"Run!" Corym's frantic whisper was barely audible over the renewed pounding on the door and Kannon’s strained cries. He practically yanked Ashryn away from the entryway, pulling her deeper into the familiar warmth of the main room, now charged with suffocating dread. His grandfather, Peter, scrambled from his chair, face pale but eyes blazing with protective fury, grabbing the heavy iron fire-poker.

  "Through the back!" Corym urged, his mind racing. "The old game trail, leads up past Miller’s ridge!"

  They bolted through the kitchen annex, Corym nearly tripping over a discarded basket of root vegetables. Gran Elyra stood frozen by the dough-laden counter, hands covered in flour, eyes wide with confusion and fear. "Peter? Corym? What is happening?"

  "No time, Gran! Go with Gramps, lock yourselves in the root cellar!" Corym shouted back, not daring to stop. He shoved open the heavy back door leading out onto the terraced fields, the weak morning sun momentarily blinding him. Ashryn followed seamlessly, her movements fluid and silent despite the urgency.

  They scrambled up the muddy incline behind the house, heading for the dense thicket of ironwood saplings and tangled briar that marked the edge of the wilder hillside – their childhood hiding spot, a place only locals knew how to navigate quickly. The sounds from the front of the house faded slightly, muffled by the earth and stone structure. Had they bought enough time?

  A sharp, tearing sound ripped through the air, followed by splintering wood. The front door. They were breaking it down. Corym pushed himself harder, adrenaline surging, lungs burning. He glanced back.

  Figures were emerging around the corners of the house now. Men clad in the stark grey combat armor of Dynasty infantry, helmets reflecting the pale sunlight, unfamiliar rifles already raised. Their movements were practiced, disciplined, fanning out to surround the homestead.

  "Move!" Ashryn hissed, shoving Corym forward just as the first beams lanced towards them.

  Bright crimson shafts of energy, disturbingly silent save for a faint hiss, tore through the air where they had been moments before, kicking up plumes of steam and molten earth. Laser fire. Not the clumsy pulse batons of the local constabulary. This was military grade. This was real.

  Corym stumbled, expecting the searing pain, the sudden end. He looked back wildly, seeing Ashryn halt abruptly just a few paces behind him, facing the advancing soldiers. "What are you doing?!" he screamed, terrified. "Run!"

  But Ashryn didn't run. With startling speed, she reached into the folds of her simple tunic and produced something that looked utterly unremarkable – a smooth, slender branch of dark, lacquered wood, perhaps a foot and a half long, barely thicker than her thumb. Faint, almost invisible runes spiraled around its length. A wand. It looked like little more than polished driftwood, utterly incongruous against the backdrop of armoured soldiers and energy weapons.

  She planted her feet firmly in the mud, raising the wand. The faint runes etched into the wood began to glow with an intense, silver-blue light. Incoming laser bolts sizzled through the air towards her seemingly unprotected form. Corym cried out, certain she was about to be vaporized.

  Then, Ashryn spoke a single, sharp syllable – a word that resonated not just in the air, but deep within Corym's bones, vibrating with power. A shimmering barrier snapped into existence before her, not a solid wall, but a translucent, hexagonal panel of pure force, crackling with the same silver-blue energy radiating from the runes on her wand.

  The laser bolts struck the shield with explosive force, whanging and crackling, deflecting wildly. Crimson energy sprayed across the muddy field, carving steaming gouges into the earth, blasting chunks out of nearby fence posts, ricocheting into the sky. The sheer volume of fire was terrifying, but the shield held, flickering and straining but remaining intact under Ashryn's steady hand.

  Her face was set in concentration, lips pressed thin. With her free hand, she made a swift, complex gesture, and streams of volatile blue energy, like crackling arcs of liquid lightning fused with rushing water, leaped from her fingertips towards the soldiers.

  They struck two of the armored figures, throwing them backwards with concussive force, their armor sparking and smoking where the energy hit. The other soldiers faltered, taking cover behind the dubious shelter of the homestead walls, their disciplined advance momentarily broken by the unexpected magical resistance.

  "Corym, go!" Ashryn shouted, her voice strained with effort as another volley of laser fire hammered against her shield. "Get to the woods!"

  He hesitated, torn between fleeing and the insane urge to help, though he had no idea how. Then, from behind the corner of the house, Kannon and Firon stumbled into view, hands raised hesitantly, faces pale with terror, clearly being used as human shields or hostages.

  "Corym!" Kannon yelled, his voice cracking.

  Corym's heart wrenched. "Kannon! Firon!" He started towards them instinctively.

  "No!" Ashryn snapped, without turning her head, deflecting another laser bolt that nearly took off Firon's ear. "It's too dangerous!"

  "They're my friends!" Corym shouted back, anguished. "I have to..."

  "Corym, don't!" Firon bellowed, shaking his head frantically. "Just go! Get out of here! We heard... about your Dad... makes sense now..." His words were choked off as a soldier apprehended him, pulling his harms backward.

  "It's alright, mate!" Kannon managed, forcing a shaky grin despite the rifle muzzle likely pressed against his back. "We get it! Good luck! Go… go save the bloody galaxy or something!"

  Tears welled in Corym’s eyes, blurring the image of his friends standing helpless under the guns of armoured soldiers. He felt ripped in two. Leaving them felt like the ultimate betrayal. But Kannon was right. Going back now would achieve nothing but getting them all killed. He turned, choked back a sob, and scrambled up the muddy slope towards the concealing brush, pushing through tangled branches that tore at his clothes.

  He glanced back one last time. Ashryn was retreating slowly, her shield still holding, firing crackling bolts of blue energy that kept the soldiers pinned down, buying him precious seconds. Then the dense foliage closed behind him, swallowing the sounds of the firefight, leaving only the frantic pounding of his own heart and the gasping rasp of his breath.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  He stumbled through the undergrowth, branches whipping at his face, tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks.

  Ashryn caught up moments later, moving silently through the woods, her wand now tucked away, her face grim but composed. She glanced at his tear-streaked face, a flicker of something soft – sympathy, perhaps – softening her usual reserve. "Regret is heavy," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But dwelling on it now will serve no one. Least of all your friends."

  Corym scrubbed angrily at his eyes with his sleeve. "I'll be alright," he mumbled, though he felt anything but. "Just… get us out of here. Please."

  "We need speed, and distance," Ashryn agreed, scanning the canopy above. "The soldiers on the ground are only the immediate threat."

  As if summoned by her words, a faint, unnatural twinkle caught Corym’s eye high above, piercing the thin morning clouds. Three distinct points of light, moving with slow, deliberate purpose against the backdrop of stars still faintly visible in the daylight sky. They weren't stars. Their shapes were subtly irregular, pulsing with internal light.

  Ashryn's head snapped up, her expression instantly hardening. "Ships," she confirmed grimly. "Three cruisers, Dynasty by the looks of it. They used a close-proximity jump point. They're deploying ground troops, establishing orbital command." She looked at Corym, the implication stark. "They're settling in. Locking down the planet."

  The time for stealth was over. They needed to reach the Pelican, wherever it was hiding, fast. They broke into a run again, pushing through the woods at a punishing pace, leaves and twigs crunching underfoot. They burst out of the tree line onto the edge of another cleared field, part of a neighbouring farmstead. Ahead, near a dilapidated storage shed, sat exactly what they needed: a landskipper.

  It wasn't sleek or new. It looked like a utilitarian vehicle, an open-topped skimmer designed for hauling supplies or traversing rough terrain, hovering a foot or so off the ground on dusty repulsor units. Its paint was faded and chipped, one of its cargo restraints held together with wire.

  "Can you operate one of those?" Ashryn asked breathlessly, glancing around for signs of the farmer.

  "Better," Corym replied, already moving towards it, a desperate idea forming. "I think I can start it." He remembered fiddling with the neighbour’s older model skipper once, curious about its internal mechanisms. His innate feel for energy systems, the same sensitivity that had let him overload his emitter, might just work here too.

  As they approached the skipper, a high-pitched whine sounded from above. Ashryn reacted instantly, looking up to spot a small, dark shape descending rapidly – a Dynasty reconnaissance drone, its multifaceted optical sensor swivelling towards them. Before Corym could even shout a warning, Ashryn snapped her wand back into her hand. A single, impossibly fast bolt of crackling blue energy lashed upwards. It struck the drone dead center. There was a sharp pop, a shower of sparks, and the drone plummeted lifelessly to the ground.

  "Get in!" Ashryn urged, already vaulting over the side into the passenger seat.

  Corym scrambled into the pilot’s seat. There was no ignition key, just a recessed activation panel. He ignored it. Placing his palm flat over the main power conduit feeding the repulsor units, he closed his eyes, focusing, reaching for that inner wellspring of energy, but this time, consciously directing it, pushing a controlled surge, visualizing the startup sequence he vaguely recalled.

  He felt the familiar tingle, the surge of mana flowing through him, into the machine. The skipper's dashboard lights flickered uncertainly, then flared to life. The repulsor units hummed, lifting the vehicle another few inches off the ground with a soft whoosh. It worked.

  "Hold on!" Corym yelled, grabbing the steering yoke. He slammed the throttle lever forward.

  The battered landskipper shot forward, kicking up mud and grass, bouncing jarringly as it accelerated towards the main perimeter road that led towards the northern landing crags where the Pelican was hopefully waiting.

  They hit the main road just as two armoured figures emerged from the trees ahead, rifles raising. Corym swerved violently, sending the skipper skidding sideways, barely avoiding their crimson laser fire. Then they were accelerating down the winding road, Oakhaven falling away behind them. But they weren't clear yet.

  Looking back, Corym saw two sleek, dark shapes rise up from behind the village – Dynasty patrol skimmers, faster and purpose-built for pursuit, falling in behind them, their weapons ports already glowing.

  "Company!" he shouted over the roar of the wind and the skipper’s protesting engine.

  "Concentrate on driving!" Ashryn yelled back, already twisting in her seat, wand extended behind them. Blue energy bolts sizzled through the air, forcing the pursuing skimmers to weave and dodge. Return fire, tighter beams now, zipped past Corym’s head, impacting the road ahead in showers of molten rock.

  Corym pushed the landskipper harder than it was ever designed to go. The engine screamed, the chassis vibrated violently, threatening to shake apart. Trees blurred past in a green-brown streak. He took corners recklessly, relying on instinct and the skipper's surprisingly responsive handling, fighting to keep them ahead. Ashryn provided covering fire, her magical bolts weaving a defensive pattern, occasionally scoring direct hits that sent sparks flying from the patrol skimmers’ shields but didn't seem to disable them. They were gaining.

  Then, rounding a sharp bend overlooking the northern crags, he saw it. The Pelican, resting surprisingly close, partially concealed behind a jagged rock formation. Its boarding ramp was already lowering, light spilling out. But even better, defences were active.

  A shimmering, almost invisible energy shield flickered around the ship, deflecting stray laser bolts from the ground troops who were now converging on their position from the surrounding rocks. Modelo was visible near the ramp, crouched behind a deployed energy barricade, firing a heavy-looking rifle that spat rapid pulses of energy, far more powerful than standard infantry lasers. Small, automated turret emplacements, clearly cobbled together from salvaged parts, popped up from concealed positions around the ship, adding their fire to Modelo’s.

  And then there was Vantis. He appeared beside a group of soldiers converging on the ramp, his sword a blur of chrome suddenly suffused with a sickly green, venomous light. He moved with impossible speed, striking down three soldiers before they could even raise their rifles. Then, he simply wasn't there anymore, dissolving into a flicker of green mist and reappearing instantaneously behind another startled trooper, his blade finding its mark with deadly precision. He wasn’t just fast; he was blinking across the battlefield, a terrifyingly efficient engine of destruction.

  "Go, Corym, go!" Ashryn yelled, firing a final, wide-dispersing blast of energy towards the pursuing skimmers, momentarily blinding their sensors.

  Corym aimed the landskipper straight for the lowering ramp, pushing the throttle to its absolute limit. They shot across the last stretch of open ground, lasers from the ground troops pinging harmlessly off the Pelican's shield overhead. They hurtled up the ramp just as it began to retract, Vantis blinking aboard beside them with a final, deadly slash at a lunging soldier. Modelo laid down suppressing fire from the doorway.

  The heavy ramp sealed shut with a solid thump and a hiss of pressurization, cutting off the sounds of battle. Corym slammed his hand onto the throttle release, collapsing back into the pilot seat, chest heaving, adrenaline making him shake uncontrollably. They were aboard. They were safe. For now.

  Through the viewport, he saw the ground fall away rapidly as the Pelican ascended, pushing hard against Agon-Tor's gravity. Laser bolts splashed against the shimmering energy shield, dissipating harmlessly. Below, the figures of the Dynasty soldiers shrank, becoming insignificant specks against the familiar green fields of his home world, now receding into the distance, perhaps forever. They were away.