Page 23 of Fighting Gravity
I watched the docking back doors slide open before me and punched the shuttle into full power, shooting past multiple attacking ships into the expanse. As I did, I spoke one last command into my coms on a channel only I had access to.
“Faln gorok,” I grumbled reluctantly.
Veron and Kaar’s gazes shot toward me.
I never thought I’d have to speak those words on my ship, but I did and it left a little bruise on my spirit. For me to be the one to order a complete wipe of the ship’s memory and AI broke me a bit, but no decision made as urok was easy. It never had been and it never would be. Wiping the Argos was the last thing I could do before she fell into pirate hands. At the very least, they would not get anything from our mission files and research.
As I piloted us away from the Argos, all I could think of was how much I wanted to turn around and use the limited weaponry on the shuttle to fight every last pirate that had aided in maiming my vessel. I thought it in silence for a while until we’d gained a bit of distance and then slammed a fist against the control panel, nearly cracking the thin, metal slab in two.
“Drek!” I barked.
“I am sorry, Rhone,” Veron said, hints of real regret in her tone. “But your men are alive. That is what matters.”
“That ship mattered,” I said. “You know it did.”
“And now it is gone.”
“To filthy pirates. She did not even go down in battle.”
“Three casualties, urok,” Kaar deduced. “We will not know who until we can make contact with the others.”
“Three casualties is enough,” I said through my teeth.
“Enough for what?” Veron asked.
“Enough for me to declare war on the wholedrekkinggalaxy.”
9: Quinn
The guy was really attached to his ship. I didn’t know him too well, but I knew anger and loss pretty well and that was what I was seeing in him as we shuttled away from the vessel.
The unnerving thing was that I sympathized.
Yeah, I sympathized with the big, green alien who’d kidnapped me, hit me, and held a knife to my throat. How could I not? I grew so attached to the ship I piloted in training that I named the damn thing and when I graduated, I hated the idea of other students piloting my baby. Knowing that Norm and his crew had likely served on that ship for a long time and now had to retreat with the knowledge that it was going to be stripped and sold hurt just to think about.
And then I remembered that I was a prisoner and the cuts Norm had inflicted on my chest and neck still stung. I side-eyed him, glaring daggers at the bastard.
Then… I decided being angry wasn’t exactly the best idea at the time. I realized we were in an escape shuttle and let my gaze drift to his hands, which were doing things on a metal panel in front of him. Like the slick, silver walls of his ship, the panel looked like flat metal until his fingers woke up a light show of controls that glistened on its surface. I still didn’t understand the symbols, but I tried to keep track of the general area his hands touched more. Once he got the thing running, it looked like he used his touch to control two flat wheels that glowed through the metal. They were covered in symbols, but for the time being, I ignored them and deduced that he was using them like steering wheels. Or rather, controls on an old gaming console. I observed how he turned them and how the ship responded each time, doing my best to understand how to pilot an alien spacecraft for my inevitable escape.
“You wouldn’t even know how to start it,” Norm said, staring out the front of the shuttle.
“Hmf,” I huffed. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re studying the ship’s controls hoping it will help you escape. It won’t.”
“You think you know me, huh?”
He turned to look at me, his dark, bottomless gaze drowning me. “I think I do.”
“So? Where are we going?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Seriously? What am I going to do with that information? Call my people for a pickup?”
“No, I just don’t see a reason to tell you anything. You are a prisoner.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes. “So why not leave me on your precious ship?”
