The hum of the high-speed jager jet, or transport jet, filled the air as Andy meticulously recorded the specs from the schematics on his wrist tech - a sleek armband displaying a holographic computer. An Indigenous invention that came out when he was in high school - a device where a micro-laser sensed and reacted to touch.
The recycled strakes, while salvaged, still boasted enough power to travel five light-clicks out and back, according to the diagnostic readings. Without the power the strakes provide to the jet, the five light-clicks to the Pinnacle would stretch 3 months.
Haiden grunted as he heaved the last trunk up the ramp, his muscles straining with the effort. A bright red tag proclaiming its vital contents adorned this one, showcasing its role as a beacon of emergency medical supplies. A truck that never went unused on any of Andy’s missions.
He was sure Haiden would find a way to make the trunk easily accessible. Haiden’s loss of his brother two years ago, a preventable accident caused by a teammate’s forgetfulness, drove him to become hyper-vigilant about loading the truck, making it his own personal duty.
Vincent Khan and Tom duck out of the jet, engines with a gentle hum awaiting departure, headed down the ramp to Andy. Khan asks, “It’s twenty after, everything checking out ok?”
“Yeah, we’re as good as we can get.” Turning to Tom with concern, “You good on strakes before the next shipment?”
Swallowinghard, Tom couldn’t look Andy in the eyes. “We will make them last. Don’t worry,” he reassured, his voice strained. “We’ll be okay as long as a swarm doesn’t intercept them.” They bid Khan goodbye as he went to finish his procedures. Taking a step closer to Andy, Tom’s hand was steady as he retrieved a small micro-chip from his front overcoat pocket. The metallic glint of the chip caught the dim light, sending a shiver down Andy’s spine. Tom handed it to Andy, who could feel its weight in his palm, excitement thrumming through him.
“I got a message from Claire. If I had gotten it any sooner, I would have given it to you earlier.” Tom said as Andy plugs it into his wrist tech for later. Lowering his voice, Tom’s words were barely audible over the distant hum of machinery. Andy strained to hear as Tom tightly gripped his shoulder. “Make sure you come back, you hear me? Don’t go playing hero this time.”
An abrupt laugh escaped Andy’s lips, the sound laced with nostalgia. “You know me. I can’t promise that,” he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. Tom rolled his eyes, the gesture accompanied by a playful smile. The memory of their drunken decision to shave Tom’s head emerged, bringing a wave of laughter from Andy.
““Do you remember that time when it snowed?” Andy continued, his voice filled with warmth. The image of their naked bodies plunging into the icy water flashed before their eyes, the sensation of cold against their skin still vivid in their minds. The memory brought a sense of camaraderie, a reminder of the bond they shared. “We were lucky our bollocks didn’t get frostbite.”
Before they could delve further into their reminiscences, Clarke’s voice pierced through the moment, the sharp sound snapping them back to reality. “Where’s Squirt?” Andy’s jaw clenched, his muscles tensing, as he counted to three in his head, the rhythm a soothing cadence.
“He’s the reason we haven’t undocked yet,” Andy replied, his words punctuated by a heavy sigh. The tension in the air grew palpable, the impending departure hanging over them like a dark cloud. With a nod to Clarke, Andy could almost taste the anticipation, a mixture of fear and determination. Time was running out, and the scent of urgency filled his nostrils.
As Tom nodded in understanding and bid his farewell, Andy was left alone to complete the departure routine. The weight of their mission settled on his shoulders, the weight of his responsibilities pressing against him.
Having cleared their departure with the dock commander and the last of the bureaucratic documents, Owen finally makes his appearance. His hair was disheveled, strands sticking out in every direction, shirt untucked, and one shoe untied. Apologizing profusely, Owen quickly boards the jet without a word from Andy. The sound of footsteps on the metal ramp echoes in the enclosed space as he hurries inside.
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With the last signature in place, Andy follows suit, his shoes clacking against the metal floor as he enters the command code into the panel, initiating a series of beeps and clicks. The feeling of anticipation hangs in the air, a mix of excitement and nervous energy.
Once Andy confirms that all eleven members have strapped themselves in, he closes the hatch with a resounding thud. The metallic clang reverberates through the cabin, causing a slight vibration under their feet. Andy makes his way to the last empty jump seat, but before he reaches it, he stops before Owen. He hands him a mock-Q laser, its weight cold and solid in Owen’s palm. The faint smell of metal and fire lingers on the weapon, a reminder of its purpose and the seriousness of their mission.
Ignoring any further apologies, Andy walks past Haiden, whose face has turned pale, his eyes darting to Owen next to him. Haiden pleads with someone, anyone, to trade seats, his voice filled with desperation. Andy buckles himself into his seat, the smooth click of the buckle contrasting with the tension in the air. He nods a greeting to Sampson Pottimus, known affectionately as Spot, next to him, a skilled sharpshooter with a loyal demeanor. The sound of Spot’s voice is confident and sure, a comforting presence amidst the chaos.
The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom, confirming that all passengers are secure. A blaring siren, warning personnel to promptly exit the docking bay, filled the cabin. The shrill noise pierces through the air, causing a momentary discomfort in their ears. Andy watches as his teammates close their eyes, mentally preparing themselves for the upcoming jump and the intense g-force that awaits them.
However, the jump is still ten minutes away, and Owen’s incessant chatter hints at another reason for their unease. Andy inserts his issued ear cons, the soft hum of the connection syncing with his wrist tech. The familiar feeling of the earplugs fitting snugly in his ears provides a sense of security and excitement. With his wrist adjusted to a private setting, the holographic images projected by his device become visible only to him.
As he pressed the record button, Andy’s eyes fell upon the familiar face of his sister, Claire. Claire’s long, dark, curly brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, almost appearing black in the low light. Her face was radiant, beaming with excitement. Time seemed to have stood still for her, preserving her youthful glow. Andy couldn’t help but notice how she resembled their father, with her darker skin complexion and coarse hair.
Andy, on the other hand, took after their mother. His lighter skin had a softness to it, contrasting with his mother’s wavy hair he inherited that had hints of dark brown and natural highlights. He also inherited a touch of his father’s complexion, giving him a perpetual tan. His eyes, like Claire’s, were a deep black, reflecting the uncertainty that hung in the air.
It had been eight long years since Andy had laid eyes on Claire. She had gone into hiding, working tirelessly on a top-secret weapon to combat the Crek. The sound of papers rustling and the tapping of keyboards filled the background as Claire spoke. Her voice carried a mix of excitement and fatigue, as if she had been working tirelessly for days.
“Hey, Andy,” Claire greeted him, her voice tinged with relief and a hint of weariness. The corner of her mouth curled into a smile, a genuine expression that had become rare since their parents’ death, albeit flat in the hologram. “Sorry, it’s been a while. We may have a breakthrough.”
Her words hung in the air. Andy had become skeptical of these so-called breakthroughs. Despite his doubts, Claire’s recording remained unwavering. “We’ve managed to extract biological matter from the strakes,” she continued, her voice held a mixture of hope and determination.
“It powers our ships, and our experiments have shown that when combined with the Crek, poison can counteract their destructive force. We’ve been working together with another team, but unfortunately we lost contact with them a week ago.“ Claire confessed, her voice trembling slightly. “Andy, if this weapon works, we can finally destroy the Crek once and for all. Imagine, no species ever having to fear an Awakening again."
The word “Awakening” echoed in Andy’s mind, sending chills down his spine. It’s what older species, ones who fought the Crek, call it. The Crek, their origins shrouded in mystery, were a terrifying force. Historical records had revealed that the Crek targeted specific species during their relentless attacks.
The stories of their brutality had haunted the children, a constant reminder of the horrors that awaited them. The scant information recorded about the Crek, though minimal, provides enough reassurance to believe they will fall asleep once more. But until then, humanity has become their latest target.
As Andy watched the hologram, a mixture of hope and longing filled him. “If this works, Andy. I can come home. You won’t need to protect me anymore. Oh, how I wish I could see you again. Keep fighting strong.” She always ended the videos with the words, ‘Keep fighting strong.’