Elyon

Protected

A hand touches his shoulder. He jerks his head up. He can't see. His ocular implants focus and refocus, but it's no good, they can't get a fix on the bearer of the light. Just the hand that rests on his shoulder. It's a three-clawed hand.

He hears a voice. He feels as though he has heard it before, but can't quite place where. The tone is so full and rich, and expresses so many different emotions. Love. Sorrow. Authority. Joy.

But how could Joy and Sorrow co-exist? Where was there a place for Love in Authority?

And yet the one word that the voice spoke pulls at him, and he feels a longing in a place he cannot point to as it washes over him.

"Come."

...

Red opened his eyes, adjusting for a moment as he took in his surroundings. A tense-looking Irken with a fatigued expression sat in the pilot's seat of a Voot cruiser—so he was in a Voot—as stars and space debris whirled past them at alarming speeds.

The Irken turned to him—Dantie, his mind filled in—still dressed in full armor.

"My Tallest, you're awake!" Was that relief? "There's only so much the autopilot can do, and I don't know how to fly this. You have to steer, they're catching up!"

Numbly, Red rose, pushing Dantie out of the seat and taking his place. He glanced at the last command given to the computer, which appeared to be something along the lines of "Help, the Tallest is in danger, get us out of here!" That would have been enough to activate the emergency AI hardwired into all Voots. In case of emergency evacuation of a Tallest, all ships were programmed to divert all excess power to speed and shielding, and fly into deep space as fast as possible.

But Purple would know how to track him, and would know about this protocol.

Red flipped open the control panel, disconnecting a few wires, and cross-wiring others. No more tracking. Turning back to the wheel, he said, "Deactivate Tallest Rescue protocol 71569."

"But, My Tallest!" Dantie protested.

"Speed won't help now." Red said flatly. "Unpredictability will." His claws tightened around the steering. "Talk, Krissirk. What happened?"

"You collapsed when we got to the Voot My Tallest. I just... shouted at the ship computer, and it got us out of the docking bay before it locked down. But My Tallest, have you seen—"

"I don't have TIME to see things right now!" Red snapped. "See what you will, I have to see our way out of this!" On the console, he noted fifteen blips closing in fast. They would try and take him alive, but once he'd downed four or five of them, they would switch to kill mode. Purple would bemoan his Co-Ruler who had gone insane, and the Empire would be run by a puppet to an unseen force that nobody could combat.

Briefly, he wondered how Purple would feel if he died. If he could still think and feel for himself.

He scanned the rest of the controls for information and paused. The display had an odd readout on it. Usually it would only list nearby planets, ships, and basic information on the Voot itself. However the display had one planet highlighted in yellow, and a path leading to it. The icon representing Red's Voot even looked like it was on fire.

Was his sight guiding a plan of action?

Of course. The nearby planet was Junkyardia. If he allowed the cruiser to appear hit, and he was seen going down in smoke toward that planet... of course they would search for his remains, but who would find one incinerated Voot among all the wreckage all over the planet? Pur would know he'd given them the slip, but it would buy him some time to think.

His claws were slippery with the feel of blood, and he almost vomited, realizing he was still covered in the stuff. Turning the Voot to face the oncoming squad, he muttered, "Hold tight," before releasing several volleys.

Two rounds found their marks, and two patrols exploded. The others began firing on Red's Voot. He evaded their fire and ordered, "Computer, smoke from the main engine, and lots of it. Flames if you can manage."

Cover damage initiated.

Red turned back, following the path marked on the readout. "Boost speed, simulate damaged flight pattern."

Crash cover initiated.

The Voot began to shake uncontrollably, weaving badly as it spiraled toward the planet. Dantie barely managed to strap himself down as they hit the atmosphere. They were plummeting through a sort of golden haze, not the normal atmospheric burnoff, but Red didn't have time to look.

"On my mark eject," Red ordered, "Record final command as negated by malfunctioning eject function in the logs."

False trail initiated.

"What?" Dantie shouted. "Eject?"

Ejecting.

"No!" Red shouted as the cockpit opened, spewing them out into midair. Cursing, he turned on his PAK jets, slowing his fall. Dantie hurtled past him in free fall.

Of course, news informants had no need for jets in their PAKs. But Red had need of this Dantie now. He dove for the Irken, catching him by the arm. They descended slowly onto the surface of Junkyardia and stood, taking stock of their surroundings.

To the right, a plume of dark smoke rose from the Voot crash, and at their feet and all around was mountains and piles and masses of twisted metal and wrecked ships sent here to rust away. Many other plumes of smoke rose from various points around from crashfires or final fuel burnoffs. It wouldn't be easy to find their Voot.

Red grabbed Dantie under the shoulders and leaped up, jetting hard and fast. Dantie gripped Red's arms hard as they sped forward, low and close to the surface.

There was at least two hours worth of fuel in his PAK, Red estimated. One hour would be sufficient distance from the crash site to give them time to sort things out.

As they jetted on, Red's mind finally began to catch up with something. "There aren't any creatures here." He turned his head left and right. Wrecks and parts and fuel fires, but no creatures. "Why aren't there any creatures here?"

"I tried to tell you!" Dantie called. "Look!" He pointed up, and Red craned his neck.

Overhead the sky was lit an unnatural gold, as flashes of silver streaked back and forth across the sky. It was the same gold haze he'd crashed through, but now he could see. In that gold haze there were figures. He couldn't quite make them out, but they were well armored and definitely engaged in a struggle. Beyond them was a great press of the hideous, brutish creatures, writhing, snapping, gnashing their teeth, and clawing to get through. But every attack was repelled by the figures in the golden haze with a silver clash and smash of weaponry against scaly hides.

"They are protecting us!" Dantie's face was rapturous with joy. "They've been fighting for us since we left the Massive, Ayam must be close!"

Awe and despair caught up to him at the same time, and Red's jets sputtered out. He dropped Dantie just before colliding with a wreck. His head slammed against a metal door and his last thought before losing consciousness was the black-eyed Irken's words.

The evidence is all over you. He does not take murderers, Red. You are lost.