Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
I shared my cleaned-up phrase without curses, and he smiled.
"I wish to arrive at the spire early." He strode over to the ship, entered, and activated the radio. Soon, mercs he had hired earlier from the former trial would come and protect our friends.
I turned to find Karel and explained the situation while he stood under the shade of a tall, thin sandstone arch. His ears twitched, taking in every word.
When I finished, he met my gaze with quiet confidence.
"We are not weak, Thomas," he said gently.
"We learned from our Volardi brothers and you.
If Tydalos or anyone comes, we shall be ready.
" He gestured to a few tall female Sandari with lean, agile muscles and throwing knives at their belt.
The same kind that had penetrated Parker's original camera-drone.
I reached out and squeezed his furry shoulder in thanks before returning to the ship. As we boarded, my gaze fell on the surfboard propped against the cargo hold wall. Useless out here for sure. It had been symbolic, a relic of an old life along with the guitar, resting next to it.
I gave up that life. Now I have something better: my baby, a good man, and the father I finally know.
I adjusted my son as he stirred, his small fingers clutching my shirt. Solis handed me a DuraCloth handkerchief as I sneezed.
"We're really bringing a baby into a battle zone," I muttered. It was practical in case we had to run. Impossible, yet somehow still something to consider.
Axios sat nearby. "No. It is a formal challenge site."
Solis' voice softened with warmth. "Volardi children learn perseverance early."
I smiled and turned to Zephyron. "And that's why you watch Fozzie Bear."
He paused, his voice rising. "They are excellent lessons in facing an adversary."
The ship powered up and zipped over canyons and mountains. Soon we landed to pick up Parker. He stood at the edge of a colorful Sandari marketplace, shooting B-roll footage. As we got closer, I noticed his swollen, slightly red left eye.
He climbed aboard, and I asked, "What happened?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ran into Brody a couple of hours back," he muttered. "We exchanged words. He'll be at the Trial doing his henchman thing." He pointed at my face. "What's with you?"
I turned to Solis, using her reflective surface as a mirror. Puffy eyes and a red nose, like I was fighting a cold.
"Allergies, maybe," I said, sniffing. "Could be the Heat Thistle pollen, or just post-baby exhaustion. New parent life." He nodded, but his look lingered.
The craft hummed, lifting us skyward. Barring short stops, every trip in this ship meant change, be it Sudo or the Sandari village, and that unsettled me.
Even Solis refrained from speaking. The silence stretched over minutes as we zipped over mountains of sand and rock.
We flew, and the air felt off. Too still and quiet.
The ship's hum wasn't the same. It held to a single note, even as Zephyron slowed and sped up around spires and canyon walls.
Like it was trying to stay in tune with itself.
Then the pitch crept higher, tightening like a string wound too far. "Hey, is everything—"
Then it happened. Crystal and metal around us shuddered violently. Warning lights flared on the console, alarms blaring. A deep groan vibrated through the hull as the vessel lurched sideways. I clutched our baby tight, careful not to harm him.
"Numerous mechanical failures detected," Axios announced calmly, even as his frame shifted, reshaping himself to form a protective, flexible barrier around little Elai.
Solis morphed to provide spider-web netting as additional seatbelts. "Brace yourselves! Impact imminent!"
The ship pitched forward and down. Zephyron's hand shot out, gripping the pilot's controls with one hand while holding out his other to shield me. His eyes glinted with raw determination as he fought to steady our spiraling fall.
"I have you," he growled, his voice steady even as sparks burst from the control panel.
He didn't falter. Muscles held taut as he steered with expert precision, guiding us through the chaotic storm of failing systems. The ship jolted again, cargo crates toppling as a scraping sound filled the air, and crystal and metal strained to hold together.
Zephyron pulled the ship into a controlled descent, every muscle in his arms taut with effort.
The engines coughed and sputtered, fighting against gravity, but Zephyron's skill never wavered.
He brought us down gently, or as much as you can in a crash.
Monitors showed an outside flat, rocky expanse with chunks of the ship flying off.
We skidded for a few hundred feet before grinding to a shaky halt.
Silence followed, broken only by the hissing from some unknown system.
Axios formed an opening around my baby, who let out a soft, startled cry before he rested in my arms again.
Zephyron exhaled slowly, his eyes briefly closing in relief. "Status report!"
Both Sims immediately shifted back into humanoid forms, their internal sensors humming to life as they scanned with soft laser light.
"The child is unharmed," Solis scanned Elai with a soothing, glowing hand. "Vitals are stable, but he needs changing."
Axios turned his head sharply. "Sentinel Zephyron, you have minor injuries—muscle strain and contusions.
Nothing critical." He faced me. "Elevated mucus levels, skin irritation, and your nose and lips are fourteen percent larger than normal.
" He glanced at Parker, who sat slumped against a bulkhead, clutching his ribs.
"Possible rib fracture. Diagnostics pending. " A now red, glowing hand confirmed it.
"Great," Parker muttered, wheezing slightly. "That's what I get for pursuing journalism instead of a safe script-writing job."
My dad rubbed a sore spot on his shoulder but waved my DuraMetal friends away. "I'm okay. Been through worse," he said. "What about our ride?"
Axios and Solis approached the main control console, their hands morphing into pointed data connectors that slid into crystal ports on each side. Nobody spoke, as interfaces and their bodies lit up with glowing, moving light.
"The damage is extensive but repairable," Axios said. "We can fabricate the parts."
"There is an anomaly detected in the ship's central network," Solis said, her tone more cautious than usual. "Initiating Level Two diagnostic—"
Something about the way her voice hitched made me glance up.
Then she flinched. A jolt of electricity arced up her frame, her body convulsing as lights flared across her chest. Axios froze beside her, his expression locked in sudden alarm.
An electrical spark leaped between them, arcing up and down like a Tesla coil.
I lurched forward, panic seizing my chest. "They're going to fry!
Dad!" I shouted and handed our baby to Zephyron.
"Grab my surfboard. Hurry!" Dad slid the board over without hesitation.
A gift from Alen to someone who loved the Pacific Ocean, and now it was leverage.
I wedged it between them and the control panel, muscles burning as I shoved hard. Please don't be conductive.
The surge flared, then died.
Solis and Axios dropped, their eyes dimming as smoke curled up from their frames. "Are they...?" I whispered while coughing.
Before anyone could answer, Parker stumbled to the viewport, holding his side, and froze. "Uh... guys? You want to see this. Like, now-now."
I joined him at the window and looked up. My blood instantly ran cold.
Streaks lit up the sky. Jagged trails tore through the atmosphere with shimmering ice-blue veins. Hundreds of them, and all sizes, instead of the tiny one I'd seen months back. My implant calculated trajectories that would send them wide and also right over us.
Zephyron and I shared a long stare. The man, who didn't show fear, paled. It was the same look someone on Earth would give to approaching nukes.
"What are they?" Dad asked, his voice tense.
"Ice asteroids," I said, swallowing hard. "This area, if not the entire planet, is about to be crawling with newly awakened and hungry Zerlites."
***