Ravok
Iduck and weave through a shower of metal projectiles. Another of the slugs manages to hit me and embed itself into my side. I barely pay it any attention. The wound burns, but I ignore it. My ship waits for me at the end of the hangar. All I need to do is make my way through the final handful of my captors who are still standing, and I’ll be able to get away.
A human male lunges for me. He’s different from the rest – bigger, tougher – and goes for my throat with a lethal kick, but I sidestep at the last moment. As our gaze meets, a flash of defiance fills his eyes.
A quick command sent to the nanites in my system connects me with my ship. I send a command to run a swift diagnostic before commencing the startup sequence.
All the while, I circle my opponent, looking for a flaw in his defense. Adrenaline surges through my veins as the human male roars, launching at me again with renewed ferocity. He swings his fists in a way that shows me he’s had some training in hand-to-hand combat. I weave and bob under his swings, unleashing my claws. The thrill of battle burns through me, a wildfire fueled by the desperate need to survive. The sting of a solid punch to my lower ribs right where I’d been shot sends shockwaves of agony radiating through my body, making me almost buckle for a moment. I straighten to my full height, enraged, as my nanites rush to the spot, immediately getting to work to slow the bleeding.
Pain is universal but fleeting. As a Cryzorian, I have been bred to push past and ignore discomfort. My opponent’s strength surprises me, but my own is fueled by a primal, almost feral, rage. Planet after planet, the Cryzor have scoured the cosmos in search of lesser species with resource-rich planets to take. If your species isn’t strong enough to defend yourselves, then you don’t deserve to claim sovereignty over your land and resources. This ‘Earth’ is the latest in a long line of acquisitions, but my time in the clutches of these humans has shown them to be more resourceful and ruthless than I’d expected. Despite their inferior technology, I expect they’ll put up a decent but ultimately doomed fight.
The floor of the hangar is littered with the fallen. Scattered soldiers who have tasted the might of the Cryzorian race lay silent and broken on the floor. A silent testament to the fury of a caged beast. Today, they have met their match.
With one final roar of defiance, I wrap one clawed hand around my combatant’s throat and bury the claws of my other hand into his gut. Raising his body above my head, I slam him into the floor. I dispassionately stare at his crumpled form as my sensors indicate that the man is still alive. Panting, he glares up at me, but all I see is the path to my ship. Not wanting to leave behind anyone who might try to slow me down, I swipe up one of the blood-smeared weapons dropped by one of the deceased soldiers. With two quick squeezes of the trigger, the male jerks and finally falls dead. I stride across the floor, carelessly stepping over the fallen. My ship reverberates as my nanites begin to give me the results of their analysis. When I get to the base of my vessel, the hatch slides open, welcoming me back.
I scan my ship, my heartbeat synchronizing with the hum of its core. My eyes narrow as they catch a wrongness – a couple of exterior panels have been pried open. The corrupt hands of the scientists and soldiers must’ve been all over my ship, trying to unlock secrets they can barely conceive. Striding towards the compromised panels, I’m spitting curses, my anger manifesting as a near-physical force.
Kneeling beside the open panels, I push back the rising tide of fury to focus on my task. The damage is minimal. Retracting my claws, I mentally pull up a wiring schematic. I quickly survey the complex mesh of wiring and valves concealed within. A few connections hang loose – physically torn apart, speaking to the brutish ways of these primitives.
With a growl, I quickly fix the damage the humans have done to my ship. Experience breeds efficiency, and what might take human engineers days to figure out takes me mere seconds. The panels hum as the circuitry comes back to life. It’s a comforting sound, one that successfully drains some of my residual anger.
Gently lifting the panels, I realign them with the ship’s outer skin. This vessel, a scout-class spaceship, is small by Cryzorian standards but significantly advanced compared to any Earth technology. The panels click back into place, morphing the ship back into its original sleek form – a shadowy sentinel gleaming under the harsh light of the hangar.
I take one more sweeping look around the hangar. The clamor of the alarm and flashing lights still blare, but no one is left to put up a resistance. I imagine more humans are gearing up to storm the hangar, but I will be long gone before they breach the space. I almost let out a breath of relief as I step into the sanctuary of my spaceship. A familiar hum greets me, the reactor core glowing with life. The spacecraft is small, hardly bigger than one of the human vehicles. It is only meant to get one Cryzorian Outrider across the universe to scout for resources. It is minimalist and fluid – most of the ship’s bulk is devoted to the engine. Piercing through the unending cosmos with an aggressive purpose, it’s a testament to my objective.
I stride past the cryo-pod where I’ve spent countless light-years of travel. I enter the cockpit, a tight, confined space filled with a constellation of blinking lights and advanced tech. The pilot’s seat, a contoured cradle for a Cryzorian body, beckons and I slide in. There’s the comforting hum of systems coming online, familiar instruments lighting up in readiness.
A low growl resonates in my chest when a systems alert appears on the screen. The diagnostic glaring back at me paints a picture of compromised systems. My biggest concern is that the navigation systems have been tampered with.
“Cursed mongrels,” I spit. My voice is filled with a blend of disgust and exasperation. In the same way that the humans had cut into me with artless hands, they’ve rummaged around my ship, blundering around things they couldn’t possibly comprehend. These idiotic, bumbling creatures with their sub-knowledge of technology.
I tap a button and pull up a holographic blueprint of my ship, the erratic blinking of compromised sectors flashing an urgent red. Gripping the edges of the control panel, I grimly acknowledge the fact. My vessel won’t be soaring through the cosmos until these systems are fixed. The audacity of these puny creatures, to dare to touch Cryzorian technology with their soft, stupid hands. It fills my thoughts with a volatile mix of anger and determination. This entire species is going to regret ever daring to even look in my direction. I vow suffering on these humans the likes of which they can’t even fathom. It’s a war cry I savor, the fury of a thousand suns latching onto my very core.
As I initiate the ignition sequence, the engine rumbling to life vibrates through me, a testament to Cryzor’s might and power.
My hands navigate expertly around the control panel, flipping switches and pressing buttons as my eyes dart to the flashing screens. Once satisfied that each step is completed, I turn my attention to the onboard weapon system.
I activate the photonic cannons, and the sound of the weapon hums to life under my feet. A satisfied grin breaks across my face as I wrap my fingers around the trigger. With a single squeeze of my fingers, a beam of bright pulsating energy rips through the reinforced doors of the hangar, tearing through the steel like gossamer threads beneath a fist. As the seared metal crumbles away, the way is clear. Grabbing the steering yoke in my hands, I engage the booster engines and my ship shoots out of the hangar, bursting into the night sky.
As the world falls away beneath me, a new resolute determination fills my thoughts. No matter what occurs next, I will never allow myself to be taken hostage by humans again. I push the ship harder, glancing briefly back at the dwindling lights below.
Once I am safely out of their reach, I hunt for a secluded place, untouched and away from the busy hubs of the human scourge crawling all over this planet. I will land and repair my ship for the monumental journey ahead. But first, more importantly, I must drop a homing beacon for Cryzor into orbit in the planet’s exosphere: a guiding marker to let my people know I have found a planet worth harvesting. I aim my ship toward the outer atmosphere to ensure nothing will interfere with sending my message.
Setting my coordinates for the upper atmosphere, I look out my ship’s viewing screen, staring at the patchwork of water and verdant forests below, digesting the unfamiliar panorama of this strange planet. I admit that it is interesting to look at – it will almost be a shame that this planet will soon be turned into nothing more than a used-up husk. Despite a momentary pang, I am hopeful. The discovery of this planet might garner me enough status to earn a promotion. Very few Outriders ever get the chance to upgrade their designation.
The thought of returning to Cryzor and perhaps being promoted to Overseer with my own authority and troop fills me with resolve, stamping out my slight and unwanted pity for this planet and its people. I envision the respect my discovery might garner. Perhaps my endless voyage, my life cooped up in the confined space of a scout ship, might not be all that awaits me. My greatest hope is that I might one day stand tall on the soil of Cryzor again, a conqueror, a champion, no longer a mere scout in the never-ending expanse of the universe. Most Outriders are sent into the vastness of space, their mission never-ending.
I find my thoughts drifting back to my memories of Cryzor, although it’s been many years since my feet last stood on the soil of my home planet. I can easily envision our commanding silver cities glowing against the light of the twin suns. There is a deep longing within me – a commanding urge – to elevate my standing among my people. I yearn to succeed in my mission and return home. More than just ambition fuels this desire; it is a dream of a future possibility – a chance to secure my legacy. I may not be a high-ranking Cryzorian now, but I will change that. A vision surfaces from the depths of my consciousness: of me, contributing my DNA to the continuity of our race, engendering a lineage that would live and breathe my spirit long after I have transcended my mortal confines.
I quickly key in the coordinates for this planet and encode them to send to my people. As I am about to send my message, my ship jolts and shudders beneath me. A claxon begins to ring, its piercing wail sending my heartbeat galloping.
The familiar hum of my ship turns into a menacing coughing growl as lights switch from serene blue to a pulsating ruby red. A robotic voice drones in my native tongue, “Critical systems failure. Immediate action required.”
Desperate, I seize the controls, knuckles whitening around the yoke, yanking it up to no avail. The ship spirals out of control, spinning wildly and rocking violently back and forth. I brace my feet against the floor, struggling against the power of excessive gravitational force pressing against my chest.
For a fleeting moment, Earth’s horizon fills the ship’s front view, a stunning, picturesque scene of blues and greens beneath a dark star-filled sky. Guided by sheer instinct and the formidable will to survive, I reroute all remaining energy to the shielding system.
My last impression of the outside world is blurred – a disturbing blend of midnight-dark sky and earth closing in at a terrifying pace. The ship impacts the ground, skipping like a stone thrown across a lake, causing the world to roll around me in chaotic motion.
Pain explodes throughout my body as I am thrust against my safety harness. My heart skips a beat as I hear a loud crash echoing through the quiet woods. I stare at the view screen in horror as the ship chaotically tumbles, its size trampling through a forest. The only thing keeping me from being tossed around the ship like a limp doll is my harness. Metal screams and crunches, the noise deafening in my ears. The agonizing jolt of my organs colliding against the insides of my body is matched only by the shrill keening of the ship as it grinds to a halt.
Harsh, biting agony courses up my spine, a taste of searing acid blossoms in my mouth, and a relentless pounding in my skull traps me in waves of exquisite suffering. My eyes snap open, trying to see around the interior of my now-dark ship. The alarm is now eerily silent, and the creaking of the ship settling is the only sound I can hear in my ringing ears. I’ve never felt agony like this – not even when the human scientists cut me open without using a numbing agent. Nanites swarm through my bloodstream already at work on the worst of my injuries. Without them, I would have already bled out. When I try to unstrap and get out of my chair, my leg buckles beneath me and I land on the floor in a shuddering heap. My breaths come in syrupy gasps, and every inhalation rattles in my lungs. My nanites continue their relentless chorus, unleashing coded readings about damaged lung tissue, internal bleeding, and fractured bones. The situation prompts a shudder, my entire being awash with an onslaught of pain, a testament to my incapacitated state.
Once I am able to push away the darkness of looming unconsciousness, I drag myself from the wreckage, each movement more painful than the last. The scent of overheated metal and ozone fills my nostrils as I pull myself along the floor, inch by agonizing inch, toward the escape hatch at the back of the ship. With a last surge of energy, I command my nanites to activate the door panel, the world blurring around me.
The door obeys my command, beginning to slide open. But as the cool air of Earth brushes against my hot, damaged flesh, my strength gives way. I fall out of the hatch, tumbling onto the dirt. A pained gasp leaves my lips as agony swamps every inch of my body. My vision is failing, and my nanites are shutting down my body.
An almost ethereal sight draws my fading focus as the veil of unconsciousness descends. Bathed in the weak lunar light, a tiny figure emerges, soft and silent in the dark forest. For a moment, I think that it is a hallucination but then I realize that it’s a female. Before I can marvel at seeing a female, darkness swamps me.
CHAPTER 10
Lily
As I drive down the narrow, rutted road that Koko’s directions say will take me to the cabin, I roll down my window. Breathing in the robust scents of pine and damp earth, with a hint of the ocean from this distance, my fingers grip the page of the directions I was given. The waning daylight barely cuts through the canopy of the towering trees closing me in. A shudder courses through me as a waft of chilly evening air slips through the thickened woods, curving around the narrow road.
Somewhere in the depths of the woods, an owl hoots, a deep mournful sound that hangs in the cold air, making Mango twitch in his crate. “It’s alright, buddy. Not much further now,” I promise him, pushing forward. The sun sets as I drive and the dark settles over my surroundings. Even my headlights seem to barely make a dent in the dark woods.
