The Gravity of the Situation Read online

help tear up the clamp from its moorings and send it careening towards the front line of bots.

  She scrambled to the shuttle door and slapped the control to shut it. The shuttle rose off the ground vertically, and flew straight towards the hatch. The hatch moved; closing in front of them to cut off their escape.

  “Put on a harness!” Barran had already followed his own advice, and pointed to the connection straps. Syrah’s hands were numb, and it was almost impossible for her to grab the belt connection. She stabbed the metal tab at the slot, until finally it slid home. She was just in time as the ship's thrusters went on full burn. Pura gasped when she saw the blood on Syrah's lab coat.

  "I'm fine." Syrah pressed her hand over her side. It was cauterized and ached like a wound days old.

  Gravity pressed down on them. Syrah groaned involuntarily as the pressure made her wound feel like it was collapsing inside of itself. Two Earth g's. Three. Blackness crept into her field of vision.

  "We've got company!" Barran announced.

  Syrah blinked and looked over at the flight console. Skiffs flew in, flies swarming to stop a sparrow in flight. Barran focused to correct and to coax as was needed. He petted the dashboard, stroking it absently as he murmured to the shuttle. "Come on baby, don't you want to go home?"

  A hit scored on the ship caused it to rock. The g force started to decrease.

  “Damn, that almost took out the second set of thrusters. Getting out of atmo is going to be a long shot.” Barran’s eyes flit everywhere; consoles, the monitors, the front viewport, the damage report.

  “Do you have guns on this thing?” Syrah looked around the cockpit, forcing herself to be battle ready.

  “I wish.” Barran slapped the console and jerked back on the stick. The shuttle darted and spun, and lost ground.

  “What about that thing you did to the bot?” Pura asked.

  “Do you mean the box? It interrupts electronics, but it’s barely as big as my hand.” Barran hit something, and the shuttle picked up speed. It was enough to leave the skiffs behind, but two hovercrafts took their place. They spat bullets of an entirely different character. Shots rang out against the hull, denting their shuttle.

  “We need to boost the signal.” Syrah pointed at the door that separated the cockpit from the shuttle engine.

  “You can just keep your damn hands off my engine.” He glowered at her.

  “I invite you to stop me.” Syrah unlatched the safety harness and stood up.

  “I’m saving your ass, here!” Barran’s tone abandoned ‘tough guy’ and sought refuge in panic.

  "And I'm saving yours." Syrah could feel the engines whining as the shuttle climbed. The gravity of the situation was not lost on her. They had to escape the atmosphere, get into the void, and then hope for rescue. They were a long way from safe.

  "You'll forgive me if that isn't readily obvious." Barran's attention was front and center, as his hands danced over the controls. Syrah could see that he knew his business as a pilot. She hoped that would be enough.

  “Pura, get me the box.” Syrah opened the door. There was a hiss as pressures equalized, and Syrah walked into the engine room.

  Pura stuck her hand out towards him. “I think you should give it.”

  Barran bit back a laugh. “Try to help a couple of fugitives.” He pulled the box out of his pocket and handed it over. “Now get back in the damn harness.”

  She ran up behind Syrah and handed her the box…“You should do what the man says.”

  The pilot swore, catching Syrah’s attention. “I hope you have a fast idea. I underestimated how badly they want you. They have gravity nets!”

  To illustrate the point, a loud bang rattled the side of the ship. Indents puckered the ceiling on five points, which were creaking against the strain.

  “We have hull breach.” Barran slapped the console. “We have to stop and let them board.”

  Syrah pulled wires free from the thrusters. “Plot a course on autopilot!”

  “Are you deaf?” Barran snapped back. “We have to give up.”

  “We can escape if you do what I tell you!” Her voice rang with authority.

  She waited a beat, and when she heard no resistance, she went back to work wiring the little black box to the propulsion unit. She grinned when the thing hummed in her palm. Then she punched the button.

  “What the...” Barran’s confusion carried over the machine noise. “What did you do?”

  Syrah smiled.

  A second loud bang pounded the hull.

  Nothing betrayed where the gravity net had landed, but she felt the engines try to compensate with more power. Would they drag her out of the sky?

  “We’re not going to make it to my ship. I plotted a course but the engines aren’t responding. ”Barran glared at Syrah. “Your great plan didn’t work.”

  Pura looked out the view port. The sky had turned from blue to black, and stars were visible through the view port. The ground was a featureless green far beneath them. She didn’t care; she never wanted to come back down.

  The ships that shot the gravity nets flew in a holding pattern far below. They knew all they had to do was wait. As if to agree with his point, the warning alarm sounded that their oxygen slipped through the cracks and into space.

  “Pura, come over here.” Syrah held a door open for her.

  She slipped along inside, looking up at Syrah to see if she could figure out what was going on. When Pura had squeezed herself amongst the equipment, Syrah motioned for Barran to follow her.

  Syrah shut the door, and the door hissed closed and sealed.

  “What about the other gravity net?” Barran asked.

  “It may slow our propulsion. But we’re up here high enough that if you have a beacon, your ship will hear it.” Syrah said, looking at the oxygen meters. They stabilized.

  “So will every Kozlov who wants you dead.” He looked defeated.

  "If the rest of your crew is as insane as you are, I'm guessing they can pull something off." She wasn't sure if she hoped that was true or not.

  “This is very clever, closing us into the engine bay, but you do realize they keep minimal oxygen in here. It may take them longer to find us than we have.” He pointed out.

  Pura looked scared, and reached out her hand towards Syrah. In turn, Syrah looked at Barran. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “I hope you don’t have to show me how that works.” Barran leaned back against a wall, fidgeting with a coin.

  “Lucky coin?” Syrah asked to divert attention off of their drifting problem.

  “It’s something I keep with me to remind myself that I have a promise to keep.” He flipped the coin and caught it. “Sometimes I lose focus on what’s important.”

  “What were you thinking, when you offered us a way out?” Syrah asked.

  Barran shrugged. “I was thinking I could tweak a noble’s nose and help some escaped slaves.”

  “I’m not a slave.” Syrah growled.

  “Not to offend, but you’re running around in underwear and a lab coat. You seem to be in a bit of a desperate situation.” Barran slipped his coin in his pocket.

  “You help runaway slaves?” Pura asked.

  “Once or twice.” Barran admitted. “It’s not a full time career.”

  “Big hearts make for big targets when you’re a smuggler.” Syrah sat down on the toolkit.

  Barran chuckled. “How do you figure?”

  “You wanted to get off this world badly enough to do something stupid, rather than wait it out like the rest of them. And you were arrogant enough to think it would work.”

  His expression darkened for a moment, before letting her comment pass. “So, if I’m going to risk death for this, why don’t you tell me what Ari Kozlov wants with you?”

  She wanted to argue the point, but they were off-world because of Barran. Even if they were in a cramped engine room without recycled oxygen. “Well, let’s just say you’ve seen a little of w
hy Ari wants me.”

  He nodded sagely. “I was wondering where you got your implants.”

  “No implants.” She let Pura lean into her and snuggle against her. “It’s alien tech.”

  “Not Ullyard tech, I hope.” He looked like he’d smelled something unpleasant. “Hukill tech is barely over sticks and stones. Maybe Enos?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing we’ve encountered.”

  His eyes lit up. He opened his mouth to speak.

  “Let’s get out of here first before we negotiate.” Syrah suggested. “No sense in all that work breathing in if we don’t get to leave here.”

  The ship rocked. Pura jerked straight up. "What was that?"

  Barran shook his head. “That’s not us. My communicator would have signaled.”

  “Kozlov.” Syrah looked at Pura.

  “No.” She whispered, looking at Syrah for answers. "Please no."

  “Where’s your ship?” Syrah asked. "How far out?"

  “How should I know?” Barran looked confused. “Ships don't stay still in space.”

  “Not good enough, Barran. I need coordinates. Where did you leave the ship?” Syrah demanded.

  Barran pulled out another small black box, this one with a vidscreen. It showed the vectors of space located around the planet. A small, green blip resided on the box, not far from a big, green blip that was the planet. “There.”

  Syrah took the box, and focused on it. She studied the coordinates laid out on the console. “Okay, for the record, this is going to suck. But it’s this or the Kozlovs, and I think we all know what we’re in for there.”

  Barran nodded. “Apparently crazy's on the menu all day today.”

  “Hold her.” Syrah passed Pura over to him, her gangly frame