Robyn Michaels
Ryder Voss had always been good at improvisation. After all, it was hard to live as a scavenger on the edges of the Scatterverse without learning how to survive on quick thinking and duct tape. Now, as he crouched behind a jagged outcrop of crystalline rock on the shadowed moon of Cyris-7, he felt that skill being put to its greatest test yet.
“Quiet now,” Ryder whispered, glancing over his shoulder. A pair of wide, luminescent eyes blinked back at him. One of the children—no, not children, he reminded himself—one of the juvenile Thalrians clutched at his jacket with delicate, chitinous fingers. She—at least, Ryder assumed she—was one of seven younglings who had found themselves under his protection. Their iridescent exoskeletons shimmered faintly in the dim moonlight, a dead giveaway if they moved too much.
Ryder grimaced and tugged his jacket tighter around the small one at his side, hiding her glow. The Thalrian juveniles had been left stranded here when their colony ship was attacked by slavers. The adults had resisted, buying time for their offspring to escape in a life pod. Now, the younglings were Ryder’s problem—and their pursuers were closing in.
The faint hum of engines broke the silence. Ryder tilted his head, listening intently. The slavers’ ship was making another low pass, scanning for life forms. Its harsh searchlights carved brilliant beams into the night, but the crystalline forest refracted the light in unpredictable patterns, scattering it across the ground. So far, it had kept them hidden.
So far.
The hum grew louder, and the youngling pressed closer to Ryder. Her thin, musical voice trembled as she spoke in halting Galactic Common. “Will… they… find us?”
“Not if I can help it,” Ryder replied, forcing a grin he didn’t quite feel. “Just stick with me, kid.”
He peeked around the rock. The ship was descending now, its belly-mounted spotlights sweeping the terrain. It wouldn’t take long for them to notice the subtle glimmers of Thalrian bioluminescence. Ryder’s mind raced. His old freighter, The Spitfire, was hidden a klick away, but they’d never make it on foot before the slavers spotted them. They needed a distraction—something big.
And dangerous.
Ryder’s gaze flicked to the crystalline spires that surrounded them. Cyris-7’s unique geology was both beautiful and volatile. The crystals were natural conductors, brimming with latent energy from the moon’s chaotic magnetic field. Under the right conditions, they could amplify and release that energy in devastating bursts.
“Okay, think, Ryder,” he muttered. “How do you make a big enough bang without getting yourself and the kids fried?”
He unslung the battered multi-tool from his belt and pulled out a tiny plasma torch. A plan began to form—a stupid, reckless, very human plan.
“What are you doing?”
The youngling’s voice trembled as Ryder scrambled up one of the crystal formations, his torch flickering in the dim light. He worked quickly, carving shallow grooves into the crystal’s surface to weaken its structure.
“Setting up a surprise,” Ryder called back. “When they get close, this thing’s gonna light up like a festival flare.”
“But… dangerous!”
“Yep.” Ryder slid down the crystal, landing in a crouch. “That’s the point. Now, I need you and the others to follow the plan. You remember the plan, right?”
The youngling nodded hesitantly. Ryder had drilled it into them: If anything went wrong, they were to run to The Spitfire and lock themselves inside. He’d given the eldest a crash course on the ship’s basic controls, enough to get them into orbit where the local patrols might intercept them. Ryder had no intention of letting it come to that, but if it did, the kids wouldn’t be sitting ducks.
The hum of the slaver ship grew louder. Ryder swore under his breath as its spotlights swept closer. No time for second-guessing. He jammed a small energy cell into the base of the crystal he’d rigged, setting a short timer.
“Go!” he hissed, waving the younglings toward the cover of another outcrop. They hesitated, but Ryder’s sharp glare sent them scuttling off, their movements eerily silent despite their insectoid forms.
The slaver ship descended to just above the ground, its floodlights now blindingly bright. Ryder dove for cover as the timer hit zero.
The explosion was spectacular.
A burst of searing blue light erupted from the crystal spire, amplified by its neighbours in a dazzling chain reaction. The energy rippled outward in a shockwave, sending shards of crystal flying like shrapnel. Ryder’s ears rang as he pressed himself flat against the ground.
The slaver ship reeled, its shields flickering under the unexpected assault. Alarms blared as it veered sideways, crashing into a cluster of smaller crystals. Ryder didn’t wait to see if it would recover.
“Move, now!” he shouted, bolting toward the younglings.
The group sprinted through the crystal forest, their path illuminated by the faint glow of the Thalrians’ bodies. The juveniles moved with surprising speed and agility, but Ryder could hear their soft, frightened clicks and trills as the slavers’ ship roared back to life behind them.
“They’re coming!” one of the younglings cried.
“No kidding,” Ryder muttered, glancing back. The ship had taken off again, its lights cutting through the haze of crystal dust. His distraction had bought them time, but not much.
The Spitfire came into view, its boxy silhouette a welcome sight. Ryder slammed the hatch open and ushered the younglings inside.
“Strap in and hold on to something!” he barked, racing to the cockpit. The controls lit up as he slid into the pilot’s seat, hands flying across the console. The engines sputtered to life with a groan.
“Come on, you rusty bucket,” Ryder growled. “Don’t fail me now.”
The ship lurched upward just as the slaver vessel appeared on the horizon, weapons fire streaking past them. Ryder swerved hard, narrowly avoiding a blast that would’ve turned them into scrap.
“Shields at twenty percent,” the ship’s AI chimed, far too calmly for Ryder’s liking.
“Great. Fantastic,” Ryder muttered. He pushed the engines to their limit, heading for the dense asteroid belt that ringed Cyris-7. It was a risky manoeuvre, but the slavers’ larger ship would struggle to follow them through the tight gaps between the rocks.
As they entered the asteroid field, Ryder’s focus sharpened. He weaved the Spitfire through the tumbling debris with practised precision, each near-miss drawing startled gasps from the younglings in the back. The slaver ship pursued, its weapons fire sporadic as it struggled to maintain a clear line of sight.
One particularly large asteroid loomed ahead, its surface pockmarked with deep craters. Ryder’s lips curled into a grin as an idea struck.
“Hang on, kids. Time for another surprise.”
He angled the Spitfire toward the asteroid, skimming its surface at breakneck speed. The slaver ship followed, its bulkier frame struggling to match Ryder’s nimble manoeuvres. At the last second, Ryder veered sharply, diving into one of the asteroid’s craters.
The slaver ship wasn’t so lucky. Its shields scraped against the asteroid’s surface, and a shower of sparks erupted as it clipped the edge of the crater. Ryder didn’t wait to see the damage. He gunned the engines, rocketing out of the asteroid field and leaving their pursuers behind.
By the time the Spitfire reached the safety of open space, the younglings had fallen silent. Ryder turned in his seat to find them huddled together, their bioluminescent bodies dimmed with exhaustion and fear.
“You’re safe now,” he said gently. “They’re not gonna hurt you.”
One of the younglings stepped forward, her luminous eyes wide with gratitude. “You… saved us.”
Ryder shrugged, though the weight of what he’d just done pressed heavily on his shoulders. “Couldn’t just leave you, could I?”
The youngling tilted her head, her mandibles clicking softly. “You are… brave. And kind. Like… our elders said… humans could be.”
Ryder blinked, caught off guard. He’d spent most of his life on the fringes of society, scraping by on odd jobs and salvage runs. Being called brave and kind wasn’t exactly something he was used to.
“Yeah, well,” he said gruffly, scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t go spreading that around. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
The youngling let out a soft trill that Ryder realised was laughter. Despite himself, he smiled.
As the Spitfire cruised toward the nearest trade hub, Ryder leaned back in his seat, exhaustion finally catching up to him. The slavers might’ve been dealt with for now, but there were still questions to answer. What would happen to the younglings? Could they be reunited with their people, or would Ryder have to find them a new home?
One thing was certain: He wasn’t about to abandon them.
For all his flaws, Ryder Voss knew one thing about himself—when it came to protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves, he’d do whatever it took.
And if the rest of the galaxy didn’t like that?
Well, that was their problem
Endless Horizons 