Aetheral Space

Chapter 2:1.2: Sparks of Red

Dragan leapt to his feet, all the theories and hypotheses in his head being replaced with panic in an instant. Had he been right? Was Blaine after him?!

The steel chair toppled to the floor with a dull thunk.

No, no. He mustn’t panic. Dragan clutched his chest with a hand, his breathing heavy. Even if Blaine were after him, there was no way she could get him. She was strapped down with the best prison equipment the Supremacy can buy.

Liar. This ship is cheap and fragile. You know that.

Why, oh why must his inner monologue be so traitorous? Dragan looked around his cabin. What was his best course of action? Hide here? Prepare to fight?

She’s a seasoned criminal. You’re a glorified clerk. Fighting isn’t an option, idiot.

Hiding, then? There was room under the bed for him to squeeze. In the chaos of an escape, she wasn’t going to be able to check every nook and cranny. Likely she wouldn’t even check this cabin.

Are you sure about that?

Yes, of course he was sure.

Don’t be. If she’s escaping with such ease, it’s likely she has help on the inside. If that’s the case, it’s more than possible she already knows which cabin you’ve been assigned to. You should get as far away as possible as quickly as possible.

With the fear slowing his deliberate thinking, Dragan’s subconscious reasoning was outpacing his conscious mind by a wide margin. It wasn’t great to be looked down on by yourself.

He charged for the door, pulling himself into the corridor the moment the sliding doors opened.

The hallway beyond was bathed in red light, the ship on high alert. Whooping sirens echoed, and steel shutters had slammed down to cover all the viewports and windows. It was like being packed into a can.

If Blaine was coming for him, assuming she knew his location, he needed to hide in a cabin two doors away from his own.

If he hid in his own cabin, he’d be found without question. But if he didn’t, there was a possibility Blaine would think she’d gotten the wrong cabin and

With all her strength, Ruth Blaine threw Dragan to the side, abandoning her load. In what was becoming a depressingly common experience, he landed in a painful heap in a place he didn’t recognize, dull brown rather than the sleek white of the ship.

You’re in their shuttle. They’ve opened the back port for Blaine.

Adjusting himself into the least painful position, Dragan witnessed the sequence of events that consumed the next few seconds.

When he’d charged, Muzazi’s sword had been pointed upwards towards the ceiling - and now, he brought it down in a devastating downward slash. At the same moment, Blaine’s red Aether burst into a flash of light just as her opponents had before he charged. When it cleared, the skeletal armour she’d been wearing for her escape had been replaced with a new ensemble.

Rather than the scrapyard aesthetic that she’d had previously, this new set of armour was marble white, covering her own body, artful contours and delicate engravings making it seem like something ceremonial rather than being meant for battle. A tuft of her red hair escaped through an opening in the back of the helmet, still glowing.

The descending sword struck the helmet, and two things happened at once: the helmet shattered like glass, and Atoy Muzazi went flying backwards.

Blaine went flying backwards too of course, with a high-pitched yelp of pain, but it wasn’t nearly as violent. Her going flying was a result of the force of the blow, whereas Muzazi was sent towards the entrance with such speed that it was like he’d been repelled by a magnet.

Even with the obviously painful blow - a trail of blood was trickling down into her left eye - Blaine didn’t waste her opportunity. She turned and ran for the shuttle, the rest of her burdensome white armour disintegrating into red Aether. There was another flare as she switched to her skeletal set and, with the enhanced speed that seemed to grant, she leapt into the shuttle like an animal pouncing on its prey.

Run for it. This is your last chance.

Dragan tried to get up, he really did, but his legs didn’t obey him. Neither did his hands, for that matter. All his limbs were shivering in shock, and any attempts to get them to do anything but that were doomed for failure.

The back port slid shut with a cold thunk - and a moment later, the craft rumbled with the sensation of thrusters and speed.

Blaine heaved a sigh of relief, Dragan a groan of despair.

He had officially been kidnapped.