Wish

I watch as Niah disappears behind the doors of the lift. I don't want to leave her, but she needs me to do my part. With Hart, I mount the mini-zip and rev its engines. I hold tight as the craft moves beneath us. Carefully, I guide it through the turns in the ship, headed for the cargo hold.

Lord Oliver's men look up as I crest through the entrance to the cargo hold. One lifts the fabrication drive as if he's about to launch it through the air.

"No!" I shout and he freezes. I race the mini-zip directly at him. He cries out, ducking to the ground. He clutches the drive to his chest.

I whip the tail of the mini-zip to one side and kick my foot into the Stalker's gut. Air bursts from his lungs. His back slams against a cargo crate. The fabrication drive falls from his hands. It clangs against the metal floor and rolls several feet across the hanger.

I turn the mini-zip. It's rear end slips out behind me a little, touching the edge of the crate, before I can right it. The Stalker ducks beneath and the hot fumes of the hover jets singe across his flesh. He raises his hands to his face, screaming as his skin sizzles. I push away, skimming the ground of the hanger as I race after the drive. It's cylindrical shape continues to roll across the floor. I zip past it and slam my foot to the ground to whip the mini-zip around again. The drive rolls to a stop against my foot.

Several Stalkers race toward me. I reach down and snatch up the drive, then pass it to Hart. "Niah needs you, Hart! As soon as you have the chance, you have to go. Don't look back."

I drive the mini-zip forward again. The jet engines blast over the top of the Stalker nearest. He cries out. His screams are piercing, pained. I grimace, but force back the gut-wrenching guilt I feel.

I whip the mini-zip around, spinning a series of tight circles in the hanger as I try to ward off the other men. The Stalkers scatter behind crates as the thrusters of the mini-zip blast searing heat toward them. I swivel again, turning the mini-zip toward the door of the lift. As we reach it, I arc to the side again, bringing the seat up beside the door. I slam my hand against the control. The doors slide open.

I pause to let Hart dismount. He launches through the doors. His hover jets thrust and he darts forward. He pushes a control inside the doors. The door closes between us. I breathe a relieved sigh and turn back to the cowering Stalkers.

As they rise from their crouched position behind the cargo crates, their gazes are fixed on me. I swallow, feeling their attention. But that's a good thing. I nudge the mini-zip, facing it to the large open door at the opposite end of the hanger bay. I focus on the darkness outside. I jet the engines, zipping forward, and zoom past the crates. I hear the men cry out as they give chase behind me. I duck as a lance of plasma sears by just inches from my head.

Outside, a host of Shadow people are overwhelmed by Stalkers. I bite my lip, wondering how any of us can have a hope of surviving this. A cry to the right draws my attention. Tye! He's fighting hand-to-hand. A Stalker's arm crushes around his throat and his cry is cut off as he gags for breath.

I steer the mini-zip toward him. I use the heavy metal rear to slam into a Stalker. I kick out at another. Tye hauls the Stalker over his shoulder. He slams the Narian into the ground then stands, hands on knees, panting.

"Thanks," he calls between breaths. "Niah?"

"She's okay, she's gone to release the cure."

He nods and turns to punch another Stalker. The man collapses to the ground. His plasma pulser slides across the dirt. Tye rolls toward it and picks it up, firing at another man racing toward us. Several more keep coming behind me.

"We're outnumbered, aren't we?" He nods, but doesn't look at me as he fires into the horde of men.

A blast of plasma slams into the rear thruster of my mini-zip. It starts smoking. I turn the craft to the lip of the crater and use its momentum to drive at the rim as the smoke gathers behind me. I'm pretty sure it must be hot enough to crack the heads so, before the motor dies, I rev the engines, twist the steering column, and turn it into the pit of Stalkers near Tye. As the mini-zip takes air, I lift up with my knees and dive backward of the craft. I roll down over the dirt as I put distance between myself and the spluttering machine. "Watch out!" I cry. Tye glances over, then darts away from the Stalkers trying to grab him. He dives into a ditch just as the engine explodes.

The blast throws me backward. I feel the breath slam out of my lungs as I hit the ground hard, but I've gotten far enough away that the flaming hot fuel doesn't reach me. Several Stalkers scream in agony as their skin and clothes sear from the blast. They collapse, dead or dying. I grimace and turn away. More men are coming.

I glance around, hoping to find a weapon or something to defend myself with. If we can just hold off until Niah releases the cure… We might not be able to save ourselves, or even Niah, but if she releases the cure then we save the rest of Nar and surely that's something. It'll have to be enough.

Six Stalkers surround me. I try to find Tye but either he's gone or he's dealing with his own problems. I swing at the nearest Stalker. He ducks beneath my arm then comes up behind me, gripping me tight. "Let me go, baull-scat!"

"Gosh, you're spicy for a little moon-skitter."

"Chortessa's guts, void scum."

His laughs softly and I shiver, stomach uneasy. I try to pull away but his grip tightens, bruising my arms. I try to spin away, to sweep or stamp on his feet, but he holds me fast. "Easy there, little tiolf."

A low growl in the distance catches our attention. We look up at the ledge of the crater. Farlem stands there, his head low, ears perked. He gazes right at us. I go to cry out but the Stalker grips my mouth with his hand. I try to bite him. His breath hisses down the back of my neck as he gasps, but he keeps his fingers clasped tight over my lips.

Farlem howls. I feel the sound of it course through me. A chorus of howls follows his. Along the ledge, a line of tiolf form. I see Ke-am and Selnar step up beside Farlem. Between them, ragged and thin, but growling with fierce dark eyes, is the chortessa. And behind and beside them all are a thousand well-armed men and women. The Faithful.

White fire zips up toward them. The beasts dodge the plasma fire with a snarl, then launch themselves over the ridge and into the crater. The Faithful follow, rushing forward like an army of avenging angels. They throw themselves into the flurry of Shadows and Stalkers. The tiolf tear flesh and clothes and throats. I can't tell how they know which is friend or foe but their focus on taking down the Stalkers is reassuring. I feel the battle turn around us and hope blooms within me.

Farlem races toward me. My heart races with him. The Stalkers hand falls from my mouth. "Farlem!" I cry. The tiolf's ears perk up as he continues to stride forward. I gasp as I hear the weapon discharge beside me. The lance of plasma slips out like a streak of white lightening. It slams into Farlem's flank.

The tiolf stumbles, thrown sideways. He yelps but pushes himself back to his feet and charges forward. He leaps, and lunges for the Stalker holding me. I feel the man's grip waver and take advantage of his shock to pull away. I throw myself against the ground as the tiolf dives over my head and tears into the Stalker.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The tiolf tosses aside a severed limb, then limps toward me. His fur is smeared in blood but I stroke his ears as he nuzzles against me.

"I'm okay, boy. Thank you." I glance back at the ship. "Come on, Niah. We got you this far, where's that cure?"

***

Niah

As the lift rises through the decks of the ship, I feel around for some way to control access to the secret room. On many floors, the doors either side of the lift will open. You can enter or exit from both. But as it reaches the final deck, only a single door opens.

Beyond those doors, the long corridor to the main lab is dark. In the distance, light from the lab consoles casts long shadows. My heart races as I glimpse a hint of movement.

I turn away, searching the other door. I trace the cold chrome walls but there are no secrets beyond the primary control. The console itself is relatively simple. A handful of buttons, a jack, and a small slit. I wonder if maybe it's accessed by ID card.

An echo of memory brushes my mind. The image of a round disk flashes through my thoughts as if I'd unlocked this lift a hundred times before.

"The card," I whisper. I remember slipping the disk into the sleeve of my suit after hacking Bellamy's safe. I rub at the spot where the small sliver presses very lightly against my wrist. Before I can slip it free, the lift pings and the doors to the corridor begin to close. I gasp, step out, and watch as the lights show the lift descending through levels.

As swiftly as the lift descends, it begins climbing again. I glance around, wondering where I can hide. The corridor is stark and empty. Only the distant lab has any sort of cover, but who knows how many of Lord Oliver's guards might be in there.

The lift passes the floor below and continues rising toward me. I shake my head. "No choice," I whisper, then dart toward the lab.

It feels eerie to creep through the dim and silent corridor. It's as if the ship is dead. I'm surprised how much I've come to depend on Elixr in the circuits since I awoke. I swallow as I step closer to the lab doors and glance inside.

I freeze a moment when I see a dark shadow. A tall, blonde Narian stands with his back to the door. He gazes up at the large console window. Text streams down it. Then a red light starts flashing. The Narian slams his fist against the main workstation. "Chortessa's guts, Jacob. You and your baull-scat codes!"

I swallow, glancing around for a place to hide. I dart beneath the workstation nearest the entry. Behind me, the light hum of a small hover jet weaves up the long hallway. I see the swirl of blue purple jet stream. Hart!

I want to cry out, to warn him, but any sound, any movement might alert the Narian to my presence. Instead, I bite my lip and wonder what to do next.

Hart glides into the room. He acts as if he's completely oblivious to the Narian as he crosses directly to the fabricator in the middle of the room. My breath catches as I watch him slip the fabrication drive into the console. It hums to life. The Narian turns at the sound.

I bite back a gasp as I see the Narian's face. It's the image of Wish. Older, harsher, and shadowed with recognition and pain. Flashes of recall dance through my thoughts as a heart-aching connection courses through me. This must be Lord Oliver, but the flashes of Bellamy's memories in my mind reveal a greater truth. This is Captain Bellamy's brother.

"You!" he snarls. I pull back, suddenly afraid he's seen me, but his gaze is firmly fixed on the droid.

Hart reaches a hand toward Oliver as if giving a customary Narian welcome. "I am Harttade, a Hybrid Autonomous Research, Telemetry, Teleportation, and Defence Engine."

"I know what you are. My brother and I made you. What are you doing here?"

"My primary function is to repair, restore, and maintain the Elixr to optimum levels for the completion of her mission."

The Narian grimaces. He walks forward then begins to circle Hart. "Oh, of course that's what my brother would have you do. The most advanced Sentient ever created and he makes you a slave to his ship."

Hart turns in place to watch the Narian. Behind him, the fabricator beeps. I glance at the small, green, ready command that blinks across its screen. Almost as if he's trying to distract the Narian, Hart makes a bleeping bluster of his own and jets forward then spins in place. I hope it really is a distraction and not another malfunction.

He splutters. "My role is complete. My role is complete. My role is complete. The dispersal drive is fully functional. Nar waits for the cure."

He glances past the Narian directly at me. One of the twin orb eyes closes in a wink. I gasp.

"What are you on about?"

Hart blinks, looking back to Lord Oliver. "Oh, my apologies. I appear to be experiencing a malfunction."

Oliver waves him off. "Two hundred narcycles in the void of space with my void-scum brother. Bound to have a few bolts loose." He turns back to the console.

I glance at the drive one last time, hoping I understood Hart's message. With Oliver's back turned to us both, he fixes me with his gaze again and nods. I nod back and dart out from under the workstation. I race for the corridor.

"Hey!" Oliver cries behind me. I hear a crash of metal on metal. Part of me wants to stop, to check on Hart, but I know he'd rather I complete our mission. I gasp and sprint harder. A streak of white blasts past me. It slams into the wall, singeing a dark streak of molten metal into the chrome.

I pant, feeling the flush of heat on my skin as my heart pounds in my ears. My legs shake and I feel the weakness of my illness in every inch of my skin. I reach for the disk at my wrist as I slam into the lift. I turn, press the chip into the slit, then gasp as Lord Oliver steps through the door. He levels the plasma pulser in his hand directly at my chest.

"You're not going anywhere, moon-skitter." He glares at me. I feel a cold shiver as his gaze seems to devour me. "You're almost the perfect image of him. Almost." His lips curve in a cold, dark, smile. I swallow.

"I'm not him."

He chuckles. "No, but you're still trying, aren't you? Still trying to save the world."

I lift my chin and glare at him. "At least what I'm doing means something."

His gaze narrows. "Means something? We waited narcycles! Nar crumbled around us. I died a half-dozen deaths waiting for you. Millions of Narians died waiting. You think it means something? Your cure is two hundred narcycles too late."

I swallow again and try to blink back my tears. A big part of me worries that he's right. I have no idea what Bellamy's cure is or if it will help. This could all be for nothing.

I push back the drag of hopelessness as I hear the doors behind me slide open. Lord Oliver's eyes narrow as I step backward. Around us, a soft blue-green glow blooms.

Oliver steps forward. "Still so eager to throw your life away, Captain Bellamy?" he drawls. I see the strange green light reflected on his pale skin. It bounces off the chrome walls and glass windows all around us.

I shake my head. "I'm not Bellamy."

"No, you're not. Whatever did happen to my brother?" I step back again. Oliver follows. With each step I take backward he steps toward me. "There's nowhere to go, little moon-skitter. Nowhere to hide."

My hip bumps into something cold and hard. I glance down at the console. Oliver snarls. A bloom of white plasma slams into the metal at my hip. I gasp as it splatters searing plasma against my coat. I glance up at Lord Oliver. His cold, ice gaze fixes on me.

"Now, now. You know I can't let you be a hero." He steps close and I shrink away, circling him to keep a clear distance between us.

I bite my lip as I realise Oliver has put himself between me and the console. I can see it now. A tall cylinder of glass reaches from floor to ceiling. Inside, whirls a pale blue ocean filled with swirling light. On the command console thick numerals count down. Beneath the numbers a short command, 'Awaiting Release'. I gasp.

Lord Oliver waves the plasma pulser at me. "No getting ideas, now. We can't have that. Not at all. I have plans for you, little moon-skitter."

I fix my gaze on him. "What are you going to do to me?"

His lips curve in a smile. "There are some truly marvellous things in Virreal. I created it you know. To give Narians something worth living for. I saved us."

"Trapped in a dome? Lost in a world that isn't real? Living for every scrap of staples they can muster? You call that saved?"

"If we'd waited for my brother they would all be dead!"

I glance behind Oliver again. The counter keeps ticking down. Nine, eight… Just inches from him is the release, but the white-hot death of his plasma pulser lies between us.

I can feel Captain Bellamy's mission pulsing within me as if it's all I was ever created for. Images of Wish and Tye flicker through my mind. I bite my lip, realising that everything we've done is greater than me, or even them. I didn't get to live my own life. This was bigger than any of us. This was all of Nar and all the Narians that remained. This could save them. This could save them all.

I hear the ping of the elevator behind us. Lord Oliver's gaze narrows. I already know who stands behind me. I feel her as if she's an extension of myself.

"I wouldn't," Oliver says. His voice is menacingly quiet. He fixes the aim of the pulser directly at me.

"No!" Wish gasps behind me.

Four, Three… I dart forward, terrified we'll miss our chance. Lord Oliver's eyes widen as he sees me dive at him. A burst of white fire slams into me. I feel the lance of heat and gasp. Instinctively, I lift a hand to my shoulder and feel the singed flesh and slick of blood throb through my fingers. Unable to stop my momentum, I plough into Oliver. We both crash backward into the column of glass.

I shove him back against the release lever. He snarls, pulling away and grips the console, but it's too late. A harsh hiss sounds around me and a blinding light slices up through the glass. I stumble and collapse to my knees. My chest burns. I'm not sure if it's the fire of plasma or the ache of my lungs struggling to draw breath. I try to block out the pain as I gaze upward. Around me, everything feels like it's swirling.

Another pulse of plasma bursts over my shoulder. Lord Oliver screams, lifting his hands. His eyes go strangely glassy and wild.

His body falls forward. His weight is crushing. We both crumple to the floor. Around us, a swarm of Narians fills the room. Wish is at my side. She's saying something, but I can't hear the words. The pain is overwhelming, drowning out all my other senses. Everything else fades.

In the silent tick before I lose consciousness, I wonder at the cure. Would I have survived if there'd been one for me?