14.01.2723

"You know what?" Lian said, balancing on a tree root. "I'd really, really love a shower right now. I feel like I was vomited out of a dust bowl."

"Really?" Nicholas asked, glancing over his shoulder. "That's what you're worried about?"

"Quiet," Amala hissed. "I'm trying to think."

It had been nearly a day since they'd woken up and night was falling fast. Amala gritted her teeth, her mind working furiously. To her, it seemed only a day had passed since she was back at the Institute, writing a dissertation comparing Krakoshan district politics to their federal government. To the rest of the world, it had been two months since the massive terrorist attack decimated the Cadmus Institute and every prestigious Kinetic Academy in Kingsfield.

They'd all woken up here, on an alien planet in an alien jungle surrounded by fat red leaves and thick intertwining tree trunks that grew sideways instead of straight. Their stories sounded eerily similar, a life of prosperity in the Academies, undergoing rigorous Kinetic combat training, and then a sudden kidnapping by Gholian mercenaries. Or, in Amala's case, a prosperous life in the Institute studying political science until this misfortune put a damper in her memoirs. She needed to find a way to get home and fast; none of these poor kids could outthink their captors on their own.

"I don't know about you," Lian said, "but all this waiting is kind of making me antsy."

"Yeah," Garth sighed. "And I'm hungry, too."

"Keep quiet," Amala ordered.

The group grumbled, but they did as she said. Right now, Amala really did need the peace. The rest of the group was relying on her to find a way out, and she needed to concentrate. Her hunger dug at her like a sharp knife, threatening to shatter her focus. She already had a plan, but it was too risky. She needed to come up with some kind of contingency, but nothing was coming to mind.

Weighing her odds, it looked almost grim. She had practically no advantage, and just knowing the Krakoshan language was worthless unless they found a way to access their base of operations; other than that, she couldn't think of another way to get them home. But getting past their base meant getting past an army of soldiers literally born for battle. Not good odds at all.

Amala shifted uncomfortably on the ground, feeling a root digging into her leg. She hated the way the branches caught on her clothes, snagging and tearing all over. Had she known something like this was going to happen, she wouldn't have worn a stupid dress.

There were five of them in total. The first was Garth, a good-looking stocky boy who seemed to be around her age and could bend the earth to his will. A useful ability if all your opponents were standing on the ground. Then there was Selene, a tall girl who kept her platinum blonde hair wrapped in a painfully tight bun. She was cryokinetic, which meant she could manipulate ice the way Garth did earth. Even better, Selene had been able to draw water from the local flora, which helped alleviate their thirst.

Nicholas was the other boy in the group. He was maybe a year younger, and he claimed he had the ability to use lightning, although Amala had yet to see him use it. The last was Lian, an older girl with dark hair and slightly canted eyes who had the ability to control the momentum of herself and other objects. Lian was the first person Amala had discovered since waking up in the jungle.

And then there was herself. Her education at the Cadmus Institute had always been just that: education. Despite being a Kingsfielder, Amala had never had to use her telepathy in combat situations. Instead, she'd honed her power to enable her to master various languages and study the confusing sea of intergalactic politics. However, even if she were trained to use her telepathy to fight, she couldn't. She'd been awake for a while now, but for some reason, she couldn't yet sense her telepathy returning to her. It was frustrating to see the others able to use their abilities so soon after waking, but she would have to wait.

After forming this group the day before, Amala had been the one to come up with their plan: to hitch a ride toward Krakoshan civilization using the only technological aid they had available. That was why they were currently lying in wait around Selene's pod, hoping Krakoshans would come to investigate the pod's beacon so they could spring their trap.

"What if it doesn't work?" Nicholas asked softly.

"It'll work," Amala stressed. "That label above the button roughly translates into 'transponder.'"

"But what about-"

A low rumble cut her off, reverberating through the jungle. A constant rumble, growing louder and louder.

"They're here," Amala whispered. "Positions, everybody."

Just in front of them was the artificial clearing they'd made only hours ago. They'd broken down and cleared the nearby trees, planting brush and red moss to make the clearing seem more natural and conceal their ambush positions. Amala even had Garth create a false impact crater around the pod, so it would seem as if the pod had just happened to land in an open clearing in the jungle. It had taken a lot of work, but it was about to pay off.

A ship rumbled into view overhead, a small dropship with a backdoor that opened as a ramp. Its wings, rounded around the body and containing powerful turbines raised backward, slowed its descent, and the front of the ship was protected by a crystal windshield. Twin plasma turrets were mounted on its nose, and a smaller one was mounted on the belly, near the bow. The ship's dark gray metal seemed to absorb the moonlight as it glided through the air, slowly beginning its descent into the jungle. The bay doors opened, revealing a pair of heavily muscled Krakoshans toting energy rifles.

As the ship lowered, the roar of its engines became deafening, the wind from its thrusters blasting the trees and causing a storm among the foliage. Amala raised a hand to her face, protecting herself from the dust and waving tree limbs.

So close.

Just before the ship touched down, the Krakoshans hopped off, crunching through the thick undergrowth to pick up the pod. Their thick legs broke through the bushes easily, something Amala found herself oddly resenting. As Amala predicted, none of the Krakoshans could see the ambush lying in wait, not in the cover of night. The ship hit the ground with a loud ruckus of crunching wood and snapping twigs, its engines slowly powering down. The ramp came down, creating a platform for the Krakoshans to return to the ship.

Beside her, Nicholas tensed, and Amala held up a hand to steady him.

The pair of Krakoshans finally reached the pod, slinging their energy rifles over their shoulders by their straps to pick it up. Each took either the head or feet, bending down and grasping firmly.

"Now," Amala whispered.

The pod door flipped open, revealing the girl inside. Selene leapt to her feet and threw herself out of the way of the Krakoshans, hurling jagged daggers of ice. The Krakoshans howled, throwing themselves to either side. The ground rumbled as Garth stepped out of the trees, raising one hand into the air in a sweeping gesture. As he did so, the earth around the ship churned, twisting to reach up and grab the ship to prevent it from taking off.

Nicholas and Lian burst out of the trees at the same time, both flying forward at superhuman speeds. Each tackled a Krakoshan, their momentum hurling the soldiers all the way to the ramp of the ship. As they wrestled on the ship's ramp, another pair of Krakoshans emerged at the top, lowering their rifles at them. Almost immediately, spears of ice flew forward, pinning the new Krakoshans before they could fire.

Amala stood slowly, brushing off the dirt and twigs from her dress. As the others continued the fight, she carefully stepped out of the tree line, picking her way over to the pod. Selene had been the logical choice for lying in wait in there. With her cryokinetic abilities, she was the only one capable of mimicking cryogenic sleep by frosting the glass of the pod's viewport. Although convincing the girl to accept the risk had taken a bit of wheedling, it eventually paid off.

It had also been pure luck that the ship had decided to land. The artificial clearing they had worked to make had been enticing for the ship, but it could still have chosen to remain hovering and deployed Krakoshans by cable. Another factor left to chance.

Amala rubbed her thigh, briefly considering all the things that could have gone wrong. After a moment, she turned her attention back to the ship. Not yet, she thought. There were still things that could go wrong.

She stepped past the pod, picking her way through the brush toward the ship's ramp. By the time she got there, everyone else had already rushed inside to fight the remaining Krakoshans, but Nicholas was still on the ramp, wrestling with one of the bulkier Krakoshans. When she got close enough, she stopped, waiting just long enough until Nicholas had pinned one of the Krakoshan soldier's hands.

Then, she stomped hard on its fingers, breaking them with a crunch.

The Krakoshan howled, an earsplitting howl that would send shivers down most people's spines. Amala looked at it coldly. Krakoshan foot soldiers were all clones; this one was both physically and genetically identical to the other dead Krakoshans strewn about the clearing. She twisted her heel, grinding its hand to the ramp, allowing Nicholas to get a hand on its head.

A red flash of light crackled under Nicholas's palm, a blinding flash that disappeared almost immediately, leaving behind a burned Krakoshan and the odor of burnt flesh. The boy backed up quickly, avoiding the dead body as he stared down at his hand.

"The others should have control of the ship by now," Amala said, brushing past Nicholas.

He followed her without a word, walking past the slew of dead soldiers in the bay. There was dark blue blood everywhere, but she paid it no heed. Krakoshan blood, not the red blood of Kingsfielders. Her comrades were fine then. She stepped past the bay into the cockpit. Everyone else was gathered there already, waiting for her. They looked tired. Using their Kinetic abilities so strenuously, especially after coming out of a two-week cryosleep, was enough to almost incapacitate them. She was pushing their luck.

"Amala!" Garth exclaimed upon her entrance. "There's a pilot here."

"I know," she said.

She glanced around the cockpit. It was no different from any other ship cockpit. There were openings in the backs of the chairs for Krakoshan tails, and dimensions of the controls and chairs were built for larger beings. It made sense; Krakoshans were naturally taller and broader than Kingsfielders. A single dead body was on the floor, its neck clearly broken by the way its head was angled. The copilot was slumped over the dashboard, a spike of ice protruding from the back of its head.

The pilot was on all fours on the floor, his murderous gaze fixed on her. Amala ignored it, glancing about the cockpit. Her eyes alighted on a plasma pistol on the ground. The pilot must have tried using it. She bent down and picked it up, weighing it in her hand.

"Somewhat unwieldy," she said aloud. "But merely a crutch until my telepathy returns."

She focused on the pilot.

"Ghe ta'vor sslek," she commanded in Krakoshan, "sloh fahva ne'pol."

Pilot this ship, or forfeit your life.

The pilot spat at her feet.

"Never," he sneered in broken Terran.

Amala shot his foot.

He howled, collapsing on the floor and clutching the freshly burned hole in his foot. The others flinched, backing away, but Amala crouched next to the Krakoshan and slipped the pistol's barrel into the Krakoshan's mouth.

"Ghe ta'vor sslek," she repeated.

Tears of pain and anger welled in the pilot's eyes, but he nodded in compliance.

Amala smiled, patting his cheek.

"Thank you," she said. Then to the rest of her group, "Clear the bodies out. It's already starting to stink in here.

______________________________________________

As a developing writer, I'm very open to criticism, so feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments. And as always, if you enjoyed reading, click the ⭐ button to help promote this story!