Fugitive From Asteron by Gen LaGreca

back door and into the car. From
among a few implements strapped down in the car, I grabbed a wrench to use as a
weapon. Then I stayed clear of the windows and waited. Finally, the stench of
alcohol floated over me from an open window, marking the commanders’ return to
the driver’s cab in the front.
    All I had to do now was protect
myself from injury as the commander made the frog rise from the ground, then
hit it again with a thump, rise again, and then swerve dangerously. We finally
descended from this brief but treacherous journey, my head banging on the floor
of the car during the commander’s wobbly landing. The two officers dismounted
from the cab and walked away. A glance out the window showed that I was inside
the gate, past security, and near Feran’s ship. I had to act quickly before the
commander made another visit to the tree.
    I slid out the back door with the
wrench hidden up my shirt sleeve. I saw the engineering wonder that was Feran’s
spacecraft. Its smooth, black body shined in the moonlight. Its nose curved
down and tapered to a point. Its sleek wings drew back in sharp lines that
fanned out into sweeping curves. Its tail rose up and arched back. The vessel look
like a bird of prey poised to face a strong head wind.
    Keeping my head low and the hidden
wrench close to my body, I walked toward Feran’s craft. In preparation for his
arrival, the ship’s door was ajar and a stairway with a platform was positioned
outside of it. Just as I was about to jump up the steps, an officer patrolling
Feran’s ship blocked me. I knew him.
    “Arial!”
    I stopped.
    “What are you doing here? You have
no orders to work tonight.”
    “I respectfully suggest, captain,
that I do have such orders.”
    The guard’s face reddened, because
we were not allowed to contradict a superior. “We will see about that!” He
reached for his pocket device to check the schedule.
    I startled him with a move
unthinkable by anyone planning to live past the hour. I slid the wrench out of
my sleeve, and with one decisive swing I pounded his skull. His eyes closed and
his body fell to the ground. In two leaps I ascended the six steps to the door
of the spacecraft. Within a moment, I was inside!
    To the back of the metal entryway
were the living quarters and cargo bay. To the front, beyond an open sliding
door, was the moonlit sparkle of instruments that formed the flight deck. I
would go to the deck and watch the alien perform the home run, then wait for
the guards to shoot me. That was the plan.
    But once inside the shining
electronic world that had always held me spellbound, a different vision
suddenly pulled my thoughts from the craft, and from the planet itself,
carrying me into the vast, mysterious sky. A composed figure on a scaffold
looked at me with hope. A soft voice whispered about a place with flowers. A
sweet presence I could not resist dissolved my bitter despair.
    Suddenly I realized what I had
subconsciously wanted to do all along—what I had dreamed of doing every time I
had ever been in this spaceship. I would not sit and wait to die. I
would start the engines and blast my way out!

Chapter 6
     
    Escaping air hissed as I clamped the hatch shut like a tomb.
I rushed to the front of the plane, the clanging of my steps amplified in the
metallic passageway. Then I stood in awe before the dense electronic network of
the flight deck.
    A dizzying pattern of instruments
encircled me, framing the windows, paneling the walls, and arching overhead. A
rush of blood heated my face as I slid into the commander’s seat and felt my
fingers on the controls. I forgot about engaging the auxiliary computer and
watching the video of Alexander. Instead I called to mind the engineer’s access
codes for the main computer, which I had gone to great lengths to capture on
past occasions when I had serviced the craft. Now I entered those codes in the
system, compressing my life into one final, desperate act.
    Suddenly the spaceship pulsed