The wind whips my hair, pulls at my clothes. Vision's blurs, eyes streaming, can't think, no time to think, going to hit. This speed will end me. Gone, dust to dust. Spinning now, end over end, endless green melts into the sky.
We play on pure chance tonight, folks. A quick death, or more fear, drag it out, maybe my heart will explode from it, put me out of my misery. There is no breath to scream, air ripped out of my lungs. I'm float with no breath, drowning while flying. I feel peaceful, my limbs relax, it's over no matter what happens now. I can let it go, no pain. No fear. Release...
Why keep fighting? Nothing to go home to. No home. Alone.
Wait. No fools, no martyrs, and no surrender, not ever. Cling to life by my fingernails, kick death in the teeth, and give the Reaper the finger. Promised someone I'd stay alive, remember? Vowed to bring him back, blood on stone. Not done, not by a long shot, have work to do. Bring him home, even if all that's left of him is me.
Daphne opened her eyes. The raw sunlight scraped at her retinas. She tried to lift an arm to cover her face. That's when the pain hit, every muscle, every nerve, every inch of skin yanked tight, a whole body knot of agony. Her bones were bruised. Her mouth stretched open wide on a soundless scream, spine arched as pain made her muscles spasm. No moisture in her throat to make noise. It hurt so bad, she clawed the air, the ground. She wanted to pull off her own skin.
A hand shoved under her head. It tilted her neck to pour a bitter liquid down her throat. She choked it down, coughed, and rolled to her side. A tingling numbness rolled up from her stomach, slowly replaced the pain. Daphne lay panting, curled up, while pins and needles swirled under her skin. It took her a long time to realize someone ran their fingers through her hair, the gentle tugging on her scalp lulled her, let her mind drift. She closed her eyes, unable to focus, the harsh sunlight now a warm caress on her lids.
She stayed numb, drifted, until a dull ache started worked its way through her. She shivered. Warmth pressed against her, an arm wrapped around her. Daphne whimpered and turned into the warmth, the cogs in her brain creaked into action.
Pain sucked, but it meant she survived the ship ripping apart, somehow. She couldn't tell how much damage her body took or how long she'd been out but she'd heal, agony or not the survival factor was worth it. The gift of her genetics; that which does not kill us, leaves us scarred.
Hard to kill, the Harris family trait, her mother's people, and now the Glouschester family secret. Were the nanites still working or was she exposed for all to see? How powerful was her mother's regenerative gene? Mom once told her how Grandpa Harris survived a mauling by a Tibear, up and about by the next day. She wondered how fast her body could shake off a plummet and crash from space. Amazing she survived impact, should be impossible, yet here she was, cradled in a mystery person's arms. Whoever they were, they didn't want her dead, they took care of her, helped her through the worst bouts of pain. Was it Thrack? Had he and Agne survived the crash? No, her mystery caretaker didn't have enough limbs to be the Barlok. Had one of the natives found her? On a planet Thrack was terrified of, the thought should have scared her, but she didn't feel in danger. She felt safe as her body healed.
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New Earth 6Science Fiction
'Firefly meets Battlestar Galactica'. A merchant's daughter is captured and sold into slavery. A genetically modified survivor of an alien attack scours the galaxy for her taken brother before he is 'disassembled'. An alien scientist u...