66. Night Flight

Editors Note: Summation of the story is two posts down for those that would like an audio executive summary. This chapter goes back a few days in time. Rog and Emy have embarked from Bravo-Four-Zero in search of the medicine Keiran needs to survive. The chapter below Measured in Seconds has not yet occurred.



“Rog, do you know what you are doing.” said Emy.

“M, darlin’ I could land this bird on a teeler at full throttle with my eyes tied behind your back.” Rog’s grin conveyed complete overconfidence in his piloting abilities. “Hang tight pumpkin, I’m about to nest our little egg.”

“I’d prefer not to be someone’s omelet,” Emy shot back. She had lost her sense of humor about the same time the G-forces of Rog’s night descent had threaten to spoil the memory of the first hot meal they’d had in some time.

The flight through the Tear and down to Neraj had been spectacular. Approaching the atmospheric Tear reminded Emy of sailing through the locks on the western approaches of the Nusian peninsula on Hyneria. Her father had captained some of the largest sea going vessels and often took Emy with him. Sailing the oceans was not all that different to Emy than traveling through deep space.

The Nerajians were a rather insulated civilization. Their usually dense atmosphere and unpredictable Tears made many travelers reluctant to visit. Lack of sunlight caused most of the planet to be barren and many felt contributed to the diminutive size of the species. The average Nerajian stood only three-quarters the height of a Hynerian.

Rog and Emy were greeted like long lost family. The Nerajians had the medicine they needed but only one location was considered safe enough to house both the viruses and the agents of retribution, as the healing medicines were called in world. Three hours flight through the barren desert stood an impenetrable fortress. Here, they would find what they needed.

"Rog, do you see what I see?" asked Emy, her fear of Rog's flying replaced by a very bad feeling about the change in atmospheric conditions. Just a few minutes before the night sky had been as clear as day. In what seemed like seconds the sun, moon and landscape turned an eerie shade of blue as if they knew something her and Rog didn't.


“Uhmmm, yea, M. Not sure what’s going on but hang tight. I’ve got a visual on our fortress. Snazzle, locate and lock on their landing beacon. Conditions are deteriorating fast and I’m going to need . . . ”

“Rog, there is no landing beacon being broadcast,” said Snazzle.

“Impossible Snaz. Check another frequency.”

“My scanners have quadrupled checked every possible option. The fortress is not broadcasting a beacon.”



“Sunavabeeeotch!” said Rog, dragging out the expletive for dramatic effect. A little adrenaline rush in Rog’s mind was better than three shots of southern snoot and two lap dances in the back corners of the Purple Pampus back home. Emy did not share the sentiment.

Atmospheric Tears moved fast. Perfectly clear night turned to bluish overcast and then to darkness with high winds in a matter of minutes. Rog and Emy didn’t know it, but getting the agent of retribution was going to be the least of their troubles.

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