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LUCCA
Alarms pierced the dense cabin air. She dropped everything and dove into the cockpit. Square images of the outside universe blinked awake across her screen.
The sky was a confetti meat grinder. Destruction rained down from far above, warping buildings across the valley. Dozens of ships flew in frenzied patterns like a pond of disturbed minnows.
The fueling station was gone.
Her mouth dropped.
She tried to radio Caligher. After a few frantic moments of silence, she slammed the keys. “Cal, whereareyou right now?!”
She searched the skies, discovering two spaceships she recognized at once.
Humans.
Human ships loomed above the city, turning in jerking, blocky motions, shooting at any approaching ships. They’d bombed the fueling station. Bombed even more than that.
She couldn’t get ahold of Caligher. Burning with shame, she dialed the human ships, at the edge of the biggest decision of her life. Leaving Caligher was incomprehensible, but she needed to assess her options—in case Caligherdidreact poorly.
At the very least, she needed to get a message home to her parents.
“Hello? Hello?” She spoke in English, double/triple/quadruple-checking that she wasn’t broadcasting to Caligher or Morwong. “Can anyone hear me?”
“Who is that?” barked a male voice.
The sound of English was a punch to the gut. Like cresting the surface of the water—coming out of a dream. She questioned what was real in the pounding surrealism.
“Lucca Watts. Who are you?”
“Name’s Gonzales, ma’am. We didn’t expect to find you. Location?”
“Down below. My ship’s near the wall. It’s the pink one, sir.”
“We see it. Stay put, Miss—”
Another voice interrupted him. A conversation of low, male murmuring broke out. Someone typed on a keyboard as Lucca sat there on the other line, forgotten.
Someone spoke. “Intruder on the other ship.”
“Christ.”
Whatever was said next was lost in a flurry of audible mayhem.
“…’s on the line.”
“Patch him through.Hurry.”
Lucca witnessed the escalation from a calm bridge to panic and chaos. Echoing from further away was the voice of mortal terror.
“Half the ship’s gone! We can’t hold it!” This man knew he had seconds left to live.
Lucca heard frantic pleas, screams, then explosions. Within less than a minute, one ship exploded and the second ship was under attack.
With a disturbing efficiency, the alien took her salvation ship apart. She listened to the men speaking up above—a stoic, astoundingly calm, last-ditch effort to survive.
They lost.
The feed fell silent as the ship cracked open like a phoenix egg—only to go immediately dark. Even the flames sputtered out of existence. She leaned close to her monitor, panned the cameras around, and searched the skies for answers.
