Lalia screams. The blast knocks me back off my feet even partially concealed behind my own ship. I stumble, knocking into her, grabbing her around the waist before she can step out into the open.
“Hold her!” I yell to Yvonne, shoving Lalia to her chest and taking off around the back of my ship before I can consider alternate options.
Zane’s ship drops off its ruined landing gear, half-hitting the hangar floor. My stomach drops. Don’t panic, don’t panic. Behind his ship, the cyborg vessel lowers back to the ground. It did it to lure me out, taking out Zane with his guns.
It worked.
I bolt to the other ship. Blue flames lick up the sides of the metal, his ship’s guns continuing to break down now they’ve been ruined. It’s going to explode more the amount it has. I don’t have much time.
“Zane!” I yell. The airlock is sealed, unbroken, and there’s no way in hell I’m getting in there. The belly of the craft is half ruined, molten metal dripping from where the guns made contact. The number can easily kill me if I go in there, not to mention the crystal in the engine that’s not going to be stable any longer.
But Zane’s not answering me, and he’s nowhere to be seen.
I bolt for the underbelly of the ship, ignoring the wreckage and burning hot metal. Damn human should’ve stayed back in the hallways like I told him to. Even if he helped me.
Calling his name, I kick aside some of the loose metal on the underside of the ship already knocked mostly free by the explosion. Over the whir of the flames and creak of the already old ship taking itself apart, Bat’s metal nails clack on the floor and he scrambles around to join me, launching himself up through the nearest collapsing gap. Glad I’m wearing gloves, I yank at the nearest piece of metal, dragging myself up into the compartment under the engine.
Electricity hangs in the air. Hair stands up on the back of my neck, exposed skin prickling. Remembering the crystal explosion in the hangar of Taloon doesn’t exactly help me not panic.
Maneuvering over a jagged piece of the metal wall torn free in the explosion, I find the hatch up into the main compartment. Stuck. Ramming my shoulder into it, I vaguely wish I was small as Bat.
The entire ship shifts, tipping more to the ground as some of the remaining landing gear gives away. That number better not shoot us again.
With another sharp strike with my shoulder, the lock on the hatch snaps, and I crawl up into the main compartment, some of the metal flooring finally burning through my gloves. The entire side of the ship that took the most fire is collapsed, anything flammable spreading flames.
“Zane!” I call, finally spotting Bat under the console, tugging at a scrap of fabric. Zane’s pant leg.
Swearing, I shove my shoulder into the scrap of thick metal from the collapsed roof, bracing my feet against the side of the panel and shoving it aside until it falls out of the way.
Zane’s dead to the world, but breathing. Debris covers him, making it nearly impossible to discern actual injuries from surface scrapes and burns. Not important. He’s breathing.
He’s alive.
Something crashes directly behind me, shaking the ship so badly I’m knocked to the floor. Another explosion, and a shower of hot sparks. The unmistakable twang of ship guns.
It’s firing at us. It’s firing at us again. Knew it.
Something lets off a harsh crackle. The crystal.
“Shit.” I risk sitting up to grab Zane and yank his limp body roughly out from under the console and toward the hatch. No time to see if the airlock can still open. If the shots from the ship don’t break through all the metal and hit us, the crystal may still implode.
“Bat, get out of here!” Hopefully, he hears me over the roar of the guns and collapsing ship. There’s a blur as he hesitates before taking off past me down the hatch.
Dragging Zane over my shoulder so I don’t cut him open on all the jagged metal, I drop down the hatch, trying not to bang his head on all the tight spaces. The ship shakes. Not for the first time this month, I’m glad my body can take so much. I’m not sure I’d get him out of here if I were human.
The ship tips further, but there’s another loud shot, and the gunfire stops. I don’t know who fired at the Amerov ship, but someone distracted their fire.
But the hole I dragged myself in through is now pressed to the ground of the hangar, blocked. Smoke starts gathering, the air heating to a near unbearable level. Zane’s going to take it worse than I am, even unconscious. Something smells burnt, and I realize belatedly that it’s probably the human on my shoulder. I’m sure the hot metal scalded him. Damn. Dragging Zane into the massive gap of the ship’s remaining wing, I find the part of the wing that should have the thinnest metal.
Zane groans, coughing and waving an arm in half-conscious panic.
“Hold tight,” I tell him, grabbing onto a section of the inner wing holding some of the wires along the top, using it as a brace to slam both heels into the metal. It doesn’t budge nearly as much as I’d hope. More coughing from Zane, my body starting to panic more than I’d appreciate, telling me to get the hell out of here.
My knife.
Digging in my pocket, I flip out the electric knife I’d used to carve through the elevator floor and jab it into the metal, feeling it give on the other side as it breaks through. Finally. I dig it further in, ignoring the burning heat on my fingers as the wing metal heats, trying to find the seams of the metal paneling, the weakest parts. Giving another go at kicking through, the remaining bolts come loose. Another sheet of protective metal coats the outside, but it’s thinner, no match for the knife. Clean, recycled ship air hits my face. Grabbing a nearly-unconscious Zane under the shoulders, I throw us out, giving no care to landing gracefully. He lands mostly atop me, which hurts more than I imagined in a ten-foot drop. I’m sure he’ll have even more bruises, but it protects his head from smacking into the metal of the hangar floor.
Bat scrambles onto me before I can recover, dragging at my coat as the remainder of the wing above us tips our direction. Scrambling up, I drag Zane along, falling onto my back a little too near the ship for comfort as it finally seems to collapse in a way where it won’t move again.
“Zane!” Lalia calls. “Aaron!”
From the corner of my eye, I see her still trying to get around the ship at us, Yvonne’s arms locked around her, expression likewise stricken. Lalia has the huge rifle in her hands. She must’ve been the one to take some shots at the Amerov vessel. Saved our asses, probably.
“We’re alive! Stay back, the crystal’s unstable!” I call, waving at her, relieved when she stops struggling, even if Yvonne lets her take a step toward us.
Heat rolls off the burning ship. Hooking my arms under Zane’s I haul him over my shoulder, backing away from it. Bat keeps hovering around my feet, casting the ship nervous glances but not wanting to leave us.
“We’re okay,” I tell him, then to Zane, “hey, can you hear me—?”
There’s a scream from one of the girls before a needle-sharp set of fingers locks around the back of my neck, yanking me backward. Zane drops out of my arms, and I look into the face of the remaining number.
Lalia screams. The blast knocks me back off my feet even partially concealed behind my own ship. I stumble, knocking into her, grabbing her around the waist before she can step out into the open.
“Hold her!” I yell to Yvonne, shoving Lalia to her chest and taking off around the back of my ship before I can consider alternate options.
Zane’s ship drops off its ruined landing gear, half-hitting the hangar floor. My stomach drops. Don’t panic, don’t panic. Behind his ship, the cyborg vessel lowers back to the ground. It did it to lure me out, taking out Zane with his guns.
It worked.
I bolt to the other ship. Blue flames lick up the sides of the metal, his ship’s guns continuing to break down now they’ve been ruined. It’s going to explode more the amount it has. I don’t have much time.
“Zane!” I yell. The airlock is sealed, unbroken, and there’s no way in hell I’m getting in there. The belly of the craft is half ruined, molten metal dripping from where the guns made contact. The number can easily kill me if I go in there, not to mention the crystal in the engine that’s not going to be stable any longer.
But Zane’s not answering me, and he’s nowhere to be seen.
I bolt for the underbelly of the ship, ignoring the wreckage and burning hot metal. Damn human should’ve stayed back in the hallways like I told him to. Even if he helped me.
Calling his name, I kick aside some of the loose metal on the underside of the ship already knocked mostly free by the explosion. Over the whir of the flames and creak of the already old ship taking itself apart, Bat’s metal nails clack on the floor and he scrambles around to join me, launching himself up through the nearest collapsing gap. Glad I’m wearing gloves, I yank at the nearest piece of metal, dragging myself up into the compartment under the engine.
Electricity hangs in the air. Hair stands up on the back of my neck, exposed skin prickling. Remembering the crystal explosion in the hangar of Taloon doesn’t exactly help me not panic.
Maneuvering over a jagged piece of the metal wall torn free in the explosion, I find the hatch up into the main compartment. Stuck. Ramming my shoulder into it, I vaguely wish I was small as Bat.
The entire ship shifts, tipping more to the ground as some of the remaining landing gear gives away. That number better not shoot us again.
With another sharp strike with my shoulder, the lock on the hatch snaps, and I crawl up into the main compartment, some of the metal flooring finally burning through my gloves. The entire side of the ship that took the most fire is collapsed, anything flammable spreading flames.
“Zane!” I call, finally spotting Bat under the console, tugging at a scrap of fabric. Zane’s pant leg.
Swearing, I shove my shoulder into the scrap of thick metal from the collapsed roof, bracing my feet against the side of the panel and shoving it aside until it falls out of the way.
Zane’s dead to the world, but breathing. Debris covers him, making it nearly impossible to discern actual injuries from surface scrapes and burns. Not important. He’s breathing.
He’s alive.
Something crashes directly behind me, shaking the ship so badly I’m knocked to the floor. Another explosion, and a shower of hot sparks. The unmistakable twang of ship guns.
It’s firing at us. It’s firing at us again. Knew it.
Something lets off a harsh crackle. The crystal.
“Shit.” I risk sitting up to grab Zane and yank his limp body roughly out from under the console and toward the hatch. No time to see if the airlock can still open. If the shots from the ship don’t break through all the metal and hit us, the crystal may still implode.
“Bat, get out of here!” Hopefully, he hears me over the roar of the guns and collapsing ship. There’s a blur as he hesitates before taking off past me down the hatch.
Dragging Zane over my shoulder so I don’t cut him open on all the jagged metal, I drop down the hatch, trying not to bang his head on all the tight spaces. The ship shakes. Not for the first time this month, I’m glad my body can take so much. I’m not sure I’d get him out of here if I were human.
The ship tips further, but there’s another loud shot, and the gunfire stops. I don’t know who fired at the Amerov ship, but someone distracted their fire.
But the hole I dragged myself in through is now pressed to the ground of the hangar, blocked. Smoke starts gathering, the air heating to a near unbearable level. Zane’s going to take it worse than I am, even unconscious. Something smells burnt, and I realize belatedly that it’s probably the human on my shoulder. I’m sure the hot metal scalded him. Damn. Dragging Zane into the massive gap of the ship’s remaining wing, I find the part of the wing that should have the thinnest metal.
Zane groans, coughing and waving an arm in half-conscious panic.
“Hold tight,” I tell him, grabbing onto a section of the inner wing holding some of the wires along the top, using it as a brace to slam both heels into the metal. It doesn’t budge nearly as much as I’d hope. More coughing from Zane, my body starting to panic more than I’d appreciate, telling me to get the hell out of here.
My knife.
Digging in my pocket, I flip out the electric knife I’d used to carve through the elevator floor and jab it into the metal, feeling it give on the other side as it breaks through. Finally. I dig it further in, ignoring the burning heat on my fingers as the wing metal heats, trying to find the seams of the metal paneling, the weakest parts. Giving another go at kicking through, the remaining bolts come loose. Another sheet of protective metal coats the outside, but it’s thinner, no match for the knife. Clean, recycled ship air hits my face. Grabbing a nearly-unconscious Zane under the shoulders, I throw us out, giving no care to landing gracefully. He lands mostly atop me, which hurts more than I imagined in a ten-foot drop. I’m sure he’ll have even more bruises, but it protects his head from smacking into the metal of the hangar floor.
Bat scrambles onto me before I can recover, dragging at my coat as the remainder of the wing above us tips our direction. Scrambling up, I drag Zane along, falling onto my back a little too near the ship for comfort as it finally seems to collapse in a way where it won’t move again.
“Zane!” Lalia calls. “Aaron!”
From the corner of my eye, I see her still trying to get around the ship at us, Yvonne’s arms locked around her, expression likewise stricken. Lalia has the huge rifle in her hands. She must’ve been the one to take some shots at the Amerov vessel. Saved our asses, probably.
“We’re alive! Stay back, the crystal’s unstable!” I call, waving at her, relieved when she stops struggling, even if Yvonne lets her take a step toward us.
Heat rolls off the burning ship. Hooking my arms under Zane’s I haul him over my shoulder, backing away from it. Bat keeps hovering around my feet, casting the ship nervous glances but not wanting to leave us.
“We’re okay,” I tell him, then to Zane, “hey, can you hear me—?”
There’s a scream from one of the girls before a needle-sharp set of fingers locks around the back of my neck, yanking me backward. Zane drops out of my arms, and I look into the face of the remaining number.
