"..."
The plain of glass shards stretched as far as the eye could see. There was no life left to make a sound in that world, no life that mattered to him.
The boy stood still, motionless, in the middle of the wasteland. His gaze was lost, turned downward. He wasn't breathing. No thoughts echoed in his mind anymore: only sensations remained, dense as mud; the searing feeling of loss and disappointment.
Trying to understand the world means as well hating it.
--
Second Dominion (Fourth Age)
Aurean Cycle no. 462 of the Macbeth dynasty, reign of Aldric II
Second Quadrant, Silver Pillars
"Shit! Guys, they're shooting at us!" The jolts of the ship, shaken by impacts, sent Jean sliding across the floor, where she crashed painfully.
"Is it? I thought it was turbulence." Amarel, for his part, had already been lying on the ground long before, with his frail body lacking the will to get up. First he adjusted his thick ocher hair, so heavy it covered his eyes; then he rested his head on his hands and began to reassure everyone with some scientific trivia: "Do you know how long a human can survive in the vacuum of space?"
"Please..."
"Not now, man."
"Two minutes, at most. Well, they would faint after twenty seconds, so it does not make much difference. Actually, considering we're near the Silver Pillars, it would be more like ten. The nebula's radiation, you know... I wonder, would the cells collapse first, or the lungs burst?"
"Cool!"
Jean was aghast. "Amarel, we're about to fucking die!"
"Ah, guys... remind me, what's the outside of this ship made of?" Lacrosse, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how many more hits they could take before ending up like Amarel had just described. His lively blue eyes darted quickly across the ship's interior, examining walls and joints.
"Fuck do I know?!" Law protested.
Another boom.
He walked towards the cockpit, rubbing the small of his back. "Shit... I gotta do more stretching."
"Lacrosse, if you want to know," Amarel interveened, "the old man said that it was blue steel and Nylamite. It is indeed combat material, although-"
Another shot. Another jolt. The walls of the ship started making even less reassuring noises than before.
Law steadied himself on the seat before the controls. "Uh, the autopilot? What about it?"
"In this situation, would you trust it?" Amarel replied.
"Got a point... Yo, Jean. Pilot."
"What?!" Jean jumped. "The fuck you want from me?!"
"Bitch, you rambled thirty minutes 'bout how you knew a way around ships and NOW you fold!?"
Jean made a muffled sound, halfway between a snort and an indignant gasp.
"Dude, they were cargo ships! Not prehistoric combat units!"
"What's the difference?!" asked Law. "They've still got levers and an engine, right?"
"NO!" Jean shot back. "It's completely different!"
"No, Law, she's right. Better not go down there. I saw how you drive a hovercar," Amarel echoed. "And I'm not even mentioning when you busted our old ship."
"Oh, be for real, it happened just once!" Law protested, lifting his eyes.
"WE WERE GOING ON A STRAIGHT LINE!"
"...Surrender the stolen goods... or be taken down." The radio above the control panel hissed with interference, then transmitted the message.
"Huh, few words," Law commented.
"Raven's people are always efficient... synthetic and efficient," said Amarel.
"But... why do they have to make such a fuss? We just took the milk of some random animal...!" Lacrosse complained.
"Krava are among the rarest creatures in the galaxy... There's a reason their homeworld isn't listed in the Bestiary," the ocher-haired youth answered. "But more to the point... if no one knows how to properly pilot a ship, why buy one?"
An embarrassed silence followed.
"Shit, autopilots are usually standard, alright?" Law tried to defend himself after a moment.
"In commercial lines, not in smuggling..." Amarel sighed.
"Fire in three..."
"Jean...!"
"I can't do it!"
"Fuck you mean you can't?!"
"Two..."
"Would you rather have a refresher on flight basics or be blown to pieces?"
"One..."
"...Dad..." Jean covered her face.
"Oh well, it's been nice, guys..." Amarel said with resignation.
"Fucking hell..."
"Merde... I'll do it, I'll do it!" Lacrosse suddenly darted to the controls and yanked the stick hard.
The ship lurched upward, throwing the others down. The blaster shot grazed the plating of the fuselage.
"Was that... the landing gear?" Amarel commented.
"Hold on... I guess..." Lacrosse sat down and took the helm.
Jean, sitting at the back, tried to let out a sigh of relief, but it caught halfway. It wasn't over yet.
"What? You can fly?" Law asked in surprise.
"Well... in Crestoria, sometimes my sister and I would sneak out and fly one of the family ships..." the red-haired boy laughed shyly.
Amarel gave a whistle of approval.
"That fancy ass crazy ass lady? She flies?" Jean said, incredulous.
"Well, shit," Law commented in approval. "Now we just need to reach that gate." Law stepped closer to the seat and pointed to a green rectangular silhouette in the distance: their way out, a portal to the nearest space station.
There, they would shake off their pursuers.
Hopefully.
"And... the ship?" Jean pressed.
"Oh, fuck the ship," Law dismissed with a wave of his hand.
"Fuck you mean fuck the ship?!"
"Dude, the ship is half our budget," Amarel echoed, looking at Law with narrow eyes. Then, he turned to Jean, clearing his voice. "What he means is that we will deal with the ship later."
Jean nodded.
Law scoffed.
"Ah! Hold on!" Lacrosse pulled the stick left, grazing another hit, then spun the ship in a spiral, flipping above the pursuing fighter that had been in front of them. Now they were mirrored. Law, Amarel, and Jean fell toward the ceiling.
"Uh... wave..." The group looked down and saw the fighter's pilot staring at them. His face was hidden behind a black helmet, but the grim, impatient gaze still came through.
"Oh, Terex-fiber helmets..." Amarel commented.
"It's tough, not gonna lie."
"True."
Suddenly, their pursuer jerked his stick up and left. Lacrosse and Law immediately understood. "Ah!" the red-haired boy said, copying the move.
Now the two ships were spiraling side by side, ever closer. Closer. Dangerously close.
"...Actually, no, terrible idea!" Lacrosse broke off the maneuver at once, just before one of the two fighters behind could land a direct hit on the Fortwin, the ramshackle ship they were flying, and flipped back above them.
Two red lights lit up on the console, beeping intermittently. "Ah, guys, the landing gear's really gone now. And so is... artificial gravity. Oops." The boy turned toward the others, who were already floating around the cabin.
"Ugh!" An upside-down Amarel gagged.
The three pursuing fighters were matte black. Small, sleek and tapered, with long sharp wings whose tips curved upward. The fuselage was compact and slender, also arched upward at the rear. Along the wings' edges ran silver metallic patterns, two crossing lines forming a diamond motif. Above the cockpit sat an emblem: a silver wing inside a diamond, the symbol of Raven's guild.
"Don't they have anything better to do? How long have they even been around?!" Jean, clinging to a safety bar in the main hall, watched the chaotic view outside.
"You kidding? This is golden, for them," Law replied. "We're the ones who may have bitten off more than we could chew."
"Second thoughts?"
Jean shot him a deadly glare.
Law cleared his throat. "No. 'Course not."
"Watch out!" Lacrosse dodged two more shots from the pursuers. "Okay, we didn't do this kind of thing in the garden."
Gritting his teeth, he pulled off a risky maneuver to shake a fighter that had closed in dangerously, finding himself once again on the same course.
The Fortwin was a bit larger than Raven's fighters. Its fuselage was rounded and had once been coated in bright white paint, but time had faded it into a shade close to light gray. The wings and side appendages were much more angular, and overall the ship looked... well-worn. Its entire surface was dotted with patchwork repairs, with small panels clumsily replaced.
"The old man could have at least kept this thing in decent shape... ugh!" Amarel went on whining before vomiting into a bag.
"If I remember right, he was a rather active bounty hunter. Probably didn't have much time."
"Everyone. Instead of just floating there, how 'bout heading to the cannons?" Law asked.
"What? We have cannons?" Lacrosse brightened.
"Weren't you hearing the man?"
"You want... you want to shoot down guild fighters?" Jean asked, aghast.
Law shrugged. "C'mon, not exactly shoot down..."
Amarel, face pale and dripping with sweat, suggested: "Not thrilled about the idea either... but what if we shook them off inside that asteroid field?" The ocher-haired youth pointed to a cluster of meteorites a few hundred meters ahead.
Lacrosse turned toward him, aghast. "Excuse me?!"
"We'll never reach the gate unless we buy time," Amarel replied.
"Are you suicidal?!" Jean scolded.
The ocher-haired boy gave a faint grin. "Some like it that way..."
"Shit, he got a point," Law said. "In the meantime, we head to the cannons. Lacrosse, you good?"
"Uh..."
"I'm already here!" Amarel shouted from below deck.
"On it." Law went down.
"...Mais non, we definitely didn't do this in the garden," Lacrosse muttered, steering the ship with as much precision as possible. He zipped the Fortwin through the asteroids with surprising dexterity. Raven's three fighters changed formation, lining up one after the other and staying on their target's tail. Sparks and jolts rattled the Fortwin as it scraped past asteroids or blasted smaller rocks, all while resisting, barely, the external fire.
Meanwhile, in the gunnery room, Law, Jean, and Amarel tried to strike back.
"Fifth-gen blasters. Fuck, this ship is prehistoric," Law complained.
"Fun aiming with your reptilian arm?" the scrawny youth teased at his side.
"Doesn't make much difference," Law grumbled, as sparks kept spraying from the stumps of his missing left pinky and ring finger.
"Fifth against eighth..." Jean, for her part, got an idea: she began aiming at the asteroids behind them, which Raven's fighters still had to cross. Breaking the rocks into smaller pieces, she sent the debris crashing into the three black ships more often, damaging and slowing them down. Busy dodging fragments, they failed to notice a gigantic asteroid looming ahead.
"Oh! That one's big!" Up above, Lacrosse yanked the stick toward himself, pulling the ship upward until they cleared the massive rock and finally burst out of the meteor field.
The three small pursuing fighters, on the other hand, barely avoided the asteroid and lost the Fortwin's trail, falling far behind.
"There it is! Our chance!" The red-haired boy shoved the throttle forward, accelerating at full speed and diving into the gate, clipping its edge on the way in.
"Guys, we might've lost a headlight."
"Did we make it?" Jean asked.
"We should have..." Amarel replied.
The ship entered what could only be described as a tunnel, a path with intangible walls. The stars and the entire landscape stretched and warped into a corridor. The Fortwin shuddered. After a while, they left even the stars behind: nothing was visible outside the windows. Jet-black walls. Total silence. Anyone entering a gravitational tunnel for the first time would struggle to tell if they were moving at all.
"Guys?" Jean said timidly.
"Wait for it..."
Oh yes, they were moving. After a moment, a small white light timidly appeared at the end of the tunnel, growing larger and larger. The ship shook again, stars returned, distorted into lines stretched toward the distant light, which expanded more and more. After a few seconds, everything recomposed.
A glare flooded the ship, and they found themselves above a vast platform, covered by a wide glass dome that opened onto the starry sky. The stars had returned to their original form.
Gravity returned. Jean fell face-first to the floor. "Um... are we safe?"
"For now," Law answered, glancing around. "Alright, grab the essentials, the cargo, and let's mobilize. Those sunshines could show up any moment."
The group disembarked. The ship was in pitiful shape: scratches and dents across the fuselage, panels crooked and uneven, the tip of the left wing torn off. The landing gear was gone. And a headlight too.
Above the main console blinked a message, left by the old owner: "We're still here... don't ask how."
As soon as Jean set foot on the ground, she fell to her knees and began sobbing. "Oh... fuck! Thanks! I felt awful! Thought it was the end!"
"Girl, come on, don't be so dramatic..." Amarel remarked, dusting off his clothes.
Lacrosse stood still, incredulous at what he had just pulled off. Law walked up and patted him on the shoulder. "Shit... bet your sister didn't teach you that. You go back, you'll look like a legend."
Lacrosse laughed timidly at the compliment.
The group grabbed their bags with the bare essentials and the load of Krava milk, then left the platform. Crossing a short white corridor, they emerged into the sight. "Wow..." the red-haired boy simply exclaimed, in awe.
The Stella Nova, rose majestic in the void like a star of glass and crystals and metal. It was a gigantic structure, made of a series of interconnected modules extending in all directions, forming a network of corridors and platforms like the one they had landed on. The platform varied in size, from small ones for personal ships to massive docks for the corporations' titanic carriers. Each platform had a gate, from which ships emerged, arriving from the farthest reaches of the quadrant.
The space station was an architectural marvel, one of the pinnacles of Macbeth government resources. Its exteriors were clad in alloys immune to solar rays and radiation, with glass panels reflecting the light of nearby stars. Holographic projections created energy barriers to shield the station from meteor impacts and provide defenses against every kind of threat.
Law, Jean, Amarel, and Lacrosse looked down at the constant flow of hovercars and beings from every corner of the galaxy moving through the station. Bright colors, neon lights, and glowing signs lined the corridors and streets, swarming with every shape of life. The group descended and entered.
Inside, the place was essentially a city, with countless businesses, street foods, tech shops, nightclubs, housing, and administrative offices. Walking the streets, the four crossed paths with individuals from different species and planets, hurrying through the corridors and creating a kaleidoscope of faces, clothes, and languages.
"Does the translator work here?" Jean asked, touching the small implant behind her ear.
"There's so much diversity it might overload," Amarel replied.
The constant artificial gravity, generated by strategically placed cores, allowed inhabitants to live and work comfortably inside the station. Suspended bridges and elevators connected the various levels of the structure, making it easier to move through that environment.
"La vache..." Lacrosse murmured, walking and looking around. "Imagine what it's like to live here."
"Yeah. Check out the rent prices and then we'll talk," Law grumbled.
"Tell him," Amarel added with a smirk.
"In any case, looks like Raven's men haven't found us… at least not yet. Let's keep a low profile, find the terminal for our destination, and review the plan."
The others nodded.
Law was about to move on when his stomach rumbled.
"Yeah, don't know about y'all, but I'll get a bite."