Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Nothing will stop me from killing them.
“Savage, you are under arrest for the murder of the inhabitants of Colony Alpha. Come along peacefully and nobody need be hurt.”
Until they hang me.
The sheer nerve of these human creatures is astounding. They believe they can make the entirety of the inhabitable universe in their image, and so far it seems as though they are not wrong.
They have their weapons trained on me, threatening me with death. They are wanting me to submit to them because they want to make a scene of this. It is not enough to kill me. I must be seen to be killed. Their vengeance will not be done until it is seen to be done.
That hesitation, that arrogant assumption that time is on their side is their undoing.
In direct disobedience of my last order to her, Tarni’s ship is not disappearing into the distance. Instead, it returns in a violent, swooping curve, passing low overhead like a massive bird of prey.
She opens fire on the soldiers, laser bolts hurtling down from the sky, obliterating practically everything in their path. Our crops, our farm, our peace is ripped up under her fury.
I do not know if it is skill or luck that leaves me unscathed while obliterating everybody else, but I am grateful for it. Tarni takes another loop around, putting the ship into an inverted 360 roll to come back to me, pulling the thing to a hover-halt less than a foot off the ground.
“Get in,” she says, her voice broadcasting from the helm. I hear Nemo’s giggle as well. She pops the rear door. “We need to go.”
I do not need any further invitation. As I board the ship, I realize we are on the run again. Another home has been taken from me.
I make my way to the helm, where Tarni is already inputting coordinates for our escape path.
“We need allies,” Tarni says, frowning in concentration. “That’s our problem. We need to go somewhere the Colony dares not go. Distance is not enough. We need to be somewhere they cannot or will not go.”
We’ve talked about this before, but there are no good options for such a plan. My people never escaped the planet of their birth, and so there are no natural allies for me. And Tarni is human, so all her natural allies are against her.
“I think we need to become outlaws,” she says. “I think we need to head deep into illicit space. We tried a peaceful life. It didn’t work. I don’t want to have to shoot my own damn house into oblivion every time the Colony shows up. It’s not good for Nemo.”
None of this is good for Nemo. Us becoming ruthless outlaws is not such a great leap. We are essentially already ruthless outlaws. But Nemo is not. He’s innocent, and he deserves to have what I have never been able to give any child, or wife, for that matter: safety.
“I’m heading for contested territory. We won’t stop there. We’re not going to stop until we get to outright lawless territory. Arm yourself, Kail.”
She gives orders as naturally as she ignores them, but unlike Tarni, I listen.
At that moment, the baby lets out a cry we both know very well, accompanied by a pungent smell. Tarni barely glances at me as she issues another order.
“Change Nemo, please.”
She will not take her hands off the controls. I see a grim determination on her face. She is as angry as I have ever seen her be. A taste of peace torn away along with this being the very first time we have encountered Colony forces with Nemo depending on us has made her fierce indeed.
I do not want to get attached, though deep down I know that has already happened. Nemo does not feel like my children did. He is not green. He does not have sharp little teeth protruding from his lower lip. His eyes do not burn with my golden fire. And yet I would die for him.
And that means I will change him too.
Tarni
We zip through contested space without issue. The advantage of space is that it is vast, and though it might be possible to track people down given enough time, finding them at any given point in space while they are running is practically impossible.
I consider the possibility of simply becoming nomadic, but even nomads adopt routes, and a route is too close to being a routine, and a routine can be figured out and intercepted. We would have to move according to a random generator…
“Nemo is asleep,” Kail says. He then says something else, something I don’t hear, or rather, am not interested in hearing.
“Tarni,” he says.
“Hmm?”
“You need to rest.”
“No. I’m fine. You get some sleep.”
“I am not asking, Tarni. The ship is on autopilot. You need to sleep. You haven’t rested in over twenty-four hours.”