Trial 017 - 2019 Wattys Sci-Fi Winner

Chapter 20 - Amala

"Are you sure?" Amala asked, leaning forward.

"Yes, I'm sure," Nicholas replied.

"Check it again."

Nicholas obediently turned back to the console, putting on the headset again. The size had been adjusted all the way to the smallest, just so it could fit on his head; Krakoshan heads were generally wider. After listening for only a few seconds, he tore the headset off, nodding.

"I'm sure," he repeated.

Amala exhaled slowly, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. They had been flying their stolen skyhopper for a little more than a day now, resting every once in a while. Any longer, and their ship would run out of fuel. So far, they had managed to avoid dogfights with other patrols running around the sky but apart from the other ships, there appeared to be no signs of life anywhere else, confounding Amala. How was it that she managed to find more fellow captives picking her way through the jungle than soaring high up in the skies?

Her crew had also grown tired of staying cooped up in the ship. The many hours of flying meant they had been forced to endure each other's company in the small ship for far too long, which felt much smaller without any rooms for privacy. They had sighted multiple bases on the ground, indicating that this was a widespread operation, but Amala hadn't been able to bring herself to attack a single one. Each time, there was always an excuse: too many men, no ships, too much weaponry. Eventually, either their fuel or supplies would run out, and they were already almost out of the army rations they'd discovered in the emergency kits in the cockpit.

Then, this had happened. Someone had broadcasted an emergency squawk code from one of the bases. Normally, it wouldn't have merited a look, but finding a Kingsfield distress call on a Krakoshan-controlled planet could very well have meant that a fellow Kinetic had attempted a cry for help. While there was always the possibility of a trap, Amala had many doubts of that. For one, it was highly unlikely that the Krakoshans would have faked a distress signal on the radio, since the Kinetics running loose in the wilderness lacked radios to pick up the signal in the first place.

At this time, Amala was standing in the cockpit, directly behind their Krakoshan captive. The Krakoshan had been rather obedient the last two days, doing everything exactly as she told him to the letter. He hardly raised dissent now and she was glad for his cooperation. The injury he'd sustained in his foot had been treated using supplies from a medical kit stored onboard the skyhopper, although Amala had been loathe to use those supplies on him. Still, it had been necessary, considering how badly they needed the pilot.

From the conversations she'd had with him, she'd gathered some small amounts of information. Rhiark, as he was called, had explained to her the situation as far as he was aware. Apparently, there had been a breach in one of their bases several days ago, resulting in a cascade of catastrophes that had resulted in the accidental release of roughly a hundred Kinetics. The Krakoshans seemed worked up, constantly ferrying troops in and out in an attempt to recapture all the escapees, but according to Rhiark, the situation was only growing worse by the day. Amala smiled. Case in point, she thought.

The only other person in the cockpit was Nicholas. He sat in the copilot's seat, a job he'd been assigned to after Amala had discovered that he had some knowledge of flight mechanics. He monitored the radar and radio, as well as assisted in navigation.

"Take us down," she decided. "Land us in the hangar."

Rhiark nodded, steadily guiding the ship forward. Below them, a base seemed to break through the red foliage of the jungle, a fortified space against the wilderness around it. However, it was immediately obvious at first glance that there was something wrong with the base. In several areas, green Krakoshan masses swarmed around several patches in the perimeter fence, mending gaps in their defense. There had once been turrets on the corners surrounding the compound, but those looked shredded, as if destroyed in the maws of a large creature. Ground crews scurried everywhere, carrying out repairs and otherwise struggling to maintain the base.