Sneak Peek - The Last Angel: The Hungry Stars, Chapter 51 (Patreon)

Raul’s head was pounding like he’d spent the night picking a fight with every single person in a bar, and lost each time. He blinked, briefly wondering if he was dead. No, he couldn’t be dead. Only being alive could hurt this much. His vision swam as he raised his head, requiring a moment before it cleared. Box Witch’s cockpit was filled by the harsh orange of emergency lights, control panels flickering, flashing red warnings or fritzing with static.

Outside was completely dark, and it took him a few moments to realize what he was looking at. He was buried. How did he get buried? There’d been a crash, but... like a flash of light going off inside his skull, he remembered the last few minutes. The plan. The sabotage. Ramming the League shuttle.

He looked around. The main canopy was cracked and pitted, but still intact. One of the flickering display screens showed multiple minor air leaks. Cabin pressure was dropping. So was the internal temperature as Box Witch slowly leaked her life out through cracks and pinhole breaches. Well... his life. The shuttle would keep going long after he ran out of breath.

“What do you have in you?” he asked to the cold, thinning air. Speaking sent spikes of pain through his chest. He was sure that several ribs were broken. He was sure his skull was fractured, too. The wave of wooziness that came over him every time he moved his head even a fraction too fast spoke of a concussion. Internal bleeding too. He’d come down hard, but he was still alive.

Several thrusters were still operational and fortune seemed to be with him. She could have hit hard enough to bore deep through the substrate and if it collapsed behind her... she had some kick left, but not enough to dig herself out her own grave. Fortunately, he hadn’t been going that fast; Box Witch’s rear end was still sticking out into space.

Möller let out another precious breath. He didn’t dare unbuckle from the pilot’s seat. Internal gravity was down and if he rolled or spun too fast, he’d black out. He doubted he’d wake up from that. He was lucky that he’d gotten this second chance. “Come on baby,” he coaxed as the shuttle rumbled and groaned in displeasure as it backed out the cavern it had made. She was clunky at the helm, but still responding. “Good girl,” he said, giving Box Witch heartfelt thanks with another of his ever-decreasing breaths. To his right was the emergency locker. It would have a rebreather and mask, but it was just out of reach. “Come on,” he coaxed the transport shuttle, feeling her tug on the helm. Damage to the flight control surfaces, damage to forward thrusters, damage to the fuel distribution system, damage to.... everything, just everything.

As Raul got his bearings and looked outside the damage canopy, his jaw dropped. Wrapped in torn moorings, a League destroyer emerged from the hangar’s open mouth, its narrow prow pointed up towards space. It fired back into the bay, but didn’t slow, rising from the moon’s surface towards freedom.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered as he gunned Box Witch’s engine. “They did it.”