Diarvet accepted the precious cargo from his subordinate, then knelt to Lilibet’s eye level. His massive hands cradled the toy with infinite gentleness as he nestled it into her waiting embrace. A smile softened his angular features. Not the commanding expression of a leader, but something warmer, more affectionate. “You hold on to him tight, okay, princess?”
“Okay,” Lilibet nodded, her emerald eyes wide as she held the toy tightly.
The shuttle’s boarding ramp extended like a metallic tongue, the surface textured with anti-slip ridges. Diarvet guided us up the incline, his large frame positioned between us and therest of the bay. Only when we reached the doorway, did he turn back to address the small contingent of males that had gathered.
His voice was firm as he issued rapid-fire orders—directing them to report to the bridge for new assignments, ensuring that access to the docking bay stayed sealed during the critical minutes ahead.
I glanced about, taking in the vessel that would be our salvation or... I didn’t want to think about the alternative. The shuttle was compact but not cramped, a sleek, teardrop-shaped vessel of polished metal. Its hull curved gracefully from a pointed nose to a rounded stern. Twin engines flanked the rear, with the exhaust ports dark and ready. Swirling back from the nose on either side were streaks of orange and red—flames, I thought, though the artistic rendition left a lot to the imagination.
Inside, storage compartments and control panels lined the cabin walls. A small galley occupied one corner. Barely more than a food dispenser and water reclaimer, but sufficient for short journeys, with a small seating area.
A low partition separated the pilot and co-pilot seats from the rest of the space, the two plush leather seats surrounded by a constellation of holographic displays and tactile controls. Overhead, a transparent aluminum canopy offered an unobstructed view of the stars, while beneath our feet, the deck plates hummed with the quiet vibration of the life support systems.
It was a ship built for speed and stealth rather than comfort. A vehicle designed to slip through asteroid fields and evade pursuit, carrying precious cargo to safety, or so I hoped.
Diarvet settled into the pilot’s seat, his massive frame somehow fitting perfectly. He gestured for Lilibet and me to settle into the co-pilot’s chair, the silver cushioning sighing softly as we nestled together and engaged the harness. Hisfingers danced across the console with the precision of a concert pianist, each touch awakening small, multicolored lights that blinked to life like stars awakening. But one thing remained conspicuously, ominously absent: the deep, reassuring rumble of an engine coming to life.
“I’ve cut everything but essential systems and shields," he explained, his voice a low murmur that somehow managed to be both calming and deeply unsettling. I felt my pulse quicken, my breath catching in tight, shallow gasps at the idea of surrendering ourselves to space. “When the docking doors open, the shuttle will be pulled out among the asteroid belt and, hopefully, appear as nothing more than space debris.”
My muscles tensed involuntarily, instinctively adjusting as I braced for the unknown that loomed just moments away.
“Do you think the Kwado will buy it?” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath of air, not wanting to disturb Lilibet, who hummed a soft, wordless melody to her teddy bear.
Diarvet didn’t answer immediately, but the look he shot me—a flash of deep blue eyes shadowed with grim uncertainty—said plainly that he didn’t want to consider what would happen if they didn’t.
The warning klaxons erupted through the dock like the screams of mechanical banshees, as emergency lights shifted from steady amber to pulsing crimson, painting everything in hellish hues. Massive hydraulic systems groaned to life, deep mechanical roars reverberating through the shuttle walls and into my very bones. The atmosphere recyclers whined to a higher, more desperate pitch, working frantically to maintain pressure against the inevitable.
Then the doors—two colossal barriers sliding apart like tectonic plates shifting—opened. The first hairline crack of star-filled darkness appeared between them, no wider than a blade’sedge, but the air began to stir with the hiss of escaping atmosphere.
As the gap widened, the hiss became a roar, then a howling tempest. Loose debris—forgotten tools, cargo containers, anything not clamped to the deck—began a pilgrimage toward the growing maw of infinite darkness. When the doors reached their full extension, the asteroid belt stretched infinitely and cold, scattered like diamonds against the absolute black of space. The artificial gravity generators groaned in mechanical agony, as the universe itself seemed to reach in with invisible fingers, hungry and desperate.
In that suspended moment between safety and vacuum, between light and the endless dark, time seemed to freeze—until physics remembered its immutable laws and forces beyond comprehension seized our small vessel and flung into the void.
The shuttle jerked violently as the first asteroid fragments pinged against the shields like cosmic hail, each impact sending ripples of faint blue energy cascading across the transparent canopy. Outside the asteroid field stretched endlessly in all directions—a vast graveyard of shattered worlds. Some fragments were no larger than pebbles, while others loomed like drifting mountains.
Diarvet’s hands moved across the controls, each adjustment calculated and deliberate. The shields hummed with constant energy, the protective barrier invisible except when debris struck. Then flashes of blue light would illuminate the jagged surfaces of rocks spinning just meters away, close enough to count the impact craters that scarred the surfaces like battle wounds.
In my arms, Lilibet whimpered like a frightened kitten, her small body trembling against mine as the reality of our situation penetrated even her child’s understanding.
“Hey, Princess,” Diarvet said softly, his voice a warm rumble. He held out his massive arms to her, the gesture both an invitation and promise of safety. Lilibet dove into his embrace without hesitation. I made no move to stop her. Right now, his strength felt like our only anchor.
“I’m scared,” she whimpered, her large green eyes shimmering with frightened tears.
“We’re safe, the shields will protect us, see?” Diarvet pointed to a shimmer of light just visible through the viewport, undulating like liquid mercury as it deflected a small asteroid, sending it ricocheting back into endless space with casual, almost playful ease.
Lilibet gave a brave nod, but I could tell from the way her small fingers clutched at her teddy bear she wasn’t entirely convinced. So could Diarvet. He settled her more securely against his broad chest, his muscular arms wrapping around her with the protective instinct of a father shielding his child from a storm.
“Did you know that long ago, there was a brave princess who maneuvered through an asteroid field just like this one to save her people?” His deep voice took on the cadence of a storyteller, warm and hypnotic, designed to weave dreams that could chase away nightmares.
Lilibet shook her head, her eyes widening with curiosity as she gazed at him, momentarily distracted from her fear.
“Long ago,” Diarvet began in a soothing tone that wrapped around us like a protective blanket, “there was a young Zarpazian princess who loved her people very much. She was brave and kind, like you, and she possessed a warrior’s heart that burned brighter than any star in the galaxy. In a time of great peril, when all seemed lost, she dared to take to the stars, trusting in her courage and intuition to guide her. She showed her people that even the smallest among them could change thecourse of destiny with one brave action. Just like you and your MeMe.”
I settled back into my seat, letting his rich voice wash over me. The constant ping and whack of asteroids against our shields became background music to his story, no longer a source of terror. No, my more immediate concern—and I had to bite back a laugh at the absurdity of it—was that my ovaries might actually explode from the sheer overwhelming attractiveness of watching this powerful warrior comfort my frightened child.
Chapter 6
Diarvet
