“Save me from this desert,

  And save me from myself,

  I already ate my ride,

  And my mind is off the shelf.

  I saw me ma and pa,

  Who 20 years been dead.

  I also saw me lass, and

  She tried to shoot my head.

  To think I thought the desert,

  Was full of fun and tricks!

  I tried to greet the natives,

  But they tend to kill with sticks.

  (Chorus)

  Oh!

  Rescue me from madness,

  Visions I’ll see no more.

  I’ll not be a livin’ longer;

  Sorely parched,

  I knock on His door.”

  - Sashyrian Desert folk song,

  Origin unknown

  Chapter 12: Rescue

  Red did not consider herself cruel, but she was practical. Sometimes, that meant making the hard choices. Sometimes, that meant choosing the most lives over the fewest.

  Magnus was starting to hallucinate even more now that Kane had released him from his bindings. He needed medical attention, and he was not going to receive it anytime soon. Unless he did, he would die. And, unless they left soon and stealthily, they would die as well.

  They had managed to slip past all the security drones to this point, but now, she was looking directly at one, and she was not sure they could avoid it. They knew she was gone, and it would not be long before they mobilized to apprehend them. The longer they waited around, the more time they lost.

  “I’m sorry, but your friend is dying. Without medical attention, his fate is sealed. Ours isn’t. We need to go,” Red stated, trying her best to remain sympathetic.

  Strangely, Kane hurriedly began to place the bio-suit and armor onto Magnus. Either not hearing her due to the steadfastness he was allocating to his current task, or just outright ignoring her, Kane continued on as though she had said nothing. Red sighed, now resigned to resorting to a more desperate measure.

  “Let him alone and lead me to my ship,” she ordered, pulling out a sword and placing it against the back of Kane’s neck. He slowly began to stand, facing her.

  His eyes were cold, and unflinching. His stance was relaxed, as though he was not being threatened at all. Despite her loath-fulness towards the idea, Red was committed to getting out of here the only way she knew how.

  “I said move, Kane. Leave him alone, and move. There’s nothing more we can do for him,” Red insisted.

  Kane remained motionless, staring at her, though his eyes had lost the light of sight long ago. She knew he was quick, but with her sword this close to his neck, all she had to do was turn it on, and his trachea would be seared through. With overpowering her not possible, the only other thing she could conceive was that he did not think she’d do it.

  “Don’t test me. I’ve killed many men for far less, and I will not hesitate to do so again.”

  He remained motionless. Her finger hovered over the sword’s button. She had hoped it would not come to this.

  An alarm rang above them. It was too late. The game was up.

  “Great,” Red stated, lowering her sword as she realized that their escape was ruined.

  “It’s not for us,” Kane remarked.

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  Red listened carefully. Between the wail of the sirens, she heard a faint noise off in the distance. Then, the ground below her feet began to shake.

  “It almost sounds like...”

  “An explosion? Yes. Now help me get him in my armor,” Kane ordered, kneeling back down to finish the job he had started. Red, ignoring her confusion, sheathed her sword and followed suit.

  “I’m not going to say sorry. It’s just that, I thought-”

  He made no response, nor did he look in her direction. It became clear to her mid sentence that this was no time for explanations. She worked harder as Kane finished up, placing the weathered, scarred helmet onto Magnus’ head. As Magnus opened and shut his eyes repeatedly, the red eye slits of the helmet flashed on and off.

  “Will this suit heal him?”

  “Long enough to get him out of this critical state, yes.”

  “What’s going on? Friends of yours coming to the rescue?”

  “You might say that. Let’s move.”

  Kane threw the armored man over his shoulder, and then ran through the still open shield doors. Running into the middle of an open area, they were nearly run over by a hoard of scientists all running towards the emergency exits. Red looked around for a ready way out.

  “We need to get to the hanger!” she exclaimed, making her voice heard over all the noise.

  Kane, his left arm holding up Magnus, and his right holding his sword, shook his head. By all indications, he did not know how to get there from here.

  “And this is your plan?” she replied, sarcastically.

  Running in a different direction than which they came, Red hoped that maybe they could find a chariot with a map layout leading to hanger C, or at least sub-level 7. Going the way they came in would be troublesome, and based on what she had managed to piece together of the prison, would be in the opposite direction of her ship.

  In the back of her mind, Red wondered where all the guards had run off to. She imagined they would be escorting the higher priority staff and the scientists to where they would be safe. As they turned the corner, Red discovered her theory was not entirely correct.

  Prisoners, who had transferred down here to work. had begun to riot. Overtaking some of the guards and taking their weapons, they began to fight for their freedom. This, in turn, led to a nasty skirmish. P.O.W. 's and common criminals alike fought side by side by side against their captors. Red guessed they were not the only ones to take do so. The whole prison must have been in upheaval.

  Understanding their apparel would make them targets to the prisoners, who at the moment had the upper hand, the two turned to go another way. Red led the way, with Kane closely behind her.

  “They’ll attack us if they see us in this garb. We need to go another way,” Red said, beginning to turn around as she said it.

  “I declare, a Sashyrian woman as a guard? These are the new times indeed,” a voice from behind them stated.

  Red knew it would be a prisoner, given the man spoke the common tongue, and not Sashyrian. She turned to face a man with long, dirty blonde drawn back hair. He had a long goatee, with stubble on his cheeks that gave him the appearance of a beard. He spoke with a southern Paradignian accent, but with smoother

  enunciation than the average person you would encounter in that area. He wore a small, welcoming smile, accompanied by dirty, prison rags.

  “You must be-” he began.

  Red, not willing to take any chances, threw a speedy round kick towards the man’s jaw. Her kick was lightning fast, and by the look on the man’s face, unexpected. This potential threat would be out of commission momentarily, and with ease.

  Just then, she found her ankle caught in a vice-like grip. The hand was furry, and oversized. She turned to see that an Animia, more specifically, a Taur, had caught her kick, preventing it from hitting the southern Paradignian prisoner. The Taur looked angry.

  Taurs, a subspecies of the Animia class, were large, bulky, bovine-like creatures. They were known for their silent natures, brute strength, and solemn ways. Despite their aloofness, they were known to be highly intelligent creatures, and quite social under the right circumstances. This Taur was commonly called a “brown” or “bison Taur,” native to the plains of the tribe lands of Dizran.

  The brute kept his grip tight and unwavering. Red began to loose her balance, as he raised her leg higher and higher. He stared at her with stern disapproval, looking down on her from his impressive , roughly 2.30 meters height.

  Red was unsure as to what to do. The Bison seemed to have no intention of harming her, only protecting the man to his right. She considered drawing her sword, but it would be to no avail if he crushed her leg in his mighty grasp, or flung her like a rag doll across the room. She had seen what Taurs were capable of in battle, and their strength was unparalleled.

  “... imposters,” the man finished, his smile still intact. The bison, seeing that she had calmed, let go of her ankle.

  Red turned to Kane, flustered.

  “What happened to your hyper awareness?” she whispered.

  “I was going to tell you that they don’t have hostile intentions,” Kane replied, switching to one handed sign language for the moment after sheathing his sword.

  Red sighed.

  “Look, we need to get to the hangar, so we’ll be going now,” she replied, turning back to face the two.

  “If you help us escape, we’ll take you there,” the man offered, looking to his larger bison friend, who nodded in agreement.

  “You two cons?” Red asked, wanting to know more about them before agreeing to anything.

  “Privateers. In the service of Paradign.”

  “How did you end up here?” Kane interjected.

  “My sign speak is a little rough, but if you’re asking how we ended up here, it’s a long story,” the man replied. “Afraid we didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Take us to the hanger, and we’ll help you.”

  The man, followed by his much taller friend, ran through a series of halls, crevices, and runways. The Bison, also dressed in rags, made a clomping sound with his feet as he ran. Red was slightly concerned that they had lost the element of stealth, but the Bison’s presence seemed to make void the need for it. Any prisoners they encountered were willing to leave them alone, and any straggling Sashyrians were taken out with just one blow by the big fellow. Even if the Bison could be less conspicuous, Magnus spoke so incoherently and so loudly that it would make no difference. Though his body was supposedly being healed, the hallucinations were still taking their toll on his mind.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “What have they been working on down here?” Red asked, curious.

  “Wouldn’t know, ma’am. They set us to mining when we got here. Only Checotah and I remain in our little entourage. The rest were killed in a mining accident,” the goateed man whispered, leaning against a wall and peering around a corner to see if the coast was clear.

  “Mining what?”

  “Bystillium. Com’on, the coast is clear.”

  Running around the corner, Red noticed that a large, dark tunnel nearly a thousand meters in diameter led out of the cavern. A platform led off of the metal floor and out past its ledge, where three hover chariots sat waiting.

  “This cavern will take us directly up to the hangar area.”

  “How convenient. Looks like our luck has changed,” Red remarked.

  The goateed man walked over to a chariot, activating its controls.

  “The chariot’s controls are locked out. I can’t access them.”

  “Leave that to me,” Red replied, walking over to him. The man stepped out of her way as she began to hack into the system.

  “Name’s Pickett, by the way. Joshua Pickett. This here is my faithful companion, Checotah. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, curtly nodding to both Red and Kane. The two made little response.

  “Is your friend going to be alright?” Pickett asked, nodding towards Magnus, who was moaning out in pain.

  As he asked, Naf climbed out of his master’s robe, slightly startling the two newcomers.

  “Master, Magnus much heal now. No critical. Much safe.”

  Kane gently laid the pilot on the floor, and began to disassemble his armor. Red turned back to see what he was doing. Whatever he was doing, it was not the time or place.

  “I don’t think we have time for that, Kane,” she remarked, continuing to try and bypass the security system.

  Roughly thirty seconds passed by, and she still heard the sounds of rattling armor. Red had no time to mind it, however, since she was at the precipice of success. At last, she had broken through.

  “Alright let’s-” she began, turning around to see that Kane was now in his biosuit and armor. Seeing him in the armor, she now knew who he really was. He was the Blight. The one she had seen on wanted adverts all throughout the slaver and pirate towns. She inwardly punished herself for not taking better note of the armor before.

  “Well, well… the Blight. Who would've guessed,” she remarked, astonished. Turning to Magnus, she asked: “Is he going to be alright?”

  Kane made no reply. It seemed he was too busy resetting some specs on his H.U.D. Naf, who was now climbing onto Kane’s back, answered.

  “Much fine. Master need armor now. Much ready to go.”

  Pickett and Checotah’s reaction to all that had just happened was one of slight confusion, but they seemed to dismiss it as they hopped on board the chariot. Kane picked up the damaged pilot, and he and Red followed suit.

  “How long will it take us to get there?” Red asked, directing her question toward Pickett.

  “Only a minute or so at top speed. I’ll drive. I know all these curves and turns like the back of my hand,” he stated, grabbing hold of the controls. Checotah grabbed onto the railing tightly. Taking note, she and Kane opted to do the same.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Pickett let out a, “Yeeee-yeee-yeeeee!” as he launched the chariot forward, his hair blowing wildly in the wind. The vehicle jarred forward violently, throwing everyone, save Checotah, slightly off balance. Red regretted relinquishing the controls to the crimson neck.

  Pickett was not incorrect. They were there in under a minute’s time, but it felt more like an eternity after the wild, death defying ride. The end of the cavern led to an open area, full of cargo ships and transporters. Workers, soldiers, and the like ran amuck as the sirens blared in the hangar. As they approached, they could see that the hanger doors were shut, but a hole had been blown in the wall next to the large hangar doors. The area around it was smoking and radiated heat, as though the hole had just been blown open.

  “Is someone attacking the prison?” Pickett asked, slowing his approach as they drew in closer.

  “Friends of his,” Red said, motioning towards Kane.

  A crazy grin appeared on Pickett’s face. The same one that had preceded their less than safe trek here. It unsettled her.

  “We really might get out of here today, then. What’s the plan now?”

  “I’m getting to my ship,” Red replied.

  “Room enough for the two of us?” Pickett asked, referring to himself and Checotah.

  “It’ll cost you,” Red said, pinching her fingers and rubbing them together.

  “I thought you said you’d help us escape if we got you here?” Pickett asked in protest.

  “I did. We’re at the hanger. Now you can figure it out on your own. Unless you’re wanting to pay,” Red contended.

  “You’re all mercenary, aren’t ya?” Pickett sneered.

  “Just the way of the world, stranger.”

  “Pardon my saying so, ma’am, but hospitality is one of many things that separates us from the animals.”

  “Not for a survivor, and that’s what I am,” Red affirmed.

  “How about you... Kane, was it? Your friends have any room for a couple of privateers?”

  “We’ll get everyone we can out of here,” Kane replied.

  “See? Charity towards the poor and bereaved. You, sir, are a gentleman and a scholar,” Pickett replied, parking the chariot on the small docking area.

  “They’re coming,” Kane warned, pointing ahead.

  “This is the only place we can dock. Let’s get off and try to hide,” Red suggested, pressing the button for the exit ramp.

  Everyone exited the craft, with Red leading the way. Their attempt to hide, however, came too late. To their dismay, their presence had been noticed by a platoon of guards passing by in haste. Seeing they were prisoners, the guards charged them with weapons drawn, ready to cut them down.

  The guards, she assumed, would have biosuits. This advantage would enhance their every movement. Red knew she would have to be more cunning than her foes. She hoped that her compatriots were smart enough to realize the same.

  Kane and Red were armed, but Pickett and Checotah were not. Kane threw one of his two blades to the Bison, but kept the other one for himself. Red, who had two from the guard Kane had overtaken, kept both of hers.

  “Sharing is caring, milady!” Pickett yelled, ducking to dodge the barrage of lasers the charging Sashyrians were shooting at them.

  Red, ignoring him, fired back at the Sashyrians with her wrist gun as she charged them. Kane, noticing that Pickett was defenseless, threw him his other sword after setting Magnus off to the side. Red felt a tinge of guilt she had not volunteered one of hers, but she would need every tool at her disposal to defend herself.

  “Hey, thanks,” Pickett yelled, catching it. “But, won’t you need-”

  Kane charged, not taking note of Pickett’s reply. He took on the Sashyrians with superhuman speed, dodging blades and blaster fire with ease. With unarmed strikes alone, he began to cut through the Sashyrian hoard, taking out multiple assailants within a few seconds time. Like a blur of death, he made his enemies’ skill appear the equivalent of small children with twigs for weapons.

  “Oh, I see,” Pickett finished, witnessing Kane’s ferocity and proficiency.

  Red used two blades like she was born to it. In a fluid combination of smooth and scrappy strikes, she bypassed her opponent’s defenses, and then quickly used her wrist gun to shoot them where no armor plating existed. Although not able to match the guards in strength, her agility and quick thinking proved too much for her foes.

  Checotah needed nothing but brute force in his fighting style. Upon wrenching away a long handled, double edged axe from an attacking guard, Checotah made short work of those who came to face him. Though many tried blocking his attacks, even with their biosuits strengthening them, it was to no avail. The ax would either find its target, or topple his foe back, breaking their arm. He let out a bellow as he drove the now cowering guards away from him.

  Pickett used the sword style customary to his homeland. Employing fencing style tactics and a wild, unsettling grin, he charged into the hoard of Sashyrians. With one hand, he held his sword, while the other was used to balance his unwavering back stance. Expertly, he attacked, parried, and counter attacked his foes. He made fighting look less feral, and more like a wild, unpredictable dance.

  Though outnumbered, the escapees easily won. The skirmish lasted less than two minutes, and the group quickly moved through the hangar. Red was thankful her compatriots were capable fighters.

  Fire and smoke filled the air as they moved inward. The fighting continued all around them, but no one engaged them. Red, still leading the group, desperately looked for her ship. Wearing on her patience, she looked up to see that she was in the wrong hangar: F.

  They went through F undeterred, then onto E. Then D. The prison was in too much upheaval to notice them. Finally, they were almost there. Red grew excited as she thought of seeing the ship she had such a special connection to. Escape from this wretched place was finally within her grasp.

  She began to feel self conscious concerning her attitude earlier, but she dismissed it just as quickly as the feeling rose up within her. She did not trust, and she had every right not to. Life was always just seconds away from death, and she was not about to let some strangers on board her ship without payment, let alone grant them her weapons. Too many close encounters, betrayals, and brushings with death had shown her just how cruel this life was.

  The universe worked off of commerce. She had no qualms about charging for what she had to offer. The simple notion that everyone, deep down, only did things for their own benefit, was a truth she held to. Red was simply honest enough to let that fundamental rule reign. Anyone who thought otherwise was either a fool, or a liar.

  “I see it!” Red cried, leading the way as they came through the smoke.

  The Horizon was a very different ship than its counterparts in Hanger C. Triangular in shape, it was layered much like steps, tipping off its design to be Koorian. It was now colored black. Imprinted on the ship’s starbard side was the image of a vulturegan soaring high over a green sun. Red, from previous encounters with the man, knew it to be Tulius’ house sigil.

  “What has he done to my ship?! Looks like a stanklepinker!” Red exclaimed, maddened that her beautiful, horizon colored ship had now been blackened over.

  Pickett did a double take as he snickered at her.

  “A stankle what?”

  As they drew closer to the ship, the sound of a group of people could be heard beyond them in the next hangar. Through the smoke, no one could see who was coming, but a fair guess could be made. Everyone activated their weapons in anticipation, ready to fight. All save Kane.

  A group of armored individuals, led by what seemed to be an islander by birth, emerged from the smoke enveloped field. Seeing the dark armored figure, the man began to quicken his pace towards him. Kane gently sat Magnus on the ground, as everyone, save Red, turned off their weapons.

  “You’re alive!” the man exclaimed in joy, embracing the slightly taller Kane.

  “Naf told us before he lost communication to send all the reinforcements we could,” he continued.

  “Just your forces?” Kane inquired.

  The islander sighed, raising his brow slightly.

  “I had to get his help, Koga. It was the only way,” the islander said, his tone lowering to more of a whisper. Red picked up on what appeared to be Kane’s first name, having followed the conversation intently. She turned off her weapon, as the islander glanced her way.

  “You sound so glad I came, brother,” another, paler man said, emerging from the crowd of soldiers behind the islander.

  He was taller than his brother, but looked to be around the same age. He had long, wild flowing hair, with tribal, tautau style tattoos running down his neck. Unlike the other’s armor, his was much less uniform. She noticed it was outfitted for heavy combat, whilst also outlaid with a stealth field generator. On his back resided a two handed long sword of Kenzanite design.

  The man had a stoic, albeit, cocky manner. Like many others of strength she had engaged in the past, he had a commanding presence. Though she just barely noticed it, Koga tensed slightly at the sight of the man.

  “If it hadn’t been for me, you’d still be locked up in here, boy,” the man said, looking at Koga as he approached.

  Koga, after a long, awkward pause, continued his conversation, ignoring the man who had addressed him. It was clear there was no friendship between them. Red felt as though the other man had wronged Koga in some way.

  “What’s your plan?”

  “His plan?” the taller man scoffed, folding his arms. “You’re supposed to be the one with the plan. You called us here!”

  Koga continued to ignore him, his gaze fixed on his brother.

  “Wouldn’t your father be so proud...” he pushed, his tone dropping to a low growl as he passive aggressively antagonized Koga.

  Koga’s head was turned to the stranger, the red eye slits on his helmet growing brighter as he took a step towards his antagonizer. Despite his seemingly dominant nature, the stranger was slightly taken back by Koga’s actions, but he hid his anxiety well. The brother stepped between the two of them.

  “Gar, we’re not here for that,” the man replied, turning to face him.

  Now turning to face everyone, the man spoke up to the group.

  “My name is Lima. I am the Matai of Rosari. Me and my people, as well as General Gar’s troops, are here to rescue you. The transports are all almost filled, but we still have some on standby. Have you passed any prisoners on your way here?”

  “Quite a lot,” Pickett replied.

  Lima turned to one of his men.

  “Go as far as you can, and bring back all you can. Don’t let anyone stand in your way. Return to hangar B as soon as possible,” Lima commanded.

  The man gave a small salute, then motioned his men to follow. Running past Red and the small entourage behind her, they ran out of sight. Lima, shortly after they had departed, turned back to the group.

  “If you all will-” Lima began, breaking off as a loud noise erupted near them.

  An explosion rocked the hangar, as parts of it began to collapse in on itself. Everyone present instinctively ducked as debris shot about all around them. When the smoke cleared, Red could see that no one was hurt. However, the exits to hangers B and D has been closed off around them.

  “Blast! Lima, I thought you’d ended the bombardment?” Gar yelled, coughing a little.

  “I did!” Lima insisted, trying to activate the comms on his H.I.C.

  Pickett ran, looking around to see if he could find an opening out.

  “We’re trapped in here,” Pickett said. “We’ll need to take a ship in this hangar if we’re going to make it out.”

  Lima ran to look out the hangar doors.

  “Sashyrian ship!” Lima yelled out, just before more laser fire pummeled and area near him.

  “We need to get out of here!” Pickett yelled, looking to Red. Gar interrupted.

  “We can’t. The hangar exits are blocked, and we don’t have the signature to any of the ships in here.”

  Red groaned, as Pickett continued to look at her.

  “Fine! But you all owe me. Big time,” Red consented. Running towards her ship, she prayed Tulius had not changed the ship’s access signature. With her new allies behind her, Red walked up to the holographic control panel. Checotah picked up Magnus, seeing as he was closest to do so, and laid him over his broad shoulders. Waking from his daze, Magnus reached out to touch Checotah’s head.

  “Ha! Big, furry cow. Moooooooooooooo! Ha ha, ha, ha...” Magnus yelled with a drunken tone, still under the influence of the truth serum. Checotah, though patient, did not appear to appreciate the delusional outburst.

  Red touched her hand to the holo-pad.

  “Horizon,” she said aloud.

  The screen turned red, with a yellow triangle now displayed on the screen.

  “Invalid user,” the computer replied, rejecting her entry. Red swallowed hard.

  “Can you get in?” Lima asked, directing his question towards her.

  Red tried again, as the hanger began to further collapse around them.

  “Looks like we’re out of luck, boys,” she replied, racking her brain for a way to make it out of here alive. With her ship’s signature changed, they had no way into her ship. They would encounter the same problem on the other ships, but unlike her ship, she did not know if she could trust them to handle properly. Plus, all her belongings were on The Horizon.

  “Try hacking it! You’re good at that, right?” Pickett suggested.

  “It would take me an hour at least. I designed my ship’s security tech myself. It’s tough.”

  Just then, the ramp of the ship began to descend. Everyone, most of all Red, was shocked. They walked around to where the ramp’s end would land. As the ramp thudded to the ground, Red looked up to see who had opened the ship for them.

  Standing atop the ramp was a tall, humanoid like droid. He possessed a triangular shaped head, with black and crimson armor plating all over his person. Heavily weaponized with a menacing look, Red knew this to be her faithful, yet cantankerous droid, R.U.D.E.

  “Seems I’m having to save your filthy carcass again, aren’t I?” the droid said condescendingly, its deep, creepy voice sending a small chill down Red’s spine. She had not heard his voice in quite a while.

  “Good to see you too, R.U.D.E.”

  R.U.D.E. eyed his new visitors as they ascended the ramp behind Red.

  “I see you’ve made some new friends. I guess it’s true. Vermin do travel in packs.”

  “Come off it, and start the blasted ship,” Red replied, running in towards the ship’s elevator.

  The Horizon was as unique on the inside as she was on the outside. Red had kept the Koor’s original art style throughout the ship, which was made up of ornate loops, colors, swivels, and other designs. The ship was multileveled, outfitted with an armory, multiple boarding rooms, medbay, weapon systems, a kitchen, and a very unique bridge. It even had a meeting room of sorts past the bridge's entry. Like so many Koor designed ships, it housed their famous “circle elevator,” whose only power source, save the controls, was the user’s own weight.

  “Take him to the infirmary,” pointing to Magnus. “The rest of you, man the guns! We’ll need all the firepower we can get,” she commanded, pointing to the hallways that lead to said armaments and medbay.

  Red got on the elevator, and directed it towards her bridge. R.U.D.E., Kane, and Lima followed her in, while the others stayed below. Pickett and Gar manned the guns on the lower floor, while Checotah attended to Magnus.

  Red quickly ran to her pilot’s chair, and started up her ship. R.U.D.E., sitting next to her to copilot, started helping along with the process. Kane and Lima watched, looking out through the cockpit window.

  “How’d you reactivate yourself? I assume they didn’t find you where I hid you,” Red asked.

  “I have a lot of programs and protocols you’re not aware of, queen of mistakes,” R.U.D.E. replied, answering Red’s question as he continued to activate the ship.

  The engines roared awake as Red prepared her to take off. The open hangar doors in front of them were nearly about to collapse in on themselves. A Sashyrian ship was trying to close off their way of escape by trapping them inside. Red realized that one or two more shots from its overhead cannon would do it, too.

  “Everyone hold on! This is going to get nasty!” Red yelled, taking a deep breath as she prepared for takeoff.

  Quickly, she rocketed The Horizon towards their only hope of escape.