A Flicker of Hope from the Stars
“God, is this going to work? Is this finally the last attempt?”
Thomas wrung his hands nervously, running coarse fingertips over scarred skin. He’d never been one to fight back, nor had he ever been one to run – always frozen in place, taking beat after beat. But alas, when you back prey into a corner far enough, do you blame it for its claws?
Flicking through the tracker manual, his mahogany eyes scanned for a range, desperate for a sign his escape was possible. He had to make it out, by himself.
“The manuals online said two hundred lightyears – so why’s this one saying two hundred and fifty?”
Thomas choked back a sob, sweat beading down his fluttering chest. Surely it was a typo, they were always updating the flight manuals online.
But what if it was right?
His dinghy old ship could only handle another one hundred and fifty additional to the fifty he’d already done, let alone two hundred and fifty in total! Sure – two hundred and fifty lightyears weren’t that large of a value with modern ships, but the rusting metal casing of his would not handle the length contraction required. His favourite special relativity textbook detailed that in more extent than he’d liked – kindly stolen from Thomas’s partner, Elias.
Nonetheless, he carried on. What other option was there? He’d never stoop so low as to ask for help.
The seat groaned, torn leather creasing as Thomas got up, leaning over to place the manual back on the sideboard. He scanned the horizon, searching for rogue obstacles.
Nope. Nothing but tourists heading off for their next adventure… hopefully.
The intercom crackled to life, flooding the cramped ship with an eerie pause as it waited for its participant to speak. A feminine, but cruel and calculated voice echoed through the nooks and crannies of the chamber,
“Good evening citizen. The Andromeda international police department kindly request you follow the highlighted section to undergo a scan of your vehicle, C177. This will only take approximately 5 minutes.”
Goosebumps prickled his pale skin, heat flooding through his veins. Had he cleaned out the cargo hold since his last escapade? Knowing his luck, there’d be some old part he’d stolen --- with an owner whose anger had had time to fester. Prison was never a fear of his, but right now Thomas couldn’t afford to be held up for so long, his escape so close in his fingertips. As soon as he was incarcerated, his abusers would arrive at the door – demanding their daughter.
Gritting his teeth, Thomas’s hands shook as he turned the wheel away, battered black boot flattening the pedal.
“Citizen! Do not resist!”
The ship launched to life, speedometer flying off the rails as the engines roared, vibrations shaking the hull with every thrust.
Blood stained his clothes; hip smashing into the burning corner of the toolbox as his seat violently span around. Pain flared through him, sending a whimper clawing from his lips. Sirens blared behind him, lighting his wings with the familiar twinge of flickering red and blue. His heart chattered, vehemently pounding on the bones encasing it as sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Your sentence will be lightened if you cooperate with us!”
‘INCOMING’ flashed across his vision, buttons flashing warning signs as he swerved, narrowly missing rogue bullets. His wings began to falter, rust shaking old bones out of commission. Calculations darted across his mind, eyes darting to the GPS and back to the skies. The Andromeda cosmos only ranged for what, 30 lightyears?
They’re out of their own territory.
Thomas shook away the thought. Every second felt a step closer to the edge.
This isn’t their skies to patrol.
Relying on false hopes would get him ki-
A blur of white and red blinded his sight, left ribs and stringers crumbling under impact, hull melting away alongside the corpse of his left wing. Warnings blared in his ears – metallic twang flooding his senses – as he flung himself around to the emergency controls. Light fingers searched for signs of escape, fumbling as the heat grew nearer.
Thomas screamed, lungs heaving as the smoke grew darker. ‘Calling Elias,’ the system answered, screen crackling under pressure.
The mere sound of his voice sent a sigh cascading through Thomas’s body. Death had never sounded so sweet.
Thomas heaved, searching for his oxygen tank.
Maybe he could escape the wreck.
The hologram winced, face contorting in fear. A loose hand ran its course through sunlit locs.
“How bad? Where are you?”
Twisting the cork to his oxygen tank, Thomas answered,
“Left wing gone. Cabin filled with smoke. I have enough oxygen in my emergency tank to last half an hour. You have my coordinates.”
His chest heaved, eyes flickering with exhaustion. Just put the mask on.
The mask shook in Thomas’s trembling hands – arms limp with adrenaline withdrawals. Bubbles rose in the tank, oxygen frothing to be used. Elias will find you.
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