“Nobody ever defended anything successfully, there is only attack and attack and attack some more.” - Ancient F’laarian Saying----
Jade eyes shot open, glowing eerily in the minute light of the safety strip on the floor of the Mako’s Run. The deep sound of a relieved sigh reverberated through the room as Mrrowl took in the familiar shapes of the various armaments racked on the wall of the armory he had taken as his cabin a day earlier. With visible effort, one ear, then the other, slowly unfurled from against his head. Logically, he know that closing his ears wouldn’t stop the sounds of the human girl’s pleas as they replayed through the comm channel in his dreams, and yet...
Unclenching trembling paws that could still feel the turret controls, the sharply knurled surfaces of the firing studs leaving a ghostly prickling sensation on his thumbs, Mrrowl uncurled from the uncomfortable bunk and shivered slightly, blinking to clear the fading images of the targeting reticule overlaying the exploding light transport from his sight.
*the room strobes a with bright light, as if a ship’s reaction mass had gone critical...*
Mrrowl’s ears canted at various angles in alarm as the bulkheads of the F’laarian YG-4210 began to groan and pop in response to the heat being generated from their entry into the planet’s atmosphere. The smell of ozone and singed insulation assaulted his nose, and he imagined he could see the edges of the interior panels glowing slightly.
The idea of a few thin layers of durasteel between him and the vacuum of deep space had been disturbing enough, but at least it threatened death with a civilized silence. The distant roaring of the increasing volume of air outside the hull, followed by these new sounds as super-heated panels began to settle into new arrangements, were not reassuring the large Togorian that he had made the correct choice to leave Togoria. The disconcerted body language of the other recent Academy graduates, sitting in the half dozen jump seats lining the small cargo bay wall, reassured Mrrowl that at least he wasn’t alone in his discomfort. Fruuurv, cocky as ever, caught his eye giving him a wink and thumbs up. This was to be Mrrowl’s stop.
----
The ship lurched as the landing struts touched the ground. Lraaawl F’laar, a heavily scarred and experienced F’laarian, entered the cargo bay through the door to the cockpit. “Candidate Mrrowl, front and center!” he barked.
Grabbing the small rucksack from the rack over his head and patting his vibro-blade a couple of times for reassurance, Mrrowl jogged over to Lraaawl, stopping in front of him with an attentive posture. “Reporting, sir.”
“They seem younger every year...” Lraawl thought to himself, clapping Mrrowl on the shoulder as the cargo bay rang with the metal-on-metal sounds of the ramp deploying. “Go forth and conquer the Galaxy Mrrowl,“ he stated roughly, “don’t come back until you have proven yourself, or return as a failure.”
With a yowl of assent, in concert with supportive yowls from his fellow Candidates, Mrrowl turned on his heel and jogged quickly down the main ramp, which had just finished extending itself to the ground. Hustling alone across the drive-pitted duracrete of the spaceport, Mrrowl controlled the urge to look back - that chapter of his life was over, at least until he was able to prove his worth in combat. He could not help his ears swiveling backwards, however, in response to the assorted screeches of the ramp folding up, accompanied by the sound of the transport’s engines spooling in preparation for takeoff. Like it or not, he was on his own.
The bluish-tinted star beat down on the spaceport, creating shimmering waves of hot air that rose from the flaking duracrete, spawning scattered dust-devils marked by spinning neon-colored fast food wrappers. A half dozen saucer shaped ships squatted off in the distance, the small figures surrounding them for service and resupply made indistinct by the shimmering air.
A hot, acrid wind of expended drive reactant eddied around the large Togorian, causing his eyes to water and his nose to sting. Muttering under his breath at the disgusting pollution in the air, and beset by a sudden longing for the clean air and cool forests of his home, Mrrowl ducked into the main terminal building.
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