The thick, twisted metal groans in protest as it stutters open, bent near the hinges with the central area partially melted, leaving gaping holes.
“It works!” Demon Egg-Head crows, however his satisfaction quickly fades. “Though it’s not exactly airtight now, is it?” He adds, shooting a scathing look at Dracoth. My red radiator doesn’t even flinch. Not a word, not a wrinkle. I almost admire it in a way—if it wasn’t so irritating being on the receiving end of it.
We move toward a small, gray-colored ship that rests in the center of the bay, and I frown. Somehow, it appears even junkier than our current ship, like they picked it from a shifty, used-car dealer who operates out of a creepy junkyard.
I struggle to shake my head, still held in Dracoth’s grip. This just keeps getting worse and worse. What’s next—a hole in the ground for a toilet? Oh, wait, that’s old news now. God, these indignities are endless! Why does it feel like we’re arriving at a red-carpet event on a donkey?
Demon Egg-Head manipulates his holographic wrist device, and the creaky door of the ship sputters open—sticking halfway. “They don’t make ships like they used to,” the old Clown-dathian sighs.
Dracoth stretches, yanking down the hatch, which screeches in protest like a cat in heat. “It only needs to carry us a short distance,” he says
Assuming the door doesn’t decide to open itself in the vacuum of space!I’d complain bitterly if my red radiator wasn’t still holding me tight.
Our chains jangle as Dracoth stoops inside the ship, his immense height too much for the doorway. The inside looks like a frat house after a bender—rubbish, dust, and grime litter the cramped gray metal walls. The countertops and furniture look like cheap plastic knock-offs.
I was wrong; the old ship wasn’t the trailer park of space—this one is! Dracoth bends further, and I cling to him, trying my best not to touch any of the filth. He’s way too big for this place; if he stood up straight, I’m pretty sure his head would poke out like a scowling red fin.
“Why are we changing ships?” Sandra asks, carefully tiptoeing over the disgusting refuse which reeks of sweat and moldy bread. It’s a fair question, though I suspect the answer is to torment us.
“TheScythianBattlebarge is known to the Elders,” Dracoth rumbles against me.
Great, add spaceship theft to their list of crimes. His answer only heightens my anxiety, stirring more worrying questions—who are the Elders? What is a Scythian? Why does it matter if they know the ship? How did I even end up in this fucking mess?
We squeeze through the tight corridors of this floating garbage can, and eventually find a couple of worn chairs facing a window. Demon Egg-Head groans as he lowers himself into one, tapping at the multitude of holographic controls that blink to life.
“Sit,” Dracoth commands, gazing at Sandra.
“Oh, thank you,” she says, smiling sweetly, but the effect is almost ruined by the heavy clinking of her chains. She groans in pleasure, wriggling into the seat. “I could get used to this.”
“Don’t, pleasant little human,” Demon Egg-Head chimes in. I grimace at his words. The prick calls her pleasant while I’m the “plump one,” gagged and chained like a... like a... fucking heifer! The thought sends icy water down my spine. My cruel nickname is now an accurate description. Brilliant. Fantastic. Maybe they’ll eat me for lunch too, just to complete the humiliation.
“It will be a short hop over to our beloved Klendathor,” Demon Egg-Head continues, his hands working the controls with strange symbols that mean nothing to me.
How the hell did Kazumi figure this stuff out?A shame she did...
“Below us lies the sacred bosom of the Gods. The cradle of the greatest civilization to ever grace the void.” His voice is thick with pride.
“Class!” Sandra exclaims, her eyes locked on the closed docking hatch.
“Class?” Demon Egg-Head titters. “A curious expression. But yes, you should be excited. Behold!” He concludes with a dramatic press of a button.
Nothing happens.
An awkward silence stretches. “Wait, maybe it’s this—”
Dracoth reaches across, pressing something on the blue glowing terminal, still holding me easily with one arm.
“Ah, that’s the one,” Demon Egg-Head nods. “My thanks, young Dracoth.”
The docking hatch door creeps open. Inch by inch, it reveals a stunning vista with each tantalizing second. A massive red-orange planet glows in the void of space. It’s flanked by an immense purple sun that spews flares and bursts, which illuminate the abyss with violet flashes. The sun roars so close to the surface, like a fire-breathing beast about to scorch everything in its path—yet somehow, it doesn’t.
The sight is breathtaking—alien, majestic, and terrifying all at once, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Suddenly, I’m struck by the sheer immensity of what’s about to happen.I’m going to an alien planet!A thrill of fear and excitement races through me. What will it be like down there? Giant monsters? Advanced technology? Exotic foods? High culture? Who knows? But I’m about to find out!
Demon Egg-Head moves his blackened, tattooed hands over the controls, and our trailer park-like ship shudders to life. It coughs and splutters like an old car on its last legs. The initial stutter fills me with dread, but then we glide forward, smoothly leaving the docking hatch behind.
My pounding heart echoes in my chest. It feels surreal moving through space, watching the alien planet grow larger and larger with every passing moment.
Closer now, I can see a large moon. Its purple surface gleams like a polished amethyst amidst a sea of twinkling diamond stars. I glance back to the planet and notice the surface is mostly landmass, save for a vast expanse of water that stretches like a shimmering purple-blue continent.
