#vayra

He knew something was wrong. The interferences were getting stronger. Only once he heard Tharam’s voice clearly enough. “NO! Vayra!” Feverishly he hacked into the control panel, into the pad, the panel again.

“Can’t get a clear signal. What’s going on down there.” The heavy infantry’s voice sounded angry, but it only betrayed his worry.

“Something’s happened.” He was sure of that, Tharam had sounded desperate. “Not sure what. It’s serious.” The younger man had sounded frantic. “Tharam’s there.” He was still punching in codes, and codes to override codes. Finally, he had sliced it: “Got them.”

“Incoming. Got your position.” He turned the shuttle and bee-lined to the position indicated on the computer.

“Any answer?” The leather of the seat creaked for mercy under the iron grip of the heavy infantry.

“No…” His teeth screaked for mercy as he clenched his jaws shut.

“Hurry this hunk of junk up!”

[......]

A feeble smile played on her stained lips as he heard his name for a third time, soft as a sight: “Tern.”

“Thar ...” He croaked and the vocoder distorted his try. He coughed and cleared his throat. It was not enough. Swiftly he also reached up with his other hand, and with one still covering her he lifted his helmet off and tried a smile: “Tharam. My name is Tharam.”

It was not as he had imagined it to be, it was not as he had wanted it to be. In his daydreams neither of them was at the brink of dying, in his musings there were no others anywhere close. In his planning the whole setting would have been much more … he looked for a word … romantic. But it felt right. He couldn’t help it, it just felt right.

For as long as he had wanted to share his name with her, for as long as he had wished she could really see him. This was as perfect as the moment could get – she with a blood smeared face and him with blood-shot watery eyes. It was not pretty, but it was perfect.

He huffed at the thoughts and scrunched up his nose and noisily drew an inhale: “I’ve got a snotty nose.”

“I know.” Her exhale was light and her lip tugged up in a lop-sided manner.

He saw her eyes darting over his face and had to remind himself that it was only the second time she could take a look at him. He corrected himself. The first time, he didn’t want to let their first time count, he didn’t want to remember her breaking eyes as she perceived his features. This was their first time.

And all of a sudden he became nervous. He was nothing to look at: face sweaty, nose red and snotty, eyes puffed and reddened from crying, and his hair a pure mess of widely tangling locks.

And all of a sudden he realized her last words: “Wait! You know?”

Her grin turned mischievous for a second and then sombre: “When … when you collapsed on the ship after … after Daryc bit you. Dargak, he called for you … he let it slip ... but I had other cares. And at the crater … you gave me … and ...”

He had to interrupt her. He would have thought that his sister had told her in one of their conversations. But it made sense that Dargak had used it, he had always only used his name to get his attention, in a case of emergency: “You never used it? You only …”

“It was enough for me. It was what you gave me willingly and …”

Her lips split in a small, almost shy smile and her eyes dipped down to his mouth for a second.

“… and I wanted you to tell me.”

A surge of panic raced through him. Explosives – no one had mentioned the pirates used explosives! They hadn’t equipped for this!

The sled was down, on its side and wouldn’t move an inch anymore. He inhaled slowly against the sharp pain that travelled his neck upwards. Then he smelt it. The fumes of fuel, the stench of smoke. He tore at the seat’s harness, but his gloved hand slipped, squelched wetly. He moved his helmet down to his side to see what inhibited him.

But he didn’t get far. Ripping pain spread from his neck to his shoulder. Something akin to claws tore at his skin beneath his cowl as he tried to move. Pain and frustration made him growl as he fumbled for the vibroknife in his boot to slash the straps that kept him pressed him into his seat although they also kept him from falling fully against the door. He swore when the knife slipped from his grip, even the insides of his glove felt slippery. He started to cough with the denser getting smoke and with renewed urgency he sawed at the straps.

He heard the dull thuds of the slugs hitting the turned-up bottom part of the sled. Not good, that wasn’t good! Suddenly the transparisteel splintered and something larger than a slug whined past his helmet. He suppressed the panic that started to spread and feverishly grabbed the simple knife on his belt to work on the straps. There weren’t supposed to be that many pirates, they weren’t supposed to be armed that heavily and Paz was supposed to back him up. Where was the heavy infantry?

More slugs that found their way into the cockpit. More whines, this time resulting in sparks from his pauldron and cuirass. They were zeroing in on him.

Then, finally, the louder and darker droning of the heavy blaster canon. The heavy infantry had arrived. Paz was drawing the fire away from him. He concentrated on the straps again. Feeling the first giving way, he braced against the jostle it would give his body when he sagged further towards the sled’s door beneath him.

A loud thudding noise made him look towards the headrest. Where his helmet had been a second before, smoke covered a hole in the pilot’s chair. He gasped, both in realisation and pain. There was not time for that, even though the high-pitched noises from the smaller blasters got less.