Something Good

[Toaster]

They reached the hangar deck and the elevator doors slid open. The corridors beyond were drenched in flashing red as emergency lights strobed along the walls. Clutching Cara’s shoulder in one hand for support and his sidearm in the other, Percival and the girl stumbled out of the lift towards the docking bay.

“Not much further,” the agent muttered, trying as much to reassure himself as Cara. Together, they entered the deserted bay, empty save for Galahad’s and Percival’s Avenger.

“Quick.”

They hurried towards it, Percival’s eyes darting around the chamber, searching for anyone who might try to stop them. He could see no one. Up ahead, the ship’s access ramp lay open for them, just as he had prepared it.

“Almost there.”

As if on command, Percival’s legs buckled and the battered duo crashed to the deck in a jumble of limbs. He coughed, spattering the steel plating with blood. His lungs burned and his breathing felt labored, as if there was too little oxygen in the air around them.

Lung’s shot, he realized.

“Come on,” Cara pleaded, her weakened body straining to get the man back onto his feet. “It’s right there!”

The two of them struggled back up and continued their limp towards the ship.

“Percival!”

The shout echoed through the hangar. The agent and girl froze. From behind the Avenger, a man with blond hair strode out into the open, right hand resting on a holstered sidearm. His cold gaze locked onto them as he stepped between them and the ship, blocking their path.

“Galahad,” Percival spoke, wiping a string of blood from his lips.

“What are you doing?” Galahad asked simply. “Have you gone mad?”

Percival gritted his teeth and straightened up, keeping a hand on Cara’s shoulder. She looked to and fro between them, unsure what to do. Percival took as deep a breath as his collapsing lungs allowed.

“I’m taking her away from here.”

His colleague shook his head slowly, as though the answer disappointed him.

“I can’t let you do that.”

With a flick of the finger, Galahad unbuttoned the latch on his holster, resting his palm on the pistol’s grip.

Keeping his eyes on the man before him, Percival leaned in close to Cara.

“Go on,” he whispered, trying to sound as confident as he could in his injured state. He nodded towards the ship’s ramp. “Get her started up. I’ll be right behind you.”

The young woman stared into his eyes, her own wide with confusion and fear.

“Go on,” he repeated. The fear gave way to determination and she gave him a single nod of the head. He released her shoulder and she started towards the ship, glaring at Galahad. The blond-haired man paid her no heed, keeping his eyes on his partner. With quick steps, Cara dashed up the ramp into the ship’s interior.

The two men stared at each other, neither moving. Galahad’s breathing was calm, his posture relaxed as his fingers tapped slowly against the holster on his belt. Percival stood across from him, panting, his shirt soaking an ever deeper red as blood continued to spill from his wounds. In his right hand, he tightly clutched his pistol, finger on the trigger.

They stood in silence.

Then, quick as lightning, Galahad drew his gun and raised it at Percival. Percival aimed at him in return.

Two strokes of thunder echoed throughout the hangar.


* * *


Cara stumbled through the ship’s cargo bay, past the vacant cryotubes, racks of computer equipment, weapons lockers, and reinforced chests, into the cramped cockpit. She glanced around, eyeing the scores of instruments, buttons, and dials, and realized that she had no idea how to power up a spaceship. The switches and screens were all labeled but the words were abbreviated to such an extent that she could make no sense of them.

She dropped into the pilot’s seat and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and collect her thoughts. This wasn’t the time for her to panic. Cool-headed, she thought back to Denver. She had flown air speeders around Estes Park a few times before. With any luck, she thought, a space fighter would operate similarly.

Cara glanced at the dashboard before her, scanning it for anything that looked at least vaguely familiar. After a second, she found what she was looking for. Two switches, side by side, one labeled PWR, the other ENG STRT. She flicked the first and was rewarded with the hum of the ship’s reactor coming online. Then she flicked the other, causing the craft to tremble as its powerful engines came to life.

“Yes!” She shouted. Then, over the rumble of the engines, she heard two deafening blasts. She leaped out of the seat and ran back through the ship, down the ramp.


* * *

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Olivia Sable