Conflagration

Ursa Royal Space Dock

Galaxy: Darklands (dwarf galaxy)

Cluster: Backwater

Planet: Promisedland

About seven hours after the independent corvette, Ready Sophia, met her fiery demise in a different part of the Backwater Cluster, the sleepy system of Promisedland experienced a strange event: an unscheduled arrival. For a remote outpost like Promisedland, Space Traffic Control saw few arrivals and even fewer unscheduled ones.

The interloping spacecraft just dropped out of transtach and onto STC's scanner displays with no transponder code and no flight plan. Space Traffic Controller Alexis Nevin, a native of Promisedland, knew it was likely just smugglers wanting to land planetside. Alexis didn't care if these guys were up to shady stuff, just as long as they didn't do anything stupid in his sector or annoy him in some way. He was a member of the Aviators' Guild and he wasn't going to rat out fellow guild members if he didn't have to.

He keyed his mic and addressed the interloper. "Unknown spacecraft. Promisedland Approach. State intentions."

The voice that came back on the frequency was hoarse, croaky, like that of an old woman. He noticed that she spoke with no accent, so she must be a local. What did surprise him was what the old woman said. "Promisedland Approach. Noémie Seven-Eight-Eight-November-Charlie. Declaring a radiation emergency. Need immediate vectors to Ursa Royal space dock."

Alexis keyed his mic again. "Um...okay...understood," he sent the vector directly to the Noémie plane's nav computer. "When able say number of souls aboard."

The old woman's voice came back on the frequency as the plane began following the vector to the Ursa Royal space dock. "Two living."

Living? That's spooky. "Uh, Seven-Eight-Eight-November-Charlie, please clarify: did you say you had two living?"

"Affirmative."

"So, are you saying you've had fatalities?"

"Affirmative." It was clear to Alexis that the old woman was having difficulty speaking. Was she really even old? Could that just be what somebody sounds like when they've been exposed to high radiation? Alexis didn't know.

"Seven-Eight-Eight-November-Charlie, be advised: With onboard fatalities, we're gonna have to alert law enforcement." This was meant as a hint that this smuggler might want to think about going ahead and dropping any illegal cargo she might be hauling.

"Ro⁠—" the pilot started to say but was interrupted by a severe coughing fit. She stopped transmitting and came back on the frequency several seconds later. "Roger that. Promisedland Approach, please alert⁠—" the pilot started coughing again and paused her transmission. "Please alert Haru Yamashita on Gonaways⁠—" Another coughing fit.

Did she say Haru Yamashita? Christ, what is this old lady involved in?

"—⁠on Gonaways. He's the head of the Guild. Tell him we brought Captain Elof back."

"Seven-Eight-Eight-November-Charlie, say again?"

"We brought him back. Captain Elof. Tell Yamashita we didn't leave him."

* * *

After docking the hardpointer at the Ursa Royal space dock, Erin and Lyssa both had to be carried out of the plane on stretchers by nurses wearing full radiation suits. The hardpointer's shields had protected them from around 99% of the star's radiation, but even the 1% that got through was an extreme exposure. The EVA suits Lyssa had insisted they wear in the cockpit had also helped a little. Even still, during the seven hours they'd been forced to fly at transtach in order to reach Promisedland, the radiation poisoning had begun working its toll on them.