So far, Amala had seen eleven different airfields, and so far, eleven of them were busts. She had a simple plan of escape, to secure themselves a vessel capable of interstellar travel, but as far as she was concerned, they were no closer to completing their objective than when they'd first captured their skyhopper. Not a single airfield they'd investigated thus far had had what she was looking for, and she wasn't entirely keen on trying forever, not with their skyhopper's fuel gauge dropping so low.

The twelfth airfield she'd chosen was located on the far edge of the jungle, about where the dense trees gave way to an endless field of red and white grass that stretched as far as the eye could see. Overhead, the twin moons were beginning their nightly retreat to the end of the horizon, chased by the rising sun as it tinted the sky with generous amounts of pink and orange. In the grasses, the floral scents of the jungle were diluted with that of the petrichor of freshly fallen rain and the distinct aroma of what was probably animal excrement or some dead rodent. However, the plains did lack the high humidity of the previous environment, if only because the strong gusts carried it away before the air could grow stifling.

What made this airfield stand out was a matter of two observations. The main complex itself had no distinguishing features from the previous airfields Amala had assessed; it consisted mainly of a quantum communications tower, a small barracks for the officers running it, and a flatter ground floor section that probably housed the common area, storage space and a control center. However, adjoining the main complex was an abnormally large hangar, standing two and a half times larger than all the others Amala had seen before, large enough to house an interstellar ship. The rest of the airfield consisted of an enormous airstrip, wide enough to accommodate her skyhopper at least eight times and longer than a dozen city blocks from her home town. Of all the locations they'd visited before, it stood to reason that a vessel of another kind stood waiting within the hangar.

According to her team's reconnaissance, there were supposed to be six doors leading in and out of the main complex, as well as two emergency exits. The hangar itself was not connected to the complex, although they were only separated by a distance of thirty meters. At the time of their arrival, the morning shift had just come out, wandering about the buildings on either guard patrol or maintenance. Even for a base this large, they were only up against a skeleton crew. Still, in preparation for a quick getaway, Selene had remained with the Krakoshan pilot back in their skyhopper, waiting for Amala's signal.

Behind Amala, the rest of her crew stood waiting anxiously for her to begin their raid. They shifted their weight from foot to foot, shot furtive glances at her, sometimes even paced around. Amala, to her own credit, stood perfectly still, deftly weaving her hair into an intricate braid so that the strong gusts on the prairie wouldn't make a mess out of it. None of her companions would raise a voice of dissent, not even Lian, who was a good four years older. For now, Amala just needed some peace and quiet.

Slowly, she extended her thoughts, feeling for the life teeming around her. Although lacking in formal training, Amala knew enough to empty her mind, searching out the bright sparks in the dark that represented her friends. She had never been particularly gifted, mostly because she did not possess enough strength to do anything more than read minds and probe thoughts, but today all she wanted was to feel the spark of life. Instead, all she felt was a void, dark and empty, a wall of shadow surrounding her own thoughts. Every attempt she made to pierce the void was futile; she could not sense any other thoughts beside her own. The lack of awareness she now felt was alien.

"Amala?" Lian finally asked. "Are we going or not?"

"In a minute."

"Amala, I swear, there are some storming big rats in this meadow. Are we going or not?"

Amala's fingers finished weaving her braid, tying a inconspicuous knot at the bottom to keep it neatly in place. Then, she bent down and plucked up her plasma pistol from the dirt, holding it loosely in her grip so it dangled at her side.

"Let's go," she said.

No sooner had the words left her mouth, Lian kicked off the ground with a muffled thump, thrashing the nearby flora into a frenzy. Seconds later, a heavy boom shook the air, accompanied by the loud groan of metal on metal. The tower by the complex shook, then tilted to the side, until it finally hit the ground with a tremendous crash. Almost immediately, the cries of shock and alarm rose from the base, the words indistinct but the voices distinctly Krakoshan.

Even before the tower had completely fallen, Amala's companions were racing out of the grasses, streaking out onto the airstrip as they charged the hangar. Garth in particular hopped onto a slab of earth, riding the wave ahead of the charge. Far ahead, doors were opening, letting out a small group of Krakoshans clutching heavy plasma rifles. Seeing the children, some opened fire, pelting the air with plasma bolts, which burned lines through the grass as they zipped past. In response, an earthen wall ripped out of the ground, forming a barricade against the incoming attack.

"Nicholas!" Amala called.

The boy glanced at her, slowing his jog and tilting his head to catch her words over the gunfire.

"Take them out!" she ordered.

"But-"

"Do it!"

The boy hesitated, though only for a moment, and then he disappeared in a flash of red lightning, zipping across the ground and past the earthen wall. Red light flashed and Krakoshans screamed in agony.

Trusting the others to take care of the soldiers, Amala dashed up to the hangar doors, glancing side to side for a smaller personnel door. Tracing the hangar's face, she eventually came across a dark metal door, nearly invisible against the metal panelling of the wall, and a control panel that rested flat against the surface beside the door. There was an accompanying keypad labelled with the Krakoshan alphabet. Amala could read the script just fine; that wasn't the problem.

"Password access," she mused, resting her fingers on it. Then, she stepped back, raising her borrowed plasma pistol to blast the keypad. The pistol barked once and sparks flew from the broken panel, but the door remained otherwise unopened.

"Odin's storming crows," she muttered, kicking the door with a shoe not designed for kicking.

"Need help?"

Swiveling around, Amala caught sight of Lian, who was leaning against the wall not too far away. The older girl raised an amused eyebrow at her, giving the burnt panel a pointed look.

"Yes," Amala said exasperatedly. "Hurry up."

Lian shrugged, stepping back. When she took a step forward, the air pressure around her seemed to drop, and just when Amala felt her ears were going to pop, Lian blurred forward, striking the door with such force that it crumpled inwards, flying into the room beyond like an arrow from a bow. Something crashed inside the building, and Lian gave Amala a mock bow.

"After you."

Shouts rose up from inside the hangar, and before Amala could make out what the Krakoshans were saying, Lian was tackling Amala to the side, out of the way of a hail of plasma bolts. The girls tumbled to the ground, scrambling away from the open doorway.

"Never mind," Lian huffed. "I can't get close enough to use my momentum on-"

"I have a new idea," Amala said, already on her feet. She picked at her clothes, dusting herself off quickly before the dirt had a chance to settle in. "Come with me."

She got to her feet, moving back around to the front of the hangar. When Lian rounded the corner, Amala pointed at the main doors, the large ones that opened by sliding to the side to allow large vessels to taxi inside.

"Knock," she ordered.

Lian grinned, then bounded up to the door, slapping a hand on it. The girl's brow creased momentarily as she stood still, and then the metal was groaning, rumbling as the heavy door slid aside. Just beyond, a number of Krakoshans stood in shock. Before any of them could recover from it, Lian was already barrelling through them, whooping in excitement as her momentum sent her crashing through the troopers like a human cannonball.

Amala moved to follow, glancing back at the boys. Garth was returning on a wave of earth from practically the other side of the airstrip, but Nicholas was only a few meters away, struggling hand to hand in the dirt with the last of the Krakoshans. Tilting her head, Amala strode closer, raised her pistol and shot the Krakoshan as it rolled to the side. The body spasmed and went limp, flesh sizzling where its heart used to be.

"They're just clones, Nicholas," Amala reminded him, watching the boy scramble to his feet. He was caked in dirt and his hair was a mess, but he looked otherwise unharmed. He gave her a wan look, but she was already turning her back on him, striding back towards the open hangar. "Come, we're almost done here."

Garth rejoined them just as they neared the door, slipping inside to find a victorious Lian standing over the last of the troopers, knocked unconscious on the floor. The interior was draped in shadow and the majority of the light came from the crack in the door, but unfortunately, that was more than enough to illuminate the room's most distinguishing feature: the emptiness.

"Um, Amala?" Garth asked, scratching his head. "Wasn't there supposed to be a ship here?"

"Maybe it's invisible?" Nicholas suggested, cracking a nervous grin, but he quickly wiped it off his face at Amala's furious look.

"It's not," Lian responded dryly, marching over to join them. "Otherwise, one of the Krakoshans I chucked should have bounced off of its hull. Boy, this is rich. Selene's gonna love this."

"What now?" Garth asked, turning to glare at Amala. "You said this was our best chance. Look at the hangar. There's no ship!"

"And how was she supposed to know that, Garth?" Nicholas shot back. "It looked just as good a target as any when we first got here, didn't it?"

"Quiet!" Amala barked, rubbing her temples.

Running low on fuel. Running low on rations. Running out of time.

Finally, she sighed, folding her arms. "Spread out. Find me an officer."

Her companions split up immediately, fanning out to execute her command. In short time, they returned, dragging along with them a slim Krakoshan. He was athletic, not built like a powerlifter like the artificial troopers were, and he had scales of a much lighter green than those brutes. When her companions dumped the officer on the ground before her, he quivered in fear, but rose to his knees nonetheless, staring back at her with bravado.

"I won't tell you anything," he said. He had a slight lisp to his Krakoshan vowels, the kind of accent associated with those raised on New Saata.

"Your life depends on it," Amala said, clucking her tongue. "Stand."

The Krakoshan stood, blinking in surprise. Though he stood a whole two heads taller, Amala did not blink as she stared back.

"I'm only going to ask once," she said, "and if you value your life, you'll answer truthfully. Where. Is. The Ship?"

"Gone," he replied, his voice trembling. "Rejoined the fleet last night after it unloaded its cargo. It comes every two weeks with a load of supplies, drops them off, then returns to pick up more. You just missed it."

Amala nodded slowly, stepping away from the Krakoshan. Then, switching back to her native Terran, she said to Lian, "Kill him."

The older girl frowned at her, but stepped forward and took the Krakoshan by the back of his head. Before he could react, she pulled his head down and cracked it against her knee. When she released the Krakoshan, he stumbled back. Then, his eyes rolled up and he collapsed, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

"No need," Lian drawled. "I broke their comms tower, didn't I? They can't radio elsewhere and tell them what happened here."

Amala glanced down at the unconscious Krakoshan, musing. After a moment, she tucked her plasma pistol under her arm, turning to stride out of the hangar.

"Let's move out," she called over her shoulder. "Time's a-wasting."

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