Stranded on a Tiny Planet

Merco barely had time to react when the concussive force of the explosive coupled with the hot stinging mist of fluids and viscera hit him. He automatically rolled over, covering his head until the echoing sound slowly faded into the air. The shaking was there; loud noises always made him flinch if not tremble. Rolling over he sat back up, wiping a pink substance from his face. It wasn’t until he viewed the mangled, meaty framework of the mercenary laid over on the ground that he realized he was covered in a mist of his blood. He clenched his fist, trying to stop the shaking. It subsided quicker than he anticipated, most likely because it was an enemy and not one of his comrades who got blown to pieces.

It was over. The mission was a success.

He looked down at the broken remains of his prosthetic. It was surreal to see a once functioning part of himself now turned into a useless pile of junk. With slow movements he twisted the special ring that connected the device to the end of his arm. It clicked and the damaged part came free leaving his stump topped with an electronic, metal connector cap. The numbness was the most disturbing part. Even though his prosthetic didn’t register pain it still was connected to her nerves in such a way that we could detect pressure and texture. Feeling nothing was disconcerting.

Whistling cheers rose up from within the city and in the air.

In seconds Anu was in his view, “Merco! We did it!”

The man smiled and nodded, “Yeah. We did it. Are you ok?”

“A bit deaf...but I’ll be fine.” Her eyes grew almost horrified seeing Merco without his prosthetic arm, “Oh...Merco.”

He looked at his left stub and managed a gentle look, “Yeah. Kinda shocks me too.”

Merco suddenly noticed a small group of EFP members gathered not far from the mercenary’s remains. Painfully, Merco stood up and approached. It wasn’t until he was a couple steps away that he realized what had happened.

Commander Madala lay on the ground lifeless whilst a medic was urgently trying to revive her. Combatant Coroc stood nearby, trying to remain stolid.

“Oh no...” Merco whispered as he got on his knees.

The commander wasn’t responding at all and from the way her tiny head lolled every time the medic touched her, Merco knew she was gone. The impact of being swatted from the air by the mercenary was powerful and fatal. At last, the medic stopped her efforts, shaking her head with frustration.

The man sighed with regret for her, his eyes stinging. Though there were many times when she didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt and always aired on the side of caution when it came to matters involving him, he knew she cared deeply for her people and Anashee. Her sacrifice to safeguard it was proof of this and only emphasized her bravery.

Very softly he touched her little forehead with his finger, giving her plumage a stroke, “She saved us...all of us.” Merco mentioned quietly.

“Her heroism will be remembered by all of Anashee.” Coroc said solemnly, “She must be brought to our Elder.”

Several of the EFP began lifting her up but Merco held out his hand next to the tiny body, “I will take her.”

Coroc waved his arm and gestured to the capsule laying across the field, “We’ll take her. You should take the chrysalis pod back to the Temple.”

Merco nodded and marched over to the capsule laying in the field. Several attending Ansheetans backed away from the capsule when he knelt down and plucked it up in his hand. He stood, moved to the city and stepped over the wall with a bit of difficulty considering he only had one arm but he managed to enter Anashee.

As he tip-toed through the empty streets, minding his steps for any who were still unconscious, he heard a little voice calling his name. Before he could turn around Pixie hit his neck and was clinging to him with earnest.

“Pixie?” he tried to see her but couldn’t get his neck to bend that way.

“Merco! What happened? Your arm!” she gasped.

He automatically wanted to raise his left arm and comfort her with it but it was gone, “I know. Don’t worry about that. I’ll be ok.” He felt her cling to his neck even more and then held up the pod, “Come on. Let’s take this back to the Temple.”

Merco carefully traipsed through the city, whilst Pixie flew on ahead to reassure herself that her brother and Dr. Jasta were all right. Though the temple was damaged and they were both injured, Verin and Dr. Jasta had made it out with non-life-threatening wounds from the encounter. Pixie and Merco were both relieved. The pod was too damaged to be reinstalled so Merco helped remove the chrysalis and place it into a brand-new pod to incubate further. All life signs were still reading as normal.

Once that duty was performed, Merco decided to head back out and check the mercenary’s ship since it was his now. Pixie wanted to accompany him but he convinced her to stay in Anashee since he planned on returning once he assessed the ship to see if it was fine to fly. His trip was slower than usual considering he ached all over and walking was difficult. But he had to know the condition of the ship.

When he finally arrived he almost laughed aloud seeing that the mercenaries had left the back ramp open. One less hardship to overcome since prying open a ship ramp was next to impossible without heavy-duty tools or a passcode. He stepped onto the ramp and slowly ascended, feeling sharp bolts of pain through his body with every upward step. Merco winced and had to grab the handles along the bulkhead to keep himself standing. Inside it was a wide metal grated floor with numerous panels lining the bulkhead walls. Each panel no doubt was a storage compartment. Two unoccupied bunks bordered the right wall and the cockpit lay beyond.

As Merco walked toward the cockpit he noticed a small clear container sitting on a ledge next to the furthest bunk. There was a flicker of movement inside it which drew his attention. And then he all but dropped to his knees next to the bunk when he saw the familiar maroon jumpsuit and tall, dark plumage.

“Traynar!” he exclaimed seizing up the container. “You-You’re alive!”

Even in the container, Merco could see the little EFP fighter’s face light up with relief and joy as he leaned into the clear wall, “Merco! Get me out of here!”

“Ok, buddy. Hang on.” He assured, setting the container on the bunk pad.

With a careful twist he deactivated the barrier on the top, allowing Traynar to fly out. However, he didn’t get very high before he dropped weakly to the padded bunk. Merco very laid a finger on his back.

“Are you ok?”

Traynar flicked his plumage a bit and rasped weakly, “Thirsty.”

Merco’s eyes scanned around the ship a moment until he saw the icon for water against the wall, “I’ve gotcha. Just hang on.”

He touched the water panel on the wall, it slid open, and a ball of water appeared in the slot. When going on long space faring voyages liquid water could free-float about the cabin in low gravity situations and that could prove disastrous to the electronics. To combat this, water was contained in clear permeable pouches that dissolved once drank. He plucked up the water ball and brought it over to Traynar. The little alien could see the water but he’d never seen such a method of distributing it. Merco gently squeezed the pouch as he would when drinking and a couple droplets bubbled up from the access point. The Ansheetan all but fell against the waterbed-sized pouch and greedily drank the droplets.

“Easy. Easy. Not too fast now.” Merco encouraged.

He squeezed it again and Traynar drank more. At last, he no longer felt the dry rasp of thirst.

“There you go. That better?” Merco asked.

Traynar nodded, sighing with relief and fatigue as he laid on the water ball.

After several moments he smiled at Merco, “I’ve never been so glad to see your hairy face. I thought I was going to die in there.” He looked around with caution, “We-we’d better leave before they come back.”

Merco shook his head, “No need. The mercenaries are dead.”

Traynar glanced up at him and then noticed his armless stub as well as the wounds covering the giant alien, “You killed them?”

“One of them...Commander Madala got the other one.” He admitted, a sad tone creeping into his voice.

“The Commander?” Traynar asked with amazement.

“Commander Madala was killed...she made a brave sacrifice.”

The Ansheetan flier shook his head with disbelief.

“It’s a long story. But what about you? Anu and I thought you were dead.”

Traynar’s dark plume lifted at the sound of his mate’s name, “Anu!” he stumbled off the water ball, trying to fly.

Merco’s fingers gently wrapped around him, “Whoa, whoa. Easy, Traynar.”

“Anu! I have to go to her.” He insisted, weakly pushing against the giant’s gentle hold.

“We will. We will. But you’re too weak to fly.”

With slight movement he placed the Ansheetan on his bare shoulder, “Just ride up there for now. We’ll go back to Anashee with this good news. Could really use some right now.”

Traynar wanted to argue but knew he was too weak to fly to the forest, much less all the way to Anashee. Taking up the water ball, Merco drank the whole thing; he hadn’t realized how thirsty he was after the whole ordeal. He went for a couple more in the wall, finished those and then began walking down the ramp.

As he crossed the sands and into the forest he spoke, “You know Anu grieved for you. She helped me so much today during the battle.”

Traynar had to hold back his emotions at hearing that. Typically, Anu stayed away from the fighting as she was a trained scout. Her anxiety and emotions usually prevented her from doing too much in the way of “bravery”. However, ever since he helped and befriended Merco, he had seen Anu become less fearful and a more confident flier overall.

“Merco!” a voice shouted from the trees below.

The man stopped and glanced around for the source of the voice. A waving Rogashay rider sitting astride a sand dragon caught his attention.

“What word on the battle, Merco?” the rider called out. “Were you victorious?”

Merco nodded, “Both mercenaries are dead. We won. How is your leader, Boroxle?”

“He is resting, but he wanted to know the outcome of the other battle.” The rider shouted. “What were the casualties?”

Merco frowned, “Commander Madala was lost…but I don’t have an official count. Tell your leader Boroxle to rest and I owe him a great debt for his bravery in helping me today.”

The rider gave a Rogashay salute and wheeled his sand dragon back around to deliver the news.

A smile formed on his bearded face, “I’m sure Boroxle will have an epic story to tell for generations to come.”

“As will you. Tell me what has happened?” Traynar insisted.

All the way to Anashee the two told their stories of the battles and the capture.

…

Later…

It was dark by the time Merco returned to Anashee with Traynar riding on his shoulder. The EFP soldier stood, holding onto Merco’s ear for stability as he tried to survey the damage. It didn’t look profoundly as bad as he imagined it to be. He expected the entire city to be in ruins. Yet…it was still sobering.

Many Ansheetan voices called out to Merco as he approached across the river and farmlands and he tried to acknowledge all of them with small waves or nods. Then one voice they both recognized rang out.

“Merco! You’re back!” Anu called as she flew over the wall toward him.

Upon seeing his mate, Traynar leaped from Merco’s shoulder and flew straight at her. It was dark enough, Anu could only make out the outline of someone flying toward her. She stopped, veering to the side to give him room to avoid a midair collision. But he veered with her and all but tackled her through the air.

At first Anu was confused but then the familiar forehead pressed to hers and the voice, “Anu.”

Disbelieving, Anu grabbed Traynar’s head and pulled it away from hers so she could look at him. Tears flooded her eyes and her plume fluffed.

“Traynar?! Is it really you?”

He grasped her hands and put his forehead against hers again, “It’s me, Anu. I’m back.”

Anu was sobbing with tremendous emotion rolling inside her, relief, joy, disbelief.

“They-They said you were dead! That you’d been killed on the mission.” She blubbered.

Traynar closed his eyes with a smile, “Close… but I’m here.”

Midair the pair embraced, reunited. Merco smiled at the reunion, thinking on how he might receive a similar reception upon returning home to Earth. But now, he was exhausted and needed rest. He trudged past Anashee to his sleeping “quarters” and groaned audibly when he knelt down to sprawl out on his sleeping mat. Laying down wasn’t too much better than standing; his rib cage felt traumatized and everything else hurt too. He flopped over on his back, tucking the “pillow roll” underneath his head. Merco sighed deeply and patiently waited for sleep to wrap around him.

It wasn’t until a bit later when he felt something small land on his chest, “Merco?”

He smiled softly hearing Pixie’s voice though nearly asleep, “Hmm?”

She laid down on his chest just over his heart, “I’m so glad you came back.”

“Me too.” He whispered sleepily as he laid a gentle hand over her in a protective tent. “I’m happy you’re ok too.”

His mountainous chest lifted her with every breath. In no time he was asleep but Pixie was still awake listening to the familiarity of his inner sounds. Though Merco had returned Pixie’s heart was troubled. She knew his victory meant he had the mercenary ship. And if he had the ship then he would be leaving. Merco didn’t feel the tiny tears plopping down on his chest.