EPISODE 9

Betraying God

Before he could move his accelerator joystick, the Justicar jumped into the system. A red light flashed on his screen: an incoming emergency message.

“Computer, play on audio,” Drin said.

“Templar Drin. You have illegally stolen church property in viper fighter XG-3. Return immediately to our bay. Confess your sins and explain yourself.”

A squadron of fighters poured out of the Justicar’s shuttle bay, heading toward Drin.

At this point, it was too late. He’d gone too far to be allowed to return without severe repercussions. Drin leaned into the joysticks, shooting his vessel forward. The stars turned to a blur behind him. He hadn’t made precise calculations, but he didn’t have time for anything more. The Justicar followed.

“If you will not comply, we will disable you. Stand down, Templar,” came the voice of the Justicar’s conn officer through his comm unit.

Drin rushed toward the planet. His only hope would be to land there. The Justicar would be able to follow him otherwise. Konsin II had a burnt red-orange hue, with green bands around it, just as the computer had described. He guided his viper directly toward the planet.

The planet spun slowly but wrapping around the eastern side came two capital vessels. Their looming designs jolted Drin to his core. He’d seen them many times: Sekarans.

Drin jerked on the controls, pushing his viper to a trajectory that would take him to the right and above their plane. There was nowhere for him to run. He was trapped between his own people and the enemy.

A volley of laser fire came from the Sekaran ships.

They could hardly target Drin from this distance. The bolts shot past him, toward the Justicar and its deployed fighters. His people returned fire, no longer focused on Drin.

With the Elorian comm channel still open, Drin could hear the Justicar’s conn officer barking orders to his fighters. “We’re not prepared for a fight against two Sekaran dreadnaughts. Fighters pull back. Leave Templar Drin to meet his fate for betraying God.”

Betraying God.

Those words stung. He wanted to speak into the comm and contest those words, but it wouldn’t do any good. The whole reason he was out here was that he trusted God and wanted to do more to follow a new path the Lord provided him. It had to be better than to continue endless missions of slaying people, even if they were foreign heretics.

Drin hit the accelerator again. His only chance of survival was to get to the planet and get off this ship. It was good his people followed him and provided a distraction. He’d have to hope the Sekaran dreadnaughts would ignore the lone fighter and pursue the Justicar long enough for him to hide. No, he wouldn’t just hope. Drin mouthed a silent prayer. Lord, if this truly be your will, keep me from harm so that I might serve you.

The planet grew in front of him, soon filling his vision from the cockpit. The Sekaran ships ignored Drin just as he’d hoped, pursuing the larger vessel and its squadron of fighters. They continued their barrage of laser fire as they advanced in what appeared to be slow motion, the capital ships dwarfing the fighters with their hulking size.

Something struck his viper. It should have been impossible at this range, with the Sekaran ships behind him, but a stray laser bolt must have come from the Justicar’s fighters. Impossible odds or not, he’d been hit, and his console flashed red. The XG-3 flashed a code for systems trouble. Its engines were failing.

Instead of a smooth transition into the atmosphere, Drin shook at the full resistance of going from vacuum to the thick atmosphere. Konsin II had a windy climate in the upper atmosphere, which didn’t help as his fighter was thrown by several meters in his descent. The viper shook and rocked through the air as he futilely tried to regain control.

Worse was the heat from the reentry. He barely noticed it at first, his nanite armor protecting him from the onset, but something must have gone wrong with his viper’s shielding. The whole front of the craft heated to a reddish color, as if he had entered metal into a forge. This was bad. He’d taken the wrong trajectory, perhaps an even worse error than not having planned a proper hyperspace departure.

He prayed again. Even though he might be asking God for too much, surely if this was His will, Drin could yet survive this hardship. Sweat poured down his cheeks. The flight controls became hot to the touch. The fighter wouldn’t be able to take much more punishment.

He pierced through the upper atmosphere and into the clouds. The XG-3 cooled as quickly as it had heated. But the controls were dead. Down he went, far too fast for a safe landing. He slammed his fists into his joysticks, which seemed to reactivate them. Desperately, he tried to pull the ship’s nose up, which worked to a small degree, but the ship still fell far too fast. He had to hope for a flat landing somewhere.

The landscape ahead had a few mountains, rocky and desert with a full spectrum of different red and orange colors to it. It would have been breathtaking if he could have concentrated on the view. He looked for somewhere he could let the craft drag and not get killed from hitting something in the process.

Drin turned hard to the right, spotting a flat area in the desert. He passed a few huts and buildings before passing into a view of nothing but open desert sand. This was where he would land.

The fighter hit the ground in a loud crash. It slid across the sand, dragging across the desert on its side, kicking up more dust than he’d seen in the aftermath of explosions of the Nemayr invasion. His cockpit clouded with dirt, making it impossible to see. The windshield cracked.

Drin held on for dear life.