Chapter Three

The twin stars were almost directly overhead. The faint double shadows they cast were almost in direct opposition to each other.

The alpha team was in position just beyond the edge of the clearing, bunkered down in a small ditch just inside the treeline. Rhys had gotten into a brief communication with Sergeant Benson to confirm the beta group was also ready and waiting, about half a mile away, further down the path the CGP force was expected to take. The spaceport, about two and a half miles distant, had maintained radio silence as the final defences were put in place.

With Twitch by his side, Rhys looked out over the clearing they expected the CGP spacecraft to land on. It was, as Rhys had deduced from the map, as perfect a spot to land as possible beyond a spaceport docking bay. The ground was almost completely flat, and the grass soft but just a little bit springy, enough to dampen the impact slightly. Best of all, it was easily large enough to fit seven or eight spacecraft without too much hassle; five would be able to land here with ease.

Rhys glanced back at his men. So far, none had offered any complaint to being led by a mustelid, though some had given him some particularly spiteful looks. Barely a word had been exchanged between them, only those that were strictly necessary.

Just from casual observation, Rhys could tell that the ground army was completely different to the Spaceways. Even in a group so small there were still many cliques that had developed, likely friendships forged in training that had continued on to active service. These cliques rarely formed in the Spaceways, largely due to the nomadic nature the crews led, wholly dependent on where their ship was stationed. Once deployed in the ground army, which was usually with the people they had trained with, they were rarely redeployed anywhere else.

Rhys’ comlink crackled as the spaceport’s silence was finally broken.

“We have sightings on the enemy craft. Their current trajectory is taking them precisely where we expected,” Captain Penklis said with the hint of a smug, self-congratulating disposition, as if she had been the one who had determined the most likely landing point, and expected the others to praise her on correctly indentifying where the attack was to come from. No such praise came.

“When will they be landing?” Rhys said instead.

“Looking at fifty minutes to an hour,” was the reply.

Rhys looked up again, but this time he expected to see something different. There was still not much to be seen against the bright blue sky as the twin stars were too bright. But the longer he looked, the more Rhys could see. Sure enough, after a couple of minutes of craning his neck, Rhys could just about make out a faint speck of brightness that was the five CGP ships sliding inexorably towards the planet.

His heart jumped. A small fragment of excitement was making itself known in his chest, slowly starting to replace the fear. Though the circumstances were alien to him, he loved the thrill of active service.

Then he ran his fingers down his front, where his fur was covered only by a thin fabric shirt. His nervousness returned full force as he again realised just how vulnerable and defenceless he was.

In the distance, where the port was just about visible beyond the trees, Rhys could see the faint distortion in the air as the defensive shields were activated. These shields were only useful against energy weapons; solid ammunition passed through them as easily as air, but solid ammunition did not work in the vacuum of space. All spacecraft were therefore equipped with ionic weaponry only.

Rhys signalled to his men to get into position. Though the ships were still some distance away, he wanted to be ready as soon as possible.

There was not much room in the ditch with one hundred humans and two mustelids squeezed inside. It was just about deep enough for Rhys and Twitch to stand and still look out over the banks, while offering a full view out over the clearing. It was the perfect firing range, while offering a little cover.

All that was left now was the final wait, and Rhys knew that would seem to pass very quickly.

Slowly the CGP ships came into clearer view, getting larger with each passing minute. It was not long before Rhys could quite clearly make out the five distinct outlines of the approaching craft. Twitch gripped at his arm as the ships began to emit a slight red light as they entered the Cymru atmosphere, and at that point Rhys signalled to his group of men to get down into the ditch and prepare themselves for the ambush.

His commands were obeyed a little reluctantly, but after five minutes all one hundred men were deployed in the ditch, waiting for the arrival of the attacking CGP force. Rhys was in the very centre of his men; his head level with theirs even as they knelt down while he stood. Twitch had shrunk down to cower by the bank of the ditch at the rear of the men.

Rhys knew it was tough enough landing one of the ships in the confines of a spaceport. The challenge ahead for the five CGP pilots was immense. The clearing may be ideal, but they were still landing in a field without the support provided by the port. It would be a great challenge, but Rhys knew they wouldn’t be attempting it if they weren’t confident of success.

Two of the ships fired off a couple of shots as they descended, which were effortlessly absorbed by the shields with a loud fizz. From within the port, the turrets returned fire, but they were as ineffective against the ships’ shields.

Then a missile arced up from deep within the port, penetrating the shields of one of the flanking ships and impacting its side in a powerful explosion. The craft held steady for a few moments, before it started to careen waywardly, almost striking one of the other ships as it started to plummet to the ground.

 Rhys contacted the port as he watched the ship disappear from view. “Got anymore of that solid ammunition?” he asked as he felt the impact of the ship hitting the ground a few miles away. There was no second explosion, so he assumed the ship had survived the crash intact, but was almost certainly crippled now.

“The thing’s jammed,” Captain Penklis replied. Rhys could hear a lot of activity in the spaceport, almost overwhelming her voice. “We’re not going to get any more out today.”

“Any word from Celta yet?” Sergeant Benson asked.

“We got through about five minutes ago. They know of our plight and are sending ships immediately.”

“So we have about four hours to hold out,” the sergeant said.

Rhys shook his head. That was far too long before reinforcements arrived. He doubted they’d hold out that long.

The remaining ships continued their descent unabated. Rhys took a deep breath as their engines fired up to control their landing. The noise was deafening. Even had he wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to say anything that could be heard by the human standing just by his side.

The four behemoths gently touched the ground, the landings performed in textbook perfection. Rhys shouldered his rifle. There wasn’t long to wait now.

The CGP’s strength was every bit as strong as Captain Penklis had feared. Each of the ships appeared to have been filled to their maximum capacity as the infantry slowly emerged from the black, open maws of the ships and formed up in the middle of the grassy plain. Even accounting for the shot down ship, in all they numbered around the expected five thousand soldiers. Amongst their number were at least five hundred mustelids, mixed in with the humans, and not segregated in their own groups.

Rhys’ men were getting restless, and they were not the only ones doing so. Both Captain Penklis and Sergeant Benson had already been in contact with Rhys asking him if the CGP ships had landed, and when he was going to attack. Rhys had already told them that he was going to wait until all the enemy troops had exited their ships before he would even consider launching the attack. He wanted to wait until the ships’ weapons were no longer manned.

After a further half an hour of waiting, the ships closed up again, and the gentle throb of the engines idling died as they were shut down.

Rhys held up his hand, and immediately he could sense that everyone had come to attention just behind him. Where there had been the gentle sounds of movement, there was now complete silence. Barely a breath could be heard.

The CGP were lined up in briefing of their tasks, unaware of the presence of Rhys’ small group, or of any immediate danger. Their voices drifted over the clearing, but Rhys couldn’t make out anything definitive. He heard the word ‘objective’ a few times, but nothing that told him of their exact plans.

“Initiating assault,” Rhys said over the comlink to Captain Penklis. She gave Rhys no response.

Rhys lowered his hand, and the sound of gunfire rang out across the plain. Rhys had not fired his weapon, instead just looking across at the effect the initial volley had caused. A number of men and mustelids had fallen, but barely a dent in the considerable force before them.

“Fire at will,” Rhys said quietly, slowly lifting up his rifle and taking aim. He fired a few shots into the temporary panic that had fallen on the opposition force. Then their commanders began to regain control and organise a defence much sooner than Rhys had anticipated.

Rhys’ men continued to pepper the CGP with shots, but they now had to be careful of the return fire. Though the CGP didn’t know exactly where they were, they still knew roughly where the attack was coming from, and it was all too easy to be struck by a lucky shot. Rhys didn’t look back to check if any of his men had been hit. He couldn’t hear any cries of pain, or the impact of bullets striking soft flesh or their tough armour carapaces.

An ominous whine filled the air, and Rhys looked up to see the weapon system of one of the ships swivel around to face their general direction.

“Everyone down,” Rhys warned as the pulse weapon began to glow red and the whine grew louder. Rhys threw himself to the ground as red lightning arced towards them. Several trees exploded as the energy beams struck them, sending fragments of pulped wood down onto Rhys and his men.

Rhys gestured for his men to withdraw as he contacted Sergeant Benson. “The ship’s still active. We don’t have the firepower to counter that thing. We’re falling back out of its range,” he said.

“Hold your ground. You must keep them occupied for longer. It’s too soon,” Sergeant Benson replied.

“That thing will rip us to shreds,” Rhys said as he backed out of the ditch.

The pulse weapon whined and fired again, tearing down a few trees a little further away from the alpha group. The CGP ship was firing blindly, not knowing where its target was, but Rhys was not comforted. It would just take a single lucky shot to kill them all. They had to get away.

 “Hold your ground,” Sergeant Benson bellowed through the comlink. Those who were close enough to Rhys to hear the sergeant’s voice froze in their retreat, and the order was soon passed amongst the rest of the alpha group. The retreat was halted. The men returned to the ditch.

The only mustelid amongst a hundred humans, Rhys found himself intimidated and unable to act. He was genuinely scared of them, and no matter what he couldn’t find the courage to order the retreat again.

The only mustelid.

Rhys looked around wildly. Twitch was nowhere to be seen.

He grabbed hold of Corporal Foreman’s arm, the only human here he could begin to trust.

“Where’s Lieutenant Hall? Where’s Twitch? Find him,” he snarled.

“I haven’t seen him,” Corporal Forman said uncertainly, looking around the forest, but there was no sign of the mustelid.

Out in the clearing beyond, the CGP ship had stopped firing as the commanding officers marshalled the foot soldiers once again. There was a calmness and clarity about their movements that momentarily concerned Rhys. He had expected them to be a little more flustered about the ambush attack, but they had remained highly disciplined throughout.

Rhys turned to Corporal Foreman. “Just go and look for him. He has to be here somewhere,” he growled. The corporal backed away and started searching for the missing mustelid.

One of the humans had started giving orders to the others, re-arranging their formation and bunkering them back down in the ditch. Rhys had heard him addressed as Corporal Smith – and he carried a comlink already, which he was using to communicate with Sergeant Benson. It was as though it had been anticipated that Corporal Smith would be taking command of the alpha group. Rhys bit his tongue and said nothing of the matter.

Something reflective glinted in the light, half hidden by the thick layer of leaves on the forest floor. It was a phaser pistol, like the one Twitch had been carrying. He picked it up and held it numbly as Corporal Foreman returned from scouring the ditch.

“No sign of him, Captain. No one’s been hit by enemy fire, there’s no body of anything. He’s just... gone,” the corporal said.

“He can’t be,” Rhys whimpered, looking around once more, but still unable to see any trace of the mustelid. It was baffling. If he had been hit, then there would be evidence, there would still be a body, but there was nothing. Had he fled? Had he not heard the call to abandon the retreat? Surely he’d have come back once he realised he was running on his own.

“There’s nothing you can do now, Captain,” Corporal Foreman said. He reached out to place his hand on Rhys’ shoulder, but then thought better of it. He rejoined the formation in the ditch as they prepared to open fire again.

Rhys watched on, detached, unable to fully comprehend matters. It didn’t even register in his mind that he was standing, fully exposed to any stray shot that may come in his direction.

Then he looked down and saw the comlink at his hip and it all became clear. Twitch had also been given one, though he couldn’t remember exactly why, as he had no reason for it... A matter for a later time.

Rhys crouched down behind a tree for a little cover and set up a direct link to Twitch’s comlink, but was met by a long, flat beep that indicated the other device was busy.  He shook his head and tried again. This time he was met with a quiet crackle and quick breathing.

“Twitch, are you there?” he said quietly.

“I... I’m here,” was the panted response. “Sorry... I... I got a little scared. I’m... hang on...”

“Where are you?” Rhys said, a little too loudly. He was given a few stern glances.

“Just a moment,” Twitch replied. A little of his old playfulness had returned to his voice, though Rhys could think of no reason why he was suddenly in a good mood.

Some of the trees a little further into the forest started rustling and dropping their leaves at an alarming rate, and then, leaping out of the lowest part of the canopy, was Twitch. He landed on the soft, leafy ground with a gentle thud, and a broad grin on his face. Rhys didn’t know whether to be relieved or furious, but he settled with punching him before pulling the mustelid into a tight embrace.

“What were you doing in the trees?” Rhys asked incredulously, unsure how Twitch could even have climbed so far up in such a short amount of time. Twitch just shrugged and didn’t answer.

From the clearing, the CGP opened fire again, but this time they were targeting about a hundred metres away, in the general vicinity of the beta ambush point. The foot soldiers were also starting to move towards that point.

Corporal Smith ordered a round of fire, and his company obliged, but Rhys couldn’t see a single CGP soldier fall, the energy rounds dissipating before they reached their target. The air seemed to shimmer slightly around the marching company. For a moment they parted long enough for Rhys to see a large, black box being carried by three soldiers in the very centre of the company.

“Is that a shield generator?” Rhys asked Twitch, who again just shrugged. Corporal Smith also appeared to notice the generator, as he swore profusely into his comlink. Rhys, who was being left out of all communication, didn’t hear the response, but the corporal gave the order to move out. Their ionic weapons were useless against the CGP shield, they were to rendezvous with the beta group.

The alpha group left the clearing behind them, moving through the forest in almost complete silence. The two mustelids followed just behind, barely able to keep pace with the longer-legged humans. They quickly lost sight of the CGP force, but they knew the enemy was still there, just beyond the line of trees.

The second point of ambush was half a mile away, where the open field was bordered on one side by the forest, and on the other by a shallow but near-impassable rocky gulch. It was from the gully that Sergeant Benson was to lead his assault. The CGP would have to pass close enough to the gully that their generator wouldn’t provide them an advantage; the sergeant’s men would be within the shield.

The alpha group would assist the beta by opening fire from the forest, if they were within the boundaries of the shield. Sergeant Benson hoped that the resultant crossfire could cause some significant damage to the CGP ranks and morale, and the absence of their ships’ firepower would prolong the time the TIE forces could wait before retreating again.

Rhys heard Twitch say something, but he was too busy trying to keep up with the others to make anything of it.

They reached the ambush point within a couple of minutes. Corporal Smith was in constant communication with Sergeant Benson as the alpha group bedded down in whatever cover they could find. Rhys lingered towards the back of the group, while Twitch was perched in the lower branches of a nearby tree. He was still grinning, though he had said nothing to Rhys to indicate why.

Once Corporal Smith had finished giving out the last few orders, silence fell over the two ambush groups. The CGP forces could not be far behind. The silence lingered though, stretching out to almost ten minutes and still there was no sign of the CGP. Rhys edged forwards and risked a glance out from the trees, but he couldn’t see anything. Something was definitely amiss.

Rhys looked across at Corporal Smith, who looked equally perplexed, but made no indication he was about to act. Rhys rolled his eyes and sighed. After the human had surreptitiously taken over command of the alpha group, it was left to the mustelid again to work out what had happened to the CGP.

He returned his comlink to general broadcast. “Captain Penklis, we’ve retreated back to the second ambush point, but there’s no sign of the CGP. They haven’t pursued us, and we have no idea where they are,” he said.

An answer was slow to come, but eventually Captain Penklis’ voice came through the speakers. “I’ve had a look on the sensors. I can’t see anything... hang on,” she said, before hesitating. Rhys could hear her tapping at a keyboard with particular fury. Her voice suddenly became urgent. “Get back to base, now. They’ve flanked us. They’re minutes away.”

Rhys was already moving before Captain Penklis had finished speaking. On the other side of the field, he could see Sergeant Benson emerging with his three hundred men just behind. How and why were irrelevant. All that mattered was getting back to the port, and they were ten minutes away.

The two mustelids were quickly overtaken by the humans around them; their shorter legs unable to keep pace with the longer strides. No one waited behind for them; there was no time, and none of them would consider the two mustelids any use in defending the spaceport from the CGP. There was absolutely no organisation to the rush back to the port, and if the CGP had already broken through the defences there, which was quite possible given how undermanned it was, then they would be gunned down with ease.

An explosion ripped through the port just as Rhys and Twitch raced into sight. Rhys grabbed Twitch’s arm and held him back as he slowed down to a walk. The wall that surrounded the port had already been destroyed near the main gates. There was no sign of the attacking CGP, or the defenders who had ran on ahead. The barracks and armoury were ablaze. Smaller explosions periodically ripped through the remains of the building as the ammunition within ignited.

“Hold on,” Rhys said as he paused by the wall. There hadn’t been any shout from within, so the outer guns weren’t being manned by anyone, friend or foe. He had no idea if that was a good sign. It was clear the CGP had some heavy weaponry with them. The barracks had been protected with some highly advanced energy shielding as well as being constructed with reinforced alloys. There shouldn’t have been anyone within, but the damage caused was still very severe.

The CGP had broken into the port without much resistance; the defending force had simply been far too small and the skirmish hadn’t eliminated much of the threat. However, the arrival of the failed skirmishing groups had turned the tide. They had attacked the CGP from the rear even as they tried to gain entry to the control tower. Once within the boundaries of the CGP’s shield, there were able to disable the generator, allowing the heavier weapons of the port to attack and inflict greater casualties on the assaulting force.

Rhys and Twitch looked on at the disorganised rabble in horror. Any attempt at structure was long since lost, and the fight had turned to hand-to-hand combat, with the occasional pot shot from a pistol or turret.

About half of the CGP’s army had already turned and retreated, returning back to the ships. Rhys could see no reason for the sudden withdrawal, as they still outnumbered the TIE force by a significant amount. It was as though capture of the port was not a priority.

While some of the CGP soldiers who remained were starting to peacefully surrender, another group were still intent on causing as much damage to the port as they could. Rhys watched on in dismay as he saw a Siege Pulse Gun set up and manned in the very core of the CGP group, out of the firing line from the TIE troops. Before Rhys could draw anyone’s attention to the weapon it fired, sending a pulse of energy fuelled matter almost vertically to arc down on top of the control tower.

With a resounding shockwave that almost knocked Rhys to the ground, the pulse exploded violently, sending debris almost a hundred metres in every direction.  A second shot was fired from a solid shot launcher and another explosion followed, sending a plume of fire high into the air as the building caught ablaze.

As Rhys looked on stunned, Twitch took hold of his arm in a tight grip. “Aren’t there people still in there?” he said in a strained voice, his ears pressed down so far they were almost invisible amongst his head fur.

“Shit, Scott’s in there,” Rhys said, and before anyone could stop him, he darted between the bodies surrounding him and the control tower. He kept himself low and sprinted across the open ground between the two forces.  He dived inside the mercifully open door, half expecting a spray of bullets to follow him, but there was nothing.

Smoke was already thickly clinging to the ceiling, drifting ponderously in the near-still air. It tickled the back of his throat. Somewhere an alarm was sounding, and the sprinklers suddenly turned themselves on, achieving in simply drenching Rhys and doing nothing whatsoever about the smoke. There was no sign of Edgar Scott, Captain Penklis or the others who had been in the control tower at the time of the explosion.

Rhys clenched his jaw and ran forward. They could well be trapped somewhere inside and need his help in getting out. Or they could all have been killed in the initial blast. Rhys shook his head and ignored that insidious thought. Unless he had proof otherwise, he had to assume they were all still alive and simply trapped. He pressed on, checking every door he passed, but moving with urgency down the corridor, towards the spiral staircase that led to the top of the tower.

He was alerted by the sound of someone coughing, before several human-shaped shadows started to form out of the dense smoke ahead. There were survivors.

“Is this everyone?” Rhys asked the first person who passed him. They completely ignored him and didn’t even pause in their escape towards fresh air and safety.

Then a familiar shape emerged from the smoke. “Captain Griffiths, what are you doing in here?” Scott said as he came down the stairs, almost bundling the captain over.

“Is this everyone?” Rhys repeated, resisting Scott’s attempts to pull him back.

“Yes, Captain Penklis and I were the last ones out,” Scott said. He glanced behind him to the smog filling up the stairwell behind him. There was no shadow approaching. “Where’s Captain Penklis, she was right there, Rhys, no!”

Rhys was gone, darting away from Scott and into the thickening smoke, and up the stairs. He didn’t think of Captain Penklis’ derision of him, nor of her considering him and Twitch to be simple, expendable mustelids. All that mattered to him was making sure a ranking officer was safe. She had survived the explosion, Scott had told him that much, somehow she had gotten lost in the smoke.

The further up Rhys climbed, the more suffocating and stifling the air became. Carried by a stiff, downward breeze, the smoke billowed down the stairwell. Rhys eyes watered and his throat was hoarse and itchy, aggravated by the acrid smoke. Still he forced himself to keep moving up, doing his best to ignore the effects of the heat and smoke.

Small tongues of flames began to lick at the walls and ceiling, which groaned and creaked as the building supports were gradually being eaten away. Singed flecks of plaster drifted in the turbulent air; small points of orange and red amongst the thick, black smoke.

Rhys tumbled to his knees as he dragged himself up the last few stairs. His lungs were gasping for fresh air, but there was no respite once he reached the top. Here the smoke was thicker, and the flames brighter, hotter, and more fierce. With one hand to his mouth, the other shielding his stinging eyes, he shuffled forward, hoarsely calling out to any survivors who remained.

The communications room at the top of the tower was in ruins. What little that remained of the roof was crumbling and in danger of collapse, and most of the wall and floor on one side had already given way. The wind was ferocious, whipping up the fire into a frenzy. Small, popping explosions combined with the crackle of the flames as the computers and radio systems were devoured by the inferno.

The air smelt of ash, burnt plastic, and charred flesh – there were some who had not survived the blast.

 There was no sign of Captain Penklis, but Scott had been sure she was right behind him. They had not passed on the stairs, there was nowhere on the top of the tower where she could be. The communications room was bereft of life and on the verge of collapse.

Keeping as low to the ground as he could manage, Rhys crawled back to the stairs. The floor beneath his paws shuddered and creaked in protest as his weight pressed down on it. He tried to spread his body out to lessen the pressure, but the terrible noises only grew louder. His feet were burning; the flames had traversed the outside of the tower, and were attacking the floor from both directions.

Rhys heard the collapse moments before it took the floor out from beneath his feet. Summoning all his energy, Rhys dived forward as the floor crumbled and gave way. Nothing but sixty feet of empty air was below him as he clung onto a metal spur that protruded from the ruined floor.

He squeaked in terror. The smoke was blinding him; the fire burning. His claws could find no purchase on the smooth metal. He started slipping.

A firm grip around his wrist, and he was dragged back up to the burning floor.

“You fool. Idiot!” Captain Penklis. Her voice was raspy from the smoke, but alive, and apparently quite well, circumstances permitting.

Rhys gasped and wheezed on the floor, losing the strength to even move. “You were... in danger?” he panted, barely able to force the words past his inflamed throat. He no longer even believed that the captain had been in trouble.

“Idiot. I can look after myself. I had to activate the emergency beacon from the basement,” Captain Penklis said, before coughing into her sleeve. She picked Rhys up with little effort and slung him over her shoulder. “It’s lucky I ran into Mr Scott and he told me where you’d gone, or else...”

The entire building lurched as the flames crackled louder. The building wouldn’t survive much longer.

Anything Captain Penklis may have said was lost as a large chunk of the ceiling broke apart and smashed down a few feet away. The floor groaned ominously as Captain Penklis fled the remains of the communications room, with Rhys bouncing uselessly against her back.

The flames were starting to descend on the building with increased vigour, and were already starting to engulf the lower floors by the time Captain Penklis reached the bottom of the stairs. Fragments of the ceiling had already given way with debris falling down from the disintegrating communications room.

The air was slightly fresher as the smoke still clung to the ceiling, leaving the corridors away from the stairs hot and stuffy, but still reasonably clear. Rhys breathed it in like a drowned man returned to the surface taking in deep gulps of oxygen. Captain Penklis placed him back on the floor, and though he staggered against the wall, he declared himself able to walk unaided.

They half ran, half staggered down the corridor as destruction reigned all about them. As the plasterwork fell away, the metal struts that supported the building came into view every time Rhys happened to glance up. They were starting to glow red. Something very flammable was burning upstairs, and before long it would began to crash down onto the ground level. There wasn’t much time, and there was only one way out of the building.

Despite being significantly shorter than Captain Penklis, Rhys was beginning to struggle again with the smoke that was very quickly filling up the corridor. He stumbled a few times, and he had to lean on the human for support. Captain Penklis proceeded with grim perseverance, and but for the occasional wheezing cough, showed little sign of being affected by the thick smoke.

Rhys’ head swam. Not only was the smoke and heat dulling his senses, but he could feel his whiskers singing in the heat, further damaging his balance. Even with Captain Penklis’ help, he was barely able to stumble forward in a straight line. The temperature was getting unbearable, and Rhys almost absently toyed with the top button of his shirt, as though loosening his collar would be able to help cool him down.

The sound of the collapse was easily heard from further down the corridor, closer to the exit. The breeze that had been carrying the smoke suddenly ceased and the air become wild, with hot currents being dragged in every direction. Rhys feared the way out to be blocked. He glanced up at Captain Penklis, who shared his concern.

“Wait here,” she said, leaving Rhys slumped against the wall. She dashed off down the corridor, vanishing into the haze after just a few paces. Even the sounds of her footsteps were soon swallowed by the clinging smoke.

As Rhys slid to the floor he noticed a slight breeze on the floor; just the faintest breath of fresh air disturbing the smoke. He crawled forward to the door where the breeze emerged and pulled himself up to the control panel. He punched in his identification code and the door started to slowly grind open. Rhys gulped in the fresh air that rushed out of the doorway; the room beyond had been kept miraculously clear of smoke and flame.

Further down the corridor he could hear Captain Penklis swearing as she approached. “It’s no good, the way’s completely blocked off that way,” she said. She paused as she felt the fresh air on her face, and then looked in at the room that the flames were already starting to creep in to. She looked concerned; a reaction Rhys understood when he saw what the room contained. It was one of the training rooms, and it happened to be the one that contained the training simulator. Rhys knew it wasn’t just highly flammable, but could be very explosive.

There was an open window on the far side of the room.

Rhys staggered forward, but his vision swam and he smashed into a desk. He cried out at the sharp pain in his knee, and then again as Captain Penklis dragged him through the room. The fire was already greedily eating up the thin carpet behind them and rapidly spreading across the floor, igniting the wooden desks and edging closer to the simulator.

Captain Penklis released Rhys as she clambered out of the window. She immediately started running, not turning back to make sure Rhys was following close behind. The mustelid wasn’t. As Rhys tried to lift himself up through the window he slipped and caught his chin on the unrelenting ledge. Dazed, he fell back into the training room and gasped as he struck the floor, inhaling a fresh mouthful of acrid smoke. He lay there for a few moments, forgetting for the time the danger he was in. Only when the flames started singing his fur did he groggily return to his feet and clamber up to the window ledge again, grimacing as pain lanced through his knee.

As he reached for the ledge he glanced back. The simulator had been overtaken by flames. Sparks were flying and the machine was hissing and crackling in a manner that greatly unnerved Rhys. He had moments.

Perched on the ledge, he didn’t have time to flinch as the machine erupted in a plume of shrapnel and fire. It flung him from the window, sending him crashing to the wreckage strewn ground. He was conscious for a few moments of pain before darkness blissfully took him.