As Villains Die Part 1
22 Jan 2018Kiyomo
The shuttle gave a terrible, nerve racking surge. Kiyomo gripped the controls tighter and clenched his teeth. It veered heavily off course, and it took more than a moment to right the error caused by faulty machinery and a heavy lack of maintenance. The edges of the cockpits glass began to show fire.“Hold it together old girl, its not much longer now.” He was lying, to whom he wasn’t sure. To myself I suppose. The shuttle lurched right, and then sharply downward. He struggled to keep it aimed roughly on target. The ground was quickly beginning to fill the viewport, though the fire did its best to conceal it. An alarm began to sound from somewhere behind him, it was the “Everything is fucked, and you shouldn’t have done any of the events proceeding the doom you find yourself in” alarm. One that all good pilots rightly ignore he guessed.
A moment later and he heard a loud metallic sound which he accounted for as the ship not listening to him mere moments ago. Kiyomo glanced over the Altimeter and sighed. Well, shit. He made to adjust the trajectory and level out the ship by pulling the Centre stick. This was cut short by the sudden smack to his forehead, and the painful realization that it wasn’t just his hand that had hit him. He threw the remains of the controls to the side and un fastened his safety belts.
It was jarring to say the least, the sudden transition from seated in a plummeting ship, to standing in a plummeting ship. The force was greater, the unease was as well. Kiyomo grabbed what he could of the surroundings, making do with whatever found to steady himself. Now began the slow agonizing process of making his way into the cargo hold. He went to step forward and found the ground faster than he could help. The ship had begun to spin now. Its axis shifting along with its new-found desire to be a spinning top.
“This is fine, this is absolutely fine.” Kiyomo began to crawl, digging his gloved hands into the jagged unleveled floor he had often cursed so many times. It too was a slow process, though unquestionably more productive. A few moments of this half crawl half climb brought him face to face with the door leaving the cockpit. He slammed his fist into its mechanics and, with an almost inaudible hiss, slid to the side revealing the cargo hold.
Strapped center stage was his salvation, or so he hoped. He gave a quick glance over the SRV he was now risking his life to use and began crawl-climbing towards it. A box, apparently left unsecured, came flying nearly smacked into his back. As it crashed, he heard the sounds of breaking bottles. No doubt the bottles of liquor he had managed to procure along his travels. No time for that now. He pushed on.
The cabin was ready for him, as he had prepared, and Kiyomo easily pulled himself in and secured himself. A wave a nausea flooded over him as he found himself secured and in a solid position again. Choosing to focus more on the situation on hand, he made a heavy effort and shoved the feeling back down. The ships spin seemed to have only gotten worse, though in all honesty he couldn’t tell. He flicked a switch and the HUD quickly blipped into life. The Altimeter was dropped at an alarming rate, the nausea returned. To the side, he saw the big pulsing red button he had prepared days before. He took a breath and, with his left hand, grabbed hold of the brace bar along the SRV’s side. With one deft motion, he bashed his right fist into the button.
The world spun and, for a moment, he saw the rest of the galaxy. He tried for a moment, to see the orca he had ejected the shuttle from only minutes ago. This was made impossible as, before he could tell, the SRV smashed its left side into the spinning shuttle. This sent the SRV into its own sickening spin. Kiyomo made what actions he could to steady and counter the motion, but found it difficult to focus with the spinning he saw separate to the SRV’s. He fought the urge to pass out as and tried again to steady the vehicle. This time it seemed to work as its spin began to slow. He took the moment to shoot daggers at the altimeter again.
1000. 900. 800. 700. The craft was falling faster than he had anticipated. Began pushing the under thrusters to their max and prayed that it would be enough. Another alarm boomed into his ears as the engines protested heavily. 400. 325. 250. Shit! Shit!
He heard the crash and felt himself lurch forward, smacking his head into the console. Another sharp moment and he hit something else, then another with the same outcome. After a few more iterations of the same painful motion, he found he was lying face down in a dirt he was unfamiliar with. He attempted to lift his head, felt a pain, and then gave up. He didn’t fight the urge to faint this time.