In that certainty lay my opportunity.
“The nearest planet is Qyah’an’ka,” Computer said.
Qyah’an’ka.
My homeworld.
“Take us there,” I bellowed.
Funny that my destiny should end in the same place it had begun all those years ago.
Ava
The ship shuddered and I slammed into the wall.
It was only thanks to Kayal’s bracing arm I didn’t get seriously hurt.
Just when I thought things were supposed to be getting better, I found myself on an alien ship zipping through space at an unimaginable speed, now under attack.
Would this day ever come to an end?
The elevator door opened onto a broad deck with a single chair in the center and a handful of consoles around the outer edges.
I recognized it immediately.
It looked very much like the deck of the Starship Enterprise from the TV shows.
If I were a Treky, this would be my greatest dream coming true.
But this wasn’t my dream.
This was my nightmare.
“Computer,” Kayal said as he crossed to the middle chair.
He fell into it and spun toward the broad window at the front.
His hands and fingers typed three inches above his armrest and it was only as I changed perspective that I noticed he was accessing the ship’s control systems using holographic projections.
He issued Computer a single stream of rapid-fire commands:
“Divert all power to forward thrusters.”
“Load torpedoes.”
“Open fire when ready.”
I’d never seen a human—or at least a biological species—and a computer merge so effectively into a single unit.
The ship shuddered again and almost knocked me off my feet.
I stumbled into the nearest console and took a seat.
A belt lashed me to the chair, whirred, and turned me toward the console.
Lights blinked and flashed.
Mostly red.
If I pressed any of the buttons, destruction would rain down on us immediately.
I sat on my hands—literally—and watched as Kayal commanded the ship by himself.
In the huge front monitor, an alien planet swelled into view.
The colors were familiar.
Greens and navy blues interspersed with wisps of white.
But that was where the familiarity ended.
The landmasses spread across the surface were unrecognizable to me.
So was the strange purple cloud sat perched over the planet, hovering like mist over a chilly winter morning.
Every so often, yellow light exploded from inside, zipping across its surface and turning the cloud lighter by several hues.
I had only ever seen something like that on the Weather Channel, and that was during intense storms ravaging the east coast.
It had the appearance of a storm.
But it was happening in space.
How could that be?
Storms happened on the surface of planets, not in space.
Didn’t they?
The ship shook again and a loud screech issued from somewhere in the deep.
“Power at fifteen percent,” Computer said.
Kayal growled and the ship shuddered once more.
“Power at fourteen percent.”
Now, I wasn’t a trained engineer but that sure didn’t sound good to me.
We shuttled toward the planet’s surface but I sensed we wouldn’t make it.
I gibbered.
I didn’t want to be captured by the M’rora and forced to marry someone I hardly knew.
It was even worse it would be to an alien!
My instincts scrambled for an idea of how we might escape this situation.
Something Kayal hadn’t thought of.
We couldn’t make it to the planet, not if we wanted to make it to its surface.
We couldn’t disappear at warp speed.
“The storm,” I muttered.
It came out softly, gentle and probing as if I needed to give voice to it before it became a tenable idea.
“The storm!” I said, more confidently this time.
Kayal didn’t turn to look at me and kept his attention focused on maintaining Computer’s systems.
“What?”
“We have to head for the storm!”
Kayal’s hand hesitated just an instant, and the ship shook violently, almost knocking me from the chair.
“The storm’s dangerous,” Kayal said calmly. “We’ll never survive it.”
“How do you know that? Have you ever entered one before?”
“No. No one has. Everyone avoids it. Nothing good ever happens when you head into the eye of a storm.”
There was some truth in that, I thought.
But when you had no other choice, when the decision came down to living as a slave or dying, what was the difference?
“Power at eleven percent.”
Kayal looked over at me and shook his head.
“We’re not going to make it to the planet.”
That had been the obvious outcome for the past ten minutes, and he only just realized it?
No, I thought. He only just accepted it.
“At least we have a chance in the storm,” I said softly. “Maybe we can even escape him in there. And maybe, if we’re really lucky, he might not follow us inside.”
I left the critical part unspoken:
“He’s not desperate like us.”
He glanced at me and I saw real dread on his face.
Was there more to this storm that I didn’t know?
If there was, I was certain I didn’t want to hear it.
Sometimes having a lack of information made difficult decisions easier.
“Do it,” I said. “Otherwise, he’s going to take me. And he will finish what he started with you on Earth.”
He would kill Kayal.
Although I hardly knew him, I felt a deep twisting sensation in the pit of my stomach at the thought of that.
I didn’t want him to be hurt.
It was a powerful sensation and overwhelmed any I had at the thought of losing my own life.
In his eyes, I saw the same emotion reflected back at me.
Pure and utter fear and concern.
“Very well,” he said.
His fingers danced hypnotically on the holo controls.
The ship lurched sharply, taking us on a direct trajectory for the storm.
The torpedoes, lasers, and whatever weapons the M’rora had at his disposal rained down on us with even greater fervor.
A hint of his desperation.
“Power at ten percent,” Computer warned.
We reached single digits when the solar storm reared up huge and wide in the front screen.
The sharp cracks of yellow lightning stirred the storm clouds.
It was much larger than I thought and far more active.
From a distance, it had the appearance of a fluffy ball of candy floss.
Up close, it spun powerfully.
Suddenly, my idea didn’t seem so hot.
“Power at five percent,” Computer said.
The ship shivered the same way my body was.
“Four percent.”
The M’rora was desperate all right.
As desperate to capture us
