365 Days (Part 1) | ✓

Day 7. The Rocket-Ship

7. The Rocket-ship: Write about a rocket-ship on it's way to the moon or a distant galaxy far, far, away.

A/N: I'm not proud of this. It's not my best. I would rather you skip it actually. Just warning you...

"Landing...one...two..."

The intercom led a buzzed note to the captain's voice, as he broadcasted it over the ship. Men barely took notice. It was just another day on the Galaga. They found nothing to worry about in the landing; after all, hadn't their pilot managed to smoothly touched ground hundreds of times before? Nothing new. Nothing worrisome.

In the rec room was a miniature, spontaneous party. Those above the Galaga were supposed to be ensconced within their quarters and firmly buckled into their seats. Of course, no one observed this rule. Why bother for safety when you never had reason to need it before, and when there was rare Tellurian wine being freely and generously dished out?

The Galaga was derisively called a glorified cargo ship. She didn't concern herself with transporting supplies, but with the safe carriage of valuables. In her long and illustrious career she has escorted dimplomats, carried treaties, and stowed countless expensive articles winthin her hold. Space was a dangerous place, and the Galaga specialized in safety. Her crew members were all highly trained guards, of the most advanced caliber, and exhibiting extraordinary skills. Her crew members were all clustered around a holographic creature fight while in various stages of inebriation.

Except for the pilots, who were wishing they could join the celebration and wondering why in space they chose aviation as their career. The captain, an older, perpetually serious man called Ferra, also abstained. His second-in-command, a scarred young fellow called Jehu, lingered by the cockpit to make sure the pilots didn't abandon the controls to join the party.

Jehu was a fierce-looking man, with a scar running diagonally from his temple to his jaw. He refused to tell its origins, but it had lost him his eye. In its place was a metal one, which whirred around sinisterly. He could see better out of his implanted eye, and often turned his head to see better with it.

Jehu peeked inside the cockpit, where one of the pilots was talking in a undertone: "--can't barely have fun, and we work the hardest--"

Jehu cleared his throat. The pilot stopped, threw Jehu a disgruntled look, and turned his attention steadfastly to the controls. His co-pilot stared more openly at Jehu.

"We're on schedule?" Jehu checked.

"Yes, sir," the co-pilot affirmed, in an impassive voice. Jehu's gruff personality didn't make him popular.

Through the thick glass at the head of the Galaga, where the pilots navigated, Jehu could see the dusty planet of Telluria approaching. It was a mixture of crummy sand hovels and gorgeous palaces. Jehu never understood why the rich people were allowed to tyrannise the poor people on Telluria.

As he watched the landscape approach from his metal eye, he saw a gray dot -- an aerocraft -- issuing from a hanger. Several followed. They sped toward the Galaga, their streamlined design making them optimal for high speed. Jehu watched them for a minute, the saw them form an offensive formation.

"Throw the shields up," Jehu commanded.

"What?" the pilot asked. "Are you mad? We're only a few minutes from landing!"

They could not land if force field shields repelled contact of everything solid and substantial. They could also not land if they were destroyed. Jehu did not care for the pilot's protests. The Galaga had grown lax, assured that the display of her power would intimidate others, and she would not have to actually use that power. Jehu never forgot to be on alert -- not since he lost his eye.

Without a word, he jammed his hand upon the purple button that erected the emergency force shields. As he did, the alarms began to ring in throughout the ship. The raucous party down the hall began to be filled with panicked noises.

"What the --" the pilot said furiously, shooting to his feet to face Jehu. "You had no right!"

"Those aeroplanes are headed for us!" Jehu growled, glaring down at the stuffy little pilot.

"They're not fighter squadrons," the co-pilot interposed, looking at his many computer screens, where blueprints and pictures of the aeroplane were scattered.

"Ships can be edited," said Jehu.

The pilot looked at the monitor showing the ships, which the automatic computer had helpfully displayed upon the screen at the mention of this threat. Jehu was not a man of technology, but he had to appreciate the efficiency of a computer. He related to that.

The pilot's face blanched. "It can't be. They were destroyed..."

Jehu looked again. The pilot, unable to explain his cryptic words, had resorted to simply pointing to an aeroplane in the middle of the formation. Jehu had thought the strange design was a result of someone adding their own upgrades to an aeroplane, but when he realized when he was seeing he froze. An aerorocket. It was completely lethal, quick as light, and never left any survivors.

The sliding doors smoothly opened and Ferra strode in.

"Reasons?" he asked.

Jehu liked this about Captain Ferra. He never said anything unnecessary.

"Aeroplane offensive formation with an aerorocket, headed straight our way at 150 m.," Jehu reported.

There were some men who are never fazed by anything. Ferra was such a man.

"Put the ship on war mode," he ordered. "We're going to be destroyed, but we won't go down easy."

The pilots gulped, looked nervously at each other, and then seemed to steel themselves. Maybe they weren't the weaklings Jehu thought.

"Jehu, come with me," Ferra said, and the two walked out of the cockpit and down the hall, to a bare room. The Galaga used to have a bigger crew, but Ferra had fired many of the incompetents on the ship.

"They're coming for the girl," Ferra said. "You will take her and leave in the escape pod."

Jehu had thought the girl -- the mysterious young lady enlisted to fly with them -- was the cause. There was something unusual about her. Obviously Ferra knew more about her than Jehu did.

"Who is she?"

"She will tell you... in time. Go now, they will soon be upon us."

Jehu stared at Ferra. There was no question then in his mind to disobey him, but he wished there had been. He wished later that he had stayed to fight and die with his captain.

"Where will we go?" Jehu asked, hating to leave.

Ferra smiled. "I would have thought you knew. Denifit. Go to Denifit."

Jehu cursed. It was the land of his birth. But he grasped Ferra's hand, said gruffly, "Take care," and left the room.

In ten minutes he had abandoned the ship with the young woman with him. In another ten minutes the Galaga was nothing more than a ball of flames, spiraling to Telluria's surface.

*****

A/N: This was a very difficult story for me, which is why it sucked. I am not good at science fiction. I realize this isn't even short story, so I ask you all to please, overlook this extremely crappy nonsense and continue on.