Tori (Patreon)

What in the hells will Tori and Druka do about Sese?

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When Druka didn’t move quickly enough, Sese gave him a little shove in the throat with her nightstick. It hurt! He doubted she did any permanent damage, but her aim had been perfectly chosen to leave him doubled over, gasping, and choking.

“Druka!” shouted Tori, putting her paws on him. She glared up at Sese. “Why would you do that?”

“Keep your voice down,” she said without apologizing. “Get up. Move.”

Tori helped him up even though he didn’t really need assistance, and the trio started walking slowly down the corridor at a speed Tori could manage—Tori and Druka up front, Sese behind. Druka rubbed his neck, trying to massage out the bruise and contemplated his options.

He considered running. Sese might be bigger and stronger than he was, but there was no guarantee that she was faster too. If she chased him, there’d be no one left to guard Tori, and she could … what? Yeah, that’s where the plan fell apart. What could Tori do? Hobble to get help? From whom?

And even if he did escape, then what? Could he stop them somehow? He had no idea. Tori was ten times the problem-solver he was, but she was in no shape to enact a plan.

He could turn and fight. He could grab Tori’s cane… He spared a glance back at Sese, but she reacted immediately, hitting him at the base of his left ear. Ouch!

“Move,” she said, despite the fact that he hadn’t slowed.

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, rubbing the spot. Yeah, that was a stupid idea as well. He’d made the cane of lightweight aluminum tubing so Tori wouldn’t struggle with it. He’d only end up folding it in two if he tried to swing it.

“Quiet.”

Tori turned, tears in her eyes. “Why are you—”

“Move,” hissed Sese. She flicked the nightstick once more, hitting Druka again in the exact same spot.

“Ow!” shouted Druka. He covered his wounded ear with a paw and sucked a breath through his teeth, careful to keep his eyes forward this time.

At least she hadn’t hit Tori! He was thankful for that, but the threat had clearly been just as effective. “Druka!” she gasped again, touching him.

“Just keep walking,” he whispered. “I’m fine.”

“And stay quiet,” she reminded them, but this time, her voice was quieter, bordering on apologetic.

To Druka’s surprise, Sese marched them past a number of ideal hiding spots—a storage closet, a conference room, the airlock to the commissioner’s quarters. She could have ushered them into any of those, dispatched them easily with two quick blows, and left their bodies. So long as the krakun escaped at oh-three hundred hours before someone found their corpses, no one would even raise an alarm.

Instead, she made them walk around the edge of the deck to the ramp and up two levels. They avoided large groups of geroo, but Sese was apparently okay with a lone crewman or two seeing them. Though she clearly didn’t want them talking to anyone, the officer didn’t make any effort to “get rid of witnesses” when they were spotted.

No one asked where she was taking them nor why.

At last, Sese guided them to the bridge. Druka pushed open the door and found the control center empty—or nearly empty at least. Captain Gutassi paced anxiously back and forth across the back of the room. Onaha, from engineering, sat hunched in front of a monitor, unblinking. Security Chief Tipohee slouched in the corner on a desk chair.

Tipohee leapt to his paws as soon as the three arrived. “Did they say anything?” he demanded of Sese. “Did they talk to anyone?”

“No, sir!” she said with a sharp salute.

“Oh, thank the ancestors,” he sighed, deflating. He spent a moment with his palms, smoothing out some of his fur that had been standing on end. He grabbed two chairs from a pair of empty workstations and, with a shove, rolled them into the corner.

Sese escorted them to their seats, and Druka held Tori’s chair still for her while she sat. Before Sese finished, his eyes met hers. Turned away from Tipohee now so the chief couldn’t see her face, the officer looked truly apologetic, her ears drooping low. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed silently.

Then the security chief ushered her out, shoving at the air with his palms. “Go. Go.”

He locked the door behind her.

“You have to stop her!” whimpered Tori. “She’s going to—”

“Hush!” hissed Tipohee.

Tori and Druka shared a look, but it was Tori who spoke, “Captain? What’s going—”

“Not a word!” demanded the chief.

“Tori?” called a voice. “Are you there? I can hear your mate cutting my hatch open.”

“I’m here!” called Tori. “It’s not Druka cutting—”

“Shh!” hissed the chief. “We’re only monitoring the intercom. He can’t hear you.”

“You listened in on—”

“Shh!”

“And it’s a good thing we did,” grumbled the captain as he paced. “You and your fool mate nearly got us all killed.”

Tori started to stand. “Sir—”

But the chief was quick to shut her down. “Sit it. Shut it,” he demanded.

She sat back down. She shut her muzzle.

Tori put her paw over Druka’s, and they sat in silence while the captain’s paws padded softly back and forth across the deck.

“Not a lot of crew,” Druka whispered in his mate’s ruined ear, “needed to helm the bridge.”

Tori shook her head. She didn’t reply for a while but eventually touched her lips to his ear. “They’re suppressing what’s going on. Afraid the crew will panic.”

Druka nodded and said no more. Tori looked at him and squeezed his paw. “I love you,” she mouthed, and he did the same.

The waiting was endless. Druka must have fallen asleep because he awoke with a snort when Tori tapped at his arm. He looked around, but nothing had changed. Two of their captors waited while the third paced.

Tori glanced at the strand on her shoulder, then up at Druka. He looked at his own. Nearly oh-three hundred now.

What’s going to happen? he wondered. Will they let—?

He didn’t get long to contemplate the possibilities before they heard the commissioner’s voice on the intercom once more. “Tori are you there? Can you hear me? I hope not,” he whispered. “Hopefully, you’re on my shuttle, suited up and ready. I won’t wait for you.”

A pause and Druka wondered just who the krakun thought he was talking to.

“I’m scared,” he admitted to no one. “My gut hurts so bad, but we’re gonna make it, I promise you. It’s like twenty steps to the terminal and another twenty beyond that. I’ll hide you. I’ll get us out of this trap, the doctors will fix me up, and I’ll make good on my promises. You’ll see.”

He groaned, then silence.

The silence stretched so long that Tori and Druka shared a worried look, but then at last, they heard Commissioner Troykintrassa say, “Okay, it’s oh-three hundred. Here I go. Wish me luck.”

Druka watched as Tori closed her eyes. Her lips moved silently. “Good luck.”

At least someone was going to survive this mess, Druka thought. In all their debates about which option was right, they hadn’t really taken the time to think about the commissioner. True, he was just one person compared to the crew’s ten thousand, but he probably still had thousands of years ahead of him. Compared to the geroo, the krakun were nearly immortal.

He could certainly live longer than two weeks for every geroo left on board. Perhaps letting him alone escape more than balanced the scales of what was ethical?

The captain stopped his pacing. He and the security chief both stared at Onaha, but she sat silently, eyes not leaving the screen.

More silence, then the chief of engineering spoke up, her voice deadly calm. “Trinity controls have been overridden. The shutdown has been cancelled.”

Druka felt his heart trying to climb up his throat. “Please,” Tori begged, “you have to stop him, or we’ll all be killed!”

“Shh!”

More silence. Onaha sat passively at the station, her paws in her lap. She made no effort to countermand the commissioner’s efforts.

Couldn’t they do something? wondered Druka. Pull out the breakers, cut the cables … something to keep him from telling the company what had happened?

“The trinity is back online,” said the engineer. “The gate is open.”

“On screen, please,” said Captain Gutassi.

The large screen at the end of the bridge flickered and revealed a massive star field. A ring of tiny blue lights circled the blackness, demarcating the edges of the gate. Though the massive ring was several meters thick, in the blackness of space, it was invisible.

In the center of the blue lights sat a greenish ball—Krakuntec Prime.

“Atmosphere cycling in the shuttle bay,” said Onaha. Then, “Bay door opening.”

The commissioner’s shuttle drifted silently from the edge of the display, shrinking steadily as it headed toward the gate.

Tori was fidgeting hard. Her grip nearly crushed Druka’s paw.

“Shuttle is running silent but steady,” reported Onaha.

“You have to stop him!” Tori shrieked.

“Don’t make me muzzle you,” growled the captain, his ears back and serious. “I won’t hesitate.”

She ducked her head down in response.

“He’s through the gate. Now in Krakuntec space. The commissioner has left our sphere of control.”

Tori wept. Druka wiped at his eyes with his free paw.

Another minute passed. “The shuttle is being hailed by one of the navy’s interceptors.”

“On speakers,” said Gutassi. “Mute. Give them no indication that we’re listening in.”

Omaha touched a button and the speakers popped. “—immediately. I repeat, attention shuttlecraft exiting gate PA4921, this is Captain Kitariske of the Night Strike. We have not received your authorization codes for passage into Krakuntec space. Please transmit them immediately.”

“No reply from the commissioner,” said Onaha.

Druka and Tori looked at each other, their eyes opened wide. Druka’s heart beat so hard that he could barely hear anything over the sound of his own pulse. Had the krakun lost consciousness at the controls? They stared at the captain, but he said nothing.

Finally overcome, Tori ignored the captain’s threat and blurted. “Why isn’t he replying?”

Gutassi scarcely reacted. He didn’t, thankfully, make any attempt to silence Tori. He just kept staring holes into Onaha’s screen.

“We removed his radio,” muttered the captain, not even glancing their way.

———

Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1vCQHUYnJ1wv3jxuazW4_L-5Ropmi2gAtOfsSZxTQ68Y/edit?usp=sharing

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