FAST MOVERS (Revised on 6/29/24)

Standing in the waist deep surf, Moss peered up from his unmarked body to the hut in the distance. When had Lilith found the time to construct a hut, and why wasn't he hurt? Those were just a few of the many questions cycling through his mind. And the more he mulled them over, the more things just didn't add up. He knew he should be dead. Lilith had certain abilities. Abilities, she refused to confide with him. But whatever was happening here was some next level shit. He should be dead. There was no way around that fact. But here he was, safe and sound. 

As Moss scrubbed the dirt from his body, he expected to find some ghastly injury, or at least an array of cuts and bruises. There were none. Even the earlier signs of his broken arm had vanished. And so had the throbbing pain beneath the skin.

Lilith stood in the hut, peering out through a crack in the door, watching Moss wash. She shook her head, chastised herself mentally. What have you done? Why are you always putting her own selfish desires ahead of what you know is the right course of action? It doesn't matter how long you live if you never learn from your mistakes.

A series of staccato thoughts struck Moss like a runaway train. Each successive impact, slamming the next realization home, one crumpling boxcar at a time. Holy shit! She's alive. I'm alive. We're not dead. Moss jumped up and down in the surf, running along the beach, kicking up sprays of gritty water and screaming in joy.

He skidded to a stop, reeled around and rampaged towards the hut like a naked lunatic. A single thought replaced all others. She's in there. He was bent on making certain Lilith was real and not a figment of some fever pitched death dream. She's in there; he thought. She has to be. He focused on the closed doorway, needing to get to the woman he loved on the other side before the last sparking neurons still fighting to hold on to life fizzled out and everything went black forever. 

Moss burst into the small hut, not registering Lilith's sun bleached hair, caramel complexion, or opalescent shade of oh-my-god-they're-beautiful green eyes.

Some time between her injury, his fall off the slippery cliff-side, and subsequent popping out in God-knows-where, Lady Hemmingford had undergone a radical transformation. Gone was her jet black hair, alabaster skin and stark black eyes. The woman in front of him was all things tropical splendor, bleached sunlight and scantily wrapped adolescent schoolboy fantasy.

Moss stood in the doorway naked, light spilling in behind him, creating a revealing shadow. He didn't remember he was naked. He wouldn't have cared if he did. Lilith was there, bathed in light and very much alive. A peaceful thought occurred to him. Maybe this is Heaven.

Lilith looked him up and down, showing no sign of shock. She was unreadable. At least, that hadn't changed. Lilith guarded her feelings at the best of times.

"We need to talk," she said, in an unreadable tone Moss never liked. He either ignored it or didn't register it. She was almost in his grasp. 

"You're alive," he said, more to himself. He dared across the sand floor, opening his arms wide and gaining speed with every step. He meant to grab Lilith, kiss her full on the mouth and would have succeeded, if not for the fact she disappeared with a pop-whooshing sound.

Moss's eyes bugged out. The hut wall grew larger, and he bounced off it full force, landing on his backside. An explosive rush of air escaped his mouth, and he grabbed his ribs.

Lilith popped back into sight, leaning over him as he gulped in air like a beached carp. "Perhaps we could talk before you get too excited?"

"Excited," he repeated in a croaking wheeze. He glared up at her as if she had attacked him. "What are you doing?"

Moss rolled onto his knees with a groan and forced himself upright. He stood up, steadying himself on the hut wall and managing a weak hunch. He reached around and wiped a handful of sand out of an area grit should never invade. "God dammit," he tried to blare in her face. "What's the deal with the disappearing act?" He limped past her, heading towards the cool, cleansing water in the gentle surf and amended his prior thought to this is Hell.

"I know Harper Moss." Lilith said matter-of-factly. "But you are not him. You are not my Harper Moss. He died long ago."

He stopped in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb and forced himself upright and said, "I'm Harper Moss. And you're making no sense." He waved his hand in front of his own face. "See. It's me. Right here. Harper Moss."

"If only it were true," she replied, as a melancholy smile touched her lips. She regarded him longingly and made to touch his face, but drew her hand back at the last second. "I thought it could be as it was. But I was wrong. I have made a terrible mess of things."

"Mess," he repeated, bewildered by her new persona. "What are you saying? You shouldn't have saved me?"

"It is forbidden," she replied. "I thought you'd… I thought I'd…" She looked away, struggling to maintain composure. "What have I done?"

In the long silence that followed, Moss realized, whoever this woman was, she was not Lilith Hemmingford. At least, not the Lilith Hemmingford he knew and loved. 

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I did it to myself." When she continued, he held up his hand. "Hold that thought. I'll be right back." He grimaced, held his stomach again, and limped away.

"I missed you." Lilith said, stepping to the side. 

Moss offered the shadow of a smile. He didn't understand.

________________________________

Dahl ran through the dense jungle, jagged leaves and whipping branches tearing at her skin and face. Neither pain nor obstacles would slow her down. Death followed behind her. In the too-near distance, the sound of gravity rifles exploded like launching mortar shells. Large swaths of shredded greenery flew over her head, covering her in dirty green chlorophyll. She wasn't trying to outrun her oversized chasers, just lead them away from the clearing. There was an uneven battle going on back there, and diverting half the enemy forces away from her vulnerable teammates seemed like a good idea. She wasn't so sure if it was still a good idea, now that half a dozen mountain sized psychopaths with overpowered rifles were trying to end her.

A wild, rampaging blast skimmed past Dahl, yanking out a swatch of hair and scalp. The searing pain left in its wake was huge and bright. It pitched her forward, but just before face planting, she grabbed hold of a nearby sapling, slowing her enough to remain upright. She paused for a split second before exploding into an all-out run. If she hadn't been trying to lose her chasers before, she certainly was now. She had let them get too close.

A warm line of coppery blood trickled down Dahl's back as she poured on the speed. After five minutes of flat out sprinting, she had pulled a considerable distance ahead of her lumbering chasers. But she was gasping for air and barely aware of where she was going. Her body leaned forward as if caught in an endless, out of control running fall. Dahl knew they hurt her, but she also knew her injuries were not life threatening. She wanted to keep it that way. 

Just ahead, Dahl saw a splash of light blue sky filter in through the thinning foliage and knew she was almost out. She aimed her barely controlled fall in that direction, wild flying footsteps barely touching the jungle floor. One misstep and Dahl was going down hard.

With a little luck, Dahl could enter the surf, turn due south, and use the shallow waves to mask her trail before her chasers emerged onto the beach. With a little luck, she may make it back to the clearing in time to help the prisoners.

The sound of waves came through the dense underbrush. Dahl was closing on her goal. She burst through the edge of the jungle, struck a knee high rock and cartwheeled out towards the edge of the water. Dahl struck the ground, flipping over onto her back and sliding to a stop. Something huge and dark loomed over her. She blinked and wiped the sand from her eyes.

The beast standing over her let out a deep, reverberating snort and reached towards her. Its enormous shadow blotted out the light, and Dahl peered at it in utter horror. She screamed and crab-walked backwards. It followed, but did not grab her. A few feet away, she slammed into what she thought was a tree. But as she moved around it, she looked up and found herself pinned between two giant creatures similar to Eve's alter-ego. But much larger. She threw up her hands in a warding off gesture that made the creatures look at one another and shake their heads.

"Dahl," an unfamiliar voice sounded in her head. And before she knew what was happening, a young woman was kneeling in front of her, pulling her hands away from her face.

"Let go," Dahl screamed, and shoved Carolyn back.

"They're coming," Carolyn shouted, looking up at her two companions. But they were already racing off in the direction Dahl tumbled out of the brush. They already knew they were, she thought. They could read their minds from here. And with that, a strange thought occurred to Carolyn. The mother of paradoxes. Maybe they are not like me. Maybe I'm like them.

Gunfire mixed with screams of rage and agony, and a moment later, the jungle fell silent. Carolyn couldn't pick up any thoughts. Human or other.

South of Dahl and Carolyn's position, one of the transformed raptors pushed through the bushes with half a severed upper torso in its grip. A smoking weapon hung from the lifeless grip.

In the opposite direction, the second creature stepped out of the jungle, dragging the lower half of a man. A bloody trail snaked back toward the rending confrontation.

Both creatures hurled the remains at one another. The two shredded halves collided mid-air with a sickening thwap and fell on the sand between Dahl and Carolyn. Dahl didn't flinch.

"At least one of them didn't get away," she said, standing up and walking towards the surf.

"I believe the little human meant to say, two of them didn't get away."

Dahl stopped, took a deep breath, trying to focus her swirling thoughts. Another monster that speaks, she thought, shaking her head. This system sucks. She turned to the creature, squinting at it, eyes lasering into its thick black hide. Now that she inspected, she was certain whoever he was, he must be one of Lilith's or Eve's friends. "Stop bragging. You're three times his size and he did not know you were there. That's hardly impressive."

"It's not my fault humans are puny and cannot read their surroundings." Its cohort gave out a burst of laughter that prickled Dahl's ire. She smiled politely, walked up to the creature and poked it in the stomach. Surprised, it hopped back, tripped over the lower half of the severed torso and landed on its ass. Dahl leaned down and said, "Arrogance is an ugly look, even on a face like yours."

The creature turned to its comrade with an all too human expression of shock plastered across its face. Dahl was certain if its face weren't pitch black, its head would have shown a blazing fire engine red. It pulled itself into a crouched position like a rattlesnake preparing to strike. But Dahl refused to flinch away. She glared at it, daring it to jump. She was done with running; done with screaming in horror. And all the while, the creature did not read the slightest sense of fear in her.

"Get up," a strangely familiar voice said from behind her. "Before you make yourself more ridiculous than you already do."

"Auntie. I thought you were dead." Dahl said, reeling around.

________________________________

Lockspur sat in the pilot's seat, engaging several of the preflight subsystems. He couldn't fly the damn thing, but nobody in the universe knew more about ship functions than him. He could take the ship apart and put it back together again in the dark, and make it better than when he began.

The bridge hatch opened and two 7 foot tall not men walked in and looked around. They were much more humanoid looking than Lilith's compatriots. But they were completely black from head to toe. A black that seemed to suck in all the surrounding light. They looked more like moving shadows than flesh and blood creatures.

"I'm glad your brother's okay." Lockspur said, gesturing for the two newcomers towards the crew seats. "The auto-doc told me it was close."

"We need to get down there," the shorter creature said to his companion. "The Queen is undoubtedly in danger."

Lockspur spun around in his seat and looked them over. "I see your speech has improved." He shook his head as if to say, of course it has. "And apparently you've learned English."

"Not true," the larger creature said. "We have known the sacred language since the day of our births."

"English… sacred," Lockspur replied and choked out a sarcastic laugh. "What's wrong with Comanche? That seems sacred to me."

"Do you have names?" Lockspur asked, spinning back around and hastily pressing several switches. The sounds of engines spinning up to speed filled the vessel.

The taller male said, "I am Klar; my kinsman is Vash."

"Can you get down there without killing us?" Vash demanded.

Lockspur thought it wise to consider his reply carefully before answering. Blurting out a sparky come back when your opponent is 7 feet tall may not be the best idea. But in the end, he couldn't help himself. "Or not," he said, looking at Klar with a smirk and a shrug.

But it wasn't Klar who responded. It was Vash, and to Lockspur's considerable relief, he laughed and said, "Sarcasm in the face of an unbeatable foe. I like this human."

Lockspur's eyebrow went up. "Are we foes? Is there something you're not telling me? Aye, amigos?"

Both Klar and Vash let out booming laughs that made Lockspur equal parts amused and unsure of their true intentions. Either way, he figured it didn't matter. He couldn't fight them off, and he was going to need them down there, if he or his comrades were ever going to see the surface again.

Lockspur gestured to the co-pilot and engineer's seats and said, "Take your seats. And strap in. This is going to be a bumpy ride."

Both Vash and Klar sat down. The near giants looked utterly comical, like adults crammed into the tiny children's seats. Lockspur fought down the oncoming urge to laugh. They struggled to pull the seat belts over their shoulders and then settled for knotting the belts around their waists. Lockspur rolled his eyes at the absurdity. "Just try to hold on."

Klar leaned over and whispered something that could have been, "I was planning to." Vash threw him a shut up look and Lockspur smiled.

He turned around, reached out to press a green button, and saw his two passengers lean back in their seats. Klar grabbed the consoles in front of him. Lockspur knew what he was feeling. As his finger crept towards the button, the look of anticipation on Vash's face grew until his eyes were bulging. Lockspur pounded the switch and both of his teammates lurched in their seats.

"What went wrong?" Vash asked.

"There's nothing wrong. I just need to address the troops," Lockspur answered. An electronic tone emanated from a nearby speaker. "Senoritas and Senors," Lockspur said. "This is your pilot speaking. We're going to be departing shortly. I suggest you all find a secure place to sit during our descent into the core. This will be rough." He smiled and winked at Klar and Vash. "In the event of a catastrophic hull breach, please place your heads firmly between your legs and kiss your asses goodbye. And, as always, thank you for flying Hemmingford space lines where your safety is always our top priority."

"Is he fucking serious?" Vash asked. Klar shook his head no and laughed loudly, but never let go of the console in front of him.

Lockspur pressed another button and a loud bang came from somewhere outside. Smoke rose in front of the windscreen and drifted away. A split second later, a proximity probe flew away towards the shaft.

"Where's it going?" Vash asked.

"To map the shaft. It's our eyes."

"You're not flying?" Klar blurted.

"Never learned how."

The probe soared out over the deep hole, a red laser scanned the mouth of the shafts and it dropped into the descending void. As it mapped the shaft's contours, a wire frame picture of the walls appeared on a screen beside Lockspur.

 "Who's flying the ship?" Vash demanded.

"I repurposed the auto-doc's AI to create a fully upgraded auto-pilot capable of in-flight maneuvering. It should keep us centered in the shaft during our descent."

"Should?" Klar replied.

 "Hopefully."

"Hopefully," Vash repeated.

"There are a few… minor problems. The probe is a repurposed mining unit, used to map asteroid fields. It's a cheap piece of shit made for open space and it can't transmit its findings through rock. So, we can't let it get over 10 or 12 kilometers ahead of us. Unfortunately, at that speed, if it finds a blockage, we won't have time to stop before we're bugs on a windshield. So, I programmed it to fire a short-range missile armed with a low grade nuke. That should clear the blockage."

"You want to fly through a shitstorm of swirling fallout?"

"It's better than ending up as guts on somebody's windshield. Besides, this pretty lady has state-of-the-art electronic shielding."

"And if the shielding fails?"

"Hey, I never said it was a perfect plan. But unless you have a better one. It is the plan we're going with."

"Fine. What's the plan?"

"I routed the probes onboard telemetry into the autopilot's AI system. The probe will track the ship in relation to the shaft walls. That way, the AI can make real time course corrections, keeping us in the middle of the shaft as we descend. The only foreseeable problem is that the probe may not have a GPU fast enough to make simultaneous course corrections for both us and itself. If that's the case-"

"Bugs on a windscreen." Vash said.

"Anything else we should know?" Klar asked.

"If our descent rate becomes too fast, we could overtake the probe and destroy it. Its short range thrusters are only meant for limited use. If the core is more than a few hundred kilometers down, the probe will run out of fuel before we reach the bottom. And again-"

"Bugs on a windshield."

"Anything else."

"There's always that one thing you can't see coming," Lockspur replied, spinning around to face them. "I don't suppose either of you has ever learned how to fly?"

"We were raptors, of course we can fly." Vash replied in an offended tone.

"Can you fly a ship?"

"No."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Lockspur said, spinning around and tapping the monitor in front of him. "Hold on. The probe is holding 10 kilometers down. We're ready to go."

The lights throughout the ship went a warning amber, and a computerized voice said, "Attention: Launch in T-Minus 10… 9… 8…"

"He's ready to go," Klar whispered

Lockspur looked over his shoulder and said, "Now would be a good time to say a prayer, if either of you believe in that sort of thing."

"3… 2… 1… Launch."

Moss burst into the small hut, not registering Lilith's sun bleached hair, nearly caramel color skin, or that her eyes had gone an opalescent shade of oh-my-god-they're-beautiful green.

Some time between Lilith's injury, the team's risky trek down into the inner chamber, moss' fall off the slippery cliff-side and subsequently popping out here, Lady Hemmingford had undergone a radical transformation. Gone was her typically jet black hair, alabaster skin and stark black eyes. The woman in front of Moss, whoever she was, was all things tropical splendor and bleached sunlight.

But Moss, still in a near daze, wasn't thinking about the hows and whys. He was thinking with a different head. And that part of his body was also excited to be alive and attentive.. Very alert.

During his earlier jaunt into the cool, clear water, Moss had struggled to make sense of when Lilith had found the time to construct a hut. Or why she thought she needed one? It's not like either of them had the time to lounge around on the beach. This wasn't a vacation. This was a mission. And what they needed to do was collect the team and get off-world. And get off world, now. They definitely did not have time to drink daiquiris outside a seaside siesta hut.

Standing in the waist deep surf, Moss peered from his unmarked body to the hut and back again. How could he be unhurt? Things were not adding up. He knew well that Lilith had certain abilities. Abilities she had long refused to discuss with him. But whatever was happening here was some next level shit.

As he scrubbed the dirt from his body, he expected to find some ghastly injury, or at least the remnants of a jagged cut. But there was nothing.

Then a series of staccato thoughts struck him like a runaway train. Each successive thought, slamming the next realization home, one crumpling car at a time. Holy shit! She's alive. I'm alive. We're alive. He jumped up and down in the surf, running along the beach, kicking up sprays of water and screaming in joy.

He spotted the shack in his peripheral vision, skid to a stop, reeled around and took off, rampaging towards the hut like a naked lunatic. A single thought replaced all others. She's in there. He was hell bent on making certain he wasn't trapped in some kind of fever dream. She's in there; she has to be, he thought, reassured himself. Moss focused on the closed doorway, needing to get to the woman he loved before the sparking neurons still fighting to hold on to life fizzled out and everything went black forever. He desperately wanted her to be there, but was certain he was dead.

Then he was there, standing naked in the open doorway, light spilling in behind him, creating a revealing shadow. He didn't realize he was naked. He wouldn't have cared if he did. She was there. Waiting.

Lilith looked him up and down, but showed no signs of shock or enticement. She was unreadable. That much had not changed.

"We need to talk," she said, in an authoritative tone he had never liked but didn't notice. She was here. In his grasp. And very much alive and well.

Moss darted across the sand floor, arms wide and gaining speed. He meant to grab her and kiss her full on the mouth, but as he neared, she disappeared. Poof. Pop. Gone. His eyes went wide. The hut wall grew larger. He struck it full force, bouncing off and landing on his backside. An explosive woof of air escaped his mouth, and he grabbed his ribs.

Lilith reappeared behind him, bent over and peered down as he gulped in air like a beached carp. "Perhaps we could talk before we get to know each other?"

"Get to know each other?" he wheezed, still holding his stomach. He glared up at her as if she had attacked him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Moss rolled onto his knees with a groan and forced himself to stand. He barely managed a weak hunch before wiping sand out of an area it should never invade. "God dammit," he blared and grabbed his stomach. "What's the deal with the disappearing act?" he said, limping towards the open door.

"I know Harper Moss." she admitted, matter-of-factly. "But you are not the man I know. You are not my Harper Moss. He died long ago."

"Lilith." he said, genuinely believing there was something wrong with her. "You're not making any sense. I'm Harper Moss." he waved his hand in front of her face. She didn't seem to notice. "See. It's me. I'm right here."

"If only you were," she said, as a melancholy smile touched her face. She regarded him longingly and made to touch his face, but pulled her hand back. "I thought it could be as it was, but I was wrong to do this. I have made a terrible mess of things."

"Made a mess," he repeated, bewildered by her new persona. "What are you saying? You shouldn't have saved me?"

"It was forbidden," she replied. "I thought you'd… I thought I'd…" She looked away, struggling not to cry.

In the long silence that followed, he realized, whoever this woman was, she was not Lilith Hemmingford. At least, not the Lilith Hemmingford he knew and loved. Fuck, this is crazy, he thought. What the hell is going on here? I'm dead, after all?

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

He smiled weakly and held up a trembling hand. She saw he was in pain and that he just wanted to get to the surf. Get to water. The cool, cleansing water. He limped past her in little shambling steps filled with grating discomfort. "I'll be back in a minute. I need to wash my..." He grimaced and held his stomach tighter.

"I missed you."

"Please… Just… one… minute." he said, stressing each word with a pause.

Lilith stepped to the side and gestured for him to go through the open doorway. But as he passed, she said, "I am sorry."

He offered her the shadow of a smile, but said nothing. She watched him limp into the surf and dive beneath the waves, more confused than ever.

Dahl ran through the dense jungle, jagged leaves and whipping branches tearing at her skin and face. But neither pain nor obstacle would slow her down. Behind her, in the too-near distance, the sound of gravity rifles erupted like bombs. Large swaths of shredded greenery flew over her head, covering her in dirty green spray. She wasn't trying to outrun her oversized chasers, just lead them away from the clearing. There was an uneven battle going on back there, and diverting half the enemy forces away from her vulnerable teammates seemed like a good idea. She wasn't so sure if it was still a good idea, now that half a dozen mountain sized psychopaths with overpowered rifles were trying to kill her.

A wild, rampaging blast skimmed past Dahl, yanking out a swatch of scalp and hair. The searing pain left in its wake was huge and bright. It pitched her forward, but just before face planting, she grabbed hold of a nearby sapling, slowing her forward momentum enough for her to remain upright. She paused for a split second before exploding into an all-out run. If she hadn't been trying to lose her chasers before, she certainly was now.

A warm line of coppery blood trickled down Dahl's back, and she poured on the speed. After five minutes of flat out sprinting, she had pulled a considerable distance ahead of her lumbering chasers. But she was gasping for air and barely aware of where she was going. But she refused to slow. Dahl knew they hurt her, but she also knew that her injuries were not bad and she wanted to keep it that way. She had gotten cocky and let the Necros get too close and almost paid the ultimate price. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

Just ahead, Dahl saw a splash of light blue sky filter in through the thinning foliage and knew she was almost out. She increased her speed again, her wild flying footsteps barely touched the jungle floor. One misstep and Dahl was going down.

With a little luck, she could hit the surf, turn due south and use the shallow surf to mask her trail. A few hundred yards down the beach, she could double back into the jungle and head back towards the clearing. With a little more luck, maybe she could even make it back to the clearing in time to help her teammates.

The sound of waves came through the jungle, and Dahl saw untouched sand and water. She burst through the edge of the jungle, struck a knee high rock and cartwheeled out towards the surf, striking the ground, and flipping over onto her back. Something huge and dark loomed over her. She blinked and clumsily wiped sand from her eyes.

The beast standing over Dahl let out a deep, reverberating growl and reached towards her. Its enormous shadow blotted out the light, and Dahl peered up in horror. She screamed and crab-walked backwards. The creature followed her, but did not grab or catch her. A few feet away, she slammed into something immense and suddenly found herself pinned between two giant creatures. She threw up her hands in a warding off gesture that made the creature shake its head and roll its eyes.

"Dahl," an unfamiliar voice shouted from near the surf. And before she knew what was happening, a young woman was kneeling in front of her and pulling her hands down.

Lockspur sat in the pilot's seat, turning on several subsystems. He couldn't fly the ship, but nobody in the universe knew more about ship functions than him. He could take a ship apart and put it back together again in the dark, and it would be better than when he started

The main bridge hatch opened and two 7 foot tall not men walked in and looked around. They were much more humanoid looking than Lilith's compatriots. But they were completely black from head to toe. The kind of black that seemed to suck in all the surrounding light. They looked like moving shadows.

"I'm glad your brother is going to be okay." Lockspur said, gesturing for the newcomers towards the crew seats. "I heard it was close. It appears your brother is quite strong."

"We need to get down there now," the shorter creature said to his companion. "The Queen could be in grave danger."

Lockspur spun around in his seat, looked them up and down, and said, "I see your speech has improved." He shook his head as if to say, of course it has. "And apparently you've learned how to speak English."

"Not true," the larger creature said. "We have known the sacred language since the day of our births."

"English," Lockspur replied and choked out a sarcastic laugh. "The sacred language. I think not. What's wrong with Comanche? That seems like a sacred language to me."

"Do you have names?" Lockspur asked, spinning back around and hastily pressing several switches. The sounds of engines spinning up to speed filled the vessel.

The taller male said, "My name is Klar, and my kinsman is called Vash."

"Can you get down there without killing us or not?" Vash demanded.

Lockspur thought it wise to consider his reply carefully before answering. Blurting out a sparky come back when your opponent is 7 feet tall may not be the best idea. But in the end, he couldn't help himself. "Or not," he said, looking at Klar with a smirk and a shrug.

But it wasn't Klar who responded. It was Vash, and to Lockspur's considerable relief, he laughed and said, "Sarcasm in the face of an unbeatable foe. I like this human."

Lockspur's eyebrow went up, and he said, "Foes are we, amino? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Both Klar and Vash let out booming laughs that made Lockspur equal parts amused and unsure of their true intentions. Either way, he figured it didn't matter. He couldn't fight them off, and he was probably going to need them down there, if he or his comrades were ever going to see the surface again.

Lockspur gestured to the co-pilot and engineer's seats and said, "Take a seat. And strap yourselves in. This is going to be a bumpy ride."

Both Vash and Klar sat down and Lockspur had to fight down an oncoming urge to laugh hysterically. They looked like oversized adults stuffed into children's seats. They struggled comically to pull the seat belts over their shoulders and then settled for knotting the belts across their laps. Lockspur rolled his eyes at the absurdity and said, "Just hold on."

Klar leaned over and whispered something that could have been, "I was planning to." Vash threw him a shut up look and Lockspur smiled.

He turned around, reached out to press a green button, and saw his two passengers lean back in their seats. Klar grabbed the consoles in front of him. He knew what he was feeling all too well and thought, how do I always end up in these situations? As his finger crept towards the button, the look of anticipation on Vash's face grew until his eyes were bulging. Lockspur pounded the switch and both of his teammates lurched in their seats.

"What went wrong?" Vash asked.

"Nothing. Just need to address the troops," Lockspur answered. An electronic tone emanated from a nearby speaker and, Lockspur added, "Senoritas and Senors, this is your not pilot speaking. We're going to be departing shortly. I suggest you all find a secure place to sit during our descent into the core." He smiled and winked at Klar and Vash, and added, "Let me remind you that in the event of a catastrophic hull breach, please place your heads firmly between your legs and kiss your asses goodbye. And, as always, thank you for flying Hemmingford space lines where your safety is always our top priority."

"Is he fucking serious?" Vash asked Klar. Klar shook his head no and laughed loudly, but never let go of the console in front of him.

Lockspur pressed another button and a loud bang came from somewhere outside. Smoke rose in front of the windscreen and drifted away. A proximity buoy flew out over the deep hole and a red laser scanned the black void. It mapped the shafts' walls a half mile ahead and slowly a wire frame picture of the shift appeared on a screen beside Lockspur.

"What's that?"

"I retrofit the proximity buoy to race ahead of us and map out our path. We don't need any surprises on the way down."

"Smart move."

"There are a few problems, though. The buoy is a cheap piece of shit. It can't scan through rock. It's made for open space. And it can't transmit its findings back through rock. So, we can't let it get over 10 or 12 kilometers ahead of us. If it finds a blockage, we're all fucked. We won't have time to slow down before we're bugs on a windshield."

"What's the point?"

"I routed the buoy's onboard telemetry into the navigation system. In particular, the autopilot function. The buoy will track the ship in relation to itself and the shaft walls. That way, the nav system can make real time course corrections, keeping us in the middle of the shaft as we descend. Another problem is that the buoy may not have a CPU fast enough to make simultaneous course corrections for both us and itself. And if that's the case- "

"Bugs on a windscreen." Vash said.

"Anything else we should know?" Klar asked.

"If our descent rate becomes too fast, we could overtake the buoy and destroy it. Its short range thrusters are only meant for use during docking maneuvers. And only for a limited time. If the core is more than a few hundred kilometers down. The buoy could run out of fuel before we get down. And again-"

"Bugs on a windshield."

"Anything else."

"Sure," Lockspur replied, spinning around to face them. "I don't suppose either of you has ever learned to fly?"

"We're raptors, of course we can fly." Bask replied in an offended tone.

"A ship?"

"No."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Lockspur said, spinning around and tapping the monitor in front of him.

The lights throughout the ship went a warning amber, and a computerized voice said, "Attention: Launch in T-Minus 10… 9… 8…"

Lockspur looked over his shoulder and said, "Now would be a good time to say a prayer, if either of you believe in that sort of thing."

"3… 2… 1… Launch."