The Heretic of Sælonis ||A Sci-Fi Romance Novella||

exactly, delivery boy

When I'd made the decision to land on Allastan, it had been out of necessity more than anything else. Entering its airspace and not getting anything back on comms... I'd put it down to there being something wrong with my ship. It wouldn't be the first problem, nor would it be the last.

But upon landing and going to find a mechanic, I stumbled upon the cause of why there was a lack of communication from the towers.

It's because those towers were empty. Raiders had taken the docking bays, and I hadn't realised until I was separated from my ship and too many of them were between me and what was mine. They'd laid a perfect trap that I'd stumbled into blindly.

So far I'd managed to get back to the bay my ship was in, but now I was...

I was pinned.

It was rough to admit to it, but there wasn't really a better way to put it. And the only way to get out of this would be to have someone working with me from behind their lines... and their fucking transportable turret.

There was only one option I could really think of that might save my ass, and I hated the fact I'd even come up with it. But if these raiders kill me, then they would have access to my ship. They have access to my ship, then they have access to her... she might not like what they'd do to her if given the chance.

"Fuck." I whispered as I shook my head. No. It was a stupid idea. Instead, I should just open the ramp and make a break for it.

That would be the smart thing to do. Not the other idea.

Alright. Let's give it a go. I clicked the controller built into my armour, and heard the familiar screech of the loading ramp coming down on my ship.

Okay.

Now I just had to wait for a gap in the turrets shots to make a break for it. That wouldn't happen. I would just have to run and hope my armour held up against the concentrated blasts of the Aura. It was only red... I could survive red. It's not like it was gold.

Gold would be a problem.

"Are you all good out there, delivery boy?" I heard Vosiuth's voice echo from the loading bay of the ship. She was right where I left her, cuffed to the net, holding a stack of crates down. Shots were directed towards the ship, but luckily they bounced off her armour. "How many are there?" She shouted next. Damn it. I was going to have to ask for her fucking help. That was... I didn't want to do that. "Are you pinned down?" I really didn't want to ask. I mean, asking a prisoner to save my ass was the lowest of lows. "Because I can help!"

Damn it. I ducked back behind the metal barrier that had been dug into the sand of the bay. It was the only cover I had available, and if I didn't act soon, it would fall apart and shield me from absolutely nothing. "There's at least thirty raiders!"

"Only thirty?" That tone of voice... she knew I should be able to handle this.

She had been right when she assumed I was a high-bred Mertonian. The thing about good breeding for my home planet was that the ability for controlled violence was genetic, not learned. While I couldn't remember my time on Mertonis, she'd also been right to assume Sethes wouldn't have offered me a place as a Huntsman if I hadn't been well-bred. They needed the strongest soldiers possible for the Huntsman division.

"They have a transportable turret!" If that didn't make her realise how screwed we were, I didn't know what would. I could take thirty raiders on. They didn't function as a unit, and had no military training to back themselves up. It would be easy pickings if they didn't have a weapon larger than me to skew the odds in their favour. "It's between me and the ship!"

There was a moment of silence, where I thought that maybe they'd killed her and the long shot of my survival with her. But then her voice carried across the dusty landing bay. "Un-cuff me!"