Page 43 of Hooded

“They don’t make them for humans either.”

“It’ll fit. Get it on before the forcefield loses integrity again,” Klynn says, handing a set of anti-grav boots to Narlix as he pulls on a pair himself before grabbing a couple of re-breathers.

I pull on the suit. It is far too big, as I expected, but as I pull it up over my head, I see the small patch which will shrink it tofit. I’ve never liked these things, as I always feel like a piece of shrink-wrapped meat, but I mentally pull up my big girl pants and slam my hand on the patch.

The suit sucks itself around my form just as the artificial gravity fails around us. Our anti-grav boots take hold as debris rolls past us.

“We need to go,” Narlix says. “We’ll be out of the nebula soon.”

Klynn gives her a sharp look and sets off towards the umbilical entrance. I follow, soon puffing hard at the additional work it takes to lift and place my feet in the boots. All the time, we have to watch for floating pieces of junk which do their level best to knock us off the skywalks over the dock area.

By the time we reach the umbilical, I’m already exhausted. The airlock opens, and I see the waving, bouncing tube which will lead past a procession of ships before reaching mine.

My ship. She’s still there, and freedom is in our grasp.

KLYNN

I do not trust the creature my Fern calls Narlix. But because Fern wants her with us, I will need to make sure she is never out of my sight. And certainly not allow her near any weaponry.

The artificial gravity slams back on, and my body is unimpressed by feeling all my weight again. Through her helmet, Fern exhales, her eyes closing briefly before she marches into the umbilical, a clear tube with a metal walkway, bouncing and shivering as we continue to forge through the nebula. I flick my head at Narlix to follow her. She hurries ahead as I check the dock for any signs of life.

There are none. I doubt we are going to continue to be this lucky.

The umbilical shakes as I step into it. I check the airlock. Is the nebula affecting this structure? As far as I can tell, it is the electrical fields it is disrupting, almost like I can. One thing is clear—if this was the only way the Tormelek felt they could travel, then they really needed to avoid what was on the outside of this nebula. The damage done will cost many credits to fix.

I move swiftly to catch up with my Fern and the creature, Narlix.

“We need to move faster,” I say. “I’m not sure how much integrity this umbilical has.”

Fern doesn’t say anything, but she increases her pace to a slow run, her breathing ragged. Up ahead, I can see where the thing terminates and, through the clear covering, the last ship in line. As Fern speeds up further, I suspect this is her ship. Behind us, I hear a loud crack.

The airlock to the umbilical shuts like an eye, cutting us off from the Tormelek ship.

“Go now!” I roar as one by one, the pressure hoses holding the umbilical detach. “Or we die!”

Ahead, Fern runs, turning a sharp right into the airlock on her ship. She’s followed by Narlix as I feel the pull of a vacuum. The air rushes past me, catching my feathers and meaning I have to work hard to get to the ship. Narlix stands in the airlock looking back at me.

“Come on, Gryn,” she yells over the rushing of the air. “Your mate and youngling need you.” She grabs hold of my arm, pulling me inside as the airlock closes and the umbilical falls away into the emptiness of the nebula.

“Where is my mate?” I growl as she releases me.

“Getting this thing started.”

I stride through the ship. The air is musty, swirling in eddies around me with dust and the faint, foul scent of Tormelek. Fern has removed her helmet and is working at the main pilot’s console.

“Come on,” she grinds under her breath. “Start, damn you.” She punches in a selection of start up modes, and after a brief pause, there is a slow whine from the engines.

“Yes!” Fern celebrates. She goes to swing the ship to the right, but the entire structure shudders violently. “No!” Her fingers rush over the console. “We’re tethered to the other ships.”

“Where?” I ask.

“Rear left quadrant,” Fern says. “But it’s no use. The tether has to be released by the mothership. We’re stuck.”

“We are not,” I growl. “We are leaving the Tormelek to their own demise today.”

I race to the rear of the ship, running my hands over the structural struts which are indicated by slight indentations in the ceiling of every passage. The tether is instantly obvious, glowing a bright white in the metal ceiling. I place my hand on the wall, feeling out and out until I tune into the threads which bind the impulses to the metal. It’s complex, but as I follow up to the patch where it sits, the field evens out and I can “talk” to it.

It releases its grip on the hull, and I instantly feel the ship surge away, dropping out of the long line of stolen craft and diving. Racing back to the bridge, I see we’re heading into a denser part of the nebula than the one the Tormelek are following.

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