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KALON
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Chapter Forty-Three: Dorok Nor Ulak
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Planet's surface
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I look down at Betran’s corpse, his face in the snow, exactly where he belongs. After a few moments of messing with his holopad, I realize there is no time to figure it out. Red eyes in the darkness flicker. Leaning down, I grab his weapon, spinning it awkwardly I fire it against the cuffs. They fall apart in the middle, still wrapping my wrists, leaving burns on my skin where the heated metal seared into my furs before I could plunge my hands into the ice.
Near him, I see the strange black box. The patterns on it have faded already. Stuffing it in my garb, I move to the Arasha ship now. Shriekers cries in the distance calling me to hurry. Sparks fly as I walk through towards the pilot’s chair. I push the no longer grumbling man from the chair and try to remember how they used it. The consoles and interface are soaked in blood.
Moving a few levers and pushing the throttle forward I feel the ship groan as it moves a little. A thought crosses my mind, I push it away. It presses back, a feeling coming from deep within. The Sage’s words fill my mind.
To help others is to help ourselves
Vek his words, they are why I am here. His words have not always proved helpful, if I had killed Neeba, would I even be here now? My jaw flexes. If I had not helped the brothers, I would not have still been Ulima, then Neeba would not have dared to try to kill me. My teeth grind. It was good that we helped them though, they are good people. I should not have regrets that they live.
“Vek!” I curse. Slamming my hand against the panel. Even my thoughts are twisted.
My eyes close, thinking back to the compassion the blue-haired woman showed in the markets. She could have killed me with her strength and speed. Instead, she saved my life. Beyond that, she gave rations to the hungry, even to those who gave nothing of value. If she dies, it is yet another ray of light extinguished in the cruel reality of this dark world. I know what the Sage would say if he saw me now. But he is not here. My teeth grind as the shame builds from the deeper parts of my soul. Am I so dishonorable that I would consider leaving her, despite the risks? Am I such a man? Can I abandon someone who saved my life and helped many?
My head hangs low. No, they can take my freedom, they can take my pride, even take my life, but my honor… I must be the one to give it up. My eyes close tighter, searching for the calm among the Shulka cries and the explosions. With a deep breath of icy air in my lungs it seeps into me. Telling me what I must do.
Moving with a swiftness I grab the medigel kit that I saw earlier, checking there are doses, I rush from the craft towards the woman. I know I should leave her. She will be trouble for me. Better that I leave, yet my blade cuts open her clothes and thick-lined thermosuit around the wound, and my hand pulls out the metal shard. Injecting the medigel, giving her two doses, one in the wound and another around it. The bleeding slows almost instantly. Pulling another device from the medical kit, I push the contents into the open wound.
The medifoam expands rapidly, becoming firm as it hits the air, creating a thick film over the wound. Hopefully, it will hold, I have little experience with it. Such things are not common among my people. Hoisting her over my shoulder, she is lighter than I expected, given her strength, I thought she would weigh more than three men. Taking her to the Arasha vessel, now placing her inside the craft, I buckle her to what’s left of the hull. Distant explosions and the cries of the shriekers coming closer remind me of the urgency. Wasting no more time, I push the throttle down all the way. The craft shakes violently but it holds as it roars forward. Skidding off juts of ice. My hands are trembling, I breathe deep and calm my mind. Now is not the time to feel, it is the time for action. Anything else will mean death.
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There is a storm coming closer. The one the dead pilot warned of before he became pulp. The craft is making strange noises. The lights flash red and what’s left of the displays beeps loudly. Another high embankment of ice rocks the craft as its belly slides across it. The metal groans as it tries to move against the pull of gravity. It is a miracle it still moves at all. We are far enough away now that the explosions are muffled against the sound of the wind. The woman still has not stirred, given her injury, if she survives the night, that too will be a miracle. However, I still do not know if it will be a blessing or a curse for me. Her outfit is markless, like a form-fitting spacesuit, the interior looked like our thermosuits, but of higher quality, and more compact. I have only seen similar things in holos. I wonder if it will keep her warm enough. She may die from the cold if the injury doesn’t finish her. The wind from the hole in the front of the shuttle chills me to the bone.
There is no plan as I glide across the air in a half-broken ship. The display that had a map is missing, part of it lodged inside the man who grumbles no more. I will try to follow the stars like the Sage taught. Follow them back to the city? What is left there for me though… My heart sinks as I recall my situation. There is nowhere for me to go. Nekam will never trust me to join the Clan again, and I cannot trust them to not sell me again. What of Arrum though? No… he will thrive without me holding him back. I should find another Kuwathi city, I saw one before we crashed when we were flying here. I will head for it. Perhaps if I can establish myself there, I can return one day and… no, think of the present. Revenge is a luxury I cannot afford at the moment.
My head turns back to look at the woman again, her arm dangles in the wind as the craft teeters side to side. How is it that we meet again? The coincidence is not just improbable, but impossible. I don’t understand what is going on. What I do know is that there is a risk in taking her. She was involved in some kind of fight in low orbit that I have no part in. She will slow me down. Were her ship not destroyed, maybe she would be in a position to offer me a reward. After seeing the carnage, I do not think she will have much to offer. Except, perhaps the box. Whatever it contains, must be valuable. Is it right for me to try and keep it though? No, I should give it back. It is dishonorable to steal from those you owe your life. Perhaps she can at least tell me more about it. If she wakes. For now, I must…
The lights of the craft are flickering more than they were before. I feel the Etherium drive struggling. Was it damaged? How much longer will it last? How much farther is the city? My hand tightens on the controls, my breathing barely able to keep my nerves in check. The craft is slowing. My eyes look to the horizon. Dawn should approach soon. We cannot stop until it does. There is no way to secure the craft from Shulka, too many holes. The craft slows again, moving lower to the ground, grinding on the ice, sending shavings into my eyes through where the viewport used to be. We are surely dead. My heart thrashes in my chest as I try in vain to pull up the dying craft.
The engine whimpers and whines before it falls silent. The lights in the cabin flicker out with it, extinguishing any hope I had to survive. There is peace with it though as the controls no longer squeal in protest. The craft thuds fully to the ground, spinning in a slow arc. My head presses back against gravity to look skyward, through the hole in the ships ceiling, so that I might see the stars before we perish.
I hear them before I see them. Foul screams that rip at one's nerves fill the air. My body is so weary. What is the point of fighting anymore? To survive? To what end? The Sage’s words wish to fill my mind to move my weary frame, but I grow deaf to them in these moments. It is not hopelessness that I feel, what is it? Am I too tired to fight? Too heartbroken to stand? What will I even fight for? Myself?
I hear them scampering through the snow, the instruments that are ablaze the only thing keeping them at bay. If not for its light, I would not have time to muse such things. My head lowers from the stars, looking at my hands in the flames flickering light. Is it enough to just survive? Where will I go? Perhaps it is better this way. A ringing in my ear draws my attention. My head aches from it. Is it from the explosions? I hear the screeching stop now.
A Carver must be near.
I think of what Nekam said, May luck find you. I do not believe in luck.
There is a thud as a heavy foot steps on the edge of the craft. It must be hungry to not wait for the fire’s light to fully diminish. My jaw flexes. My legs scream at me to stand, my body tries to resist what I am feeling. Am I too stubborn to die easily? A chuckle falls from my lips. Perhaps. Standing now, I turn to face the beast. There is a freeness I feel in my bones… I am not afraid to die I realize. As its eyes meet mine, I utter a single phrase.
“Dorok Nor Ulak.”
Come, give rise to my existence.