From Hell to Hotter Waters

By D. Lazerous

It is said that we all have a journey to undertake, challenges to overcome, new friends to make, old friends to lose, lovers to love and to morn when they pass.  We're born, we live, we love, and we die.  Life is a journey we all have to make, we can only hope that were on the right path.

-D. Lazerous

          Regardless of what you may have been told, or what you may have read, what you are about the read is not a work of fiction.  This is truth.  I would go so far as to say that residing in these pages is a first hand historical account of a hopeless battle and the destruction of an entire world in an attempt to defeat the enemy.  My people were so convinced of our own superiority that we couldn’t see past our own shortsightedness.  We believed nothing was beyond our capability and that we naturally would come out the victor in any confrontation.  Unfortunately, this belief led to complacency, then to ruin.  It was this kind of thinking the led my people to their fate, spread across existence like so much butter scrapped thin across bread.  Even now as I recall what happened, I find myself questioning how it all came to pass.  I’m constantly asking myself what I could have done differently.  What could I have done to save even a few of the many lives that were lost or maybe just one?

Chapter 1

          The stars seemed to whip by me as my ship flew to the front line.  My squadron had taken up a support position behind me to the left and right as we made our way to the latest engagement with our enemy of the past three years.  The Kilmarter, a blood thirsty race who’s only desire is to destroy what they cannot obtain.  The perfection of dimensional travel by my people attracted there unwanted attention.  At first they were diplomatic, wishing to negotiate for the technology but we were smarter than that.  An outpost several sectors away witnessed there form of diplomacy when another world gives into the demands of the Kilmarter.  The planet Chejon had developed a way to merge organic tissue with technology to produce a ship that was both machine and alive.  Not wanting to risk war, the Chejonian people gave in to the desires of the Kilmarter.  After getting what they wanted, they took this new technology and used it against the people of Chejon.  As a result, the once lush thriving planet of Chejon was reduced to a dead moon.  Armed with this knowledge, we refused the demands of the Kilmarter making it well known that they would not obtain or technology

          As we approached the enemy, my squadron broke formation to engage the individual fighters that rapidly bore down on our position.   I picked out a heavy fighter that was bearing down on a one of our cruisers.  As I toke up an aggressive position to defend the cruiser, my radar alerted me to three more Kilmarter fighters behind me.  The rush of adrenaline filled every cell of my being as the sleek almost organic ship bobbed and weaved to stay out of weapons range.  My hand griped the throttle bar tightly and I rammed it full open, gaining in speed upon my quarry.  Lining him up in my sights I squeezed the trigger, grinning as his ship exploded in a shower of fire and wreckage.  I executed a sharp loop coming in behind my three adversaries picking off two of them with missiles and setting the sites of my chain gun on the third.  A warning buzzer sounded from my radar, informing me that a missile had locked on to me.  Twisting and turning the vessel, I attempted to shake the missile off me.  No matter what I tried, the missile matched my movements as thought it was an extension of the craft.  My entire ship shook as the missile found its target in my left rear engine.  The resulting explosion caused my ship to twist and turn out of control.  Despite the loss of one of my engines I was able the right the ship using my maneuvering thrusters.  Taking a damage assessment, my left engine was destroyed and the right engine wasn’t in much better shape.  Checking my air supply, I grunted with disappointment as the computer read out informed me that my supply was low and leaking from the explosion.  Taking a quick assessment of my options, I realized that the carrier was too far away; my only chance for survival was to attempt a landing back on the planet.  Turning the jet around slowly with the few remaining maneuvering thrusters I aimed the nose of the ship toward the planet, a fired my right engine to full speed, accelerating as fast as I possibly could.  AS my jet approached the planet I looked all around me trying to see my adversary that so skillfully got the better of me.  There was no ship in site.  All my instrument readouts were shot for the most part so I had no sensors to scan for any vessel I couldn’t see readily.  Even the Kilmarter fighter I was chasing chose to escape rather then attack.  My craft shuddered as the hull made contact with the planets atmosphere.   My jet descended further and further, the friction of the air against the hull, heating the cockpit to temperatures rivaling the hottest desert.  The ships computer was gone and the avionics were non responsive.  The ailerons and directional funnel on the last reaming engine were sluggish at best but I tried my hardest to maneuver the jet towards an unpopulated area.  Executing a few sharp turns, I was able to burn off a lot of the speed I had accumulated along with half of my left wing.  Just off the horizon I could see the air control tower of my home base.  My ship at this point was no more than a glider.  **By some stroke of luck I had made it back to my home base, approaching the forest just outside of the city when a panel on the left side of the cockpit exploded.

          Groggy and disoriented I woke surrounded by trees and brush, much of it chard and burning.  I was still in my cockpit, the canopy was shattered, circuits popped and sparked all around me.  My chest was heavy; stabbing pains taunted me with every breath.  My left arm was burning with pain.  I hastened a look at the damaged limb; my arm was ripped up and bleeding badly.  A piece of the hull had been tore from a control panel and pierced my arm like a dagger.  Gritting my teeth hard I griped my wrist with my right hand, bracing myself, I pulled hard tearing my arm from the titanium spur.  I cried out in agony as the metallic knife sent new waves of searing pain coursing through my body.  Groping around the cockpit, I found the first aid compartment a brought out one of the large bandages binding my left arm as best I could.  I pulled my helmet off and let it fall to the ground.  My face was bathed in warmth.  I tried to inspect my head as best I could with what was left of the canopy glass.  Half my right ear was missing and my face was covered in my own blood gushing from a laceration next to my right temple.  Assessing my situation I could help but think to myself, ‘David, your pretty screwed.’  I knew I couldn’t stay in the jet forever, the plasma cell could breach at any moment if it hadn’t already.  I could smell the plasma fire coming from the fuel lines; it was only a matter of time before the whole jet went up.  Without warning, a stream of plasma fire shot out from the rear of the jet.  The fire had eaten through the hull and opened a small hole in the plasma cell.  As if by automatic I reached for the ejection lever and pulled.  The shattered canopy flew off and my seat was propelled through the tree canopy and into the clear air.  My half best bandage was yanked off by the force and I was knocked out by the force smashing my head against the back of the seat.

Chapter 2

          I woke from what seemed like an eternity of sleep.  Every inch of my body hurt, from my ears to my tail.  My mind as well as my vision was blurred and foggy.  I looked around a bit; I wasn’t in the forest anymore.  I was in a white room lying in a bed.  Feeling the tightness in my legs, I tried as best I could to stretch them out from under the blanket.  I took a deep breath despite the pain in my chest, and let out a sigh of relief.  My mind had started to clear allowing me to collect my thoughts.  I lay there taking in my surroundings.  I was in a typical room connected to several different machines each making their own dull toned noises.  I wiped the sleep from my eyes with my right hand and tried to sit up in bed propping myself up with my left, but something was wrong.  My left arm wouldn't move.  In fact I couldn't feel it at all.  I struggled to my left side ripping the blankets and sheets that covered the arm.  I saw something I thought could never happen to me.  My arm had been removed just above the elbow, leaving only a stub tightly wrapped in bandages.  “My arm,” I screamed, “where's my arm!”  A woman rushed into the room.

“Oh Christ, he's awake,” she yelled.  Running back to the door jam, she stuck her head out and yelled down the hall.  “I need help in here now!"   Three orderlies rushed into the room and dived onto the bed, holding me down. 

“My arm, where the fuck is my arm?” I yelled at the orderlies.

“Commander.”  The woman said, “You need to calm down.  Everything will be explained, alright, just please calm down."

“What did you butchers do to me?”  I continued yelling.

“Will you stop staring at him a give him the sedative before he rips my arm off!”  The woman yelled at the three orderlies.  Two of them pressed me down to the bed as the third injected a sedative into my right shoulder.          

I reawaked around what appeared to be sometime in the afternoon.  I tilted my head to look out the window; I could see the large orange sun sinking down beyond the horizon.  Gazing down at the end of my bed I found the same woman as before sitting by my feet writing in a file.  Really looking at her, I realized just how much of a beautiful vixen she was.  Her long brown hair had a bit of an unkempt look the flowed neatly back fitting between her pointed red ears and down her back.  Her green eyes were intoxicating.  The white lab coat she wore fit her neatly and only added to her allure.  Her fur from her muzzle and hands to her long bushy tail that lay across my bed, were the most perfect color of white and red-orange.  She flipped to a new page in her file and glanced over towards me with a slight look of surprise on her face.  “ Oh!  Good morning Commander."  I realized that I didn’t have my glasses on and quickly shut my eyes and turned my head. 

“Where are my glasses?”  I asked her.

“You did have a pair of shades in your flight suite when you came in, but the lights aren’t all that bright, you don’t need them.”  She said plainly.

“Get my glasses now!” I ordered.  I began to stir when she stopped me. 

"Calm down or I'll call for the orderlies again,” I did as she said.  "I can understand your confusion but if you give me the chance to explain I'm sure you'll understand."  I gritted my teeth in agitation.  She walked over to a closest where my personal effects were kept then handed me my glasses.  I put on my shades with a sigh of relief.

“What’s so important about those things?”  She asked.  “They’re just a cheep pair of shades.”

“It’s personal, now, what happened?"  I asked.

“From what I've read,” She said flipping to another page in her file.  “It seems that your Star Wraith had been badly damaged in the last engagement with the enemy and you crash landed in the north forest.  When you ejected your arm must have been caught in a small explosion and was damaged beyond repair.  The Space Force bases computers tracked your descent and rushed you here when they found your wreckage.  They said you were lucky that your ship didn't burn-up on re-entry."

“Luck had nothing to do with it.  I was knocked unconscious when a panel exploded.”  I said.  “I woke up after the crash, the jet was burning, and I ejected to avoid the explosion.”

“Actually that would explain a few of these injuries.”  She said.

“I’m sorry.”  I quickly apologized rubbing the temples on my forehead.  I looked away, not able to look her in the eye.  “This isn’t your fault, I, it’s just a bit much to take in right now.”

“Not at all, it's quite all right.  I can imagine what you must be going through, but you can't let that hinder your recovery.  Just take heart that by being transferred behind the lines the odds of this happening again are slim."

“What do you mean?”  I asked her irritated.

“I’m sorry I shouldn't have told you yet but your father, the king, visited the base and gave orders that you were not to go back into battle."  I pounded the bed with my right fist.

“That bastard.  He had no right to do that."  I said as I attempted to get up.  "Commander what are you doing, your in no shape to be moving about.  When you woke up the first time you had just come out of six hours of surgery!"

“No offense doctor, but if you’re not going to help me you'd better get out of my way."  I tried to get out of bed, but every time I got on my feet, I couldn't keep my balance.  Finally the doctor pushed me back on the bed with little if any effort.

"Even if you could stand on your own two feet for more than three seconds, where would you go?"  She asked me sternly.

“The palace, to knock some sense into my fathers’ hard head." I growled.

“Well, you’re not going any where until you learn to balance yourself again.  Loosing an arm throws off your entire center of gravity, not to mention all the other superficial injuries you suffered.  We'll be starting your rehab tomorrow morning, for now just try and get some sleep."  Realizing that the doctor was of course correct, I gave in to her demands.  Sleep was easier said than achieved but eventually I drifted off. 

          I was roused the next morning by the same doctor.  “Come now, you must be rested enough to at least roll out of bed."  She said with a half smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"  I asked her.

“It simply means that we have to see what you're able to do on your own before we fit you for a replacement."  She told me as she helped me into the wheelchair she had brought with her.

“A replacement what?"

“A replacement arm of course.  It's standard procedure."  She said mater of factly.

“I’ll not be getting one," I informed her.  “I don't believe in replacing parts of my body with machinery."

“Now Commander, don't make this any harder than it already is, I don’t want to have to sedate you again.”

“I don't care what you butchers call standard procedure; I won't be having a piece of clumsy machinery put on my body.  You might as well replace my soul with a computer program while you're at it."

“Commander that's hardly a fair comparison.  This hospital has been using robotic prosthesis devices for over twenty years.  It’s quite safe." 

“Safety be damned, I do not want a machine attached to my body!”   I yelled this time.  The argument raged on while I was being wheeled down the hall to the rehabilitation wing.  Finally she gave in as we entered the room I would be spending a good portion of my day.