Valkyrie’s computer screen.”

The image instantly grew larger. “Measure distance between Target Alpha and my position.”

A line spread between the two points. “Ten meters?” Holly muttered.

She raised a hand to lower her visor and knocked on the rubble. “Is anyone on the other side? This is a Ceran rescue operative.”

Holly heard a faint knock. She smiled. “Alright. I want you to stand back. I’m going to try to blast this rubble away. Do you want me to commence firing? If yes, knock once. If no, knock twice,” she said.

After a pause, the person on the other side knocked one time. “Okay,” Holly called back. “Brace yourselves; this is a Hellfire missile pack and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

She waited five seconds for them to move out of the way. “Okay, I’m going to commence firing. If ready, knock once. If not, knock twice.”

There was a short pause; then, she heard a faint knock and some scampering. Holly backed away. She lowered her visor and the HUD came back on. A targeting appeared on the screen. Holly raised her left arm and used her right hand to steady her aim. She back away another five steps. Holly took a couple of steady breathes. She fired a salvo missiles at the barrier. The barrier exploded. Within the contained hallways of the Gorant, it wasn’t likely that the ship’s hull would experience any damage. She looked into the small hole that she blasted out of the wall. Holly switched on her night-vision and infrared plates. Instantly, she was greeted by a world of green and white world supplemented by the red, yellow, orange, and white shapes of the survivors of the Gorant. One of them stumbled toward her. Holly raised her visor and activated the lights. A bloodied, pale face was the first thing the she saw. Noticing the captain insignia on the uniform suit, Holly straightened up and saluted. “Lieutenant Holly Mardech reporting.”

The captain waved a hand. “At ease, lieutenant.”

He looked around at Holly. “Is this it?”

Holly looked apologetic. “Yes sir.”

“10, lieutenant. That’s less than a tenth of the full crew. 10 of my crew is left of 103 personnel,” the captain said, shaking his head.

Holly stood in silence, not sure exactly what to say. “Well, got a ship? We might as well get out.”

Holly nodded. “Yes sir. I docked a small shuttle nearby. It’ll take us aboard a Class-Five cruiser. With a bit of squeezing in, we should be able to fit everyone.”

The captain nodded. “Private Willows!” he called.

A tall, dark man stood up. “Yes Captain Milan?”

The captain pointed at four other survivors. “Follow Lieutenant Mardech to her shuttle. Get everyone aboard and start up the ship.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Holly said, “I would like to take control of the ship myself.”

The captain stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “Very well, lieutenant.”

With a bit of pneumatic hissing, Holly twisted around and headed back the way she came. She wasn’t sure that she liked the captain. Willows followed Holly with an entourage of four more people. Holly pressed a button on her right arm. The glove retracted to reveal her hand, which she pressed against the lock coded with her DNA. The door hissed open and Holly directed Private Willows and the other four survivors into the shuttle. Holly went in as well, closing the door as she went. She struggled out of the Atlas suit and settled it into a corner. Holly took the controls and flew it back toward the Valkyrie. She turned to Private Willows. “When we get back, I want you to turn on the long range sensors. I got into a spot of trouble a while back. If you detect any ship at all, turn on the shields and get the guns manned.”

Willows nodded. “Understood Lieutenant.”

Holly hurriedly docked the Shade into the Valkyrie’s holding bay. She opened up the door to let the survivors out. Holly got on the megaphone and yelled, “Okay. Get inside and don’t touch anything without a good reason. Willows, don’t forget what I told you.”

Holly reversed out of the holding bay, pressing a button to close the bay door as she went. She flew the Shade as fast as it could go toward the docking bay she had cut into the Gorant. Captain Milan and the rest of the survivors were standing just outside the doorway. Holly put the Shade on hover, opened the bay door, and unhooked herself out of her seat to go meet them. She looked slightly tense. “C’mon,” she said. “Strap yourselves in.”

Milan looked concerned. “Trouble?”

Holly shrugged. “Not sure. Just a feeling. I told Willows to get ready and—”

The ship shuddered. Holly groaned. “Oh sh—”

Another hit. Milan turned to a survivor with a sergeant’s insignia on his lapel. “You did get those charges planted like I told you too, right?”

The sergeant nodded. “Yessir.”

“Good,” Milan said. He turned to Holly. “Take the controls and get us outta—”

Another impact, this one closer to them. Some of them fell down. Holly staggered, then straightened up and ran for the cockpit. She heard Milan yell, “Someone man the guns!”

Holly palmed open the access door to the cockpit. The fingerprint scan recognized her hand and opened up for her. Holly slid into the command chair and strapped herself in. She placed the neural helmet onto her head. Instantly, her mind was flooded with information. She extended the visor to protect against flashes of light that could blind her. Holly checked the 3-D radar; six Xerjic Marauders were on the radar, red blips signifying where they were. The Xerjics were spread out in a sphere shape around the Valkyrie, eliminating any chance of escape. Holly looked for the largest gap in the formation and flew toward it. Instantly, the Marauders converged on her position. “This is not looking good,” Holly muttered.

Holly twisted her mouthpiece to point toward her. “How we doing with those guns?” she asked into it.

A pause, then a voice, slightly distorted by the machinery, said, “They’re ready when you are.”

“Right, fire at will.”

The two turrets above and under the ship began firing. The Marauders spread out as the lasers lanced toward them. Holly had her opening. She twisted the control stick to turn around the ship, pursuing the Marauders. The artificial gravity aboard compensated and Holly felt none of the gravitational pull that normally would have crushed her into her chair. As she leveled out, Milan entered the cockpit. “I thought I locked that door,” Holly said.

“Guess not,” Milan replied, taking the co-pilot controls.

Another couple of laser bolts hit the Valkyrie. Holly heard a couple of keystrokes and some frantic muttering from Milan. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

A gigantic explosion caught Holly’s eye. “What the—” she began.

“I destroyed the Gorant and all that was left of the information on it,” Milan said calmly.

There was short period of time where nothing happened. Both parties were too surprised to react. Holly decided to put a stop to that. She opened up on of her emergency coordinates and plotted a wormhole course from her position to the coordinates. The wormhole began opening up. Holly started up the Valkyrie for the wormhole.

Unfortunately, the Marauders began to come back to life as well. Holly noticed several missile blips on the short-range sensors. She twisted the Valkyrie in an elaborate spiraling flip, but an electromagnetic shockwave hit the ship. The Valkyrie stopped for only two seconds before the emergency systems responded, but those two seconds were dire. “Oh shit,” Holly muttered.

“Brace for impact!” yelled Milan.

“Do you know how clichéd that soun—”

The missiles hit the ship. Milan fell out of the chair. He picked himself up just as another salvo collided. His head hit the arm of the co-pilot’s chair. Cursing, he got up again. Over her earpiece, Holly heard frantic keystrokes. “What’s wrong?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“That last salvo hit our life support systems and wormhole engines,” said a slightly hysterical voice. “We’ve got barely three hours left on the oxygen tanks and we can’t open up a worm hole to get us out of here.”

Holly bit her lip and swerved the ship out of the way of another barrage of missiles. She flipped a plastic cap off a large red button and put her hand on it. She hesitated, then leveled a stare at Milan and said, “If I activate this, you can’t tell anyone about this.”

Milan looked at the button with slight apprehension. “Alright.”

Holly hesitated another second, then pressed the button. To the outside eye, their was a big explosion. The flash momentarily blinded the Marauders. The Valkyrie shimmered, then disappeared into nothingness. Holly powered down the ship. There was a couple seconds pause. Then, worm hole opened up and the Marauders slipped through. On the inside, however, nothing seemed to have changed. Milan looked confused. “What the… What did you do?”

Holly sighed. “The Valkyrie is equipped with a stolen cloaking device.”

“But… but… that’s illegal!” Milan sputtered. “Where did you manage to get one anyway.”

“Through a series of long, usually boring, and sometimes dangerous adventures,” Holly said irritably. She waved around her. “We’ll just have to wait for a bit to make sure that they don’t catch us.”

The artificial gravity was shut down and the crew members began reacting to the absence of gravity; some of them immediately responded by vomiting. After about a minute, Holly restarted the ship. Electronics began humming again and the weapon systems began pumping energy back to the guns. Holly turned on the loudspeaker. “Okay, someone give me the closest Ceran ships,” Holly said into it.

A pause, then a voice said into her earpiece, “The scopes don’t detect any Ceran ships nearby. Everything is out of SOS range.”

Holly quietly cursed. “Okay then,” she said. “What about any space stations out there? There has to be one, even if it’s a smuggler’s outpost.”

“Negative,” replied the same voice. “We’re just too far out.”

Where’s the nearest habitable planet? I don’t have any vacuum suits and we need to repair the outside damage.”

Holly head a couple keystrokes over the earpiece, then the same person saying, “Closest planet is named Arath. The atmosphere there will sufficient for us.”

“Is there any other planet that we can get to on sublight engines?”

“Negative. Arath’s the only one. The Gorant’s wreckage is a bit out of the way. This closest solar system is one called Alpha Centauri, and that’s way too far away for us to go on sublight engines.”

Holly let a long breath. “Right. Look for anywhere where we can touch down for a safe landing. Give me coordinates.”

“Roger that.”

Holly received the coordinates for Arath and punched them into the ship’s autopilot. She then released the straps of the chair and closed her eyes to relax for a bit. Milan looked slightly apologetic. “Sorry about all this,” he said.

Holly sighed. “It’s nothing. I’ve been worse off.”

Holly stared off into space. She saw a small, bluish-white planet pass by the cockpit with a larger, sea green one past that. “You know,” she said. “We’re might be on Arath for a while. My mission was hinted at being a black project so I doubt that we’ll be receiving any aid. What exactly did you have on the ship that’s so important?”

Milan’s face darkened. “Well,” he began. “I really shouldn’t be telling this, but I might as well.

“The Gorant was housing some information on genetic manipulation. Only the highest military officials know about our project. Even Chairman Maximilian Aurelius doesn’t know about it. We were experimenting on various bacteria, viruses, and fungi. The project was a complete success, if it weren’t for the escape of one of our subjects. This subject, codenamed RX-22, was a sort of merge between a virus and a fungus. One of the holding compartments of RX-22 we were testing exploded. The infected shards flew everywhere and infected all of the scientists. This particular fungus was fairly weak in the beginning, but we hadn’t realized the success of the project. The genetic manipulations accelerated the reproduction rate of the virus. It would attack one cell and a million others would be infected. RX-22 attacks the victim’s nervous system, rendering our scientists unable to control their movements. Their arms and legs were the first to go. RX-22 slowly wormed its way toward their brains. Eventually, all of the scientists were taken over and their most primal instincts came out, namely the will to survive, greed for food, and destruction. The victims responded to nothing besides these primitive impulses. They had no will left in the matter. We had them quarantined, expecting their immune systems to kick in and fight of RX-22 long enough so we could have a some time to experiment and possibly cure them. In two days, the victims were completely controlled. Originally, the signals that the (HERE) sent caused mass deaths in the quarantined area. We couldn’t send anyone to break up the fights without endangering further lives. We received reports that Xerjic were coming to invade our research depot. All the survivors were lifted off-planet on the Gorant. We cannibalized the other ships to add further armaments and downloaded all the information we could onto the ship’s computers without damaging the mainframe or slowing down its processes. We began the self-destruct sequences of the research lab and lifted off. We left the planet’s gravity just as a wormhole opened and a Xerjic attack lance emerged. We barely got out with our lives. Our shields went down and the hull took some serious damage. We just got a wormhole opened when we took a hit. Our sublight engines were down but our wormhole engines weren’t. A couple of the faster ships followed us into the wormhole as well. When we got out, we took a last couple of volleys before we were able to drop our pursuers. Only problem was that our ship was too battered to attempt another jump. The hull was being held by spit and prayers when you came around. I was surprised that any cuts into the ship didn’t cause it to collapse. So, here we are.”

Milan stopped and stared off into space. Far away to the right, a big, red and orange planet with a distinct roiling hurricane of movement could be seen from the Valkyrie’s cockpit. Holly checked her instruments and said, “We got about two hours left before our life support gives out. I got some emergency oxygen tanks but they won’t last more than a half hour with all the people we have. Might as well strap in. Asteroid belt coming up.”

Milan hooked his belt back together and took a long swig of water from a canteen at his side. Holly said into her mouthpiece, “Alright people. Strap in, we’re in for a rough ride.”

A large sphere of rock appeared on the scopes. Holly lowered her speed, slow enough for a master pilot to navigate the highly agile Valkyrie through a treacherous field of rocks but fast enough that a single mistake could cause all of them to end up as a bloody smear on a space rock. “Shouldn’t we slow down a bit?” Milan asked nervously.

“What for?” Holly asked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Milan gulped fearfully. Holly switched to manual control and aimed the nose of the Valkyrie between two large asteroids. As the Valkyrie entered deeper into the field, the two rocks collided, leaving a small field of dust and small chunks of rock. Milan seemed hooked to the view from cockpit. Holly turned the Valkyrie to the right to edge between two more rocks. The artificial gravity lowered to compensate for the change in direction. She then flew above an asteroid, dove under another, then spun the ship to the left side to pass between two more chunks of rock. Holly charged up a plasma shot, then released it. Milan watched as it raced against the ship, seeing which would reach its target first. The plasma shot barely won; the asteroid shattered into dust and Holly flew through the dust cloud, barely scraping her paint. “How much farther?” Milan asked nervously.

“Shut up and calm down,” Holly said tersely. “Let me concentrate—”

An asteroid suddenly drifted into their path. Holly pulled up so sharply and quickly that the occupants of the Valkyrie felt a slight tug before the inertial compensators kicked in. From that point on, Milan kept his mouth shut (so he wouldn’t throw up all over the cockpit) and let Holly focus on flying, thereby increasing their chances for survival. “See what happens?” Holly demanded.

She jerked the ship to the left to avoid a relatively small chunk of rock. Holly evaded a dust cloud that was in the way. She dodged an asteroid that threatened to smash the Valkyrie to bits. Holly let loose a hail of laser fire at another asteroid, blowing it to smithereens. Holly noticed the tight grip Milan was keeping on his seat. “Don’t worry,” Holly said in a reassuring way. “We’re almost through.”

Holly swerved dangerously around another asteroid, blew up another one, and the Valkyrie was finally free of the asteroid belt. Holly switched to autopilot. Milan visibly relaxed. “You are absolutely crazy,” he said through clenched teeth.

Holly looked amused and pleased at the same time. “Well, thank you,” she said. “I take certain levels of insanity as a compliment rather than an insult.”

Milan shook his head. “How much longer?”

Holly checked the chronograph and looked rather surprised. “We’re about a half an hour away with about an hour and a half left on the life support. I thought that the trip through that was shorter, maybe fifteen minutes or something.”

Milan snorted. “I thought it was at least a week.”

“Well, time flies when you’re having fun.”

“That’s your idea of fun?” Milan demanded. “You are officially out of your mind. Remind me to promote you when we get back.”

Holly smiled at him. “Thank—”

“Targets coming in at 3 o’clock high,” interrupted a voice from the scanner station. “Three fighters and three Class-Fives.”

Holly cursed. “Persistent, aren’t they?” She reverted to manual control and increased the speed. Milan caught a glance of a small, red planet in the distance to the right.

“How long until we get to Arath?” Milan asked again.

“Going at this speed, maybe twenty minutes,” Holly replied. “With luck, we won’t get—”

A laser bolt rocked the ship. “Hit,” Holly gritted.

“Damage report,” Milan spoke into his mouthpiece.

“We just lost two air filters,” said one voice. “Maybe ten minutes left on life support.”

“Minor hull breach,” said another.

“How much time would we have if we added in another half-hour of air?” Holly asked into her mouthpiece.

Milan heard a couple of keystrokes then, “Around twenty-five minutes.”

“Great,” Milan said. “A window of five minutes. This is suicide; we might as well turn ourselves in.”

“Captain,” Holly said. “That insults me. You don’t trust me to fly my own ship? I’m deeply hurt.”

“Less talk, more flying,” Milan grated through clenched teeth.

“Oh, so you do trust my flying skills?” asked Holly, her eyes stuck to a computer screen showing the back of the ship outside. “C’mon, get closer,” she muttered. “That’s right… c’mon…”

Holly’s finger hovered over the left trigger. “What are you planning?” Milan asked. Holly didn’t answer.

Behind the Valkyrie, a fighter was closing the distance between them. “Great,” Holly said. “Just a little closer… just a little…” Her finger quivered over the trigger. “Bingo!”

She let loose a series of mines. The fighter ran straight into the mines, meeting a fiery end. “Haha!” cried Holly triumphantly. “Take—”

A volley of missiles were launched at the Valkyrie. Holly jerked the controls and released several flares. The decoys took the hit. Some of the concussion from the explosions propelled the Valkyrie further. “Fun,” muttered Milan. “This ride is turning out to be more fun than I had hoped.”

“Are you complaining now?” Holly interrupted Milan’s grumbling.

“Nope, no complaints from me,” Milan said. “Aside from a Xerjic task force that is intent on blowing this ship to bits while you and I exchange witticism, nothing to whine about. Absolutely nothing.”

“Good,” Holly said. “Then maybe you’ll keep your mouth shut and sit tight. For a captain, you’re awfully fidgety.”

“I am not fidgety,” Milan said, eyes flashing. “I protest—”

Holly flipped the ship around, narrowly dodging a barrage of laser fire and a plasma charged. “Okay,” Milan said. “Maybe I am fidgety.”

“Good,” said Holly. “Confession is the first step toward solving the problem.”

She veered out of the way of an oncoming fighter and sprayed laser fire at another one. “How did they get in front of us?” Milan asked incredulously. “No fighter that small has a wormhole rifter.”

“Apparently they do now,” Holly said.

“That’s not good,” Milan muttered. “Try shooting out the cockpit and dragging it in.”

“With all due respect,” Holly said sarcastically, “we don’t have time for that.”

“Oh,” Milan said lamely.

“Yes, oh.”

A flashing red line of dots appeared on a computer screen. “Missile volley coming in at six o’clock low,” a scratchy voice informed.

Milan glanced at the screen. “Arm AAMDS,” he said into his mouthpiece.

A few keystrokes, then, “AAMDS armed.”

“How old is your Anti-Missile Defense?” he asked quietly, pointing the mouthpiece away from his mouth.

“I update everything on this ship every thirty days,” Holly said.

“Ah,” Milan said. “No worries.”

Holly smiled tightly. “Let’s hope not.”

The missiles sped their way toward the Valkyrie, attracted by the distinct electronic signature. The robotic brain inside the missiles calculated the distance and the best place to hit. A spray of bullets directed at the missiles issued from two swiveling cannons. The missiles flared into a cloud of flame and shrapnel. Three fighters, in a show of bravado, flew directly through it while firing their forward mounted cannons. “Current opposition stands at five fighters, three Class-Fives, and one Class-Three,” said a voice. “At current speed, destination in ten minutes. Thirteen minutes left on life support.”

“Thank you for the progress check,” Milan said.

“Sure thing Captain.”

“Bringing out the big guns, eh?” Holly joked.

“We’ll get blown up by the big guns if you don’t hurry up,” Milan said.

“Right,” Holly grimaced. “Drop all energy weapon levels and add energy to rear shields.”

“I was hoping that I wasn’t going to need this,” she said.

“Um, do I even want to know what you’re going to do?” Milan asked.

“Probably not,” Holly replied. “Best close your eyes.”

Holly glanced over to see a shut-eyed Milan. She hovered her hand over a big red button that said “Warning: Self-Destruction Sequence”. With a final decision, she slammed a fist down on it.

The first change was a sharp upshot in speed. The next was a large explosion whose shockwave blasted the Valkyrie forward. The vast change of acceleration pulled everyone into their chairs for a second before the compensators kicked in. “What did you do?” Milan demanded.

“That matter is best left not knowing,” Holly said.

Milan grumbled. “You’ve broken about twenty rules in the handbook,” he said. “I can see why the bureaucrats on Council have had you court-martialed so many times.”

He glanced at the screen. All the red blips were gone. “What did you do?” he demanded.
“Must I repeat what I said?” Holly gritted.

“Well—”

A huge explosion rocked the ship. “Status report,” Milan said.

“Class-One within firing range,” a voice said.

“What do you have on here?” Milan asked.

“Nothing!” Holly said. “Well, almost nothing.”

“What do you mean ‘almost nothing’?” Milan asked scathingly.

“I just dumped everything from your ship’s computer onto mine,” Holly said.

“WHAT?” Milan yelled.

“What?” Holly asked.

“There’s a tracking beacon on that!” Milan yelled.

“Oh,” Holly said.

“Yes, oh,” Milan said acidly with a faint sense of déjà vu.

“That explains a lot of things,” Holly said.

“Yes, I suppose it does,” Milan said sarcastically.

Another blast rocked the ship. “Shields down to 10% power,” the ship’s computer said in a mechanical voice. “Engines down to 75% power. Minor damage to hull.”

“I thought we already took care of everything,” Holly muttered.

“Apparently not.”

“Missile volley coming in at 12 o’clock.”

The AAMDS roared at full power. Holly watched the ammunition count rapidly drop. A red zero and an incessant beeping confirmed the worst: no ammo left. “Great,” Holly muttered.

A blue and green marble with white clouds swirling across the surface loomed in the distance. “Drop all energy levels,” Holly said into her mouthpiece. “Load all power into the engine.”

“Have you any idea what you are doing?” Milan demanded. “With all that power, you’re going to blow out the engine!”

“Let’s hope we don’t,” Holly muttered.