as blaster fire starts to fill the air. Sparks rain down around me, burning my skin as the terminal is destroyed. I curse under my breath—hopefully these controls shorting out don’t overload the wires attached to the ship.
I’m too much of a target where I am. The quickest way to stay alive would be to try and cross the room and head back inside the base. At least there I’d have plenty of options for cover. But I have to assume that the Mogs are already starting to filter down through the hallways and stairwells of the facility, and without any idea of how many alien bastards have just landed on the ground level, the base could quickly turn into a death trap. Somewhere I could get boxed in too easily.
Besides, now that I’ve found this ship, I don’t intend to let it out of my sight.
So I reach into my backpack and pull out one of the many toys I’ve acquired and learned to use since the last time I came face-to-face with a Mogadorian: a powerful, compact submachine gun. Earth weapons might be crude and inefficient, but practicing out inthe barns and woods around my many safe houses, I’ve witnessed exactly how devastating they can be.
If I can make it inside the ship and power it up, I may be able to get out of here alive. If not . . . Well, that’s not really an option. I think of Janus and Zophie, and how when I first arrived on this planet I thought for sure that the three of us would one day be riding in this ship together. Now the best I can do is reclaim it for them. For Lorien.
I brace myself as much as I can against the floor, peek over the top of the sparking computer terminal and fire away. A few of the Mogadorians who are descending a zigzag metal staircase from the surface are ripped apart, turning into wafts of dust that filter down into the hangar. The others take quick cover, and I use this moment of surprise to make a break for it, tossing my bag ahead of me and basically throwing myself under the ship in the center of the room, using it for cover. Blaster fire blackens the cement floor, barely missing me. But I make it, somehow.
I’m able to access a manual override switch to the boarding hatch. A metal ramp rolls out from the back of the craft. One of the Mogs from above jumps down, sliding over the ship and onto the ground. There’s a snap when he lands, and when he stands, one of his arms hangs limply at his side. That doesn’t stop him from staggering forward, firing at me. Several of hisfellow troops follow his lead, and I barely manage to climb onto the ramp, firing blindly behind me the entire time. I run, trying to avoid their blasters, but a few shots hit my backpack. I’ve reinforced the thing with Kevlar, mostly to protect my laptop and gadgets inside, but it stops the shots from burning through my body. Still, the force sends me sprawling onto the ramp. I roll over and return fire, scooting as fast as I can towards a touch-screen panel on the wall just inside the ship. I dust one of the Mogs following me as I manage to tap on the screen and get the ramp to start closing in just a couple of seconds—the few years of training I had at the Lorien Defense Academy all coming back to me in a rush.
The other Mog on the ramp stumbles forward as it folds up. He gets thrown past me, deeper into the ship. The interior of the vessel can be programmed with all sorts of holographic partitions and “walls,” but right now it’s just one big, empty room. There’s no place for him to hide, and he’s a pile of ash before he ever manages to pick himself up off the ground.
I run to the front cabin. My hands fly over buttons and screens. In front of me, a Mog has climbed onto the nose of the ship and is hammering away at the tinted cockpit window with the butt of his blaster. He’ll have a hell of a time trying to break through the reinforced glass—I try not to pay any attention to him.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I chant to myself as the instruments start to flicker, going
I’m too much of a target where I am. The quickest way to stay alive would be to try and cross the room and head back inside the base. At least there I’d have plenty of options for cover. But I have to assume that the Mogs are already starting to filter down through the hallways and stairwells of the facility, and without any idea of how many alien bastards have just landed on the ground level, the base could quickly turn into a death trap. Somewhere I could get boxed in too easily.
Besides, now that I’ve found this ship, I don’t intend to let it out of my sight.
So I reach into my backpack and pull out one of the many toys I’ve acquired and learned to use since the last time I came face-to-face with a Mogadorian: a powerful, compact submachine gun. Earth weapons might be crude and inefficient, but practicing out inthe barns and woods around my many safe houses, I’ve witnessed exactly how devastating they can be.
If I can make it inside the ship and power it up, I may be able to get out of here alive. If not . . . Well, that’s not really an option. I think of Janus and Zophie, and how when I first arrived on this planet I thought for sure that the three of us would one day be riding in this ship together. Now the best I can do is reclaim it for them. For Lorien.
I brace myself as much as I can against the floor, peek over the top of the sparking computer terminal and fire away. A few of the Mogadorians who are descending a zigzag metal staircase from the surface are ripped apart, turning into wafts of dust that filter down into the hangar. The others take quick cover, and I use this moment of surprise to make a break for it, tossing my bag ahead of me and basically throwing myself under the ship in the center of the room, using it for cover. Blaster fire blackens the cement floor, barely missing me. But I make it, somehow.
I’m able to access a manual override switch to the boarding hatch. A metal ramp rolls out from the back of the craft. One of the Mogs from above jumps down, sliding over the ship and onto the ground. There’s a snap when he lands, and when he stands, one of his arms hangs limply at his side. That doesn’t stop him from staggering forward, firing at me. Several of hisfellow troops follow his lead, and I barely manage to climb onto the ramp, firing blindly behind me the entire time. I run, trying to avoid their blasters, but a few shots hit my backpack. I’ve reinforced the thing with Kevlar, mostly to protect my laptop and gadgets inside, but it stops the shots from burning through my body. Still, the force sends me sprawling onto the ramp. I roll over and return fire, scooting as fast as I can towards a touch-screen panel on the wall just inside the ship. I dust one of the Mogs following me as I manage to tap on the screen and get the ramp to start closing in just a couple of seconds—the few years of training I had at the Lorien Defense Academy all coming back to me in a rush.
The other Mog on the ramp stumbles forward as it folds up. He gets thrown past me, deeper into the ship. The interior of the vessel can be programmed with all sorts of holographic partitions and “walls,” but right now it’s just one big, empty room. There’s no place for him to hide, and he’s a pile of ash before he ever manages to pick himself up off the ground.
I run to the front cabin. My hands fly over buttons and screens. In front of me, a Mog has climbed onto the nose of the ship and is hammering away at the tinted cockpit window with the butt of his blaster. He’ll have a hell of a time trying to break through the reinforced glass—I try not to pay any attention to him.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I chant to myself as the instruments start to flicker, going
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