To the Stars Beyond - Part 2

Arrova – of the Darsarian people

7th of his house and loan Seeker of the starship Heaven’s Eye

Vocabulary: Vekka - Darsarian swear word. Vogal - clutch mother/mentor. Seeker - A captain of exploration vessels. Consortium-governing body consisting of several species.

“Vekka! I swear, as the display panel flashes the same error as the previous hundred times.

My tail swings in agitation, nearly knocking the tool kit I have splayed open off the nearby counter.

The past two days have been beyond frustrating. I was an excellent mechanic, top in my field, and it has been shameful with how this error has eluded all my attempts to correct it so far.

Most vital systems read as normal, but for the engines The vekking engines!

The spines along my head and down my back rise and fall in time with my swinging tail. I try to calm myself as I ponder the problem once more.

You should have flown with Terrofoth, I imagine my vogal saying. I sigh. I doubt a second would have any better ideas on how to fix this error than what I’ve tried so far.

Most Seekers don’t fly without a second, but my last dozen or so solo ventures have had no issues.

Until now, that is. When the energy wave that I had been tracking had unexpectedly flared, it had caught me up in its pull and dragged me along for several sectors. Since then, I have been able to repair most of the damage, except for long range sensors, long range communications and, of course, engines.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the second, albeit less powerful wave, was due to arrive any minute.

I’ve put out a warning signal regarding the wave and sent a distress call. But since this area of space was seldom traveled, I’ll likely have to solve this problem by myself.

I have pre-programmed in coordinates to a nearby habitable planet. If I am to be swept along by the second wave, I'll use my momentum and the working thrusters to make an emergency landing there. I have supplies to last me for months, enough time for me to either make the repairs to my ship, or for my people to find me.

Once again, I turn to the console. My talons graze the controls, punching in the command to open the service compartment.

There are a few things I haven’t tried yet because if they fail it could cause more damage to the systems.

I stop suddenly when a warning blip appears on the screen. I stare at the readings, my secondary lids blinking rapidly as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing.

It’s an approaching craft, but of no make or model I have ever seen before.

“What the vekka is that?” I growl.

My communications array lights up. The little ship is trying to contact me.

I stare at the illegible script that runs across my screen. It's of no sentient race that I’m aware of. I don’t have time for this, but I run the text through the ship's database anyway.

The energy wave’s pull will also catch the strange ship if I’m not able to communicate and warn it off.

Surprisingly, the computer finds something. Race beta 9, from a planet several lightyears away. The information was from many centuries ago, with nothing recent.

I skim the information. They are a bipedal species, warm-blooded, intelligent but aggressive. Those aggressive tendencies had been leading the race to self-annihilation.

The Consortium had warned its members away from the species and their planet, allowing for their natural progression. But judging by the ship in front of mine, species beta 9 hadn’t gone extinct.

There was a lot more information, but time was short, and I currently didn’t have the luxury of study. Unfortunately, no language files were included in the information, so attempting to communicate would take more time than we had.

That small craft was certainly not on its own. I’m sure it was from a larger vessel, one my non-working long range sensors couldn’t detect. I doubt it was close enough to help its brethren in time, anyway.

The alien ship might outrun the wave, but I don’t think its occupant is aware of the approaching storm, otherwise they would be fleeing.

I curse again. My vogal would not be proud of my excessive swearing.

I knew barely anything about this species and yet I did not want it to get swept up, and either damaged or destroyed by the energy wave that was imminent.

As if my thoughts conjure it, the short-range sensors blare. I don’t even have time to curse again as my claws fly over the controls.

Throwing up my shields, I extend them around the little ship and lock them to me with a restraint beam.

I ignore the sudden flood of the alien text that flashes across the communications screen as I stow the tools and strap myself into a chair. I hope whoever is in that ship has securely strapped in as well because the ride will not be smooth.