Altered Heading - Ch. 4 (Beta)

Altered Heading

This is a science fiction story that will occasionally include erotic scenes. The chapters are serial in nature, so if you have not read the preceding chapters, I strongly recommend you do so before reading this one.

Enjoy.

This is a Beta copy, and may undergo alterations before its final release.

Chapter 4 (Beta)

***Tynaria, Chontilla - 05:42:67:14:92:80***

“So much for it being an ‘easy day’,” Luma quipped.

Returning to the hover sled, Silas grabbed the steering yoke and tugged it behind him, bringing it to the now-vacant doorway.

Lynn, already in the passageway, looked back. “They’ve withdrawn, but in both directions.”

“We only need to go in one direction,” Silas replied gravely, pushing the sled toward Lynn. “I want you to see if you can ride the sled while sitting atop the crate.”

Glancing one last time in each direction, Lynn hurried over to where Silas stood, holding the sled for her. Hopping up, she found that she was just able to touch her feet to the hover sled’s platform while sitting on the crate. Adjusting herself, she found her balance, then nodded to Silas. “I think I can ride it like this. Let go and I’ll give it a try.”

Releasing the steering yoke, Silas remained ready to grab for her, if she should need assistance.

Moving in fits and starts, Lynn tested her level of control on the sled. Frowning, she admitted, “This isn’t nearly as easy as I make it look. But… I think I’ll be able to manage.”

Nodding, he informed her, “I’ll lead the way back to the stairs. Let’s get out of here.”

Turning, Silas moved off at a quick trot, forcing Lynn to goose the throttle to keep up with him. Shadows flitted wildly ahead of him as the lights on his headgear swung about wildly, more or less tracking where he was looking.

They felt the heat before they saw the smoke. Ahead, almost to the stairwell, the ceiling had caved in, and above, a fire was raging. Silas surged ahead, scrambling up the mound of fallen concrete and reinforcing steel, only to pause in dismay.

“Can’t get out this way,” he shared, scrambling back down toward her. “Looks like the power plant for the accelerator is burning. We need to be elsewhere, fast. I saw the fire spreading rapidly toward multiple drums that looked like they contained fuel.”

“Oh, shit!” Lynn reacted, leaning hard to one side while powering the sled through the tight turn. She’d overdone it a bit and had to correct her trajectory on the far side, but was able to stay atop the crate, speeding back the way they’d come.

Silas sprinted past her, headed back toward the control room. “Luma,” he asked suddenly, “Can you tell whether there are other exits from this level?”

“I can, Silas,” his SSI replied, echoing her response into Lynn’s earbud. “However, you will need to descend one more level to reach it, as this hallway ends just ahead.”

“How the fuck do we do that?” he blurted out. “I don’t see a stairwell.”

“You will need to cross the safety rail to your left and continue along your current path via the accelerator’s tunnel,” Luma explained. “There’s another service access that leads to the surface in just under a kilometer.”

Grumbling to himself, Silas pulled up short, examining the safety rail, then the drop to the tunnel. The tunnel itself was huge, but it was largely occupied by a massive, cylindrical particle injector conduit that ran the entire circuit. They would have to travel atop the conduit itself.

“I have an idea,” he said, swinging his carbine around to his hip, then releasing it to draw one of his swords. Powering it on, he quickly sliced through the double-layered safety rail, then ran ahead a few meters and repeated the process. The now-detached section of railing collapsed to the hard floor, making a hideously loud metallic clatter as it did so.

Grimacing at the noise, Silas powered down and sheathed his blade, then grabbed one end of the rail section and swung it out into the open air above the accelerator shaft to their left. Running back, he grabbed the other end of the rail, turning the whole of it so that he could eventually let gravity pull the far end downward, while keeping the end he was holding at their level. In the end, with only a pulse having been consumed by the task, he’d managed to rig a serviceable ramp for Lynn to use to safely traverse the sled down and over, putting her along the top of the kilometers-long conduit that was the heart of the accelerator.

Lynn immediately powered her sled forward, not caring if the ramp was secure or not, and shot ahead, gliding smoothly down to end up hovering above the accelerator’s Main Injector.

The moment she made it to the top of the injector conduit, her sled became wildly unstable. Gasping aloud, she had to fight to maintain her place sitting atop the crate, which felt like unseen forces were attempting to slide it one way, then the other, out from beneath her.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed as she struggled with the highly unstable sled. Suddenly, it occurred to her what the problem was. “Silas, what’s in the crate?” she asked rhetorically.

“A big fucking magnet,” he answered her, distracted as he leaped over and down to alight next to her, concerned that she was suddenly struggling with the sled.

“Do you know what’s in the conduit below us?” she asked him, managing to find the right position to keep a very tenuous balance, surging ahead once more.

“No idea,” he admitted, glancing back, then running to get ahead of her to guard their front.

“About twenty-five kilometers of these big fucking magnets,” she hissed, doing her best to keep upright and moving forward, at a slightly reduced pace compared to before.

Silas slid to a stop, looking at his feet. “Shit,” was all he said, then, checking on Lynn, he trotted ahead once more, carbine at the ready.

Together, they pressed forward, heading for the service access about nine hundred meters ahead. Amber service lights lit the corridor ceiling every ten meters. Otherwise, only the bobbing lights from their hats gave them any illumination.

The surface upon which they were traveling was, in fact, the outer wall of a large cylinder, running parallel to the ground, its path curving gently to their right, as it eventually formed a circle, nearly eight kilometers in diameter. The sheer width of the tunnel was sufficient to give them the illusion of a corridor floor, but the ‘floor’ sloped down and away from them to either side, to disappear beneath tightly-packed, heavily shielded power trunks that ran in bundles along the walls of the injector, delivering power to the magnets lining the inside of the tunnel. The function of the magnets was to nudge sub-atomic particles along the circular flight path of the tunnel. Right now, however, they were making Lynn’s task way more challenging than it had started.

Behind them, now a quarter of a kilometer away, orange light bloomed off in the distance, and a few ticks later, the entire tunnel shook. The shockwave was enough to cause Lynn to slip from her tenuous perch atop the crate, sending the sled and crate on a downward path, where it eventually lodged between the side of the tunnel run and the power lines.

Rushing over to help her up, Silas asked, “You okay?”

Nodding, Lynn was about to reassure him when she took a step and faltered. Looking down, she winced as she placed her weight on her right leg. “Fuck. Fuck! Just fuck! I’ve twisted my ankle.”

Reaching into Lynn’s pack, Silas withdrew her medkit. Dropping quickly to one knee, he tore open the kit and pulled out a rolled-up bandage. Working quickly, beginning down near her ankle, he wrapped the bandage about her leg several times. Checking the wrap, he then tugged awkwardly on the bandage, and it became rigid, serving to further compress and reinforce Lynn’s ankle.

Glancing up at her, he suggested, “Try it now.”

Gingerly, she took a step, then another. “It’s good. I can almost move without pain. Let’s get moving.”

Already ahead of her, Silas had scrambled down to where the crate had spilled from the sled. As Lynn made to retrieve the sled, he gathered himself in a squat, getting a good grip on the crate, and heaved. Straining, he managed to break the crate away from the pull of the magnets lining the injector conduit and stood, slightly stooped, in the confines of the tunnel, slowly making his way back up to the top.

A horribly loud sound, like metal being dragged across metal, overtook them from the rear, as tiny sprinkler poppets in the distant overhead unseated progressively, advancing toward them, sprinkling water into the tunnel in their wake. Knowing that the water would make footing treacherous, Silas hurried, and Lynn followed him, eventually getting the sled beneath the crate.

Setting it down once more, Silas again steadied the sled for Lynn as she mounted the treacherously unstable rig. As soon as she was atop, she nudged the sled forward, then picked up her speed cautiously. Silas hurried to catch her. Then, together, they sped off into the dim tunnel, their objective still a good distance ahead.

“Silas, your shields,” Lynn suddenly exclaimed, more with wonder than concern.

Pausing, he looked down, then back at her. The water droplets were impacting their shields, only to bead up and roll off. In the lighting from their hats, it all looked surreal and somewhat beautiful. His brief smile turned into a grimace without warning. “This shit is sapping our shield energy,” he fretted. “We should hurry.” And with that, he was off again, leading them both further down the dark tunnel.

Soon, working together, they’d outdistanced the fire suppression system. Once they had passed beyond the range of the activated sprinklers, Silas breathed a sigh of relief, his footing becoming sure once more.

“You are nearly there,” Luma assured them both. “Less than one hundred meters ahead, you should encounter a service accessway, complete with a stairwell to the surface.”

Encouraged, Silas began to hope they’d escape the tunnel without encountering any more ragers.

His hopes were dashed when a pair of heavy doors ahead of them were suddenly thrown open with a booming clang, and a score or more of ragers poured into the tunnel, turning in their direction.

“How the fuck did they even know we were here?” Silas wondered aloud, bringing his carbine up and opening fire.

Within moments, he and Lynn had put a dozen of the ragers down, leaving them to twitch or writhe on the floor. More dashed into the tunnel behind the first wave, and several began to close in, until they slowed, raising their hands to shield their eyes.

Silas held his fire, and soon Lynn stopped firing as well. The ragers milled around for a few moments, seemingly undecided about whether they were interested in pressing their attack. In ones and twos, they began to turn away, scurrying back into the stairwell.

“I’m not sure that helps,” Silas observed. “They may have gone a short way back and are regrouping. We’re going to have to press through them.”

“The sooner I get off this injector, the sooner this sled will be easy to control,” Lynn reminded him. “If you can open a path for me, I’ll make it up those stairs.”

“You sure you’re ready?” he checked with her, running his hands down to ensure his own gear was secure.

Mirroring Silas, Lynn ran her hands over her gear. Everything was strapped on or otherwise secure, with the only exception being the crate beneath her. “Worst case is, the sled gets dumped, and I’m on foot after that. But, like you said, I’ve got my shields.”

Taking a deep breath to center himself, he shook his head. “This may turn out to be a really bad idea,” he grumbled, then turned and headed for the doors, Lynn scooting right up behind him.

Throwing the doors open wide, Silas charged in, yelling at the top of his lungs as he reached the steps and began his ascent. Behind him, Lynn leaned forward over the steering yoke of the hover sled, shifting her weight to force the nose downward. As she approached the steps, she used her legs to push down sharply, bouncing the sled, then leaned back hard, forcing the nose of the sled to spring upward just as it reached the stairs, giving it the angle it needed to slip up along the slope of the stairwell.

Throwing caution to the wind, Silas rounded the first bend, continuing upward, with Lynn tucked in behind him. This worked well enough to get them from the fourth landing past the third. As they approached the second-floor landing, Silas saw fleeing ragers beginning to stack up against a fresh wave.

Firing rapidly, he leaned forward, rushing into the center of the press of bodies. His shields flared with the collision, and ragers were flung backwards, scattering away from the staircase. Spraying stun shots to and fro, he held his ground as Lynn rounded the bend and began moving upward. As soon as she’d passed him, he backed away, keeping the ragers at bay for one moment longer, then he turned to race after Lynn.

Catching her as she crossed the lip, coasting out onto the ground floor landing, he scooted by her and kicked open the doors leading out of the stairwell, into the sunlight. Stepping aside, he narrowly avoided being run down by the sled as Lynn powered it past him, zipping out into the brightly illuminated quad. Ragers, rushing up from below, slowed as they approached the doors. However, as soon as they spotted Silas, they rushed forward once more, bent on reaching the one who’d taunted them.

Stepping back, Silas kicked the door shut in their faces and backed into the sunlight, carbine raised. The ragers thrust the door open, then came to a halt, howling and shaking their arms at him. As before, in front of the elevator the day prior, one rager spewed blood at him, which he deftly sidestepped.

Stunning that one for good measure, Silas pivoted and ran to catch up to Lynn. When she began to slow, he passed her, still on foot. Calling back to her over his shoulder, he yelled, “Hurry! Time is not our friend!”

Silas did not slow down to mount a second sled, nor did he try to get aboard hers. Instead, he pushed into a full-out sprint, maintaining his superhuman pace for the remainder of the return to the astrophysics tower, Lynn pacing him on her sled.

As soon as they entered the quad in front of the astrophysics tower, Silas slowed to a jog, then a walk. Eyeing the sun, he guessed that they had spent half the day entombed in the bowels of Drummond Hall. He shook his head in frustration. Their expedition to fetch the magnet part had taken them too long. They needed to stay on pace if he was going to manage to get Lynn to safety and prevent her from succumbing to the virus.

“Luma, assuming this material is an effective match, how long will it take to fabricate a replacement power coupling?” he asked his embedded Synaptic Sentient Interface.

“Accounting for foreseeable variables, I should be able to craft an acceptable part in less than ten pulses,” she informed him. “That should give you plenty of time to complete the secondary repairs and get the Little River space worthy.”

“Okay,” Silas began, motioning for Lynn to come to a stop. “We need to verify we got what we came for. Let’s get this crate open.”

As Lynn slid off the hover sled, Silas stepped up to the crate and gripped the edges of the container, his hands straining as he tightened his grip and pried the lid up. The nails sealing the crate squealed, then gave way, and the lid was open enough for him to adjust his grip and pull it clear of the rest of the container.

Brushing aside some packing material, he finally revealed the contents and visibly relaxed. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out his tablet, bringing it online and passing it over the large block of metallic material in the crate. The readouts confirmed his supposition. This is what they came for.

Repositioning the lid, lining up the nails with their holes, Silas quickly slammed his fist down on them, resealing the crate.

“Is that what we need?” Lynn asked, looking guardedly optimistic.

Nodding, he stepped back, passing the steering yoke of the sled back to her. “Hopefully, it will work – at least long enough for us to get back into space and swap in a proper part.”

“Okay,” she replied, “then what’s our next move?”

“Let’s check in with your professor to see if he managed to get us a ride.”

****

“Silas, I think we need to rewrap my ankle,” Lynn announced, fussing with the binding he’d applied. “My foot is starting to go numb.”

Silas knelt down next to Lynn’s injured leg, twisting a specific part of the wrapping, which allowed it to soften and deflate. Once its rigidity had faded, he removed the wrapping, carefully winding it up as he went, then loosened the fasteners on her boot. Removing it from her foot, he peeled off her sock next, exposing the discolored and rapidly swelling tissue beneath.

Looking around to ensure no one was observing them with too much interest, he withdrew his medkit and opened it up, once again pulling out the hypo. In a low voice, he informed her, “Your nanodes will help to heal this wound, but I’m going to give you a little something extra to help with the tenderness and swelling. We can leave you unwrapped for a tick, but it might not hurt to rewrap this more properly before we set off.”

Gently probing at her leg, he once again satisfied himself that she had no injury to the bones, only a strain to the muscles and ligaments. Pausing to ensure the hypo was dialed to the correct setting, he pressed it directly against the injured region. After the familiar soft hiss, Silas adjusted the settings on the hypo, selected an area up higher on her leg, and gave Lynn a second injection. Glancing up, he could see her face reflecting a combination of relief and trepidation.

Giving the injured area a moment to respond to the injections, Silas reached for a softer, more elastic wrapping from inside the medkit. With a gentle touch, he applied the new wrapping in a more traditional figure-eight, crossing it over the anterior part of her ankle, while wrapping it down around her heel, then up along the shin, giving additional support to the strained joint. Finished with the wrapping, he rolled her sock gently up her foot, ankle, and shin, then slipped her boot back into place, taking great care not to aggravate the injury. After carefully cinching up the closures once again, he stood back and examined his handiwork.

“Try standing up,” he suggested. “You should check to see if that feels stable, or still tender.”

Rising gingerly to her feet, Lynn took a few tentative steps, carefully placing weight on that foot. It became quickly apparent that she was no longer feeling the strain, but was still hesitant to trust the leg.

“I think I can work with this,” she finally acknowledged. “Might be a while before I feel up to running, so let’s try to avoid too many more clashes with ragers.”

“No promises,” he admonished her with a wry grin, “but I’ll do my best.”

Sykes Howard, one of the grad students who’d helped them the previous evening, approached, interrupting whatever retort Lynn might have had.

“The professor sent me to find you, Silas,” he informed them. “He found a vehicle, and we’re going to drop you off at the bridge as you requested.”

“Sounds good,” Silas responded. “Give us a moment to gather our gear, and we’ll be right with you.”

Picking up his backpack, he slipped it on, leaving the straps loose, then grabbed Lynn’s gear as well. “You just focus on carrying yourself out to the vehicle,” he suggested. “I’ll bring our gear.”

Together, they followed Sykes out to the main entrance. The barricade had been moved aside to allow them to pass through, and the crate containing the tungsten-iridium alloy material was waiting where they’d left it upon their return from Drummond Hall. Outside, a large pod waited for them, with Jonna at the driver’s controls. A hatch opened at the rear of the pod, and Silas first loaded their backpacks into the bed, then went back for the crate.

Lynn opted to sit in the second row seat, and was strapping in when Professor Phillips came out to see them off. Leaning into Lynn’s open doorway, he addressed her in a very low tone of voice, nearly a whisper. “Ms. Allen, if you are being coerced into accompanying Mr. Roet, please nod twice.”

Lynn looked sharply at him, offended at first, then she relaxed. “Our association is not forced, Professor. I can assure you that I am with Silas of my own volition. But… thank you for asking.”

“Excellent!” he replied in a booming voice, looking very relieved. “Then I hope your endeavors are successful. With any luck, we will begin testing the remedy to this insidious virus within the next day or so… right here on campus to begin with. If we can demonstrate its efficacy, perhaps folks from the government can help us distribute the cure to all the other places where it’s needed.”

Hearing the rear hatch close, Professor Phillips stood back from Lynn’s door and gently closed it. Turning, he extended his hand to Silas. “Mr. Roet, I hope that spare part meets your needs and helps you to get your… ship… underway once more. Please take care of Ms. Allen. She is a very bright woman.”

Taking the offered hand, Silas gripped Phillips firmly as he shook it. “Professor, good luck here. I hope Ms. Stamford’s work pays off, and cures your… err…  the people who are infected. Good luck, sir.”

The Professor’s eyes narrowed slightly at Silas’ near-slip, but he let it pass. As Silas got into the front passenger seat, Phillips leaned in to say, “Sykes, there and back, quick as you can. Be very careful.”

Nodding, the young man responded with a quick, “Yes, Professor!” As soon as Silas shut his door, they were off. Sykes drove the vehicle at a rapid pace, but not recklessly. He kept a close watch on their surroundings, only relaxing once they had left the press of buildings behind them.

Less than fifty pulses later, they were pulling up to the near side of the bridge. “Silas, are you sure you’re gonna be able to haul that crate across that bridge?” Sykes asked, giving the damaged span a dubious look. “It doesn’t look very… stable.”

“Don’t worry about us, Sykes,” Silas assured the young scholar. “We crossed this once. We know where the bad spots are. As soon as I close this rear hatch, you get your ass back to the tower. Stay safe!”

Checking to make sure they had everything, Silas motioned for Lynn to step back, then he closed the hatch, slapping the back of the pod. Without hesitation, Sykes sped away, already heading back toward Chontilla like he was late for dinner.

Deploying his hover sled, Silas wrangled the crate atop it, settling it slightly toward the rear of the deck, then gracefully climbed aboard, testing the results. The board was slightly unstable, but otherwise seemed easy enough to handle, even supporting his greater weight along with the crate.

Lynn pulled up alongside Silas, astride her hover sled, one eyebrow raised in a silent question. “All good?” she finally asked.

“I’m not used to sitting while riding,” he shrugged. “It’s getting late. Let’s get across.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she smiled. “Age before beauty.”

Scowling at the jab, Silas nonetheless pulled away, taking the lead across the bridge. Chuckling to herself, Lynn sped off behind him, giving him plenty of lead so she could react if he had to stop or make other sudden moves.

The crossing was not as troublesome on the return trip. They knew where the weak spots were, where they had to transition to the walkway due to the road being gone, and in less time than planned, they were exiting the bridge on the Flankston side, picking their way through the press of vehicles to locate the delivery pod they’d borrowed originally.

It only took them a few pulses to load the crate into the back of the delivery pod, get settled inside, and for Luma to get the pod started once more. Turning toward Flankston, they began to pick their way back along the same roadway they’d taken to get to the bridge.

“Luma, I’d prefer not to go through Flankston,” Silas said aloud, so that Lynn could be included in the conversation. “Can you check the nav system and see if you can route us around the city?”

Lynn was about to offer a suggestion when she suddenly sat straight up in her seat and leaned forward, shading her eyes as she strained to see something off to their left.

With abandoned vehicles strewn periodically in their path, Silas was reluctant to take his eyes off the road, especially at the speed he was pushing. “What is it?” he asked, not shifting his attention.

“I… I’m not sure,” she replied hesitantly. “I could have sworn I saw some sort of aircraft a moment ago. It was pretty far off, so maybe it was a flock of birds or something, but it’s gone now.” She leaned back in her seat, but kept a watchful eye in that direction, nonetheless.

“Silas,” Luma’s voice crackled over the speakers set into the pod’s dashboard, “you’re going to want to take the next offramp, then turn left. There’s an express loop that circumnavigates Flankston. It will allow you to bypass the city while passing very close to where the Little River is concealed.” Luma activated the vehicle’s Heads Up Display, putting the updated route on the windscreen.

Glancing at Lynn with one eyebrow raised, Silas nodded. “Sounds good. Thanks, Luma.”

“I hate those displays,” Lynn grumbled. “I feel like they interfere with my vision.”

“You get used to it,” Silas shrugged. “You should have seen the data displays from my scout armor. Now THAT really bothered me at first. Once I got used to the augmented reality, learned to really use it, it became just another part of the overall info-feed.”

“Scout armor?” Lynn repeated in a questioning tone. “What’s that?”

“During my ages of military service, I trained to be a scout,” he explained, taking the indicated off-ramp. After he executed the left turn that put him on the bypass, he continued his story. “Scouts were lead infantry elements, often ranging far ahead of the main combat force. Our role was primarily centered around locating the enemy’s position to guide the main combat force to them, or help the main force avoid an enemy ambush. We depended on speed and stealth. As such, our armor was lighter, built for speed and agility, unlike the armor suit that a warrior piloted. Those things were fucking beasts, able to take a hammering while dishing one out. Scout armor wasn’t nearly so robust, so I had to learn to pick battles with care. But, in exchange, we had a LOT of data at our disposal. A scout had all the information needed to manage a battlefield, displayed on his HUD.”

Lynn was silent, trying to picture this in her mind’s eye. “So, you really did serve in the military?” she eventually asked. “I thought that was just a bullshit cover story you were using to explain away your cranial ridges.” She absentmindedly reached over to run her fingers along his bumpy hairline.

Silas just nodded his affirmation, while becoming suddenly silent.

“And you were a scout? For this… what did you call it… Stellar Imperium?” she asked, wanting to keep him talking.

For a moment, Silas’ mouth turned down, and his expression darkened. After a few ticks, he shook it off, a forced grin returning to his features. “Not exactly,” he replied. “I grew up on a planet named Gygaxx. They were much like your planet, except they’d ventured farther into space. I actually completed my scout training on one of our moons.”

“I had enlisted right out of primary school,” he continued, the smile becoming less forced. “After about thirty cycles, I’d performed so well, I was sent off to the academy, and about an age later, I received my commission. I had my pick of opportunities, but I chose to return to scouting. I guess I’ve always preferred being an individual contributor over a team player,” he grinned ruefully.

“So, that still doesn’t explain how you came to do… whatever your current job is called,” Lynn pressed gently. “I mean, I haven’t seen you wearing this armor you’re so proud of, although I guess you are still gathering intelligence.”

“My current job is more of a punishment,” he sneered, scowling openly now. “As a scout, I fought for my planet. But, we lost… I should have died, like so many of the others. At the final battle, when it was clear we were beaten, I pitched headfirst into an impossible fight, pushing until my weapons were spent, my armor powerless. In the end, I was overwhelmed and pulled down.” He paused for many ticks, until Lynn thought perhaps he’d finished.

Abruptly, Silas took a breath and let it out slowly, visibly relaxing from the tension that had gripped him. “The Imperium captured me,” he began anew. “Sent me to one of their ‘re-education camps’. Decided that I’d make a good Warden. A Warden’s task is very limited and straightforward. We are sent to planets whose people are on the verge of spreading to the stars. It is our job to evaluate whether the planet will continue to be a spacefaring culture, and thus a potential concern to the Imperium,  or collapse inward due to any number of reasons, removing any cause for concern. As soon as we decide, we file a report and are sent on to the next planet.” He sighed once more, exhausted from revealing the details to Lynn. Adjusting his grip on the steering controls of the pod, he shrugged, adding, “Our role allows for no home. No family. No people. No… investment to protect. We are… disposable.”

“You perform a valuable service to the Imperium, and are rewarded with freedom, as opposed to being held in captivity,” Luma reminded him over the speakers.

“Held for what crime, Luma?” he asked her in a calm tone. “For defending my planet from invaders?”

“For losing, Silas,” she retorted flatly. “You lost. But, instead of killing you, or imprisoning you, the Imperium has given you a new purpose.”

“Spare me the bullshit, Luma. Let’s just agree to disagree for now, shall we?” he growled, knuckles cracking as he tightened his grip on the controls.

“So, what determination had you made, with respect to Tynaria?” Lynn probed, attempting to change the tone, if not the subject.

“I’m not sure what difference it makes now,” he grumbled, “but I was honestly undecided. Your culture doesn’t seem driven spaceward out of some kind of desire for conquest, nor for the need of raw materials. But, at the same time, I observed the same old patterns of internal strife building, the kind that rots away at the soul of a people, stripping away the drive to excel, and replacing that with the self-centeredness of entitlement that usually leads to a downward spiral, if not an outright planetary conflict.”

“So, you had not yet decided,” Lynn guessed.

“Or he was stalling,” Luma interjected. “Allowing himself to become distracted by some waitress in a no-name diner.”

“Act pretty, Luma,” Lynn snapped. “After all, you’re hardly in a position to judge, right?”

“Actually,” Luma corrected her, “that is my primary function. To make sure this recycled organic material doesn’t stray from his intended tasks, or in any way jeopardize the Imperium.”

“What a harsh thing to say!” Lynn objected, face turning red with anger.

“And now you understand why we’re such a perfect match for one another,” Luma continued, unaffected by the woman’s judgment. “We both hate our jobs.”

The day was slipping away, with the sun moving to the final quarter of its daily journey. On the opposite horizon, the moon was already rising, well on its way into the sky. “How long until we reach the Little River, Luma?” Silas asked, stifling a yawn.

“At present speed, we should arrive at the Little River within forty-five pulses,” Luma replied quickly.

“So, I’m gonna need a cheat sheet to help me understand your time measurements, Silas,” Lynn confessed. "Every time I hear one of your odd units, I wonder what the hell you mean.”

Silas chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn’t always use Galactic Time. But, I do find it useful when I’m in space, or planetside for a relatively short stay. Eventually, if I were to remain anywhere long enough, I’d adopt their local units. I try to avoid using Galactic Times in conversations, else I end up confusing folks. And I don’t usually know what the ‘local time’ is, as I don’t carry a chronometer that tracks planetary, let alone regional, time. And don’t even get me started on calendars!”

They shared a brief laugh together, then Lynn stiffened again, this time peering intently off to their right.

“Okay, this time I’m certain I saw something, and it wasn’t a flight of birds!” she hissed.

Silas glanced over at Lynn, just as powerful bolts of plasma rained down onto the roadway ahead of them. Three quick bolts of energy discharging against the road as they closed in on the vehicle were followed by the nose of the pod suddenly slamming downward with explosive force. The momentum of the pod carried the ass-end of the vehicle up and over its forward section, which was crumpled and smashed into the roadway. Glass shattered all around then, as metal squealed in protest. For a brief instant, everything seemed to move in slow motion, as the pod tumbled and rolled, twisting through all three axes.

The violent torsion enacted on the vehicle and its occupants resulted in Silas, who had not worn his safety harness, being thrown several dozen meters away from the wreckage, where he lay, unmoving. Something alien shimmered into the visible spectrum as it approached the demolished pod from the air, hovering briefly before settling to the surface, steam venting from multiple seams in the craft’s hull as it powered down.

After a long pause, a bright light seemed to etch the outline of a hatch on the craft’s hull, and the hatch sank inward and slid to the side, leaving an opening through which orangish-red light streamed, before a nightmare began to emerge.

Lynn, still strapped into her seat, was stunned, dangling upside down, and barely conscious. She snaked her hands up to run along the straps holding her in place, trying to free herself. With little focus, her fingers tugged feebly at the buckle of her restraints, but she could not muster the clarity to coordinate her movements to free herself.

A crunching sound to her right drew her attention. Gazing out past the twisted wreckage of the pod, the world was upside-down. Disoriented, concussed, she vaguely realized the legs moving toward her were not human. But her focus was captured immediately by the reflection of orangish-yellow light glittering off a wicked-looking blade held by the creature approaching her.

****

The hunter had spotted the vehicle on its way to the larger hunt. A distraction at first, then a curiosity. The virus should have left none on the planet capable of mustering the focus to pilot a vehicle, yet here they were. The Hunter had observed the path of the vehicle for a moment, then decided the distraction had lasted too long. Passing low, it had required little effort to disable the fast-moving craft. One of the occupants had appeared to have been thrown free of the wreckage, but the Hunter could see no sign of it after landing.

No matter. It would be a simple task to track it down, once this first creature had been dealt with. The Hunter could have quickly ended this distraction with a burst from its blaster, but the result would be too unsatisfying. The Hunter’s blade, on the other hand, cruelly wielded, should prompt the prey to release a satisfying amount of endorphins as it shrieked out its final breath.

Wrapping its taloned claw around the edge of the access hatch to the vehicle, the Hunter tore the metal free, tossing it to one side as it then leaned forward to peer more closely at the terrified occupant, still trapped inside the craft, only now beginning to scream. The golden-haired creature’s tiny noises were pathetic, ungratifying. The Hunter shrugged away its disappointment. It knew how to elicit a more pleasurable experience.

Reaching forward, the Hunter slashed at the restraints trapping the prey, managing to also drag the edge of his blade along the thicker part of one of the creature’s lower extremities. This produced a much more satisfying scream, and the alpha waves emitted by the panicked thing were much more savory.

The Hunter was pleased. The prey fell free from the crumpled vehicle and began to scramble in a feeble attempt to move away. But he’d injured it, and it could not move well. Too bad. A chase would have made this encounter even better.

The Hunter’s reflections were interrupted, however, when the squalling creature suddenly brought something up and took aim. An energy bolt sizzled into his chest armor, a slight pin-prick of pain managing to pierce through to the Hunter’s flesh beneath. The Hunter roared in delight! This prey would fight back!

Slowly, desiring to extend what small amount of reward this encounter could avail him, the Hunter pivoted, turning to begin stalking his prey. Moving gracefully, almost silently, he brought himself away from the crashed vehicle, which was now beginning to burn, sliding off to his right as he moved to flank the wounded creature.

The Hunter paused, glancing around. He thought he’d heard something. The slightest of sounds. But he saw nothing. Turning back, another bolt of energy from the prey’s weapon glanced off the brow of the Hunter’s helmet. No! Not his helmet! A fusion of technology, merged with the skull of a much larger prey from the past, his helmet was a trophy, and this puny creature had dared to mar it!

Standing erect, the Hunter pitched its head back and let out a long, gurgling roar, preparing to bring this hunt to an end. Raising its blade, the Hunter prepared to spring forward and impale the impudent thing, maximizing its pain and terror before its end.

****

Lynn had tried desperately to slay the beast. Well-placed shots to what were normally vulnerable targets only seemed to anger it. Her leg was on fire, the pain an agony demanding her attention. The damned thing had slashed her horribly from knee to hip with its blade, then set about stalking her, almost as if it were deriving pleasure from her pain and horror!

Searing pain lanced through her with every agonizing step, yet Lynn refused to give up. Silas was nowhere to be seen. He’d been thrown from the pod as it tumbled and was probably injured or dead. Her earbud had been dislodged during the crash, so she had no way to hear Luma, assuming she was still able to communicate.

Seeing the hideously ugly creature stalking her, seemingly enjoying her helplessness and pain, enraged Lynn. Bringing her weapon up for another attempt, she shot it in the helmet, which only seemed to antagonize it.

She shrank away from it as the beast reared up to its full height, somewhere between two and three meters, she guessed. Howling skyward, the beast suddenly lowered its head and fixed her with its deadly gaze, weapon now held in a menacing pose. Lynn realized she’d provoked it, and her end was suddenly upon her.

Glaring defiantly at the monster, she let out a scream of her own at it, pouring out all of her anger, all of her fear, all of her frustration at such an unrewarding ending.

The beast flexed. Its weapon arm drew back slightly, muscles rippling across its torso as it prepared to deliver a killing blow, its legs flexing slightly to propel it forward. Death was upon her. And yet, the beast suddenly arched its back, its war-cry suddenly altered in pitch to a surprised scream of pain as two fountains of dark, viscous fluid exploded from its chest.

Lynn watched in terrified fascination as a pair of red-limned blades sprang forth from within the creature, only to rotate and move past each other, tearing the beast in two.

The blades sliced their way out of the creature, and with a sickening wet sloshing sound, its body collapsed in a heap. Behind it, covered in gore, Silas ferociously drove his blades into the now prone body of the creature once more, savaging it, eliminating any further threat it might pose.

At last, Silas moved away from the creature and ran toward Lynn, as darkness and silence overcame her, and the world seemed to turn sideways.

Images, blurred and hazy, interrupted her awareness for quite some time, until she was finally allowed to rest. To sleep. In the comfort of a bed.

Shocked and dismayed, Lynn sprang awake. She was in a bed! The surroundings were unfamiliar at first, until she realized that she was back aboard the Little River. Glancing around, she was alone in the same cabin she’d slept in previously. Looking down, she was stripped of her clothing, but her leg had been treated, a thin silvery scar the only reminder of her wound. Aside from mild tenderness throughout her muscles, attesting to the wrenching she’d endured as a result of the wreck, Lynn felt pretty good.

A second glance around the cabin allowed Lynn to finally notice her pack had been placed in the corner, at the foot of the bed. Stacked neatly to one side were her clothes that she’d been wearing before the encounter with the alien… thing. Holding the clothes up to the light, she was amazed to realize they’d been cleaned and mended.

Silas has been busy, she surmised silently. Feeling the need to void her bladder, as well as tend to her general funky odor, Lynn rummaged through her pack for her hygiene kit, grabbed the towel hanging on the inside of the hatch, and ventured out of her cabin, into the rest of the ship.

****

Silas wiped the stream of sweat from his face, struggling to reach power connections just beyond his reach. Fucking alien technology! What a fucking mess!

“You need to try to relax,” Luma advised him, her voice sounding odd and jittery. “Your muscles are still tight from the strain you suffered, and taut muscles are short.”

Sighing, he expelled his breath in a frustrated non-verbal explosion, then shut his eyes tightly, attempting to regain his composure. Ten long, slow, steady breaths passed, and he slowly repeated his previous attempt, moving slowly as he did so. At first, his fingertips brushed the coupling, skittering across the release. Relaxing, he focused, stretching slowly, rotating his arm slightly, concentrating on willing his reach to extend just a bit more. Grasping the release nodule, he depressed it, and the coupling parted, allowing him to remove the heavy piece of machinery from the alien craft’s instrument cluster.

A feeling of triumph buoyed his spirits for a moment, as he examined the targeting and fire control mechanism that he’d wrestled from a ship he’d never seen before today. Peering closely at the wiring, he was deep in thought, deducing how he might adapt the weapons and their control mechanism to the Little River when Luma interrupted his thoughts.

“We have company,” she said softly.

Looking up quickly, he did not see what she meant at first, until he heard sounds behind him. Glancing up from below the console he’d managed to squeeze himself beneath, he saw Lynn climbing into the ship, appearing healthy and well-rested.

“There you are,” she observed. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Well, you found me,” he quipped, returning to his task. “How’s the leg?”

“Good as new, thank you,” she replied, coming to squat nearby and peek beneath the console to see what he was doing. “Is this that… that thing’s ship?” she asked, a slight catch in her voice at the thought of the hunter.

“It was, yes,” he admitted. “Ever hear the saying, ‘to the victor go the spoils’?”

“Not in those words, no,” she shook her head. “But I take your meaning. Still, I think your Little River is considerably more spacious and comfortable.”

“True,” he grunted, then swore as he barked his knuckles on something unseen. “But this ship also has weaponry, which we do not, as well as a cloaking system, which, again, we do not.”

“What about a way for others to track it?” she probed, glancing skyward and looking around nervously.

“It’s over there, behind you,” he pointed past her. “First thing I disabled, before we even left the crash scene.”

Looking behind her, she saw a pile of equipment, along with something that gave her a start. She was looking that horrible creature right in its eyes. Its lifeless eyes, she determined after she recovered from the initial shock. “Silas, why is that creature’s head back here?”

“Well, I’d like to say that I was feeling triumphant and took it as a trophy,” he commented, struggling to get the object of his fixation to budge, the surrounding frame beginning to creak ominously. “But, the truth of the matter was that the flight controls required identification via a scan of his face, so I kinda needed it to get us back here.”

Lynn’s mouth made a silent ‘Oh’ as she nodded and looked away, disgusted at being close to any part of that horrifying creature.

“Silas, what is… err… was it?” she asked guardedly, adding, “and why did it attack us?”

“It wasn’t feeling terribly talkative back there, so I didn’t get a chance to ask it,” he replied in a snarky tone.

“Act pretty,” Luma nudged him.

Sighing, he slid out from under the console and sat up, absently rubbing his hand, which was covered in tiny lacerations and no small amount of his blood. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. Based on his behavior, I’m going to guess that he’s some sort of hunter. I doubt he just happened to stumble across your world just as it's so vulnerable, so I’m willing to speculate that his… people… did this to your world, possibly for sport.”

“Fuck!” she spat, looking angry as she considered the implications. “So, you’re saying that there might be more of these… hunters… around, and they are here to kill us for sport.”

“I don’t think that they are specifically targeting us,” he corrected her. “But, consider, you’d mentioned thinking you’d seen something several times. At some point, he decides to shoot our pod, then comes down to finish the job. My guess is that when he saw us driving the pod, it was unexpected, so he was curious at first, before he decided to score an easy kill.”

“We looked like an easy kill?” she expressed skeptically.

“No, but we weren’t aware of his presence, so it was easy for him to gain the advantage with a surprise shot,” he growled. “Chances are, he was on his way to Flankston to set down somewhere and walk into the city, killing any ragers he could bait to attack him.”

Lynn considered this notion for quite some time. Eventually, she shook her head, then asked, “So what are you working on, then? Did the alloy not work?”

“No, no, it worked just fine,” he assured her. “The first thing I did after you were resting comfortably was render the magnet parts down to their constituent materials, then used them to fabricate a replacement power coupling. Luma has the ship running through updated diagnostics, tuning the controls to operate within reduced parameters, due to the nature of the repairs being somewhat… ad hoc.”

“So, you’re just over here tinkering, then?” she asked, looking around the interior of the alien vessel with renewed disgust.

“No,” he denied, “I’m here for a few reasons. First, we did a memory dump of the ship’s computer for later analysis. Second, I wanted to determine whether or not I could adapt its weapons or cloak to the River…”

“Anything else? You seemed to pause as if there was something more…” she pressed.

“I was trying to determine this thing’s vulnerabilities, in case we come up against them once we get Little River flying again,” he admitted.

“And you found something?” she interjected hopefully.

He shook his head, looking downcast. “These things will be a problem if we can’t outrun them or hide from them,” he admitted. “They might even be a match for Imperium fighters, which isn’t a stretch. The Imperium usually wins through overwhelming numbers, not better equipment.”

“Is that what happened on your world?” she puzzled, wanting to finish the conversation they’d been having before the attack.

Silas sat silently for several ticks, not responding. Finally, he shook off the haunting memory of that final battle. “We were completely outnumbered. We could have defeated ten-to-one odds, our gear was so much better. Possibly even fifteen-to-one. We were just that good. But a hundred to one? That’s just simply not within the realm of possibilities. I can’t even speculate how many I took out by myself, and I was a scout, not equipped to get into a slugfest with the enemy. The overall losses the Imperium absorbed were unbelievable, and to this day, I’m not sure I understand the reason why they’d go through all of that, and then not adopt the better training or technology Gygaxx had to offer.”

Leaning forward, Lynn placed a comforting hand on Silas’ arm. “Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat?” Lynn’s stomach rumbled audibly enough for Silas to hear.

Pulling himself upright, he picked up the components that he’d pried from beneath the console. “I am a bit hungry, yes. I’ll come show you how to use the nuculator, then stage this stuff for later. C’mon.”

****

The two of them sat silently, chewing their food, the events of the previous day beginning to catch up to Silas. His shoulders sagged slightly, and he was looking a bit worse for wear when Lynn finally asked him, “Silas, when was the last time you slept?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment as he considered her question. “Let’s see,” he finally got around to answering her, “I slept before we took our little trip to Drummond Hall. And I had a few naps the night before, in your apartment.”

“Are you telling me your last good night’s sleep was the night before the meteor attack?” she blurted out, a touch of disbelief mixed with sympathy in her tone.

“I got some good rest the last time we were here,” he pointed out, gesturing at her with his spork.

“Do you have another one of those camouflage coverings?” she asked. “If so, we should cover the alien’s ship, and you should get some rest. We can hit it hard after you’ve had a few hours… sorry, what do you call them?”

Waving his hand dismissively, Silas informed her, “A pulse is a bit longer than three of your hours, but we need to get off this world and get you to the Rona River, so I can give you longer-lasting protection from the virus.”

“Silas,” she chastised him gently, “you gave me a booster yesterday. I should be good for the rest of the day, and you have more, right?”

“I have only one booster left,” he admitted after a moment. “The others were damaged when our vehicle was destroyed.”

“Still, that should give us plenty of time,” she pressed. “And there’s always the alternative… “

“No,” he shook his head in protest. “I haven’t come this far to lose you. And I can’t guarantee that I could keep you sedated long enough to… what’s so funny?”

Covering her smile, Lynn shook her head as she gathered her composure. “I wasn’t suggesting we let my protection lapse, Silas.”

“Oh,” he said, then looked stricken as he grasped her true intention. “Oh! Um, well… we talked about this. I don’t want you to feel forced into anything.”

Standing, she moved over to stand next to him, pushing his chair out so she could sit sideways in his lap. Draping an arm around his shoulders, she leaned forward to touch her forehead to his. “I know, Silas, which is why I am falling even more for you. You’re not making me do anything. I’m suggesting we could. That’s different.” Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his hair, gently touching, then exploring his cranial ridges. Tilting her head up, she kissed them, then moved down to kiss him.

“For now,” she continued, “I want you to rest. So let’s try this again. Where‘s another camo cloth? You show me where I can find it, and I’ll go cover up the other ship, lock ours closed, and then come help you rest.”

Knowing the wisdom of gracefully accepting defeat, he nodded. After they’d cleared the disposables from their quick meal, Silas showed her to a storage locker. “The camo cloth, as you called it, is here. It will activate as soon as you unfold it. Just position it with the dark side down, toward the ship.”

Nodding in understanding, she leaned forward to kiss him again, this time on the mouth. She lingered for a moment, then pulled away. “I’ll be back for more of that later. In the meantime, you should go get cleaned up and climb into bed.”

Pulling the tarp from the storage locker, she headed for the hatch. Pausing, she went to her cabin, returning with an earbud. “I’ll have one of these in my ear. In case one of us needs the other, we can use Luma to communicate.”

“I’ll be thrilled to help,” Luma added sarcastically, a slight hint of amusement in her tone.

With that, Lynn was gone, closing the hatch behind her. “Please keep an eye on her, Luma,” he asked aloud, heading for his cabin.

***Tynaria, Little River - 05:42:67:14:98:24***

Silas had always enjoyed this game. Lying in the grass, watching the clouds, trying to pick shapes out and guess what Andrea thought they looked like. He and Andrea had been playing this game since they were children. Now, nearing adulthood, the game was still special to them, but was often a precursor to other activities that were even more enjoyable.

“That one looks like a rabbit,” he proclaimed, a lazy smile playing across his features.

“A rabbit, huh?” Andrea said loquaciously, her hands roaming over his chest, working their way down. “Hmmm, perhaps you should fetch your bow and hunt it for our dinner.”

He allowed himself a slight chuckle, then reminded her, “We need to keep the noise down. The war is coming.” He nodded his head toward the darker clouds gathering to the north.

“Let it come,” she purred, her fingers deftly working the fasteners on his trousers. “Our military can stop any invasion.”

Adjusting herself next to him, Andrea’s head moved down to where her hands were busy, and Silas suddenly felt a cool breeze across his private parts as Andrea opened his pants and exposed him. After a moment, the cool breeze was replaced by warmth, as Andrea first blew a hot breath across him, then took him into her mouth, beginning to ‘wake the monster’, as she always put it.

Luxuriating in the pleasure she was giving him, Silas allowed his eyes to drift closed, shutting out the darkness that was approaching. He writhed in the sensations that Andrea was generating, feeling that familiar tingle already beginning to build, down deep.

He groaned aloud, no longer caring about being quiet. Andrea always knew how to please him, how to get him quickly to his release, and she was well on her way to achieving her objective! Rotating his hips as his release drew closer, Silas opened his eyes again to look down at the raven black hair of his childhood friend, now first love.

Instead of seeing her dark tresses, Silas saw wavy golden hair, unkempt and in disarray. When the owner of the hair looked up at him, Silas was shocked to see a familiar face, twisted with anger, blood streaming from her eyes, which were bulging in their sockets. Oh, Lynn! No! Silas stifled a gasp, devastated that the rage virus had finally claimed his new love.

Silas raged silently, eyes jammed shut once more, not wanting to see what had become of the beautiful woman he’d tried so hard to save. He should have done more to protect her! And now, she was having him anyway. Insistently, she tugged at him with her clawed hands, enveloping him with her twisted, bloody maw. With a newfound urgency, she was demanding her due. What he should have given her sooner, when it might have mattered.

And, despite his horror, she was about to receive it. He was astonished that hands capable of tearing flesh from bone were making him feel so good. That a mouth, only moments before having howled in rage at him, was now attempting to draw forth his very life-giving essence with all the pleasure and enticement he could have imagined from her before she’d fallen to the virus.

The guilt from his lack of commitment to do whatever it took to save her washed over him, vying with the pleasure that he was feeling from her surprisingly gentle ministrations. In spite of it all, the war, the virus, the despair covering the planet, he was about to… to… oh! His eyes flew open, the clouds gone, replaced with the familiar overhead of his cabin.

He looked down, afraid to see rager-Lynn ready to tear into him. Instead, he was relieved to see the angelic vision of beautiful, normal Lynn, working him with vigor, a smile dancing mischievously in her eyes as she watched him approach his peak.

And then, it was upon him. He felt the familiar tightness in his loins that segued into the clenching, spasmodic pulsing of his member as he spewed forth his seed. Glancing down once more, he saw Lynn – beautiful Lynn, not rager-Lynn – suddenly focused on capturing and gulping down the reward he gave for her efforts.

Silas reached down, running his fingers through her soft, golden tresses, groaning aloud as his lower body tensed in the final throes of his ecstasy, and then he relaxed. Glancing down once more, he saw Lynn drawing out the last of what he had to offer, then withdrawing from him, keeping her lips sealed around him so as not to lose a precious drop.

Finally, with an audible pop, she pulled from him completely, swallowing, then rewarded him with a big, happy smile.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” she cooed, her eyes brilliant with her delight. “Well, good evening, at least. How do you feel?”

****

Silas was dismayed that he’d slept most of the day. In hindsight, he’d likely needed the rest. Now, as he inspected Lynn’s handiwork, he shook his head, impressed at what she’d accomplished. “And you managed to do all of this with Luma’s guidance,” he stated again, wonder and disbelief in his tone.

“Hey, she told me what to do, and I did it. It wasn’t that hard,” Lynn demurred, waving a hand dismissively. “Except the part where we had to remove the blaster canons from the Hunter’s ship, and mount them to ours. That was more weight than I could handle, so Luma broke out the Bot-chassis and pitched in. But all the cable runs, the instrument patching, the hull-sealing – that was me. With Luma’s guidance, of course.”

The cockpit had been rearranged somewhat. The auxiliary nav station, destroyed by the meteor impact, had been repaired and augmented with a new console that controlled the cloaking device. The main flight board at his pilot’s station was intact, but an extra daughter console had been added to support the new weapons system. He would have to test it all out, of course, but Silas was still impressed at the work Lynn and Luma had completed while he slept.

“So, what’s keeping us from going up to the Rona River?” Lynn asked, looking pleased with herself.

Silas looked around, then shrugged. “I think we’re probably ready,” he admitted. “Luma, did the final diagnostic come back in the green?”

“Yes, Silas,” the SSI’s voice crackled over the cockpit speakers. “The Little River is once more within functional operating parameters. We can depart as soon as you are ready.”

“Okay, then, let’s get started on a final pre-flight checklist,” Silas said, rubbing his hands together and sitting in the pilot’s flight chair.

Once again, the two began their sing-song routine, going through a lengthy list of items to check before launch. Lynn took a seat at the restored auxiliary nav station, listening with fascination, excited at the prospect of going into space shortly.

“Silas,” Luma’s voice suddenly changed its tone, from her familiar, almost bored tone, to one tinged with stress. “I am detecting more of those alien vessels entering the atmosphere. Their general trajectory indicates they are heading for Chontilla.”

“Oh shit!” Silas and Lynn exclaimed at the same time.

Silas turned to look at Lynn, eyes reflecting his indecision.

“We have to help them, Silas,” she told him, her voice calm and assured. “No one there will stand a chance against those things without our help.”

****