I see an empty hallway. I remember how to breathe.
I take a moment to try to get a feel for the ship’s layout. After a few seconds, I recognize the model. It’s a pretty popular ship, about ten years old. As I try to wrestle up what details I can remember about it, I step out into the hall and catch my reflection in a mirror.
A tiny bit of hair is singed off near the back of my neck. It’s barely noticeable, but looking at it makes me sad in a way that’s completely outside being kidnapped by bounty hunters and trapped on their ship. I push the feeling down into the “deal with it later” spot of my head that is slowly growing past its capacity.
I start moving down the hall. I’ll find a supply closet. I can hide there and, once they’ve given up and are certain I’ve escaped, I’ll pilot the ship back to somewhere else—anywhere else—and everything will be amazing.
I turn the corner and run into one of the bounty hunters exiting a room. My vision is immediately filled by a plasma gun aimed at my face. Once an Hour has turned against you, it is hard to change its mind.[1]
“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” they say. It’s the bounty hunter who shot me. Their voice is soft and quiet. Now that I’m closer, I can see an unflinching hardness in their dark brown eyes. But there’re also slight laugh lines etched along their edges. I wonder hazily what beloved thing makes them smile. “They said they’d prefer you alive but dead is okay too.”
“Noted,” I say, raising my hands.
The bounty hunter nods, happy with my compliance. “How’d you get out anyways?”
“Oh this and that,” I say. “You pick up things travelling about.”
“Hmm,” they say.
“Now what?”
“Well—” the bounty hunter starts. And then there’s a terrible crash.
The ship careens sideways, shaking. Alarms start going off. We’ve both fallen to the floor.
I scramble for the gun, but the bounty hunter is faster. “Nah ah,” they say.
“I think your engine’s been hit. Your systems will start shutting down soon. I could help,” I offer, “and then maybe in exchange for daringly saving you from this attack you let me go?”
“Not a chance,” they say and motion me into the room they came out of. “Stay here and don’t cause trouble. And if you’re not here when I get back, I’ll kill you.” They lock the door and leave.
The ship shakes again.
My new prison is much nicer than the refurbished stasis pod. It’s a small bedroom with two cots, one hanging above the other, a desk, and a chair. I immediately move to a wall and start hitting buttons, causing drawers to slide out from its smooth surface.
I fight my growing distress and try to force myself to check through the drawers carefully. It ends up being a less thorough exploration than I would like, but I soon find enough items to fashion what I need.
I grab my bundle of bits and move back to the door. The first bit wedges open a panel and the next few help me cut a couple wires. I’m about to strip the wires when a voice comes over the ship’s internal com system.
“THIS IS AN ALERT. REPEAT: THIS IS AN ALERT. THE ENGINES HAVE FAILED. THIS VESSEL IS ON A COLLISION PATH AND WILL BE UNSUITABLE FOR CREW IN… TWENTY MINUTES. PLEASE EVACUATE THE VESSEL. THIS IS AN ALERT. REPEAT: THIS IS…”
I can hear doors sliding open in the hallway as the emergency protocols kick-in, but the ones in front of me remain shut. I blink at them for a moment before realizing that I’ve just cut the wires connecting the emergency systems to the door. I swear and try to work faster while focusing on keeping my hands steady.
“This Hour will pass. This Hour will pass.” I murmur it quietly, almost unconsciously.
A small part of me remembers another version of myself, not so many years ago, whose hands wouldn’t be shaking so much right now, who wouldn’t be choking so hard on their dread.
After what feels like an eternity, but by the clock in the room could only have been a few minutes, I get the door open. Rushing into the hall, I start running towards the helm. I know this ship’s layout, I remind myself. I know where the escape pods are kept. In this commotion, it’s unlikely anyone would notice a launch and recall the pod.
I skid a bit at the end of the hall, barely avoiding falling, as I make a sharp right turn. It’s for the best though, since I just miss taking a plasma blast to the head. With a quick glance, I take in one of the bounty hunters that kidnapped me squaring off against someone I haven’t seen before.
I try to freeze but given my current state of slide/run, I end up smashing into a wall. Luckily, the sound of plasma blasts covers the thud of my impact and my quiet profanities.
I backup and start taking the long way around. I wonder if another group of bounty hunters is attacking the group that kidnapped me to try to steal me away or if this is something unrelated.
“…WILL BE UNSUITABLE FOR CREW IN… FIFTEEN MINUTES. PLEASE EVACUATE…”
The sound of plasma blasts fades. All I can hear is the thump of my heart in my ears and the thud of my footfalls. I turn the last corner, hit a button to open the escape pod room’s door, and throw up.
[1] A Chronotheist expression meaning that once you start being unlucky, it is hard to stop finding bad luck. However, it also carries the reminder that this hour will pass and you’ll have a chance to try to win the favour of the next Hour, hopefully changing your luck.
Also, Chronotheist gods are referred to using another Tirkadaz pronoun that doesn’t exist in English. It’s one exclusively used for gods and other holy or powerful beings, and its use indicates great respect. I’m translating it as it/its.
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