Sweat dripped from Rog’s forehead. His knuckles threatened to tear through his porcelain white hands, robbed of blood from the strain of intense maneuver. By all accounts Rog’s piloting was nothing short of spectacular.

“Kyra, I can’t keep dodging these torpedoes all day. Got any brilliant ideas?”

“I don’t think you are going to have to,” responded Kyra. “We’ve got an incoming transmission. Emy, can you bring the vid to full screen?”

The crew stood and watched as a murky blue figure appeared on the main screen. The alien image and alien voice sparked fear. Thought flowed and adrenaline pumped.

“Kyra, our computers cannot translate whatever language this species is speaking or even tell us what species this is,” said Emy. “I’m afraid—“

“Bravo-Four-Zero. You are in violation of Arc’teryx space. Prepare to be boarded. Resist and we will destroy you.”

The bridge got quiet. Just a few seconds seemed like minutes before Von spoke. “Seems we don’t have to worry about translating. Our friends appear not to be ignorant savages, or at least not ignorant. Kyra, may I escort you to the bay?”

“Anyone have any other ideas?” asked Kyra.

“If we let that thing onboard, we might as well just bend over. I for one ain’t, well . . . . I say we make a run. I dodged their torpedoes, I think I can—“

“Rog, we have no significant external defenses. We have no weapons. Our craft is not built for speed. And, we are in uncharted territory with no idea where the vortex has taken us. I don’t think we have a choice,” said Von.

“I beg to differ. Did you see the way–“

“With all due respect Rog, if those torpedoes were meant to destory us, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“I agree. Emy, transmit our welcome. Rog, stay here, you’re more valuable at the moment on the bridge. Von come with me. Keep all comms open,” said Kyra. “Watch your fear, don’t resist it. We may need the energy it brings to the table.”

Inside the bay, a small craft appeared more so than landed. Silver with bluish and purplish hints of scorched metal, neither Von nor Kyra had seen anything like it. Six figures emerged. One tall and rather dignified in his bearing, one shorter and wearing what appeared to be a cloak with only his cool purplish eyes showing from under the hood and four that looked like the armed escort. The tall one moved forward.

+My name is Taren. I trust you are Kyra?+

[editor’s note: the + symbol used instead of quotes signifies non-verbal, mind to mind, communication]

Categories: Story, Kyra, Rog, Von, Emy, Taren, Arc’teryx