Saying Hello to Darkness
06 Oct 2017Luke3107
Authors Note:This logbook is a direct conclusion to the RP events that took place starting on Citi Gateway and concluding Off Station.===============================================================================================
"Mirra?" The man had said, pinching his nose. "Twinkle-Toes... I dunno about no Mirra but the woman you were with was processed and packed off before you even cleared the starting platform."
This didn't sit right with Luke, but he still refused to accept the man's offer and as such, had found himself being lead to a luxury resting area amidst insinuations that he was clearly 'tired' and 'not thinking straight' about the potential fame and riches. Apparently this area was reserved primarily for game survivors or people who'd impressed the owners somehow.
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Sitting in his luxurious Beluga Liner, Luke stared out at the black space in front of him. The lights of the surrounding galactic core bent and warped around the supermassive black hole. His mind had been very much a mixing pot of emotions and as such, he'd barely registered the trip he’d taken. In fact, he only knew how long it had been due to a notification on his data-pad:
"Luke, piloting his Beluga Liner, Googolplex, came very close to completing the journey in under 24 hours, but didn't quite achieve that mark, with a final time of 24 hours and 10 minutes."
Of course the Buckyballers, a popular racing club Luke had joined a long while ago, had spotted his charge from the bubble. Despite the impulsive nature of his decision, he’d stopped at Sol in order to ensure his ship was up to the task. Now he was a class record holder as a result of his flight from civilised space to Sagittarius A*, the black hole in the centre of the galaxy. A prestigious position to hold within the crowd and something to very much be proud of.
Luke tried, and failed, to care.
It had cost him too much. Not in fuel, or damages, but an unpayable price. A personal debt that he'd never clear, in his eyes. So here he sat, staring at the terrifying yet serene view in front of him. It had crossed his mind to push the throttle forward and find out for himself what was beyond the Event Horizon. But it was a mere passing thought that never came to fruition and it was hard to tell if this was a result of dark emotions or his curiosity.
With a heavy sigh, he leaned back into his pilot's chair and turned it to face the back of the cavernous space that served as the ship's cockpit. The 2 empty chairs either side of him reminding him he was on his own. Saud Kruger was well known for its excessive designs and filling their vessels with the amenities and luxuries one would expect in a hotel. A massive cockpit, despite only having 3 positions to fill, merely served to demonstrate that fact. Closing his eyes he recounted the events that put him here.
Arriving at the InGaBa, meeting Mhera Bathana, agreeing to become her pilot and heading out to the Pleiades. Then the arrival of aliens and finally pirates... His eyes watered as he recalled the downward spiral they took upon entering the Maia System. How they'd been interdicted, how he'd promised to protect her and make sure she would be safe, how he'd so utterly and catastrophically failed.
Then there was that sick game they'd forced him into. He caught his hand rubbing his upper right arm, where several scars resided. The memory caused him to grimace as though the pain was still there. It had been an ordeal, to put it lightly. Even now he had no idea how he'd gotten out alive. Every breath he took caused the healing wound on his chest to rub lightly against his RemLock. It was uncomfortable, not painful, but still a distraction. He needed to clear his head and come to terms with his life as it was now, but the various aches and pains still nagging at him prevented that.
His mind still swimming in confused thoughts and feelings, he pushed himself from the chair and began making his way to his cabin. A not-exactly-short walk in the 200 metre long Beluga. He walked the long corridor with a slight limp from the still aching leg. It hadn't been broken as he'd originally suspected, but it had suffered from a pretty badly torn calf muscle.
Arriving in his quarters he peeled off his RemLock, hissing as it pulled on the dressing covering the chest wound.
The young man stood in front of a mirror, scrutinizing his body. His eyes fell upon the number of wounds he’d accumulated over his life.
Surgical scars on his upper legs, faded but still visible, reminded him of the crash he'd been in during his training to become a member of the Pilots Federation. He unwound the bandage to reveal the bullet wounds on his upper right arm, a memento from the drones that had chased him around the maze and simultaneously saved his life and tried to end it. Dark bruising on his lower left leg, a testament to the weight of the drone he'd pulled down and ripped out the internals of. Finally, he peeled the thin, bloodied dressing off his chest and displayed a long, ugly scar that reached from his left shoulder blade, down to his bottom rib on his right hand side, providing some recollection of his close encounter with a Scythe-Cat.
It was still hard to tell, at this point, which wounds would heal completely and which ones would leave their marks, physically at least. Mental trauma was something he’d usually dealt with easily. Passing off a major incident as simply a fact of life, these things happen to other people and, to those other people, that’s exactly what he was. But this one was determined to stick around as he found himself playing out yet more ‘what-if’ scenarios while he padded quietly into the larger than usual shower cubicle.
What if he fought the interdiction harder instead of submitting? Or actually attempted to flee the system once the FSD had cooled down? Perhaps, instead of concocting a clever plan to catch the invaders off guard, he should have simply opened fire on them at the first opportunity?
This constant mental assault served simply to negate any relaxation he’d hoped to garner from the hot shower. He was no closer to accepting the fate he’d been handed than he was twenty-four hours ago when he fled civilised space. One thing the shower had accomplished, however, was to exacerbate the exhaustion threatening to take over his body as he patted himself dry, taking care not to reopen any wounds, before digging out his first aid kit and applying fresh coverings to his wounds. It was by no means an expert job, but he felt he could argue that his untrained attempt was still an improvement over the so called ‘medics’ that had applied the original bandages. Although the weird, cartoonish figure that emblazoned some of the original band-aids were still more visibly appealing than the assortment of whites and browns that now adorned his injuries.
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Arriving at the luxury resting area wasn’t as ceremonious as he might have anticipated. Although given the circumstances, Luke couldn’t say he was surprised as his escort shut the door behind him and the unmistakeable, if muffled, sound of a lock turning was heard. His head was still buzzing with the aftermath of his game, with the painkillers he’d been given also losing their effect.
Some time ago the ‘couches’ that were dotted around the room were likely brightly coloured with their barely visible floral patterns brightening up a front room. Now they were couches in merely the sense of the word, with odd coloured stains adorning their drab and faded fabrics. A few of them even had sharp objects protruding through them. He made a mental note to avoid those ones lest he catch an unwanted infection.
Pushing all other thoughts aside, he focussed on one thing he knew he’d need to do.
Get Mhera. Get out. Go home…
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Luke sat bolt upright in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. He’d had a nightmare, that’s all it was. But it had felt incredibly real. His bed was soaked, and the covers a tangled mess. He didn’t even realise he’d fallen asleep but clearly he’d been seriously thrashing around. Pillows had been knocked onto the floor and he’d torn a few of his bandages, those that weren’t torn off were coming unstuck as his sweat dissolved the adhesive holding them in place.
Climbing out of bed, he resigned himself to peeling the bandages off and taking another shower. The nightmare replayed in short sections in his head, most of it a blur but small segments came back in full clarity. His ship had been attacked and invaded, then he’d been in the cockpit assessing the damage. Next he knew he was in the cargo bay, there’d been a tall, heavy built man in a full black RemLock and mirrored visor and a woman who seemed vaguely familiar. He couldn’t recall her face clearly, but the strawberry blonde hair and gentle features...
Then things spiralled out of control. Luke had drawn his sidearm, and the man had done the same. A verbal exchange had ensued, then two shots were fired. One into the head of the woman, and then one at Luke. The flashback of the moment the woman died made Luke realise why she seemed familiar. Even in his own imagination he was incompetent and incapable of protecting just one person. His knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor of the shower, shaking and defeated.
Some time passed by before he regained the strength to rise again. Enough that the water had caused the skin on his hands and feet to shrivel up considerably, making grabbing the railing quite tricky and the waterproof floor more slippery than usual. But he was able to dry himself, reapply fresh dressings, and get changed into something comfortable without difficulty, even if on autopilot. Which suited him fine, the less noise his head was making, the less crap he felt about himself.
Despite knowing there’d be nothing to find, he did find himself wandering through the cargo hold, no signs of a struggle or dead bodies were to be found anywhere. Not that he’d expected to, it just felt necessary to check. Next he found himself in the viewing lounge. A massive room that spanned the length of the ship, with a clear roof un-impeded by structural reinforcements to allow passengers to marvel at the sights they’d likely have paid considerable sums to visit. Right now it was just filled with the brown-white glow of the Galactic Core, not an impressive or mesmerising view on its own, but when Luke stood at the back end and looked as far down the vessel as he could, the top of the supermassive black hole he’d parked beside was just visible. Well, the starlight warping around it anyway.
As awkward of an angle as it was to stare at the terrifying beauty of Sagittarius A*, it offered Luke some strange perspective on his own life. Black holes were probably the most powerful thing in the galaxy, trapping everything from dust particles to entire planets if one should stray too close. Even light itself was not immune to the immense pull of these beasts. Yet, despite all their power, despite their inescapable pull, they too died eventually. Everything died eventually. Everyone died eventually. The bounties Luke reaped, their victims, his opponent in that sick game, even…
He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring himself to add her name to that list. Doing so would force him to confront himself, and he didn’t think he’d like what he saw. Something had broken inside of him, and now he was stuck feeling like two different people at once; one half wanting to retreat into a self contained bubble where everything was how he wanted it to be, the other half demanding acknowledgement and action.
But what action? Here he was, sat in the literal centre of the galaxy. In every direction a seemingly endless number of destinations with all but two of them being populated. If he picked a random direction, odds were he’d never see civilisation again for as long as he lived. But whether he could handle that sort of solitude was lost on him. He wasn’t averse to being on his own, often locking himself away when things got too much to handle. The difference was these occasions only lasted a short time and he was able to return if, and when, he pleased. This would be akin to self imposed exile.
Was it necessary to go back, though? As far as anyone was concerned he was dead too. He was pretty sure even his captors would too, given the circumstances of his departure from the Pleiades. The memory of his exit brought a small grin to his lips. He felt the plan had been exceedingly clever, even if it wasn’t of his own creation. It did make him wonder where his counterpart had ended up. They’d escaped on separate ships bound for separate destinations, knowing full well they’d not see each other for a long time, if ever. A price they’d both been more than happy to pay.
Wherever Kane was, Luke hoped he was doing far better than himself anyway.
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”You said you had a plan.”
“I do have one, but plans change, son, we’re going to have to split up.”
“Kane… Seriously, I….”
“Shh.” The bearded man threw his hand over Luke's mouth, silencing his response, as a guard wandered slowly into earshot then walked on by with barely a glance at them. “You heard the man. She’s gone, shipped off. You might be able to track the ship, if you’re lucky.”
Luke frowned and pulled the hand from his face.
“How am I supposed to track it when all I know is a Type-7, that MIGHT have her aboard, left barely minutes after we arrived?” Luke retorted.
The only response he got was a chuckle and a grin from his companion.
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It was now day three in the galactic core and Luke was getting used to waking up with the bed covers thrown off him and a cold sweat soaking his mattress. It was the same dream every night, his ship was under attack, he ran to the cargo hold, then two gunshots. Following his now automatic routine, he got up, washed, checked and changed his dressings, then aimlessly wandered the cavernous halls of his Beluga.
He hadn’t decided where he would go from the galaxy’s core, or what he would do, but he had concluded that he wasn’t going back to the bubble. He was done. His parents and sister would miss him no doubt, maybe a few friends, but he’d send a message through K-Cast now and then to stay in touch. How much he’d tell them though, that was a question he’d struggle to answer until he actually got around to doing it. Something he made a mental note to do as he found himself in the cockpit of his ship.
So there were now two paths in front of him as he took his position in the central seat. Not bad work narrowing it down from the infinite possibilities before. Colonia was a great place for a new start, the newly populated region of space was, itself, newly starting out. He could have his collection of ships transported there, and do what he’d always done by fulfilling odd jobs here and there in order to help build a new bubble of civilisation. Mind you, he’d always wanted to visit the various compass points of the galaxy. Start off by travelling ‘North’, to Beagle Point and beyond, then stop off at ‘East’ and ‘West’, travelling as far outward as humanly possible each time. A quick stop to both the highest and lowest points, above and below the core respectively, then head to the ‘South’ point. The final stop would take him the closest to the main Bubble. That’s why it was the last one, by then he’d have no reason to go back and the temptation to do so would be gone.
But what then, though? Sure, the journey itself would likely take the best part of a year at least. Even longer if he decided to visit the various sights on the way. There were, after all, multiple tourist beacons placed by some enterprising explorers who had seen incredible views and points of interest and shared them with the galaxy. That could extend his self banishment to more than two years. He had the equipment on board to do so, all he’d need to do is stop off at a station to gather supplies first. So, Colonia it was then. At least at first. Maybe he’d hang around for a few days, make sure Googolplex was given a good service beforehand. Whatever the plan, it seemed his journey had once again been decided for him, rather than by him.
Luke simply shook his head, and plotted his course to the newfound civilisation of Colonia.
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It was a tight fit, but as long as nobody looked directly from above, Luke was certain he wouldn’t be found in his hiding place. But the wait was torture nonetheless. Somewhere, in one of the other ferries leaving the station, Kane was likely experiencing the same thing. The odds they’d both escape were slim, and despite all he’d done to help, Luke selfishly hoped that if anyone was to be caught, it was Kane.
He sat, cramped and sore for what felt like ages, waiting with baited breath as an unsuspecting crewman placed a pallet, or something heavy, over the top of him, effectively sealing him off from the rest of the ship. The thought that he might no longer be able to breathe had crossed his mind, but there was nothing he could do now as the familiar pull of the ship undocking signalled his imminent departure.
All he could do was sit and wait, hoping that the security scans wouldn’t register his extra signature aboard the ship.
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Travelling from Sagittarius A* to Colonia was, by no means, a short journey. Unfortunately for Luke this meant ample time to change his mind. Fortunately for him, he was what some would call determined, while others called it stubbornness. Either way, despite the small voice in the back of his head constantly telling him to return, he was still determined to get to Jacques Station and gather his supplies.
The Beluga Liner shook slightly as he dropped out in front of what felt like the hundredth orange star. The computerised voice gave out its mantra of “Fuel Scoop, Engaged” then, a minute later, “Fuel Scoop, Disengaged,” followed by a loud ‘clunk’ as the scoop finished topping off the hydrogen in his fuel tank. Although the repetition was slightly annoying, he couldn’t bring himself to silence the computer. Despite all his intentions to be alone, the voice was company. Even if he was now mouthing the second half of its mantra along with it, “Frame Shift Drive, Charging.”
So, did that mean he wasn’t ready for exile? Perhaps he had been too hasty in his decision, despite having sat on it for several days. Or maybe he was getting a dose of what was often called ‘Space-Madness’ by many intrepid explorers. The details of the madness were often quite vague, maybe it differed from person to person, but one thing stayed constant throughout all instances, it was the loneliness that got to you first. A stop off at a busy station might educate him on his own needs right now. A quick glance at the Navigational Computer told him it wasn’t far to his destination at least.
Thinking about it, Space-Madness, wasn’t an actual medical condition as far as he was aware. It was still a threat, no doubt about that. But the few details Luke had gathered over his time often lent itself to the theory that it was really a combination of actual illnesses. Schizophrenia, Multiple-Personality Disorder and Depression were just a few of the issues people developed if they spent too long away from company. Humans were, after all, social creatures at heart.
There were some explorers who frequently made the GalNet news for their accomplishments. More often than not these were people who had spent months, even years out in the black, sending data packets with pictures and system information back to the bubble whenever the circumstances permitted. Luke was under no illusion he’d be capable of accomplishing such lofty heights. His relatively small accomplishments within the Buckyball Racing Club satisfied his desires enough.
He was too fickle for that life anyway. Finding himself jumping from ship to ship on a whim simply because he got bored of doing whatever task he’d been doing previously. Shaking his head once again, he realised his plans of self exile were slowly being dismantled by his own logic. Being so far from home for so long wouldn’t suit him. He liked being able to do what he liked, when he liked, and being sixty-thousand light-years from home meant he was just under a week from home at any given moment. Even that timescale was only if he flew non stop. Taking it easy, would likely take a fortnight at least.
Colonia came into view just as he realised his path had, again, been decided on his behalf.
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It took a while to get his bearings, but once he had, Luke rapidly moved his plans into motion. By sheer happenstance, his Beluga Liner was stationed only four systems away, so getting it transported would mean less than an hour’s wait. The rest would take several hours to get to him. It wasn’t an ideal ship for search and rescue, but he had limited clues to follow and waiting would only make those clues less useful.
Sat in the empty waiting room, he found himself fidgeting more than usual, staring as the clock above the help-desk ticked over another minute. As if on cue, the bored woman sat behind the glass partition rose from her stupor and called him over.
Minutes later, he was requesting permission to depart the station, hoping beyond hope he wasn’t too late.
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His short, two night stay at Jacques Station in Colonia had been a fairly pleasant one. Opting to stay in one of the many assorted tourist accommodations rather than on board his ship, he found his mind staying at ease. He still had the nightmares, but they were less vivid and he wasn’t waking up in a pool of sweat. They bothered him less too, whether that was because he was getting used to them, or thanks to having a different bed to sleep on, he figured he’d find out when he began his journey back to the Bubble.
Right now, he was sat with a coffee-like drink and a synthetic bacon roll in a small cafe overlooking the hangars. His own ship was only just visible from where he was, but he knew without looking that the crew were just finishing up with freshening the paintwork. Not a particularly important requirement for a long distance trip, but Googolplex had been through a lot. She deserved a treat.
An audible ping from his backpack drew his attention from the barely flavoured ‘meat’ he was chewing on. Reaching down, he pulled out his new dataslate, the old one having been left aboard ‘The Beagle’ when the pirates had stolen it. Tapping it open, he discovered the ping to be alerting him that work was now complete on his ship. Nodding to himself, he finished off the last morsels of his food, left a generous tip, and made his way to the hangars.
Sitting back in his cockpit, Luke ran through his diagnostics to double check the crew had indeed made all the repairs he’d requested. Not out of distrust, just caution. Once that had been done, he brought up the Galaxy Map and began cross-referencing it with a list of tourist destinations he’d picked up on his way to the hangar. Filling in a few that sounded interesting, he decided these would double up as rest stops on his way back to the Bubble. It only took a few moments, but the thought of heading back had lifted his mood slightly.
Receiving his permission to depart, he carefully lifted the large vessel from its landing pad and guided it out of the mailslot, leaving enough space for a Keelback to squeeze by on one side. Before charging up his Frame Shift Drive, he made a point to put on some music to keep him occupied during the journey. Flicking through his dataslate once more to do so, he spotted a banner on a public message board he frequented. The message board served as a place where CMDRs of all walks could have conversations no matter how far apart they were. It was quite useful, and although Luke had never met anyone from it in person, it wasn’t unheard of.
The banner in question was for the opening of a new Casino. People were invited to RSVP with their name in order to be permitted to attend the opening ceremony. Just the ideal thing for someone looking to chase away bad thoughts and memories for a night. The only misgiving he had, was this Casino was to be opened up within the Pegasi region of the Bubble. A region of space that homed numerous pirate factions and was even the Headquarters for the infamous Archon Delaine, leader of the Kumo Crew. It seemed an odd place to open such a venue. He simply shrugged off his concerns and promptly asked for his name to be put down. Waiting for a moment he received confirmation his name would be added and he returned his dataslate to the pouch on the side of his chair and began charging his Frame Shift Drive.
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In the light of a bright O-Class star, a long slender vessel, with a pristine glossy paintjob of red, blue and white, sat in very stark contrast to the floating ruins around it.
The pilot, Luke, simply staring out at the debris field that used to be a Type-7 Transport. The expression on his face one of dismay and defeat. This was it for him. He'd fought off robots, scythe-cats and psychopaths in an effort to rescue Mhera, only for it all to have been for nothing. An escape pod bumped gently against the ship's hull, its cracked canopy and lack of lights signifying its power was gone. If there was an occupant, he or she wasn't spared the vacuum of space.
It was clear to him that whoever, or whatever, had attacked this ship, hadn’t left any survivors.
Without a word, or even another glance. The Beluga Liner simply turned, charged its FSD and in the blink of an eye, left the debris field alone once again.
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It had now been a few days since Luke left Colonia, his music still playing loudly in the cockpit as he sang jovially along with a tune he was all too familiar with. He wasn’t a great singer by any means, but since he was the only one aboard that was of very little concern to him. The few destinations he’d stopped at had given him some wonderful views. A small black hole warped and merged the colours of the surrounding nebula to give some excellent colour variation. A planet orbiting a white dwarf, providing a unique view of the mountains silhouetted against the jet streams that swirled and spun from opposing poles of the star.
Next up was one labelled simply ‘Amazing Sky’. What he’d encounter there was, like the others, a surprise to him. He had refrained from looking up anything about the tourist sites, lest he spoil them for himself. All he knew was this one was another planetary landing site. Since he was going to be setting the Googolplex down, he also decided he’d park up for a few hours and get some sleep.
The downside to the journey was that his nightmares had returned in full force. Every night was the same old routine, and now he’d decided to keep fresh sheets laundered at all times. He’d wake up, fix his bedding, reapply the few dressings he still required, and go straight back to sleep. Thankfully the second sleep was usually uninterrupted, even if it did only last a couple of hours at a time. The thought had occurred to him that it might be wise to get a prescription for sleeping meds. Maybe even see someone about everything that had happened. A decision for another time perhaps, but right now he was turning the Beluga away from a star and heading towards the destination he had in mind.
While the ship was in supercruise towards a small planet, he decided to take a look at the message board once again. Nodding to himself he noted that he wasn’t the only one to take up the offer of attending the open night. It was certainly looking to be a fairly busy event, a chance to make new friends, or even bump into some older ones as he noticed ‘Jacob Cartlidge’ and ‘Ten’ both voicing their interest, as well as the mysterious ‘Nick’ whom he’d failed to meet last time he visited Citi Gateway.
One conversation caught his eye for some reason, going by the image linked to the account, this was a large bodybuilder type man. Stryker, he called himself, and he was bringing a plus one. Luke gave a small snort at the name, there were some odd ones out there, but this was a new one to him. It seemed odd that such a fellow would go to a Casino night though. All tuxedos and fancy gowns. He couldn’t help but think a man like that would look like a dressed up action figure. Still, who was he to judge?
Shrugging it off, he returned the dataslate to its pouch and steered the ship into Orbital Cruise as the planet rapidly approached. Taking note of the location for the tourist beacon, he kept the ship high so as to cross the distance quickly, before dipping the nose down again as it got closer. The task required concentration, dip too far down and the ship would drop out too rapidly, putting a strain on the hull and internals and causing damage throughout the entire vessel. Too shallow and Luke would almost certainly overshoot the destination and be forced to circle around and try again. The former could be lethal, the latter was very time consuming.
This made it all the more annoying that his dataslate kept pinging audibly at him. The music he had on had reached a quiet section, so the shrill ping from the pad stood out more than usual. Just as Luke dipped the nose down towards his destination, he took note of the distance on his HUD.
Two kilometers away, plenty of time then.
He pulled the dataslate from his pouch, and searched for the mute function.
One and a half kilometers.
There we go, notifications off. Perfect. Oh, Stryker posted again. He took a quick glance at his HUD.
One kilometer.
Stealing one more look at his pad, he noted that the event organiser had enquired for a name for Stryker's ‘plus one’.
750 meters.
Luke sat frozen at the name Stryker had put. It couldn’t be. She was dead…
500 meters
“Mhera Bathana”... Luke tensed up suddenly, cracking the screen of the dataslate, then realised he was supposed to be landing the ship. Looking up at the HUD once more, there was barely 300 meters left before he hit the ground. He pulled the nose up, and pushed the thrusters to full in order to brake as much as possible. Hitting the ground was inevitable, but if he could just soften the impact...
It wasn’t enough, the full two-thousand tons of the Beluga Liner smacked into the ground at considerable speed. Luke's Remlock slammed shut and his pilot chair restraints engaged, preventing him from being thrown out of the now shattered canopy.
His life support timer flicked on; he had seven minutes of life left, and he was in pain. Again. Lots of it. In the distance, about forty meters away, the tourist beacon pinged away happily like nothing had happened.
As the blue timer ticked down, Luke could swear the light from the tourist beacon was getting brighter. However, the timer had already reached zero, and all he felt was his eyelids shutting.
******************************
An explosion rocked the ship sideways, unsettling his balance as he pulled on his RemLock. The main lights in the Beluga went down and was replaced with the imposing red hue of the emergency lighting instead.
Running down the corridor to the cockpit, another explosion rocked the ship again, nearly throwing Luke into the wall as he frantically punched the access code into the cockpit security lock. The door slid open, flooding the hallway with various alarm signals and computer voiced warnings.
Panic threatened to climb up from his chest, but he forced it down and got on with assessing the damage and locating the source. The bright lights of the galactic core filled the canopy but offered no clue as to who was attacking, or even if someone was attacking.
“Hull at 50%,” came the shrill, monotonous voice of the shipboard computer.
Hitting several buttons on his dashboard he brought up a ship layout, in the standard orange of the ship’s HUD, with various shades of red signifying the majority of the damage was located to the rear and bottom of the hull.
“Intruders Detected, Cargo Bay,” came the female voice again.
Without hesitation, Luke ran to the back of the cockpit and grabbed a bolt pistol from the lockers. *Strange* he thought, but simply shrugged it off and made his way to the cargo bay as fast as he could.
As he approached the door he could hear sounds of a struggle, judging by the noise it was a male and a female. Although who would be struggling against the intruders? He was alone aboard 'Googolplex', wasn’t he? Bracing himself against the wall by the door, he hit the button and the door slid open silently. The only sounds he could hear now were the grunts and scrapes from the struggling pair.
He rounded one of the several mechanical sorting arms and was confronted with the back of a large muscular figure hunched over something. Readying himself, he armed his pistol and coughed loudly to get the attention of this stranger.
“Give me a reason not to sh…” He started with confidence but his voice faltered as the figure rounded on him to reveal he was holding a female figure against him.
“I got this, alright?” he said strengthening his voice again, trying to reassure the woman best he could.
“Heh, that’s what you think,” said a gruff male voice through a black visor. “Piss off, and maybe you’ll both live.”
Luke aimed his gun squarely at the man, who was struggling to use the woman as cover given he was at least a solid 2 feet taller than her. It was a clean shot, but he had no gauge on the captors reactions. For all he knew, he’d pull the trigger and get the woman killed.
“What makes you think you can save me?” cackled the woman.
“What?” Luke replied, completely thrown off guard.
“You couldn’t protect anyone!” said the woman again.
“I… I’ve got this… Just trust me…” he responded, the confidence he had earlier draining away rapidly.
“Trust you? Pah!” she spat, “All you had to do was run. Stop trying to be clever and just run.”
“STOP IT! JUST STOP IT!” Luke shouted at her.
“I’ve had enough of this crap…” said the man simply. A loud bang echoed around the cargo bay, and the woman fell to the floor.
“NO!!” Luke cried out, rushing to the figure. The strawberry blonde hair and gentle features seemed familiar and he felt a crushing weight of loss hitting him. However, as he rushed towards her, the man turned his gun and fired.
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Authors Note: Big thanks to Stryker Aune for the relevant Banter Board entries as well as his editing suggestions and thoughts. Also thanks to Phisto and Jemine Caesar for their comments and edits and opinions.
And of course, as always, thank you for reading and please feel free to PM me your own comments and suggestions.