Loyalties

Chapter 27

I lost track of time around halfway through. But finally, we reached it to the yacht yard. It's a circular structure made from concrete. The sign shone bright with silver, all the lettering in gold. The rim of the structure was made from a thick, weathered piece of oak wood, lamination reflecting the sun's rays.

Alex looks at his pad. "Shuttle E.T.A fifteen minutes," he says, raising his rifle to his shoulder and slowly walking in. "Just gotta hold out until it gets here. Hopefully airspace isn't too crowded."

I look up at the sky before walking in. It's a mix of Black Sun cruisers landing and fiery debris from friendly ships falling. "It's pretty crowded," I say, looking behind as we walk in. Once I know we are clear, I turn around, and can't believe my eyes. All the yachts are destroyed. Some have been crushed by concrete, some by large debris, while others just exploded. 

"Thank goodness you called that shuttle in," I say, scanning for anything that still might work. There's nothing. "Should we search around for something?"

Alex nods, and takes off to the left, hopping over a large slab of concrete. I look to the right where a once luxurious yacht is now crushed to bits. I walk over and rummage through bits of scrap. Nothing worth saving.

When this war started, I never thought I'd live to see the Black Sun banner flying much longer than a week. I thought our strategies would have beaten them. But, now, whoever isn't dead yet is fighting to survive from an enemy who's grip of fear rules over everything. The roses will turn black, and the sun will never shine.

As I rip open part of an engine access panel, I run a whole bunch of places to stay safe through my head. Cottage in Lindsfarne, I think as I inspect part of the burner. Nope, it'll be too easy to find. How about the Belt? The burner is fried, but the components around it are fine. If the Black Sun doesn't kill us before, the asteroids will. I guess the only option now is to find some uncharted part of the universe and call it home.

I crawl underneath the rear of the yacht which is propped up on large chunks of concrete. The space is just wide enough for me to fit through. I grab my rifle and look at the next destroyed yacht. There's a fluid leaking out of the lower bit. I put my index finger underneath it, and bring it up to my nose. I take a small whiff, and crinkle my nose in disgust. It's fuel, highly flammable as well.

"Well, shit," I mutter, walking along to the next yacht. The next one isn't damaged by anything too badly. I hop inside the cockpit and try powering it up. All the lights turn on. A flashing light catches my attention.

A display of the yacht flashes up in front of my, showing there's a power failure to the rear right engine. I start to enter in the code to try and bypass.

"Adrian!" Alex yells, his rifle on his shoulder. "Hostiles incoming!"

I hop out of the cockpit and peak around the front of the yacht. A squad of at least thirty Black Sun soldiers enter through the front, lasers searching.

Alex takes the first shot, hitting one in the arm. He ducks back down. The soldier falls to the ground, clutching his arm. The rest raise their rifles, looking around.

I look down the sights, looking for my target. I eye a soldier whose back is turned, looking up in the air. I put my finger on the trigger, waiting for the right time. The soldier looks generally in my direction, and I fire. However, another soldier got in the way. I was spotted. I go behind the yacht, hearing the opposite side getting pounded by plasma bolts and rails. I peak back out and fire a couple of shots. None hit.

Alex pops back up, unleashing a barrage of rails. Pretty soon, his clip is empty.

"Alex!" I yell, pulling a magazine off of my belt. I show it to him, and he nods. I look around the yacht, and sprint to Alex's position. I fire at the soldiers, hitting one in the chest and one in the leg. I slide once I'm a meter away from the piece of metal.

"Need this?" I ask, handing the magazine to him. "I got one left after that."

"Thanks buddy," he says, unloading the empty magazine. He puts his rifle down and throws the empty at the enemy. "Hope you didn't want that as a souvenir." He stands up. I follow.

"Don't worry," I say, holding down the trigger, feeling the rails thunder out of the barrel. "I wasn't planning on it."

Alex aims at a soldier who hides behind the leaking yacht. I grab his shoulder and pull him back down.

"Some of these yachts still have fuel in them," I scold. "Ignite one, you could possibly ignite them all!"

Alex looks at his wrist. "Evac is thirty seconds out," he says. "We can hold out."

I look around the corner and fire five shots. Two hit one soldier, the others burying themselves in someone else. My rifle clicks.

"Fuck!" I yell a little too loudly. I unload my empty magazine, quickly slap in my final spare, and cock the gun. I stand back up when the shuttle flies overhead, launching a couple missiles at the entrance. It swings around, and lowers itself to a hover. The hatch opens up.

"Let's go!" I say, looking at Alex.

"You go, I'll stay," he responds, firing another shot.

"No!" I shake my head. "No, you're coming with and we're getting the fuck out of here!"

"Someone's gotta hold them off," he says. He takes off his helmet, smirking.

I sigh, holding back a tear. I reach out my arm, and he does likewise. I grab the middle of his forearm.

"It's been an honor serving with you, Alex Daemon," I say, smiling.

"The honor is all mine, buddy," he replies, bringing me in for a hug. "You're a great friend, Adrian," he says.

"You too, mate," I say back, backing away.

"Go, I'll cover you!" Alex yells, putting his helmet back on and continues to fire. I leave my rifle on the ground and climb up on the extended plank.

"Let's go," I say, feeling the shuttle lift off. I press my head against the door. Out of a window, I can see we're coming about. I rush up to the cockpit, and see a swarm of Black Sun closing in on the yacht yard.

"Circle around, we need to get-"

An explosion interrupts me. The whole yacht yard turns into a flame, the thunderous sound of the fuel tanks of three dozen yachts exploding at once.

I stare in horror. My best friend, someone who's basically a brother to me, is now gone. We grew up together, went through school together, trained together, and a couple times even got unintentionally promoted together.

A couple long seconds of silence pass, interrupted by the pilot asking me something.

"Orders, sir?" he asks, snapping me out of my trance.

"Dread Armada, " I say. "Take us home."