It was the chance I'd been waiting for—the chance to escape TRF, the Talent Research Facility that had held me captivefor so many years. A heavy electrical storm had passed through and this time shorted out a power grid, knocking out service to the housing wing of the facility. It would only be a split-second before backup power engaged, and in that chance-of-a-lifetime moment, I'd make my move.
My heart was pounding with the anticipation of an escape from this facility—this scientific prison. The night duty TRF associates manager shouted orders to the others, making sure the system would come back online correctly and lockdown would be secure. The lights dimmed and flickered, then went out. The familiar hum of the security system to the individual housing doors paused as the power ceased. I pulled my door open just enough to keep it from locking back down.
The other participants picked up on this opportunity as well. Their yells and shrieks resounded off the walls as they ran from their rooms. This freedom sent some of them into a frenzy—running through the halls, frantically searching for a further way out. This was the type of reaction I'd hoped for. The night duty associates went scrambling for those who were loose, leaving my area clear for my own escape.
It was in this madness that I kept my calm. I quickly went to my closet and grabbed the small bundle of belongings I had already prepared for such a moment as this, and I left my room dressed in a TRF associate's required attire that I had hidden away months before. I grabbed the set of backup key entry cards that someone had pulled out due to the storm, along with a clipboard from one of the night stations, and then looking like a concerned professional TRF associate, I began my flight to freedom.
I made my way out of the facility in the cover of darkness, walking part of the length of the air landing field before I saw it: a small transport shuttle with the words "Javelin-Star" on the side. The shuttle waited silently on the mostly unlit tarmac, its outer landing lights glowing a soft orange as if beckoning me to board. It was strange that a shuttle was here in the middle of the night, in pre-flight standby, with hardly any landing beacons lit. But that would only be in my favor, and I didn't think another thing about it as I quickly slipped aboard.
I hurriedly changed from the white lab coat and pants into a long saree, the whole while keeping my eyes peeled for any signs of security. I tightened the garment close about me, especially around my head to cover my blonde hair. I slipped between a tall stack of secured containers and empty lockers, which gave me a moment to listen and calculate my next move. Time passed, and there were no sounds inside or outside the shuttle. All was silent and calm, something I hadn't experienced in years. A soft sigh escaped me as the quiet and warmth enveloped me, letting the emotional and physical stress drain from my mind and body. Soon I began to drift off, compliments of the evening's ritual injection of a sleep aid given to each participant.
I woke up dazed, my mind blank. Only my physical senses were waking from the drug induced deep sleep. I was cold and being shaken...no, not shaken. Slammed. Something was wrong. There were raised, anxious voices. Someone was shouting orders as loud dings blasted through the hull. My mind unfroze, and I suddenly remembered where I was. Aboard the Javelin-Star, leaving behind a terrible life I had been forced to live.
I could hear a female voice yelling, "The fuel reservoirs have been ruptured, losing altitude! We're gonna crash!"
I blinked, trying to clear my vision. Reaching out, I tried to grasp something to hold onto, but my hands and fingers were so cold and weak. There was a terrible jerk, and part of the hull tore away in a blinding fury of twisting metal. I fell to the cold metal floor, hitting it hard. Pieces of debris hissed past me in every direction. Alarms sounded and lights flashed. People's voices were louder now, more panicked. All at once, I felt it: the horrific impact, and the heavy weight that landed across my chest. Then everything went dark.
When I came to, I struggled for breath. Whatever had landed on me was pinning my entire upper body beneath it, crushing my chest. There were no alarms, no lights. Faint voices conversed in the background, but as hard as I tried I couldn't speak, couldn't ask for help. My head began to spin from lack of oxygen, and a wave of blackness began to take me. The voices were drifting farther away…
Then suddenly, a deep, low voice close to my ear said, "Don't move." He started moving the debris from my chest.
My lungs sucked in the hot, dusty air as if I was breathing in a cool and clean mountain breeze. It didn't matter; I could breathe now. The blood rushed to my upper body. It engorged the veins in my neck, and my temples pulsed wildly. The pounding in my head at that moment was almost unbearable. I looked around to see who had released me from certain death, but I only got a glimpse of his wrists and the bright shine of something silver. I waited a few moments, still trying to catch my breath. I sat up slowly. My chest hurt, my arms hurt, my head started pounding again, and I knew I was going to be very sore for a few days.
A woman with short, brown hair helped me to my feet. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I think so," I tried to say, but my voice was barely audible.
I was standing, no broken bones as far as I could tell. The saree I wore was torn here and there, but for the most part intact. The cloth was plain, a bland gray, far from the beautiful colors and feminine tapers of the traditional style of the saree, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself on my journey.
I began searching for my belongings. There wasn't much, but I had, over a period of a year, scrimped, saved, and kept hidden the necessary things I needed to start a new life for myself. The money and important papers were still safely tucked into the inner pocket of my garment. It seemed everything else had been lost in the crash.
A man walked over and introduced himself as Captain Patrick Freeman, and I noticed the silver watch on his wrist. Just as I tried to thank him for saving me from a crushing death, the woman looked at me and scowled in frustration. "Who are you anyway? And how did you get aboard our ship?"
"I—I came on board while you were docked on Tigres," I replied.
There was so much confusion and fear that questioning me further was the least of their worries. Captain Freeman had already assessed the situation, tried to contact their homeport, and then asked me to search what was left in cargo to see if there was any water or medical supplies. All of us were cut and bruised.
I followed Captain Freeman inside the broken ship. I noticed that he was an average sized man, slim but fit. He had deep brown eyes and sandy colored hair that was a crew cut style. It was the mandatory hairstyle for male pilots and shaven even shorter for military men—or prison inmates. Hayden Teague, the dark haired woman who had helped me to my feet, was the copilot, according to the nametag on her vest. She was a pretty, shapely young woman who was a few inches shorter than I was, with sparkling green eyes.
He pointed to the area he wanted me to search, and then he headed a few feet away to talk to his copilot. It sounded serious, so I tried to catch what they were saying while I looked through the rubble.
Copilot Hayden Teague pointed to the back of the shuttle and said, "Just look at those slashed fuel lines! They'll never be fixed."
Captain Freeman shook his head in disbelief. "Of all the fugitives in the galaxy, he has to be the one to hijack our shuttle, and on our last damn drop-off! For a big man he sure is quiet, moves like a panther. I never even knew he'd gotten aboard until he was on me with that self-fashioned blade of his."
"Sounds like he's pretty dangerous."
"Dangerous, and a madman," he said, as his hand purposefully rested on the hilt of his laser pistol.
"Is that why the guard tower on DeLorma sent out their galaxy strikers and shot us down, because of this fugitive? Who is he?"
"His name's Cade Rogan. He was a highly trained and decorated Special Forces military officer, still serving in active duty during the Trade Wars in the Meridan quadrant until he lost it and started killin' his own men. Then he took off, became a military deserter, and started murdering any innocent civilian that got in his path."
"The guy must have gone on a bloody trek of insanity," said the copilot, her voice quivering as she spoke.
"Yeah, he did, but was finally caught, convicted, and sent to the highest security military prison in the galaxy, Baykal. He was held in the deepest, roughest part of the prison until he escaped. He's been a fugitive for years now. There hasn't been a ranger or mercenary yet that's stayed alive long enough to bring him in. He's a violent killer. He has a whole slew of other convictions on his record as well. Rogan is very intelligent, cool and calculating, cocky and strong. He's skilled with all kinds of weapons, especially blades and guns."
I watched as a look of panic formed on the copilot's face. Captain Freeman put his hand on her shoulder and said, "I think for now Rogan just wants his freedom."
"That doesn't mean he won't come back…for us."
Captain Freeman nodded his head in agreement. "Considering who he is, we better take precautions."
This information not only frightened me, but also intrigued me. I didn't know why. Maybe it was because I had just escaped death, the death of the life I'd left behind, and the crash of this ship. Now I overheard that there was more danger to human life. Even after everything I had just survived, another threat. I thought about this as our small group foraged what we could from the crash site.
All three of us were tired, bruised, and most especially thirsty. The crash landing had been terribly rough. The storage compartments at the back of the shuttle had been badly damaged, and the water tanks were buried underneath heavy lockers. Captain Freeman and his copilot began to work together to pull the storage lockers off of the water tanks.
"Let me help," I said to them, as I rolled up my sleeves, exposing the bruises that had already begun turning blue up and down my arms.
The copilot noted the bruises as she asked, "You sure? Looks like you were banged up pretty bad."
"I'll manage. I've been through worse."
"All right then." She smiled and motioned me to help. "So, what's your name?"
I gave a slight smile. "Alexa."
"My name's Hayden."
The three of us worked together and pulled the locker units up. One water tank was completely demolished while the other was busted and most of the water had leaked out. I found a small plastic container and began catching what was left of the leaking water.
"It's not much, but what's left should give us all a couple of good swallows," said Hayden.
Once we caught all the water we could, Hayden brought out a small tin cup. She went to Captain Freeman and poured him his allotted amount, then hers. The only water left to be given out was mine. I wondered for a moment if they would actually give me some of the precious liquid, knowing they could've had more for themselves if I hadn't stowed aboard.
Then Hayden poured the water, emptying the last drops from the plastic container into the cup, and handed it to me. "Here ya go. Enjoy. No more where that came from."
The sun began to set as I finished my water and sat down inside the broken shuttle. Captain Freeman climbed back up front to the pilot seat and started working with the communications system again. He must have been hoping beyond hope that some way, somehow it would work. Hayden sat down and leaned back against the hull, resting her head against one of the support beams. The hololight above cast a dim, eerie glow on us. Captain Freeman wouldn't allow it to be turned off, and he had almost gone into a panic when Hayden had reached up to turn it out. After the three of us settled in, it became deathly still all around us, and the only sound I could hear was the light breaths of sleep coming from Hayden. I drifted into an uneasy sleep myself.
Once it became light outside, I finally got a good look at the surroundings of the planet. It was desolate, with large boulders jutting out of the brown, dusty ground here and there. I couldn't see any vegetation at all, not a tree, a bush, or a sprig of grass in sight. The harsh glare from the planet's sun beat down without mercy, making us squint our eyes until it hurt. I could tell by the look on Captain Freeman's face that he was thinking the same thing as I; we weren't going to last long out in this heat without any water.
Captain Freeman motioned to the south while shoving some papers into his vest pocket. "This is an arid planet. There's only one spot that has any water if we can get to it. It's the only mountainous area on this planet with a deep valley below it, created when a meteor struck here. Now, the few times there's any precipitation, it quickly runs into streams that only exist during the time of the rainfall, and settles in that valley where the ground is impermeable. So the water is held there, in a lake."
Hayden walked up beside Captain Freeman and asked, "Did you have any luck with the communications system?"
He started gathering supplies to put in a cargo net. "Not yet, but I'll take it with us. We need to get it to work if we intend on getting off this rotten planet."
"Won't a rescue team from our home port automatically come for us when we don't return as scheduled?"
"No one will come. We were traveling a little used transport lane and crashed on an uncharted planet."
"What do you mean no one will come for us? We're stranded on an uncharted planet?" Hayden brushed the brown bangs from her eyes and then continued, "I thought it was odd to be using that old transport lane. Why—"
"Look, I'm the captain! You don't question my orders; you follow them!"
Suddenly he froze with a look of terror on his face. Then we all saw the shadow cross the line of sunlight beaming through a crack in the ship. Captain Freeman's eyes never left the shadow as his hand reached for the laser pistol at his side. Hayden reached down for hers as well. There was no sound at all. He quickly and quietly moved to the torn opening of the hull and checked outside. He leaned back with a sigh of relief and holstered his laser pistol. "Just a bird."
Hayden and I looked at each other, then back at Captain Freeman.
"I know, I know," he said, as he saw our faces. "That bird means there's food and water on this planet. There's no doubt it's in that valley. Let's gather what supplies we can from this wreck and head out. We need to find shelter before nightfall."
It was beginning to dawn on me that Captain Freeman knew an awful lot about this particular uncharted planet. It made me wonder just what else he knew, and how much of it he was keeping to himself. Things just weren't adding up. They'd landed on Tigres in the middle of the night, right before a storm, and were using an old, seldom used transport lane. I wondered if in my escape I had jumped from the boiling pan into the fire.