ARC10

Chapter 32.2

The light blasts out, dispersing in a thousand bolts. They hit our starboard bow.

The violent turbulence thrashes the prisoners. They become boneless meat in their straps.

Alarms wail as the ship's power dies. The red emergency lights beam their ominous shadows into the cells.

ARC10 freezes mid-air. We realize the potential for death sitting here with us.

"It's been a pleasure, my friends! We're beefcakes now!" Martin screams from the cell.

A second light flashes through the brig. The brutal impact punches ARC10 sideways.

This is worse than my nightmares.

Because I'm trapped here—restrained against my better judgment.

I'm going to die sitting next to a jail. I'm going to die right here in this busted ship without my gun. I'm going to die with a secret curled into my belly. I'll have never witnessed the sun rise and fall in the same day. I'll have never told Dean I love him.

Another bright beam.

Another painful jerk sideways.

We're falling out of the sky. Our arms, legs, hair, hearts, freefall as we careen backward.

We'll be back on Earth ETA thirty seconds.

Gripping the loose bits of my ATACs, I dig my nails into the material. I force myself to continue breathing as I wait for my life to flash before my eyes.

The prisoners resume their frantic screaming—it's loud enough to sound like joy.

We jolt again. My body slams against the restraints.

We level off.

A long pause captures our attention. Umpire and Norbit clutch their harnesses. Umpire glances at me with tears building in his eyes. Norbit refuses to divert attention from his knees.

Out the window, the Invader ships hover closer than before. I've rarely observed them so close. They're deformed. They're thousands of scraps of rejected metal forged together by a sinister mastermind into an odious shape with no name.

The white beam sparks to life.

I've had those guns aimed at me a hundred times before. When they swivel to face my window, pointing directly at my ship, I don't bother guessing what comes next. I'm an expert on this already.

This is it. The final blow. I'll be a spectator of our doom from my front-row seat.

The rumbling intensifies as we brace for impact. The light outside the ship flares—I stare unflinching at our doom.

Even though I never said it, I loved them. I hope they knew.

My hand moves unconsciously to my belly. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

Return fire punches the Invader ship before it blasts its beam at us. It explodes.

It does.

Not us.

It.

"What's happening, Boss?" Umpire shouts, his twang of suppressed panic fooling no one.

"Something hit the Invaders," I say, stupefied.

"Fuck yeah!" Norbit shouts.

Three flying objects streak the sky, spitting shots at the Invaders ship. They zip by so fast, it takes three tries for me to identify them.

"Fighter jets!" I can't contain the thrill of witnessing them in action. "There's three in formation. They've struck the Invader gun."

Another shot from the jets to the Invaders. Direct hit. The guns burst on impact.

A smaller Invader ship lurks behind the larger one. It fires at the three.

One jet falls in a burst of white light, black smoke billowing behind it. Savage sorrow consumes me as I watch the fallen hero tailspin into oblivion.

The two fighters circle the enemy ship, shooting, hitting, missing, diving. I nearly pass out when another joins the formation.

ARC10 climbs again.

The bright shots volley between the jets. There are many. The farther away ARC10 retreats, the more come into view. I count five, seven, ten, fifteen, many more. The other ARCs are out of sight. The Invaders are a mighty force, but they seem distracted enough to let us abscond with marginal damage.

I flip on my PAHLM to study the blaring red alerts for what was massacred in the escape.

Okay, maybe not marginal.

We take to the stars as the battle over Earth's remains wages on.

Umpire and Norbit laugh, slapping hands. They join the manic hollering of the prisoners.

We cruise. For nearly an hour after the excitement, we wait for the Invaders to return or for ARC10 to receive more hostile fire.

But there's none.

A low vibration emits from my PAHLM.

[Incoming Message: PHAYOMO]

ALL CLEAR

Without hesitation, I unstrap and thank the Lady for the chance to take one more step toward a new home. Forty-eight hours of cruising, the engineers said. Forty-eight hours to recharge the battery so we can drive through space, jumping from system to system as if we were humping the universe.

"All clear, gentlemen. Begin preliminary cruising checks."

Martin's low chuckle resurfaces. "They're going to fry your brains. All of you. They're going to fry each of you. They want your eyes for cheeseballs. Then they'll be able to taste your future and see your feet." He roars with laughter.

"What the hell does that even mean?" Umpire asks, glaring at the ten who are giddy like air bubbles in tight bottles.

"You have to admit—shit's funny," Norbit says, intensely entertained by one of the girls dancing in her holster.

"It's another thing we have to be on the watch for," I say as the incarcerated act out a ludicrous puppet show with their hands. "If these ten geniuses managed to acquire whatever this is, there'll probably be more."